The Troll's Trove Ch. 38-39

Chapter 38 - Boiling

Jorn peeled his fingers from the frozen haft of his spear. His knuckles hurt. His ears ached. Ice chips blasted his face raw. The wind snapped and tattered the hem of his cloak.

"Sir," Haric yelled, "we've lost the trail."

"Haric, you saw that cabin. The Princess is in danger. We've got to find them."

"We're not going to, Sir. Not up here. Not unless we stumble on their frozen corpses."

Jorn's heart wrung out like a sponge. "Don't say that!"

"Then what do you suggest?" Haric waved at the glaciated peak. "The winds swept everything clean! There are no tracks. Nothing."

"Where's Viggo?"

"Below. Seeing if they turned back down."

"Maybe he's found something."

"Sir, what's the point. We know where they're going. Let's just meet them there."

"Let's see what Viggo has to say. Which way?"

Haric pointed.

Jorn started back down the steep slope. Ice snapped and popped under his boots. The ice was thick enough he did not sink into the snow.

They traveled some ways, nearly a league. Jorn reached Viggo first. "Anything?"

"No. They would've gone down at some point though, once they evaded whoever was after them."

"Who was after them?" Haric asked. "Who'd want to murder the Princess?"

Jorn ground the butt of his spear in the snow. "Any Blackrock sympathizer. I'd say Turls, but he's in prison."

Viggo turned into the wind and hugged himself. "I don't know who, but someone's down there. I can smell the smoke."

Haric stomped his feet. "Then, by Hothr's icy beard, let's get down there too. It's cold."

Jorn turned back to the mountain.

"Hothr's breath, Jorn! Anyone up there is frozen, as we will be too if we don't get down off this peak soon. At least down below we might pierce Nachtlitch's shroud and find out what happened!" Haric yelled into the wind. "It's on the way to Gejsern."

"Haric's right," Viggo said.

Jorn's lips had bowed so far towards his chin his jowls ached by the time the trio dipped below the timber-line. The wind died down but so too did the light. Despite the growing gloom Haric and Viggo kept their path stedily east.

The moon was high overhead when Jorn called a halt. Camp was cold and cheerless. Morning came too soon.

Before the sun was more than a hand-span above the horizon Viggo picked up the trail of the three men that had attacked the Princess at the small cabin they'd found. "Trail's not yet cold. They're not far ahead," he said.

Cold? It's freezing. Aloud, Jorn said, "How far?"

"Tracks are crisp. Snow's not folded into them yet." Viggo looked along the track. "Steady pace. Not running. Not dawdling. I give them a league at most."

"Are you sure it's the same men from the trapper's cabin?"

"We're sure," Haric said. He pointed at one set of tracks. "See how big those are. Not many men have feet that size."

Jorn's glove compressed about his spear-haft. As far as he was concerned, anyone who'd attack a woman, let alone the Princess, deserved to be strung up. He motioned with his head down the trail. Haric and Viggo began to jog. Jorn followed on their heels. He wasn't cold after all, he was boiling inside.

Chapter 39 - Apprehended

T

urls's fist slammed into the tree. A sharp crack of pain lanced up his arm. He whirled on Jokul his mangled face the brilliant red of a fire ant.

"Gudrun's tits, I thought you said-You said we'd pick up their trail!"

The bearish mountain man rounded on Turls. "You want to track little man?"

Turls gripped his wrist where the cursed girl had bitten him. His hand was shaking. Turls entire body was shaking. He leaned in until he was nose-to-nose with the giant man.

"Then where are they?" Spittle flew from his lips.

The big man glowered at Turls, then snorted. He shrugged as he turned his shoulder on the smaller man. He waved a hand at the tracks they'd found.

"What's it matter? They're all going that way."

"And what way is that?" Niles interjected. He hugged himself close and huddled against the wind. He eyed the monstrous troll prints warily. Jokul smirked at the shivering man.

"Gejsern."

Niles jerked. His eyes flew from the tracks to Jokul to the tracks again. His voice squeaked up a few notes.

"Gejsern, you sure?"

Jokul just grunted.

Niles rounded upon Turls. "What's goin' on? You said we'd get the trollop. You said she'd have the horn!"

Turls spat in the snow. "And just where did you think she'd get it?"

Niles face took on a ruddy color. He crowded forward. "This is not what I signed on for! Even if we get the horn, that troll is goin' t' be huntin' us. What, by Lokul's miserable soul, is going on here? Who is she? What's it to you that she gets the horn. You called her Princess. She's not the Princess Princess?"

"Actually," a hard voice said, "she is. And you're going to hang on a gibbet."

Turls whirled. The thrice blighted Whitewall soldier who'd clubbed him with his spear stood not ten paces distant. Two other soldiers were circling their weapons drawn.

"Gudrun's tits, Jorn—" Turls said, "—it is Jorn—" Jorn nodded. "—I'm going to carve you up like I sliced that fool Jannar."

Jorn advanced his spear leveled. "How'd you get out of your cell, Turls?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He hammered Jorn's spear aside with the maul from the trapper's hut. "Witchery. Let's call it witchery."

He reversed the blow and swung the haft for Jorn's head. Jorn blocked. They grappled. Snow pillowed their fall but blinded them as they struggled.

Feet crashed through the snow. Weapons clashed. A soldier swore. Jokul grunted. Niles screamed.

A low vibration thundered through the earth. Turls paused and Jorn's boot landed in Turls's groin. Turls grunted and rolled to his feet. A horrid cramp prevented him from straightening. Turls clutched his gut.

A few paces away Jorn scrambled to his feet. He flicked blood from a laceration on his cheek. His sword rasped as it cleared its sheath.

Turls could not run. His stomach tried to climb out his throat. He gagged.

Behind him the thunder crescendoed. An ear shattering roar swallowed all thought except the primal need to run.

Jorn stared past Turls his sword forgotten. His companions grabbed Jorn and dragged him back. Once moving Jorn sprinted.

Jokul ran as well. Niles bled out in the snow. Turls looked up.

Monster of myth, colossus of the mountains, with arm's thicker than a rowan tree, muscles of glaciated stone, goat beard, broken horn and fist sized molars Raum reared above him.

Visions of another time invaded Turls's mind. King Lorn at his feet. A shaking sword in his hand. Wilhelm's rage. He squeezed his eye shut. Wet heat bit Turls's bruised groin.

Boulder sized fists slammed to the ground on either side of Turls. The earth jumped and Turls staggered. His brain rattled loose of the past. Raum's fists swung up a second time.

Turls ran three paces and slid between bowed, tree-trunk legs. He scrambled to his feet, ducked under a blind backhand and ran.

Turls plunged between trees. Raum smashed into the forest giants. The report of shattered branches chased Turls as he dodged and wove. Trees tore out by their roots. Turls leapt from a small cliff. Raum's thunderous impact nearly threw Turls from his feet. He hurled himself down slope, lengthened his stride and dodged trees.

The crash and snap of winter brittle trees chased upon his heels as Raum battled through the thickets behind him. The woods fought back. Turls gained a pace. Then two. He raced down slides. He scrambled up slopes. The pass to Gejsern drew nearer and, slowly Raum fell behind.

When he dared look back he saw Raum hurling snow, rocks, trees and earth every which direction. It was a hurricane display of strength.

Jokul rejoined Turls.

"Niles?" Turls said.

Jokul pointed back towards the whirlwind of the troll's tantrum.

Turls stared and then spat. No real loss. He rounded on Jokul. "Find me that girl!"