by Philip Smith
“The Shahir’s evil hardly represents all men,” Paige retorted.
The elf nodded. “I tend to agree. Six years ago, a young boy was captured by our riders. The elders decided to execute him for the crime of being human. He wasn’t even Sharadhen. His skin was fair like the men who live here in the Wild. I hate the Shahir and his people just as much as any of my brothers, but I knew it would be wrong to slay this boy. He was not to blame for crimes committed by a different human a millennium before he was even born.”
“That’s horrible…”
“I stood up for him, begged for his life, and even offered to buy his freedom. All my words earned me was banishment. The lad was burned at the stake even as they drove me out of the gate.”
He gazed to the westward sun with longing grey eyes.
“So I wander with Dinendale,” he concluded, lightly touching his bow with slender hands, feeling the dark hardwood with his fingertips. “The Brotherhood is my home now.”
Paige smiled at him in pity. She touched the key at her neck, realizing that it was to her what the bow was to Jesnake.
“I know what it’s like to be driven from your home, so I’m sorry that happened to you,” Paige said, touching the elf’s shoulder. The elf smiled and patted her arm reassuringly, then plodded on ahead in silence as they headed deeper into the craggy mountains of the Wild.
Chapter 7 Boggartrolls
The tedious pace of their journey exhausted the group as one day turned to four, each day following the previous in a dull procession. Despite Robert’s assessment that the cold would be upon them with a vengeance by now, the hot sun was hitting them with every ray it had, as if attempting to prove him wrong. As they began to climb the foothills, the cicadas sang their songs in the sweltering air. Paige listened, knowing that soon the winter would silence the bugs for a season.
All of the men had flushed faces and short tempers. Even Duelmaster and Twostaves were cranky for their typically jovial natures. Dinendale was more glare than talk that afternoon, and Paige herself was agitated. The more familiar she became with the men, the more she appreciated them. Yet, as in every relationship, she was discovering their little quirks that grated on her nerves. She was glad when Dinendale called it a day, despite their covering a mere ten miles.
Paige plopped down onto the large root at the foot of a thick oak tree. Her spine ached from the days of backpacking, her leather jerkin felt stiff with sweat, and her hair tangled in its ponytail. A clod of dirt by her right foot held her weary gaze until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and stared blankly into Broadside’s green-blue eyes.
“There is a stream down in the brush to our left. If you want to go wash up a little, the rest of us will wait a while.”
“How on earth could you possibly know that?” Paige moaned.
Broadside looked a little hurt. “I’m a dwarf. Got good hearing and we can feel water in our bones!”
“In your bones? Really?”
“We get all tingly inside when there’s water close by. Helps keep from drowning when we mine deep.”
Papa had often spoken of the dwarves of the northern Baorn Mountains, but she was discovering new and wondrous things about them every time she talked to Broadside. It made sense to her now that she thought about it. Just yesterday, Broadside had mentioned to Jesnake that his left boot sole must be missing some stitches, because the sound of the elf’s stride was uneven. Jesnake had smugly told him to quit showing off, as it was impossible to hear that when walking three people in front of him. When they stopped for a break, however, Jesnake counted the stitches and apologized quietly to Broadside for disbelieving him. Broadside had beamed and rubbed it in all night. Until Jesnake cuffed him, at least.
The black dwarf plopped down on a nearby stump, tipped his conical helm over his eyes, and laced his chubby fingers behind his head. Paige sat up, wincing as the cramps in her calves clawed at the back of her leg like wild cats.
“My feet, they’re killing me,” whined Twostaves. “Are we nearly there yet?”
“Oh, go jump off a waterfall,” spat Robert. “And if my headache gets any worse, I’ll join you.”
“Come on,” Dinendale said, “you guys need to settle down. We’re all pretty worn out.”
“Since when did you become the magistrate?” asked Broadside in a huff, his voice echoing in the helmet covering his face.
“Since you and the others are showing signs of heat exhaustion,” said Dinendale, sighing.
“Maybe we do need to cool off a little,” Duelmaster suggested. He turned and smiled feebly at Paige, despite his exhaustion. “Did I hear word of a stream near here?”
“Aye,” Broadside said, “I could hear the water running in the ground a ways back. Here, I can feel the vibration of the creek even through these boots.” He lifted one boot to show to all.
“Well, hurry it up, princess,” Robert said. “If you take too long to wash them lovely locks, I’ll get a pole and fish you out from upstream.”
“I’ll hurry.” She grabbed the small bag of necessities out of her pack and headed into the woods in the direction Broadside had indicated.
“Be safe!” Twostaves called out as she trudged off into the brush. Paige waved his way as she entered the thicket.
Her halfling ears caught the sound of trickling water flowing over a bed of pebbles, and soon a large, deep creek became clear through the canopy of tangled bramble bushes and oak trees. It was about a stone’s throw wide with water as clear as a polished looking-glass. A flat beach’s shiny pebbles of every shade of brown and red spread on either side of the babbling water, crunching as she made her way around the scattered boulders to the edge of the water. She could see a small recess in the stream where the water would be deep enough to come up to her waist. Dipping her hand into the clear water, she let out a small giggle of glee as the coolness of it erased the dirt and grime from her wrists with a simple touch.
She laid down her small satchel to take off her armor, unfastened the belt and the metal vambraces Twostaves had given her. The princess laid everything, including Klaíohm, on a large, moss-covered boulder a little ways from the shore. She almost set the leather scroll with the rest of the gear but decided to take the extra precaution by hiding it in a small opening under the rock. She scooped some of the tiny pebbles from the beach into the opening to cover up her hideaway.
Taking a deep breath of the fresh, clean air, she approached the pebbled creek bed and knelt into the crystal water, letting it lap up at her knees. She untied her week-old ponytail, shuddering at its grimy and gritty feel. Stepping into the cool running water, she attacked her hair with her bone comb, vigorously untangling it. Once it was a little less like a thrush’s nest, she held her breath and plunged her head into the water.
Being underwater reminded her of the time she and her sister had been taught by their mother to see as clearly under water as they could on land. This worked because of their heightened senses. Paige stared at the stream bed, probing the sand for anything of interest. Seeing only a few minnows and a crayfish, she soon lost interest and came up for air. She began to hum an Alatarian lullaby, stroking her hair in time to the song’s soft beat as she whispered the words.
“When sun goes down and moon rises high,
And the meadowlarks stir in the sky,
You will be my ain true one,
‘Til the dawn comes with an endless sun.”
Paige sang and scrubbed until her hair felt silky and clean again. Trudging out of the water, she sighed with satisfaction as she gathered her belongings. She’d always favored time with her father rather than stupid housekeeping lessons back home as well, to the dismay of her mother and Olivian. But just because she dressed like a man didn’t mean she relished being as dirty as one.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts and the age-old tune that she failed to hear the slight rustle of grass on the bank behind her. She hummed the last few bars as she pulled her jerkin over her head.
“’At was a mighty nice tune, eh, gents?”
Paige whirled around. Behind her stood a ragged group of the ugliest creatures she had ever beheld in her short life. Each one was about five feet tall, with long, thin legs and gangly arms. Their hands and feet could have been muck rakes, for their fingers and toes were enormously long, with pointed, chipped yellow nails. Slimy skin the color of a muddy, algae-riddled puddle was covered with dark splotches, much like patches of mold on cheese. A mop of oily black hair trailed down their backs, reminiscent of slimy, dead seaweed she’d read about in Papa’s books. Their ears, though tall and pointed, were not elegant like that of an elf; these were bumpy and muddled with warts and coarse black hairs. The creatures had sickly yellow eyes and thin, pointed chins, accented by long, hooked noses. The rough band of ten or so wore ragged pants; only a few were graced with vests.
“Yessiree!” one said. “A pretty lully if’n I eve’ did ’ear ’un.”
“And sung by a regular beauty ’erself!” another said. Paige felt icy fear grip her chest. She took a step back, almost tripping into the water, her spine tingling in warning.
“Well, gents!” exclaimed one that seemed to be the gang’s leader, “it looks like we’ve scared the bloomin’ daylight out of ’er!” He smiled, the rotting grin making Paige feel queasy. Whatever these things were, they weren’t the kind she wanted to mingle with. “You see, me an’ me chums,” the leader continued, motioning to his comrades as he walked, “have a little bet on!”
As he spoke, three of the foul beings slid into the water to Paige’s left without a sound.
“I bet you have quite a bit of gold stashed in that pouch.”
“If you think so, take it and move along, but I promise you it’s only soap,” Paige managed to say without her voice wavering.
“We shall see, because Jarep here thinks you have more ‘soap’ stashed on your person,” the leader hissed. The three in the water were advancing quickly, and Paige tumbled into the stream as panic gripped her heart.
“I don’t like to lose bets!” shouted another, staring her down.
One of the creatures lunged at her, his streamlined body skimming through the water like an eel. Paige punched him in the jaw before he could grab her arm. Another darted at her and she jerked her knife from its sheath on her leg, slashing up at his face in the same motion. The blade cut him under the eye, and the gash oozed a sludgy green fluid as he recoiled in agony.
She tried to do the same to the third as he latched onto her left arm, but he was too fast for her. He grabbed her fist with a slimy webbed hand and pushed her back under the water. She tried to kick her way out, but several other creatures dragged her down. She dropped the dagger as they held her under.
She shoved past the clawing arms and legs and sucked air into her lungs with a gasp. “HEL—”
A hand clamped around her skull and shoved her back into the stream. Even with keen underwater sight, it was hard to see anything past the bubbles escaping her lips. As her world began to fade into black with every heartbeat, she felt herself giving up and her body being hauled up to the pebbled shore, multiple pairs of slimy, webbed feet slapping up and down on the beach.
They dragged her, sputtering and coughing, before the leader, who sat atop the boulder on which she’d placed her belongings. Paige tried to kick loose, but her captors held on tightly, their vise-like fingers gripping her arms. The chief screamed with laughter.
“You’re a feisty ’un! Right lit’le bobcat, ain’t ya?” he sneered. She spat at his filthy feet and he recoiled, eyes flashing in anger.
“Looks like the bobcat ’as a lit’le temper!” One of them whistled. The leader stepped forward, reached out, and slapped her hard across the cheek. She took the blow without a sound, though her cheek burned as if it had been stung by a hive of bees. He smirked. Then he noticed her necklace and the key dangling from the silver elvish chain.
“Well, well!” he hissed. “Pre’ty voice, pre’ty face, and pre’ty jewelry! Yeh know, I’ve taken a fancy for that.” He wrenched the key from her neck. A ball of fiery, raw anger seared through Paige’s chest, and she managed to free an arm, striking at him. He flinched, but a smile touched his thin lips.
“Looks like she needs a lesson in manners! ’Ow’d you like t’play a lit’le game?”
He motioned, and the creatures surrounded her, shoving, grabbing at her, laughing like the thugs they were. Paige screamed in terror and rage as she wildly clawed at anything that tried to touch her. One kicked her down and another one stepped on her back. Crying out, she tried to shove its foot off, but it only pushed harder, trapping her wrists as well. She could feel the creature’s hot, putrid breath on her neck as it cruelly cackled.
A noise all too familiar, like the hum of a bee, was followed by a sickening thud as her attacker was thrown backwards. Black-fletched shafts flew through the air. The creatures panicked, scrambling around in confusion. Soon, five more were on the ground, arrows protruding from their thin bodies. As the survivors fled towards the woods for safety, Robert and Duelmaster leapt out in front of them and pushed them back, Robert roaring like a lion as he swung his spear, and Duelmaster flourishing his rapiers. Robert’s spear cut one in half like a knife through a casserole. Duelmaster impaled the other two as he charged headlong into the fray, leaving his two thin blades pinning them to the gravel as he smoothly pulled his bow from its place on his back.
What remained of the terrified creatures turned and ran the opposite way down the shoreline, but Jesnake and Broadside burst forth out of the bushes, bows drawn. Twostaves stopped the creatures who tried to double back, hitting the first with his staff so hard that the pathetic brute flew back into the remnant of the band. Having nowhere to run, the rest fell to the ground and begged for mercy.
Paige, sitting shocked on the ground, felt a warm, dry hide thrown over her shoulders. Turning, she found Dinendale standing behind her, eyes dark with rage.
“Are you alright?” he asked Paige. She nodded, pulling the hide closer to her soaked, shivering shoulders. “Good,” he said, turning back to the prisoners. “It would appear you fell afoul of a band of Bogatrolls.”
The men rounded up the prisoners with very little resistance after that, binding them all and forcing them back to campsite. Paige took a few moments to get fully dressed once more, this time deciding to lash the leather scroll securely to her inner thigh rather than her waist.
Remnants of the thuggish crew were marched back to camp where they were thrown to their knees in front of Dinendale. The elf was flanked by Robert and Duelmaster on either side.
“We didn’t mean nothin’ by it!” squealed one of the Bogatrolls.
“Sure you didn’t,” Dinendale retorted.
“Look, we apologized! Most o’our chums are dead, and you ’ave us tied ’and and foot, like animals!” whimpered one of the pathetic lot. “What more do yeh want?”
“Maybe a scalp or two,” muttered Robert in a deep voice dripping with bitterness as he checked the edge of his skinning knife with his thumb. Dinendale nodded in amused agreement then turned back to the five prisoners.
“Who’s in charge?” he asked. All the other nasty little creatures turned and looked at the Bogatroll who had stolen Paige’s key. He glared at his companions.
“I, sir. Horrace of Whackwillow; of the house of Thumberbump the Noble.”
“Noble, eh?”
“More noble ’an any of ’our bloodlines, I’d dare wager!”
“Please, can I sit on this one?” the giant begged, leaning down close to Horrace’s head and looking him in the eye with a gleeful smile meant to scare the Bogatroll. Judging by its trembling lips, it was working.
“Actions, not bloodlines, are what make a man, or troll, noble,” Dinendale sneered.
“Look, the lady was singin’, we thought she looked beau’iful and she seemed like the kind as could take a bit o’fun, so we messed around a lit’le…” Horrace began, only to be cut short by Di
nendale, who leapt to his feet and cuffed the Bogatroll’s face.
“I will not stand for this lady to be insulted!” To make the point, the elf drew his dagger and slid the tip across the side of the creature’s neck, just hard enough to draw a drop of sticky blood, which rolled down the knife’s edge.
“Ey’ didn’t mean it!” another troll screeched in terror. Horrace paled.
“Dinendale, no!” Paige exclaimed. The thought of watching the elf cut the throat of a tied up creature was more revolting than Horrace’s insults.
“They would have killed you, or worse,” the elf snapped.
“I know,” Paige’s voice was shaking, fear still clutching her heart. “But not like this.”
Dinendale stood for a moment, then released the troll’s head and sheathed his dirk.
