by Robert Bevan
“No, I won’t,” said the troll. “You see, we may be weaker, but we don’t have the same susceptibilities to fire.”
“Bullshit,” said Chaz. “They wouldn’t have made a fire-resistant troll. That’s just stupid.”
“I’m not fire-resistant,” the troll corrected him. “Fire affects me the same way it would affect you. With that little torch, the best you can hope to do against me is something like four hit points’ worth of damage, and my fast healing ability gives me back five hit points every round of combat.”
“But that doesn’t apply to fire damage.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” said the troll. “A standard troll’s regeneration doesn’t heal fire damage, but my fast healing ability heals fire damage just the same as it would any other type of damage.”
“So it’s better than regeneration?”
“No. I can’t regrow or reattach lost appendages with fast healing like a troll can with regen- What the fu-“
Chaz saw a blur of grey fur leap past him from behind. He fell over, dropped his torch, curled up into a ball, and hoped for the best.
Just outside Chaz’s sphere of imagined security, a wolf tore a large patch of skin from the troll’s torso. Its intent had obviously been to tackle it right into the campfire, but the troll had been just a little too quick for that. Having failed at its primary objective, the wolf still managed to take a couple of souvenirs with it. One was about half the skin from the troll’s chest, including a nipple. The other, unfortunately, was three deep gashes in the side and a good solid dose of troll saliva. They each let out cries of pain.
“Where are you, druid whore?” the troll shrieked into the darkness beyond the campfire’s glow.
As Chaz watched, new skin grew over the wound the wolf had ripped in the troll’s chest. For a split second, curiosity overtook fear. “Dude, where’s your nipple?”
The troll looked down at the fresh patch of skin on its chest. “Hmph,” it said. “How about that? I guess nipples count as appendages.” It shouted into the darkness. “If you’ve got anything to say to your boyfriend or your stupid dog, now’s the time!” It laughed and spit on the ground. “Neither of them are going to be alive for very much longer!” It paused, but Katherine failed to take it up on its invitation.
It peered into the darkness, but was soon distracted by the sound of a low growl. It turned its head to see the wolf hobbling toward it, bleeding from the claw wounds in its side, but still baring a mouthful of very functional teeth. The troll took a step backward.
“I’m warning you!” the troll shouted into the forest. “Call this dog off. It’s not just some fucking pet, you know. This is your Animal Companion. If I kill it while you’re hiding behind a tree, you’ll never forgive yourself.”
The wolf did not back down. It limped slowly toward the troll, lips pulled back, baring teeth which shone yellow in the firelight. The hair stood up on its back as it snarled, growled, and drooled.
The troll took one more step back, and then stopped. “Fine,” it said. “I warned you. The despair you are about to feel is very real indeed.”
The wolf leaped up for a final desperate attack, and the troll snatched it out of the air by the throat. With one arm, the troll throttled the wolf, digging its claws into the beast’s throat until it was wearing a full gauntlet of wolf blood. Any final whine or howl that the wolf might have wanted to exit the world of the living with only came out as a red mist from its neck.
The troll grinned and tilted an ear toward the direction the wolf had come from. There was no gasp. No shriek. No sob. The troll looked disappointed and confused, but not half so much as it did a second later when the wolf’s limp body popped out of existence right there in its hand. It stared at its empty clawed hand, grasping a fistful of air and still dripping saliva, but no longer dripping blood.
Understanding dawned on the troll’s face, and it nodded a begrudging approval. “I suppose you think you’re pretty clever right about now,” it said to the dark trees on the perimeter of the camp. “Well guess what. Your boyfriend here isn’t going to just vanish into the air when I kill him. He’s going to scream and cry and beg for mercy. And what are you going to do? Hide in the trees? Spend the rest of your short life wondering if you might have been able to save him if you hadn’t been such a – OW! MOTHERFUCKER!”
The back end of an arrow sprouted out of one of the troll’s eyes, and it looked to be having a hell of a time trying to pull it out. Suddenly, another arrow stuck into the smooth, nipple-less flesh of the troll’s chest.
Chaz threw up. He wasn’t sure if it had been a reaction to seeing the troll with an arrow sticking out of his eye, or thinking about the word ‘nipple-less’, or the poison in his body. He suspected he might have a fever as well. He wanted to feel his forehead, but needed both arms to hold himself up if he was going to avoid falling face first into his own vomit. There was no excuse for him to be lying here. There would be time enough to throw up after this thing was dead. He pushed back from his vomit and sat up. He looked around for his rapier and spotted it a few feet away. He started crawling on hands and knees toward it when he was knocked over in another rush of gray fur.
The wolf leaped into the air and caught the troll’s throat in its jaws. The troll gurgled out what might have been a swear and stumbled backward. Trying to keep its balance, it jerked out the arm holding the arrow in its eye, pulling the entire eye out with it, along with a slimy trail of optic nerve. The wolf tore out the section of throat it had a grip on and pushed itself off the troll, knocking it backward into the fire.
The troll’s screams and howls were like daggers in Chaz’s brain. When he was able to pull his gaze away from it, he saw the wolf lying down on its belly, happily gnawing away at troll throat.
The troll made one last effort to crawl out of the fire, but the wolf was having none of it. It bit hard into a foot which was sticking out of the flames and dragged the troll deeper in.
Chaz sat up again just in time to see the troll’s remaining eye melt and run down the side of its face. It looked like an egg. Chaz threw up again. The troll’s howls eventually gave way to a series of coughs, a gurgle, and then even that was drowned out by the crackle of the fire. The wolf let go of the troll’s foot, and it fell lifeless to the ground.
After a moment or two had passed and the wolf continued to stand, growling at the burning corpse, Chaz reckoned that this wolf was the genuine article and took some comfort in the fact that Katherine would be close by. He crawled to the nearest tree and used it to support himself as he stood up.
He looked around, but there was no sign of Katherine. It was too dark, and the light was growing dimmer still. He looked with alarm at the campfire. Troll, apparently, didn’t burn like wood. As more skin burned away, more blood, as well as other bodily fluids, leaked out of the fire to challenge the flames.
“Shit,” he muttered. He was in no shape to gather wood, so he fell to his knees and looked for anything that might burn in his immediate surroundings. There were pine cones. He cleaned the area immediately surrounding him, hoping that this would keep the fire from going completely out before Katherine brought more wood. Then he scooted over a bit, mindful to avoid his puddles of vomit, and cleared the area around there as well. His efforts didn’t seem to be making a huge difference, except that the thick white smoke which carried with it the stench of burning troll also now carried with it a trace of pine. This was of little comfort to Chaz, whose sphere of visibility was growing smaller by the second.
“Butterbean!” came Katherine’s voice from the woods.
Chaz wondered, as he lazily chucked another pine cone onto the fire, if he were given an infinite amount of time and paper, and were asked to continue writing what he thought the next word he was going to hear out of Katherine’s mouth just a moment ago, how many centuries and libraries’ worth of paper he would go through before he came up with the word “butterbean”.
The wolf seemed to be less conf
used by the word. It stood at attention, its ears perked up.
“Butterbean, are you okay?”
The wolf, Butterbean apparently, barked twice in the direction Katherine’s voice had come from. Katherine stepped into the fading circle of light a moment later, carrying a bunch of sticks. It just might be enough to keep the fire alive.
“Kat,” Chaz panted. “Hurry up. Keep the fire going.”
Katherine dumped her entire bundle on the top of the pile, making less effort to keep the fire alive, and more effort to cover the sight of the scorched troll body. She grimaced, looked over at Chaz, and grimaced again.
“Oh my god!” said Katherine. “What happened to you?”
“Do I look that bad?” asked Chaz, bending over to spit out a gob of congealing blood.
“You look like shit.”
“I got speared in the chest. I think that troll had poisoned saliva or something.”
“Did it lick you?”
“No,” said Chaz, “But he sucked on the end of his spear before he put it in me.”
“That’s kind of-”
“Yeah, I know. I’d rather not think about it right now.” He threw another pine cone onto the fire, which was slowly starting to come back to life again. “You’d better go get some more wood.”
“Let me take a look at your chest first,” said Katherine. “Lie down.”
Chaz acquiesced. Something had shifted gears in his head. With the threat of the troll gone, and Katherine here to look after him, the desire for a nice long nap washed over him. His eyelids suddenly became very heavy.
He couldn’t have been out for more than half a second when he felt his face being slapped.
“You knock that shit off right now,” said Katherine. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and when I’m convinced you’ve got a good shot at waking up again, then you can go to sleep.”
“Just five more minutes, mom,” Chaz groaned.
Another slap in the face.
“Stay with me, Chaz,” said Katherine. “You’re really starting to scare the shit out of me.”
Chaz shook his head. “Kat?” He looked down at his chest. His shirt was unbuttoned and Katherine was smearing away a coating of half-dried blood, looking for his wound.
“Did you find any water in our bags?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said Chaz. “There’s a waterskin in each of our bags.”
“What the hell is a waterskin?”
“It’s like a canteen, but made out of a goat stomach or something.”
“That’s so gross,” said Katherine. “I’m not drinking any water that’s been in a fucking goat stomach.”
Chaz rolled his eyes, not wanting this to be his last conversation on Earth, or wherever the fuck he was. “It’s been cleaned and treated.”
“How clean can it be after being in a goat stomach?”
“I’m not talking about the water. I’m talking about the goat stomach.” His face wrenched in pain. “It’s no more gross than a leather bag, and it’s water tight.”
“Fine,” said Katherine. She scrambled over on hands and knees to their bags and returned a few seconds later with one of the waterskins. She unstoppered the bottle and poured some of the contents onto Chaz’s chest. He writhed in agony.
Katherine grimaced. “I don’t think that’s water,” she said. “It’s pink.”
Whatever it was, it got the job done. She was able to wipe away enough blood to find the small puncture wound in his chest. “Is this what all the fuss is about?” she asked. “It’s just a tiny little hole. It’s not even bleeding anymore. That’s good, right?”
Chaz spoke between deep, concentrated breaths. “There... was... a... fucking... spear... sticking... out... of... me...” He relaxed and closed his eyes. “It may have punctured an internal organ or something.”
Katherine sniffed the neck of the waterskin. “If you had an internal organ punctured, you’d know. And you certainly wouldn’t be moving around or throwing pine cones.” She poured a little more of the liquid on Chaz’s wound, letting some of it drip onto her finger tips. Chaz, breathing in suddenly, did sort of a reverse scream. Katherine tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to the tips of her fingers. “You know what?” she said cheerily. “I think this is wine!”
Katherine put the waterskin to her mouth and took a small sip. “Thank fuck, it is! I’ll tell you what, Chaz. If there was ever a day when I needed a fucking drink, it’s today.”
Katherine sat cross-legged on the ground, and rested Chaz’s head in her lap. He stared up at her. She took a long pull from the waterskin.
“Aaaahhh…” she said. “That’s the stuff.”
“Kat?” said Chaz, barely above a whisper.
“Yeah?” Katherine wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Where’s your bow?”
“What bow?” asked Katherine. “I don’t have a bow. I carry around a fucking farming implement, remember?”
Chaz gave up his struggle to stay awake. His vision blurred then faded then winked out completely.
Chapter 14
Katherine checked Chaz’s pulse and the breath coming out of his nose. Content that he had both, she sat back and took a long swig of wine. “Fucking moron,” she muttered, and let out a deep sigh.
A moment later, Butterbean let out a low growl, and then a series of sharp barks.
“Fuck,” said Katherine. “Now what?” She stoppered her flask, picked up her sickle, and stood up.
Butterbean was peering into the darkness of the forest, his constant growl punctuated here and there by sharp barks. Katherine stood next to him, trying to see anything that looked like it might be cause for alarm. There was, in fact, something... maybe even someone, out there. Yes. It was a person, and they were walking towards her. Was the person really far away? Or was it... yes, it was a child, walking very slowly and cautiously toward them, arms outstretched, holding a small sword unmenacingly in one hand, and a bow in the other.
Katherine narrowed her eyes, unstoppered her flask, and called out. “It’s a little late in the night to be bringing a basket of goodies to Grandma’s house, don’t you think?” She took another swig from the flask.
The figure stopped. Its arms dropped to its sides. “Kat?”
Katherine spit out a mouthful of wine, spraying her forearm and the waterskin. “Shit,” she grumbled. “Tim?” she called out. “Is that you?”
“Yeah!”
“Well what are you doing out there? Get over here! I’ve got booze!”
“Er...” Tim said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a giant wolf standing next to you.”
“Oh, right,” said Katherine. “Butterbean, shut up!”
Butterbean lowered his head and lay on the ground.
Katherine knelt down next to him. “Oh, I’m sorry, Butterbean. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that he’s my brother.” She stroked the wolf under the chin, and the look on his face told her that all was forgiven. “Come on over. He won’t hurt you.”
Tim cautiously closed the gap between them. Butterbean’s eyes never left him, and there was still the slight purr of a growl coming from within him.
Katherine gave the wolf a small tap on the head. “Hey,” she warned him. “That’s enough.”
Butterbean whimpered and lowered his head again. The growling ceased.
“He’ll warm up to you,” Katherine said to Tim. “Now how about you tell me why you are a little kid.”
“I’m not a little kid,” said Tim. “This is my full adult height. I’m a halfling.”
“Is that like a dwarf?”
“No,” said Tim patiently. “It’s like a halfling.”
“Come on, Tim,” Katherine pleaded. “Spare me the PC bullshit. I’ve had kind of a trying day.”
“It’s not PC bullshit. Halflings and dwarves are two different things. Dave is a dwarf.”
“Seriously?” Katherine laughed. “That’s awesome.” She passed the waterskin to Tim, who gratef
ully accepted it.
Tim greedily drank down a few gulps of wine. “God I needed that,” he said. “Listen, Kat. Can you keep your wolf at-”
“Butterbean.”
“What?”
“His name is Butterbean.”
“Why did you call your wolf Butterbean?”
“Remember when we were younger, and our parents wouldn’t let us have a puppy?”
“Barely. I must have been like four or five years old.”
“Butterbean was the name I wanted to call the puppy that we weren’t allowed to have.”
Tim shrugged. “Fair enough. Listen. Can you keep Butterbean at bay. I’m not alone.”
“Oh good. Did you go back for the guys?”
“What? No. You mean you haven’t found them yet?”
“Found them?” said Katherine. “We only just got here a little while ago.”
“Who’s we?”
“Me and Chaz.”
“Who the fuck is Chaz?”
“He’s my boyfr- He’s a guy I’ve been on a couple of dates with.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s sleeping. He got hurt by that... what was it? A troll?”
“I think so. Is he okay?”
“He could use some medical attention, but I think he’ll pull through.”
“You don’t sound too concerned.”
“Well he’s kind of an asshole,” said Katherine. “Didn’t you say something about not being alone?”
“Oh, right.” Tim turned around and whistled. Something shuffled in the underbrush, and he turned back to face her. “And you said something about me going back for the guys. Does that mean you know where they are?”
“Yeah. I think they’re in prison or something after trying to break you out.”
“What?”
“I’m pretty sure I got that right.”
“How the hell do you know all this?”
“A little birdie told me.”
“Kat,” Tim shouted. Butterbean growled. Tim lowered his voice. “This isn’t the time to fuck with me.”
“I’m not fucking with you. Okay, so it was an average sized bird... actually it was kind of big, but it talked in a British accent, and it could only understand me if I talked in a British accent. It told me about your friends, and said it was looking for you.”