by J P Nelson
JéPahn heard her mind suddenly yell, [I want MO-OR-R-R-RE!]
Dessi and Seedle ran quickly from prisoner to prisoner, cutting their bonds. Of the new group brought in Dessi saw Guen, then ran to him and sliced his bonds.
In hurried breath he asked, “Corporal, can you lead them in?”
“Give me a weapon sarge and I’ll---”
“No! I need you to lead them in, we will cover you.”
Guen was disappointed, he wanted to fight, but replied with gusto, “Aye, sarge. You got it.”
Quickly, Dessi unstrapped one of his dirk belts and handed it to the man, then his crossbow and quiver, “Here, you are in command.”
Most of the men were in mobile shape, but some had to be assisted. There were only two more to cut down, the ones closest to the building apparently being used to store the dried meat, when of a sudden two of the wizardly trolls were seen at the top of the building. One was barking orders, one aimed one of those rod things at Dessi, then trolls of varying sizes began coming through the woods.
In one movement, Seedle sheathed his dirk and swung his staff up to hold crossbow-style. From the hip he thought forward through the front and … z-z-z-zh-h-h-hct-t-t-t … the one with the rod lost a lot of weight around the middle. His arms and legs dropped from where they were as his head spun in the air, but his body was hurled backward past the building and out of their view.
The other troll jumped in sudden amazement, then directed his attention on the troll-dressed human. Seedle said, “Oh shi-i-it-te …” and side-stepped further away from Dessi to keep the troll’s attention.
Dessi was holding his sword at guard as two trolls ran toward him brandishing machetes, yet he was unwavering as he sawed the bonds of the first of the last two men. He cut through the last strand and kicked his fellow away as one troll levied a cross-strike.
Dessi stepped in and executed an umbrella block continuing into a chopping down-strike to the neck, then with a right-spinning step he fanned his wrist into a backhand swipe that split the throat.
As the second troll thrust, Dessi deflected with an arcing down-fan of his dirk followed by an upward swing of the cutlass that pressed the arm up. The basket hilt of the blade now against the triceps, a roll of the wrist and the Marine withdrew the blade to sever muscles to the bone. Continuing the motion, he slapped the troll with the blade edge across the belly and disemboweled the brute.
Seedle’s troll threw something like a white pebble at him, and suddenly felt his breath become labored and heavy, his body starting to stiffen and become solid like … iron? Thinking fast, he remembered the staff being able to melt something. Seedle turned the effect in on himself.
Halfway falling to his knees, Seedle staggered to one knee to his opponent’s amazement and took careful aim down the length of the staff and released the other super-bad-bolt. It looked to hit something unseen three feet in front of the wizard’s outstretched hand, as the troll immediately turned in stylistic form and a lightning bolt hit Seedle hard on the staff … knocking him down and sliding fifty feet across the ground.
Dessi had cut the last man down, who fell, and the Marine was standing between him and more trolls. One troll was almost upon him when a bolt took the troll in the throat. Quickly glancing back, Dessi saw Guen turn into the forest to reload his crossbow on the run.
Men with weapons … led by a woman … were suddenly coming into the clearing as two trolls on flying sticks made an appearance.
The staff was fine, and a frizzle-haired-Seedle stood as he once more aimed the staff with that make-whatever-hard effect, this time from the hip, no aim, just visualizing … pm-m-mth-th-th … an ugly mottled brown and gray pellet flew to the troll. His eyes got big and round with astonishment as he opened his mouth and turned to dodge, but too late as in seconds he turned to stone.
Feila was slicing and dicing as she yelled instructions. Dessi sheathed his dirk and switched hand grips with the sword, prepared to fight left-handed, as he scooped up his fallen man and slung him over shoulder. The flying trolls began to fire their rod-weapons and Seedle timed the bolts. They were infrequent … must take some time to recharge or whatever.
Hiding behind a tree, he saw one come close. Slinging the staff behind him, Seedle ran out, stepped on a stump and jumped to the back of the flying troll.
Anchoring his legs in place, the man wrapped an arm around the enemy throat and drove two powerful uppercuts into the ribs. Seedle thought, ‘Feels just like a man …’ and drove in two more, hard.
The strangling troll rolled and banked, but Seedle held on as he said, “I have rode too many bulls, you ugly mother-humper!”
Flying troll gargled a barking response and tried to aim the rod backward at Seedle’s head, but Seedle wrestled his foe as the stick flew with only partial control. Seedle ducked as a branch swiped the troll in the face.
Suddenly the rod discharged as Seedle lurched. Realizing the troll in front of him was headless he exclaimed, “Hair-of-the-lizard!”
Seizing the rod, Seedle grabbed the neck of the flier and rolled, dumping the troll into the fight one hundred feet below.
Zipping by and into the woods, he turned about low, coming in just over the heads of the fighters. As he reentered the scene, he saw Jha’Ley and Toagun break through the woods and engage the battle.
Seeing an airborne troll, Seedle headed straight at him. Aiming the rod in his hand, he attempted to fire it as he did the staff. The weapon responded with … f-f-fs-s-s-st-t-t … as the purple stream of light hit the troll full in the chest. The troll flew backward off the stick, as the stick whizzed into the woods and into a tree.
Seedle watched the stick fly by, then smugly said to himself, ‘I am getting the handle on this …’
He looked back where he was going and something as tall as the tall trolls, but twice as broad, covered in coarse slimy hair, scabs and lesions oozing puss and a dumb look on his face stepped from behind a tree and swung a club at him. The flying stick shattered on impact as Seedle hit the ground once more, rolling for several feet trying to absorb the velocity, then coming to a slow stop. He groggily glanced up to see he was in the midst of several angry trolls.
Only feet away, the big slime-ball came for him with club raised and yelling in a garbled unintelligible language. Then as if through the glaring sun he saw a savage-looking figure, stripped to the waist, his rippling muscles and face covered in war-paint, hurtle to intercept the ogre at an upward angle with a blood-curdling yell. The savage was using a pair of two-foot-long Sparkaen Swords, one as a lead weapon, but the other looked to have a blade made of silver and it was cutting as a hot knife through butter.
In moments the savage had dissected the ogre with surgical precision, rolled onto his back and leaped upon the next available target. Wrists, arms, legs, even a head was severed before Seedle could get up and draw his blackened machete. All the while the painted warrior was yelling like a fiend.
Seedle found the rod, which slowly began to thrum in his hand as the half-naked man rolled forward into a pair of charging trolls, rose up swinging his blades up like wings, did a 180˚ pivot in mid-air, landed in reverse position between the startled pair, sliced across their bellies, switched into an upward cross swing cutting one and severing the other’s thigh, then ran both through from behind.
What startled Seedle even more, was not far away he saw Caroll in same fashion. The man was painted in white and blue, a great shield was on his arm and the man could use it.
Another flier … how many were there … came in low and fired one of those rod things point blank at Caroll. The big man took the blast against his shield with virtually no effect. As the troll went by, Caroll’s blade, now glowing, came down and sliced through the troll, arms, Y-section of the flier, and even the rod … all with one swipe. Pieces of the troll and stick flew through the air into his accomplices at thirty knots as the rod exploded.
Without wasting motion, Caroll spun left-wise to bash another troll with the s
hield’s face-spike, then he turned to the right to ram one in the torso as a shickt-t-t sound could be heard. Retracting the blade he dropped to the knee with a twist and caught swinging strikes of two trolls on the shield. With an upward swing of that glowing scimitar he severed one arm, then in a circular motion decapitated the heads of both with one swipe.
Seeing another ogre lumbering in to attack, Seedle aimed his rod and blew a hole in its middle. It stopped, looked confused, held its belly and said, “Oh-h-h-h-h …” then fell to its knees and on its face.
Caroll paused to tell Seedle, “It pleases me to see you.”
Seedle was awestruck when the painted savage stopped for just a moment to reveal Fhascully.
With machete in one hand and rod in the other, Seedle nodded and smiled, “You have no idea how much it pleases me to see you.”
Chapter 68
JHA’LEY AND TOAGUN heard the sounds of battle before they reached the prison camp, but not before crossing the tracks of two groups of people. One group had split from the other, and a third but much smaller group split from the first.
Toagun called out, “Jha’Ley, this is Caroll’s print. I’d know it anywhere; big as a barn but walks as soft as a sparrow.” He looked to the commodore, not expecting an answer, “How’d he get here?”
Jha’Ley was thinking, “I do not know …” then he shoved his mate and jumped in the other direction, “… watch out!”
A flying troll swooped low and aimed his weapon, the blast missing both by inches. Toagun immediately had his Beckerson up and took a shot, but the troll kept going straight ahead.
“Did you miss?”
The troll ran straight into a large oak; the stick shattered and its rider stuck to the tree for a moment, then slide down into a crumpled heap upon the ground.
Jha’Ley looked to Toagun, “Guess not …”
Moving quickly toward the camp, they encountered two tall trolls and something else just as tall, but twice as big and three times as ugly.
Toagun’s eyes got big, “Is that a troll?”
Jha’Ley was taken aback, “Uh-h, no … I think it is an ogre.”
Taking careful aim as the three noticed them and started to rush their way, Toagun shot the ogre right through the left eye. He exclaimed, “Bang-g-go-o-o!”
But the ogre didn’t fall. The two trolls looked back at him and they all watched it shake its head as if a bug had flown up it nose. It shook its head, tilted, and then shook again. Reaching up it grabbed the bolt and began trying to pull it out.
Toagun looked incredulously to Jha’Ley, who in turn was alarmed, and asked, “Look, the barb is out the back of its skull … does it not have any brains?”
“Your blade, man, they are coming this way!”
Lunging to meet the rushing trolls, Toagun went for the one on the right, Jha’Ley to the left, but at the last moment they switched targets. Toagun had his combachete in a two-hand grip as he jumped forward with a whipping tornado-kick-like move, but instead of a kick he hacked hard to his troll’s thigh.
Jha’Ley slid under Toagun’s leap, scooted under and between the big brute’s legs. He placed his dao-sword edge up into the crotch, then stepped in with his shoulder and took the grip with both hands, turning opposite the troll he put all his strength into a throwing-like maneuver, then turned to swing the blade like a club to slash through its right hamstring.
Both trolls were howling in pain and turning about. Toagun’s troll yelled and raised his weapon to swing, but the man swung that heavy combachete in a deep overhand circle and severed the ankle. Back-stepping to Jha’Ley’s troll, now bent over and trying to stop its bleeding groin, Toagun swung upward and severed the head.
Jha’Ley rolled and as Toagun’s troll fell, he chopped down into the back of its neck, severing its head as well.
They met Guen who had crossbow in one hand, and the other under and around the shoulder of a wounded man. Guen excitedly reported, “Commodore! We have reinforcements, sir … Sergeant Dessi and Cob Seedle are here … and more …”
“Sergeant---? Toag, let us hurry. Corporal, carry on …”
Into the fray Jha’Ley was stunned to see Klaus hacking and slicing every which way. Was that … was that Feila?! And then he saw, “POP?!”
Albri was furious, concerned, panicked as there was no sign of Jha’Ley anywhere. He fought like a man possessed. He was covered in cuts and blood, but he felt them not. His dao-sword sang a song of death as he deflected weapons, filleted muscles from bone, performed a back-flip over one troll to kick him into a javelin, rolled behind another while reaching under to throw the brute backward to break its skull against a rock.
When he heard Jha’Ley’s voice across the battleground, he looked frantically around and saw, then cried out, “Jann Raul!”
Momentarily distracted, he was struck by a cudgel from behind and went to his knees. He did not see Jha’Ley’s sudden adrenaline surge. He did not see Jha’Ley’s eyes widen in rage as a troll came between him and his pop … the man’s explosive spinning-hook kick which destroyed the troll’s skull … how Jha’Ley jumped to the shoulders of said troll before it fell and vault ten feet up into the air, perform a double roll across an expanse of fifty feet … landing in a straddle fashion around the neck of another troll, carrying him backward and to the ground … spinning about, breaking the troll’s neck … running forward and spiking his dao-blade point down into the ground and executing a cartwheel … coming between Albri and the troll about to follow through his strike to the man’s head … and with blinding speed and inhuman strength slicing the cudgel, severing arm, then gliding his blade completely through the troll’s torso … the lower half walking several steps before falling beside its upper body.
For only a moment there was pause as worried son and anxious father clasped forearms. Jha’Ley asked, “Pop … are you okay, what are you doing here?”
Suddenly, Albri yanked Jha’Ley out from a targeted strike as he stood and parried the blow with a overhand snap, then with an overhead fan technique slapped the troll across the eyes, following with an under-hook that put him hard on his back, and a pivot accompanied with a downward strike to the throat. Looking to Jha’Ley through hair matted with blood and sweat, he grinned, “I came to rescue my son … do you happen knowledge of a lad named Jelly Roll?”
Feila saw with satisfaction Albri fighting back-to-back with the man who she surmised could only be Jann Raul Jha’Ley.
The blade of the woman known as the Flane was forged of Kushane, that rare, unbreakable, acid and rust proof metal known as d’warvec steel. It was over four thousand years old and had been wielded in many battles by elves, humans, d’warvec, two known minotaurs, a centaur and an org. It was a forty-two inch long double-edged broadsword with a twelve-inch hilt, the grip said to be shaped from the bone of a red dragon, and it was perfectly balanced at the cross-guard.
A person of skill could do a lot of damage with that sword, and over the last thirty years Feila had done much damage. She had met Halmasharr the Great at S’Hoat Pass in a dual of champions, his army on the east cliff, hers on the west. His bandit warriors laughed when a mere woman came out to meet him. But eight minutes later she had castrated him for his many atrocities done to victims abroad. An hour later he had killed himself in shame.
Since then she had fought many battles and made many regions safe. She had tried retirement, but a teahouse was not enough to keep her satisfied. She was a warrior, and a warrior needs a cause to achieve or defend. This particular day with the trolls revealed to these men what Nahjiua and Shudoquar knew well … her ability to anticipate movements was eerie, calm in combat unequaled, strength and endurance beyond most men, speed described by Gordi as ultra-human, and her strategic prowess of uncanny precision.
Feila did not spend her time striking one troll at a time, she fought them all at once. One aimed a thrust and she not only parried, she used the same movement to deflect into another opponent … a cut to an arm flowed into a s
lice of a different target’s thigh or hamstring … a blow to one torso saw her roll over the troll’s back to stomp the knee of another … when she came corps-a-corps, a spring-loaded spike in her shin-guard protracted past her knee, allowing her to gouge into the inner thigh or groin … all the while giving tactical commands as she glided from adversary to adversary, knowing exactly where everyone was at any given time in her line of sight.
Jha’Ley marveled how she moved with the grace of a great cat and as quiet as a ghost. There were even moments when he couldn’t see where she was, and then suddenly he saw her at a different position with no idea how she got there.
With the skill of a chess master, she maneuvered choice men where she wanted them. Feila directed Fhascully, Caroll, Seedle and Klaus to enter the sizable store building … she needed to clear the area to ensure no prisoners left. But then in the not too far distance, they all heard a high-pitched, unidentifiable sound and a flashing of red light. The whole fight stopped in mid-motion as all were taken off-guard and confounded. Then an ogre came flying through said building, busting it down with violent impact.
JéPahn was entranced in Lesli’s mind as she gave herself to the absorption of eldohrich power. Not only was she taking in the effects the wizards were hurling at her, she suddenly found way to tap into their prepared but as-yet unreleased effects.
The wizard who had run into the tent came out carrying a crystal sphere, but then became sluggish as JéPahn felt her tap into the scrying device as well. The crystal exploded as Lesli reached out even further. JéPahn could feel the minds of the wizards in dire pain as the young woman siphoned their energy away … then she found another … JéPahn could hear and feel her lust, [… Mahrufael!]
JéPahn felt her taste his sword and dagger, then reach for him as the mentahk sent a mental shout, [Lesli … NO-O-O!]
But she would not hear. JéPahn could feel-see Mahrufael engaged with two trolls … then his mind became sluggish … his blades flickered … a club struck him and the dagger went flying … the other struck and the elf went down …
