The mine master's lips parted in a slick and hungry smile. He brushed his knuckles over her jaw and traced a fingernail down her braid. Boil tightened his grip on her shoulders. If only he could pull her back and stand toe-to-toe with the beastly mine master. If only the throbbing, burning aches and pains echoing from his last encounter with Skar didn't freeze his feet and turn him in to the mountain's greatest coward.
"What can I do for you, sir?" Ember asked Skar.
"What can you do for me?" The greenskin snorted a laugh and rolled his tongue over his lip, leering at the little digger shaking in his shadow. "You can do many things for me. Mating season's coming, and they'll open the soft hollows soon. You'll be one of my partners when they do."
Ember took a step back. Skar slapped Boil's hand from her shoulder and jerked her to him. "Oh no, no, no, my digger girl, you don't leave until I tell you to leave. I am high mountain blood. You're under mountain trash. You do as I say and nothing else."
Boil's heart twisted into a thousand knots. He wrung his hands and watched, powerless as Skar made his claim. Ember glanced behind her, the terror in her eyes building in them in the form of tears. The mine master grabbed her chin and jerked it to him. "If you're lucky, I'll even let you have my children. Digger women who have a high mountain litter get to live in the high mountain. Did you know that?"
She nodded, biting on her quivering lip.
"Good. So be a good girl, and maybe you'll get to live in the gold halls. Until then, you keep digging like you should." He pushed her back and glared at Boil. "Listen up, Boil. Keep an eye on her. If a single male touches her, I'll have his head. If a male even so much as smiles her way, I'll rip his lips from his face and kick him down a shaft. So you be my obedient digger and don't let her out of your sight."
Boil stared blankly at Skar. The mine master narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "Well?"
"I ... yes, sir," he muttered.
"Good. You're a good digger, Boil. Stay in line and who knows, you might just make something of yourself. Keep an eye out for me. I'll want to test my goods before the season starts, if you know what I mean."
Skar spread his arms until his hands pressed against either wall. He slinked backwards until he came to the tunnel's curve. "You'll hear from me soon, Ash."
With that, he vanished into the darkness. Ember and Boil stood in the tunnel, vacant stares fixed on the space the mine master occupied.
"He doesn't know your real name," Boil finally said.
"And if he ever does learn it, we're both dead. Why does he think my name is Ash? What did you tell him?"
He could have told her the truth then. The words balanced on the tip of his tongue, ready to leap out and slap her across the cheek. Instead of letting them free, he swallowed them. How could he ever tell her the truth, that he used her to save his own hide? She would hate him, and they would never see the sun together. Better to work on breaking through the black arch before mating season, and then this would all become a distant memory.
"I made a story up and it came back to bite me in the face. Ash was a friend I once knew, but she's gone now."
"I won't be his mate. I can't ever be that disgusting wart's mate. The thought of him on me…." Ember shivered, sucking in a sob. "No. I'll never let that happen."
"Because it never will!" Boil lurched forward and clasped her arms. "I'll keep an eye out for him. If he asks for you, I'll make something up. I swear I'll keep you safe, Ember. He'll never have you. I promise it on the emperor's golden crown."
She fell into his arms, her breath washing across his neck. "We've got to get out of here."
"We're almost through the wall. Freedom's on the other side, I just know it. Now that Skar's met you, he'll stay off my back. I can start sneaking back down to you and Urt at night. We'll work double-time. We'll get through this. We're higher than diggers now. Hell, we're higher than the high clans."
Boil kept his eyes locked on the tunnel where Skar vanished. They needed out of that mountain. Wound or no, he wouldn't let his fear control him any longer. It was time to get out for good.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A Puff or Two
Long nights Grump spent digging his trenches and filling them with Teacher's six types of earth. He dumped the last great handful into the final row and grinned proudly at his handiwork. He wiped sweat from his brow and turned to the old woman, spreading his arms. "All the rows, finally done! My garden's ready, Teacher."
"Your garden is ready? Oh my." She clucked her tongue and hobbled between the rows, prodding the soil with her odd cane. "Your rows are long, Grump. They are deep. Roots will anchor well in this."
His smile widened. He was a natural at this.
Teacher reached the end of his plot. The breeze toyed with her patchwork robe. A toad's croak added a peaceful rhythm to the night. Grump clasped his hands behind him and cleared his throat. "Can I plant now?"
Her back faced him. She reached an elm at the end of the garden, its wide branches splaying over his neat rows. She stroked her cane with wrinkled fingers crowned by long nails. "Plant if you want, but your garden will not grow. The plants will languish. They will die, if they ever break the surface at all."
His hopes plummeted to the pit of his stomach. "What? But I did everything you asked!" He stomped through the dirt until he reached her, his Hunger nipping at his heart. "I brought all six soils. I made two rows for each. You were going to teach me to garden now!"
"How do plants grow?" she asked.
Grump blinked and scratched his head. "You plant them. You water them. You feed them. This is how plants grow. This is what you taught me. Isn't it?"
Teacher sighed and shook her head, turning to him. Those hazel eyes of hers flicked over the dark earth. "There's one important thing you've missed. You can plant a seed, you can water it, and you can feed it with the richest compost, but it will not grow without sunlight. Plants are not trolls, my boy, they require the sun's warmth to sprout. This elm will cast a long shadow over your garden much of the day and keep your seeds slumbering."
"Well, how was I supposed to know that?" His words tumbled out a snarl. "I'm a troll, or did you forget? I cannot see the sun. I cannot touch the sunlight. I'll turn to stone! I don't know where the damned sun shines!"
"You're supposed to think. You didn't, and now you're throwing a tantrum because I did you a kindness and pointed out your folly before you failed. I thought about letting you plant your seeds and discover for yourself, but I'm a kinder teacher than that."
"Kind? I've been plowing these for days, and now you tell me I've sweat and labored for absolutely nothing? Do you know how much soil I've carried around?"
"Twelve rows worth?"
"It's not funny." The Hunger raged through his blood. He clenched his fists and stepped closer, towering over the hunched bean of a woman. His curse sang a song of violence, hummed a rhythm of death and whispered a lust for her scarlet blood. "You could’ve told me days ago. You've wasted my time. Toyed with me!"
"You'll not be lecturing me about wasted time. Besides, some work is good for you. Move your plot and we'll talk about planting seeds. Not before. And this time, think about the sun. It rises east and sets west. That's all you need to know. "
His knuckles cracked as his fists tightened. Behind him, Bah slipped out a nervous bleat. "What? No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Then we're done. Take your goat and leave. Goodbye, Grump. Watch out for elves. They know this forest a little better than you and I'm sure they've been keeping an eye out for the troll who's made all this ruckus in their woods."
"Why're you doing this? You're being mean, just like ... just like them!" He stepped forward again, raising his fist. He thought he had found a sanctuary, a place free of pain, but in her eyes he saw the other trolls, their anger, their hate, their sly snickers, and poisoned grins. They toyed with him. She toyed with him. They all deserved his Hunger. Maybe she would be the first to feel it.
; She lifted her chin and scowled down her nose. He clenched his teeth. His fist shook, raised as it was above her. The Hunger licked its chops. He could crush her skull with one swipe, break her back, and water his land with her blood. That would feed his plants, and then who would have the last laugh?
"Do it then," Teacher muttered. "Give in to your Hunger. Feed it. Will it make you better? Will it give you the peace that for so long has escaped you? Maybe then you will be troll enough for them once you take an old woman's life, and you can return home in all your bloodstained glory to add my bones to your brother's crown. Maybe you'll even take the crown for yourself."
His fist tightened so much his nails cut the skin. Blood oozed down his wrist and slid toward his elbow. Grump inhaled through his nostrils. Like a lion he roared, shaking the chasm walls. Terrified birds tore from their restful perches and squawked toward the stars.
Grump slammed his fist down.
It smashed into the soil a hair from Teacher's feet and radiated cracks around his trembling knuckles. He hunched at her level, wheezing. "I would not give you the satisfaction, Teacher. I am not weak, and I am not them."
Those hazel eyes of hers drank him in. She leaned forward and patted his nose, her sour breath accosting his wide nostrils. "Good. Move the soil, Grump. Move two of your rows tonight and come to my home once you finish. You want to plant a garden, but you haven't yet experienced the joys of what it bears. I'll cook us a nice meal, and maybe we can enjoy a pipe or two of some nice, dried thimbleweed. How about that?"
Teacher passed him, humming the same tune she always hummed. He straightened, wiping bits of dirt and rock from his knuckles. "You're cooking for me? But you just wanted me out. My Hunger, I—"
"I changed my mind. Old farts like me tend to do that. Now quit being a baby and get to work. And don't look so mopey while you do it. You look like an elf thinking about his glory days. It's depressing."
"This was more a lesson about my Hunger than gardening, wasn't it?"
"There's that clever troll, finally catching up." She paused at the opposite end of his plot and winked as she glanced over her shoulder. "Remember this lesson the next time that Hunger of yours rears its ugly head. There'll be times when life sticks a thumb in your eye and laughs at your carefully-laid plans. Do not let the monster out, no matter what you do. For when the Hunger comes, it leaves death in its shadow. You're right that you're not like them, and neither is your Hunger. I wonder—fear—what that could mean."
"But I controlled my Hunger today. I am stronger than it. I've always been stronger than it."
"As if this was some difficult test. You may think my lessons hard, but the trials this world will throw at you are leagues beyond a simple chore. You're a different kind of troll. Your kind has rejected you because they see it too, and I doubt you'll find much comfort in the lands of the fair folk. Everywhere you go and everyone you encounter will treat you unkindly, and that Hunger will always be whispering in your ear. I fear for you and those you will destroy when you finally succumb to its song."
Grump swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "I know my Hunger's strong, but I swear I'm stronger. I fear it, but I promise I'll never let it overcome me."
"Don't make promises you have no idea how to keep. When you break them, you'll never forgive yourself," she sighed. She leaned on her cane more heavily than before and looked to the stars. "Never."
"Then I'll promise to do my best."
A sad smile spread across Teacher's lips. Moonlight cloaked her hunched form in silver. She chuckled and swatted the air. "Thimbleweed, yes, that's a good medicine for what ails us both. I'll see you in a few hours."
Deep into the night and covered with the stink and sweat of hard labor, Grump finally finished the first two rows of his new garden in a patch of land far from any tree or rock that might cast a deep shadow. He nodded at his handiwork, absentmindedly playing with one of his tusks. "Perfect," he muttered. "Perfect."
He could start on the third line tonight. Maybe Teacher would appreciate his passion for his new trade. Then again, in all the nights he'd spent in the gorge with her, this was the first time she invited him to dine.
"That old bat would take it as an insult, Grump," he muttered. "You should go see what odd food humans eat. Who knows? Maybe you'll like it better than what you ate back home."
Grump laughed and gazed into the milky moon. "Maybe."
His eyes lingered on the moon and its crown of stars a little longer before he wiped the muck from his arms and made his way to her stone cabin built along the brook.
Odd that he never ran across her home before the night they met despite having scoured the canyon for fair folk, but he suspected it was just another odd thing in a long line of odd things about her.
Even deep in the swamps and tucked away from the rest of Oya, trolls knew of mojo. Other races called it other names, but no matter what the title, everyone knew it was dangerous. Whether or not Teacher really practiced mojo, he couldn't say. Grump didn't ask, but he had an inkling he now knew why the elves kept their distance from her home.
He rounded a hill, and the cabin appeared along the winding river, tucked between two mighty oaks with branches sprawling skyward. A roof of packed grass and peat moss capped the round, cobblestone mound of Teacher's home. Ivy snaked up speckled walls and nearly covered both small windows set beside the wooden door.
Her cauldron boiled outside on a tall tripod over crackling flames. Steam writhed like wild tentacles from the pot's iron mouth. Beneath it, the fire simmered and popped over cedar planks that sweetened the night with their roasted aroma.
Grump's nose discerned onions and garlic woven with the smoky cedar. He swallowed, rubbing his tongue along the roof of his mouth.
Teacher plunked her staff into the cauldron and stirred, singing in a language he didn't understand. He caught her eye flick to him before settling back onto the pot.
"I've never smelled something so—so wonderful," he said.
"Oh boy, then you better have a seat before you have a taste."
"Why's that?"
"Because otherwise my stew is liable to knock you on your ass!"
"If stew can knock out a troll, we should make enough to feed all the hamlets in the blackwoods. Maybe then Farlain could get some peace."
She took a deep, triumphant breath and laughed. "If only it were so easy, but your kind has two kinds of hunger. My stew only cures the kind of the belly, not the heart. Here. Would you like to try stirring?"
Teacher thrust the staff toward him. Grump stared blankly at it. "I've never cooked before. Unless throwing meat on a bonfire or brewing swamp ale counts. How do I stir?"
"Make a slow circle," she said with a smirk. "It'll keep the ingredients moving around and cook nice and even. Don't do it too quickly. No, that's too fast. Slow down. There you go. Like I said, nice and even."
"Is this cooking? It’s not so hard. It’s kind of ... calming. I like it."
She snorted and pulled out a long pipe carved from antler horn. After shuffling around in a pocket, she produced a handful of little leaves the pale grayish-green of tree lichen and stuffed them into the pipe. "It's stirring more than cooking. You'll have to experiment a little with your own food once your garden starts producing, but it's hard to go wrong with soup. Heat up water 'til it boils. Add some salt, pepper, and garlic, and throw in whatever looks nice. Make sure your roots and vegetables are soft but not overly so. The harder they are when you throw them in, the longer they'll take to soften up."
"Sounds easy enough." He leaned over the pot and inhaled. Steam twisted into trails that spiraled into his nostrils, growing a grin that spread cheek to cheek. "Garlic. Onions. Celery. Carrots. Peas. Cabbage. Chickpeas."
She arched a brow as she packed the last of what he guessed to be thimbleweed into her antler pipe. "Good gods, I knew trolls had a keen nose, but I didn't know it could put a Vosh bloodhound to shame. You very nearly guessed it all."
"Well, there's a h
int of coriander too. It's not much, but it's there."
Teacher slapped a knee. "That's it! Good work, Grump." She set the pipe on a three-legged stool and headed to the cauldron. "Looks about done. Here give me that."
Grump handed the staff back to Teacher. He frowned at the carved raven with its odd antlers. Did his eyes deceive him, or had it twisted to the side?
He shook his head and plucked two nearby clay bowls from the ground. Teacher grabbed a ladle hooked over the cauldron's lip and began scooping her rich broth into the bowls.
"I'm sorry for letting my Hunger get to me," he said.
"Bah, it's no matter. Hunger's in your nature, but so is something stronger than it. I trusted the good within you would calm the bad."
"But I did want to hit you. My thoughts were...dark."
"Thoughts often are." She inhaled with her eyes closed, her lips parting in a smile. "That soup smells so good."
"I could've killed you, Teacher. I'm dangerous. I controlled the Hunger today. But you're right. What about tomorrow? The next day? One day I will fail, and someone will be hurt. Killed. It might even be you."
Her eyes opened. The hazel glimmered like blazing gems. "You're dangerous, but you wouldn't have killed me. It would take more than one troll to break this old hag's back, I promise you this."
"Teacher, do you use mojo? Magic, the fair folk call it. Are you one of them mages?"
She took another puff of her pipe. "Would you fear me if I was?"
He shrugged. "I've never seen mojo. It's not really a troll thing, except for a few shamans here and there. We know the stories like everybody else, of the old times when the Ridge hadn't split Oya in two and the Torn Ocean was the ocean to other lands and not what kept the other lands from us."
"There's a reason Oya is a great island above the world, Grump."
"Wizards?" Grump snorted. "They're just a bunch of fairy tales. If they ever lived, they're gone now. I'm not afraid of them."
"You should be. I fear them," she said, her smile fading.
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