Knights of the Dawn (Arcanum of the Dolmen Troll Book 1)

by R. J. Eveland

  Halfway to the cave, Phillick stopped for a moment to look back at where they had come from. The menhir off in the middle of the glen seemed incandescent. It was a rod of red-hot iron rising from the embers of a forge. His eyes wandered across the starry sky before they found Prestings’ culet. He lifted a leg to avoid a tumbling rock before he carried on again. He carried on in silence, heart pounding, wishing he could howl to alleviate the anticipation brimming in his guts.

  Above them was a ridge they couldn’t see over. Then their torches raised above it and the cave unveiled itself completely. The cave’s mouth was crooked and jagged, shaped like the mouth of a man writhing in agony, but it rounded near to a perfect O as it got deeper like a gullet. Stalactites lined its upper lip like teeth. The ground was sticky and moist like a tongue. A stench like foul breath lingered in the air with a dank warmth. Bits and chunks of human were scattered hither and thither like strings of meat betwixt teeth after a feast.

  “One look,” whispered Prestings as he stepped into the cave, “then we’re out.”

  Phillick was starting to wonder if Prestings had been right this whole time. He hesitated before he followed, whispering to himself, “Is this what being mad feels like?”

  Prestings led the way slow and steady, letting the reach of his torchlight unveil everything bits at a time. Phillick was right behind him, his torch adding to the glow that surrounded them like a bubble. The cave was longer than they had hoped it was, more ground for them to cover when they would have to run away. In his head, Prestings swore he had entered the mouth of a dragyn. The warmth grew muggier. The stench became a miasma. The stickiness under their feet grew into a thick slime that squelched when they stepped. Every few paces, a new cadaver was revealed by their torches, each one more ghastly than the last. Phillick shuddered at one that had been ripped into four pieces.

  “We better be getting close to the end,” Prestings whispered as his light exposed a bend in the tunnel ahead. It was a sharp turn left. “The bandits didn’t seem to make it this far. I wonder if the troll’s asleep.”

  “That would be a pleasant thing.” Pleasant things were the only things Phillick was willing to see. His eyes darted away from everything around him, darting back and forth because everything around him was so horrifying. Inside, he laughed at himself, picturing fields of flowers. He was glad Prestings was so eager to get this over with. Phillick would’ve turned back a dozen paces ago if it weren’t for his foolish convincing.

  When they made the turn, the tunnel opened into a capacious chamber. Prestings halted and waved his torch to either side, attempting to see ahead. The torchlight couldn’t reach the walls, and so all they saw was a sheet of black speckled by floating dust. Phillick swore his tinnitus had gotten worse, but it was the breeze blowing through the tunnel behind them that caused the constant droning. Beneath that windy hum was another noise; it was camouflaged well, but it was there. It added to the windiness, helped the atmosphere altogether sound like the rhythmic waves of an ocean, a heaving back and forth—the lungs of a dragyn.

  “Come closer!” A raspy, susurrant voice boomed from the darkness to scratch the knights’ ears.

  Prestings almost fell back from surprise. Phillick nearly dropped his torch.

  “Come closer! Don’t be afraid!” The voice sprang out of the shadows, sounding like a jet of steam bursting from a crack. “I have been expecting you.”

  Two long slender blades came ripping out of their scabbards. Prestings held his torch up higher, peering into the darkness with fiery eyes. “Show yourself!”

  A raucous caw suddenly sounded from behind the knights’ heads. Phillick spun around, slashing at the air. His blade glided past flapping blue streamers. Something white and steel-tipped fluttered over him. It passed through the sight of Prestings’ visor, through the light of his torch and he stared in wonder. The sight was so dazzling, Prestings sprung forth to keep it in his torchlight a little longer. Suddenly the back wall of the chamber was there. Prestings gaped in awe as he watched the white raven land on the shoulder of a troll. Suddenly he could distinguish the heavy breathing that helped fill the room with noise.

  Phillick’s jaw dropped as far as his armet would let it. The troll was squatting, hugging its knees with its back facing its visitors. It was an ugly, large back, a sheet of scarred gray skin expanding and contracting. Squatting like that, breathing heavily, the troll was still taller than the knights. It was the size of four men, or Carl and Karl mushed together. The back of its head had lonely wisps of white hair that stuck out in odd directions. Open wounds were numerous across its legs and waist, crisscrossing with old scars. Skeletons were scattered in piles all around it. The raven on its shoulder blinked at the knights, then the troll turned its head to blink at them as well.

  “I knew you would come.” The troll’s eyes glowed red and yellow like the planet’s core. “As you can see, Lord Spywater sent me his raven.” Its teeth were jagged and green enough to make Foulmouth’s look white and pristine.

  “You can talk?” Phillick didn’t realize he was smiling until he felt a pain in his cheeks. Suddenly, he felt like a little boy again. “I can’t believe it!”

  Prestings held his sword in a menacing guard. His smile was upside-down and crooked. “You know Lord Spywater? What kind of evil sorcery is this?”

  “It’s no sorcery, child.” The troll turned its entire body to face them, the raven on its shoulder tilting its head inquisitively. “It’s the way of the dawn, child.”

  “You’re casting spells on us!” Spywater wouldn’t believe his eyes. “That’s not Spywater’s raven. It’s an illusion, a trick, an apparition! You’re merely playing a vile game. Quit it, or my sword will quit it for you, troll!”

  “You want to see an apparition, child?” The troll made a grand gesture with its hands, its long slender fingers fanning the air. “What you see here is no trick. Come, come, I will use a trick to show you a real apparition. Come, come.” The troll turned around again, bending its long ugly back to stoop. It stared into a puddle on the ground. “Don’t be afraid. Come, look into this puddle with me. I’ll show you what a real apparition looks like.”

  Prestings stepped forward hesitantly, keeping the point of his sword aimed at the troll’s back. Phillick, on the other hand, strode over carelessly. There, over the troll’s shoulder, in the small circle of water, a glowing image of color could be seen. The puddle was a window looking down from high up in the sky. In it, Phillick and Prestings could see Castle Spywater’s donjon, the burnt corpses in the bailey, the camp down the road near the village, the patchwork of farms checkered across the surrounding land. They saw the endless furrowed fields, the lake that glimmered innocently, trawls casting from skiffs, picks hacking at roots, axes chopping wood in the coppices beyond. The village seemed to be living its normal life, but the castle was clearly under siege. The front gate was half-repaired. Stacks of wood and abandoned tools partly blocked the gateway. A heavy rain was falling.

  “You can’t see it from here, but Lord Spywater’s in the donjon reading with a cup of tea.” The troll turned its glowing eyes at the knights and the bright, multihued image in the puddle was gone. “What you just saw was a glimpse of the near future, a glimpse of Castle Spywater at sunrise. Lord Spywater still lives. His castle still stands. But he needs your help. He needs your help more than he cares to admit.”

  Sword still high, Prestings strafed back, glowering at the troll’s ugly face. “How can I believe you?”

  The troll held a finger in front of the raven. The finger was thin and crooked like the branch of a tree. Talons latched onto it and the troll held the majestic bird out for the knights to study. “Lord Spywater has cared for this bird nearly as long as he has cared for his castle, and you’ll learn that’s a whole lot longer than anyone’s bound to believe easily.” The troll gave the raven a gentle pat on the head, then ran a fingertip across its steel beak. “This raven is no natural beast. In ways, it’s smarter than any man aliv
e. What else do you think could’ve carved those arrows? It was this steel beak, of course.”

  At those words, Prestings’ sword lowered a little. As Phillick reached out to give the raven a pat, Prestings asked, “Do you really think we are children? Phillick, stay back. This troll is fabricating stories to play a wicked game with us. Don’t believe its words!”

  Phillick pouted, still patting the raven. “At least hear it out, Prestings. It’s making a lot of sense.” The weasel turned to show the troll kind eyes. “Go on, troll. Tell us how you knew we would follow the arrows.”

  Prestings growled loudly at that. He silenced himself to hear the troll out.

  The troll chuckled, slime dripping from its saggy lower lip. “Through this puddle, I’ve been watching you. I’ve been watching you like I’ve been watching the entire war that binds you. I watched when King Kilwinning took Wellimgale. I watched when King Spiderwell took Wittinberry. I watched when you fought Lord Montese’s band at Deadman’s Church. I jumped with joy when the ghost of a girl saved Sir Jax’ life. I laughed when you slaughtered those bandits outside my cave. I’ve been watching everything. I knew you would follow the arrows, just like I know you two are the ones that will save Lord Spywater from himself. I’ve seen it all in my puddle.”

  Prestings scabbarded his blade, not to show he was convinced, but as a mocking gesture. In the same motion, he turned his back to the troll and spat, “Rubbish! Come, Phillick. We’ve had our look. Let’s leave this rambling beast to regale itself with fairy tales.”

  Before even Phillick could raise a bodily response, the troll’s mouth opened. Slimy words slithered out. “You can’t walk away, Prestings. I’ve seen your fate in my puddle. Here, in this cave, you will learn the ways of the dawn, just as Lord Spywater’s done many, many years before you. You’ll do it because the ramifications of walking away are too great. With the ways of the dawn, you will save Lord Spywater from the fires that cloud his mind. I’ve seen it in my puddle.”

  With his torch swooshing in the dark of the cave, Prestings turned angrily. “What’s so bloody important about Lord Spywater? Even if I were to believe that’s his raven, I could never believe you would go through all this trouble just to save the life of one man. Spywater deserves to die for his ineptitude. If he thinks a castle is so important, he should crumble down with it.”

  The troll shook its large, ugly head. “This is about more than just one man, child. This is about ending your war forever.” The troll rolled its head to gaze into the puddle again. “This is about creating a permanent order of peace on your planet. By the ways of the dawn, child, Lord Spywater’s been assisting me for hundreds of years. He’s been a most loyal assistant, but now hatred poisons his mind. He no longer uses the ways of the dawn as I have taught him. It’s a great struggle within him; he vies to be human again. He needs to be guided back into the mist, back into the order of the dawn. With my puddle, I can only see so far into the future. I see many, many different endings. But one ending is this, Prestings: if you walk away now, your side will lose this war and the last chance to end war forever on Meliva will be squandered. You’ll see this, too. And that’s why you’ll stay. You’ll stay to learn the ways of the dawn.”

  Prestings’ knuckles were whitening on his hilt as if the blade would come swinging out again at any moment. “You make no fucking sense, troll! What is this order of the dawn, this coming back into the mist? You really want me to believe Lord Spywater’s been alive for hundreds of years?”

  The raven seemed to enjoy Phillick’s gentle rubs very much. It had hopped onto his vambrace. The childish knight stepped back to pet it more, running the fingers of his gauntlet through the white feathers. He stood back, listening to the troll’s response. Prestings’ nervous pacing was the only thing that reminded him this wasn’t a dream. This was real. “The order of the dawn is older than this planet. It’s older than any extant planet. It’s the oldest order in the universe!” Prestings cringed at those words. “Forgive me if my words are confusing, child. Many of your words confuse me as well, this word ‘troll’ you humans use, for instance. You call me a ‘troll’ as if I’m some creature of this world. Do you really think I was born on Meliva like you? I’m no beast of this place, child. I have come from a place far, far away.” Prestings shook his head as if what he was hearing was only weight in his ears that he wished to jiggle out. But at least he was listening, Phillick thought.

  The troll went on, its glowing eyes swaying with the rhythm of its words. “I was born on a planet known as Ba’alghazzam more than seven hundred thousand years ago. In all my time working for the order of the dawn, I’ve stumbled upon hundreds of planets like yours.” The troll dug his branchlike fingers into the ground, pulling up loose meliva. “It’s the way of the dawn for us to help these planets end their wars. I’ve been trying to end the wars here on Meliva for nearly thirty thousand years. I was here when the druids had their wars. I was here helping when those menhirs in the valleys were first erected. I was the one who turned the ordinary folk into druids in the first place. I taught them how to study the stars, showed them their place in the universe. It was with them that I almost succeeded in ending wars here forever, but their king was too bloodthirsty. The mistakes I made then will never be made again. Tomorrow, another chance to end all wars on Meliva will rise from the mists. By the hand of the dawn, you both are destined to be kings.”

  The troll’s glowing eyes widened. Its smile showed satisfaction as if some great work was finally coming together. “Now that the order of the dawn has you two fresh recruits to assist, an order of everlasting peace can be settled here. With your help, my work here will finish. The wars here will end. I will finally be able to leave this planet behind, but only to help the next one I find. For it’s the way of the dawn to help all creatures of the universe end their wars. Out of peace, the universe was made. Into peace, it shall go.”

  In his pacing, Prestings turned swiftly to bellow out his frustration. “You stare in your puddle of piss and claim we’ll be kings … you speak of ending our wars forever … you speak no sense! Someone kick me; I must be asleep!” He looked to Phillick, shaking his head in disbelief. “What have we stumbled upon, Phillick? Please tell me this is a dream.”

  Phillick looked into the deep, golden eyes of Spywater’s raven and knew this was no dream. “I don’t know. It all makes sense to me, Prestings.” Phillick raised his visor, showing his ratty eyes. They were pouting, glistening in his torchlight. “I suspected there was something odd about Spywater ever since Jax told me what was in Grendale’s pouch. It was a doll, Prestings. There’s something about that church Spywater didn’t tell us. I think he knew the ghost personally. If he’s been alive for hundreds of years, it could explain a lot.” Phillick smiled with half his face. “Besides, the troll seems friendly enough. I kind of want to believe him. Maybe our adventure is just beginning.” Phillick showed the troll his smile. “What’s your name, friend?”

  The troll smiled back, tilting its head to show affection. “Oh, Phillick, your heart is warm and tender.” The troll licked its lips, looking away briefly as if distracted by a fly. When it looked back at Phillick, its eyes were glowing redder. “My name doesn’t matter. I’m but a humble hand of the dawn here to end your war. When my task’s complete, it’ll be as if I was never here. I’ll be gone with the mist to rise with the next dawn in some other place.” The troll chuckled. “Or perhaps I’ll be remembered as the dolmen troll that ate a lot of bandits.”

  Phillick laughed at that. The raven seemed to chortle as well.

  Prestings was still stern. The clammy warmth of the cave wasn’t helping his head. He doffed his helm to shake out his sweaty hair. His torchlight illumed his angry face. He glared at the troll. “I’d love for this rotten war to end. War has been raging on this planet since before I was born. I wish it was different. But it will never be so. I’ve learned that there’s an innocence to it all. How can the almighty place so many men on a planet and expect us
not to fight? We’re no different than the beasts of the woods. You must kill to stay alive; it’s the way the almighty forced upon us.”

  “There is no almighty, child.” The troll raised a wrinkly arm to scratch the back of its head. With its raspy, susurrant voice, it spoke its words as if they were the words of a secret school, never to be repeated. “If there’s any such thing as the almighty, it’s you. You are the tenders of the garden, the children of the mist. This planet is yours.” The troll’s affectionate smile was unfading, almost seeming to grow slightly with each word. “You were right when you said there is an innocence to war, Prestings. On every planet where men walk free, war brews. Without the order of the dawn to lend its hand, war is always inevitable among men. That is true. I have visited enough planets to confirm it. It was also true when you said men are no different than the beasts of the woods. Without the hand of the dawn to give its guiding push, you must rely on the ways of the night to survive. We agree on that much, now understand this: it’s the order of the dawn that separates you from the beasts of the woods. It’s the rising light of the dawn that makes the night fade. Light illume you, child; let it open your mind. Now see that the innocence in your war is all gone!”

  The troll’s smile suddenly vanished. It rose high, towering over the knights, vehemence raging in its voice. “There’s nothing but guilt in your wretched war, child! Nothing but pointless death and misery! Once war becomes a choice, there’s no way it can be innocent. Light illume you, Prestings. See the truth! Once war is no longer inevitable, there’s nothing but guilt, guilt, guilt and more wretched guilt!” Saliva flew from the troll’s flapping tongue as it enlightened. “That’s why the order of the dawn was created, child. We speed evolution by removing the veils that blind you. We shed light on the minds of the innocent, to unveil the great responsibility they’ve been granted. When the blindfolds come off and your wars are over forever, your kind will finally evolve once more to experience life as the universe intended—illumed by the light of the dawn!”