Chapter Ten

Grand Marshall Rohn rode slowly into the deserted town, his magnificent warhorse like an armored battalion all on its own. A small legion of men strode into the town around. Several small squads shot quickly forward and spread throughout the town, looking for any survivors. There were some but the Grand Marshall apparently had no need of them.

The squads returned without much delay. They were efficient at their jobs. Mufaun had taught them well, too well perhaps.

“Sire, there is no sign of Lieutenant Marshall Mufaun or Captain Steed. Five of his Captains lay dead on the battlefield, many of his men lay with them. There are beasts, great stone giants, among the slain as well.”

The Grand Marshall looked at the scout kneeling before his horse. “And what of the trolls?”

“As yet, nothing. There are also a number of trolls among the dead, but it appears the battle may have gone into the forest. I have three squads searching now.”

“And the villagers?”

“Nothing. There’s not one among the dead.”

Lukus Rohn, Grand Marshall of the Imperial Army, slid from his horse with ease and grace, hitting the ground with a light thud. “Lieutenant Marshall Belfoure.” The man was at his side seconds after his name was uttered. “Take your company with this scout and end this. Bring the troll and the Seer to me.”

Belfoure signaled his company forward then turned to the Grand Marshall, “What of Mufaun?”

“If he’s still alive, kill him and every man that stands with him.”

Chapter Nine

Mufaun's short swords sliced through the pale yellow and brown skin of yet another troll, droplets of the green blood shooting through the air as ripped the blades from the troll's body to parry a strike from another attacker to his left. Steed was still at his side, his shield battered and an ugly gash across his face that nearly took his eye.

The battle was still wicked, but the bodies that fell were mostly those of the enemy. Their stone giant allies seemed more adept to the challenge of fighting these savage beasts than Mufaun could have imagined. There was a fluidness to their engagements that Mufaun guessed had been born in years of conflict between the two races high in the Tambors.

He wished he hadn't put his men right into the middle of it.

Then a battlehorn sounded from deep within the forest. The note was cut short. It hadn't been Rolen's horn. Had he engaged the enemy? If so, why? What had forced him into battle?

The horn's blast had distracted Mufaun's opponent long enough for him to stick his swords deep into the troll's belly, but before he could pull the blades free, he was clubbed from behind.

Mufaun hit the ground hard, grasping at the ribs under his left arm now burning with a piercing pain. When he turned to face his attacker, he found a great, slobbering gray-skinned troll bearing down on him."I think you've spilled enough of my kinsmen's blood this day, human."

The troll raised the killing blow, but just as it fell, Mufaun scrambled out of the way and to his feet.

"Stop squirming around, you puke!"

Mufaun dodged a second swing of the leather-bound bludgeoning device, but the club was caught mid-swing by a mountain-like stone warrior. The giant yanked the troll closer and right into the vice-like grip of his left hand.

The troll released his hold on the club and fought desperately to free himself from the giant's grasp. He failed, and died shortly after the giant crushed his throat. Steed stumbled into the midst, stepping in front of Mufaun and positioning himself to defend his commander.

The giant knelt in front of the two men. "I am Lorn, at your service.""My service?"

But before Mufaun could get any further, Steed called Mufaun's attention to a large group of retreating trolls. They were headed into the forest. So the horn blast had been a troll's call for help.

"Lorn, where are those trolls retreating to?"

The giant turned his great head, just catching a glimpse of the creatures as they disappeared into the forest. "If they keep in that direction, they will find the pathway that leads to Dungheap."

The reality hit Mufaun like the giant club of the troll that lay only feet away from him, this battle had been a diversion. The trolls were after the Seer. He glanced in the direction of the Grand Marshall's camp, then back at the fallen troll. Would Rohn have made a deal with these beasts, a deal that included the slaughter of his men?

"The trolls are after the Seer. We have to move now, or all will be lost."

Chapter Eight

Rolen crept through the thick underbrush as quietly as he could. He wasn't too worried about the dead leaves crunching under his feet or the feet of the soldiers with him because the trolls were making enough noise to cover any sound that might give away their location.

The trolls moved with purpose but stuck to the trail. Their confidence worried Rolen. They didn't try to mask their movements, never checked their rear to see if they were being followed, and only two of the five trolls had weapons in their hands.

Rolen motioned his men forward despite the gut-tightening feeling that something wasn't right.

He had to keep the trolls in sight, had to keep them close until he understand the danger he felt but could not see.

Then, as Rolen quick-stepped through the giant ferns to a fat, ancient looking Oak Tree, he watched as the two armed trolls attacked their own. Rolen moved his men to positions around the unusual scene, prepared to finish off what was left of the feuding warband.

From the center of the formation, the two armed trolls attacked. The smaller, blue-gray skinned troll turned with calculated precision and jabbed its long, curved sword deep into the rear-guard's belly, doubling him over just as knife came slashing across his throat. The death was silent and fast, impressive Rolen thought to himself, not the brutal slayings trolls were known for. But the fight had only just begun.

The sound of the rear-guard's body hitting the ground was enough to get the forward-guards' attention.

"Tanglefoot. It's bad enough..." But the troll's insult was cut short as he was forced to dodge a slashing strike aimed at his head. For as big as the troll was, his quick side-step to avoid the blow and his follow-up punch, were almost intuitive. His fist slammed against the face of his attacker, dropping the troll the ground.

Rolen's mouth fell open as he watched the troll drop. The sheer force of the blow must have shattered the animal's jaw. The predator had now become the prey. Rolen inched closer, while commanding his men to stay hidden where they were. He had to get closer, had to hear what, if anything, was being said. Why the sudden mutiny in the ranks. Trolls were fiercely loyal creatures to their own kind.

"What is this, Fallenstone? Why betray me here? Now?" The troll kicked Fallenstone hard in the stomach and the effect was startling. Fallenstone changed, morphed into the form of a human woman, a beautiful human woman.

Rolen watched as the troll pulled out the massive iron hammer he'd being wearing slung across his back. The troll growled, "Now I understand why I never liked your smell."

The other troll that had attacked with this woman must also be a Chameleon, thought Rolen. They were one of the rare, magical races still found in Eros Sur. Rolen had only ever met one, as the man lay dying on the battlefield with an arrow of Rolen's in his chest. Being able to change your appearance could be a costly mistake. Rolen glanced at the fallen woman's ally. This troll still held its guise and fought a savage battle with the remaining troll-enemy.

As the troll's hammer rose into the air, Rolen stepped from his cover and loosed a volley of arrows at the unsuspecting troll. The arrows struck home, piercing the trolls neck and heart within a second of each other, bringing the beast to its knees without a sound. Its hammer thudded to the ground.

Rolen readied a second volley of arrows and was seconds from loosing these arrows when the enemy troll fell, its head severed from its body. The troll turned to face Rolen as he moved quickly toward the trail where the fight had taken place.

The troll took an aggressive, hunched over stance near the body of the unconscious woman. He clutched a great battleaxe in his hands.

He made no sound, his eyes intent on Rolen as he approached. Then, suddenly aware of the other four scouts ready to fill him with arrows, he placed his axe on the ground and bent himself onto one knee.

Rolen looked at the beast, wondering why he had yet to change to his human form.

"Why are you here, soldier?"

"I was sent here by my commander, to follow and observe the beasts you were traveling with. Where were they headed?"

"To slaughter my people and take the Seer captive, a gift for the Grand Marshall."

"Rohn? Why would he..." Then the reality hit him. The Grand Marshall had allowed Mufaun to do the dirty work so that he, in one swift stroke, could take the prize back to the Emperor and rid himself of the only man who could oppose him.

The troll's form broke, and he was suddenly a human male, strong, lean. He went to the fallen woman's side. "She needs medicine. I cannot treat her here. I must get her back to my people."

A shrill horn blared out from behind them on the trail. The first of the trolls to fall had mustered enough life to blow a single note through his battlehorn, a note that was cut short by four arrows.

But the damage was done. Help would be on the way.

"We will escort you to safety, but we must move now." Rolen gathered his men as the male shifted back to his troll form and hoisted the unconscious woman onto his shoulder.

"Follow me." The troll led the way with Rolen and his men close at his heels, vigilant and wary.

The enemy was coming.

Chapter Seven

Sweat and blood glistened on Mufaun’s face as he stared down the stone monster crouched a mere ten feet from him. The bodies of his men lay strewn about the ground around him but not one of the stone giants had been taken down. Mufaun’s mind was racing. The leather girded hilts of the short swords he held in each hand were damp with his perspiration.

Steed and Rolen stood at Mufaun’s back, facing off with their own stone nightmares, both looked equally worn, equally distressed.

“We can’t keep this up much longer, Mufaun. They must have a weakness.”

Mufaun could feel the despair in Steed’s voice. He’d known the man for years, served with him his entire conscripted life. Despair was not something ever heard in Steed’s voice.

“My lord, this is not the day we die.”

Rolen’s voice was confident in the face of their imminent deaths, and Mufaun would have turned to face him if his eyes had not been fastened to his enemy, watching a long, curved steel blade push through the giant’s chest from behind.

The giant let out a teeth-rattling roar, bringing most of the human soldiers to their knees. The blade was yanked from the giant’s body and the great stone beast thundered to the ground, dead.

Mufaun stared at the troll standing over the lifeless body of the giant. Ruk Stonetoes had a pride unlike any dark animal Mufaun had ever known, unfortunately for the troll, Mufaun knew he could make this enemy bleed. And with the fallen giant, it seemed his enemy had now become his ally.

Mufaun flung himself at the troll that had brought the stone giant down only to be turned aside half way to his mark. Intercepted by another troll, one with far less pride than the enemy Mufaun had meant to engage, Mufaun found this beast just as fierce as he expected. The short swords he carried were turned aside by the trolls great curved blade with skill and purpose as Mufaun was forced to face off with this foe. Their steel weapons sang as they whipped through the air and met each other in wicked arcs and thrusts, Mufaun was by far the better swordsman, and within seconds of engaging the beast, it lay at his feet, massive amounts of dark green blood gurgling from the slashing wound opening his throat. Ruk Stonetoes was no longer waiting.

Mufaun quickly scanned the battlefield for his target but was unable to find him. Steed strode to his side, taking a second to catch his breath, as Mufaun took in the scene a little more deeply. For the first time, what was left of his battalion seemed to be succeeding where it had been failing miserably.

“How are we fairing?”

“Better, with the giants fighting alongside our men. But when there are no more trolls…”

The thought was cut short as an arrow raced between them, lodging in the flat face of a troll that had been intent on attacking the two soldiers as they planned their final stand.

Rolen was at the other end of the long bow that had brought the rather obese troll to a timely end. He made his way over to the two men, one his Captain, the other his Commander.

“I have news, sir.” This time he addressed his Captain.

Steed looked at the man before him, waiting. “Well, what is it?”

“A small contingent of the trolls has left the battle and disappeared into the forest. I followed for a short distance before returning to battle, but I was unable to determine the reason for their retreat.”

“It wasn’t a retreat.” Mufaun could tell by the look in the scout’s eyes that he had expected to hear nothing less. “They’re after the villagers.”

“How would they know where the villagers have gone?” Rolen tracked another troll as it raced across the battlefield and dropped the beast with an arrow that must have pierced whatever heart the animal had.

“That I cannot say, but the possibilities fill me with a dread I don’t care to see become a reality. Take four men with you and follow the beasts to their destination. Wait there for us to follow. Sound your horn if your situation turns dire. I will come to you at all costs.”

Rolen stood there for a moment, staring at his commander, then asked, “Which four men do I take with me, sir?”

“You already know which men to take with you. Go quickly. Time is against us.”

And without further, Rolen turned and raced back into the fierce battle. Mufaun turned to Captain Steed, “It wasn’t suppose to be this way.”

“I know. But this moment, right now, this is our moment. Rule it, like you have ruled every moment that brought us to this place.”

Mufaun laid his right hand on Steed’s shoulder. “I will not forget the friendship you have given me.”

“A friendship you have earned.”

“A friendship I cherish.”

“To arms.”

“To war.”

“For country.”

“For love.”

“For God.”

“For God.” Mufaun looked to where the battle had moved, a small garden courtyard a short distance from where they stood. The carnage of the battle littered the ground before them. Through an alley, Mufaun saw Rolen leading his small band of soldiers into the woods, to what end he didn’t know. He had not meant for the blood of his men to be left on the ground in this place. He swore to himself, to his God, their sacrificed lives would not be in vain.

Chapter Six

Grand Marshall Rhon sat opposite Ruk Stonetoes, leader of the Eastern Tambor Tribe of cave trolls. Ruk’s brown moss agate colored skin was like a natural camoflage. The thick, coarse black hair that fell from his face and ran down the center of his back like a mane was braided in places, the braids knotted at the ends with pieces of bone, the remains of past foes overcome. The Grand Marshall was equally fierce looking where he sat only feet away from the massive troll. Man and beast stared at each other with little respect and no trust.

“What kind of animal betrays his own kind to their deaths?” There was no love lost in Ruk’s question, but the cave troll was there, seated before a human warrior, come to make a deal with the enemy.

“What I do with my own kind is of no concern to you, troll. What should concern you is whether or not you have the necessary resources to defend your mountain highland country against an invasion of the Emperor’s Army. Now, I assume, since you’ve come to this little meeting, you’ve realized an Imperial invasion of your land would virtually wipe out your kind and your way of life in these godforsaken mountains you call a home.”

As cynical and biting as the words were coming from the arrogant human in front of him, Ruk Stonetoes couldn’t deny the truth in them. His people were a dying force in the world. There was still strength in them along with a desire to be a free roaming race, but no cave troll had lived outside the confines of the high granite Tambor peaks since before Ruk could remember. The Tambors were an unforgiving wilderness populated by the fiercest creatures in Eros-Sur, creatures that had preyed on the cave troll for centuries. Ruk was tired of being the prey. If a pact with this human could bring hope of a future to his people, he’d be a fool to forego this opportunity.

“Bring the woman and child. Leave no one else alive.” Ruk’s second, a fierce looking green and black skinned brute with a silver mane, moved quickly away from the two warriors and disappeared from view.

“What child?” Rohn looked at the troll leader with unbridled contempt.

“The woman and the child are one.”

The Grand Marshall wasn’t about to be riddled by the likes of Ruk Stonetoes. Stonetoes. Of all names, where was the honor in that one. “I don’t want the child. The woman is the only one of worth to me.”

Ruk looked at the Grand Marshall for a long moment before speaking. “You want the woman but not the child?”

“Are you hard of hearing, troll? Or is it your nature to make things more difficult than they need to be?”

Ruk swallowed hard, his pride a great lump in his throat, in another place, another time, the cold, curved steel blade strapped to his back would have come free of its harness and lopped the pretty head of this human from its shoulders. Ruk hated this human and hated that he had to perhaps trust the fate of his tribe to the whims of this man. “You are the one not listening, human. But as you wish, have the woman, I will see that the boy is dealt with appropriately with the rest of the lives you’ve sacrificed this day. But make no mistake, do not make me regret this meeting.”

Chapter Five

Mufaun had given Steed the very best men under his control. He’d even ordered the transfer of men from other legions at Steed’s request. Steed’s unit answered only to him. They were fast, proficient, and well-trained. Steed prided himself on the discipline of his elite scout unit. But after an hour of waiting, and still no reports from any of the ten scouts, the soldiers began to get restless.

Steed stole a look at his commander to find him looking back at him. Mufaun saw the uncertainty in his captain’s eyes, felt the pending doom that was creeping into his heart. Something was wrong. Something had gone terribly wrong. The silence seemed to grow heavier, as if it would strike down the first to break it. Swords began to slide from sheaths. The archers held arrows notched and ready to fly at the first enemy to show its ugly face. And as the tension mounted, Mufaun began to doubt he had influenced the disappearance of the villagers at all.

That had been his plan, arrive in a deserted town with just enough evidence to suggest the villagers had the foresight to leave town during the night. Wouldn’t be a hard story to sell given the reason they had come to this otherwise forgotten part of the realm. But if this woman was a seer, as powerful as the one described to him by Emperor Hotek, then perhaps he had underestimated her. He had pledged an oath to protect her and those with her so long as she was in danger. There had been an uneasy agreement reached in which the villagers would seek refuge in a mountain stronghold they affectionately referred to as the Dungheap. Once he had proven his word and the soldiers had left the land, they would consider the arrangement Mufaun had proposed.

Still, the unsettling feeling permeating this village was growing steadily, and Mufaun had seen enough battles to know they were in a bad position, a position he had put them in out of over-confidence, not a mistake he made often. Nor would he ever make again. Mufaun turned in his saddle about to shout an order for his captains to retreat, when his heart sank into his stomach. Something had been launched at the army from behind one of the nearby buildings. Mufaun knew what it was even before it crashed against the shields of the men to his left.

It was Rone, one of Steed’s scouts. The body rolled off the shields of the soldiers it struck, falling lifeless to the ground. What foe had the ability to kill a man, a powerful man, and leave no evidence of the instrument use to take his life? Whatever or whoever it was promised to hurt them dearly. Mufaun looked at the corpse as his men backed slowly away. Fate had crashed down on him like a blacksmith’s hammer. He had taken his men to their deaths. Pride had made him sloppy and Fate would be unforgiving it seemed. The other scouts must have come to a similar if not more gruesome end. He hoped angels had carried them on their way.

“Sir.”

Mufaun, Lieutenant Marshall of the Imperial Army, sat silent on his warhorse. He heard Steed addressing him but he was at a serious loss for words, far from being ready to give any order that might bring more suffering upon them than he already had doomed each of them to.

What had he done?

Mufaun’s eyes rose to the towering granite peaks that enclosed the valley. The Tambor Mountains were home to some of the most feared creatures in Eros-Sur. There were few men or women who braved their wilderness. The most feared of these beasts was the stone giant. It was rumored that they possessed an intelligence equal to most men, and rivaled even some of the wisest. They lived high in the granite peaks of the mountain range where they burrowed into the ancient mountains with their bare hands. This ancient, wise and dangerous creature was surely what lurked in the unseen alleys of the village, planning its slaughter of Mufaun’s battalion.

“Sir. Prepare us for battle.”

The simple request awoke the warrior leader inside Mufaun once again. He slid easily from his warhorse and looked at his men. Within seconds Mufaun was surrounded by his captains, issuing orders as fast as they came into his mind. Yet, even as his men carried out his plan, the enemy showed its ugly face.

Now, seeing one of these fell beasts in the road before his very eyes, Mufaun had to give some credence to the rumors. The animal was massive, like a piece of the mountain itself ripped out and tossed in their path.

Its skin was the color of smoky quartz, with black splotches spread over the entire 10-foot, 800-pound frame of the animal. The arms were abnormally long, with hands balled into fists like great stone hammers. When it moved, the knuckles of each fist would leave deep gouges in the hardened earth. Its large, round face was a hairless boulder set on massive shoulders with black coal-like eyes. There was nothing dumb, or clumsy looking about this animal. It was king of the mountain, come down to feed on human flesh. Suddenly, the unnerving disappearance of the villagers wasn’t so difficult to understand. Or so Mufaun thought.

But why the stone giants? Like something from one of the childhood stories he had listened to by the light of his father's fire, these ancient creatures seldom ventured into the inhabited regions of men. Stone giants hadn’t been seen in the lowlands for over a hundred years, not since the time of the elf and ogre wars. Why now? Why this village?

And even as the Mufaun squared off with his formidable foe, filling his hands with the leather bound hilts of his two shortswords, the unthinkable happened. Fifteen more equally impressive giants surrounded the army, heaving the bodies of five more scouts at them.

There would be no escape for Mufaun or his men.