8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
“ T his discussion is not over,” Asheros promises, eyes blazing.
“Yes, it is,” I counter, matching his scowl with one of my own. It never should have begun , I think to myself dryly. Letting him, my enemy, see my weakness…
I can only imagine what Ceren would say.
He growls in protest, nostrils flaring. “Bladesinger—”
I shove past him and out of the tent, using the rope that binds us together to drag him out with me. I expect him to keep arguing with me, but then I see what’s riling up the horses and completely forget what Asheros and I were arguing about.
Eyes widening, adrenaline takes hold of my body. A troll nearly triple my height stands with its back facing us. Long clumps of murky hair fall from the creature’s head, clinging to its back. And, gods, the smell? The creature’s rancid odor hangs in the night air. Bent over the horses, it picks one up and slings it over its shoulder.
Letting out a distressed cry, the horse wriggles, trying to get away, but is effectively trapped. Its hooves scratch against the troll’s damp skin while it attempts to kick itself free.
Father’s stories are… true. Creatures of myth truly live in these woods.
“Gods be damned,” Asheros murmurs, taking in the sight.
“Gods be damned is right,” I mumble.
The others emerge from their tents, weapons drawn and at the ready.
“Hey,” Ronan yells, eyes wild with outrage. “Hands off our horses.”
The troll roughly drapes another horse over its other shoulder and then slowly turns around to face us. Crinkled, leathery skin stretches across a large, pointed nose and a round face while beady, black eyes sweep over us.
Its mouth parts into a grin that makes my skin crawl, revealing jagged, yellowed teeth. The troll steps forward, cocking its head slightly as if evaluating its next meal.
“You’re the troll expert, Bladesinger,” Asheros says, not once taking his focus off the beast. “How are we to deal with this?”
“Uh…” I swallow. My instincts are telling me to fight, but I’m still without my blades.
Think, Lymseia.
Clenching my jaw, I recall one of Father’s stories.
“A troll will eat you at the first glimmer of opportunity,” Father had told Vestella and I by the fire one winter night. “But if you can delay it long enough, until the sun rises, it’ll turn to stone.”
“Won’t the troll know the sun’s rising?” I had asked. “Won’t it run away?”
“It will want to eat you too much, you see,” Father had answered with a knowing look. “So much so, it will not realize dawn has come until it’s far too late.”
“We have to stall,” I say, raising my voice so the others can hear. “Judging by the moon’s height, it won’t be long until sunrise.”
“Stall?” Disbelief colors Savell’s words. “That’s the best we can do?”
Sharing Savell’s bewilderment, Orim raises both of his brows.
“Do you have an obsidian blade?” I demand.
“No.” Savell sighs.
“Then you’ll never cut through a troll’s skin deep enough to do any real damage,” I say, keeping my eyes trained on the beast.
“Seriously?” Orim asks.
“Seriously,” I shoot out, moving backward to put more distance between myself and the creature. “Try not get eaten, will you?”
“Eaten?” Ronan’s voice rises to a screech. “What do you mean, try not to get eaten ?”
“You heard her,” Asheros bellows, silencing him immediately. “Do as she says.”
Ronan clamps his mouth shut. Orim takes a breath and readies his sword. I inhale deeply through my nose, clearing my mind. When I exhale, I hone my focus on the troll. If I had any weapons on me, this would be the time when I’d adjust my grip, so they’re comfortable in my hands.
The troll lunges for me. Its long arms swing low, fingers extended. Ready to crush me in its grasp.
I extend my knees to jump out of the way, but not a second too late, Asheros pulls me to his body. Shadows erupt around us the moment he tightens his grip on my waist, and we jerk backward.
The troll clasps its fists around thin air and, not realizing it failed to catch me, immediately brings its hands to its open mouth. The creature gnashes its teeth, as if to chew, but frowns when it realizes its mouth is empty. Dribbles of saliva run from the corners of its lips, teeth bared in rage.
It sweeps its arms again, wildly grabbing for any living thing it can take hold of. One of the horses bucks its hind legs, and it slides forward, freeing itself. Shaking its head, the troll swivels its gaze from us, directing its attention to the others .
As long as we’re cloaked in Asheros’s shadows, it can’t see us.
Savell, Ronan, and Orim keep their distance from the troll, using their swords to slash at its hands when it gets too close.
“Come here, ya big lug!” Gryska charges with her axes but stays far enough away from the troll’s grabbing hands.
Releasing arrow after arrow, Kheldryn stays light on her fee. The first hits its mark, the tip embedding into the troll’s shoulder. The beast lets out a groan but doesn’t slow down. The second arrow lands, puncturing its belly the way a thorn would.
The troll lets out a fierce roar. Unlike the first arrow, the second only seems to make it more enraged.
“I have an idea,” I tell Asheros, thinking quickly. Combat instincts thud in my ribcage, and the impulse to do something overpowers any hint of caution I feel. “How far does the cover of your shadows extend?”
“A few feet, without over-extending myself,” he says, slowly. Suspicion tightens his mouth. “Why?”
I hold up my wrists. “I need you to cut these ropes. Now.”
Hardening his jaw, he stares at me for a moment. Then he glances at the troll, at Savell, Ronan, Orim, and Gryska’s panicked attempts to stay out of the creature’s reach.
Kheldryn fires more arrows. None seem to do any more than annoy the troll.
Asheros’s eyes flick back to me. “Tell me that idea of yours first.” A demand.
I can’t say I blame him.
“If we can make it until dawn, the sunrise will turn the troll to stone.” I look at the creature and then meet Asheros’s gaze. “If you can shield us with your shadows, then we can distract it without being seen.”
He tilts his head forward as though to prompt me for more explanation.
“Trolls are brainless, but they have innate magic like the metals,” I say. “Your shadows can’t extend far enough to cloak everyone, and even if you could, you said yourself you’d exert too much strength to keep it up for very long. But if I can get close enough without being seen, the troilite cuff around my wrist might make it dizzy.”
His stare narrows. “I need to cut the rope for this plan to work?”
Raising my hands, I pull at the rope securing me to him. “It’s going to be much harder for me to move freely if you’ve got me on a leash.”
He straightens his mouth. “What assurances do I have that this isn’t just a ploy to escape?”
“None.” I stare him down. Though I have no plans to leave until I’ve discovered all I can on his plans, he doesn’t need to know that. “But you don’t have many options.”
Muscles work at his jaw and flex with tension. He doesn’t have a better alternative, and he knows it.
“Fine,” he says at last, with a long sigh. He pulls a silver dagger from his waistband, one that I didn’t know he had, and slips it beneath my rope bindings.
Is this the silver object he uses to channel and conjure his shadows?
I take note of that information for later use. Rubbing the rope marks from my wrists, I avert my gaze. “Thank you.”
“Don’t make me regret this, Bladesinger,” he grumbles.
“No promises,” I sling back.
Lips tugged up in something just short of a smirk, Asheros rolls his eyes. “How dare I assume otherwise.” Then, a calm stillness centers him and straightens his mouth. “I’ll move at your command, Captain.”
I nod, the amusement immediately falling from my expression. Strict focus snaps into place, and all thought slips from my mind. The shadows surrounding us reduce my visibility, but I can still make out what lies ahead well enough to act on it.
The troll continues its attempts to grab onto one of the others, huffing in annoyance each time it misses. Kheldryn gracefully increases the distance between herself and the creature, taking long strides backward. Gryska lets out a fierce cry and swings both of her battle axes, one after the other. Light on their feet, Savell and Ronan dodge the troll’s curled fingers, and Orim circles the creature from behind.
“Too slow,” Ronan shouts.
“Over here,” Savell taunts.
“Yoo-hoo,” Orim hollers .
The troll bellows, a mangled and guttural sound. When it shifts forward, the remaining horse slips off of the troll's shoulder and lands on its side, letting out a whine.
“We move now,” I say to Asheros.
Keeping my focus on my target, I lower my stance and slowly move forward with my knees bent. To my left, Asheros does the same, mirroring my form. In his left hand, the one that’s farthest from me, he keeps a tight, but flexible grip on his dagger.
We advance, treading carefully while Savell, Ronan, and Orim continue provoking the troll. And thank the gods, the troll takes the bait. Its movements become more agitated and uncontrolled, losing any semblance of pattern or predictability.
Gritting his teeth, Asheros shakes his head slightly, mouth curved in disapproval. Under his breath, he whispers, “They’re going to get themselves killed.”
“Then let’s not waste time,” I mutter, keeping my focus on the troll.
He nods. Staying in line with one another, we move forward until we’re positioned on either side of the troll, less than an arm’s length behind it. Glancing at me, Asheros brings his dagger to the troll’s skin, but doesn’t make contact. Unwavering, he keeps his eyes on me, as if waiting for my command.
“Now?” he mouths to me.
I take a breath and still my mind. We only get the element of surprise once.
“Now,” I mouth back, working to over emphasize the syllable.
Without a second’s hesitation, Asheros jabs his dagger into the troll’s side.
The beast lets out a terrible shriek. Thrashing its head, the troll whirls around, desperately clawing for whatever being is to blame for the shallow wound.
It comes dangerously close to Asheros.
Panic jolts through me. Not the panic of a soldier in battle, or the onlooker of a tragedy. No, this is the panic of someone who cares deeply. Of someone who would throw themselves into the fire for another, even if it meant they would die slowly.
“Look o—” I throw a hand over my mouth to keep quiet.
Asheros darts back, just barely avoiding the troll’s fist. Seemingly unaware of my presence, the troll swipes for him again, missing a second time. I’m lucky that my misstep a moment ago didn’t give away my position—that means I can still move around unseen.
I lunge forward, pounding both of my fists into the troll’s other side. The creature roars, twisting its frame around again. I leap back several paces. The troll closes its fist around nothingness, letting out a violent rush of air through its grotesque, misshapen nostrils.
Asheros furrows his brows, tension working at his jaw. The distance between us has grown, spanning more than a few feet. Eyes widening, I look down at my hands. The troilite cuff stings my skin, and the shadows enveloping me have thinned to form a translucent layer around me.
My cover.
It’s gone.
The troll pauses. Saliva dripping from its jagged, yellow teeth, its eyes narrow with deadly purpose.
And I have its undivided attention.
“Well, shit,” I curse.
From the outskirts of my vision, I see worry deepen the crease in Asheros’s brow.
The troll makes a move for me. But thank the gods, I’m faster. Taking quick breaths, I dodge its burly arms and hands. Thunder roars in my veins, pure adrenaline powering my movements. My thighs burn from having my knees bent for so long, but the pain merely fades into the background.
The troll seems to have forgotten about Asheros.
But Asheros doesn’t forget about the troll. He darts forward, practically throwing himself into the chaos.
“Have you no common sense? Get out of here,” I cry out to him and the others.
I glance over my shoulder to where the rest of our group watches, looking unsure of what to do next. Savell and Ronan stand with most of their weight balanced on one foot, as if they’ll take off running in the opposite direction at any moment. Orim remains at the ready, looking to Asheros for his next command. Kheldryn stands perfectly still, bow strung, her fingers hovering by the arrow’s nock.
Gryska tightens her grip around her hand axes, leaning forward as though she’s about to charge at the troll head-on. “Don’t worry, I can take him.”
“Leave,” I shout. “Now.”
“If you think you can be rid of me that easily, Bladesinger,” Asheros throws back, “then you’re not as quick-witted as I thought.” That smirk plays at his lips, attempting to mask the sweat beading across his forehead.
I drop to my feet. The troll’s arms crash together above my head, and I roll forward, just out of its reach.
Asheros’s shadows dissipate. Light on his feet, he lunges forward and then ducks to avoid being hit by the troll, who rears its hand back in preparation of another strike. When it’s about to make another move for me, Asheros—that gods-damned idiot—jumps upward, hooking his arms over the troll’s shoulder.
Slow to realize this, the troll raises its hand to grab me, suspending Asheros in the air, his legs dangling over the creature’s arm at least twelve feet above the ground. The troll turns to him, anger clouding its face, and shakes its limb like it’s trying to free itself from a parasite.
Savell and Ronan charge at the beast. Orim doesn’t hesitate to follow. Mirroring Asheros, Ronan does the same to the troll’s other shoulder, clinging to it like a pest. The troll bellows, its efforts to shake them off becoming more haphazard and savage. Meanwhile, Savell and Orim take turns poking the troll’s belly with their swords, inciting the creature further.
If escape was my goal, this chaos would provide the perfect cover. Asheros is too busy battling the troll, as are the others. But even if my goals hadn’t changed, would I run? Would I abandon them?
I find myself frozen in place.
No. Even with my instincts blaring to run, I wouldn’t move.
Asheros’s attention locks on me, further immobilizing me. He bares his teeth in concentration, brows furrowed slightly, and then shadows close in around me. The troll, too preoccupied with ridding itself of Asheros, Ronan, Savell, and Orim, barely notices.
My breath quickens and my brows draw together. Asheros’s shadows protected me. Not himself. Not the others.
Why? Why hide me and not himself?
It doesn’t matter.
What matters is that I act.
I don’t waste another second and grab the nearest branch I can find. It pales in comparison to my blades, but for now, it will do.
I lift the branch over my head, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet. Squinting, I stop, raising a hand over my eyes.
The morning sun peeks over the tree line.
It’s about gods-damned time.
The troll’s eyes widen in realization, and its efforts to shake Asheros and Ronan loose become increasingly more frantic. The two fae males grimace and grit their teeth, doing all they can to hold on.
Slowly, starting from the outskirts of its body and moving toward its center, the troll’s leathery skin hardens, turning gray. As if it’s moving through hardening mud, the creature’s movements slow, audible cracks sounding through the woods. The troll gives one last cry, the stone eating away at the last remaining parts of its face, leaving its mouth wide open.
Letting out long, tired exhales, Asheros and Ronan relax and let their bodies go limp—save for their arms and hands, which still grip the troll’s now-stone arms.
Gracefully, they lower themselves down and let go, feet landing softly on the forest floor.
Kheldryn, Savell, and Ronan let out sighs of relief, while Orim and Gryska raise their arms to slap each other’s palms with whoops of laughter.
“Well,” Asheros announces, brushing his hands against his leather pants. He looks at me. “That was quite the spectacle, wasn’t it?”