“Oh my,” said the bespectacled trollkin. “I had been certain that at least half of them would remain loyal to the Mother when their memories had returned.”
“They remembered their vow to the trees and they know that the Mother wishes the Grove destroyed,” said the king. “What do you think they will do now that they are gone?”
“They might try to return to Roo-Tan’lan and warn the Protector of the Grove,” Djeri suggested.
“Oh, I think not,” said Stolz. “It won’t take them long to realize that doing so would mean war between their two peoples. Besides, all they need to do is look at their own reflections to realize that any attempt to speak to the Roo-Tan would likely end in their deaths. I think most of them will still find their way back here.”
The king looked to Djeri. “You’ve been getting your memories back. What do you think?”
Djeri kept a careful eye on the king as he responded. “I wouldn’t be as optimistic as Stolz. They could come back, but I think you should act as if you know that they have spoken to your father.”
The king’s eyes narrowed as Djeri said the word father. “Then delaying the coming war has now become more difficult.”
“I think you know well what your true problem is,” said Stolz. Then, as nonchalantly as if he were suggesting fish for dinner, he said, “Kill Mellinda and many of your problems go away.”
“No,” said the king. “Right now the Mother wants her around so she stays.”
“But King,” said Stolz.
“I said no,” the king repeated. He shut the door and replaced the bar. “Turn your thoughts on other ways I can help my people.”
The king strode away towards the stairs and Djeri followed after him. He was certain that the king wasn’t thinking the matter through. Stolz was right. With Mellinda gone, most of the threat to the Grove would disappear as well. Just before the king started up the stairs, Djeri made a decision.
“Wait,” he said. “Please, my king.”
The king stopped with one foot on the bottom stair. He turned a set of weary eyes Djeri’s way. “Yes?”
He swallowed, knowing that he was likely about to cause himself a lot of trouble. “There are . . . things about Mellinda that you do not know.”
The king took his foot off of the step. “You have my attention.”
Djeri told the king of his experiences living with Mellinda’s followers. He told him of the secret meetings they held where they spoke against the king and called her the Troll Queen. He told him of her hidden experiments in New-Kin and the bodies he had seen disposed of.
“And those are just the things I have seen personally,” he added. “I worry that there is far more I know nothing about.”
The king had listened quietly to what Djeri had to say, his mismatched eyes staring off into the distance. Now he sat down on the stairs, his eyes downcast as he rested his arms on his knees. Gray came up to him and licked his human hand. The king patted the part-dog’s head. “Much of this I knew, some of it I suspected. But not the full depth of it. Why did you wait this long to tell me?”
“At first it was because I was loyal to her. Then, because I was afraid of her. But I couldn’t keep silent any longer. Stolz is right,” Djeri said. “She must be destroyed.”
The king closed his eyes. “And what happens when I kill the snake? Hmm? Will her followers sit back and accept me then?”
Djeri blinked. “Well maybe not at first, but-.”
“No! Instead, we will have our own war. Here in KhanzaRoo. Trollkin killing trollkin. And I, their king, will have started it. I, their king, will have just shown them that it is okay to disobey the Mother. And then when their memories return? How many will stay?”
Djeri frowned. “Then maybe we can convince the Mother first. The Mother may not know everything that Mellinda has done.”
The king pushed away from the stairs and stood with a menacing growl, towering head and shoulders over the part-dwarf. “I told the Mother everything! Everything about the Grove and everything about the snake! She made her decision! And I as Her chosen servant must follow!”
His anger was so palpable that Gray moved to cower behind Djeri.
“I see,” said Djeri, nodding at the king. “And what of the Grove?”
“If She destroys it we may all die anyway. I know this!” the king snapped and there was so much fury in his eyes that for a moment Djeri thought he might attack. Gray let out a whimper of fear and Djeri felt a warm puddle of urine gather around his feet.
The Troll King placed his hand on Djeri’s shoulder instead. A shiver went through Djeri’s body as, once again, he felt the chemical compulsion to follow his king. Surely this person could do no wrong.
“Yet I must trust the Mother,” said the king and his voice had taken on a feverish tone. “Perhaps she will not destroy the Grove after all, but merely live in harmony with it. Or perhaps, as She did with us, She will take the souls of the trees and they will be reborn, still protecting the world, but as part of the Mother! Do you see? We cannot doubt her.”
He took his hand off of Djeri’s shoulder and as soon as he did so the compulsion faded. The part-dwarf understood something important in that moment. The king was helpless. He saw himself in an impossible situation and was grasping at anything he could hold onto. Right now it was blind faith and Djeri knew that if he told the king what he was truly thinking the king would never trust him again.
“I trust in the Mother,” Djeri assured him. “And I trust in you.”
The Troll King forced a smile. “Thank you, Djeri.”
The king then headed up the staircase. Djeri followed as far as his own floor. Then he hurried to his room with Gray at his heels.
Djeri took a moment to comfort the shivering part-kobald and then he lay back on his mattress. He now understood that he couldn’t trust the king. Not completely. And Murtha couldn’t be confided in because she was too loyal to the king. Stolz? Perhaps, but the man was in his own helpless situation.
All Djeri had was Gray and the dog could do nothing more than provide company. Just the dog . . . well, perhaps there was one more person he could trust. But he had to make certain.
Djeri let out a slow breath and, finally giving in to the only option open to him, reached into his old memories. He let them roll through him in an unabated torrent. He went over everything he knew about bonds and bonding wizards. More importantly, he relived every memory he had of Tarah Woodblade.
What he learned was that he loved this woman. Before the Mother had taken him, Tarah had been the only future he had wanted. But what now? He was no longer himself. He couldn’t expect her to accept him as he was. After all, what could he, a monster, give to her? He tossed and turned in anguish as he mulled his options.
Some time, not long before dawn, he made his decision. He looked into the corner of his mind where Tarah had come from. There he found that bond that connected them. Not understanding completely how he was doing it, he pushed his thoughts through that cloudy whiteness that was the bond until he felt her mind on the other end.
She was lying on her mattress in Beth’s guest house, half asleep, her tortured thoughts still bent on her discussion with Djeri from the night before.
Tarah? he sent softly and at first she thought his voice was part of a dream.
“Don’t worry, Djeri. I’ll save you,” she mumbled half aloud and half in her mind.
Will you? he said. I don’t know if that’s possible.
That last thought jolted her to wakefulness. Djeri? Is that really you?
Yes, he said. And I think it’s time we tell each other everything.
Chapter Twenty
At Tarah’s request, the crowd in the Protector’s Conference Room was much smaller than usual this morning. Aloysius’ retinue had been stripped down to just the Stranger and one black-sashed steward. Xedrion had only Hubrin, Jhandra and Alexis with him. Justan, Jhonate, and Fist were the only others present.
Tarah had begun the disc
ussion by describing the trollkin, who they were and what their society and religion was like. Tarah then told them about the encroachment of Mellinda and how she had turned the mind of the Troll Mother against the Grove, following that up with a deeper discussion of Mellinda and the evils she was perpetrating in their society as she wrested power from the king.
Justan listened attentively, astonished at the culture that had evolved around this hideous behemoth. Tarah’s manner of speaking was straight forward, some might call it backwoods. Yet, she knew how to weave a tale and her description of the ins and outs of trollkin life were fascinating.
Nevertheless, there was something missing from her description. Justan noticed that, though she had positive things to say about the king of these people, she didn’t say much directly about him. There was some detail he was sure she was avoiding.
Warlord Aloysius’ thoughts were running in a similar direction. “Tell us more about this king of the trollkin,” he said pensively. “You say that he has recalled his past memories and that Djeri is certain that he can be negotiated with, but there is something you are not telling us. What sort of person is he?”
“I’ve been trying to think of the best way to say it,” Tarah said. She chewed her lip and turned her attention on the Protector. Her voice was full of sympathy as she said, “Before he was the Troll King his name used to be Xeldryn bin Leeths.”
There was a collective intake of breath at her mention of that name. After that, the silence in the Protector’s Conference Room was deafening. Jhonate gripped Justan’s arm and he put his hand over hers. I’m sorry, Jhonate.
I thought it possible that he had been swallowed and yet I had hoped . . .
I know, Justan replied. Xeldryn had been the only one of her older siblings that had understood her. The thought that he was dead had given her great sorrow, but this was even more difficult to understand. How should she feel about her brother now?
He saw the pain in Tarah’s face as well and he did not envy her the position of being the one to deliver that particular news. Xedrion’s eyes were boring into hers.
What does that mean for us? Fist asked through the bond. Bin Leeths means he’s related to Jhonate, right?
Xeldryn is the Protector’s oldest son, Justan explained. He went missing just before Jhonate and I started our journey to Malaroo. He had been out on the edges of the Troll Swamp investigating reports of disappearing villages.
Xedrion’s gaze dropped from Tarah’s slowly until he was staring at his reflection in the table’s glossy polished surface. He said nothing for several long seconds. Then he gripped the edge of the table, the veins on his arms bulging.
Jhandra stepped up behind him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. He looked up again and when he spoke, his voice was calm. “What has this behemoth done to him?”
“He is tall,” Tarah said hesitantly and it was immediately evident that the description wasn’t going to be pleasant. “His skin has a-. Well, half of his body . . .”
Her voice trailed off as Xedrion brought his Jharro staff in front of him and smacked it down onto the table. He gripped the end of it in his hand and twisted, tearing off a chunk in his hand. The Protector held the piece of Jharro wood out towards Tarah and as he did so it morphed, taking the shape of a bracelet.
“Show me,” Xedrion ordered.
Tarah stepped around the table towards him and reached for the wood. “Are you sure, sir?”
“Your dwarf friend showed you his memory of Xeldryn, yes?” said Xedrion. The connection made by Jharro wood objects was weak compared to a true bond, but this close it could be a very effective way to share memories. “Show me everything he showed you. I want to know his expressions, mannerisms. His way of talking. All of it!”
Tarah nodded and took the wristband. She slid it on and the wood molded to the shape of her wrist. As a student of Tolynn, she had used this method of communication before. Closing her eyes she pulled the memories Djeri had shown her to the forefront of her thoughts and pushed them through the connection, sending them to the Protector’s mind.
Xedrion closed his eyes as well. His lips twitched as he absorbed the things she was showing him and when he opened his eyes again, they were red-rimmed. Though his manner was collected, his voice was strained. “You will excuse me for a moment. I need time to process this. Hubrin will represent me.”
The Protector turned and walked to the far end of the room, and stood motionless, his back to the rest of them. Jhandra walked to his side. She didn’t put her arm around him, but simply stood next to him, offering support.
Hubrin moved to stand at the table and Justan was impressed at how well he was keeping his composure. He couldn’t have been any less affected by the information than the rest of them. Xeldryn was his fullbrother. Herlda was mother to both of them and they had spent much of their childhood together.
Aloysius felt it was time to change the subject. He leaned over the table. “Well, at least we have learned that the trollkin are capable of being reasoned with. That should be quite useful for our negotiations with them after we have destroyed their goddess. But it seems to me that nothing we have learned this morning alters our battle plans significantly.”
“What about altering our timeline?” Hubrin asked. “According to Miss Woodblade there are several hundred new Trollkin born every day.”
“Close to a thousand lately,” she specified.
Aloysius nodded. “It is true what you say. We know that every day we delay their numbers swell. We will need to keep that realization alive in our calculations. My commanders should arrive this evening. I estimate a week to get our armies mobilized followed by another week of coordination as our witches learn Durza’s techniques.”
Justan’s brow rose. The plan called for two hundred witches. “They would have to be some quick learners. Are you certain your estimation isn’t too optimistic?”
Optimistic is an understatement, Artemus icily observed.
The condescending smile the Warlord gave Justan reminded him who he was speaking to. “They will be ready.”
“Two weeks still means a possible 14,000 new trollkin troops,” Hubrin said.
“And we cannot forget the additional time it may take our strike forces to find the Troll Mother’s mind once we begin,” Aloysius said, his smile unchanging. “Fortunately, we do not intend to make a direct assault on KhanzaRoo itself. Even if all of the behemoth’s victims are reborn we will have enough manpower to prevail. After all, our army’s purpose is simply to keep the trollkin distracted until the strike forces are done with their task.”
A cold gust stirred through the bond as Artemus let out a groan of disgust. Can he say anything without coming off as pompous and arrogant?
The longer the talks had gone on the more frustrated the old wizard had gotten with the Gnome Warlord. His grumbling comments were distracting at times, but Justan didn’t mind. Whatever kept his great grandfather alert and active was a good thing.
“How are they gonna do that?” Tarah wondered.
“By attacking the Troll Mother directly,” Hubrin said. “We’ll start at the edge of the swamp. Our witches will be able to find her underground now that they know to look for her. We’ll use every trick at our disposal. Pepper, fire, whatever it takes to get her attention.”
“As I said, our armies are just a distraction,” Aloysius said. “The reaction of the trollkin to their goddess’ death will determine what course the war will take from there. I am fairly certain that they will lose their will to fight.”
Notice he has not even mentioned our part of this fight, Artemus said in disgust.
It’s the one part he has no control over, Justan replied.
The biggest threat of all, perhaps even greater than the threat of the Troll Mother, was Mellinda herself. In Justan’s opinion, her centuries of experience with magic combined with her possession of the Rings of Stardeon made destroying her the key to the whole war. Tarah had ev
en told them earlier that Djeri believed that if Mellinda was dead, the behemoth might lose its interest in the Grove.
One thing they knew about Mellinda was that she preferred to lead her armies from afar, keeping a distance from the battle. This meant she was likely to stay in KhanzaRoo. That was where Justan’s group was headed.
The main members of their force would be made up of Justan’s and Fist’s bonded. The bond protected them from the transformative powers of the Rings of Stardeon. That wouldn’t stop them from being killed by other types of offensive spells, but Justan and Fist could defend their bonded with shields.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to a head on assault, though. Not with a city of trollkin that could be willing to fight on Mellinda’s side. This was an assassination mission. A big part of that plan hinged on Tarah joining them. They were depending on Esmine’s magic to allow them to sneak up and kill Mellinda without being seen.
Justan hadn’t had the chance to bring it up to her because it had just been decided the night before, but he knew she wouldn’t refuse. Not with Djeri waiting in KhanzaRoo.
“These are your plans?” asked Tarah Woodblade, looking over the map on the table before them. She had missed the planning discussions the night before while she was reaching out to Djeri. Tarah pointed to the markers at the center of the map. “These are your troop positions?”
“Yes,” said Justan, gesturing at the cluster of markers she was pointing to. “The main encampment is there, not far from the border to the Troll swamps. Once one of our small strike forces is able to find and eliminate the Mother’s brain the armies will be able to move in on KhanzaRoo.”
“This won’t work,” said Tarah bluntly.
“Why not?” Justan asked.
“Because this takes most of your armies away from Roo-Tan’lan and the Grove,” she said.
Aloysius gave her a dull look. “Perhaps you do not need to be here for this stage of the planning, Miss Woodblade.”
She scowled at him.
“I disagree,” Hubrin said. “She may know something from her discussion with the dwarf that could help us.”
Behemoth (The Jharro Grove Saga Book 6) Page 32
