Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
RAGNAR
Debris flew in his face just moments before he heard the cracking sound. The blast of air sent Ragnar staggering before a second blast knocked him onto his back. He saw the dust that rose in the air and all the clutter from stones that were suddenly shattered into a million pieces. And then he heard it. The harsh ear clap of an explosion and the screams that quickly followed it.
Then sudden silence. He could hear nothing at all as the entire room was tossed backward into the rubble that rained down around their heads.
His ears were ringing. At first, he thought it was the screams of the humans around him, but no. The blast had damaged his hearing.
Maia .
Where was his wife? He’d been standing right next to her and then... His hands slapped at the ground, trying to find anyone and anything that was next to him.
His fingers found a warm, breathing body. But that broad shoulder belonged to a troll. Blinking the dust out of his watering eyes, he tried to see through the clouds of dust and dirt. But he couldn’t. The air was a wall of white and gray, filling his lungs with stones and rocks that were sharp bites every time he inhaled.
“Maia,” he croaked, his throat finally working well enough that he could call her name. “Where are you?”
But no one replied. The only thing he could hear through the ringing in his ears were the groans of all the trolls laid out across the floor. Although some were humans, too. So many of them all crumpled together like their king had broken their wings and thrown them in a corner.
“Maia?” he said again, crawling over one of his own as he tried to figure out where she would have been thrown. She was smaller, but she’d been standing right next to him. She must’ve been in the same area he had ended up in.
Hands grabbed onto his shoulders. Fire burned where they did, and it was like his body woke up at the touch. Suddenly, he could feel all the stone shrapnel that filled his back and shoulder. Bruises spread down his muscles where he had hit the floor, and there was definitely a rib somewhere it shouldn’t be. All of that and more pain, waves of it, crested over his head and sent him back down onto his forearms. His thighs quaked, shaking with the effort to keep himself at least somewhat crouched.
But then those hands grabbed onto him and hauled him to his feet. There were four of them. Four humans, all of them grunting as they lifted him off the ground and threw him onto something with wheels.
His head reeled. He’d hit it against the ground, he realized. Because the moment they made him move faster than a slow crawl, the entire world spun. Ragnar blinked rapidly, trying to get everything to come back into focus, but his vision remained so foggy. No matter what he did, the world continued to spin and he could only lie there and wheeze in pain.
He was still moving. Somehow. They were hauling him across bodies, because he could feel the bumps when they hit someone and heard the groans of those trampled beneath whatever carried him. Then another body hit the wood next to him.
Tilting his head, he looked over to see his brother there. And then another general who had come with them landed beside Gunnar, half on his brother and half on him.
Ragnar couldn’t handle the pain anymore. His eyes drifted shut, and the world went dark.
When he came to, he had no idea where he was. It was darker than he remembered, but that helped with the splitting headache that threatened to take his head off his shoulders. When he groaned and rolled onto his side, he could see he was surrounded by stone. The floor was wet, dripping from the ceiling in singular plops that were so loud they made his skull splinter.
Ragnar took quick stock of his body. He was injured, but not enough to stop him from fighting if he had to. Already the wounds on his back were healing, likely his own power trying to take care of him in his sleep. It wasn’t enough to waste an ounce of his magic on. The head, though, that he had to fix.
With the greatest amount of effort he’d ever used, he healed himself. Even his magic felt sluggish, because it was almost impossible to concentrate long enough for him to figure out what had happened. His head had hit the ground—he knew that. But there was a small amount of bleeding in his brain, it seemed, and thankfully he had woken up before it could do even more damage than it already had.
A wave of exhaustion hit him the moment he finished. Groaning, he slumped back onto the ground, using his forearm to pillow his head.
He had to rest. At least for a few moments, but then he would get up and figure out where he was, how to get out of it, and how to find his bride.
“They put us in a prison,” his brother’s voice quietly interrupted his rest. “Under the castle, it seems.”
“Under the castle? Why?”
“Don’t know. The whole thing was a trap.”
“I realize that,” Ragnar groaned, but then forced himself upright. If his brother was awake, then he needed to be as well. But when he finally sat up, he realized even more trolls surrounded him. Each of them were lined up against the wall in varying states of injury, and not nearly the same amount of trolls he’d come here with.
“Our king should have guessed this would happen,” Gunnar growled.
“I’m sure he did.” He had to believe that. Their king was no fool, and if he wanted this to happen or expected it to happen, then he would have made plans for it. What his plan was, however, Ragnar did not know.
“Maia?” he asked, the name sticking in his throat as fear rioted through him.
Gunnar shook his head. “None of us saw her when we were taken. It’s a small reassurance, but I think someone would have noticed if she was still there. Her hair is hard to miss.”
That was a small reassurance, and he had to take what he was given. Maia had to be alive. He would feel it if she wasn’t.
He used a bit more of his magic. Just the barest hint of it, and reached out his hand toward a small weed that was growing on the floor. If Maia was alive, that plant would grow. It would spread its leaves, brighten with life that only she could give it. Because there was no sunlight here, no wisps, nothing to help the plant grow other than her.
“Come on,” he whispered, knowing that the others were watching him just as intently. “Come on, Maia.”
Just as he was about to give up hope that the plant would ever grow, it did. The stalk twitched just a little, moving like there was a breeze, and then it grew an inch in size.
“Not dead, then,” Gunnar said with a grunt. “I don’t know if that’s better or worse than what I was hoping.”
He wasn’t certain, either. Maia deserved so much more than this, and he had led her right into a trap. He had to get out. Perhaps the others had already looked, but he would as well. In case they’d missed anything. So he stood and first walked the perimeter of the room. He checked all the stones along the edge, knowing that he was essentially in a tomb with all the trolls who were in this room.
There were two doors, one leading out into a hallway with the smallest window that he could peer out into. The hallway led into darkness, but he was certain that meant there were more cells. There was still a chance that the other trolls were still alive.
The second door was behind him, and it had no window. But there was a faint metallic scent coming from underneath it that sent an ominous ache throughout his stomach. He knew, without a doubt, that whatever was on the other side of that door was evil.
Gunnar stood as well, wincing as he approached Ragnar. “We’ve looked everywhere. No way out other than through one of those doors.”
“Can we break one?”
“Tried that too, while you were out.” His brother leaned his shoulder against the wall. “They’ve got us trapped here.”
“Of course they do.” Ragnar spat on the ground. “But we’ll be ready when they try to take us out.”
“Who needs weapons?” Gunnar flashed his teeth in a grimace, but Ragnar knew better than to believe that expression. His brother preferred fighting hand to hand. He’d seen what Gunnar could do to a human without a single knife or blade on him.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Slight clicks that were not the boots of a soldier. Ragnar turned to peer through the small window and saw a stunning woman walking through the dark with a light in her hands.
She was beyond beautiful, as close to an elf as he imagined anyone could get. Golden hair spilled down her shoulders and chest. She wore little more than a white nightgown, and for a moment, he thought perhaps she wasn’t supposed to be here. The lantern in her hands revealed the image of her form through that white nightgown. Lithe and stunning, a creature made to tempt a man.
He knew better than to trust her. Elves weren’t trustworthy, and certainly humans were infinitely worse than them.
A low growl built in his chest as she approached their cell and then paused in front of him, just out of reach.
“Are you Ragnar?” she asked, her voice a lilting melody.
“I am.”
“I’m so sorry they did this to you. I have found your bride, and I thought you would want to know what happened to her.” She set the light down on the ground, and then almost seemed to pose where she stood, waiting for his response.
He didn’t trust her. Not a bit.
Ragnar looked her over, letting his eyes linger on every part of her body. She posed even more when he did that, cocking her hip to the side and setting her hand on the swell there, as though she could make him look even longer. Then he got to her face and those pointed ears.
“Princess,” he said. “We finally meet.”
All of that prettiness disappeared the moment he realized who she was. One moment she was smiling at him, demure and kind. The next, her face twisted into the reality of disgust and contempt that she really felt. “Oh, you didn’t let me have any fun.”
“I have no interest in games. Where is my troll wife?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know? Unfortunately, you’re stuck here. And my father is going to make use of you just like all the other fighters that he has trapped here.” She grinned. “You see, my father was the first one to realize there was more we could do with you trolls. Of course, we could fight you and battle you back into the shadows, but... why would we do that when we could do so much more?”
He hated that he had to entertain her at all. “My troll wife. Where is she?”
The slender blonde in front of him lifted a single shoulder gracefully. “What will you give me if I tell you?”
“When I get out of here, I will not kill you. That’s the only thing you’ll get from me.”
“I just want to know why she was so interested in staying with you. That’s all.” She pouted and took a single step closer to the cell door. “Can I just look at it? I’ve always heard trolls are... impressive. I want to know the truth.”
Could she look at...
He reeled back in disgust. “No.”
“Really? Not even if I tell you where they’re keeping your—what did you call her?—your troll wife?” She laughed. “What a silly name. And to think my father almost made me one of those. But he wouldn’t ever part with me, not really. Why would he do that when he could just give you the gardener from down the street and you’d be too stupid to notice?”
“I look forward to killing you,” he snarled. “Slowly, as I peel your skin from your flesh. I will hang you up from the highest part of this castle so that all who see your dangling body will know that you are hated by the trolls.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll do any of that. But I will enjoy watching you die.” She bent down to pick up the light she’d left on the floor. The candlelight spun inside of it, showing that there was a longer hallway, with many, many more doors. “Since we were supposed to marry, I’ll give you a little hint at where you are. My father likes to watch people fight. He used to bring in warriors from across the realm who were renowned, but none of them were as good as trolls.”
What? Gunnar shifted beside him, leaning closer to listen.
“What do you mean, princess?” Ragnar asked.
“Oh, I like it when you call me that,” she said with a smirk. “I mean, my father enjoys watching people fight who are better at it than anyone else. Eventually, humans became boring to watch. Now, he enjoys watching your kind fight until there is nothing left inside of you but beast. It’s a shame that he has to gather you all up with so much drama. I’m sure the nobility will be angry for a time. You were just supposed to eat the poisoned food, and then we’d bring you all down here nice and quiet. But this works too. What a show.”
She turned to leave, and every part of his body screamed for her to return. He needed more information. He needed to learn where Maia was without violating his own bodily rights.
“Wait!” he shouted.
She paused and looked over her shoulder at him. “Did you change your mind? I’m not telling you anything about your little gardener unless you make good on what I want.”
“No, I’m not doing that,” he snarled. “Why tell us any of this?”
“Because we were supposed to be married, and because I want to see a good fight tonight. You’ve been injured—we can all see that. At least if you know what’s coming, then maybe you’ll be more prepared and give us a better show.”
She turned again and disappeared into the darkness down the hall. His stomach twisted with the reality of what he was facing.
“A fight?” he muttered.
But Gunnar had gone white. “All those trolls we thought the humans had killed. The ones who disappeared. Are they here?”
They stared at each other and Ragnar had to wonder if the trolls were even alive. Had they abandoned so many of their own, unknowing that they were fighting for their lives? And all for human entertainment.