The Sleeping King

by Cindy Dees

  Raina rummaged around at Rosana’s hip and emerged with a roll of white cloth. All the while, Eben moaned in agony. The sound was terrible to hear. Will watched the two healers work in grim silence for several minutes.

  Then Raina announced, “I think we have another problem.”

  “Beyond his arm being ripped off?” Rosana echoed in dismay.

  Will lurched. He moved to stare around Rosana and, sure enough, there was only a heavily wrapped stump where Eben’s right arm should be. He shuddered, nauseated at the gruesome sight.

  “Smell his breath,” Raina said.

  Rosana sniffed and then sucked in a sharp breath of her own. “What is that?”

  “Plague. Magical and powerful,” Raina said low.

  “What does that mean?” Cicero asked tersely.

  “The wolf’s bite was diseased. Eben will die by degrees over the next few hours or days.”

  “But you can cure disease, can’t you?” he demanded of Raina.

  “When I have magic, I can.” She stared down at Eben, who was writhing in mindless agony beneath Sha’Li’s restraining hands. “But I don’t know if I could cure that. It’s empowered magic. Very nasty stuff. It would likely take a ritual to fix. And yes, I know how to cast the ritual, but I don’t carry around the scrolls or components for such things.”

  Will grimaced. Cicero’s words from before they entered this place a lifetime ago echoed through his head again. One of us must live to reach the king. The true meaning of that phrase struck Will now like a physical blow. Was this really worth it? Eben was horribly maimed and dying. Who would be next?

  He looked up at the door in hatred. Why did it have to be him to do this thing? Why all of them?

  He opened his mouth to tell the others they should turn around and go back. Find a cure for Eben. Leave this madness and be safe. He would go on alone. But just then Sha’Li cracked open the circular door. As she did so the lighted circle behind them, the one containing and restraining the two-headed dire wolf, blinked out of existence. With a vicious snarl the beast charged straight toward them.

  * * *

  Anton wanted nothing more than to roar in fury and frustration, but to do so would call down more of those twice-cursed orcs upon him and his men. It had to be here, somewhere close by, whatever it was the Boki guarded so fiercely and his enemies coveted so greatly. The concentration of orcs was growing steadily greater and the fight the greenskins were putting up growing steadily more desperate. Oh yes. He was very close indeed to their treasure.

  But there was one monumental problem with that. If he wanted to be the first to lay his hands on it, he was going to have to move to the front lines and actually lead his men. In the point position. Where it was dangerous. He might be lethal throwing his gas poisons, but he could only deliver one at a time. If several orcs attacked him simultaneously from close range, he was dead.

  Something rustled just ahead and he froze, his heart pounding like a smith’s hammer. The only thing he hated more than being afraid was being deathly afraid. Something grabbed his right elbow from behind and he jumped straight up in the air. He realized only belatedly that it was just Krugar. Snickers erupted and then abruptly cut off behind him. Whoresons. He glared daggers at Krugar’s men, daring the next one to make a peep and live.

  “My lord, I smell Boki,” Krugar announced. His nose wrinkled in distaste. “And they stink of fear.”

  An anonymous voice muttered, “Ain’t no Boki stinkin’ like ’at. ’Twere our guv—”

  Anton whipped around. “Who speaks?” he hissed.

  Guilty—and fearful—silence hung thick in the air of a sudden. He glared at Krugar. “Pick one of your men at random and kill him.”

  Krugar nodded impassively, his expression stony. He turned and gave his men a long, assessing look. His gaze settled on one of the soldiers near the back of the line. Krugar stepped forward, sword raised.

  “I didn’t say it!” the soldier exclaimed. “It was ’im!” The soldier pointed at one of his comrades.

  Without breaking stride Krugar continued forward, merely changing his target. His sword swung in a fast, deadly arc. It sliced neatly through the culprit’s neck at a shallow downward angle. Anton watched in detached fascination as the head, still upright, slid off the neck and then tumbled to the ground, rolling to land at his feet. Blood spouted everywhere, drenching his boots in hot, sticky fluid. Shock registered in the single eye staring up at him.

  Krugar remarked dryly, “Apologies, my lord. It was a clumsy blow to send the head and blood in your direction.” Krugar snapped an order over his shoulder, “Remove the corpse from the governor’s sight!”

  Distaste for the messiness of all of this rolled over Anton. He preferred to pull unseen strings and manipulate his subjects from afar. Dirt and blood and sweat were so … messy. It was all well and good to quash unrest, but this was too direct for his taste. Maximillian was thinking too small with his whole “stop any rebellion before it starts” mentality. Better to let a little upheaval unfold, and all the more profit to be had in crushing it.

  Why merely stamp out a nascent rebellion when a person could give it a little rein and let the instigators draw out other rebellion-minded people into the open? Better to let a few more fish swim into the net before yanking it out of the water.

  Besides, if there were reports of unrest brewing in the colonies he could claim a need for more resources to fight it. More gold to line his pockets. And if he heroically stopped a rebellion on behalf of the Empire he might even win enough status and goodwill from Maximillian to earn a higher noble title. He nodded in satisfaction. It was a much better plan than merely finding and killing local instigators, now.

  And in the meantime, he was going to find the secret Boki treasure and not report a single copper of it to the Emperor. Too bad Aurelius and his faithful lapdog, Tiberius De’Vir, weren’t here to lead him straight to the treasure like they had the last time.

  A twig snapped nearby and he whirled, fist cocked back, poised to throw the gas globe in his hand. Krugar and his troops whirled as well, weapons at the ready. They waited for long seconds for a horde of Boki to burst out upon them, but nothing moved.

  Anton lowered his trembling hand, realizing in alarm that he’d been clutching the gas globe so tightly he could’ve accidentally broken it and released the instant death gas poison within it upon himself.

  Gads, but he hated all of this being one with nature. He hated creeping around in the dark. He hated being drenched in cold sweat. He hated whoresons who thought to beat him to his treasure and take it for themselves. And most of all, he hated orcs. When he found their cursed treasure and took it for himself he was going to send an army into these woods to annihilate every last one of the greenskins.

  And then, let rebellion come.

  But first, the treasure.

  * * *

  “Go, go, go!” Will yelled at the others as he and Cicero dived for Eben to throw him through the doorway. They leaped through the portal and the three girls were already throwing their combined weight against it, hauling it ponderously shut.

  The great metal latches clanged into place just as something huge and furious slammed into the other side of the wooden panels. The door shuddered but held against the weight of the great wolf. “Praise the Lady,” Will panted. “That was close.”

  “Uhh, Will?” Rosana muttered. “We may have a small problem on this side of the door.”

  He straightened from Eben’s prostrate form and looked around quickly. A thin mist hung in the air, and wherever this place was, it was daylight bright. How that could happen underground he knew not. And then he spied what alarmed Rosana. A gigantic, green hulk was advancing toward them menacingly through the fog.

  The hulk stood thrice as high as a man, moved upright on two legs, and had a massively thick, powerful torso. The creature appeared to have four arms, all of which brandished weapons. The beast was hideously ugly. He had green, bumpy skin, but a deeper, clearer
shade of true green than the orcs, who tended to muddy and yellow tones. He had tusks as well, bigger and more of them than an orc. His facial features were heavier and less humanoid than the Boki’s. He wore a loincloth, a belt, a necklace, and a crude headband of some sort.

  “What is it?” Raina breathed in dismayed awe.

  “Troll,” Cicero bit out. “Big one.”

  And without Eben, they were down a critical warrior to take on such a creature. Will swore under his breath. Would this nightmare never end? He looked around fast. No apparent obstacles. Even footing on level ground. No cover that he could see.

  Sha’Li said low, “If behind him I can go, more effective I shall be.”

  Cicero nodded. “We’ll distract him for you. C’mon, Will. Let’s go beat us up a troll. He won’t be fast, but he’ll be strong. Really strong.”

  “Right. No problem. That thing’s huge.” Maybe we could annoy him to death.

  The kindari shrugged. “It’s us or him. As for me, I’d rather live.”

  Cicero was right. No sense moaning about the inevitable. They were going to have to defeat this beast or die trying. Will reached for the sword he’d picked out of Raina’s hands earlier but, eyeing the beast’s tough hide, thought better of it. A blade would not give Will any great advantage against this mountain of gristle.

  Not that a staff would fare any better. But at least he might be able to channel a little magical damage if he got lucky. If only he fully understood how he’d used the staff that night in Hickory Hollow to channel magical damage and could call it forth on command! Aurelius had talked a lot of theory at him about intent and concentration, but he’d had precious little real experience with channeling magic.

  He took up the old threshing stance Ty had drilled into him over the years that gave him the best balance on his feet.

  The beast roared something incoherent that sounded like a trollish insult and charged. Cicero slid over to take on the two left-side arms while Will slid to the right.

  Raina crouched protectively over Eben, although Will doubted she could do anything to protect the jann other than use her body as a shield. Rosana planted herself in front of Raina, a short sword in her left hand and magic glowing in her right.

  “Save your power for healing!” Will called to her as he moved closer to the pair of troll arms.

  At least the creature had only one head. Mayhap the three of them could take turns attacking when his attention was distracted elsewhere.

  For her part, Sha’Li eased off to one side unobtrusively. There were no physical objects for her to use for cover, though, and the bright white mist did nothing to conceal her black form. It would fall to Will and Cicero to keep the troll’s attention entirely on them while she positioned herself for a back attack.

  To that end, Will shouted a stream of insults as he charged forward to engage the beast. He ducked the troll’s first weapon, a club ponderously swung at him, and raised his staff to meet the second weapon, a hybrid axe with a long, narrow blade that lay close to the shaft for nearly half its length. No tree cutter, this axe. It was purely a weapon for killing.

  The murderous blade shaved a thin curl of wood off Will’s staff below the metal-clad part as it sliced down the length of his weapon. The power behind the blow nearly swept Will off his feet. Had he not deflected it down his staff’s length like that, he’d have been thrown a dozen feet or more.

  Cicero grunted from nearby. This creature had to be four or five times as strong as a man. No way would they be able to defeat him by brute force. Panic began to vibrate in Will’s gut. And with it came magic. It crackled through his fingers and down the shaft of his staff in golden bolts of energy.

  The next swing of the troll’s mighty club passed by, and Will lunged in close behind it, jabbing the tip of his staff at the troll’s hip. Will connected with the solid wall of flesh, and the force damage crackled off the staff and into the beast. The troll lurched in surprise and gave a roar of fury.

  Sha’Li jumped onto the beast’s back and stood on the troll’s belt while she raked the back of his head with her right claw. The troll spun around to face his new threat. He nearly threw off Sha’Li, but she clung tenaciously to the monster’s back.

  Will darted in to pummel the beast’s ankle, knee, and ribs, anywhere bones might rest close below the surface of his hide.

  Cicero leaped in as well and took a swipe at the beast’s hamstrings with his sword, and the troll’s leg partially collapsed. He staggered and took a backward swipe with his lower arm that forced Cicero to jump back with all the speed and agility the elf had.

  Will walloped the knee before him with his staff, willing magical energy into the blow as well. Only a weak bolt of golden energy flowed down the staff, but it was enough to make the troll howl. Will was appalled as he darted backward to see the wound left by Cicero’s sword already healing over.

  Rosana called out frantically, “He spontaneously heals himself! We must figure out what flavor of magic will kill him!”

  As if they had multiple flavors of magic to choose from. They had Will’s force magic and Rosana’s curse magic. Period. He caught sight of Sha’Li drawing her claw back and taking a big swing at the beast’s neck. Her blade appeared to bounce off the beast’s hide, but it caught the troll’s necklace of teeth, claws, ears, fingers, and various other body parts from Will knew not what.

  The necklace clattered to the ground, and as it did so Will noticed something odd. It was as if the troll’s facial features became slightly less distinct.

  “Did you see that?” Raina cried out.

  “Yeah,” Will grunted as that cursed club swung at him yet again. He dodged, but the troll adjusted his strike at the last minute and Will took a glancing blow on his left shoulder. It spun him all the way around and he staggered, trying desperately not to fall.

  Raina cried out, “I think his spirit is tied to his items! Remove his clothing and weapons and you may weaken him!”

  Rosana interjected quickly, “Can we leave the loincloth on him?”

  Will’s humor faded as the beast half-turned toward Will to follow up on his advantage, and Cicero lunged in to stab at the beast’s momentarily unguarded side. The blade lopped a few pouches off the troll’s belt, but did no other damage.

  And yet the color of the troll’s skin faded somewhat and the wartish bumps upon him diminished in prominence. Raina’s theory seemed true.

  Will and Cicero darted in and out frantically trying to remove other clothing and personal items, but the troll seemed to have caught on to their tactic.

  “What’s happening?” Sha’Li hissed from her perch on the troll’s back.

  Raina replied urgently, “He’s fading whenever he loses his stuff. Can you cut his clothing off from where you are?”

  “Easier said…” Sha’Li ducked the wicked axe blade the troll winged over his back at her. It skimmed down her scaled back harmlessly. “… than done.”

  Frustration coursed through Will. If only he could shape his magic into something truly powerful. But Ty had never deigned to teach Will how to do any real battle magic spells, or perhaps never dared. In his anger at his own failings, he became aware of more golden energy dancing down his staff. Huh. Was it somehow tied to his emotions? He had no more time to consider it as the troll’s battle-axe whooshed toward him.

  Will threw up his staff to meet the blow wishing with all his being that he could disarm the troll of his cursed axe. His staff connected solidly with the axe, and then all but flew out of his hands. His fingers went numb from the force of the blow, but the axe went flying and the troll scrambled after it.

  Cicero and Sha’Li leaped on the troll’s distraction to go after his possessions. Sha’Li knocked the headband off the troll’s head while Cicero sliced at the troll’s belt with his sword. As the accoutrements fell to the ground the troll almost melted before them. He was still a troll, and he still towered many feet over Will’s head, but his features became indistinct. It was as if W
ill looked at a generic representation of a troll and not an actual troll.

  Regardless, the creature still had that giant club and was still swinging it wildly back and forth. Will had to fall flat on his face to avoid the low swing that came at him next. He was so weak and exhausted that jumping back to his feet was more than he could manage. If only the wasting sickness of Bloodroot hadn’t sapped all his strength!

  He looked up in time to see a black, shiny claw come around the troll’s neck from behind and slice across his throat hard and deep. Will expected a gush of blood, but instead a gray, almost gaseous substance spurted from what should be a mortal wound. The troll staggered toward Will and looked to be in grave danger of falling on him. Raina leaped on Will, grabbed his shoulders, and rolled away frantically, dragging him with her as the beast toppled over at their feet.

  “Thanks,” Will panted.

  “No problem,” she panted back.

  Cicero plunged his sword into the beast’s chest and called urgently to Sha’Li, “Get that club out of his hand!”

  The lizardman girl had no sooner knocked the club loose than the troll began to … dissipate. His body turned to smoky wisps and blew away like fog. Will stared in disbelief. He’d felt the blows of that club, the strength in those massively muscled arms … and yet they were disappearing like mist burned off by the morning sun.

  “What the—” Rosana started.

  Eben surprised Will by croaking weakly, “Phantasm.”

  Raina stared at the jann. “That was a dream creature? Does that mean we are in the dream realm?”

  Eben’s gaze shifted to the door and Will’s gaze followed.

  Cicero murmured, “I know that silk. It comes from Vaestros. He is the dream-weaver spider. Scion of Zinn, the Great Spider.”

  Raina moved to the panel and traced the intricate web of lines etched into the wood panels with her fingers. “Then this must be a dream catcher,” she whispered.

  Will had heard of those. His mother used to hang one in the window if she left it open at night. She’d told him it kept phantasms from creeping in and stealing his dreams. He looked back quickly at where the troll had fallen. Phantasms were real? Hearth tales described them as denizens of the dream realm and capable of taking on the appearance of anything or anyone.