by Jake Adler
By the evening of the second day they had reached the treacherous, black rocks that lined the Eastern coast of the Isle of Vallan. The light was fading fast as they dropped anchor as a curious crimson glow filled the darkening skyline. Cara heard footsteps behind her and turned to find Master Bedwyr approaching. His face looked ashen as he attempted to offer her a weak smile.
“Stay close to me,” he said as he placed a fatherly hand upon her arm, “no matter what happens, do not stray from my protection.”
“I will,” she whispered.
He nodded and sighed as his hand fell away, “There will be much bloodshed and many will not live to see tomorrow’s dawn. My greatest fear is the abomination that we will face inside the vault,” he paused then spoke with a tired voice, “as a creature of magic, it will either retain some memories of the great wizard or it may just be a mindless beast that I can swiftly slay.”
Cara saw the book of the Seer clasped tightly in his left hand, “What did the Book of the Seer tell you?”
The Grand Mage remained silent.
“Whatever it is, we shall defeat it. I have faith in you.”
She saw tears glisten in his eyes as he looked at her with an expression that she could not place. Fear suddenly gripped her insides as she realised that the outcome remained uncertain. The book of the Seer had revealed itself in the past as being selective in what it wanted to reveal to them about the future. There was no guarantee of survival for any of them. They were, after all, about to do battle with the most powerful wizard that ever lived.
* * * *
The scent of early spring filled the air as Ethan and Talina strolled along a narrow earthen trail in the warm sunshine. Two days they had taken a bus from Dublin to the town of Clonmel and following a brief stop to book a room at a local hotel, they had immediately set out to explore the area.
The mountains of Comeragh stretched out far before them and Talina had remained quiet for most of the time they had been there as her reddish brown eyes continuously squinted at the green earth, “Their magic is everywhere,” she gasped as she blinked against the glow of Fairy dust that only her eyes could see.
She abruptly departed from the footpath and set out across the swathe of green before her, causing Ethan to halt and call out in surprise, “Where are you going?”
“The trail of magic is the strongest this way,” she replied, not turning around to glance at him.
He stared down at the map in his hands and saw that she seemed to be heading towards a place known as the Mahon Falls. They soon found themselves crossing the Mahon Bridge as and reached a carved light grey boulder that had the engraved words ‘Magic Road’ written upon it. A further one hundred metres ahead was a similar smaller engraved stone with the same words written upon it. Talina halted and remained staring at it as Ethan approached her from behind and saw that she was crying, “What’s the matter?” he asked softly as he placed a concerned hand upon her shoulder.
“Evil men cut down the tree that was the home of where the Fae people lived here,” she sobbed, “they have caused much pain.”
“Do the Fae still live here?” Ethan asked softly.
Talina nodded slowly and pointed up towards the mountain, “What is left of them can be found there.”
Without speaking further, they headed past the fabled place where tourists in their cars could, according to local legend, leave their cars in neutral to find that they would reverse uphill. Talina knew that this was not due to an optical illusion or magnetic field but was true of what some others believed, due to the anger of the Fairies against the humans. It was against the nature of the Fairies to do harm, but their message was clear, humans were not wanted.
The two companions slowly picked their way up towards the falls, passing a number of enormous grey boulders and scraggy brown and green grasses as they did so. Still they went higher, until they reached the very top of the falls. There, they found cascades of pure white water that fell upon the rocky face of the uppermost falls that fed into a dark and mysterious looking pool of water. They stood there for some time staring at it as they admired its beauty then Talina spoke, “Give me your hand,” she said softly as reached out to him.
Without speaking he did as he was bid and they moved with their hands clasped together towards the edge of the pool. A gentle mist surrounded them, concealing most of the rocky terrain, although the air was clear above the dark expanse of water. Minutes passed and they stood there in silence as Ethan felt each beat of his heart warm the Talisman that he held around his neck. Alexon also remained still and silent inside him, as if sensing that they were being closely watched.
“They are afraid to reveal themselves to us,” Talina whispered, “too many years have passed and too much pain has been caused by the humans of this world.”
Ethan was not sure if he had imagined it, but there was a discernibly hard edge to her voice when she spoke about his people. He sighed and eased himself forward slightly to peer more deeply into the dark water as he felt his spirit ring around his finger become discernibly warmer.
Suddenly an eerie silence descended. The waters no longer fell upon the grey stone of the waterfall. The birds no longer sang and the wind no longer gently caressed their faces. It was as if all time had stopped.
“What do you want from us?”whispered a thousand tiny voices in unison.
“We need your help,” replied Talina who squeezed Ethan’s hand even more tightly, “this human and I, Princess Talina of the Wood Nymphs, ask that you guide us towards the treasure of the Tuatha Dé Danann that can help us to enact the ‘second seal’ and save both our worlds from the apocalypse.”
Yet more time passed as angry whispers filled the air. Ethan felt his legs grow heavy and was surprised to find both himself and Talina now kneeling down upon the edge of the pool as its dark waters seemed to grow in size. Visions of suffering filled his mind, of Fae children fleeing in fear as violence was enacted upon them and their homes were destroyed by the humans and with these images, came a deep sense of shame.
“Please forgive us,” he whispered as he felt his spirit ring move inside him, “my people have caused you great harm, but Alexon will tell you that we come in peace.”
The whispers suddenly stopped. He felt himself rise from the ground and his clothing become wet as he entered the water. Somewhere behind him he heard Talina call out his name in fear as her grip upon his hand was lost. Then, he found himself inside the water. A part of him knew that he was drowning as all the colours of the world began to fade away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Dwarf yelled a battle cry as he ran towards the troll then promptly crashed towards the earth. He struggled to get up, only to find that his legs had become entrapped by the chords of a bola. The large rope-like weapon that had weights attached to both ends of it had wrapped itself tightly around him, trussing him up like a deer as the thundered towards him with its axe raised. At the sight of his friend’s plight, Gizurr gave a yell and threw a rock hard at the creature’s face. The small stone caused it no particular harm, but it served to distract it for long enough to enable Ragni to roll inside a clump of spiked shrubbery.
At the sudden disappearance of its prey, the troll turned in rage towards Gizurr but at that very moment, the rest of the companions burst through the vegetation to stand beside him. Although not especially bright, the troll momentarily hesitated as it blinked at the group.
Then it charged.
It moved towards them at a pace that caught them by surprise as it swung its battle axe in a series of sweeping arcs. A young Dwarf named Ketill was the first to engage with it and had his weapon swatted out of his hands as if it was a mere toothpick. Still, it came on, its massive bulk hurtling forwards with a force that scattered the companions. All that is, except one.
Vank dug his claws deep into the earth and lowered his head, aiming the steel spike that protruded from the centre of his helmet directly at the troll’s chest. The creature saw the weapon an
d realised that it was heading directly towards it, but it had already reached a forward momentum that proved impossible for it to stop or swerve away in time. The troll gave a brief scream as it pierced into its chest and out through its back, before its eyes glazed and body grew limp.
“Good riddance,” panted Gizurr as he wiped away the sweat from his face with his sleeve.
Vank snorted in disgust as he pushed its lifeless corpse away, causing it to crumple upon the ground in a heap. The companions gathered round to look at the curious creature. Both its clothing and jewellery indicated that it had lived a violent life. Dried bones, teeth, hair and various other macabre items had been placed around its neck as a form of hideous decoration. Its garments were similarly disturbing, consisting of a patchwork of various items, most likely stripped from the dead bodies of its prey.
After an initial search of the surrounding area, they found a bag. Inside it, amongst the various trinkets and items of unidentifiable food was a lump of black rock. At first glance, it seemed of little interest, but Lady Cillina soon realised that it resembled the same material that had been used to encase the High Dragon. After careful deliberation, Axcil gave his permission for her to take possession of the item and she wrapped it up in a dark cloth and placed it in her travelling bag.
“Would someone mind helping me please?” asked a rustling bush.
“That’ll teach you to go off hunting for game on your own,” Gizurr shouted as he angrily strode towards it.
“Sorry,” Ragni said as his scratched face peeked out from under a crown of thorns.
Axcil walked towards the edge of the clearing, “We need to stay close together at all times,” he paused a moment as his tall frame scanned the vegetation, “this is bandit and slaver country and we may be attacked at any moment.” He turned and walked back towards the sombre looking group. Their horses had been tethered a short distance away and were highly skittish as the scent of the troll’s blood filled the air.
The companions knew that the death of the troll meant that they were most likely to attract further attention, most notably by more of its brethren as their keen sense of smell was notoriously good. Their recent battle also served as a stark reminder that capturing one alive to question it about why the Northern Clans had allied themselves with the Demons would be extremely difficult.
Axcil sighed as his huge broadsword hung limply between his hands, “We have the bait, now we must set the trap.”
“What do you mean?” Ellaminva asked as she turned away from polishing off the blood from Vank’s helmet.
He walked towards her and used the point of his sword to draw an imaginary square upon the ground, “We must dig a pit here, just in front of the troll’s body,” he grimaced, “it must be a good thirty feet deep and have at its base stakes that are just long enough to disable a troll.”
“I can do it,” interjected Vank as he flexed his powerful claws.
Axcil nodded in approval then blinked in anger as Ellaminva placed a restraining hand upon Vank’s shoulder, “If we get the answers we seek, what happens to the injured troll?” her tone indicated that she very much disliked Axcil’s plan.
“We shall set it free,” he replied calmly.
“What if it doesn’t know the answer to your question?” she pressed.
Axcil grew suddenly angry, “Then there will be one less murderous bandit walking the earth won’t there?” he snapped.
“Aye,” agreed Gizurr as he glanced at Ragni’s heavily scratched face, “this isn’t a picnic miss, we are fighting for our lives.”
Ellaminva grimaced but remained silent.
With the help of Vank’s immense strength, the pit was quickly dug within a couple of hours. Gizurr and the other Dwarfs set about to carving stakes from the thickest of branches from the nearby vegetation. They were then planted firmly at the base of the pit by Vank who then rather clumsily evacuated the deep hole by a combination of flapping his wings and clawing at the dirt as he struggled to vacate the deep hole.
Axcil and the Hesparin created a broad latticework of twigs which they camouflaged with the use of grasses and leaves, before placing it over the pit. The cover was deliberately designed to be flimsy, so it would easily give way once stepped upon.
Then they waited.
The hours passed by slowly and the skies began to darken as they remained motionless inside a clump of thick vegetation. Tiny animals rustled through the undergrowth in their pursuit of food and the sudden hoot of an owl signalled that night was upon them. Then they heard it. A distant a crack of a twig that seemed to have been made by something large passing nearby.
A brief rustling of leaves followed then silence descended once more as the even the wildlife seemed to pause to listen. They barely dared to breathe as their hearts began to drum deep inside their chests as their eyes scanned the darkness. Axcil had taken the wise decision to position the group downwind from the pit, they knew that at any moment that the wind could shift direction, but so far, luck had remained with them. A second crack of a twig sounded and then it appeared.
It was huge.
Unlike its predecessor, this troll seemed different and wore a full set of matching armour as it held a gigantic spiked club in its hands. A second creature arrived, again fully armoured and clearly highly agitated. Further rustling to their left revealed that at least a third troll lurked in the dark recesses of the vegetation.
The first troll who seemed to be the leader of the group, took a tentative step towards the lifeless body then halted as its eyes narrowed. It lifted its gaze and seemed to stare directly at where the companions lay hidden. Although Axcil remained confident that their presence had so far been undetected, it was clear that the troll was aware that something was amiss.
After a brief pause, it slowly began to retreat back into the vegetation. A sudden shift in the wind changed everything. In the space of a few seconds, it was as if the fates had decided that there would be a reckoning that night. It was then that the companions realized that they were surrounded. Not just three, but five trolls quickly descended upon them from all sides. The first troll was swiftly disabled as it fell crashing into the pit but a second suddenly appeared out from behind a large tree.
With a deftness that belied its huge armoured frame, it leapt into the heart of the thicket where the companions lay and swiftly cleaved in two one of the human males, causing a wave of blood to splatter everywhere. As they attempted to struggle to their feet, it claimed another victim, a young Dwarf named Bersi who was killed instantly. Still it continued onwards, cleaving and hacking at the group as body parts began to fly, then came an almighty roar.
Vank thundered through the shrubbery and exhaled a vast orange flame that set the creature alight. It screamed in pain as its entire body became enveloped in fire, only to have the sound swiftly silenced as Vank clenched his jaws around its neck and tore out its throat.
The final three remaining trolls slowed at the sight of the dragon. The troll leader grunted a brief guttural command to its companions. Then they charged. The first creature swerved sharply to Vank’s left, in an attempt to outflank him as the leader and the other troll came at him head on. But he was not alone. Seeing what was about to happen, Axcil and the others stepped into the fray.
Ellaminva focussed her attack upon the troll that had attempted to reach Vank’s side and let loose an arrow towards its open mouth. It lurched to a halt as its hands reached towards the arrow lodged in the back of its throat as it began to choke on its own blood. A second arrow was swiftly loosed into its exposed neck, bringing the creature quickly to the ground.
Axcil and the others darted forward to meet the final two head on. At what seemed to be the very last moment, he rolled onto the ground, tripping the first troll as it came crashing to the ground. He leapt to his feet as the heavily armoured troll struggled to regain its footing and rammed his sword into the base of its neck, just beneath its helmet as it slumped forward, its body twitching momentarily before
remaining still.
The final troll had reached its goal and swung its spiked club at Vank as he released another blanket of fire. The flames briefly singed its shoulder but it sprang to his right side, swinging its weapon that clanged harmlessly against his dragon armour. Out of pure instinct, Vank whipped forward his powerful tail that housed a serrated club-like weapon at its base, killing the creature instantly.
The sight of blood and death was everywhere. Lady Cillina ran to the body of a Dwarf, only to find that his eyes were open and lifeless. In all, three Dwarves and two human lay slain. Axcil paced the ground in anger. He had not considered the possibility that they would be met by group of trolls, thinking that they would trap another solitary bandit. Instead, they had clearly attracted a highly armed and organised group who were most likely to have been slavers.
“It’s not your fault,” Ellaminva said, sensing his feeling of guilt at the current carnage that surrounded them.
Axcil shook his head, “I should have known better than to have done this. Now there is blood on my hands.”
A groan emanated from deep inside the pit. It was the last surviving troll that lay injured and trapped upon the short stakes at its base. For a brief moment, Axcil felt a strong urge to jump inside the trap and kill it, but he knew that an injured troll would still be highly dangerous. Besides, it was not in his nature to commit such an act and if he did, the deaths of the others would have been in vain. He was not sure how badly it had been injured, so time was of the essence to question it in case it was close to death.
