“That’s private,” they said together and stood, disturbed looks on their faces. “We are going to sleep now.”
They took a few steps away from the fire and lay down in their usual night time formation. The three of them laid on their backs in a row, shoulder-to-shoulder, and closed their eyes. They didn’t sleep in bedrolls or even use a blanket. They didn’t need to. Some of the runes on their skin kept the night’s chill away and other runes made them tough enough that they didn’t mind the odd rock or stick jabbing into their backs.
Lenny walked up to him and in a loud whisper said, “Touched a nerve there, Son.”
“Ooh!” Rufus agreed and through the bond said. They were mad.
“I noticed,” Edge said.
“Maybe some things ain’t worth bein’ curious ’bout,” Lenny observed and patted Edge’s arm before heading to his own bedroll.
Edge wasn’t sure he agreed. Evidently the nature of the orcs’ connection was something Evastus wanted to keep quiet, but he was paying them a lot of money. If he was going to depend on them in battle it would be best if he understood how the three of them worked in concert.
He went to sleep that night with concerns about the brothers still burning in his mind. The next day, the three orcs acted like nothing was wrong. Their eye twitch was gone, and they seemed to have forgiven Edge for prying into the nature of their runes. The day began as any other and the party was quickly back onto the scent of Jhonate and the thief.
They traveled for three more days, reaching the outer edge of Razbeck. The air grew more and more hot as they left the tree-filled countryside and passed into the rocky wildlands to the north. It was at this point that it became evident that their run of good weather had come to an end.
On their first afternoon in the wildlands, the wind picked up and dark clouds rushed across the western horizon towards them. They came to the top of a rise and Edge could see that torrential rain obscured the landscape ahead of them in a thick mist. Lightning sparkled through the oncoming storm followed seconds later by booming thunder.
“This is gonna be a gusher!” Lenny yelled. “We don’t wanna be tryin’ to track in the middle of that.”
“Get over to those rocks.” Fist said, pointing to a cluster of tall boulders just off of the road. “Rufus and I have a trick we’ve developed for just this sort of occasion.”
“Ooh!” said Rufus in excitement.
The rogue horse stepped off of the roadway and Fist and Edge climbed down from his back. Then Rufus stood next to the rocks and began to grow in size. But he didn’t grow proportionately this time. His arms and lion-like rear legs lengthened and while his body rose above everyone else, he also caused his torso and rear end to widen. His skin and bones stretched, his internal structure adapting to fit this new shape. Soon the black and tan rogue horse was nearly as wide as he was tall.
Lenny grimaced at the absurdity of it. “Yer turnin’ Monkeyface into a gad-burned rain shelter?”
“He likes it,” Fist assured the dwarf. Rufus’ leonine tail was certainly wagging happily.
The ogre then enacted a spell to go along with Rufus’ transformation. He sent thick cords of earth magic up from the ground to travel up the rogue horse’s thick arms and rear legs. Then he tied the cords of magic together and spread them in a net-like structure across Rufus’ back to act as grounding wires to protect him and the rest of the party from lightning strikes.
When they were finished, the rogue horse’s underside was nine feet off of the ground. There was just enough room for the entire party to huddle under him just as the storm hit. Everyone did so, even Lenny’s horse, who took some coaxing to stand under this strange hairy shelter.
The land around them darkened with the approach of the water-laden clouds, and the storm struck with a roar of wind and falling rain. The rocks around them kept the worst of the wind away, but even Rufus’ new form couldn’t stop the rain that blew in sideways. Edge’s legs and back were drenched, but fortunately the worst of the wind was soon over and they were left standing under a ridiculous torrent of water.
Rufus put his big head down to look at them, his wet hair clinging to face. He grinned widely at them, his face upside down as rain poured off of him in sheets. “I’m wet!” he huffed in his staccato voice.
“Dag-gum!” said Lenny, who was standing next to Albert, doing his best to keep the horse calm. “It smells like the world’s biggest wet dog under here!”
“Not a dog!” Rufus protested with a frown.
“I didn’t say you was a dog,” Lenny replied. “I said you smelt like one, you hairy half ape!”
“Oh,” said the rogue horse, feeling much better about the insult.
Lightning continued to crackle overhead and there was a strike not far away. The bolt hit the ground with a booming report that caused Albert to whinny nervously. Fist’s magical protections weren’t needed, but Edge was certainly glad they were in place.
The Bash Brothers were the ones standing closest to his face and they reached out to pat his upside-down head in approval. “You make a good shelter, Rufus,” they said in unison.
The rogue horse’s smile returned. “Yes! I’m wide.”
Edge once again felt the chill presence of his great grandfather’s thoughts through the bond. I have been giving some thought to these Bash Brothers, the wizard said. I have a theory about them and it is a bit disturbing.
Edge looked over at the three affable brothers who were continuing their conversation with Rufus. Go ahead, he sent, and he made sure the rest of his bonded were listening in.
Warwielders are rare among orcs. They are mostly found in the orc capitol in Khalpany, the ancient wizard began. They are the apex of their race and are treated like royalty over there.
Edge thought he could see where Artemus was going with this. So it’s strange that three of them would be wandering around as mercenaries.
Indeed, it is. Why are they not commanders of orc armies or living a pampered life being tended to by human slaves? Artemus asked.
Perhaps they were banished for crimes in their city, Deathclaw suggested. The raptoid was crouched next to Edge. He wasn’t happy about sheltering under Rufus, but he didn’t wish to remain out in that heavy rain.
Or they chose to leave that life voluntarily, Artemus posited. Whatever the reason may be, for the three of them to go through such an experience and stay together means that they are very close.
That much is evident, Edge agreed.
In the memories you shared with me, Lenny told you he had heard that two of them had died, is that correct? Artemus said.
Yes, sent Fist. He wasn’t as worried about the nature of the Bash Brothers as Edge was, but he was just as curious. And from what we have learned about their spirits we can only assume that Evastus was the survivor.
He is seemingly the youngest of them, added Deathclaw. And he is definitely the smartest.
Imagine his state of mind if his two older brothers were killed, said Artemus.
Fist gave the orcs a sympathetic glance. He would have been devastated.
Indeed, and I imagine that this grief-stricken warwielder brought his brothers’ corpses to a powerful wizard, likely one that dabbled with the darker side of magic, Artemus continued.
Edge nodded. We know that they have access to at least one powerful wizard. And even if it wasn’t Ghazardblast, there are usually wizards of that nature in Khalpany.
Whoever it was had to be extremely knowledgeable in spirit magic. And evil because what I believe the wizard agreed to do to them is stomach churning, Artemus said. He managed to restore their bodies to health, and covered them with those intricate protective runes, but obviously it was too late to return their souls.
The wizard let out a morbid chuckle. I know that it sounds strange coming from an old soul that’s living in his great grandson’s chest, but dead is dead. Once a spirit leaves its body, it can’t be returned.
Then how are they breathing? Edge asked. He
had already guessed much of what Artemus was suggesting, but this was a sticking point in his mind. The practice bodies that the Mage School wizards kept alive had to be constantly monitored and the spells that did the work were replaced daily. The bodies’ organs would stop working otherwise.
The wizard bound the spirits of some kind of creatures to their bodies, Artemus explained. They could have been cows or some other large beast. The creatures didn’t have to be very intelligent, he wasn’t intending to use their minds, just their life force to keep their blood pumping.
Using the souls of animals to keep bodies alive with binding magic . . . said Fist in awe. It’s unethical but I can see how it would work.
Deathclaw hissed in disgust at the idea. Then how do they talk and act like living orcs, even if they are stupid ones?
I’m getting to that. Evastus would have wanted his brothers back as they had once been, but since the wizard couldn’t do that, he was left with few options. Now I don’t know if this was Evastus’ suggestion or if he was tricked into it by the wizard but, and this is the most disturbing part, said Artemus. What he did was insert magical devices inside them that connected their bodies to their younger brother. I’ve been puzzling over the runes at the base of their heads and that’s what they tell me. Evastus’ mind controls both of them.
You mean he just uses them like . . . puppets? Edge said, aghast.
To his mind, their bodies are an extension of his, Artemus explained. It likely took a long time for him to figure out how to move them independently. It requires him to split his reflexes in three directions.
It sounds impossible, piped in Squirrel, who was warm and dry in his pouch at Fist’s side.
Edge knew what kind of mental acrobatics it took to communicate to multiple people while keeping track of his own actions. It had been very difficult at first, but he had gotten used to it over the years and it came instinctually to him now. Nevertheless, trying something like what Evastus was doing would be a great stress on anyone’s mind.
This explains why they often talk in unison, he sent. And it explains the facial tic he got the other night.
But for him to pretend that his brothers are alive? That is insanity, said Deathclaw.
Edge tried to put himself in Evastus’ shoes. He was grief-stricken and lonely and now had control of his brother’s bodies. He could see how tempting it would be to carry on conversations with them no matter how wrong it was. Do you think he’s still aware that this is what he’s doing, or has he become completely crazy?
From the way he acts, he has to be crazy at this point, Artemus said.
I’m not so certain, Fist said, watching the three orcs conversing with Rufus’ upside-down face. I think he tries to forget that they are dead, but there are times that you can tell he is aware of it.
Like the other night when he got upset at me for looking at his runes, Edge said.
The main question you should ask yourself is can someone that is both this powerful and this unhinged be trusted? Artemus asked.
Edge wasn’t sure and at this point neither were any of the others.
The Bash Brothers noticed that everyone was staring at them and instinctively covered the backs of their necks. “What? Are our eyes twitching again?”
“Naw,” Lenny assured them. “Yer fine. I don’t know what these goofuses are gawkin’ at.”
“We were just thinking,” Fist said.
“About how all the tracks are messed up now?” Evastus asked.
“Yeah,” said Edge and that was certainly a huge concern.
A rain this intense would destroy all evidence of scents or tracks. Unless they could pick up the trail again, the only thing they knew for certain was Jhonate’s end goal. Hopefully the thief didn’t have other plans.
The storm passed over them a short time later and the heat of the day returned with an intensity that filled the air with mist as the water evaporated. Edge and the others walked out from under Rufus and while the rogue horse resumed his usual shape, they stepped out onto the misty road. For the moment, every depression in the landscape was filled with pools of water that would be quickly absorbed by the parched earth.
Soon the sun’s rays banished the lingering mist and revealed that their party was not alone on the muddy road. Edge found himself looking at four drenched pilgrims of unlikely size. The dripping gray cloaks that they wore obscured their identities, but each of them was nearly seven feet tall and heavily muscled.
The pilgrims gasped when they saw him. “Sir Edge!” Cried one of them and his voice was strangely familiar. “What a surprise.”
They threw back their hoods to reveal faces that were a seeming mishmash of different races, not one of them the same. One was part human with greenish skin, another part elf, but with sharp teeth. One of them was a female with beady red eyes. Other than their size, the only other thing they had in common was a slight sheen of slime that covered their skin.
The one who had spoken took a step closer to him. He appeared to be part human, but had light green hair and reptilian scales covered part of his face. His eyes were slitted and yellow. He smiled. “You do remember me, don’t you, Sir Edge?”
Edge’s eyes widened as he realized why he knew the voice. “Aldie?”
This was the last place he had expected to find trollkin.
Chapter Twenty Three
Sir Edge – Recollections
“Is that Sir Lance’s boy?” asked Lenny, hurrying up to stand beside Edge.
Aldie smiled at the dwarf, exposing a set of teeth that were trollish and sharp up top, but human on the bottom. He shook the dwarf’s hand with his large clawed hand. “Yes, Mr. Firegobbler, Sir. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”
“Well hell, Son,” Lenny said, patting the sopping-wet, part-reptile trollkin on the arm. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“Aldie!” said Fist as he and Deathclaw came over to join Edge and Lenny with the four trollkin. They knew Aldie fairly well.
Aldie had once been a human Battle Academy student before he had gone to Malaroo with Edge years ago. He had been swallowed by the Troll Mother, a god-like troll behemoth that lived under the swamps. She had rebirthed him as one of her trollkin, which were amalgamations of trolls and other beasts. The Troll Mother had swallowed and changed thousands of people and animals of different races before Edge and his companions had managed to destroy her.
The part-reptile trollkin greeted both of them warmly. “It’s so rare that I get to see the friends I made before I became trollkin.”
Rufus and the Bash Brothers walked up to join them. The orcs looked at the trollkin with curiosity. “What are these wet people?” they said in unison.
“They’re called trollkin,” Lenny said.
“What are they?” asked Aldie, looking back up at the brothers and their huge clubs with alarm.
“They’re just orcs,” Lenny assured him.
“Aldie, what are you four doing way up here in the wildlands?” Edge asked. They were a long way from the city of KhanzaRoo where the trollkin people lived.
Aldie looked a bit embarrassed as he answered. “Well, uh-.” He gestured at the other trollkin. “Bernard and Ebner and Meg, and-uh me, are pilgrims now.”
“We can see that by how yer dressed,” Lenny pointed out. “Why?”
Aldie blinked at them as if the answer was self-evident. “To get our curses removed. Lots of us trollkin have joined the movement.”
Edge frowned slightly. He wasn’t a proponent of the pilgrim movement. He didn’t feel that it was his place to judge, but the vast majority of the people who were traveling around were simply wasting years of their lives. Only a small number of the them had actual curses and of those, he doubted that any would find healing in this manner. Even if the holy sites had healing properties, the guardians that protected the sites didn’t let random people through. These pilgrims just got as close to the sites as they could and then turned around.
Fist had similar thou
ghts. “But what you have isn’t a regular kind of curse.”
“What else would you call it?” Aldie said.
“Well, curses are generally caused by evil spirit magic,” Fist said, and he gestured as he explained. “In your case, what happened is that the behemoth digested you. Then it mixed the very building blocks of your bodies with troll tissue, grew you a new body, and then put your soul back in it.” He shrugged regretfully. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t a curse to break. The Mage School has worked with your king and looked into every solution, but there is no cure. Your original bodies are . . . gone.”
Lenny gave the ogre a dumbfounded look. “Dag-gum, Son. That’s a cold way to put it.”
Fist winced and glanced back at Aldie. “I apologize if I offended you. I just didn’t want you to continue travelling all this way without knowing what you were up against.”
If they were discouraged by the ogre’s doubt, they didn’t show it. “We understand what happened to us, and we’re not looking for a cure,” said Meg, the female trollkin. “We’re looking for a miracle.”
Aldie smiled at her and patted her shoulder. “When pilgrims first started showing up in Malaroo wanting to see the Jharro Grove, we heard their stories and realized that they had the only possible answer. Since no one else is able to fix our problem, why not seek out the Creator’s help?”
Edge did his best not to grimace at the idea. The Creator didn’t directly intervene in the lives of the races. He sent the prophets to do that. Of course, who was he to judge? Hadn’t he just spent months listening to his rune and trying to follow the Creator’s will? Wasn’t his wife right now traveling to a holy site hoping to break her own curse?
He sighed. “Does your king approve of this?”
“It’s not his favorite plan,” admitted the half-elf trollkin that Aldie had referred to as Bernard.
Edge hadn’t thought it would be. The Troll King was a good ruler. He wouldn’t want them wasting their lives on false hope. He watched out for his people and knew that their condition wasn’t something that could be fixed.
Sir Edge Page 25
