The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9)

by Trevor H. Cooley

  The rogue horse grew larger again to accommodate taking all of them at once and the wizard sighed pitifully. “Come along, everyone. I’ll strap us on.”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  The grassy valley was broad and bowl-shaped and treeless. The bottom was a shallow grassy marshland fed by a stream that poured out of the edges of the Troll Swamps. The water was no deeper than a foot in most places and the marsh was full of small fish and frogs and was loud with the buzz of flies and other insects.

  The armies began arriving a few days before the meeting and the border line of the two nations was marked with white painted stakes that were driven into the ground. Tensions were bound to be high and both sides were ordered to remain a fair distance from the line at all times. Camps were set up and units formed.

  As per the terms of the agreement Xedrion had sent back with his messenger, Roo-Tan men travelled to the center of the valley and built a wide wooden platform in the midst of the shallow marsh. This is where the leaders of the two nations would meet to discuss the details of the treaty. On the water, but not in the water. A compromise since so many of the protector’s counsellors were wary of the merpeople and their affinity for water magic.

  The Mer-Dan had wanted a large tent to cover the meeting, but Xedrion had objected. He wanted the terms discussed in the open, in full view of both armies. The Mer-Dan countered with a concern that a sudden rainstorm could come in and destroy the treaty documents. Another compromise was struck. The Roo-Tan raised four large poles around the platform and stretched a piece of canvas above the platform, providing shade and a modicum of protection from the elements.

  When Justan arrived with Xedrion’s party on the day of the meeting, both armies were already staged and waiting. It was an awesome sight. Twenty thousand Roo-Dan savages on one side of the valley, their skin painted in various colors, small troops of armored demons scattered through their ranks. On the other side, twenty thousand Roo-Tan warriors, archers and infantry, their ranks bristling with Jharro weapons.

  The centuries of enmity between them had caused an air of thick tension that was palpable across the valley. Justan had seen large forces meet in battle before at the academy during the siege and later at the battle for the Mage School. But he didn’t want to imagine what this would be like, two forces so evenly matched.

  War is an awful business, said Artemus from within the bond. Always best to avoid it if one can.

  The last few weeks had been good for the spirit of Justan’s great grandfather. Justan had stayed away from the grove as much as he could and Artemus had been able to gain more and more control over the Scralag. It was a gradual process, and Justan devoted as much time to it as he could, conversing with Artemus and keeping him thinking. The old wizard hoped that he would be fully in control of himself by the time they were able to return to the Mage School and he could finally be reunited with his old wife Sarine.

  Justan hoped he wouldn’t need Artemus’ help sooner. “I so want this treaty to work,” he said.

  Me too, said Gwyrtha from underneath him. The rogue horse loved a good battle but she was gentle at heart. She had no desire to see a mass slaughter.

  Success is doubtful, said Deathclaw, walking at Gwyrtha’s side. The raptoid’s face was a constant mask of irritation. His senses were disturbed by the close proximity of so many humans. The enemy is treacherous.

  Deathclaw’s supposition was probably correct. The gnome warlord didn’t come all the way to Malaroo just to broker a dispute between two peoples that had nothing to do with his country. Tarah said that he wished to conquer the grove, but did not necessarily plan to do so through bloodshed. He also didn’t plan to destroy it, which told Justan that he likely wanted to mine it for its resources. Possibly Jharro sap for potions and wood to provide weapons for his armies.

  Justan was certain that particular goal was somewhere at the heart of this meeting. He was also certain that Xedrion would never give in to such demands. Not after so long keeping any foreigners from coming near the holy place.

  Once again, Justan wondered why the Prophet wasn’t here. The grove was within his realm of responsibility. He had told Tarah there were other places that needed his help, but what could be more important than a meeting that could possibly decide the future of the grove?

  One thing that I learned through the years is that it does no good trying to understand the priorities of the Prophet, Artemus said. John is a complicated man with a point of view it is impossible for a common man to relate to. Just know that, though John is fallible, his mistakes are rare and when he does err it is never on the side of evil. IF he felt that his attention was needed more elsewhere, then it is a dire situation indeed.

  I suppose you’re right, Justan said. It’s just so hard knowing that he could come in here and single handedly make sure things turned out right.

  You don’t know that to be the case. The Prophet’s presence often complicates things as much as it helps, Artemus replied with a dry chuckle. When he’s around, people fear to make any decisions without asking him first. This is why he has few friends and rarely stays in one place for a long period of time. It’s a lonely life.

  Justan realized that was true. Even during the siege of the Mage School, he came and went, always on some errand or another. Perhaps that was a secondary reason he hadn’t stayed.

  As Xedrion’s procession reached the valley’s edge, the army parted to allow him through to the center platform. Four of the protector’s sons led the procession. Sen, Qurl, Fleen and Jhexin. He had left his oldest remaining son Hubrin in charge in Roo-Tan’lan along with the rest of his children in case the Mer-Dan planned some sort of attack on the city while they were away. Xedrion walked behind them with his first wife, Herlda at his right arm. On his left walked Tolynn, her petite frame covered in a shifting armor of Jharro wood. Jhonate and two of her sisters walked behind them.

  Justan and his bonded, along with Tarah and her companions were forced to stay at the outskirts of the army. As outsiders, they were there in a supportive role only. Justan exchanged encouraging glances with Jhonate before the ranks of soldiers closed behind her.

  Do not worry for me, Justan, she said, sending her thoughts through the Jharro ring she had given him. If there is treachery, I am not so easy to kill.

  It is not you that I am worried for. When this thing’s over, you might be the only one left standing, he replied.

  On the other side of the valley, the Mer-Dan army began to part as their procession arrived.

  “There he is,” said Tarah with a glare as she watched the Mer-Dan procession descend to the valley floor. Aloysius stood head and shoulders higher than the Mer-Dan representatives that walked beside him.

  The gnome warlord’s scholarly white robes looked a bit bulky on him today and he was wearing a jeweled circlet. What pompous arrogance. He was ruler of no country, yet he carried himself like a king.

  For perhaps the tenth time this week, she fantasized about attempting an assassination. Esmine’s powers would make her invisible, she could sneak into the enemy army, draw her bow and fire an invisible arrow into the gnome’s back. He wouldn’t see it coming. No one would know that it wasn’t fired from someone in his own army.

  Only Tarah knew that her papa and grampa wouldn’t approve. Her papa would have objected on moral grounds and Rolf because of the reputation she would gain. If she was still hearing their voices in her head, Rolf would have said, Tarah Woodblade does what has to be done, but she ain’t no assassin. And they would both be right in this case. Killing the gnome wasn’t a necessity at this point.

  Aloysius had killed Esmine and started a war among his own people, but he hadn’t yet done anything to prove he was attempting the same thing here. She had only found the one track of his and, though the gnome had conquering on his mind, Sir Edge had poked enough holes in the evidence that even she was doubting it. None of the enemy tracks she had found since had supported her surety that the gnome planned an attack. The Roo-
Dan warriors, though ever ready to fight if needed, were actually hopeful for the treaty to be signed.

  “Look at his robes, Djeri,” she said. “Do they look a bit bulky to you?”

  The dwarf squinted a bit as he peered across the valley towards the Mer-Dan procession. “Yeah. I think so. Like he’s wearing something under them. That’s not a good sign, but I doubt he’s planning on doing any attacking himself. That doesn’t seem to be his way. Maybe it’s just armor. He might be thinking assassination attempt.”

  Tarah’s little dream of killing him with an invisible arrow died. “I think I’ll warn Tolynn anyway.” She sent the elf a message through the wristband she wore, Watch out for the gnome. He’s wearing something under those robes.

  I shall keep that under advisement, the elf replied. But do not contact me through the wood again unless the reason is urgent.

  Yes, ma’am, Tarah replied, frowning.

  “You want me to go over there and scare him?” Esmine suggested, her child-like form appearing next to Tarah. “I could make him think he was on fire. That would be funny.”

  Tarah had to admit, that did sound amusing. Still, she had to decline. “No, Esmine. He’s too smart. He’d figure out who was behind it. It’s best that he not find out about your powers.”

  If he didn’t already know. It was an open secret that both the Roo-Tan and Roo-Dan had spies in each other’s camps. Xedrion made a point of finding out who the Roo-Dan spies were, then giving them false information. That was another disturbing thing. None of the spies had reported any sign of deception in the Mer-Dan commanders. They all seemed to be taking this treaty seriously.

  “Maybe Tolynn will do it for us,” Esmine suggested. “She is fast. He could not stop her.”

  “Perhaps. I doubt he has any defense for the things she can do,” Tarah said. She had casually suggested as much to her elf trainer just that morning. Tolynn replied that she would never attack during a veil of peace. But she hadn’t discounted the idea if there was treachery.

  “You sure are feeling bloodthirsty today,” Djeri remarked, raising an eyebrow. He could only hear one side of the conversation, but he had a way of knowing Tarah’s thoughts. It was as if he understood her just by looking at her. “Have you given thought to the possibility that they might actually come to an agreement down there?”

  “No,” she admitted. “I might not have proof, but there is no way that Aloysius doesn’t have some evil plan in mind. I just hope we get him when he tries it.”

  Djeri gave her a reproachful look. “You know what you’re hoping for, right? If something goes wrong down there, these forty thousand people are going to war. No matter how it goes, that’s a lot of death. Is that what you want?”

  “Well . . . no.” Tarah scowled, feeling guilty. “They should change your name from Djeri the Looker to Djeri the no fun . . . er.”

  “I’m just saying have some perspective,” the dwarf said, putting his arm around her. He squeezed her close. “There will be another chance to take him down no matter what happens today. There is a lot at stake here.”

  “Yeah. I know,” she said and squeezed him back. Still, she didn’t take her eyes off that gnome.

  Xedrion bin Leeths wore his full set of Jharro armor this day. It resembled pieces of plate armor in many ways. Unlike the flowing way that the elves wore the wood, his armor was segmented consisting of breastplate, shoulder pauldrons, bracers, thigh plates and greaves. He also carried a helmet, which was tucked under one arm. He wouldn’t put it on unless he was ready to do battle. He hoped to avoid that this day.

  He paused just before he reached the valley floor so that his children could move to the side and join the infantry lines. Only Herlda and Tolynn would be accompanying him to the meeting. If fighting began, his children would not be on the front lines, but they would be close. It was a sign of faith for his men.

  Xedrion continued to the valley floor, where a ramp had been built crossing the short distance across the marsh to the center platform. He stepped onto the ramp and turned to face his army. Xedrion wasn’t a man for flowery speeches. He was a man who led by example and in fifty years as protector he had never let his people down.

  Xedrion planted his Jharro staff into the mud of the marsh and raised his right fist into the air. Twenty thousand Roo-Tan men and women raised their fists in silent solidarity. Xedrion nodded. He would do his best to bring peace this day. If not, his people were willing to follow him to war.

  He wore ten Jharro rings on his fingers. One from the Jharro weapon of each of the commanders of his army. If battle was to commence, he could give the order with the speed of thought. They could also signal him if the scouts saw any sign of treachery.

  He retrieved his staff, then turned and walked up the ramp, Herlda and Tolynn right behind him. As he neared the platform, he saw that the Mer-Dan delegation was climbing the ramp on their side. First came Elder Qelvyn, the merman ambassador, followed by Witch Sorell, an old adversary of his and supposedly the main representative of the Roo-Dan.

  Xedrion neared the long center table and nodded cordially to each of them, but his main focus was on the last two figures to walk up the ramp. First came this Scholar Aloysius that he had heard so much about. The gnome was haughty and handsome and walked with a practiced grace and agility. Xedrion knew right away that this was no mere scholar. This man had the bearing of a warrior.

  Oddly for someone professing to be a scholar, the gnome wore a silver circlet on his brow. Tiny runes were inscribed in its surface. Xedrion knew enough about spirit magic runes to realize that they were protective in nature. Perhaps a defense against bewitching? The thought irked the protector. As if he would stoop to such trickery. In addition, the man’s stature seemed a bit broad for a gnome. Xedrion thought it likely that Aloysius was wearing armor under those robes.

  Walking behind the gnome was perhaps the biggest surprise. The Stranger wore fine robes that seemed a bit dirty for use in official business like this. He had the weary and haggard look of a man who had not slept in some time. The oddest part though, was the ornate sword hilt that rose from behind his shoulder. Since when did one of the prophets carry a sword?

  The representatives from the two sides stood across the table from each other as servants came up the ramps carrying chairs, along with chests containing the various treaty documents and signing instruments. Once the servants had left, Xedrion faced the merman ambassador.

  “Elder Qelvyn, Witch Sorell, I am pleased to greet you this day and hope that we will soon come to an agreement befitting both our great nations,” he said. “To my right is my wife, Herlda bin Shun, representative of the Roo-Tan houses and to my left is Tolynn Yni, representative of the ancient elves of the grove.” Xedrion waited, expecting them to begin introductions of their own, but Elder Qelvyn and Witch Sorell merely nodded politely and looked to the gnome.

  The gnome smiled graciously. “Protector, it is a great honor to meet you. I am Aloysius, gnome warrior and scholar of house Mur, and Warlord of the Third Great Alberri Empire.”

  Xedrion was not a man easily shocked, but the gnome’s boldness surprised him. He did not find it amusing. “That is a . . . mouthful of titles. When I agreed to come to this meeting, I was told that you were a mere scholar from Alberri here to arbitrate this discussion.”

  “Yes, well, some things have changed since your last communication. You see, this morning, the Mer-Dan Collective surrendered to me.” The gnome’s smile broadened. “They now exist under the auspices of the Third Great Alberri Empire, which means essentially, that you are here to negotiate with me.”

  “I see,” said Xedrion, his jaw clenched. “Then this meeting is over.” He turned to leave.

  “I beg you to reconsider,” said the warlord. “We are here to negotiate peace. If you leave now, I will be forced to see it as a declaration of war. My army will attack. Thousands of lives will be lost.”

  Xedrion swung back around, his eyes dark with anger. “You would start peace
negotiations with a threat?”

  “What negotiations? You intend to leave without hearing my terms,” the gnome countered, his voice even. “I believe you will find them reasonable. Mutually beneficial, in fact. Is it not worth waiting to hear them before you decide to wage war?”

  Xedrion stood there for a moment, undecided. Tolynn placed a hand on his arm and addressed the gnome. “Do I understand you correctly, Warlord? If we do not agree to your terms, you will attack?”

  “Not at all, honored elf,” Aloysius said with a respectful nod. “I am perfectly willing to negotiate the terms with you. I am, however, a man hard-pressed for time. I am also a man who appreciates boldness. So I will tell you this. I intend to settle this today. We have until nightfall to agree to peaceful terms or there will be war. Here in this valley today.”

  Xedrion growled. “Ignorant bully tactics! I was told you were here to conquer! I should never have agreed to this meeting.”

  The gnome chuckled. “Then we would merely be having this discussion at a later date. On a battlefield stained with blood. This is much nicer, don’t you think? Please, sit. Hear my terms. I have had them drafted up for you to peruse. You are free to challenge points and I am willing to make changes if they suit my purposes. You can declare war on the Alberri Empire at any time simply by walking off of this platform.”