Chapter 6
Six
Gunnar
Gunnar perched on top of a roof, trusting the darkness to hide him from the prying stares of the people who walked beneath him. There were plenty of humans on the streets, but they never looked beyond the glowing orange lights that illuminated their steps.
The people in this kingdom were never aware of their surroundings. They were so stuck in their routines, following the same paths every day, seeing the same people, that they never even considered there might be any deviance.
Like a troll lurking above them.
He crouched on the slatted shingles, his claws digging into the shards of stone that kept him locked in place. This had been a long time coming. Years, in fact. But finally, after all this time, he was going to have the final piece in a puzzle he'd spent a long time trying to put together.
This home belonged to a nobleman who had been very busy in the black market. He'd been buying up all the items he could get related to trolls. Jewelry. Spells. Even little bits and bobs that were children's toys at best.
Gunnar was here for one reason though, and that was for this man's newest acquisition.
He'd finally bought something that the trolls simply could not allow him to have.
King Egil knew better than to send someone who would bludgeon their way into the house or dig through the basement and make it painfully obvious who had stolen from this nobleman.
No, when something like this happened, he sent Gunnar. Silent, smaller, quicker Gunnar, who could slip in and slip out unnoticed.
The king should have known better in this situation. Because Gunnar had absolutely no plan on getting in and out quietly. Not from this house. He had a vendetta, and he planned to make sure the debt this nobleman owed him was paid in blood.
He waited until the right moment, when the lights guttered as the candles within them burned low. Someone would return soon enough with a new candle and a ladder, but until then, darkness hid his lithe form as he climbed down the wall of the building and entered through a window.
The home was quiet. Everyone was fast asleep in the depths of the house, all of them tucked into their beds without a single idea that a monster had just crawled into their midst.
He stayed low, crouched on the floor so no outside light would catch him from the windows as he moved through the building.
First, he would get to the storeroom where he knew the artifact was kept.
Then he would find the nobleman's bedroom, and he would make him bleed.
He couldn't get a scream out of the man like he wanted, but he absolutely could make the villain pay in silence for all the pain he had wrought.
The house was full of plush carpeting, likely because this building was very old and the nobleman was just as ancient as the stone that surrounded him.
He must’ve felt the cold worse than most. The thick carpets beneath Gunnar’s bare, clawed feet hid the sound of him moving stealthily through the shadows. No one would be the wiser.
He reached for the first door, gently nudging it open and praying the hinges were well oiled. They were, thankfully. And he looked inside to see the room was one of the nobleman’s daughters, stuffed to the brim with toys that surrounded the little girl in a pile on the bed.
Gunnar didn't want her to wake. The last thing he needed was a child terrified of the monster she had always known was beneath her bed. He pulled the door shut quietly and went down to the next.
This entire house was full of people, it seemed. That made things infinitely more complicated. How many little girls were in this house? There seemed to be ten of them, but he had heard the man was prolific. How he had enough funds to care for them all, Gunnar had no idea.
Finally he got to the rooms that were clearly more private. There was a library, which was not what he wanted. A study with a warm, crackling fire still rolling inside of it, and servants' quarters that were meager at best, mostly barren. Everyone remained asleep.
Finally, he got to the old man's collections, which were numerous.
Gunnar slipped into the room filled with glass cases and then closed the door silently behind himself.
He stretched out his back as he moved through what looked like a small museum that the old man had set up.
Really, it would have been impressive if it wasn't so repulsive.
There was a little hat on one stand that had once part been of a child's festival outfit.
The next was a small knife that they usually kept in their boots, truly an interesting item to collect, and he wasn't sure how the man had gotten that.
A small toy that was in the shape of a rock had been leaned against a stand so a viewer could see that it opened to reveal the gemstones inside.
The walls were covered with framed pieces of clothing that trolls had once worn.
Some of them even had the bloodstains still on them from when the troll had lost their life.
One corner had a full set of armor on what looked like a wooden frame so someone could stand beside it and see how large the troll had actually been.
It was all insane. All of it.
His heart hammered in his chest, his guts twisting as he looked over everything that was here. So many lives. So many trolls had died to make this masterpiece, this showcase, all displayed in a human man's house because he'd been interested in knowing what the trolls were like.
Gunnar forced himself to stay at least somewhat calm as he headed toward the back room. What he looked for wasn't in here, so it must not have been catalogued yet for "viewing."
The back room was significantly less organized, and the clutter was distracting.
There was so much here that he could steal and return to the families who were likely still looking for all these pieces.
The jewelry that had meaning. Necklaces that had dotted the necks of beloved trolls, and piercings that had signified all their wondrous deeds.
But then he found it. He didn't know why the artifact would be within the simple wooden box that had been tucked away on a shelf, but he knew it was there.
Hands shaking, he reached for it and gently lifted it off the shelf.
Gunnar pried the lid open with a single claw, and tears blurred his vision as he saw the bones within.
They made up just a single finger. The pointer finger of a troll who had used that hand to brush his hair when he was little and shown him wondrous sights as she’d pointed for him to notice the world around him.
He grabbed the bones and let the box fall to the floor. Too loud. Louder than he should ever have let it be. But this was Tindra, and he had finally found the last piece of her.
"I'm here with you," he whispered as he placed her bones into the pocket attached to the leather strap wrapped around his chest. She would be safe there.
And he would take her home.
The door to the room clicked shut, and he knew he’d been spotted. Baring his tusks in a snarl, he whirled around with blades already in his hands. He didn't think; he moved.
Gunnar darted forward with speed no one his size should be able to have, pinning the human against the wall with force that knocked the air from their lungs. His twin blades were crossed over their neck, and one small movement from him would sever their head from their shoulders.
The dark-haired woman he had pinned to the wall stared up at him with wide eyes. There was fear in them, yes, because she had to know that he could kill her without even the slightest hesitation. But there was hope, too.
He could smell it on her. The excitement, the fear, and the urgency that she was in the right place at the right time.
"Troll," she whispered. "I've been hoping someone of your talents would stop by."
"Death," he said. "That is all you will get from me."
"I'm certain of it. But before you put an end to my miserable existence, I beg you to listen to me. I need help."
He tightened his grip on his blades. Gunnar didn't like killing women or children. It went against every part of what made trolls... trolls. They valued the lives of women, even if they were disgusting humans.
He'd known a lot of trolls to go against that. Particularly ones forced into marriage with the barbaric and animalistic creatures. They always ended up hating the humans a little more, and it was hard to control that hatred with they were forced to lie with them.
Even this woman, with all her curves on display, didn't tempt him in the slightest. Perhaps that was her plan. Distract him with the black nightgown she wore, so sheer he could see the dotting of freckles on her skin and the dark hair between her legs.
"I don't have time for this," he snarled.
Gunnar would have cut off her head if her hands hadn't clutched his wrists. Desperation laced her touch, and it made him hesitate just enough.
"My friend," she said. "I have been missing my friend for seven years and I need you to look for her. You are uniquely qualified to do so."
"Find her yourself."
"I have heard of you," she said, once again desperate.
"The troll that takes back what we stole from your people.
It's said you are like a shadow that moves through homes.
No one has ever heard you, seen you, or can speak your name without summoning you.
You are the only one who can get her back if any of that is true. "
He knew what it was like to lose someone who mattered. His heart broke for her. It really did. But he had to go.
"I have my mission," he replied. "It sounds as though you have your own."
Gunnar moved to let her go. He hadn't wanted to kill an innocent woman today anyway. He dropped his blades, and she didn't let go of his wrist, holding him as though she were desperate.
"My name is Cassandra. If you happen to find her in any of the noblemen's houses, you can't miss her. She's so pretty. So small. Hair nearly white as snow. I don’t know where they brought her, but she has to be with someone of great importance. They wouldn’t give her to anyone else.
" She was rambling, but desperate people did that.
He started past her, heading out into the room with all the rest of the artifacts. If she wasn't quiet, she was going to wake up the entire house. His reputation would be ruined if that happened. Although he had to admit, he was a little proud he had a reputation at all.
Gunnar had spent years doing this—breaking into people's homes, moving alongside them while they were asleep, and taking what they had bought from black-market sellers. Apparently humans wanted to make up stories about him. Legends.
He'd give them more to talk about if he had it his way. But for now, he had what he’d come for. If she left, then he could sneak back to the nobleman’s bedroom and be done with this.
"Please!" the woman almost shouted, and he froze.
Someone had definitely heard that.
Furious, he turned on her. "Shut up," he hissed. "You cannot wake everyone like this. I need to get to your nobleman, and I need him dead."
Her face bled of all color. "You don't kill. You don't come into houses and kill anyone."
"This time I do."
He headed for the door, not even pausing when she asked, "Why?" He didn't stop when she let out a groan of rage either.
But he was forced to stop when she threw herself between him and the exit.
Snarling, Gunnar slammed his forearm against the door above her head.
Someone already would have heard the bang of her body, and he might as well wake the rest of them up since she'd ruined his plan.
"Your master led the raid that killed my dearest friend and many other trolls.
He brought poison and blades up our mountain, and then he took her body.
He chopped it up with the rest of those soldiers you all worship, did unspeakable things to her, and then sold all the bits and pieces off.
He doesn't even know the finger I took was hers. "
She was little more than a pale, trembling wraith. Clearly his words affected her. She didn't like what her people had done to him.
But then her trembling lips parted, and she rambled again. "She's blonde. So small you could miss her in any house. But the king took her years ago. I don't know if she'll even recognize her own name. I know what the king does to people like her. She... she..."
The woman stopped talking when he put his hand over her mouth. "I am a Bone Keeper," he said, patting the pouch at his chest. "I recover bodies and I bring them home to their families, Cassandra. I do not find the living. Only the dead."
He took a step back from her, holding up his hands for silence.
Though he wished to spill this nobleman's blood and watch all the crimson stain this beautiful floor, he knew his time was running out.
He could hear them all in their bedrooms. Quiet voices calling out to each other to make sure everyone was all right and that they were where they were supposed to be.
He'd return someday. He'd draw his knives on the man who had killed Tindra, and he would take his revenge.
But that day was not today. Because he had her bones. He could put her body back together and then he could place her in their burial ground, whole as she always should have been.
He backed away further as someone knocked on the door. A stern voice said, "Who's in there?"
The gig was up. Gunnar adjusted his grip on his blades, bringing them up and at the ready for whatever waited for him on the other side of the door.
But Cassandra shook her head at him and pointed to the only window in the room. "It's just me! I heard a noise and came to see what it was."
The door handle moved, jiggling as someone tried to enter. "Cassandra? Why are you blocking the door?"
Go, she mouthed at him, gesturing again.
And then a whisper, “Her name is Rose.”
Gunnar had the strange experience of a human saving his life. He might have lived. He'd certainly fight with every ounce of strength in him. But a single troll against many guards was bound to lose.
Instead, he heard her continue arguing with the man on the other side of the door as he opened the window, swung his leg out, and landed in the shadows of the street below.