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.