Esmine, listen. You’re doing more than just clothing me. What is it? Why does everyone look so shocked?
“Oh, they’re just trying to figure out whether or not you’re a goddess,” Rolf replied, running a hand down Gwyrtha’s flank. He leaned over and sniffed at the rogue horse, a very un-Rolf-like smile on his face.
The sight of her grandfather acting like that bothered her. Stop that, Esmine. Just talk to me. What do you mean, goddess?
“We are glad to meet you, Miss Woodblade, but- uh, what you’re doing right now isn’t going to help your case with the Protector,” said one of the strangers. It was Sir Edge. The musclebound named warrior was looking at her with disbelieving eyes. “I’m assuming that your current appearance has something to do with the rogue horse that’s bound to your staff?”
“Probably. Am I glowing or something?” Tarah asked in embarrassment. She turned irritated thoughts towards her staff. You know I don’t like it when you make me glow.
“Why not? It’s effective,” replied Grampa Rolf. He placed a foot in the stirrup of Gwyrtha’s saddle. “Look at their reactions.”
“You’re more than just glowing, Tarah. You’re huge.” Willum said and from the way he kept averting his eyes, she wondered if the imp had told him she was naked.
“You’re fuzzy all over,” Cletus complained, one hand raised in front of his face. The gnome warrior could always tell when there were illusions around. He wasn’t immune to them like Djeri was, but they seemed to cause him discomfort. Especially when the illusions were surrounding Tarah. “And your voice hurts my ears.”
“Don’t worry. I just added a few enhancements. You know, perfected parts of you that were already there,” Rolf said, waving a hand absently. He swung his leg up and sat on Gwyrtha’s saddle. The rogue horse didn’t react, of course. Only Tarah knew that the apparition was there. “It makes you more impressive. Tarah Woodblade needs to inspire awe.”
What it does is make me stand out too much! You always go too far. She forced a smile at Sir Edge and the others. “I’m sorry. Esmine has a tendency to show off at times. I’ll get her to stop.” Stop ‘enhancing’ me, Esmine. Keep the illusion that I’m wearing my armor, but stop the rest of it.
“Even the nose?” said Grampa Rolf, raising one bushy eyebrow. He looked awkward sitting on the rogue horse’s back, like someone who had never ridden a horse before. “You hate when people comment on your nose.”
Even the nose, she replied. They’ll find out about it sooner or later. If they think Tarah Woodblade is ashamed of her own face, it’ll make me look weak.
“If that’s what you want,” Rolf said with a grumpy sigh and waved his arm theatrically.
Tarah didn’t feel any different, but she knew that Esmine had done as she asked because the Roo-Tan warriors relaxed, some of them looking positively relieved. One more thing, Esmine. If you wouldn’t mind, can you let me see what they’re seeing?
Grampa Rolf shrugged and Tarah sighed as she saw the leather armor Bettie had given her appear on her body. She couldn’t feel the armor on her skin, but it helped her not feel so naked.
“Is that better?” Tarah asked the assembled warriors.
“You look and sound like yourself again, Tarah,” Willum said.
“You still look fuzzy,” Cletus grumbled.
“Well, there you go,” said Djeri loudly, his voice covering up Cletus’ grumblings. “You got a glimpse at what Tarah’s magic can do. Can you see why we didn’t want to go around advertising that fact?”
“I suppose so, dwarf,” Qurl replied, still looking at Tarah with wary eyes.
“It was a quaint demonstration,” said Jhonate. Tarah noted that the female warrior was the only one of the Roo-Tan that didn’t look suitably impressed. “But your staff’s abilities have nothing to do with the reason we are here. Willum says that you have information regarding this army of demons that have invaded our country.”
Tarah frowned slightly and glanced over to Willum. Just how much had he told them already? “This is true. The army is close to thirteen hundred strong at this point.
“Your friends told my father that there were fifteen hundred,” said Qurl, sending a glare towards Djeri.
“That was the count when we crossed the river into Malaroo,” Tarah replied. She allowed herself a self-satisfied smile. “They were at their strongest at that point, but the journey across Malaroo was hard for ‘em. They had to stick pretty close to the swamps to avoid being seen. They lost a lot of scouts to drowning and troll attacks. You know.” She wiggled her fingers. “Illusions.”
“It was mainly kobalds that were killed,” Djeri added. “The imps are harder to trick.”
Tarah nodded. “At my last count, the army consists of four hundred and eighty imps, seven hundred kobalds, give or take. And then there’s the smattering of humans and gnome warriors that serve Aloysius.”
“Thirteen hundred,” Sir Edge said, his expression thoughtful.
“That is not so many,” Qurl said confidently. “A minor threat.”
Tarah snorted in disbelief. “A minor threat? Mud and leaves! It’s a demon blasted army!”
“We are not discounting the danger this army poses,” Jhonate assured Tarah, then gave her brother a pointed look. “The Roo-Tan do not allow foreign forces in our lands.”
“I was not suggesting we ignore the army, sister,” Qurl said, offended by the reaction to his statement. “I was simply noting that their numbers are insignificant compared to ours. Father could dispatch an army ten times that size from Roo-Tan’lan alone.”
Several of the other Roo-Tan warriors nodded their heads in agreement and Tarah felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. This was the same attitude she had seen in Alberri all over again. They weren’t going to take her seriously.
“You’re losing ‘em,” said Grampa Rolf, still sitting awkwardly in the rogue horse’s saddle. “Can’t allow that. Tarah Woodblade commands attention. Maybe if I added some lightning shooting from your eyes?”
No, she replied, but maybe Esmine was right. Maybe being Tarah Woodblade the tracker wasn’t enough. Maybe she needed to be seen as a god. She shook her head and opened her mouth to yell at them, but Willum spoke up first.
“I think you are missing the point!” he said. “These aren’t normal soldiers. You can’t fight them one-for-one.”
“Perhaps dry foot warriors cannot, but we are Roo-Tan!” said one proud warrior. “We have battled the demon merpeople many times.”
“You haven’t faced these kind of demons,” Willum drew his axe and the runes along its surface glowed as if it had a molten core. The warriors took a wary step back, gripping their weapons. “Do you know what it means to fight an imp? I can tell you because there’s one bound to this axe.”
Willum raised the axe over his head. The runes brightened and smokeless flames burst from them, licking their way up the wickedly curved blade. At the same time, a gust of wind came through the trees and swirled around him, causing the flames to rise and twist into the air. A burst of heat emanated from the axe, causing the warriors to take another step back.
“More illusions?” Qurl asked.
“Not this time,” said Sir Edge. He was the only one of them that didn’t seem disturbed by the display. “He really does have an imp in his axe.”
“If you’ve fought merpeople you should know that every demon can use elemental magic!” Willum pronounced. “It’s part of their very makeup. Imps are born with the ability to use fire and air. Kobalds are born with the ability to use earth and water. They grow up learning how to wield magic in battle the same way you learn to use your Jharro weapons.” He jabbed the weapon into the air one more time for emphasis and then the flames died down. He slid the axe back into the half-sheath that hung at his hip. “Do you understand what we’re telling you? Facing these demons is like facing an army of wizards, but even more dangerous because they all know how to fight.”
Qurl cleared his throat and raised a hand to si
lence the boisterous warrior, “We can see your point.”
Tarah was impressed. Willum wasn’t usually so commanding a presence. He usually seemed content to sit back and let others lead.
“Alright, he’s got their attention,” said Grampa Rolf, nodding his old head in approval. “Now it’s up to Tarah Woodblade to close the deal.”
“I don’t think you do understand, son of Xedrion,” Tarah said, turning the eyes of the assembled warriors back to her. “Because it’s worse than that. The reason it’s worse is because of who is in charge of this army. His name is Aloysius. In Alberri, he was known as a gnome scholar, but he’s a warrior too. And he’s as brilliant a tactician as any in the known lands.”
“He’s something that hasn’t been seen in centuries,” Djeri added, pausing for emphasis. “A gnome warlord.”
If he had expected that announcement to impress the warriors, he was disappointed. The Roo-Tan people, like most of the world, thought of gnomes as a foolish race. Gnome scholars were highly intelligent, but unable to take care of themselves. And their warriors, though tremendously skilled, were too stupid to be a threat.
The only person to react with interest to the words gnome warlord was Sir Edge. “You’re leaving something out,” the named warrior said.
Willum, who had been hoping for support from his friend, frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Willum, you told me that she’s been using her magic on this gnome warlord’s tracks,” Edge said. “To know what he’s been thinking.”
“I have,” said Tarah.
“Then what is his plan, Miss Woodblade?” Edge’s gaze was focused on Tarah, his eyes pensive. It was the same her father used to give her when he was about to lecture her. She didn’t like seeing that look in the eyes of someone she didn’t know. “Why did he drag those demons all the way here?”
“Hmm,” said Grampa Rolf. The old man had disappeared from Gwyrtha’s saddle and now stood by the named warrior, peering at him closely. “He’s a keen one, this bonding wizard. Be careful how much you tell him.”
Rolf was right. The truth was complicated. Tarah decided to stick to her planned statement. It wasn’t a lie, after all, and it was likely the best way to get the attention of the Roo-Tan. She kept her voice even, “He wants to conquer the Jharro Grove.”
This got a snarl out of the Roo-Tan, but Edge merely cocked his head. “There has to be more to it than that. Qurl wasn’t wrong with what he said earlier. An army this small, whether they’re made up of demons or not, has no hope of being able to get past the Roo-Tan. If this gnome is as great a tactician as you say, then he’s well aware of that.”
“You’re right about that. He’s not planning on attacking the grove with this army alone,” Tarah said. “It’s not completely clear. I mean, there’s a lot of jumbled information in the tracks, but he’s planning on meeting up with a larger army later.”
“The Roo-Dan and the merpeople,” Jhonate said, her eyes growing wide in understanding. “They are bringing in a general to lead them.”
The Roo-Tan warriors mumbled, their expressions concerned, and Qurl said, “Is that what they’ve been waiting for?”
“It makes sense,” said Sir Edge, his gaze contemplative. “They’ve been gathering for months, amassing their strength, then nothing. The merpeople representative that Xedrion has been talking to could just be a distraction while they wait for this Aloysius to arrive.”
“We must tell my father right away,” Jhonate said. She focused on Tarah. “You must come with us. He will wish to speak with you.”
“And there you go,” said Grampa Rolf. He was standing in Gwyrtha’s saddle now, doing an awful parody of Cletus’ trick riding. “See? I told you they’d listen if you gave ‘em enough mystery.”
Tarah smiled. He was right. It was coming together. The Protector of the Grove would have to help her. After all the time she’d wasted following Aloysius around, she would finally have the resources to stop him.
“I have one more question before we leave, Miss Woodblade,” said Sir Edge.
She was feeling so good that she rattled off one of her old sayings in response. “That ain’t my name. Tarah Woodblade never misses.”
“Tarah, then,” he replied, a grin curling the corner of his mouth. “In your examination of these tracks, did you ever find any mention of the Stranger?”
Tarah blinked at him. How did he know about that? She hadn’t told anyone. Only the tracks of the demon leadership had mentioned anything about it and their thoughts hadn’t made sense. “Well . . . I have picked up a few thoughts here and there. I can’t say as I understand them.”
“It’s best we stay out of that part of it,” Grampa Rolf counseled. He raised a finger and said sagely, “The Stranger’s business is none of our business.”
Why? Tarah asked, frowning at her grandfather’s apparition. It wasn’t the first time Rolf had said that. He used to say that when she was a child. It had never made sense to her. She wondered why Esmine had chosen that memory to regurgitate.
“What did these thoughts say?” Sir Edge pressed.
“There was mainly just a general excitement,” Tarah replied. “Aloysius had promised them control of the Stranger.”
“Shh! Don’t talk about the Stranger, Pretty Tarah,” Cletus said. The gnome warrior had been surprisingly quiet during the conversation, content to polish the various implements that he could attach to the ends of his chain. Now he stood, his tall frame hunched over as he wrung his hands with fear. “He will come to get us! He’ll take away our baby parts!”
“Nonsense, Cletus. The Stranger’s just a myth. He isn’t going to do anything to you,” Djeri said reassuringly, patting the gnome’s forearm. He looked at the rest of them. “Aloysius must be using the demons’ belief in the Stranger to get them to cooperate with him. Clever. I never would have thought of that.” He chuckled, an idea suddenly occurring to him. “Hey, maybe we can use that to our advantage. Once the demons learn he was lying, they’ll turn on him.”
Willum shook his head. “Sorry, Djeri. Theodore says the Stranger does exist. He’s just been in hiding.”
“I can confirm that,” Sir Edge added. “He’s most definitely not a myth. I met him yesterday. The Prophet took me to see him.”
“Just a minute-,” Tarah started.
“No way,” Djeri said to Sir Edge, his voice incredulous. “You met the Stranger? Here. In Malaroo.”
“I did,” Edge replied. “Not half a day’s ride from where we stand.”
“Did he have red eyes and big sharp teeth?” Cletus asked, then gasped, his face concerned. “Did he cut off your wee wee?”
“He most definitely did not!” Jhonate said. Qurl raised an eyebrow at her and her cheeks reddened. “I am certain he would have mentioned that sort of injury.”
“No, he didn’t,” Edge assured the gnome. “That part is a myth. As for how he looked, he was arrogant and a bit of a grump, but he looked human.”
“Oh! Good,” said the gnome warrior. There was still a hint of fear in his eyes. “But he’s not coming here?”
“No,” said Sir Edge. “It sounds to me like he has quite a bit of trouble on his hands elsewhere.”
“Okay, stop for a second!” Tarah said. “Someone tell me who the hell this Stranger is.”
None of our business, repeated Grampa Rolf’s voice. He had disappeared from Gwyrtha’s saddle and now spoke in her mind only. Tarah didn’t know if his voice was coming from Esmine or her own twisted thoughts.
“I thought he was a crone’s tale,” Djeri replied. “Something dwarf mothers told their children to keep them in line.”
“Theodore says that he is one of the prophets, like John or the Dark Prophet,” said Willum. The young man looked excited, like he had just learned the answer to a question he’d had for a long time.
“If he’s a prophet, then how come I’ve never heard of him?” Tarah asked. Though it was true she had been raised in the woods by her papa and grampa, she w
as well read. Tarah loved books and had purchased and read every book she could find, from adventure stories to histories. She prided herself in her breadth of knowledge.
“I don’t like him being called a prophet,” Djeri said with a look of disgust. “The Stranger is nothing like John.”
“Actually,” said Sir Edge. “When I was standing in front of him, I thought he was quite a bit like John. The difference between him and the others is that while the Dark Prophet tries to conquer and the Prophet actively guides his people, the Stranger hides. He sits in the shadows, manipulating the blood magic and demon races from afar, using his magic to control their fertility.”
“He’s lazy, is what Theodore says,” Willum said. “All he cares about is the balance, making sure that no one group of people becomes too strong. The demon races hate him for it.”
The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) Page 6