“Finn?” Raine asked.
Gertie nodded. “The boy grew quickly, and by the time he was eleven years old, he was taller and broader of shoulder than most men. He was a fine-looking lad.” The troll’s gaze rested briefly on Mauric’s handsome face. “He was also talented. Magic ran deep in him and, as there were no other adepts among his people, what little magic he learned, he taught himself.”
“Carlo the Combustible,” Raine said with a shudder.
“Yes, though Finn never blew himself up, thank the gods. None of the men claimed this strange boy as their son. Although there were whispers, no one was bold enough to question the boy’s parentage to his face. You see, in addition to his impressive size and magical ability, the boy was a fierce warrior gifted with the sword, the bow, and the sling.
“One day while hunting in the forest, the boy happened upon three men having a fine time torturing a troll. The boy, like most humans, had no love of monsters, but he had a code of honor, and it angered him that the men had taken advantage of the troll while she was drunk. He considered this unsporting and challenged the men, killing them. Then he did something truly remarkable.”
“What?” Raine asked, absorbed in the story.
“He stayed to care for the troll, binding her wounds and bringing her rabbits and squirrels until she was strong enough to hunt for herself.” Gertie’s golden eyes gleamed. “This was no ordinary troll. She was a kolyagga, a troll adept.”
“Like Gertie,” Mauric said, inspecting the dagger he carried in his boot.
“The troll could see at a glance that this was no ordinary boy,” Gertie said, “and she agreed to instruct him in magic. The two of them spent the next two years together, hunting and fishing, and practicing magic. Soon, under the troll’s watchful eye, the boy began to learn and excel, particularly in the art of shape-shifting.”
“For the first time in his life, Finn had someone to confide in, a friend who understood his magical talent and wasn’t intimidated by his size and strength. But although he was happy wandering the hills and forests with the troll, the plight of his mother’s people troubled him still. One day, when he was thirteen, Finn went to the troll with a proposition.
“‘My people cry out for a god,’ he told her. ‘Help me challenge a god on their behalf. If I succeed, you have my word that I will protect the trolls from this day forward, and my people after me.’
“The troll mulled this over. ‘Challenge a god, eh? If you must do such a foolish thing, better make it Trowyn,’ she told him. ‘He’s a warrior like you and not a bad sort, as gods go.’
“‘You will help me?’ Finn asked.
“The troll nodded. ‘Aye, but with one condition. You and your people must vow to protect all of Kron’s creatures, not just the trolls. The monsters dwindle and soon will be no more.’
“Now, privately, Finn considered a world without monsters a very good thing, but he kept this thought to himself. Aloud, he said, ‘If a monster attacks one of us, are we forbidden by our vow to protect ourselves?’
“The troll shook her head. ‘The monsters will be bound by the oath as well. Any monster that attacks you or one of your people without provocation may be slain with impunity.’
“‘Done,’ Finn agreed.”
“And so the bargain was made,” Mauric said in a loud voice, startling Raine.
“Stone to those who break it,” the sailors chanted in response, and rattled their swords.
Gertie growled in irritation. Murmuring in apology, the men sheathed their swords.
“It was now five hundred years since Magog had murdered his twin and descended into madness, a long time in the eyes of ordinary men, but the blink of an eye to the gods, and Trowyn’s grief for his slain brother was still fresh. The troll knew if the deed was to be done, it would be by trickery.”
“You keep calling her ‘the troll,’” said Raine. “She had a name, didn’t she?”
“Her name is not important.” Gertie scratched one of her ears. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The troll was about to tell Finn how to best Trowyn.”
“‘Trowyn has always preferred his own company,’ she told Finn, ‘but Xan’s death has made him surly and bitter. He wanders the mountains in the guise of a bear, but mostly he hibernates, escaping his sorrow in sleep.’
“They made their plans, and the troll led the boy high into the mountains, reaching the god’s lair at dawn. From deep inside the cave, there came a fearsome rumbling that rattled the very bones of the mountain, and for the first time in his life, the boy knew fear.
“‘There’s no shame in turning back,’ the troll said, seeing the boy quake. ‘Grown men fear the gods, and you are but a boy.’
“The boy squared his shoulders. ‘Nay, I would see the thing through.’
“‘Then here is what you must do.’
“The troll whispered long into the boy’s ear, and he listened. Dropping his pack, he took the shape of a young bear. Then they waited, the beast and the troll.
“And waited.
“And waited.
“Finally, the sun began to rise. A single shaft of sunlight burst over the mountains, piercing the dark opening of the cave, and the troll cried, ‘Now.’
“The boy cast the shape of a shadow bear on the wall of the cave and roared out a challenge. The sound was greatly magnified by the troll’s magic. Deep in his lair, the Bear God slept, dreaming of the warm sun on his fur and salmon leaping in a high mountain stream. At the young bear’s defiant bellow, he woke and left the cave in a killing rage. Lifting his shaggy head, the Bear God roared back, sending boulders bouncing down the mountainside, but there was no answer. Groggy from his long sleep and half blinded by the morning sun, the bear blinked and looked around for the interloper, but he was alone on the mountain, except for a human stripling—Finn having cast aside his bear shape—and a troll.
“The boy beheld the Bear God and marveled at his own temerity. Trowyn was enormous, with paws bigger than a full-grown man, teeth like swords, and breath so hot it would melt Sethlaran steel. The Bear God ignored Finn and raised his paw to smite the troll, for the god held her kind in avid dislike.
“‘Leave her alone,’ the boy shouted, throwing himself in front of the troll, heedless of the danger. ‘It is I who disturbed your rest.’
“Puzzled, the Bear God stayed his paw and stared at the insignificant creature before him. The boy, though obviously afraid, held his ground, and this was pleasing to the god.
“‘What do you want, boy?’ the Bear God demanded in a voice like a tempest.
“The boy answered, his voice shaking a little. ‘A challenge, Great Lord. If I lose, my life is forfeit. If I win, you must grant me my heart’s desire.’
“‘Who are you, cur, to challenge me?’ Trowyn sneered. ‘Kings and great warriors have fallen before me. What hope has a scruff of a boy?’
“Stung, the boy lifted his chin. ‘Accept my challenge, if you would know, great god, and we shall see what we shall see.’
“The god’s interest was aroused, although he would not admit it. Feigning boredom, he drawled, ‘Tell me, then, boy. What is the nature of your challenge?’
“‘Three tasks. A race, a contest at arms, a-and a wondrous feat,’ the boy said, stammering a little.
“‘A wondrous feat from you?’ The god was amused. ‘You make me laugh.’
“‘Of course, if you are afraid . . .’ The boy shrugged and turned away.
“‘Afraid?’ Trowyn bellowed. ‘Of you? Insolent pup, tell me of this contest.’
“The boy grinned, pleased to have captured the god’s interest. ‘The rules are simple. If I best you, you must give me what I desire. If you win, I die.’
“‘Who determines the tasks?’ the god asked, suspicious.
“‘I do, of course,’ the boy said. ‘I am young, not stupid.’
“‘That remains to be seen. Many would say you play a fool’s game by coming here. What is your name, boy?’
“The lad straightened his shoulders. ‘I am called Finn the Fearless.’
“The bear chuckled. ‘Finn the Feeble-minded or Finn the Cocksure, more likely.’ High time he struck the fear of the gods into this runtling, Trowyn decided. ‘Well, Finn, when I win this contest—and I will win, you may depend upon it—you will forfeit not only your life, but your soul. The bowels of Skelf will seem a paradise next to the tortures you will endure.’
“The boy put on a brave front, but he was afraid. ‘I understand.’
“The bear sat back on his haunches. “Name your first challenge, upstart.’
“The troll spoke for the first time. ‘The first task is a race,’ she said, pointing to a line of white boulders that dotted the ridge in the distance. ‘From the fork of the Shara River and back again, some eight hundred leagues in distance. The first one to reach the white stones is the winner. Name your champion, Trowyn.’
“Intrigued, Trowyn abandoned his bear shape for human form, becoming a great barrel-chested man with fiery red hair and glittering black eyes. He grinned, displaying large white teeth. He was enjoying himself for the first time in years. He whistled, and a golden hound loped over the hill. ’Twas Raskfar, the messenger hound of the gods, formless as shadow and quick as the wind. Huge as a war horse with a broad chest to hold his powerful lungs, a narrow body, and legs built for speed, Raskfar danced lightly before Trowyn, his dainty feet not touching the ground. He was ever eager for a race, and he never lost.
“In a wink, the boy changed himself into a silver rabbit. An instant later, a silver horn appeared in Trowyn’s hand. Placing the horn to his lips, the god blew a long note and the race began.
“Quick as lightning, Raskfar raced away and disappeared over the horizon. The rabbit, to Trowyn’s surprise, hopped away to nibble on a blade of grass.
“‘What’s the matter with the stupid creature?’ Trowyn demanded, staring at the rabbit in disgust.
“‘He’s giving your dog a head start,’ the troll said. ‘“Otherwise, you see, it wouldn’t be a fair race.’
“‘Fair race? ’Tis no race,” the god said, tearing at his beard. ‘Your beast is munching on clover.’
“A glimmer of gold appeared on the horizon—Raskfar returning.
“Trowyn turned away in disgust, his interest in the race and the boy gone. ‘It is done. The rabbit has no hope of besting him now.’
“The golden dog crested the hill and raced toward the line of white stones.
“‘Now,’ the troll shouted. ‘The rabbit twitched its nose and was off, flashing across the mountains and the plains to the fork in the Shara and back again. As Raskfar loped toward the end of the course, his dainty feet skimming over the ground, a blur of silver streaked past. The hare crossed the finish line first, winning the race.
“‘We won, we won,’ the troll shouted, shuffling her paws in a victory dance.
“Abandoning the rabbit’s shape, the boy ran down the hill and leapt on the troll’s broad back with a whoop of delight. He and the troll capered for joy. Raskfar, disgraced, slunk down the hill and crept behind his master, his tail between his legs.
“Trowyn watched them celebrate, defeat lodged in his throat like shards of glass.
“Raskfar has lost,’ he said, tearing at his beard. ‘Had I not seen it with mine own eyes, I would not have credited it. You have won the first challenge, oh most repellent of boys.’”
Chapter 41
Troll Feet
Gertie paused and looked around. “Storytelling is thirsty work. Someone fetch me a drink.”
Mauric rose and brought Gertie a flagon of ale. The troll drained the cup and belched. She wiped the foam from her black lips with the back of her paw. “Now, where was I?”
“The second task,” Raine said, eager to hear the rest of the story.
“Ah, yes,” Gertie said. “Trowyn glowered at the boy. ‘Name the second task.’
“‘A contest at arms.’ Retrieving his slingshot from his pack, Finn tossed a rock into the air and caught it. ‘I am good with a sling. Let us see who can throw a stone farther, the scruff or the god.’
“Trowyn was amazed by Finn’s effrontery. The boy dared to taunt him? He would teach the whelp some manners. And when he’d finished teaching the boy a lesson, he’d deal with the troll, for he bore her no love.
“Trowyn looked around, but the troll had disappeared. No doubt she realized the boy had no hope of besting him twice, and had slipped away to save her own worthless hide. Trowyn’s pleasure was dimmed. He wanted the troll at the young cockerel’s side when he received his comeuppance. She was fond of the lad—that was plain to see. ’Twould hurt her to see him punished. Good. He wanted her to suffer. But first, he would defeat the young pipsqueak at the second task.
‘I will teach you to play with the gods, Finn the Fanciful,’ Trowyn said, and pulling up a mountain by the roots, he tossed it as a child flings a pebble.
“The mountain hurtled through the air, shedding boulders and trees as it flew, and landed in a valley more than twenty leagues away. The impact gouged a lake where once a peaceful river had run.
“Trowyn rubbed his hands together in glee. ‘Beat that, if you can, boy.’
“He glanced at the boy, fully expecting to see him dismayed, but the boy seemed unperturbed.
“‘A fair toss,’ Finn acknowledged, eyeing the plume of dirt, steam, and shattered rock that darkened the sky where the mountain had fallen. ‘But I can do better.’
“He bent and made a show of examining the stones on the ground. At last, he selected a smooth red rock and carefully placed the stone in his leather sling.
“‘Stop dawdling, boy,’ the god said, growing impatient. ‘It’s a rock, not an egg. Throw the thing and be done.’
“The boy twirled the sling once, twice, three times around his head and released it. The rock soared through the air.
“Finn cupped one hand over his eyes against the glare of the sun. ‘Can you see it?’ he asked.
“Trowyn’s vision was exceedingly sharp. ‘There it is,’ he said, not believing his own eyes. ‘Your rock has soared over the mountains and approaches my new lake.’ He ground his teeth in frustration. ‘It skims over the water without slowing. ’Tis as though the cursed thing has wings.’
“Finn’s rock came to rest several leagues beyond the spot where Trowyn’s mountain had landed.
“The god gnashed his teeth in fury. With a sweep of his hand, he destroyed mountains and uprooted trees, flinging them about like so much straw. The boy recognized the danger, and hid. When at last, the god’s fury was spent, Finn crept from his hiding place and seated himself on a boulder. The troll also reappeared, and lolled on the rock beside the boy.
“‘Skilled with the sling, you say?’ Trowyn’s breath steamed, and black lightning shot from his eyes, scorching the earth around them. ‘’Twould seem you have bested me a second time, most revolting of boys. We have arrived at the third and final task. I would see this wondrous feat of yours.’
“The boy drummed the back of his heels on the rock and gave the god a sly look. ‘Fear not, Great Bear God, for I will well and truly amaze you.’
“The god crossed his arms on his massive chest. ‘Perceive me, Sir Impudence, for I await your next marvel.’
“Finn jumped down and pointed to the ground. ‘I can stand with one foot on this mountain and the other foot in the Kalder Sea at the same time. Can you do likewise?’
“Trowyn smiled. ‘Watch and learn, odious tadling.’ With that, the god began to grow.
“He shot upward until he towered over the mountains and his head and shoulders were lost in the clouds. His enormous shadow fell over the land, and the world was covered in darkness. The birds became confused and sought
their nests, thinking that night had fallen. Insects came out, humming and chirping. Foxes and owls and other predators of the night awoke, thinking it time to hunt. Deer left their hiding places and came out to feed. Finn looked up. The two moons, Una and Petrarr, were clearly visible in the sky. The stars in the heavens formed a crown around Trowyn’s head. With a tremendous grinding and shifting of joints and bones, the god lifted one enormous leg and splashed his right foot into the Kalder Sea, many leagues to the south. The resulting shock caused a tidal wave that rocked villages up and down the coastline. Trowyn’s left foot remained on the mountain beside Finn.
“The god bent down to speak to Finn, his hip bones creaking like trees in a storm.
“‘Join me, if you can, Finn the Foolish,’ he taunted in a voice like thunder. ‘The air is thin, but the view is fine. We’ll toss the stars back and forth, you and I, and kick the moons about the sky.’
“Finn put his hands on his hips and laughed up at the god. ‘Perhaps another day, Oh Mighty Bear God. I’ve wonders to perform.’
“The troll handed Finn his pack. Perplexed, Trowyn watched the boy remove a wooden bowl and a leather flask and set them on the ground. Unable to contain his curiosity, the god shrank to normal size to have a better look.
“‘What are you doing with that old bowl and flask?’ he asked with more than a touch of impatience.
“‘What I said I would do, of course,’ Finn replied.
“Without further ado, Finn pulled the cork out of the wine flask and filled the wooden dish with liquid.
“‘Water from the Kalder Sea,’ the boy declared, sticking one foot in the bowl of water, sandal and all. The other foot he left firmly planted on the mountain side. Finn made a sweeping bow and addressed the god, ‘Behold, great Bear God. I stand with one foot in the ocean and one foot on the mountain, as I said I would.’
A Meddle of Wizards Page 37
