Steam rose from the pool’s heated water. The sun had only begun to rise over the Felucian Mountains to the east. The mountains were still draped in their winter snows. The mornings still cool, but filled with the smell of the coming spring. Lady Rianna moved gracefully through the water, her body hidden in its depth, to the marbled edge that over-looked the entire city of Durhamfeld. It had been two days since the courier had arrived with news of Mufaun’s victory. Mufaun had found the Seer and would be returning today before the sun set. Grand Marshall Rohn would be with him. Her father had all but declared the day a day of feast and rest.
The princess closed her eyes, took a deep, engaging breath of the lavender scented water, and then slipped completely into its depths. When she broke the water’s surface a few seconds later, she was no longer alone.
Grand Marshall Rohn stood at the pool’s edge, watching the princess swim. “Good morning, my lady.”
“This is a private chamber, Grand Marshall, you are not welcome here.”
“But if I were Mufaun…”
“No man is welcome in the bedchamber of the princess, Grand Marshall, or have you been gone so long that you’ve forgotten the very laws you bare arms to protect and uphold?”
“Don’t trifle with me, girl.” He caught himself in the biting tone, cooled his stung pride, and softened the gaze he cast at the princess. “Forgive me, princess, I forget my place. The journey has been long and fraught with unexpected dangers that have cost my army dearly.”
The Grand Marshall turned to leave.
“Wait.” He stopped but did not turn to look at the princess. “How is it that you have managed to return before you were expected?”
The man turned, kneeling at the pool’s side and dipping his right hand into the water. After pulling it out, filled with water, he cupped the handful of the scented wetness and lifted it to his nose where he breathed in the refreshing aroma. Then he let the water fall from his hand.
“I have come for you, baring news I felt you should hear only from me.”
She struggled desperately to hide her look of concern.
Her heart raced in her chest. Her long, golden hair hung wet and straight down her head and across her shoulders. Her blue eyes watched the Grand Marshall as he drew himself to his full height. He looked at her and she could feel her lips begin to tremble.
“The night after the courier left Mufaun’s camp, they were attacked by a savage warrior tribe of cave trolls from the Eastern Tambors.”
Rianna turned and swam to the ledge, looking out once again at the city as it awoke to the new day, the sun’s first rays of light spreading across the tiled rooftops of the city’s cottages near the outer wall.
Rohn moved around the edge of the pool, his eyes on her. “The battle must have been a fierce one. It surely must have lasted most of the night, but when I arrived in the morning with my army, the damage was done, and could not be undone.”
Tears streaked Rianna’s face, she fought to control the tremble spreading through her body at what she knew would come next.
“Mufaun is dead, my lady. Slain in battle, protecting the very thing your father sent him to find and bring to him.” He paused, watched her tremble in the water, staring at the city of her birthright.
“So it is you, then, that shall present the Seer to my Father?”
“Yes, my lady, in humble memory of my fallen Lieutenant Marshall, I will bring this woman to your Father’s court.” Rohn stared at the princess, the lies spilling from his lips like the tears from her eyes.
“Will that humble memory keep you from taking me to your bed, Grand Marshall? Will you honor me, will you honor my heart in the same way you honor the man who served you so faithfully?” Tears still running freely from her eyes, she stared at the Grand Marshall.
“I beg your forgiveness for the plague this news is on your heart, my lady, but your fate is not mine to decide.”
The Grand Marshall turned to leave but was stopped again by the princess. “Where is his body, Grand Marshall? Where has Roz Mufaun been laid to rest? Where is his body being prepared for the burial he has earned?”
“Far from here, my lady, on a hill overlooking the giant oak forest at the foot of the Tambor Mountains where he and his captains died defending your Father’s dream. That is where you will find the body of Roz Mufaun. I’ve already dispatched a host of masons and carpenters to erect a tomb and monument fit to house the greatest of my men. I will take you there myself when it is completed.”
Grand Marshall Rohn left the bedchamber of the princess without further comment, leaving her in the steaming bath without a word of comfort, without hope of love, leaving her shattered and fallen.
The end…for now, but to be continued in Taken.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Chapter Fourteen
Ruk Stonetoes entered the Grand Marshall’s tent, dragging the Seer behind him in a great burlap sack. Grand Marshall Rohn stood, staring at the massive troll as Stonetoes threw the sack at his feet. Boneshard stood with his leader, battle worn and tense.
The bag twisted and writhed but made no sound.
“There is the seer you so desperately sought. I have kept my end of our bargain, at great cost to my people.”
“So you have…” Rohn knelt at the side of the sack, watching it writhe and twist, then he stood and moved toward Stonetoes and Boneshard. “Unfortunately…”
Darts hit the two trolls without warning. The poison worked quick, bringing both creatures to their knees and sending them toward a dark slumber.
Stonetoes’ last sight was Rohn’s face, “…I cannot keep the promise I made you. When I sit on the throne of Eros-Sur, I will have my land wiped clean of your filth, troll. That is my promise to you. That is your reward for this service.”
The darkness was heavy, suffocating, but Stonetoes fought to keep hold of his mind. His hands were bound with cold, hard steel, but he could not will his arms to strike at his captors.
His legs were jailed in the same cold shackles.
Fate had played him cruel.
How could he have fallen to this man?
The bag twisted and writhed but made no sound.
“There is the seer you so desperately sought. I have kept my end of our bargain, at great cost to my people.”
“So you have…” Rohn knelt at the side of the sack, watching it writhe and twist, then he stood and moved toward Stonetoes and Boneshard. “Unfortunately…”
Darts hit the two trolls without warning. The poison worked quick, bringing both creatures to their knees and sending them toward a dark slumber.
Stonetoes’ last sight was Rohn’s face, “…I cannot keep the promise I made you. When I sit on the throne of Eros-Sur, I will have my land wiped clean of your filth, troll. That is my promise to you. That is your reward for this service.”
The darkness was heavy, suffocating, but Stonetoes fought to keep hold of his mind. His hands were bound with cold, hard steel, but he could not will his arms to strike at his captors.
His legs were jailed in the same cold shackles.
Fate had played him cruel.
How could he have fallen to this man?
Chapter Thirteen
The search of the cavernous stronghold went quickly, Mufaun leading the small squad through the tunnels and rooms as if following a map only he could see. Rolen moved quietly at his side, his bow strung with an arrow ready to fly at whatever enemy presented itself. The rear guard lingered only a few feet behind, making sure the unsearched areas left behind in the flickering light of the torches lining the stone walls didn’t have a chance to sling surprises at them as they moved deeper into the stronghold.
There were signs of battle everywhere, destroyed equipment and wares, blood smeared on floor, ceiling, and walls. But there were no bodies. Stains on the floor showed where bodies should have been found, but the bodies were gone.
“Where are the bodies?” Rolen’s question was the first sound they’d made since entering the stronghold. The emptiness had him unsettled, uncharacteristic of his disciplined mind.
“Taken, I would guess, by the trolls who survived the battle here. Back to their firepits and their young.”
There was nothing comforting in Mufaun’s response. Nevertheless, Rolen had his answer and they moved on in silence through two more tunnels and into what looked like a supply room where Mufaun stopped. The room was empty but the hard banging coming from somewhere not far away shook the very walls. A throaty, hard voice filled the silence between the bangs.
“Put your backs into it you yellow-skinned slug eaters. There’s fresh meat behind that door.”
And then a second voice, “And the boy. Ruk wants the boy alive.”
There was a growl followed by a snarl and the clash of metal. The fight was short, followed by the first troll’s voice, “Are there any other fools here who want to express their support of our misguided leader?”
After a short silence, the pounding began again. Mufaun stared at each of the three doors exiting the storeroom, and without saying anything, moved for the center door. His hands gripped the hilts of his short swords, pulling them effortlessly from their sheaths, and with a swift, powerful kick, smashed the door open.
The trolls on the other side were taken by surprise, the first two falling immediately to the floor with arrows from Rolen’s bow. Then the door the trolls had been working on burst under the beating, flying from its hinges, splintered wood and steel falling to the floor. Four of the trolls came at Mufaun and his squad while the remainder flooded the room beyond the destroyed door.
Mufaun’s blades cut through the first of the beasts, leaving him a lifeless mess on the floor. Rolen and the others continued the fight, while Mufaun followed the rest of the trolls through the doorway.
The fight was fierce, violent and Mufaun was in the thick of it as soon as he entered the room. Blades clashed while stone hammers smashed great holes in the floor and made the walls tremble. Trolls fell quickly. Blood spilled across the floor. Mufaun hacked and sliced his way through the hoard of smelly-fleshed animals, dancing through the path of destruction left by the trolls as they used whatever they could to overcome their foe. The trolls were no match for these warriors, their swords quick, the strokes deadly each time.
Then a fierce yell brought the battle to a halt, “I, Gurp Longfall, have the prize!” The troll had the boy by his neck, raising him into the air. At his feet, lifeless, was one of the boy’s guards.
Thunk. Thunk.
Two arrows sunk deep into the troll’s face. Gurp Longfall’s body slumped to the floor, his hold on the boy defeated.
Mufaun turned to the see Rolen and the rest of the squad entering the room. Arrows flew freely from the bows of the two scouts while the man-at-arms with them hacked at whatever enemy came within range of the wicked sharp battle-axe he wielded. The trolls left standing and still fighting were forced into a corner.
Only three remained, injured, but very much alive.
Mufaun stood at the front of the battle, sweat and blood dripping from his chin. He sheathed his swords, knowing somewhere nearby Rolen had him covered. “Your lives do not have to end like this.”
“How would you have us die, human?”
The trolls were crouched, the muscles in their legs taught, ready to fling their massive bodies at their captors. Their huge, clawed hands still gripped weapons smeared with blood.
“I would have you live, free to return to your own lands, your families, or stay and fight with us against the tyrant who brought you to this place, who has put you in that corner. Fight us and you will surely die, and if death is what you seek, so be it. We will give it to you.”
“Your words are bold, human, but how can you promise me and my comrades any such freedom?”
“Sal! He cannot make this promise. It’s a lie, a vicious maltruth to catch us unguarded.”
The troll, Sal Unbroken, glanced quickly at the troll standing next to him, then turned his gaze back to Mufaun.
“I stand before you unarmed.”
“But not unguarded.”
“I’m no fool. I offer you a chance to live free or fight with us, and ask for nothing more but peace in return.” Man and beast stared hard at each other. Mufaun watched Unbroken closely, saw the muscles in his legs relax, witnessed the bulging muscles in his arms flatten.
“You would let us leave this place, free and unchecked?”
“This battle is no longer yours, leave this place in peace and you shall be given it without condition. And should our paths cross again, think back on this moment when your lives were spared.” Mufaun held out his hand to Unbroken and the troll took it.
“If our paths cross again, I will remember your words. Pray your kind does the same.” Mufaun sent two of his squad with the trolls to assure their safe passage, then he and Rolen turned to the warriors once again surrounding the boy.
They looked no less fierce with the trolls now gone.
Then the boy came forward, through the protective care of his guard, and walked up to Mufaun, taking Mufaun’s hands in his own.
“Welcome to the Beginning, Roz Mufaun, Fallen Son of Eros-Sur. It is time to take back what is rightfully yours.”
There were signs of battle everywhere, destroyed equipment and wares, blood smeared on floor, ceiling, and walls. But there were no bodies. Stains on the floor showed where bodies should have been found, but the bodies were gone.
“Where are the bodies?” Rolen’s question was the first sound they’d made since entering the stronghold. The emptiness had him unsettled, uncharacteristic of his disciplined mind.
“Taken, I would guess, by the trolls who survived the battle here. Back to their firepits and their young.”
There was nothing comforting in Mufaun’s response. Nevertheless, Rolen had his answer and they moved on in silence through two more tunnels and into what looked like a supply room where Mufaun stopped. The room was empty but the hard banging coming from somewhere not far away shook the very walls. A throaty, hard voice filled the silence between the bangs.
“Put your backs into it you yellow-skinned slug eaters. There’s fresh meat behind that door.”
And then a second voice, “And the boy. Ruk wants the boy alive.”
There was a growl followed by a snarl and the clash of metal. The fight was short, followed by the first troll’s voice, “Are there any other fools here who want to express their support of our misguided leader?”
After a short silence, the pounding began again. Mufaun stared at each of the three doors exiting the storeroom, and without saying anything, moved for the center door. His hands gripped the hilts of his short swords, pulling them effortlessly from their sheaths, and with a swift, powerful kick, smashed the door open.
The trolls on the other side were taken by surprise, the first two falling immediately to the floor with arrows from Rolen’s bow. Then the door the trolls had been working on burst under the beating, flying from its hinges, splintered wood and steel falling to the floor. Four of the trolls came at Mufaun and his squad while the remainder flooded the room beyond the destroyed door.
Mufaun’s blades cut through the first of the beasts, leaving him a lifeless mess on the floor. Rolen and the others continued the fight, while Mufaun followed the rest of the trolls through the doorway.
The fight was fierce, violent and Mufaun was in the thick of it as soon as he entered the room. Blades clashed while stone hammers smashed great holes in the floor and made the walls tremble. Trolls fell quickly. Blood spilled across the floor. Mufaun hacked and sliced his way through the hoard of smelly-fleshed animals, dancing through the path of destruction left by the trolls as they used whatever they could to overcome their foe. The trolls were no match for these warriors, their swords quick, the strokes deadly each time.
Then a fierce yell brought the battle to a halt, “I, Gurp Longfall, have the prize!” The troll had the boy by his neck, raising him into the air. At his feet, lifeless, was one of the boy’s guards.
Thunk. Thunk.
Two arrows sunk deep into the troll’s face. Gurp Longfall’s body slumped to the floor, his hold on the boy defeated.
Mufaun turned to the see Rolen and the rest of the squad entering the room. Arrows flew freely from the bows of the two scouts while the man-at-arms with them hacked at whatever enemy came within range of the wicked sharp battle-axe he wielded. The trolls left standing and still fighting were forced into a corner.
Only three remained, injured, but very much alive.
Mufaun stood at the front of the battle, sweat and blood dripping from his chin. He sheathed his swords, knowing somewhere nearby Rolen had him covered. “Your lives do not have to end like this.”
“How would you have us die, human?”
The trolls were crouched, the muscles in their legs taught, ready to fling their massive bodies at their captors. Their huge, clawed hands still gripped weapons smeared with blood.
“I would have you live, free to return to your own lands, your families, or stay and fight with us against the tyrant who brought you to this place, who has put you in that corner. Fight us and you will surely die, and if death is what you seek, so be it. We will give it to you.”
“Your words are bold, human, but how can you promise me and my comrades any such freedom?”
“Sal! He cannot make this promise. It’s a lie, a vicious maltruth to catch us unguarded.”
The troll, Sal Unbroken, glanced quickly at the troll standing next to him, then turned his gaze back to Mufaun.
“I stand before you unarmed.”
“But not unguarded.”
“I’m no fool. I offer you a chance to live free or fight with us, and ask for nothing more but peace in return.” Man and beast stared hard at each other. Mufaun watched Unbroken closely, saw the muscles in his legs relax, witnessed the bulging muscles in his arms flatten.
“You would let us leave this place, free and unchecked?”
“This battle is no longer yours, leave this place in peace and you shall be given it without condition. And should our paths cross again, think back on this moment when your lives were spared.” Mufaun held out his hand to Unbroken and the troll took it.
“If our paths cross again, I will remember your words. Pray your kind does the same.” Mufaun sent two of his squad with the trolls to assure their safe passage, then he and Rolen turned to the warriors once again surrounding the boy.
They looked no less fierce with the trolls now gone.
Then the boy came forward, through the protective care of his guard, and walked up to Mufaun, taking Mufaun’s hands in his own.
“Welcome to the Beginning, Roz Mufaun, Fallen Son of Eros-Sur. It is time to take back what is rightfully yours.”
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Chapter Twelve
Mufaun stared at the scene of destruction before him. The Dungheap was in ruins, the stronghold dug into the mountain was no more than a shadow of what it once might have been. It was all too apparent the attacking troll army had had only one goal in mind, find the Seer and destroy everything else.
“Sergeant Rolen, you and two others are with me. Captain Steed, man the perimeter and track the monsters responsible for this. I want to know where they’re headed, how fast they’re moving, and how many prisoners they may have taken, and I want to be ready to move before I get back.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” Both men responded at the same time and moved without further question. The time for questions was at an end.
Rolen was quick to return with two soldiers: one a scout, the other a man-at-arms. Steed had the battalion moving quickly to positions throughout the forest area surrounding the stronghold while he prepped what was left of his elite squad of scouts.
With Rolen at his side, Mufaun went to where the Battalion medic was treating the injured Chameleon. He knelt at her side. Her face was pale, sickly, bloodless. He glanced at the medic.
“Her injuries are internal and fairly minor as far as I can tell. Her jaw was dislocated, but I was able to reset it. The pain that must have caused I couldn’t imagine but she didn’t even stir. I’ve tried everything I know to wake her, sir.”
Mufaun looked the woman over another time. “Keep at it, Malone. Do what you can.”
“Of course, Lieutenant.”
As Mufaun turned to walked away, the Chameleon’s hand shot out and latched onto his ankle. He grabbed the thin wrist of the woman, but as he did so, his mind was suddenly assaulted with a barrage of images, caves, tunnels, rooms, stairways, and then seven faces. Three of the faces were men, the other three of women. At the center of the small group of warriors was a boy of no more than eight years. All around this boy, there was fear, the warriors surrounding him splattered with the blood of the enemy as well as their friends and comrades. But this boy, his eyes, vibrant, blue like Anduvian violets of the Southern prairie country. There was hope in these eyes.
“Find the boy. He is your only hope.”
The Chameleon’s words broke Mufaun from his trance and left him stunned, staring at the woman as she died before him. He still held the woman’s wrist in his hand, and a tingling there brought his eyes to gaze on blue tattoo that spread across his skin on the back of his hand and wrist. Mufaun recognized the intricately woven pattern even before it finished marking him. It was the Bastion Weave, a tattoo worn only by the Temple Knights of that ancient brotherhood of warriors Mufaun had idolized from boyhood. He touched the medallion hanging around his neck.
“What boy?” The words slipped from his mouth as he tightened his grip on the dead woman’s wrist, as if trying to coax her spirit back into her body long enough to get the answer.
There was no answer. Not now. But the images he’d seen, the boy and his guard were somewhere in the stronghold, trapped, and he had to find them.
Mufaun released his hold on the woman and bolted for the Dugheap’s only entrance. Rolen was at his heels, as were the two men going with them into the stronghold. Whatever lie ahead in the dark tunnels beyond the entrance they would face alone.
“Sergeant Rolen, you and two others are with me. Captain Steed, man the perimeter and track the monsters responsible for this. I want to know where they’re headed, how fast they’re moving, and how many prisoners they may have taken, and I want to be ready to move before I get back.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.” Both men responded at the same time and moved without further question. The time for questions was at an end.
Rolen was quick to return with two soldiers: one a scout, the other a man-at-arms. Steed had the battalion moving quickly to positions throughout the forest area surrounding the stronghold while he prepped what was left of his elite squad of scouts.
With Rolen at his side, Mufaun went to where the Battalion medic was treating the injured Chameleon. He knelt at her side. Her face was pale, sickly, bloodless. He glanced at the medic.
“Her injuries are internal and fairly minor as far as I can tell. Her jaw was dislocated, but I was able to reset it. The pain that must have caused I couldn’t imagine but she didn’t even stir. I’ve tried everything I know to wake her, sir.”
Mufaun looked the woman over another time. “Keep at it, Malone. Do what you can.”
“Of course, Lieutenant.”
As Mufaun turned to walked away, the Chameleon’s hand shot out and latched onto his ankle. He grabbed the thin wrist of the woman, but as he did so, his mind was suddenly assaulted with a barrage of images, caves, tunnels, rooms, stairways, and then seven faces. Three of the faces were men, the other three of women. At the center of the small group of warriors was a boy of no more than eight years. All around this boy, there was fear, the warriors surrounding him splattered with the blood of the enemy as well as their friends and comrades. But this boy, his eyes, vibrant, blue like Anduvian violets of the Southern prairie country. There was hope in these eyes.
“Find the boy. He is your only hope.”
The Chameleon’s words broke Mufaun from his trance and left him stunned, staring at the woman as she died before him. He still held the woman’s wrist in his hand, and a tingling there brought his eyes to gaze on blue tattoo that spread across his skin on the back of his hand and wrist. Mufaun recognized the intricately woven pattern even before it finished marking him. It was the Bastion Weave, a tattoo worn only by the Temple Knights of that ancient brotherhood of warriors Mufaun had idolized from boyhood. He touched the medallion hanging around his neck.
“What boy?” The words slipped from his mouth as he tightened his grip on the dead woman’s wrist, as if trying to coax her spirit back into her body long enough to get the answer.
There was no answer. Not now. But the images he’d seen, the boy and his guard were somewhere in the stronghold, trapped, and he had to find them.
Mufaun released his hold on the woman and bolted for the Dugheap’s only entrance. Rolen was at his heels, as were the two men going with them into the stronghold. Whatever lie ahead in the dark tunnels beyond the entrance they would face alone.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Chapter Eleven
Arrows flew from Rolen’s bow, but the trolls kept coming. They were everywhere, coming at them hard from every side. Rolen and his small little band raced up a streambed, the high banks giving them some cover from the return volley of arrows coming from the pursuing trolls.
One of his men took an arrow in the thigh but was immediately scooped up by the troll running with them. He had no idea how much further they had to go, but everything in him said it didn’t matter. They were going to die in this streambed.
Then it happened. Two massive trolls dropped into the streambed in front of them, knocking aside the arrows fired at them with the massive steel shields they were wielding. The fleeing party came to a sudden stop.
The arrows stopped. Three more trolls dropped into the streambed behind them. Trolls lined the high banks, some of them still plucking arrows from their hides. “You’re finished, humans. Surrender and you will be killed quickly.”
Rolen glared at the troll speaking to them, a brutish green and black skinned animal with a thick silver mane. “Surrendering is not an option.”
Harok Boneshard descended the streambed’s bank like a cat, agile and poised, pulling himself upright in front of Rolen. He drew in his breath, smelling Rolen. “You don’t stink of fear like so many of your comrades who have fallen today.” Then Boneshard saw the troll behind Rolen. His lips parted in a fierce growl just before he hurled himself at the Chameleon.
The Chameleon dropped the two bodies he carried as Boneshard struck him full in the chest. The two tumbled backward into the water, the fight fierce but short lived as Boneshard quickly overpowered the Chameleon, drowning him in the shallow stream. He stared at the lifeless human man now underneath him. “Your tricks will harm no more of my brothers, Shapeshifter.” Boneshard turned his gaze back to Rolen. “Kill them all.”
Rolen and his men reacted with trained experience, arrows flying at multiple targets on the banks above them, but the trolls descended on them with a fierce vengeance. Swords and knives were drawn as the trolls closed in on the small band, but just as the trolls closed the gap, a boulder crashed into one of the trolls, crushing it to a sputtering mound of flesh.
The ground trembled as Mufaun and his small army of stone giants and soldiers surrounded the trolls and their captives. “You can surrender now, and you’ll live. Fight, and you will die.”
Boneshard looked at Rolen, and Rolen could hear his own words in his mind. Boneshard wasn’t going to surrender. Not now, not ever.
The trolls attacked without warning, focusing their attack on the stone giants, but the trolls were beat down without much effort. Boneshard escaped, killing one of the stone giants and five soldiers before disappearing into the woods with only minor injuries. He made sure no one followed him.
Mufaun and Steed went immediately to Rolen, injured but looking to his men. All were alive, including the woman. Mufaun put his hand on Rolen’s shoulder, “You did well. It was a hard fight, not one you were meant to win.”
“It was my duty.”
“Does it end here? Or will you continue to serve me to the end?”
“I have served you faithfully and shall continue to do so, Commander, but I have a question, if I may speak freely?”
Mufaun had sensed something in Rolen since the beginning of the confrontation, he could have only guessed then, but here was an opportunity to know. “Speak your mind, Rolen. Hold nothing back.”
“The stone giant that killed my Second, Rone, said that I had been chosen to survive this battle by you. He called me by name and told me to serve you well in the battles that have yet to be fought.”
The silence that followed was eerie. Even the trees in the forest surrounding them seemed to be waiting for Mufaun to respond to Rolen’s accusation. Had Mufaun actually given an order condemning certain of his battalion to death? The mixed army of men and giant stared at Mufaun, some with looks of shock, others certain this leader of men would have given no such order. Mufaun knew he hadn’t. Steed knew his commander would never consent to the destruction of his own men. They were his family.
Lorn stepped to Mufaun’s side, opposite Captain Steed, and was about to speak when Mufaun laid a hand on the giant’s great stone elbow. “I chose each of you to serve in this battalion from the very beginning, some of you from your infancy in this army. I have trained you, given you Captains who could teach you how to survive and conquer in any confrontation. I have prepared you for the worst, hoping for the best. Last night, I made a choice, a hard choice, but the only one that promised a chance at saving this empire from the wiles of the Grand Marshall. I agreed to stay behind with a select few to help protect the Seer from the Grand Marshall. Those who would not be staying behind,” and Mufaun gave a look at Lorn, “would return to the Grand Marshall’s army none the wiser to the truth of our defection. That did not happen.”
“For your treachery to go unnoticed, I convinced Lady Julianna there was a need for this Grand Marshall of yours to find bodies, bodies he would recognize. It was by my design that the first of your fellows were taken in battle, but the treachery runs deeper than even your Commander guessed. The trolls were an unexpected enemy. Your Grand Marshall had condemned all of you to death, fearing your loyalty to your own commander.”
Rolen considered all that had been said, knowing time was short for all of them, then he looked at his Commander, “I am at your command.” He knelt himself before Mufaun. Men fell to a knee all around them. Even Lorn bowed himself to Mufaun.
Steed, who still stood at Mufaun’s side, turned to his Commander and said, “It seems we have work to do.”
“It does indeed.” Mufaun clapped the man on the back and moved forward to where Rolen was on his knee, “Rise, Rolen son of Fenn, let us make sure our fallen friends have not died in vain.”
One of his men took an arrow in the thigh but was immediately scooped up by the troll running with them. He had no idea how much further they had to go, but everything in him said it didn’t matter. They were going to die in this streambed.
Then it happened. Two massive trolls dropped into the streambed in front of them, knocking aside the arrows fired at them with the massive steel shields they were wielding. The fleeing party came to a sudden stop.
The arrows stopped. Three more trolls dropped into the streambed behind them. Trolls lined the high banks, some of them still plucking arrows from their hides. “You’re finished, humans. Surrender and you will be killed quickly.”
Rolen glared at the troll speaking to them, a brutish green and black skinned animal with a thick silver mane. “Surrendering is not an option.”
Harok Boneshard descended the streambed’s bank like a cat, agile and poised, pulling himself upright in front of Rolen. He drew in his breath, smelling Rolen. “You don’t stink of fear like so many of your comrades who have fallen today.” Then Boneshard saw the troll behind Rolen. His lips parted in a fierce growl just before he hurled himself at the Chameleon.
The Chameleon dropped the two bodies he carried as Boneshard struck him full in the chest. The two tumbled backward into the water, the fight fierce but short lived as Boneshard quickly overpowered the Chameleon, drowning him in the shallow stream. He stared at the lifeless human man now underneath him. “Your tricks will harm no more of my brothers, Shapeshifter.” Boneshard turned his gaze back to Rolen. “Kill them all.”
Rolen and his men reacted with trained experience, arrows flying at multiple targets on the banks above them, but the trolls descended on them with a fierce vengeance. Swords and knives were drawn as the trolls closed in on the small band, but just as the trolls closed the gap, a boulder crashed into one of the trolls, crushing it to a sputtering mound of flesh.
The ground trembled as Mufaun and his small army of stone giants and soldiers surrounded the trolls and their captives. “You can surrender now, and you’ll live. Fight, and you will die.”
Boneshard looked at Rolen, and Rolen could hear his own words in his mind. Boneshard wasn’t going to surrender. Not now, not ever.
The trolls attacked without warning, focusing their attack on the stone giants, but the trolls were beat down without much effort. Boneshard escaped, killing one of the stone giants and five soldiers before disappearing into the woods with only minor injuries. He made sure no one followed him.
Mufaun and Steed went immediately to Rolen, injured but looking to his men. All were alive, including the woman. Mufaun put his hand on Rolen’s shoulder, “You did well. It was a hard fight, not one you were meant to win.”
“It was my duty.”
“Does it end here? Or will you continue to serve me to the end?”
“I have served you faithfully and shall continue to do so, Commander, but I have a question, if I may speak freely?”
Mufaun had sensed something in Rolen since the beginning of the confrontation, he could have only guessed then, but here was an opportunity to know. “Speak your mind, Rolen. Hold nothing back.”
“The stone giant that killed my Second, Rone, said that I had been chosen to survive this battle by you. He called me by name and told me to serve you well in the battles that have yet to be fought.”
The silence that followed was eerie. Even the trees in the forest surrounding them seemed to be waiting for Mufaun to respond to Rolen’s accusation. Had Mufaun actually given an order condemning certain of his battalion to death? The mixed army of men and giant stared at Mufaun, some with looks of shock, others certain this leader of men would have given no such order. Mufaun knew he hadn’t. Steed knew his commander would never consent to the destruction of his own men. They were his family.
Lorn stepped to Mufaun’s side, opposite Captain Steed, and was about to speak when Mufaun laid a hand on the giant’s great stone elbow. “I chose each of you to serve in this battalion from the very beginning, some of you from your infancy in this army. I have trained you, given you Captains who could teach you how to survive and conquer in any confrontation. I have prepared you for the worst, hoping for the best. Last night, I made a choice, a hard choice, but the only one that promised a chance at saving this empire from the wiles of the Grand Marshall. I agreed to stay behind with a select few to help protect the Seer from the Grand Marshall. Those who would not be staying behind,” and Mufaun gave a look at Lorn, “would return to the Grand Marshall’s army none the wiser to the truth of our defection. That did not happen.”
“For your treachery to go unnoticed, I convinced Lady Julianna there was a need for this Grand Marshall of yours to find bodies, bodies he would recognize. It was by my design that the first of your fellows were taken in battle, but the treachery runs deeper than even your Commander guessed. The trolls were an unexpected enemy. Your Grand Marshall had condemned all of you to death, fearing your loyalty to your own commander.”
Rolen considered all that had been said, knowing time was short for all of them, then he looked at his Commander, “I am at your command.” He knelt himself before Mufaun. Men fell to a knee all around them. Even Lorn bowed himself to Mufaun.
Steed, who still stood at Mufaun’s side, turned to his Commander and said, “It seems we have work to do.”
“It does indeed.” Mufaun clapped the man on the back and moved forward to where Rolen was on his knee, “Rise, Rolen son of Fenn, let us make sure our fallen friends have not died in vain.”
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