by T. F. Walsh
“Back away!” Povian yelled at the troll.
“What the fuck?” Not waiting a second more, Shadow raced toward Povian. Trolls were renowned for their quick tempers. The smallest thing set them off, but calming them took hours. And that was after massive destruction.
Burned timber permeated the air. Beneath the smell lay the putrid funk of troll—perspiration and rotten meat.
“Hey, monkey boy!” Shadow called out in an attempt to lure him away from Povian, but the troll stormed toward the minister.
Shadow sprinted up behind the beast and hurled himself onto his enormous back. Shadow’s fingers grasped at the overall straps as he scaled upward. When it came to a fight, there was no honor, no rules, just winning.
Shadow slammed his fists into the enemy’s head. The troll lost his footing and fell forward.
Povian darted to the right, running out of sight and vanishing into the forest. Yes. Get help.
Zana screamed words he couldn’t decipher. Shadow held on as he hit the ground, the troll crashing alongside him, making the ground shake. A puff of dust billowed around them.
No time to waste. Shadow continued his blows, glancing over at Zana, winking. “This’ll be over in a sec.”
A massive hand swatted at him. Shadow ducked, but the next blow smacked him in the face. His vision wavered as the impact tossed him sideways. He staggered up and rubbed his nose with a palm, blood staining his skin. “Damn. He’ll pay for that.”
“Watch out!” Zana shouted.
A huge figure came for Shadow.
He threw himself into a side roll at the last second. The moment he snapped to his feet and spun, a punch collided with his chest. Next thing he knew, he was flying across the field, his lungs emptied of oxygen. He hit the ground, and panic unfurled in his chest. No more messing around.
Bright lights filled his vision, and he struggled to inhale. Each attempt left him wheezing. While he’d never faced off with a troll before, the beast wouldn’t walk away.
The bastard charged, mouth open with a belching scream, his rotted teeth on display.
Shadow scanned the ground for a weapon. He swiped a large rock from near his foot. But the troll crashed into him, bumping Shadow into a tree. He slid to the ground in a heap.
“Bloody hell.” Every part of him ached. He was convinced he’d just broken every bone in his body.
Before Shadow could test that theory, the troll snatched his ankle and swung him back toward the fire. Shadow rolled from the impact, ending up mere feet from the inferno.
“I’m going to rip you apart,” Shadow wheezed.
Zana was at his side, tugging at his shirt. “Get up. We have to leave.”
He never ran. When he pushed himself to a sitting position, blood spotted from his nose and onto his clothes.
Zana dragged him by an arm, pulling him off balance. “Shit, shit. I told you about my dream. Fucking run.” The agony in her voice pierced his heart. He vowed to protect her.
The troll thundered toward them.
Okay. Maybe running was an option… for Zana.
Shadow did the first thing that came to mind. He shoved Zana away and whirled in the opposite direction. He sprinted on legs that wobbled. Just out of reach were the densely-populated oak trees, giving him obstacles to use to dodge the troll. But when an enormous weight bulldozed against his back, Shadow fell face first into the field. His breath vanished. His face pressed into the ground. And, yet, his thoughts flew to Zana and her insistence he’d die.
A paralyzing sting spread through him like icy water. But he wasn’t ready for death. He hadn’t avenged his uncle. Hadn’t done anything with his life.
The compression of the troll on top of him cut off his air, his circulation, his everything. He hung on for those few seconds, waiting for the end. A flash of regret threaded through him. Why hadn’t he returned home earlier? Why hadn’t he made peace with Klurt before he died?
9
The air strangled Zana. Her panic intensified with the desperation to run, scream, hide.
The attacking troll grunted. He lay on his stomach, flattening Shadow. Several paces away, flames crackled and spat embers.
Zana bolted to the fire and grappled with a heavy piece of wood. A wave of heat crashed into her, smoldering against her skin, drying her throat. She heaved the timber and pried it free from within the jungle of the burning pyre.
“Dickhead Carver.”
He had set the troll on them. Carver had grown up in the mountains, alongside the trolls, so he had connections. Plus, once an asshole, always an asshole.
She stumbled backward and grasped the two-foot log ablaze at one end. She swung around and ran to save Shadow.
“Get off him, you bastard!” Hurting anyone wasn’t Zana’s way, but neither was sitting back and watching Shadow die. She lowered the fire to the back of the troll’s butt, burning his pants.
The enormous beast flinched sideways, squealing and freeing Shadow.
“Piss off, or I’ll torch you again!” She thrust the fiery end of the wood toward the creature.
Her gaze swept to Shadow, who lay there, unmoving, pressed into the ground. Her insides crumbled. Please don’t be dead.
“Shadow, are you okay? Get up.” She nudged his boot with hers as a growl pierced the night air.
The troll thumped his chest with a fist and belched incomprehensible words. Only a few goblins in town knew how to speak Troll, and she wasn’t one of them. But who cared when the mammoth flesh muncher had his sights set on her?
He huffed and snorted.
“Crap! Listen.” She held the stick with two hands. “We’re not the enemy.”
He stomped closer.
She retreated, her stomach lurching.
If there was a bright side, it was that at least the troll had passed Shadow and seemed to have forgotten him.
“Fuck off.” She waved her weapon. “Return to your mountain. Please, just leave.”
He unleashed a half-howl, half-screech.
When the beast charged, she pictured herself trampled to death. She spun and sprinted past the flames chewing the last remains of Klurt’s coffin.
A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the troll was close, his long fingers reaching in her direction. Her feet skimmed the meadow as she sped, adrenaline coursing through her system. If the troll didn’t kill her, her hammering heart would when it exploded.
She ran full-pelt. Her stomach punched the back of her throat.
Leaping over a dead log, she eyed the nearby woods. They offered her more of a chance of escaping. The huge bastard would slow down in the dense forest.
A sudden yank on her hair had her tripping. Her legs buckled. The world flew past. For those few seconds, a blackened fear consumed her. Helplessness.
She slammed to the ground. Her back spasmed and lungs emptied. She wasn’t sure she could ever walk again. Above her, the waft of smoke smothered the night sky, choking her.
The troll’s face appeared above her, smirking with his toothy grin.
“Shithead,” she called out.
He lifted a bent leg over her, and she gawked at the underside of his bare foot. Hardened heel crusted with dirt, and toes with pointy nails. She cringed and forced herself to roll away.
He stomped a hair away from her head. She clambered away, still on hands and knees. Except the troll wasn’t coming after her.
Frozen on the spot, he stared at something behind her. With a grunt, he broke into a run in the opposite direction. Branches snapped and the shattering of timber split before it fell.
A mob of goblins rushed past Zana led by the minister, Povian. Screams ensued, and weapons waved in the air.
“Thank you.”
Her breaths hiccupped as she climbed to her feet. It reminded her why living in a community came with benefits. But as the goblins chased after the mountain dweller, weaving into the forest, Zana’s thoughts swung to Shadow.
She limped toward him. Her lower back cramped
.
He lay where she had left him, and even before she knelt next to him, tears were sliding down her cheeks. “Shadow?” She gingerly reached over to touch his arm. “Why didn’t you believe me?”
Zana pushed against his arm and hip, turning him onto his back. She brushed the soil from his brow and used her sleeve to wipe the blood from his busted lip. She lowered an ear to his face, waiting to hear his breath.
When none came, she shook his shoulders. Her fingers dug into his muscles. “Please come back.”
Memories of their short time together bounced in her head. How safe and adored he made her feel. Beyond the physical, she truly cared for Shadow; remembering his pain when he spoke to the community that didn’t want him back. Like her, he was an outcast, but he didn’t care. She, on the other hand, craved to be embraced by the townsfolk. Had she been a fool to spend years trying to gain acceptance instead of living her life, just as Shadow had done? Bitterness rose like bile to the back of her mouth, and she had no reason to swallow it.
Her life had gone from bad to worse to unbearable. Klurt was dead, and now history had just repeated itself. Instead of helping, her visions made her the grim reaper.
She slumped her head on his stomach, inhaling his musky scent; the one she’d drowned in last night. Her mind refused to believe Shadow was gone. “Don’t go.”
Losing Klurt had destroyed her, but with Shadow gone, tears fell as rain did in a storm.
She lifted herself and beat a fist into his chest. “You idiot.”
A groan spilled from Shadow’s mouth.
It took a second for the groan to sink in. He wasn’t dead yet. With a closed hand, she struck him a few more times. Povian had once said when someone was unconscious, thumping their heart helped. Or was that after drowning? She couldn’t remember but kept striking Shadow.
“A-Are you trying to kill me?” His croaky voice stopped her. He peeled open his eyes.
Her emotions were thin pieces of paper. “You’re alive!” She threw herself onto him. Her hands sailed around his neck and lifted his head off the ground.
“C-can’t breathe.”
She released him. “I thought I lost you, and I told you about my dream, and…”
He pushed himself up to a sitting position, bones cracking. “Sons of bitches trolls. They’re a menace.”
“The troll crushed you. How did you survive?”
Shadow shrugged, then winced. “Wasn’t meant to die today, I guess.”
A rumble of voices escalated. She spun in the direction of the sound. Povian approached with other goblins, fanning out in all directions.
“The troll ran for the hill. Are you all right, son?” He offered Shadow a hand, heaving him to his feet. Shadow helped Zana up.
“I’ll be all right,” Shadow responded.
“Well, you two better head home. I’m setting up watch goblins in case the troll comes back with reinforcements.”
“Of course.” Zana stroked Shadow’s arm; his muscles tensed.
“Once the casket is burned,” Povian continued. “We’ll release the ashes over the river as is customary. You don’t need to worry.”
“Thank you,” Shadow said, and broke into a slow, staggered walk. He nudged her arm. “Sorry to disappoint you. Looks like your vision didn’t come true.”
Her deep chuckle released the pent-up pain. Shadow was still alive, and maybe she was able to change fate after all. ‘Amazing’ didn’t come close to covering how that felt. It was as if someone had told her she’d been wrong and her parents were still alive.
She slapped Shadow in the arm. “Listen to me next time.”
He smiled with a devilish grin. Damn if it didn’t leave her quivering in the best possible way; despite her mind telling her to ignore the heat burning between her thighs. She needed to remember Shadow was only visiting Pryvale.
“Thanks for everything,” she said.
“Thank you for saving me.” He winked, and she leaned against him, drowning in his company. She had no idea how she would have gotten through the day without Shadow.
He slid a hand across her lower back, and together they limped to her house. No words were needed, just his company was sufficient to help Zana through a day of grief, regret, and terror.
She pushed all worries aside. What was wrong with having a week of fun while he was in town? When was the last time she let herself have a vacation? Or be with someone who stared at her as if she were chocolate cake? Besides, the day wasn’t over, and she intended to spend every second with Shadow.
The moment, they entered her home and she shut the door, they both stood in the living room, staring at each other. Heat engulfed her. The windows illuminated from the glowworms outside, lighting up the side of Shadow’s gorgeous face. She seized his arm and drew him toward her, unable to get close enough to him. “Make me forget today.”
With an arm sliding across her back, he bent slightly forward and tucked the other arm behind her knees. He lifted her into his arms with ease. “Anything you want. I’m yours.”
His lips brushed hers, and she let herself fall completely and utterly under his spell.
Zana’s eyes fluttered open to the morning light streaming into her bedroom. Her body thrummed for Shadow. What a dream. No. Wait. She had spent the night in Shadow’s embrace, both naked and fucking for hours. Unlike the first time, he was gentle that time, prolonging the sensation she wanted back. Because that was how shitty days were dealt with and forgotten. And she was officially in lust with Shadow. It was the second night of the Lunar Festival, and the time of the mating dance. Would Shadow participate? Smiling to herself, Zana rolled over, her hand instinctively reaching out for the warm touch of his skin. Instead, she found the other side of her bed cold.
She sat up as unease swirled in the pit of her gut. “Shadow?”
When no response came, she climbed out of bed, bundled in the sheet, and headed to the bathroom. Empty. So were the kitchen and living rooms. “Where are you?”
At the entrance, she found it only partially secured as if someone had locked the door before pulling it closed from the outside. “Shadow left?” A sinking sensation sliced through her.
She paced in a circle, her fingers tightening the fabric draped around her torso. “No. He just didn’t want to wake me up.” Then why did her mind scream otherwise? Shadow admitted to wanting to return to the realm because Pryvale was just nice. And that made her just nice, too. Not long-term or dating material, or… Shit.
Of course she shouldn’t care. She’d told herself he planned to leave; hightail it back to the kingdom. She was a distraction. A place to stay. “You knew this.”
She folded her arms across her waist. “Shut up.” When exactly had Shadow left, anyway? Could he have died somewhere like in her vision? Had she fooled herself, believing she’d somehow overcome fate?
Shivers snaked up her arms, lifting the hairs along the way, and trepidation took over. Her mind filled with images of Shadow dead.
“Oh fuck!” She bolted through the main room and skidded into her bedroom, ripping off the sheet. Get dressed and find Shadow. “Please, Goddess. Please let him still be alive.”
10
Shadow knocked on the door studded with metal spikes. Carver had to have been lying. Sivath abhorred corruption, and the only reason his name was tainted was because goblins didn’t like him living away from the village.
The monstrous mansion stood alone in the forest. Three stories, cobblestone walls, and double-hung windows. But the dust piling up on the marble doorway was not like Sivath. Neither were the cracks appearing above the entrance. Sure, small problems to most, but Sivath obsessed over tidiness.
Shadow banged again. Nothing. Stepping off the veranda, he crossed the yard and peered through the window. Impossible to see beyond the drawn curtains. Sivath rarely left home, due to an allergic reaction to the sun. That meant he stayed indoors during the day. And it was early afternoon now.
The descending sun also reminded
him that the second day of the festival was that night—a time of the mating dance. After Klurt’s death, the troll attack, and Carver’s threat, leaving Zana alone wasn’t a possibility. She might act tough, but she carried an innocence inside her, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to break that. He’d be quick with Sivath, then head off, convinced she wouldn’t miss the event for anything.
Rounding the building, Shadow sprinted toward the backyard. He expected to find fairy lights strung over hard chairs and tables, but discovered cleared land. Had Sivath relocated?
A faint chirp of voices came from inside the enormous house. Shadow hurried closer, staying low.
Peeking through a gap in the curtain, Shadow spotted two figures inside an empty room. Behind them stood an ornate fireplace, the mantelpiece carved into a sunset. He and Sivath had spent cold nights in front of its fire.
Shadow scanned the room and tensed. Carver strolled across the bare room, laughing at hell knows what. In front of him was another goblin with golden, cropped hair. He waved his hands about as he spoke. Shadow didn’t remember that guy from the other night, but if he was linked to Carver, he had to be a dick. Plain and simple.
Carver had mentioned Sivath. So where were the goblin chief’s furnishings? Why was his house run down?
The light-haired goblin turned. His hooked nose lent him a pirate look. The goblin moved straight toward Shadow, limping on his left leg. Shadow jerked away, his back plastered to the wall.
“Den, listen to me,” Carver’s yelling pierced walls. Must be the other guy.
Shadow held his breath, listening for any sounds. Staying there wouldn’t help. He needed a vantage point to hear their discussion. Then he remembered the external basement entry.
He inched beneath the window and toward the cellar doors, but found them locked. “Shit.” It wasn’t as if he could smash them in without making too much noise. Think. Sivath had always kept a spare key hidden outside. Sivath was beyond forgetful, and, half the time, he locked himself out of the house.
