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?
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