37. Trolleite
Mrath’s return feels like déjà vu. Gods only know how Thorne had been communicating with her while under the mountain, but I don’t press the white-haired assassin.
Estela and I wait for the elven leader outside of Enduvida, flanked by twenty hunters, the mounted Faefurt Assassins, and Thorne himself.
My wife is anxious. Since we’ve started to get word from Ra’Salore and Melisa, the news is dire. Rholker is eradicating humans at an exponential rate, and I just feel…
Helpless.
Mrath rides atop an alce, much like Layla’s, and she wears a crown of thorny twigs that wrap around her temples and elongate her already narrow face. She wears dark green armor, the kind that blends into the fray of the forest but is stark against the snowy mountains.
Behind her, a hundred women come bearing glinting weapons and hungry faces. Some ride bears or wolves, but a great many run. Their elven bodies are strong, used to running for incredibly long distances.
No sooner than they draw a hundred paces, the Faefurt assassins at our sides rear their beasts, thrust their weapons in the air, and let out a series of high pitched calls. It stirs the bones.
They certainly don’t inspire immediate trust, but they are much more lively than their men—I’ll give them that,Estela says in my mind.
I smile down at her glow and press my hand against the small of her back. She leans into the gesture, and a warmth as powerful as the sun itself thaws my insides.
In the moments before our guests approach the entrance, I let myself linger on my dulcet woman. Memories of her whispered late night stories caress my skin. The intimate familiarity between us is as heavenly as any conversation with a god.
It is a taste of all that is good in this life.
“Butcher of the Giants!” Mrath calls out, now close enough to be heard. “I heard you killed thirty giants in under a quarter hour when you retrieved your mate. Well done.”
The name shocks me, for I have been long removed from it. It is not the name cried out in my bedchamber.
Estela steps closer to me, and I raise my head to meet the leader of the Sisterhood’s gaze straight on. “Mrath, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
The clops of her alce come to a halt, and the massive creature lets out a discontented huff of air. Ayla’s own steed lets out a high pitched noise before it kneels before Mrath, bowing.
She sits tall, shoulders perfectly straight and graceful.
“I’m sure it is. I must admit, I am also… contented to know that our meeting this day will not be one of bloodshed. I commend you and your people for making good on our deal.” Her eyes glitter.
There is an undercurrent to our simple words, one that speaks of pain and exacting payment if we had come up wanting.
But we didn’t. Therefore…
“This is my wife, Queen Estela, of the humans and Enduares,” I say.
Estela dips before the assassin, still glowing. Mrath watches her with fascination.
“You look like some heavenly messenger sent to heal us all from our pains. How quaint,” the elf says.
I angle both me and my wife to the side, gesturing to the entrance into our city. Lothar and Vann part for the elven princess to pass. As she slides off of the alce, I watch her feline grace.
We push through the tunnels. Estela and I lead the way, Mrath just after, and all the others following closely behind. A welcoming song has been arranged, and the first notes touch my ears about halfway into the tunnel.
Mrath listens, curious, but does not say anything as she follows past the singers and to one of the bridges—the one that leads to the palace.
I stop before we cross, and turn back to her. “Would you like a tour of our caves, Lady Mrath?”
She surveys the massive cave housing our thriving city. Her green eyes almost glow as she stands near a mushroom that towers over her and bathes her in a bluish, green light.
Her mouth curls at the corners. She turns back to me with precise swiftness. “You honor me with your generosity. I will see the caves once you have shown proof of your mission’s completion.”
I nod and lead her across. We walk up the palace steps, past the fountains, mushrooms, crystals, and statues, and into the viewing room. It feels like it has been so long since I’ve been in this place.
The last time I came here, I met my bride.
I cast a glance up at the mirrors, enjoying the all around view of Estela. Her healthy glow has filled out every part of her, smoothing over the sharp edges and forming her body into something strong and beautiful.
It is my duty to cross to the side room where we keep the diamonds that were once traded with the giants. The light from within pours into the room as the orb gently floats out.
Mrath gasps. She looks like a woman possessed as she is drawn to the godly object. Thorne is close behind her, as are Ayla and the few others who are able to fit into the room.
She grabs something from the small bag at her side and reaches out, murmuring words too low and ancient to understand. In her hands, she holds a necklace made of curved, polished bones. The necklace’s cage gapes open, and the Cumhacht na Cruinne is drawn into it.
Once the light is tucked inside, the light dims, and she snaps the contraption shut. It’s then that I realize it’s a crude version of a skull on the end of a chain. She slips the new pendant over her head, and every one of her subjects watch in rapture.
Her eyes flutter closed as she takes a deep breath, as if she could suck up every molecule of power from the air.
“This is most excellent. You have secured yourself a long, profitable ally in me, King Teo,” she says. “As long as you help me take down my brother.”
I smile. Her pledge fills me with trepidation.
I reach out my hand, which she takes.
“Let us draw up a more official contract then,” I say.
She laughs. “I would be more than delighted after you show me how you all live.”
That is all it takes for the tension between our peoples to ease. I haven’t forgotten what she is or what she’s capable of, but I don’t hate the way it feels to bring her to the forges, or the weaving looms, or the crystal caverns. She is polite and smiles at Estela’s lush plants.
She asks questions, greets human and Enduar alike, and even uses her magic to grow a little thorny flower for Niht when she sees him. That hunter is well-liked by the elves.
Our contract is easy to draw up, as most of the terms have already been discussed multiple times. It isn’t until she asks about our plans to fell her brother and Rholker that I pause. We have spent so much time working on reaching the artifact, and it is hard to accept that we must now plan not one, but two invasions.
“Rholker must die first,” Estela says. Her hand is steady as she points at the battle map before us, and her voice is resolute.
“One could make the case that dethroning my brother would give us even more of an advantage in a battle,” Mrath counters.
I study her unhurried position. “What do you know of Rholker’s court?”
She cocks her head to the side. “I know that the new king faces deep reservations from his court and barely acquired his official title. He has signed a treaty with my brother and it is rumored that he’s tried repeatedly to have the swamp ogres train with his ranks.”
I draw in a deep breath. “Do you know anything of his exact location?”
She purses her lips. “Getting someone that close has been… challenging since the night of the coronation.”
Estela almost looks pleased. “We have sent our own people to infiltrate the ranks. We have not heard from them, but I am confident that targeting Rholker first, while he is still weak, will be a good plan.”
Mrath frowns. “I want my throne.”
Thorne, who sits at her side, utterly still compared to the time he spends away from her, snaps his head over to stare at her.
I don’t know what that action means, but I say, “And you shall have it with my help. But bringing back more humans is of the utmost importance.”
Her eyes trail away from me and to Estela. Then she cocks her head to the side.
“Don’t you have a brother in captivity?”
Estela doesn’t try to hide it. “Yes, but it is not only about that. Rholker will continue to destroy the land we tend. He seeks power, and he is motivated to possess things he shouldn’t want. He needs to be killed before he becomes a tyrant.”
Mrath flicks her wrist. “Kill one tyrant, and another pops up a few centuries later. What’s the point?”
It’s Estela’s turn to look at the woman.
“Then we keep taking them down, for years of peace are worth the pain. And who’s to say if such patterns won’t end?”
Mrath considers this for a long moment. “Well spoken, Human Queen. We will proceed to kill Rholker first, but we will need to know where he is. It’s likely that he is in Zlosa, but acting without assurance is death.”
“Upon that we all agree,” I interject.
The finer details of our plan continue to be ironed out. We will wait for Ra”Salore’s and Melisa’s word, and then we will march. Mrath has offered us one thousand soldiers, but she expects at least two hundred Enduares to fight.
Ner’Feon and Ka’Prinn will be pleased when I tell them of our plans tomorrow.
Once everything is signed and squared away, we move on from the scrolls and memories of war. This night, there is to be a feast, and we all leave to find ourselves in the thralls of revelry.
I siton the edge of the bed as Estela slides a close-fitting purple gown over the curves and contours of her body. There are a series of buttons on the back, which she tries and fails to fasten.
“Come,” I say, my voice rumbling as she perches her pretty, round bottom on my lap. My fingers tease the skin of her spine as I do up each button, but my hands linger on her ass as she stands.
She turns around, somehow shy once again, and then slips into the comfortable slippers she often wears. Her skin glows, as do the lights overhead, and all of them glimmer over the shimmery material of her dress, giving the effect of her being covered in water.
I stand, grabbing the jewels I selected for her off the dresser. I slide rings on her fingers while kissing each of her knuckles, then fasten a necklace around her slender throat, and set a crown with a ruby the size of my thumb upon her head. Its fiery energy reminds me of her, intensifying the brightness of her smile.
She is stunning, and when she smiles, I feel like I would die to keep that look on her face.
“Shall we?” I ask.
The smile grows brighter, and my heart stutters when she slips her hand into my arm.
We walk to Hammerhead Hall, past our bustling city. For the first time in a long time, it is bursting with people.
Flames tall enough to extend over the buildings fly into the air. The pleasing crackle of the fire joins in with the pleasing tunes that pour out of the singers.
When we arrive, the festivities have already begun.
We are greeted warmly, and we go to stand near Mrath. She lounges in one of the chairs, watching as Niht dances rather poorly with Glyni, the elf.
As Estela and I both take the seats at the end of the table, she looks at us and laughs.
“My, aren’t you two a proper couple,” she says, smirking.
Estela smiles, but I see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
“How are you this evening?” she says, conversationally. Politely. All the manners that she has learned with Liana come to the surface in this moment.
Mrath swirls the wine in her cup. I watch it, knowing that it is not something we had under the mountain before her arrival.
“Well enough. Your people are heartier than I remember from my youth.” She takes a long drink. “They wouldn’t let me visit with your kind. My father kept me hidden to ensure that I wouldn’t fall in love with one of you and bring his kingdom to its knees.”
Her eyes go to Estela. “Imagine thinking that one girl’s love could destroy a whole kingdom.”
Estela swallows. “I think love is rather powerful.”
Mrath smirks. “Oh?”
Estela traces the plate that was set out in front of her.
“I’ve seen obsession change an entire court in a matter of months. And I’ve seen love…” she glances at me revealing a bit of her changed heart, however briefly, and it sets my soul on fire. “...change a heart—the stoniest of hearts—in half the time.”
Mrath makes a disgusted sound. “Gods. If this is how the trolls always were, I’m glad I was sequestered in my room.”
I cross my hands, smiling. “Do you not wish to dance? Your women seem to enjoy it immensely.”
All of our gazes turn back to the drunken joviality around the fire. The women have linked arms, kicking out their legs and chanting in time with the singers.
The elf twins, Farryn and Elanila, grab a cloak from one of their sisters. They’ve been with us since we retrieved Estela and have proved to be valuable trainers.
Everyone watches as they theatrically wave the fabric in the air in front of Niht, a true friend of the elves it seems. Seconds later, when they drop the cloak he runs behind one of the beams as if they had performed some great magic.
Younglings, whom I can’t remember allowing at this party, scream with delight, and all of the elvish women howl with palpable mirth.
Estela huffs out a disbelieving laugh. Thorne, who has taken a seat next to Mrath, looks over at my wife, immensely amused. The joke is too simple, ridiculous, and not something I would expect from a group of murderess women. I can’t help but laugh as well.
“Yes, well, women are peculiar, marvelous creatures,” Mrath starts, as if needing to explain her sisters.
Whatever she was going to say next is cut off by the sound of slow clapping.
It precedes the thick, black mist that curls across the ground.
Mrath and I bolt to our feet, turning to the source of the sound as the music stops, and the laughing is silenced.
Three women stand in the entrance to the open hall wearing black cloaks and gowns. Their hoods are down, revealing painted faces, dark hair, pale skin, and black eyes.
Estela stands, pushing away from the table despite the way I reach for her.
“Dahlia?” she says loudly.
The women turn to look at her.
The one who leads the small group has a snake that curls around her throat, licking at the side of her face. I see the rounded, human ears and realize that these must be the witches who tortured my mate.
“Essstela,” the snake hisses.
“Daughter of the Light Weaver,” the woman says. “I am not Dahlia, she is still at the Giant King’s side. My name is Syra.”
“What are you doing here?” Estela demands, back straight. The glow emanating off her grows brighter in warning.
If the women notice, they don’t show it.
“When we met in the giant’s home, we offered to let you come with us if you would leave these Enduares behind,” she says slowly with that haunting voice.
“I refused you,” Estela says. I feel her pained rage through our bond. When I was faced with the memories of Lijasa, I was a mess, but her? She stands strong.
“It was the wrong choice. Dahlia has decided to extend an invitation once more. This time in exchange for your brother’s life,” she says.
Estela stands there, frozen. Everyone watches the exchange, but I see the parents discreetly hiding their children behind them.
Good.
When they mention the giant court, I deeply regret that we haven’t heard from Melisa and Ra”Salore. Their information would be very useful in talking about Rholker.
“What do you want from me now?” Estela says.
“What we have always wanted,” the woman says. “We came to King Erdaraj to have your mother. When he would not release her, despite his promises, we thought all hope was lost. That is, until you came here, and your magic was… awoken. We seek your light.”
This time, it is me who interjects.
“Why?”
The women turn to us. “Our master demands it.”
“And just who is your master?” Mrath calls at my side, her hand already sliding some hidden weapon out of her trousers.
“We will not share that. Our time grows short. My sisters help Rholker even as we speak, but what is done can yet be reversed. Give yourself over to us, and we will end this all.” The cavern seems to darken. “We will spare this cave, your king, even the children. Rholker will die where he stands. The war will be over. Stop the bloodshed, king. Save your meager court.”
Another, not Syra, sniffs the air.
A fraction of my mate’s mind opens, and I watch her consider it.
No,I tell her. Don’t give in to their lies.
Teo, it’s a chance to end everything.
“One of you has made an agreement with us before. May they come forward, and vouch for our honesty!”
I wait for someone to approach. None do. I write it off, focusing my attention back on my mate.
Estela,I plead. They only want to use you. If you go with them, they’ll break your mind and abuse your power. Don’t give in.
She takes a step forward, and I prepare to run to her. Then, she turns and looks at me. I see the grief written across her face, and how her eyes are filled with tears.
I don’t want anyone else to die. I can stop it. I have spent the last sixteen years of my life planning for one thing—saving Mikal. I haven’t looked beyond that point… until I met you. You forced me to think of life past ensuring his escape. I love you both. You are my world. If saving both of you means going with them, I will do it.
No. You might save us today, and then kill us tomorrow.
“Take another step toward my fucking wife, and I’ll slice your head off your shoulders, witch!” I shout.
It works to get her attention off her. I only need a moment.
“Be careful how you speak to us, troll,” Syra snarls. She holds out her hand, and a ball of dark energy swirls in her palm.
Please, my love. Think of all the things waiting for us. If you go, you will never come back. If you stay, then we can fight to have every wish our heart desires. You’ll be free, you’ll see Mikal again. We’ll have children, and a life after pain.
“Well, Essstela? We grow impatient.”
My words latch onto her mind, so I keep feeding her images from the past. I show her how I’ve pictured how our family will look.
I can feel her will swinging back toward me.
But she says, Love is selfless.
Please, you are allowed to be a little selfish, I say. Stay with me, my star. Don’t let yourself become something evil.
“I—I will not go.”
Relief floods my senses, a gentle wave of calm amidst the silent gazes of the women. Wisps of mist unfurl from the earth, carrying with them a whispered utterance from Mrath—vaimpír.
The cold ones. A shiver dances down my spine as I clasp my beloved closer, their words lingering in the air like an ominous premonition.
As the mist retreats, a haunting sight emerges before us—a horde of chilling undead materialize into view. Their pallid forms mostly bare, adorned only by midnight-black locks and eyes that gleam like polished onyx. Without hesitation, the Enduar men and elvish women spring into action, brandishing otherworldly blades with fluid grace. Some engage the creatures head-on while others shield the defenseless in a frantic bid for safety.
In a moment of urgency, I reach for a weapon nearly forgotten, just as Vann appears by my side. The ground beneath us trembles with my resolve echoing through it like thunder. Never again will they steal my love away. And so it is that my fury summons forth molten rage from below, the lava answering my call.
Vann”s cleaver strikes true against one of the vaimpírs lunging towards me, its impact resounding with grim finality. As its head rolls free from its shoulders with a sickening thud, Thorne and Mrath swiftly dispatch another assailant that dares to encroach upon us. Soon enough, the air is thick with the acrid stench of ebon blood.
Embracing my wife protectively, she pushes me away determinedly before seizing a blade meant for food rather than foe. With practiced precision born from Svanna”s tutelage, she drives the knife deep into the vaimpír”s heart. A cascade of viscous black ichor spills out as her treacherous deed unfolds before wide-eyed witnesses.
”Traitor,” gasps the fallen witch before dissolving into wisps of smoke at Estela”s handiwork. As others attempt to aid her, Estela”s radiance intensifies to searing brilliance. Those who dare draw near recoil in agony as charred remnants mingle with tainted blood.
The Fuegorra blazes incandescently across our battleground, banishing shadows and confusion alike. Its fiery touch weakens our frigid adversaries” defenses, rendering them vulnerable to our blades” merciless onslaughts. With unwavering determination, Estela wrenches the knife free from one fallen foe and pivots to meet another”s advance with lethal precision.
My bride screams. It’s an awful, tortured sound. I yank the snake off of her leg and slice it in half as it tries to curl around her calf. It hisses and steams as it falls to the ground in pieces.
Estela quivers. The magic in her chest flickers and dims.
“What’s wrong?” I demand, drawing her into my arms.
She looks up at me.
“I—I…” Her speech is broken by her panting.
Her eyes squeeze shut against the paralysis.
“My star,” I say, panicked as the light flickers.
But then, just as swiftly as the light disappeared, it glows back to life.
It isn’t the gradual dawn, sneaking over the mountains. It is lightning slicing through the sky. All at once, it blows me back. It smashes the tables and chairs and cracks the walls. It is not the Enduares or elves that suffer the effects of the blow; it is the undead creatures.
Under this burst of power, they dissolve.
Like lightning, the brilliant light fades, and Estela lies on the ground several paces away from me.
As I approach, I look down and see a pattern around her body, etched in the stone beneath our feet.
Like rays of sunlight.
I suck in a breath, and her eyes drag open.
“My Queen!” a voice calls, followed closely by the sound of stirring all around the room. In a second, Arlet is at her side.
“Estela,” she cries, shaking her shoulder.
I move in protectively, not wanting any part of her body jostled. “Arlet,” I say with a demanding tone.
Others circle around us, and I can scarcely bear to reach out and check for a pulse. Her chest doesn’t rise or fall.
She doesn’t move.
My sunlight…
Tears slip down my face. I put my hand on her cheek.
And her eyes snap open.
A collective sigh burns through everyone in the room. I look over to see the elves gazing in wonder.
My mate pushes up and winces.
“Is everyone all right?”
Her eyes find me first, and the glow returns to her body.
It is a primal pleasure to see that it is my face that heals her, that she is moved by my presence.
“Yes,” Vann says to the side. Others agree.
I slide my hand around her, helping her to stand.
Everyone gazes on her in wonder.
“We are safe now,” I say to her. “You saved us.”
She looks around the room, surprised. I grin.
It’s Mrath who steps forward, her face reverent and thoughtful.
“This morning, I promised you one thousand of my finest women.” Her eyes take in my mate, clearly in awe. “Make it two.”