by Heath Pfaff
Whoever General Krotek was, he was meeting with some humans. That was an important bit of information. The humans might be bonesteel blade wielders. One of them might be the woman who’d taken the knife, and the other people might be important allies if Xandrith could get Haley to free them from their curse the way she’d freed Crow and herself. He doubted they were serving the troll cause willingly. What human would willingly serve a race bent on their destruction?
That wasn’t all the information Xandrith was looking for, but it was without a doubt important. He needed to try and discover where this meeting between Krotek and the humans was going to take place. Finding a general would get him closer to finding the head of the horde, and he had no doubt that the god-thing would be at the head of the army. He left the two grunting trolls to their sport and moved on.
He was focused so intently on listening to the conversations going on around him, that he didn’t even notice he’d caught someone’s attention until a powerful hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.
“I’m talking to you, runt!” A barking troll voice yelled in his face. The troll was head and shoulders taller than Xan with skin a similar shade of red to the one he’d died his skin. “I said, you’re going to give me that sword of yours. It belongs with someone who can actually lift it.” He reached for Xan’s troll blade and Xandrith stepped deftly back out of grabbing range.
The larger troll’s eyes narrowed. “Give it here and I won’t use it to cut off both your arms.” His voice was a growl. Xandrith needed to respond, but talking might give him away. He could try to fake the accent, but he doubted he could do it convincingly for any length of time.
“Mine.” He said, growling on the word fiercely and placing his hand on the hilt of the giant sword.
The other’s eyes lit up with a terrible glee and Xandrith realized in that moment that he’d done exactly what the troll had wanted him to do. This wasn’t about the sword at all. The sword the Unth had provided him wasn’t a bad weapon, but it wasn’t worth fighting over either. This troll had picked a fight with him because he was smaller and looked easy to win a fight with. He was here to kill Xandrith to soothe his own lust for blood and to make himself look more powerful to the others of his brigade. A crowd was already starting to gather around.
“I guess I’ll just have to take it from your corpse.” The troll licked his lips as he drew a wicked looking mace from where it hung at his hip. The weapon was crude steel with several protruding, twisted spikes rising from its surface. Again, like the sword, it looked like a mean weapon. The trolls designed everything to look as angry as they were inside. Xandrith drew his sword and the crowd around them began to cheer and jeer in expectancy. The assassin could hear the call for bets taken in rations and rights to loot and slaughter once the walls were down. Death was hanging above like a dark cloud, and the trolls were thriving in its shadow.
The troll with the mace advanced on Xandrith immediately. He had a confident stride that told Xandrith he didn’t consider loss a possibility. The first swing of the mace swept well wide of its mark, which was Xan’s head. Xandrith barely had to move out of the way. The troll was toying with him for the joy of the spectators. A terrible laugh began to rise up in Xan’s throat. It exploded from between his lips as he easily ducked a third attack, and then a fourth.
“What are you laughing about?” The other troll asked, a hint of burning rage touching his orange eyes. His next swing was much harder, and much faster than the others. Xandrith actually had to move with intent to get out of the way. “Do you find the idea of picking your brains out of the mud funny?” A triumphant light lit behind his eyes as he suddenly sprung forward in a shocking surge of speed. Xandrith had read the move in every twitch of his body. The troll was powerful and fast, but he communicated his intent clearly through his large frame. Moving that much mass took the use of a considerable amount of muscle, and the assassin was an expert at reading the telltale signs of an incoming attack.
The troll was expecting him to retreat, but Xan stepped forward, bring up the point of his sword as he did so. The creature’s momentum drove it onto the assassin’s sword point and his muscles tensed as the full weight of the beast slammed into him. Xandrith slid backwards across the muddy, snowy ground, propelled by the weight of the troll but still stable on his own feet. His opponent looked shocked, but the fight wasn’t fleeing his eyes. Had he been a human Xan’s sword would have passed through a lung and the heart, but this was a troll. Instead of killing it, he’d just made it much angrier.
The troll reached for him with its free hand, trying to push Xan far enough back that he could get the mace up between them. Xandrith switched his own momentum and used the push of the troll to rip his sword free. Instead of retreating and waiting for another clash with the brute, Xan swung the heavy metal sword around his body, from his right hand to his left, and used its weight to swing himself back at the troll. He swung all of his weight behind the new attack. His opponent had just enough time to realize that the tide of battle had turned against him. He tried to bring his mace up to block, and he almost made it. Xan’s sword, which had been aimed at the creature’s neck, skipped off the top of the mace and slammed into the top of the troll’s head with explosive force. The troll forged steel tore into the troll’s head, burying itself halfway through its skull before the impossibly thick bone stopped the weapon’s momentum. The vibration of the strike rolled down Xan’s arm and into his bad shoulder.
Xan roared in pain and jerked back on the sword hilt, ripping it out of his enemy’s head. For a moment the troll kept standing, its orange eyes wide in confusion. It raised its mace, a snarl coming to its lip, exposing a set of terrible, ragged teeth. It picked up a foot and stepped forward, and then it fell. A roar of mixed emotions arose around Xandrith. Those few who’d bet on him had just hit big, but for the most part the audience seemed disappointed that Xan had won. Xandrith bent down and wiped the blood from his sword on the dead troll’s clothing. He replaced the blade in his scabbard and set about moving as far out of the area as possible. He’d attracted far too much notice. Aggressive trolls who’d lost money on him were staring daggers at him, and Xan suspected if he stayed too long it wouldn’t be their eyes with the daggers he’d need to worry about. Females were looking on in a perverse kind of interest that Xandrith wasn’t eager to deal with either.
He’d nearly gotten clear of the group of trolls when one of them yelled at his back. “You’re not going to take his horns? You’re not carrying any on you, think you’re too good for trophies? Think you’re better than us, or you just ashamed ‘cause someone broke yours off?”
Xandrith hesitated for a second, but then kept walking. It would only make him look weak to turn back.
“Runt, I’m talking to you!” The voice came again, and this time it was approaching quickly behind him. He didn’t need to look around to know that this troll was bigger than the last one. He could tell by the boom of its voice, and the height from which is voice was emanating. The cheers of the other trolls were already starting up again. Another fight was coming and Xan could hear the trolls starting bets once more. He was faring a little better this time, but only a little.
Xan drew his sword and rounded on the new comer. He wasn’t going to get out of this fight either. He wondered how many more of these he’d have to do. This new troll had dark green flesh and Xan only stood up to just above his stomach. The beast towered above him. It had one axe that would have been a two handed weapon for a man in each of its fists.
“You’re barely even wroth killing. What am I supposed to do with those little nubs of yours after I lop off your head?”
You could shove them up your ass, Xan thought, but he avoided speaking. It wasn’t that he thought his insult was lacking, only that he was already starting to seem suspicious. He wasn’t making great progress towards his goal, and if the trolls kept getting bigger as he killed them he was in for an increasingly difficult set of battles. Worse, if he kep
t winning he might get laid.
He didn’t wait for the new troll to spring an attack on him. Xandrith had fought powerful men with axes before. Though those others hadn’t been quite so large, or possessed of axes that were quite the same devastating size. The basic mechanics of the weapons were the same, though. They were designed to deliver powerful, rending damage, but between attacks they were relatively slow to recover. Xan needed to get the troll moving into an attack pattern so that he could locate openings in which to slide his sword. His hand was still sore from smashing the last troll in the head. He really wasn’t a particularly good swordsman, but drawing his Unth daggers would obviously single him out.
Xan’s first attack was a diving plunge right for the troll’s chest. It was an insane attack pattern that no right headed individual would ever try, and that was exactly why the troll was shocked enough to almost let it through. He managed to pull an axe into place to block at the last instant which deflected the sword up and over his left shoulder. The blade skidded across his skin, leaving a small but harmless cut. The massive troll ignored the damage and rolled into a quick counter attack, slashing with both of his axes in parallel, one high and one low. Xan jumped and spun between the two blades, clearing the space between with barely enough space to not get wound up in them as he went. He landed hard on his bad leg and had to expend a good deal of effort not to fall. He converted the spin into an attack, slicing at the larger troll’s knee.
It wasn’t a great angle to do extensive damage, but Xan’s sword struck and sliced through flesh and cartilage. The massive troll roared in rage and brought an axe crashing down into the place Xandrith had only moments before been occupying. Xan danced back out of the way, and the troll stopped his own advance a moment to more carefully consider his new opponent.
“You’re an agile little thing. I think I’ll keep your whole head as a trophy.” He advanced slowly, carefully, his terrible red eyes watching Xan’s every movement.
The assassin stilled himself, calming his nerves and putting his aches and pains to the back of his mind. He needed focus. This troll was larger and stronger than him, and it wasn’t just some untrained brute. It was using well-honed attack patterns. Xandrith was barely better than average with a sword, and he’d never used one like the one he was carrying now. This fight had more than a little potential to end badly for him. It would only take the smallest mistake to give his enemy the trophy he wanted.
Xan dodged out of the way of one axe, and used his sword to turn aside another. He didn’t dare outright block an attack from his massive opponent. The shock might shatter his bones, and at the very least would knock the feeling from his arms. As he twisted and turned between another set of carefully planned attacks Xan began to realize he’d need to come up with a new strategy. His opponent was too fast and too strong for Xan to fight with an unfamiliar weapon. He was going to need to use a knife, but he was going to have to do it quickly, and while drawing as little attention to what he was doing as he could.
The assassin dove backwards, moving in the direction of a large fire burning near one of the tents. The troll was right on his heels. Xandrith kicked a pile of wet looking wood into the fire and then jumped over the flames as billows of white smoke began to fill the air. There were complaints from the horde of trolls as their view of the battle grew dim, but Xandrith felt a wave a relief waft over him with the wave of invisibility. Of course he couldn’t see well through the smoke either, but this gave him the chance he needed to draw a knife. He pulled out one of the blades given to him by the Unth and slid his finger over the jewel on the hilt. The knife throbbed once in response to his touch, and then began to vibrate in his hand. It wasn’t a huge motion, barely perceptible really, but Xandrith had held a lot of knives over the years.
“You can try and hide if you want, runt, but I can still see enough of you to hit with my axe.” The monster on the other side of the first laughed, and it was true enough. Even though there were no details, Xan could make out the hulking form of the troll across from him. The giant shadow moved in his direction. Xandrith didn’t need to see the axes to know they were coming. He moved himself out of range and waited for the sound of them passing. It came, and as soon as Xandrith heard the second weapon cleave through the smoke sending some of the white vapor spinning in a trail, he jumped for the troll. Xan led not with his sword, but with the reassuringly familiar length of his new knife.
His first cut ran across the front of the troll’s chest, along his pectoral muscles, and the second cut was higher still. Xan had hoped the Unth weapons would be effective, but he hadn’t been prepared for just how effective his attack was. The troll’s flesh opened wide at the press of the blade, splitting open like the overly ripe skin of a rotting fruit. The second cut tore the creature’s jugular wide, spilling black blood out across the ground. The troll began to choke on its own fluids. Xandrith sheathed his knife and took his sword in both hands. He swung at the creature’s already split neck with everything he could muster. The blade made a solid thunk as it tore into the troll, ripping through its spine, and stopping in the sinew just next to the shattered bone. Xandrith drew back the blade and swung again, this time finishing the job. The troll collapsed, dead, just as the smoke began to clear.
Xan walked over to the severed head, put his foot on it, and clove off both of the horns before picking them and putting them in his cloak pockets. The trolls looked on in grim respect. A few of the females moved in his general direction, flexing their muscles and showcasing their cleavage. Xan pointedly ignored them and walked away. None of the others seemed interested in challenging him at that moment, and he was just as happy to be away. He had no idea what he was going to do with troll horns, but he didn’t intend to make the same mistake he’d made the first time. They wanted him to take a trophy, well he’d taken a damn trophy that time.
Xandrith walked on, more aware of his surroundings, and more closely watching whose line of sight he crossed. He didn’t need to get into any more fights. Two had been more than enough, and he couldn’t count on his luck holding out indefinitely. The next fight could either kill him or expose him as a fraud, which would also get him killed. He stopped next to the side of a tent that had a large group of trolls inside eating and drinking, laughing and gambling. They were talking boisterously, so Xandrith decided he’d see if they had anything of importance to discuss. He lifted the edge of the tent and peered inside cautiously.
Time slipped away as he listened to them discuss murder and sex in equal parts, graphically detailing both with equal fervor, but finally something useful came up.
“…should just kill all the humans, whether they’re temple knights or not. I don’t trust them.” One of the trolls complained.
“Thems with the black knives are slaves to The God, Tiebeld. They might look delicious, but they are His and He is the only one I would never dare cross.” Another of the creatures spoke.
“Spies,” Another troll barked. “For us allegedly, but I agree with Tiebeld. They can’t be trusted. One of them already turned on us, and the others will too.”
“The God knows what He is doing.” Yet another of the group replied. “He has led us this far towards our goals already. The human empire is destroyed. This country is ours, and now He is on the verge of bringing about the Great Sundering. Once the Sundering begins He will quell the last of the humans and give the world into our hands. He has promised us this.”
Many of the trolls nodded in agreement, looks of hunger and lust burning in their angry, glowing eyes.
“Do you really think He will kill His human servants? Already he gives them greater honor than us. He keeps them in those fancy black tents at the edge of his pavilion. He calls them ‘knights,’ ‘Templar.’” He pointed further south, and though the tents weren’t in sight, Xandrith now had a direction to travel. “Why should they be so honored? They were not the ones who struggled beneath the rock for millennia to grow powerful for Him. They are not the ones who have fought
and died to bring Him to this forsaken, frozen shithole!” The first troll who’d complained spoke again.
The much larger troll sitting directly next to him raised a fist and slammed it into his face without warning. The blow shattered the other creature’s skull and crumpled him to the ground. He wasn’t dead, but blood and flecks of teeth flew from his crushed mouth as he gasped for breath on the ground. Xandrith knew enough about trolls to know he’d recover, but it had still been a terrifying blow.
“Shut up.” The troll who’d struck him replied in a dull rumble. “The God has saved our people. He may use whatever tools He wishes to reach His ends. The God’s success will only benefit us all.”
The argument died down after that, and Xandrith didn’t stick around to see what the trolls would do next. He had a direction of travel, and that was enough for the time being. He began walking south, further into the heart of the troll horde. He looked back over his shoulder at the way he’d come and he could no longer see the wall clearly. It had grown small in the distance, and was obscured by smoke from troll fires. Xan turned back to continue on and stopped in his tracks.
A rotting version of Crow was standing in his path, sword drawn. His body was broken, his arms and legs were shattered and split with bones protruding through the flesh in several places. Despite his decrepit nature, he stood firmly in place. “I’m not going to let you kill Haley like you killed everyone else.” He said, pointing the weapon at Xan.
Xan took a deep breath. He wasn’t really there. Crow was dead, and there was no way he would be up and about in the middle of the troll army. It looked real, and Xandrith could smell the fetid rot coming off his flesh, but it wasn’t real. Even if it might have been some risen version of Crow, there is no way he would already be so far decayed. Of course, it was easy to tell himself all of this, but it was much more difficult to make himself accept it as true. The assassin took a step forward, towards the point of the sword that wasn’t there.