Season of Bloom - 4. Trobold in Trouble

The troll and the kobold stared at each other in surprise. Small, quick steps brought Kiba between the troll and the body, his blade raised defensively. The beast was at least three times his size, but he had his orders, and he was not going to let the troll touch the blanket.

“Meat, why you no at home?” the troll asked in broken Draconic, and Kiba nearly dropped his sword.

He had heard of kobolds working with trolls, working with the very beasts that would eat them. There was no shortage of exiles from his very own tribe who flocked to the banner of a mysterious King Tartuk, claiming a new way of life was at hand, but he never thought it was any more than fanciful rumours. This… this was appalling.

“Not my home. My home is Sootscale,” he announced proudly, raising his blade. “Leave this place or I will end you.”

“You no understand Trobold,” the troll frowned, stepping toward him.

The blade hissed through the air, cutting a thin line into the troll, and he bellowed in rage.

“Meat done it now. Jazon eat meat!” he snarled, reaching for the kobold.

Kiba yelped, darting between the troll’s legs. His sword slashed up, the troll bellowing in agony as his loincloth erupted in blood. He dropped to his knees, and Kiba began cutting desperately at his thick hide.

“Apsu help me!”

Lightning suddenly erupted from his blade, the troll twitching as electricity coursed through him, yet he still would not die. Again Kiba nearly dropped his sword in shock, but the seasoned warrior held on to the blade, his eyes scanning for something, anything he could use.

There!

A bottle sat next to the aborted campfire from the night before, and he lunged for the green vial, turning and hurling it at the troll with all his might.

Glass shattered loudly, the troll roaring as he was doused in an acid that slowly ate at his legs. Kiba tried to cut him again, the acid spreading onto his blade as he hacked at the troll. Bits and pieces of the troll fell away from the body, bubbling liquid coating various parts of the body until at long last, it was still in true death.

Kiba dropped back, panting heavily as he clutched his sword.

“Apsu… I used magic…” he breathed, staring at the blade in wonder. “I am magic?”

The lizard crawled out of his pocket, climbing onto the blade carefully. He looked up at Kiba, a smug feeling running between them, and the kobold frowned, setting the scimitar down. He held out his hands, squatting like he had seen the dark one do, and tossed his hands back and forth, trying to remember the feeling of the magic.

A burst of electricity jumped between his hands, Kiba crying out in shock and pain as it connected with his body. He fell on his ass, his arms twitching as he tried to figure out how this ever could have happened. Why now? Why could he use magic? He was nearly thirteen years old, nearly halfway through the normal lifespan of a kobold. If he had been born with this, surely it would have shown itself earlier.

Playing with his hands, Kiba experimented with his newfound electricity, throwing sparks around at trees, trying to see what the lightning would do to the corpse. It took a bit of practice, but the kobold found he could conjure the lightning almost at will, though any strong sparks pulled more energy out of him, and it wasn’t long before he was exhausted from the exertion.

But he was magic. He was Kiba the Great, defender of the Father Dragon, and the kobold held his head high as he realized he held power, perhaps more power than any kobold before him. He would show the dark one that he was not a pet to be bossed around.

The thunder of troll feet pounded through the fortress, Lapis glancing around warily. His hand tightened in Khemet’s fur, holding onto the tiger as though trying to reassure himself that the tiger was alive, safe.

Five trolls approached as they stepped into the fortress, one of them dressed in bones and leathers. A brand pulsed on the leader’s flesh, an odd sense of supremacy in his gaze as he stared at the party. Lapis trembled under his stare, but he forced himself to straighten. The party seemed to have made him their speaker, and he would do his best.

“Borba, you stand in King Hargulka’s kingdom. King Hargulka not invite you. Rude to invite yourself and kill my people,” the leader grumbled, his voice like the rumbling of rocks in an avalanche.

“We do not talk to monsters, we take their heads,” Ekundayo nearly snarled, Lapis frowning at him.

“Your Taldane is impressive for a troll,” the amurrun frowned.

“You’re surprised King Hargulka is smart? King Hargulka leads trolls into new age, make them smart too. King Tartuk and kobolds make trolls immortal, immune to the fire. We are superior to borba now!” the troll roared. “What say you now when trolls are better than you?!”

“But you’re not immortal. We can kill you with acid,” Lapis pointed out, a quiet confidence in the simple truth granting his words a strength no amount of posturing ever could.

Instantly the trolls around him reared back in terror, but a bellow from Hargulka brought them back into line.

“Humans are killed by fire, acid, steel, wood. Compared to humans, trolls ARE immortal,” the troll snarled. “You find Hargulka later, we settle who is better. If you survive.”

A wide grin crossed his face as he pounded a fist into a stone statue. Leaping down a side passage as the statue covered his retreat, the troll king fled, his companions closing in on the party of adventurers.

“Bastet, grant Khemet your claws,” Lapis chanted, slapping a hand on the tiger as he retreated.

He didn’t know what good the prayer would do; he could feel the bone crushing exhaustion that came from pushing himself too hard, but he had to try. He couldn’t just let Khemet roll over and die.

“They die easily to fire,” Faes frowned, shaking the last flame off his hand as the final troll fell in a blaze of fire. “I don’t know why you all think they’re immune. Perhaps resistant to the flames, but not immune.”

“These trolls do not bear the mark,” Ekun said, kneeling beside a body.

“Either way, we will need to rest before we can hope to face the troll king. Especially if Tartuccio is with him,” Linzi scowled.

“And do you suppose we should rest here, in the middle of enemy territory?” Regongar demanded.

“Yes…”

The entire party turned toward the half-drow in shock.

“We should. Think about it. We have shown them that we can kill trolls, that we can get past their defenses. They will be too busy working on building new defenses, they won’t risk facing us in open combat. We can rest here for a few hours, recover our strength. I will stand guard with the animals, we don’t need sleep to recover our magic.”

“This is suicide!” Tristian exclaimed.

“Suicide or not, look at the tiger. Look at Regongar. Your prayers aren’t doing anything anymore, and we cannot fight the trolls without fire and acid. We need your magic,” Faes pointed out. “The time we spent walking, it’s nearly nightfall. We do not want to face a rock troll in the middle of the night.”

“All good points,” Ekundayo said. “Do not underestimate Kargadd. He tore my home apart.”

“This is ridiculous. We need to bring Cassiel back. We have barely two days left to find the scroll and use it or he will be lost to us forever. We don’t have time to rest, whether we need our spells or not,” Tristian protested.

“What we need is a leader to settle this,” Faes sighed.

“Oh and I suppose you want to lead the group yourself?” Regongar smirked.

“No. I want Lapis to lead us.”

“The cat?!”

The group’s eyes turned on the amurrun, Lapis flinching back from their glares.

“But I don’t know how to lead anyone…” he frowned.

“You know, in the sagas, it’s always the ones who don’t want to lead that are the best at it,” Linzi said. “It’s not like Cassiel knew what he was doing either, and we took a barony. Perhaps Lapis is just who we need to bring Cassiel back, and then he can go back to basking in the sun, or whatever it is cat people do.”

“Fine, let the cat be our voice,” Regongar shrugged. “I can fight on, but a rest would be nice.”

“Lapis, you know you don't have to follow Faes, right?” Tristian said.

“Well, what’s it going to be? Hunting trolls, or taking a nice nap so Khemet can gather his strength?” Faes pressed, forcing Lapis to meet his fiery gaze.

“We… We need to rest,” Lapis frowned. “Khemet is hurt, and I can’t let him go on like this.”

“I can cast one more healing spell. We could heal him, and fight on,” Tristian said.

“No. He would only get hurt again,” Lapis denied. “We rest.”

Faes was already pulling bits of wood into a pile, starting a large fire under the ruined statue. Setting the back of the camp to the impenetrable wall of stone, he began building up the fire until it was a roaring furnace of heat, enough flames to keep most trolls away.

“Well, what are you all waiting for? Let’s get our rest, and we can start out early in the morning,” he said.

Tristian frowned, but began working on the camp, Linzi joining him with an eager smile.

“Finally. I know we’re still in danger, but it’s nice not to have to deal with hunting down trolls or fighting undead kobolds for a change,” she chirped.

“What of Kiba?” Lapis demanded suddenly. “Won’t he be lonely tonight?”

“No, he has his lizard with him,” Faes shrugged. “And he’s small enough, he should blend easily into the night.”