Chapter 4
Four
Gunnar
Gunnar whipped his twin blades up in one motion, catching the human man who’d thought he could hunt along their mountain. The troll mountain, the one that shook humans from her sides like flies off a horse.
Blood sprayed out from the man's torso, splashing all over Gunnar. He wore the arterial spray of so many enemies that he was certain he looked quite the sight. It would take ages to wash out.
None of that mattered, though. All that did was ensure he kept fighting.
Because the humans had decided they would hunt trolls on this mountain, and he refused to allow that to happen.
He'd been one of the first to volunteer when the king had asked for warriors to defend their home.
Gunnar would not be caught unawares. He wasn't going to be one of the trolls who fell to the humans’ stupid ploys.
Their swords didn't cut through troll skin, but these soldiers knew that. It seemed that their blades were coated in poison. They were here on suicide missions. They knew they were going to die, and all they wanted was to take a few trolls with them.
Baring his tusks at one of the men who had turned to run, he pursued. Humans always thought that because they were smaller than the trolls, they would be quicker. If they could just get into the trees, then a troll surely couldn't follow them.
Maybe some trolls couldn't. Bjorn certainly hadn’t been able to fight the way that Gunnar could. But their behemoth of a berserker was never best for pursuit, anyway.
They'd lost him just a few battles ago, and Gunnar hadn't fought the same since.
They had been paired together, him and Bjorn, along with his brother Ragnar.
They had all fought in one unit. Bjorn headed straight into the fray while Gunnar picked off the stragglers with his blades.
And then Ragnar had been at their flank, making sure no one attacked them from behind and healing whatever scrapes or wounds they might get along the way.
It had worked perfectly. Until it hadn’t. Until Bjorn had fallen and Gunnar had been so injured that Ragnar had to make an impossible decision.
If Bjorn had been here, he would have teased the two of them for being so fractured. But Gunnar didn't know what to say to his brother. Ragnar had taken it personally. He was the one who had lost Bjorn at the end. He was the one who should have been there when their friend died.
Ragnar always got quiet when he was upset.
Gunnar just wanted to make those responsible pay.
So he hunted down the human who ran from him, breaking away from the ranks of trolls that would have kept him at least a little safer. He wasn’t worried. There weren't enough humans to put up a real fight.
The trolls were picking them off one by one. Soon enough, there would be none left on this mountain and all of humanity would know not to trespass on land that would never be theirs.
He trailed along behind the man, taking his time as the human tried to dart between branches. This soldier was smart. He didn't look over his shoulder to see how close Gunnar was, and that was better than many of the humans killed today.
The branches slapped at his face as he ran.
The human was ducking low, hoping that the branches would hide him from Gunnar.
But Gunnar knew this mountain like the back of his hand.
He knew how to hunt across these lands, when to leap over fallen logs, and how to scale the trees so that no one would ever find him.
This human didn't have any of those talents. He had no idea what hunted him.
Once Gunnar could hear the man's breath sawing in and out of his lungs, once he knew that human was already tasting his own blood, he pounced. His massive body coiled tightly and then lunged as he caught the human by the shoulder and swung him around.
Right into his blade.
Gunnar stood there, staring into the man's eyes. What did he see as death came for him? A massive, green demon having risen from the depths of the earth? Did he fear what he did not understand?
Gunnar said nothing as the man died. Just stood there, allowing the human to hang off his blade until the last second. Only then did he allow the body to slide off and hit the ground with a wet slap.
He didn't know what he expected. Begging, maybe?
Pleading for the forgiveness this soldier should want after all his kind had done to the trolls?
But the soldiers never did that. They merely stared at him in shock.
Their mouths sometimes opened, and he hoped every time that one of them would prove him wrong.
They could say they regretted killing his people.
Perhaps they could beg for his absolution so they could go to whatever god they worshipped without the guilt of murder.
They never did, though. And it was always a disappointment.
He heard footsteps behind him, and whirled to see another troll had come up behind him.
He thought her name was Noma, but he was new to this war band.
After they had lost that last battle, when Bjorn had been taken from them all, there had been a long time of figuring out who was going to fight with whom.
The king had been devastated for all the wrong reasons. Bjorn was part of a long line of fighters who were meant to keep them all safe. His father had died. Now Bjorn was gone. The king had lost a large portion of what had kept them safe.
Noma headed over to him, a human head in her grip. "Are you ready to go?"
He blinked, clearing the rage from his mind, and also the sweat that had dripped into his eyes. "What? Aren't there more of them?"
"Too many. King has recalled us."
"That doesn't make sense. We can take all of them in these woods." Gunnar brushed a hand across his brow. Oh, it wasn’t sweat in his eyes after all. His fingers came away stained red.
"Don't touch your face. You're getting blood in your eyes." She turned around and headed back the way she'd come. "Hurry up. He's sealing the doors, and we won't get back in for another fortnight."
Swearing under his breath, he trailed along behind her, soon breaking into a run as they cleared the trees and headed toward the caverns.
The speed they could run was so much faster than most humans could even track.
He didn't worry about them racing after them.
Why would he? All he had to do was fight through a few them and then duck back into the mountain where the humans could not follow.
But there were many soldiers coming up the mountain. He paused with Noma, both of them staring down the cliff edge to see the massive amount of men with weapons heading toward their home.
"So that's the problem," he muttered before shrugging. "You know, I think we could still kill them all."
"You are optimistic."
"Roll a few boulders down the hill and we'll see how long they last." He mimed the boulders rolling down and then made a few half-hearted screams that he was certain the actual soldiers would hear.
Noma rolled her eyes. "And more will come. We have done what we could. Come on, Gunnar. I'm not getting stuck out here for two weeks. I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight."
He glanced back one last time as they headed out. There was a small group of trolls down there still fighting, but he could see a few in the back were turning to head in their direction. Good enough. They would all get safely back inside and then Ragnar would handle the injured.
The last thing Gunnar wanted was to miss people. He knew what it was like to lose a friend, and Bjorn’s disappearance had given him enough rage to fuel him through many battles. He didn't need another reason to fight.
They both rushed into one of the caverns just before it was closed. The trolls behind the massive stone that would seal it grunted as he headed by. "Ragnar was looking for you."
"Why?"
"Don't know. Said to find you."
Gunnar took a deep breath and nodded. Usually that meant there were more injured than his friend could handle.
Ragnar was good at healing, but the magic in him was a wild type.
It wanted to heal as many people as it could, without ever hesitating to think about what Ragnar could do.
He'd walk off a cliff if someone wasn't with him, guiding him to the next person who needed his help.
The caverns here were more tunnels than giant spaces. Each winding path led toward inner chambers, hidden from anyone who didn't know how to get there. It helped the warriors keep any intruders away from civilians deep within the city.
Besides, no one wanted to see their victorious warriors walking through the streets, bloodied and battle worn.
The king didn't need the fear that would come from such a thing.
He'd asked the fighters to stay hidden and heal themselves, and then they could let others see them.
He wanted to present a united front. Warriors who were never once touched by the terrors of battle.
The dark caverns were almost impossible to see in, but he meandered his way through until he got to the main central area.
It was here that many of the injured would be kept.
Most of the people in Trollveggen believed their war bands were gone for weeks, when in reality they were here.
Waiting to be released so they could see their families.
Countless people were already here. Some of them were injured, but most were all right. He could see a few who had been poisoned, but they were already drinking the antidote that their healers had made.
All of them were covered in blood, though. It was hard to tell who was injured and who had just been victorious in battle. Like he had.
Gunnar wove through all of them, trying to find the sight of his purple-skinned brother who should have been with the other healers. Ragnar was so much more powerful than the rest of them, though. He could heal until he dropped, and the king knew that.
They all had their parts to play, and Ragnar played it with the best of them.