Despite the fact that his actions had saved many men, the fire caused its own problem as it spread across the grass, fed by the slime the Troll Mother’s grasping tongues left behind. The mouths of the mother that weren’t directly touched by the sword, didn’t seem to mind the flames. They continued to send out grasping tongues, simply setting the men on fire as they dragged in and swallowed.
We may have to try it anyway, Justan said. But maybe not. Come join me.
He saw Tarah Woodblade and her friends gathered together a safe distance from the valley’s edge and galloped their way. “Tarah!” He slid out of the saddle and landed in front of her. “Jhonate is down there, as is Xedrion and Tolynn. Is there anything Esmine can do to help?”
Tarah shrugged helplessly. “She can make illusions.”
“She can sense things. Can she see where the mouths are about to appear before they hit?” he asked.
“She says that she can’t see into the earth. It’s too dense.” She frowned. “Maybe she could distract some of the mouths, but I don’t know that they can see.”
“Theodore thinks that the Troll Mother is using vibrations and pressure to know where to strike,” Willum said.
Djeri nodded, gazing down the valley with his hawk-like eyes. “I think he’s right. There’s no other pattern to the attacks. It just happens when people are moving. Look at Cletus.”
For the first time, Justan noticed that the gnome warrior wasn’t standing with the rest of them. He was racing along the slope, leaping over open mouths, his chain whipping around him, the long blade attached to the end lopping off tentacles. The Troll Mother seemed just a step behind, lashing out with tentacles or opening mouths after he passed.
“The fool!” Deathclaw hissed. “He will get himself eaten.”
“He’s helping people,” Djeri said, nodding as the gnome cleaved a tongue that had was wrapped around a soldier’s leg. “He wouldn’t listen if we said to hang back.”
Justan thought furiously. “Can Esmine make vibrations or hide vibrations?”
“Maybe . . ,” Tarah said, thinking it over.
“I dunno,” said Esmine, suddenly appearing to speak for herself. The elf child was rubbing her little chin with one hand. “I’m not too good at making people feel things. I can make good noises, though. Watch.”
Fifty yards down the slope in a spot empty of mouths, three identical versions of Esmine’s child appeared. At once, they started screaming and stomping their feet. The Troll Mother’s response was immediate. A mouth opened up underneath them and the three children yelped as they fell inside.
“It works,” Esmine said.
“Good! Do what you can,” Tarah said.
All across the slopes, small elf children suddenly appeared wherever men were struggling. They shouted and stomped their feet to distract the mother, and sometimes it worked. Still, it wasn’t enough. Xedrion and Tolynn could not break free.
A plan formed in Justan’s mind. “Bear with me a moment. I need to talk to Artemus.”
The wizard had been speaking so calmly to him before this had started. But since the meeting with Talon, Artemus hadn’t responded to his requests. He closed his eyes, focusing through the bond. The blockage that led to the wizard’s sanctum was no longer as solidly blocked as it had been in the past. The opening, once as small as a peep hole was large enough that Justan could reach through it if needed.
For now he just pressed his thoughts close to it and yelled, Artemus, I need you!
A chill breeze blew through the opening. Now . . . is not a good time, said his voice weakly. Then the harsher voice of the Scralag interrupted. FREEZE THEM. CRUNCH THE BONES! There is something vast and powerful nearby. The elemental is FREEZE . . . is surging to the surface.”
I need your help! Justan sent a surge of thoughts and memories through the bond, showing Artemus what had transpired. Jhonate is down there. She is surrounded and I have to save her. You need to wrest control and help me now!
Artemus’ face appeared at the opening. I can lend you power, but it will be limited. If I pull too hard, the elemental will break free.
What I need you to do is freeze the ground, Justan explained. I need a safe path down to the center of the valley.
It is too far. I can . . . he grimaced. Freeze the ground in a radius around you. Perhaps fifty yards. No more.
Can you keep it up while I travel down there? Justan begged.
I shall do all I can, he wheezed. Now go.
“Alright,” Justan said, opening his eyes. “I’m heading down there. He’ll freeze the ground around me as I go, preventing her attacks. I’ll need Esmine to create distractions elsewhere, draw the Troll Mother’s attention.”
“Let us go, then,” Deathclaw said.
“I’ll come, too,” said Tarah. “Tolynn is tiring down there.”
“See if Esmine can be any help until we can reach them,” Justan suggested.
Esmine popped into view. “Doing it!” she said, then disappeared.
“We have another problem,” Djeri said pointing to the valley floor. “The fog’s climbing.”
The mist roiled and moved slowly up the valley banks, obscuring battling groups of soldiers from view.
Justan grimaced. “I wish Vannya was here to help.”
The mage had stayed behind to continue her studies. Hilt and Beth had stayed as well, but for different reasons. Xedrion didn’t want him going to war until he had recovered more use of his maimed hand.
“Uh . . . Theodore has a suggestion,” Willum said reluctantly. “I normally wouldn’t bring it up, but . . .”
“What?” Justan said. “Come on, we need to move!”
“Gwyrtha’s blood,” Willum said. “It wouldn’t take much to give him the charge needed. Once we got down there, he could cancel out the spell and blow the mist out.”
Do it, Gwyrtha said. She turned her head and bit a deep gash into her shoulder. I have lots.
“Hurry up,” Justan said.
Willum held the axe against the wound and as her blood flowed over the blade, the runes glowed greedily. The imp’s response was audible to all those standing nearby. “Ohhhhhh yeeeeaaaah.”
“Enough,” Justan said, giving him only a few seconds before healing the wound. He reached out to Artemus. Now.
At that command, Justan felt a flash of pain in his chest. A shudder passed through him. Frost gathered on the front of his shirt.
A series of cracking sounds issued from the ground beneath his feet and a layer of frost formed on the grass around him. It radiated from him in a wide circle. He felt a wave of weakness, but pulled more energy from Gwyrtha. The axe had drained her reserves by about half, but she was ready to go.
Justan leapt into her saddle and started off, everyone else following close behind him. Jhonate, I’m coming. We’re clearing a path to get you out of there.
Hurry, she said and her tiredness was obvious through the ring. We can barely see down here and we cannot get through to father.
Justan’s immediate urge was speed to the bottom at a full gallop, but that wasn’t possible. The frost wouldn’t radiate out fast enough to keep up. He was forced to go at a medium trot, his friends jogging to keep up, their feet crunching in the brittle frozen grass.
The experience was surreal. Everywhere else, men were fighting and screaming, but the land around Justan and his friends was frozen in a grotesque tableau. They jogged over and around frozen mouths and immobilized tongues.
The Troll Mother raged at the effectiveness of it. All along the perimeter of the frost, mouths opened and reached. Tongues elongated, but Justan’s friends made short work of any that came too close.
Cletus saw their descent and ran over to them. He slid across the frozen grass to Tarah’s side. “Hey! Where you goin’, Pretty Tarah?” he said breathlessly, a wide smile on his face despite the horrors surrounding them.
“We’re attempting a rescue,” Tarah replied. “The protector is stuck down there at the bottom.”
Cletus blinked and peered down at the bottom. “Oh! I see!” he said. He took a running leap and swung off of a frozen tongue that arced high overhead, then raced down the slope, dodging mouths as he went.
“How is he not dead already?” Deathclaw wondered. He swung his sword in a wide arc and the white hot blade set several grasping tongues aflame.
Djeri shook his head, the long blade of the Ramsetter ready in his hands. “You can’t explain Cletus.”
Xedrion fought on.
The tongues of the Troll Mother were relentless. The severed ends of tentacles had become their own obstacles, writhing and flopping and making the platform slippery. Herlda had fallen a few times. She was always quick back to her feet, but he worried that she was slowing down. They all were, in fact. Each of them had minor cuts and scrapes from the spikes on the tongues and none of them were in the prime of youth anymore.
Xedrion began to feel the creeping suspicion that this was the moment he had dreaded for over a decade. This would be the day his age caught up. This would be the day that his skill failed him.
He wondered what would happen if he was sucked into one of those mouths. Would it be a quick death, then a sudden rebirth as one of those things? Or would it be a painful prolonged experience as his body was taken apart and broken down and recombined. Would he be awake as his memories were stripped away? Would he realize what was happening to him?
Nevertheless, he continued to fight. It wasn’t a question he was eager to find the answer to. He was so focused on the tentacles around him that he almost didn’t hear Jhonate’s cry through the ring.
Jhexin!
Xedrion knew then that he had lost a son. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He had already lost his first born. He wasn’t ready for another. And his foolish children were still close by, trying to get to him.
Jhonate, go! All of you! He demanded. He was so distracted that he didn’t see it when it happened.
“Xedrion!” cried Tolynn.
He turned just in time to see Herlda’s wide and pleading eyes as she was pulled into the mist. “No!” He ran for her, slicing as he went, but she was gone.
Jhonate cried out again. Fleen’s gone!
A numbness swept over him. He had failed them. Xedrion swung his staff a few more times, keeping the tentacles at bay, but the strength had left his limbs. He let his staff droop.
“What are you doing?” Tolynn snapped, jumping in front of him and lopping off the tip of a tentacle that had come inches from his head. She delivered a stinging backhand across his face. “Mourn later! Let anger fuel you.”
He snarled and slashed out at another tentacle. Easy for her to say. She had lost so many in battle over the centuries.
“Duck your heads!” shouted an unfamiliar voice and the tentacles blocking the ramp across the marshes briefly parted as a narrow body passed through.
Xedrion and Tolynn crouched down low as the odd gnome friend of Tarah Woodblade’s landed in the midst of them. He crouched beside Xedrion and spun his chain weapon in a wide arc over his head. Cletus built his weapon’s momentum, picking up a blistering speed and slicing apart any tentacle that came within the weapon’s range.
“Hey, can I save you guys?” he asked, blinking at them innocently.
Xedrion simply stared back at him in shock. Where had the gnome come from?
Tolynn recovered faster. “We will accept any help you can give us.”
“Okay, Pretty Elf. I like your bald head,” he said, smiling at her. Cletus stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and watched the movements of the mouths at the edge of the platform. “When I say go, run fast like a bunny rabbit and jump. There’s boards on the other side.”
They nodded and he grinned, his eyes darting back and forth as he timed his move. “Go!”
With one last great loop of his chain, he darted forward and slashed at a downward angle, cutting off the blocking tentacles at the base. Tolynn jumped first, Xedrion right behind her, and ran up the partially broken ramp that led to the base of the slope.
Jhonate was there just ahead, only partly obscured by the mist. As were her brothers Qurl and Sen. They were fighting alongside what was left of Xedrion’s personal guard. Their sisters had followed orders and left with the rest of the army. They were surrounded by open grasping mouths, but worked in concert, keeping the Troll Mother’s tongues at bay.
Xedrion glanced back to see if Cletus had followed them, but the gnome was still on the platform, the tentacles closing in. The wood groaned and with a sudden lurch, the platform rose into the air. Something huge had bulged up beneath it. The platform crashed to the side and the gnome disappeared from view, thrown into the mist.
A great mound rose from the center of the marsh where the platform had been. A series of eyes formed in the side of it.
Xedrion did not want to stay and find out what it would become. He ran to his children’s aid, Tolynn at his side. They arrived just as the sound of a great bell echoed along the valley slope.
A mighty gust of wind struck Xedrion, nearly knocking him over. The mist was blown away. Xedrion saw the horror of the valley slope before him. Where there had once been twenty thousand proud Roo-Tan warriors now sat a minefield of countless mouths and grasping tongues.
The slope was mostly cleared of men, but coming straight toward him was Sir Edge astride his rogue horse surrounded by his bonded and comrades. The ground around him froze as he rode, presenting a clear path to escape.
“You had to bring back the bell, did you?” Djeri asked Willum. The imp had used it all through the war any time Willum had used its power. It was only towards the end that he had got the imp to stop.
“Theodore is in a good mood,” Willum grumbled and said in a mocking impersonation of the imp. “‘Ho-Ho, Willy! Let’s do it again. More rogue horse blood!’”
“He calls you Willy?” Djeri asked.
The imp’s massive spell hit the thick fog like a wave, blasting it up into the air and dispersing it. There was no sign of Mellinda or the trollkin army. Only the Troll Mother remained and she was angry.
Where the center platform had once stood was now an enormous mound of troll flesh. Eyes had sprouted all over it and great long tentacles were growing from the sides, stretching outwards like long curving arms. Djeri shook his head. He did not want to get any closer to that.
But that’s where they were headed. Xedrion and Jhonate were not far from it, battling a ring of grasping mouths. Sir Edge pressed forward. As they approached, the mouths surrounding Jhonate and her siblings froze solid. The line of frost reached the edge of the marsh and stopped.
“We’ve got to go now!” Edge shouted. “Artemus is spent!”
The named warrior jumped down from Gwyrtha’s saddle and ran to Jhonate, who seemed ready to collapse with exhaustion. He clutched her to him briefly, then turned to her father.
“Protector,” Edge said. “Get on Gwyrtha and take Jhonate with you. Ride to the top. We’ll be right behind you.”
“Wonderful,” said Tarah from beside him. “They ride. We get the death march.”
“They’ve been fighting long and hard,” he reminded her. “We’re the rescue squad.”
“I know,” she said with a frown. “Doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it.”
Xedrion didn’t hesitate. He jumped into the rogue horse’s saddle and reached down for his daughter. Jhonate protested, but her father and Edge pushed her up in front of him.
“I’ll take Tolynn as well,” Xedrion said. The elf leapt nimbly up behind him and Gwyrtha galloped away, up the swiftly defrosting path.
It wouldn’t be so easy for the rest of them. A horrible screech echoed along the valley as a vertical mouth split the side of the mound. The enormous tentacles began curling inwards, closing off their escape.
The party ran, keeping to the center of the frozen path as best as they could. Mouths and tongues reached from either side and the great arms reached ever closer. They were ten feet high and co
vered in tiny spikes.
It looked like they would all make it past the tentacles’ reach, but Djeri’s shorter legs made it hard for the dwarf to keep up. He pulled off his helmet and held it in his free hand so that he could breathe easier.
Tarah kept pace with him shouting, “Move it, Djeri! This is why wearing full plate armor’s stupid! What happens when you have to run?”
“I’m just as fast in the armor as out!” he snapped back. Which was true for the most part. But those arms were closing fast and being a few pounds lighter sure wouldn’t have hurt. All the layers of steel in the world wouldn’t protect him against getting swallowed.
The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) Page 46