The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9)

by Trevor H. Cooley

  Jhonate heard her mother scoff at the concept of Roo-Dan leaders. The Dan had always been a numerous, but disorganized group of independent villages, each ruled by chieftains or witches. It was obvious to Jhonate that the concept of this ‘collective’ was merely a politically acceptable way for the merpeople to subjugate the Roo-Dan people. Not that it particularly bothered her.

  “I was not aware that you brought a prepared treaty with you,” Xedrion said.

  Elder Qelvyn chuckled. “I have not. My arrival here has been exploratory in nature, my goal merely to see if you were amenable to a treaty between our two nations.” The smile left his face. “And I must say that so far your treatment of me has been less than cordial. I have been starved and harassed, accused of all sorts of treachery. All of my correspondence to and from my people has been opened and read. I have been confined to my quarters for the majority of my stay and the one time I was allowed a walk through the gardens I was stalked by a-a horrific beast. Is that the way you wish the relationship between our peoples to begin?”

  The protector’s jaw flexed and Jhonate knew that her father was really angry now. “Elder Qelvyn. Our treatment of you has been more than gentle considering the many atrocities committed by both the Pearl Cove Merpeople and the Roo-Dan over the centuries. I would expect some gratitude that you were not simply slaughtered upon arrival.”

  The ambassador’s jaw dropped in shock. “Why I never expected such rudeness from the Protector of the Grove himself.”

  “Before you go and accuse me of rudeness, merman, perhaps you should look in the mirror at your own waterlogged face,” Xedrion snapped. Then he swallowed and continued in a level tone, “That being said, I do feel inclined to consider a treaty between our countries. An assurance that we should not expect attack would be a relief to our people.”

  Elder Qelvyn composed himself quickly. “That is good news indeed. My people will be happy to hear it.”

  “If you were to take such news back to your country what would be the next step?” Xedrion asked.

  “Why, I am not exactly sure, but I assume that we would prepare our treaty document and contact you regarding a summit where we could discuss the details,” Qelvyn replied.

  “Very well,” Xedrion replied. “That is my current intention. I will need to speak with the heads of all the Roo-Tan houses of course and we will draft a document of our own.”

  The ambassador gave the Protector a short bow. “As we would expect.”

  “I will have you taken back to your rooms where you can prepare for your return journey,” the Protector said. He raised a finger. “I may, however, wish to meet with you one last time before you leave.”

  “Of course,” the merman said bowing briefly again before Xedrion’s guards escorted him away.

  As soon as the door shut behind the ambassador, Herlda spoke up. “I do not like this.”

  Xedrion’s first wife was as different from Jhonate’s mother as Jhonate was from Vannya. Herlda was a proud warrior and wore a dark hide breastplate. A Jharro sword hung at her waist and black ribbons were interwoven with the gray speckled hair in her braids.

  Xedrion nodded and looked to his second oldest son.

  Hubrin was a large and muscular man, nearly equal in stature to his father. The black ribbons in his hair matched his mother’s. “My first instinct says that they only seek this treaty to find a way to betray us. But what if that is not the case? Father, if an agreement can be struck and if they will keep to it, what a relief that would be.”

  “Well said, son,” Xedrion replied. He looked to Justan. “What say you, Sir Edge?”

  Justan glanced at Jhonate and cleared his throat. “Well, sir. I cannot say that I have a good read of the collective’s true intentions towards your people, but what Elder Qelvyn said is correct. What good would it do them to attack the grove? There is nothing to be gained there.”

  Jhonate stood. “They have attacked in the past! Many people see the Jharro Grove as a resource that can be harvested, even if it isn’t completely destroyed.”

  Xedrion’s glare was piercing. “Did I ask for your input, Jhonate?”

  Jhonate’s cheeks colored. “No, sir,” she said and sat back down.

  Her father looked back to Justan, “Continue, Sir Edge.”

  Justan nodded, sending Jhonate an apologetic glance. “I was examining your maps earlier, Protector, and I observed that the current territory occupied by this proposed nation covers the coastline down to the swamps and also the land northward between here and The Kingdom of Benador.”

  “Yes. This new nation would effectively hem us in,” Hubrin said,

  “Actually, tactically speaking, this could be beneficial,” Justan replied. “Our main goal is to protect the grove from invasion. In the past, the Roo-Dan villages were little deterrent to an army invading from the north or coming in by ship. But as a fortified nation, this Mer-Dan Collective would be an effective barrier against attack from those directions. We already have the barriers of the mountains to the west and the troll swamps to our south. The addition of this new ally would mean we’d be insulated in all directions.”

  Jhonate’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Justan had accorded himself quite well. This was exactly the kind of tactical intelligence she had hoped he would display.

  Xedrion nodded. “Excellent points, Sir Edge. I will take them into account when I meet with the houses this evening.” He looked at Herlda and Hubrin, who were frowning thoughtfully. “We will adjourn for now and reconvene after dinner.”

  “Can I go too, Father?” Trincy complained.

  Jhandra rolled her eyes. “Fine, abandon your mother.”

  Xedrion smiled and nodded. “Go on. Report to your teachers.”

  “Thanks, Father!” Trincy said and ran for the door, passing up Herlda and Hubrin on his way out.

  Jhonate stood again. “Father, I have something to discuss with you.”

  “Indeed?” Xedrion said. “Is this why you skulked in when you clearly were not invited?”

  Jhonate met his level gaze. “Please excuse me. I was not aware that my presence would be so unwanted.”

  Xedrion pointed at her. “We will go over that matter shortly. In the meantime, what did you need to discuss?”

  “I received a visit by Mage Vannya today,” Jhonate replied.

  “Oh,” Xedrion said, looking unsettled.

  “She had discovered some intriguing facts about those troll creatures that we have been coming across. She would like to report her findings and has a request to make, but has had difficulty getting in to see you. Is there a reason that you do not wish to speak with her?”

  Xedrion sighed and glanced over at Jhandra. “The difficulty with that girl is that she is just too pretty. Do you not think so, Sir Edge?”

  Justan nearly choked and his eyes darted briefly at Jhonate. “Uh, that has been said about her, sir.”

  To Jhonate’s further irritation Xedrion said, “Indeed. I do not see how speaking with her personally would be productive.”

  “What he means is that he sees her and he starts thinking about marrying again,” Jhandra said with a shake of her head.

  “And that is the last thing I need to be thinking about at the moment with a possible war on our hands,” Xedrion agreed.

  “Just a moment father,” Jhonate said, her eyes as wide as Justan’s. “You are thinking of marriage with her?”

  Jhandra laughed. “Of course not! She is an outsider and an elemental magic user of all things. Can you imagine the furor that would erupt if he suggested such a thing? I was speaking in a generality. Pretty girls always get your father thinking.”

  Xedrion cleared his throat. “Would you care to tell me what she has discovered, Jhonate?”

  Frowning, Jhonate told them what Vannya had explained to her earlier. Then she told them about the mage’s request. “I explained to her that such a trip would be too dangerous and that you were unlikely to support it,” she said.

  “Sen
ding her into the troll swamps would seem a bit foolhardy,” Jhandra agreed.

  “Actually, sir,” Justan said. “Vannya’s idea isn’t a bad one. We have no idea what kind of threat these troll things are. Considering everything else that you are dealing with, it probably isn’t a bad idea to send her out. I would be willing to send Deathclaw with her as an escort. He has been feeling pretty cooped up here in the city.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I have a better solution,” Xedrion replied. “I believe I will send her to see Old Stolz down on the swamp’s edge.”

  “Stolz?” Justan said and Jhonate could read enough of his emotions through the ring to know that the name was familiar to him, though he couldn’t quite place it.

  “Is he that old hermit?” Jhonate said.

  “He is,” Jhandra replied. “And I think he is crazy no matter how smart your father thinks he is.”

  “Stolz is a troll expert,” Xedrion corrected her. “He has been studying the Troll Swamps for decades trying to find a way for our people to reclaim it.”

  “A lost cause,” Jhandra said.

  “Perhaps,” Xedrion acknowledged. The Roo-Tan had spent many centuries trying to fight back the menaces of the swamp before finally understanding that they didn’t have the means to accomplish it. “But of all of us, he is the one most likely to know about these creatures and perhaps be able to give this mage a better idea of whether or not they are a threat to our people. Jhonate, tell her that we will put together an expedition to accompany her there. With everything else we are dealing with I am reluctant to commit too many resources.”

  “I have some suggestions in that regard,” Justan said. “I can put together a list of names.”

  Xedrion gave him a grateful nod. “Do so. And now, if you do not mind, I would like to address something with my daughter alone.”

  “Oh. Of course, sir,” Justan said. He looked at Jhonate. “I’ll be waiting at the archery range.”

  Jhonate watched him leave, then turned on Xedrion before he could begin. “Father why you have not been inviting me to these meetings?”

  Xedrion looked to his wife. “Did I not announce my intention to address something first?”

  Jhandra shrugged. “She is Jhonate.”

  “Father, do not avoid the question. I had been attending all your planning meetings for weeks. Why do you suddenly stop inviting me? Have I not been useful to you in the past?”

  “Yes, your input has been useful, even if you are a bit hot-headed,” he admitted.

  “Then why leave me out?” she asked. “Especially since you have been letting Sir Edge attend.”

  Xedrion smiled and patted her fondly on the shoulder. “You, dear daughter, need to allow your betrothed to spend some time with me without your presence.”

  She frowned. That’s what this was about? “And why is that?”

  “How can he take proper measure of the man when you keep interfering?” Jhandra asked.

  She blinked at her mother, then looked back at her father. “How do I interfere? I let him say what he wishes. I do not correct him.”

  “Jhonate, your very presence in the room changes his behavior,” Xedrion replied. “When you are watching him, he stands straighter. He chooses his words more carefully.”

  “This is a problem?” That sounded optimal to her.

  “One of the reasons I have always found Hilt’s presence so useful is his tendency to be at ease in tense situations,” Xedrion explained. “He often tells me things that my other advisors would be reluctant to say. Your Sir Edge has many of these same qualities, but those benefits are erased once you enter the room.”

  Jhonate’s brow tightened as his words sank in. Did she really make Justan so nervous? “He does not have this problem when we are alone.”

  Xedrion chuckled and reached around her with one arm, giving her a fatherly squeeze. “Do not worry yourself. Men always watch themselves around women they are trying to impress. The fact that he is trying to impress me as well merely amplifies it. Once you are married this will change. Especially once you allow yourself to relax around him.”

  “Allow myself to relax? I . . .” She turned in her father’s arm, her eyes wide. “You said ‘once you are married’. Does this mean you have decided to allow it?”

  He released her and folded his arms. “I . . . suppose that I have come to terms with your betrothal.”

  “No. You said ‘married’,” Jhonate replied with a smile.

  “He did,” Jhandra agreed.

  Xedrion couldn’t help but smile back. “Very well. I did.”

  Jhonate’s smile grew wider and she pointed at her father. “You like him.”

  “I do,” he admitted. “Do you realize how long it has been since I have seen you smile?”

  “That is because you have not seen me alone with Edge very often,” she replied.

  Her mother snorted and Xedrion’s smile faded a bit while he contemplated her meaning.

  “You must tell him that you approve,” Jhonate said excitedly. She embraced him. “Stay here, father, and do not change your mind. When I come back I expect you to tell him of your approval.”

  “Hurry, then,” he replied with a chuckle.

  “Do not let him back out,” Jhonate told her mother. Jhandra gave her an assuring nod and Jhonate rushed through the Jharro wood door.

  To her surprise, she found Justan standing right outside the door. He was talking to Relf, the messenger.

  “Surely that’s not so bad,” Justan was saying. “I’m certain she’ll show up soon.”

  Relf winced. “I do not know about that, sir.”

  “What is it?” Jhonate asked.

  “It’s Tarah Woodblade,” Justan said. “She isn’t in her assigned quarters and her friends aren’t sure where she’s gone. Relf is concerned.”

  Relf nodded. “Your father sent me to retrieve her. He has a task he’d like her to complete. ”

  “It was my idea, actually,” Justan told Jhonate. “I figured she could use her tracking magic to tell us what that merman ambassador is really planning. That way your father will have a better picture of what he is up against before he speaks to the houses.”

  “Actually, Sir,” said the messenger hesitantly. “The thing I’ve been trying to tell you is that I may have an idea where she has gone.” He licked his lips. “And the Protector is not going to like it.”

  Chapter Ten

  Tarah pushed her way through the thick jungle undergrowth, her every sense focused on the terrain around her. She had been in this country for a few weeks now, but she still wasn’t comfortable with the environment here. She was used to the thorny vines and brambles and poison oak of Dremaldria, but she didn’t know all the perils of Malaroo yet. She used every bit of plant and animal lore that she knew, but still found herself surprised from time to time.

  “Aww, come on, Tarah,” said her papa. Gad the Brawler, the burly berserker turned woodsman, strode through the vegetation with practiced ease. He was wearing his familiar trail garb; a loose brown shirt up top and rugged leather pants below, his cuffs tucked into his boots. He had a bow and quiver slung over his shoulders. His sword, the Ramsetter, was nowhere to be seen. “Don’t get caught up on the small stuff. You’re a woodsman through and through. I didn’t raise no daughter that couldn’t take two steps without checking her boots.”

  “Ain’t just avoiding. I’m learning,” Tarah said, bending down to take a closer look at a wide mushroom.

  The mushroom was white on top, but had a scarlet underbelly. She felt around underneath it and her fingers brushed the tracks of a mouse that had sheltered underneath the mushroom. A tiny series of memories entered her mind. The mouse hadn’t seen the mushroom as food, but it hadn’t been wary of it either. It might be edible. She cut a small piece of the mushroom free and tucked it into a pouch to test further later.

  “The more I know about this place, the more safe I can keep my friends,” she said. “They depend on me.”


  She had learned her lesson about Malaroo’s dangers early on. During their first week in the country, Cletus had picked up a colorful frog that had given him a wicked swelling rash. Not long after that, Djeri had received a painful bite from a large spider that had hidden in a bunch of bananas. Tarah had treated the wound, but if he hadn’t been a dwarf, the poison could have proven fatal.

  “Well, I have always taught you diligence,” Gad said in approval. “But we’re heading someplace exciting and there’s no need to go slow. Why don’t we just take one of the trails? They’re well-worn and danger-free.”

  “They also tend to contain people that we’ll have to avoid,” Tarah replied. “We’re not supposed to be here, remember?”