“Our village is a place of peace,” said Shenkii. “Under any other circumstances, I would allow you to walk freely and armed, but for the sake of my people, you all must surrender your weapons.”
I handed over my knives and any other weapons I might’ve carried. Sergio carried none. When a soldier came for Irvina’s chakram, she refused. “I will leave if I must, Elder, but I won’t part ways with my chakram.”
The soldier looked at him. Shenkii stroked his beard. “Naiads and their sentimental trinkets. Very well. We haven’t many wars of the past with your kind. You are a race of your word. But you must swear an oath not to raise it against any trolls of the village. Including Voreg.”
She nodded. “As long as he keeps his distance.”
“I can handle that. Come.”
The Dugan troll village was two miles long and sculpted of dirt and rock. Stalagmites homes within a massive clearing stretched a quarter mile tall at their highest points. Large fire pits against walls, and lamps hanging from stalactites, provided sufficient lighting. Rock formations like trees were everywhere. It was certainly no longer a place for gold miners. Never had I seen nor heard of trolls being so... civilized. So, this is what they’ve been up to in their hiding. They’d developed civilized culture. The posture in which they stood and walked was unlike the crude and clumsy manner that lore depicted.
Trolls were habitual wilderness wanderers and instinctive creatures of the Lesser Races with primitive minds equivalent to that of apes. Solitary or small groups lived in plains and the typical woodlands. Large tribes were known to settle deep in vast forests like Elwood. As were most Lesser Races, they were Ambics. Ultima was their Creator. Crowds of trolls joked and talked around fire pits. A troll eyed us as he bit into a roasted bug on a stick, viscous juice squirting from its snout. Many left us alone, but our presence bothered some of them. “I’ve never seen trolls act—” I stopped mid-sentence when I noticed Shenkii with his hands behind him and staff crossways.
“Well mannered,” the Elder finished. “Do you want to hear truth, human?”
“Darwin.”
“Very well, Darwin. There are not many races left without the blood of Men running through their veins.” The three of us gasped, eyes meeting as the startling divulgence brought us to a momentary standstill. “It’s true. Pureblood trolls run thin in the world. Of this tribe, my grandfather was the last. A woman slave of Men bred my father. Humans slaves bred many others you see here. Discretely we have renamed ourselves the Neo-Trolls. It is a secret—our greatest secret—we’ve kept for the past few centuries. Many would seek to have me killed for sharing it with you, but because of the evil ones, I fear that my perishing is inevitable either way.”
He was talking about Abyssians. The mere suggestion of them took my gaze and attention from the marvelous village. I grimaced in my own world. But it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Much hatred you have for them, Darwin. Come and tell me the story of how a naiad, half-satyr, and a man came to accompany one another. Surely you are an odd bunch.”
We arrived at the largest stalagmite home in the center of the village. Inside was a spacious room with many boulder pillars. Three holes, draping with ragged curtains lied in each wall leading elsewhere. From the one ahead came a female troll whose blue locks bunched behind her. “Shaaka,” Shenkii introduced—his sister. Shaaka scanned us with a pressing gaze. Her greeting was uneasy and hard, and she clicked her teeth, making an expression of the centuries-old resentment of her race.
To her brother, she said, “The spider-limb soup has cooled.” The boy, Vakuu, ran toward Shaaka and leaped into her arms. Their warm embrace told me she was his mother.
The next room was one of skulls and bones. A long-rotted wooden table strewn with piles of serpentine, insect and arachnid cuisine wafted with the smell of death. Rubyk sat and crushed the head of a slithering, half-alive snake and sucked it into his mouth like a noodle. “Ah, I’m starved,” said Shenkii. His cave spider leaped onto the table and crawled to a platter of insects. “You’re welcome to partake if you’re up to the challenge.” Shaaka took Shenkii’s staff as he fixed himself to sit. Vakuu sat beside his brother.
Sergio leaned forward, his face paling. “Ugh... I think I’m gonna be—” He swallowed harshly, his visage taut.
Shenkii smirked and laughed. “A satyr with no backbone—that’s a first. The man I would expect, but what about you, naiad?”
Irvina shrugged and picked up a black insect with long antennae. She examined it for a moment and then popped it into her mouth, quickly crunching into its innards.
Sergio grimaced, every ounce of lust for the naiad pouring through his eyes. “That just ruined everything! There’s no way I could ever, possibly, look at you the same again. Not after that, Irvina, I mean, really? There’s no telling what sort of obscenities you’re capable of—I mean, well... then again...” His mind roamed off again into thoughts too inappropriate for their predicament, his smirk eventually returning.
“When you’ve been around as long as I have, you learn to live a little.”
“Was it any good?” asked Sergio.
Plain-faced, she answered, “Vile. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Shenkii cackled loudly, and the troll children laughed. “I like you, naiad,” he said. There was no way I was eating anything on the table. I was glad that the Amethyst had removed my need for sustenance. Shenkii apologized for not having any more appetizing options.
“We don’t have visitors of other kinds.”
After I had reassured the troll that his hospitality was more than enough, the Elder unleashed the barrage of questions he’d withheld hitherto. I told him the story of how we came to ally, leaving out the details of the orbs and filling the gaps with solid, arrow-proof pretense. The entire time I kept the Amethyst well hidden, as did Sergio of his orb. His buttoned vest kept the Emerald a guarded secret.
Most of all, my squabble with Irvina in Southwood fascinated Shenkii. He laughed, “My apologies, human, but I’d place my wager on the naiad, should a rematch ever come about.” I beamed at her, catching the dimples of her proud smirk. Still, while small talk diminished any tension, I pressed the most important matter at hand. As a White Fox lieutenant, it was a habit to be forward. “Shenkii, forgive me, but we need to get to the other side of the mountains. How do we get through this cave?”
The Elder sighed and deflected the conversation to the politics of the trolls. Why he’d avoid the subject was curious. He talked about the rules of the village and how he and his father before him placed blood and sweat into teaching the trolls to abandon barbaric customs. “My father, Elder Shenoc, dreamt that one day our people would join the Ruling Races as more than the primitive beasts our ancestors were known as. He imagined that we could build a city as large as a Giants’ metropolis. Just before he died, he made me vow that I would see the vision through. But now it seems that traveling to the moon would be a more reasonable endeavor.” He sipped a dark, malodorous spirit from his goblet of stone. “We will never be able to leave this place,” he said.
My brow lifted. “What do you mean?”
Shenkii drank again. “The other side of the cave has long been sealed. Many, many years ago, the evil ones came lurking inside from the fields, bringing with them a beast more terrible than any lion, larger than an elephant—a revolting creature. Countless trolls have died in their efforts to slay it, some of our greatest Bashers. It slaughtered a third of our tribe. This beast has bested even a behemoth. My father had no choice but to barricade the cave.”
The behemoths were legendary beasts of the Colossi Race with sworn allegiance to the minotaur—midnight blue gargantuan canids with auburn manes, dual bullhorns protruding above their brows and tails besting the width of alligators. Their chiseled bodies were made as if only with cuts and muscles—the broadness of their limbs unrivaled by any creature. They were more vicious than dragons, rumored to contend with the eminence of their strength.
; “We call it Kreshauros,” said Vakuu. We listened to the two children describe a huge feline Abyssian.
Sounds like a large sifter—a necrein.
“It’s massive! And it stomps around on four huge legs. It wears a shagged coat of speckled fur, and its face is naught but shredded flesh.” For another thirty dreaded minutes, the children raved about the creature, describing its vicious temperament and deadly ferocity. Shenkii occasionally contributed to their illustration.
When my eyes fell on Sergio’s Emerald and then on the Amethyst, a thought struck me. Surely, with the Orbs we could dispatch the beast—but the trolls would learn of our abilities. And I didn’t know if we could trust them. I quickly perished the notion. I’ll have to think of some other way. Thunderously, a woman troll came into the room, tall Bashers stalked behind her, toting cumbersome clubs. A matted wool robe adorned her. Her draping, ice-gray locks bound by metal cuffs were similar to Shenkii’s.
Bone goggles strapped her head, and the slits in her nose told me she was a tracker. A bone cane supported her leaning posture. Her cold stare found Sergio, Irvina, and me at the table. Shenkii hunched in his seat, pressing a hand into his knee. “Ah, Agnas, a pleasure. To what do I owe such a vigorous visit?”
Agnas inhaled, her wide, gapped-tooth grin confirming something. “I thought you should know something, Elder, about the strangers with whom you so blithely dine. I detect a peculiar scent, one ancient and far, far bygone. It eluded me until the powers of recollection returned to me. I went over millenniums of aromas in my mind. Invoking all of my years and experience of tracking, I’ve concluded that they, disturbing as it may be,” she said, “are surely beings of magic.”
The Amethyst ignited at the word. I stood quickly, but Shenkii, who sat beside me, snatched me by the wrist and squeezed. The troll children exited quickly into another room, and Shaaka drew a dagger from behind her. I grimaced as my open hand curled. Agnas pointed a stubby green finger once more. “It comes from that,” she said. Shenkii peered, watching the blinking glow of the orb die leisurely.
“Yes,” said the Elder. “I noticed it earlier when I sent Xerrax to examine him. But the tracker said nothing of it, so I thought it not important.”
I thought I’d hidden the orb well since our arrival. But the Elder’s keen eye proved not so easily bested.
“Xerrax is undoubtedly your greatest tracker, but this scent is much older than him. He could not have known. Though retired and worn, this ol’ sniffer of mine can still catch a good whiff or two.”
“Shenkii,” I called.
The Elder’s solemn mien intensified. “What do you have to say for this, Darwin?”
“...It’s true,” I admitted. “But it’s a secret even we don’t fully comprehend. You must understand why we chose not to mention it.”
The Elder snorted and then eyed Agnas. “Is he the only one?” I found Sergio first, his face pale with a nervous wide-eyed countenance. Slowly he levitated from his seat, rationally thinking to escape, or preempt their hostile intentions.
“That one, too,” said Agnas. He plopped back down with a growl when Bashers tromped to either side of him.
When Irvina began to move, I touched her arm with my free hand. “No. As we’ve said before, it isn’t our intention to create conflict.”
There was a pause. The Elder breathed into a hand, his other still clenching my wrist with discomforting firmness. “I understand why you kept it secret. Us trolls have many of our own.” All eyes fell on him. “But I’m afraid magic changes our circumstances. It makes you unpredictable. How am I to know you did not charm your way out of the examination? How do I know that you’re not playing us for fools now?” He ordered the Bashers with a nod. “To the dungeon with them, until this matter can be resolved.”
We went willingly, though Sergio wasn’t without his profanities as he stomped forward. The dungeon was separate from the tribe, inside of a broad, edificial stalagmite. It was full of dead things; of the skeletons of animals and humanoids much too small to have once been trolls. A collection of bulbous cages filled the spacious room, each one occupied by unruly trolls. They all quieted and watched with haunting glowers as our procession filed past them, going to our imprisonment.
Laughing, the Bashers shoved us in the center-most cage, delivering us to the scowls and barks of lawless trolls. The prison’s repugnant odor burned my nostrils, forcing my hand into my face. Shenkii emerged from behind the Bashers. “I am sorry for this, truly. I believe you mean us no harm, but I cannot risk the safety of the trolls.”
“Do what you must,” I said sincerely, in the most empathetic tone I could conjure. The Elder and his Bashers left.
A dragon’s skull as large as one of the rigged cages lit the dungeon as it swung from the high ceiling. A strong fire roared where its tongue should have been. They must’ve made it. Dragons had long been extinct, killed by the superior technology of Men. Flamed torches propped the walls, aiding the brightness. At the back of the room, upon a high jutting ledge, sat a troll with an intricate enamel scepter and a tall headdress of feathers, skulls, garlic, and hanging chains. He was the keeper of the prison.
“It’s so revolting,” Sergio mumbled. He tucked his head in his vest, hiding from the rank smell. “I can’t wait to get back to the stench of sweat-drenched planks on an old boat.”
Irvina sat on the ground, quiet and still, legs curled beside her. The dungeon smell did not bother her. She looked at Sergio, amused. “It must be worse for you,” she said. “Satyrs have snouts same as trolls, do they not?”
Sergio, who had been holding his breath, rolled on the ground, heaving, and hacking as if the putrid odor was strangling him. He calmed after a long while and answered. “Fortunately for me, I’m only half-goat. My senses and good looks come from the human in me. Only thing I got from that lineage were a pair of wooly legs, led toenails, and this here horsetail.” The long strands smacked against the ground in loud thwacks. “At any given time, other than this, my dear, it’d be an honor to show them to you,” he said lasciviously. “Perhaps in the highest suite of a lovely little inn—rose petals littered upon the bed, the finest wine money can buy, candles of honey all around us.” He sighed, looking upward. “It’d be... wondrous. For you, my darling, I’d purchase the world.”
Irvina smacked her lips and grimaced with a wince. “I see you’ve inherited their carnal imagination. I’m afraid your fantasy will spend an eternity in that Halfling noggin.” Sergio shrugged and grinned.
I sat in front of them, our positions forming a triangle. “Looks like jail’s turning into commonplace, eh, Winn?” said Sergio. In the dirt between my legs, I drew a sword.
“The orbs would have been exposed soon enough,” said Irvina. “The only thing we can do now is escape and find the path to the other side of the cave ourselves.”
“But it’s sealed,” I reminded them.
“Then we can remove it with magic,” Sergio suggested as he tossed his bandana and redid his ponytail. “Winn, you know we can get out of here anytime, right? With the Emerald, I can just break those bars, and boom, we’re free.”
“I know.” But it wasn’t the smartest move. We would’ve surely been in for a fight then. “Killing a bunch of trolls isn’t what I have in mind. They’ve done nothing wrong by us. I only hope that remaining peaceful for a while will show them we’re not a threat, and, in turn, earn us our freedom.”
“You’d test the patience of such elderly creatures?” said Sergio mockingly. “And what if that doesn’t work, Winn? What then?”
I looked at the ground and bit my bottom lip. “Then—”
“We’ll have no choice but to escape and fight if we must,” Irvina finished.
“I want to speak with Shenkii again,” I said, “But let’s give it some time—a few hours at the most. Perhaps we can bargain our freedom with Kreshauros. But we’ll have to wait for him to come to us. Civilized or not, forcing a troll’s hand will dispose of all reason.”
; We were quiet for a long, immeasurable while. I paid no mind to the conversation between Sergio and Irvina. I anxiously paced about, soaking in the silence, until at last my Militia friend started with unexpected anger. “I can’t take it anymore!” he shouted, flinging an object at the curved bars. With a clink it struck the cage, ricocheting in another direction just as fast. The smell that maddened him, I’d forgotten it until then. I grimaced as it went back into my nose, though it wasn’t as potent as it was when we had first arrived. Sergio sat back on the ground unusually close to Irvina. She winced and stared the half-satyr up and down. He inhaled the enchanted scent of her pheromones, sinking in a daze. “Irvina, sweetheart, may I—” She cut him off with a stark glare as she spun a chakram in her hand.
I looked up to see someone limping briskly toward us. Agnas. In her hand was an empty, finger-length vial labeled with something in black. A cork plugged its top. “Top of the day to you, strangers.”
“Agnas,” I greeted. “Where’s Shenkii?”
The old tracker popped the cork with her teeth. “He’s busy with the affairs of a leader. Why do you ask?”
“I want to speak with him,” I answered, warily eyeing her handling of the vial.
“Oh,” she said with a long sniff. The air moved around me, and underneath my jacket. I felt a breeze leave my sleeves and go forward. Agnas’ locks shook when the wind came upon her, her nostrils flaring. Into the vial she exhaled, a gaseous fog oozing from her nose. “Bottled scent,” she said.
“What for?”
She raised a brow. “You’d be surprised. We’ve deterred many enemies with these and masked our scent while attacking them. Me personally, I’m old and cannot remember where or when I’ve come across ancient and rare smells. If I tell you of any more than that, I’d have to have you killed. Good day.” As she started away, I stopped her.
“Please, when he has the time, tell Shenkii I would like to speak with him.”
Enigma: Awakening Page 18