The cook walked to the fire and handed the items to Lucky. “Here, cut this meat into inch-thick strips and wash these vegetables. I’ll be right back.”
Not giving the young man time to protest, Jasper walked toward Kourash. The Seldaehne looked amused but let the portly cook pass without a word. Jasper filled a large pot with zucchini, green beans, and several small ears of corn. Afterward, he picked up a few basics along with a thin metal plate and walked back to the fire. Kourash followed close behind, observing everything the cook did.
“Go find someone else to watch,” Jasper finally said to the Seldaehne. Kourash didn’t say anything; he just gave an evil grin.
Jasper ignored him as he placed the thin metal plate on the grill, drizzled olive oil onto it, and placed the strips of tenderloin in the center to let them cook. Next, he had Lucky cut the potatoes and place them on and around the meat. Jasper busied himself washing and cutting the other vegetables into large pieces, which he also placed on and around the meat. After the meat began to simmer, he sprinkled a little garlic salt and pepper on it.
Walking over to the campfire, Marko made a show of smelling the food and said, “That smells good.”
“It’ll be ready in about an hour,” Jasper said to everyone.
It seemed the normalcy of the evening meal relaxed the teamsters a little, but everyone was still scared—everyone except Sachin and Grendel. The two remained aloof, and for some reason, Marko did not seem to care or be concerned.
When the food was ready, Jasper organized the plates, filled them with portions of food, and handed them out while Lucky made sure everyone had a full tin. Noticing the activity, the knight walked up to the cook and said, “This better be good.”
Everyone watched when Jasper tried to hand a plate to the knight. Marko shook his head and said, “You first.”
Dragahn watched the play of emotions across Jasper’s face, but the cook kept his mouth shut. He nibbled a small portion of each dish and exaggerated the motion as he swallowed the food. “There. Satisfied?”
Marko took the plate and studied the cook. The knight scooped up a portion and tried it. Kourash stepped behind the cook, waiting for Marko’s decision.
“Not bad,” he said finally. “Let’s see what he cooks tomorrow.”
Jasper breathed a sigh of relief.
Kourash stepped closer to the cook and whispered low enough so no one else could hear, “You’re mine, Cook. It’s only a matter of time.”
Jasper watched the Seldaehne walk away before handing a dish to Lucky. The other teamsters in line took small portions. Jasper tried to make small talk as they waited their turn, but the conversations dried up after the first few words. After the last teamster left, Jasper portioned out some food on a plate and headed toward Sachin’s tent.
Grendel was leaning against a wagon when Jasper approached. The giant’s hands never strayed far from his axe handle and his eyes constantly watched Marko and his bodyguard. Jasper handed him the large plate of food, which the big man took silently. When Grendel didn’t say anything, Jasper turned to leave.
Before he had taken his first step, he heard Grendel whisper harshly, “You should have done something when you had the chance. This charade of ours is going to get these people killed.”
Jasper just stared, dumbfounded, as Grendel stalked away.
* * *
With the level terrain, Xandor and Chert made excellent time down the roadway. The sun slowly dipped toward the horizon, and the temperature dropped with it. The trees gave off an ominous feeling as the shadows lengthened, something that only worsened the farther they went.
They had just passed the second mountain when the sun dropped below the horizon and the colors of the western sky began a rapid transition from the red-orange of sunset to the dark blue of night. They had seen no animals and heard no calls, which set them both on edge.
“Chert, how good is your eyesight?” Xandor asked, noticing the golden color of the dwarf’s eyes when they occasionally shined in the evening light.
“Getting better,” he replied.
“Is it good enough to keep us on the road?”
“You won’t be able to go as fast, but yeah, I should be able to do that.”
With the new moon out, the ground was shrouded in darkness. Stars dotted the evening sky, making it look like the forest was staring down at them with cold white eyes. Behind the trees loomed the third mountain.
Without warning, splintering wood and snapping branches shattered the eerie quiet. A large tree crashed across the road in front of the two riders, causing Xerxes and Sky to rear and shy back.
Chert yelled as he fell to the ground with a loud clatter, which scared the horses even more. Not able to see, Xandor whispered unintelligible words, the sound keeping both animals from panicking.
Xerxes gave a warning snort just before the sounds of movement reached the ranger from both sides of the road. Xandor patted Xerxes on the neck as he slid out of the saddle with his swords drawn.
“We’re surrounded by forest trolls,” Chert said as he picked himself off the ground. He grabbed his shield and his hammer and waited for a clear shot at the foul beasts.
“Trolls? How many?”
“I see four—two on each side of the road.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Is that a religious question?”
Xandor didn’t respond. Instead, he shouted, “Aduro!” Instantly, golden flames engulfed the blades of his swords, illuminating the road and woods around him. An inhuman scream echoed off the trees as the firelight silhouetted two trolls.
Large, clawed hands shielded their faces. Each stood more than eight feet tall, and their ruddy skin sagged in fatty rolls from their jowls and down the length of their torsos to drip over animal-hide breeches. Dull, black eyes glared at the ranger, darting to and fro in time with the dance of the fiery swords.
“Yeah! Come on!” Xandor yelled as he swung his long blades back and forth. The flames whipped as the blades cut through the air, causing shadows to dance and jump from tree to tree. Behind him, Xandor heard the quick rush of wind, followed by a dull thud and thunderous crack. A loud, guttural yowl erupted from the other side of the road.
“Try sticking your nose out again!” Chert yelled in dwarven.
Several small boulders, each about a foot in diameter, flew out of the woods toward the ranger. Xandor ducked and rolled to avoid them. As he started to come up, a massive foot rushed toward his face. The ranger continued his roll, and the foot stomped the grassy road beside his head. Jumping up, Xandor leapt toward the troll and slashed with his right blade. The burning blade swept across, missing the troll’s flaccid skin by less than an inch, but the heat from the flame caused it to blister and ooze a viscous, pale liquid.
The troll went berserk. It charged the ranger with its arms outstretched and mouth wide open, revealing teeth filed to jagged points. The fury with which the troll attacked caused Xandor to take a step back, but instead of staying in front of the creature, he spun sideways on his heel and let the troll rush past. As he turned, he followed up with a slash with both weapons, cutting deeply into its side. The creature howled in pain as the skin melted away and fat boiled out of the wounds.
Without warning, another troll slammed into Xandor from behind, sending one of his blades spinning away, its flame extinguished before it landed in the road. The ranger staggered under the weight and almost retched as the troll’s foul stench engulfed him. Strong arms wrapped around the ranger and squeezed the air from his lungs. In front of him, the injured troll stopped thrashing and turned around.
Black spots formed in Xandor’s vision. He struggled to keep his footing and not lose his other blade. Reversing the grip on his weapon, Xandor plunged the tip of his sword into the thigh of the troll holding him.
Letting go with a screech, the troll reeled backward. Before Xandor could escape the reach of its gangly arms, it threw a wild swipe with its claws and caught the ranger on
the side of the head, leaving three bloodied scratches.
Swinging his sword back and forth, Xandor tried to distract the two creatures and keep them at bay long enough for him to catch his breath. Both trolls respected the fiery blade enough to keep their distance, but the ranger knew it was temporary. He cast a quick glance around and saw Chert faring a little better. His shorter stature made it hard for the trolls to pin him down, and every time they tried, his hammer lashed out at them.
With a savage yell, Xandor leapt toward the troll on his right, and, with a perfectly timed two-handed slash, completely severed its leg above the knee. The troll lost its balance and fell over with a gurgled scream.
The troll on his left ignored its fallen companion and charged the ranger. Xandor was hard-pressed to avoid the flailing claws. He ducked under one, but the other caught him with a glancing blow, knocking him off his feet and throwing him into the edge of the woods.
Xandor heard the slapping of naked feet as the troll raced toward him. Looking around, he got his bearings and managed to pick himself off the ground just in time to avoid being trampled. The ranger grinned viciously, tucked and rolled back onto the road, and came up with his lost sword. The blade ignited.
“Wha’cha gonna do now?” Xandor taunted in Alashalian, still grinning.
In response, the troll at the edge of the trees picked up another small boulder and threw it. Xandor ducked and dodged away, feeling the stone pluck at his cloak as it hurtled past. Anticipating another incoming stone, the ranger spun back to face the thrower; as he did so, motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Glancing down, he saw the grasping hand of the one-legged troll reaching for his left ankle. With a cry of surprise, the ranger scooted away before the fell beast could snag him.
Chert threw a quick glance toward Xandor. “Would you quit playing?” Chert asked between a couple of shield bashes.
“Who’s playing?” Xandor growled.
Another boulder flew toward Xandor, and the ranger danced out of the way. The large rock sailed past, shattering the trunk of one of the barren trees. The ranger backed into the woods opposite the troll and let out a sharp whistle.
The troll, frustrated with the boulders, stepped out onto the road but kept just outside the firelight while he looked for a way to get around. Xandor pushed forward slowly, forcing the troll back.
With all the strength he could muster, Xerxes struck out with his rear hooves, planting them squarely in the troll’s back. The creature flew toward the ranger.
Xandor stood ready. With two quick motions, his burning blades swept through the troll, which landed in three pieces. Everything became quiet except for the sizzle of the troll’s skin.
Xandor looked around and found the one-legged troll crawling stealthily toward him. The creature snarled and rolled to a sitting position, lobbing a stone at the ranger’s head, but the throw was clumsy and the stone flew wide. The troll’s dark eyes simmered with hate as it watched the grim ranger approach.
Before the creature could stand, Xandor formed an X with the blades of his swords and beheaded it. With the eyes still blinking, the head rolled on the ground. The body spasmed and jerked as if still alive.
With a fierce howl, the trees swayed back and forth, their boughs creaking as their branches knocked against one another. The air turned icy and the anger of the woods practically smothered the two warriors and their horses. Dark, malevolent faces with red eyes loomed eerily in the firelight of Xandor’s blades.
Chert hurried over, his hammer and shield covered in bloody pulp. Behind him, the pulverized remains of two trolls lay scattered about. He looked around uncertainly and said, “I don’t like this.”
Black shapes closed about them. Their bodies absorbed the warmth from Xandor’s blades, extinguishing them.
With frozen hilts burning his hands through his gloves, Xandor slashed at one of the dark forms. His blade passed right through without stopping. A cold breath kissed his face, and the sweet smell of death filled his nostrils, overwhelming all his senses. He gasped for breath, not finding any. Fiery pain blossomed in his throat and chest.
Then it was gone.
Falling to his knees, relief flooded the ranger with that first taste of air. His whole body ached, and all he wanted to do was curl up and lay down. Instead, he forced his head to turn. Beside him, Chert was on his hands and knees with his lips moving. Xerxes and Sky stood nearby, the wild look in their eyes speaking volumes.
Out of the woods, slim, pale figures surrounded the dark specters, and the two ethereal forces clashed. Black voids and brilliant white lights filled the forest.
Xandor and Chert huddled in the middle of the road with the horses, not daring to move.
A feeling of anger grew along with an undercurrent of sadness. Silent flashes illuminated the swaying of the trees and the twisting of the limbs. Faster and faster, the lights flashed until Xandor and Chert had to bury their faces.
As quickly as it arrived, the anger fled, only to be replaced by a deep sadness. With it, an eerie calmness reigned, and the two warriors slowly peeked to see who had won.
It was hard to make out individual features, but the ranger had the distinct impression the ghostly figures surrounding them were elves. Their mouths formed words, but neither the dwarf nor the ranger could make them out.
The ghosts drew closer, their cold, inner light consuming the bodies of the trolls, turning them to dust. Xandor and Chert grabbed both Xerxes and Sky’s reins and backed away, careful not to touch the light.
The ghosts closed and formed a circle around them.
“What are we supposed to do?” Chert asked quietly, hefting his hammer and anticipating another fight.
“You’re the priest. Don’t you know how to deal with ghosts?” Xandor whispered back.
“Sure, if you want me to give them their last rites.”
“Do you think that’s what they want?”
Looking around, it was difficult for Chert to tell. The ghosts seemed to be staring at the two warriors, weighing them. Hate filled their eyes, but it was tempered by a tremendous sadness.
Chert switched to the musical language of the elves and said, “Halló.” The ghostly figures seemed affected by the simple elven word, and it sent a ripple through the forest. In the blink of an eye, they disappeared, and the four were left standing alone.
Xandor’s swords reignited, the golden firelight driving off the cold.
“What was that all about?” Xandor asked when he finally found his voice.
The dwarf just shrugged.
Xandor extinguished his blades, and Xerxes and Sky whinnied nervously in the darkness. The ranger took out his bone tube, shook it to light it, and checked the horses for any injuries.
While Xandor finished, Chert fished around in his pouch and pulled out several small jars of ointment and some bandages. “Xandor, let’s take a look at those scratches on your face.” The ranger knelt beside Chert and waited patiently while the dwarf cleaned and doctored his wounds.
“I hate the way this stuff smells,” Xandor said while Chert rubbed a healing salve into the scratches.
“Just count yourself lucky the troll didn’t rip your ear off.”
Chert made Xandor stand and turn around. “Do you hurt anywhere else?”
“Just my shoulder.”
“Let’s take a look before we get back on the road.”
After handing the dwarf his bone tube, Xandor removed his leather jerkin. Chert made him kneel again while he inspected his shoulder. “You’re going to have some serious bruises by morning, but I think you’ll be alright.”
“I guess we’re done for the night,” Xandor said as he stood and put on his leather and wools.
* * * * *
The Bison (October 23)
Wearing his heavy wool cloak, Jasper stoked the campfire, watching the sparks as they drifted skyward. It was an hour or two until sunrise, and a pale layer of white frost covered the ground.
The teamst
ers were asleep in their tents. It felt odd not having one of them on watch duty, but Marko’s men were now handling that responsibility. Then it struck him he didn’t see any signs of Marko or his men.
Walking to the chuck wagon, Jasper opened the rear storage cabinet and rummaged around, looking for the ingredients for breakfast.
Jasper peeked around the edge of the cabinet. Still no sign of the Northmen; however, he did see a faint light shining in the woods. Curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to investigate.
* * *
Concentrating, he channeled a little magical energy into the air around him. It rippled slightly and to anyone watching, the cook simply vanished as he stepped behind a tree.
Using the trees for additional cover, the cook followed the light and found Marko and Kourash talking with a spectral figure with red eyes. Ignoring the fear churning in the pit of his stomach, Jasper stepped close enough to overhear their conversation.
“Your trolls failed,” the figure said in a hollow voice.
Marko’s face darkened in the light of his small hand-held lamp and he said, “You were supposed to make sure the trolls succeeded. That was our bargain. What happened?”
“We were stopped by the elves.”
“The elves? What elves? They’re all dead,” Marko said a little too loudly.
“They, like us, are doomed to walk these woods for eternity.”
“Why were they there?”
“I do not know why they took an interest in this matter.”
“This complicates things,” the knight mused to himself. He waved a hand toward the specter. “You’re dismissed.”
The figure bowed and disappeared.
Marko and Kourash walked back toward camp in silence. Jasper followed, giving them a safe lead.
Occasionally, Kourash would turn as if he sensed something, his reptilian eyes scanning the pre-dawn forest. Each time, Jasper held his breath lest the Seldaehne catch him.
Son of Cayn Page 17
