Chapter 4 #2
Finally, he found his brother. Ragnar was wrist-deep in someone's torso, twisting what looked like their intestines back into their stomach while the massive male grimaced in pain.
No use trying to talk with Ragnar then. Not until this was all settled.
He crouched down beside the two of them, surveying the damage with a low grunt. "They got you good with this one."
"I wasn't looking," the troll panted. "The poison is the worst part. Feelings like I've got broken glass underneath my skin."
"I've heard it's like that. At least your intestines will be back where they're supposed to be in just a few moments." Gunnar watched, waiting for the moment when the troll would feel the worst pain.
It was always when Ragnar started sealing the body.
His magic reached whatever he touched. The king thought it could go deeper with the right bride, but for now, Ragnar had to be touching what he was healing.
And that meant all the pain would come back the moment he stopped being able to reach inside the troll's stomach.
At the first hiss of pain, Gunnar snapped his fingers and brought the troll's attention to him. "Who did you fight to become a warrior?"
"Ingvild," he panted.
"She must have been a real shit fighter."
Anger burned the troll's blue cheeks even darker. "She was the best of her kind. Who the fuck are you to question her?"
"You got your stomach ripped out. She should have taught you better than that."
He kept the male spitting mad until his belly was fully sealed. Ragnar leaned back with a sigh, and then rolled his eyes when he saw the anger on the troll's face. "Are you antagonizing my patients again?"
"Keeps them arguing with me and not fighting you, doesn't it?" Gunnar slapped his shoulder and stood. "You'll be all right, friend. Send Ingvild my regards."
"If she doesn't rip you apart herself," the troll grunted as he pressed his hand against his likely aching belly.
Gunnar didn't have any time to give one last retort before Ragnar dragged him away. His friend practically hauled him through the crowd before hissing, "Did you get Tindra?"
"No, she wasn't fighting today."
"She was. I saw her out there fighting. I saw.
.." Ragnar ran a hand through his hair, stopping them on the edge of the crowd.
"She wasn't supposed to be. That entire war band was supposed to be training today.
But they were much lower than us. We were picking off the people who slipped through their wall.
And I thought... I thought I saw her fall. "
Everything went white. The walls. The room. All of it faded away, except for the fear that burned through him.
"No," he said, forcing himself to focus. "Wasn't her. She's safe at home."
"Gunnar, I don't see any of the trolls in their war band here."
"That's because they're all safe at home. They weren't fighting today." He cleared his throat. "They weren't out there with us."
But then he heard a keening cry. One of the troll women who had fought with him nearly every day since he'd been a warrior dropped her head back and screamed. The entire cavern went silent at the sound of her grief.
Then she pointed at the general who stood before her, accusation dripping in every word. "Torvi was not supposed to fight today!"
Torvi.
He'd heard that name before. Tindra had said it a few times, usually in annoyance because the man fought with his emotions and not with his head. Gunnar had listened to her curse the man time and time again.
Then another troll shouted at the general, asking why the other trolls weren't here. Why wasn't Torvi with them now? Where was the war band that had been fighting with no one realizing they had been sent out?
Gunnar’s heart thundered in his ears. It was all he could hear. The steady beat that was getting faster and faster, urging him into movement.
"The tunnels," he said without thinking, and then ran.
Ragnar raced after him, his brother shouting over and over again for him to stop.
But he couldn't. If he could just get to the tunnels, then he could race out to the battlefield and get to her.
The war band was out there on its own. He could fight with them, or help them flee. He couldn't just leave them.
His feet pounded on the stones where so many troll feet had walked before. He ran as though the mountain itself urged him on, and then...
He slammed into the stone that had already been rolled into place. It had been sealed.
"Help me open it," he said, already setting his back against the rock wall and shoving with his arms. "Ragnar, help me open it."
"Gunnar, listen to what is happening outside. We can't open it. The human soldiers cannot find this entrance into the mountain. They don't know any of our entrances. If we open it, that will risk thousands."
"Tindra is out there, Ragnar! Help me open the fucking tunnel!"
His arms strained and his back made a cracking sound. He had to open it though. He could if he just gave it a little more of a push.
Then he heard her. Tindra. The words coming through a small crack that was right next to his head. He could almost see her, but her form was just a shadow blotting out the silver of sunlight that wormed past the stone.
"Gunnar?" she said, her voice loud over the sound of fighting. "Don't open it."
"Tindra, I’m coming for you."
"Don't open it. Save everyone else. You know that's what I want." Another crash, a clang, metal on metal. And then the words that haunted him. "I love you, leafling. Make me proud."
And then she was gone. The sounds of fighting grew louder, then quieter, and Gunnar leaned against the stone for a long time, waiting to see the sunlight again. But he didn't. That shadow stayed right where she had been.
At some point, more trolls came with them. They approached with torches and illuminated the dark space where he waited.
Liquid dripped through the crack. He touched it the same moment something slid out of the way and sunlight emerged once more through the crack. His fingers were stained with blood.
Her blood.
The friend he had never thought he would lose.
Gunnar threw his head back and screamed. He didn’t care if the humans heard him. He didn’t care if he gave up that the trolls were hiding behind this stone. Every part of him that had once been good shattered at the loss of the last person who had loved him.