The Bowl of Souls: Book 01.5 - Hilt's Pride Page 4

  Hilt nodded. “Exactly.” He extended one sword out to her blade first. It was dripping with troll slime. “Rub the metal on the tip of the sword. Carefully, now.”

  When she brushed the flame stick against the sword, there was a tiny spark. The troll slime combusted and the entire length of the blade was set ablaze. Hilt touched the sword to the bodies of the trolls and with a whoosh, they went up in flame. He walked over to the body parts that he had lopped off of the trolls and speared them quivering on the end of his sword before flicking them into the fire.

  “Would you put the cap back on? Just be careful not to touch the metal.” Beth put the leather cap back over the end and stared at the burning trolls transfixed until Hilt came to her side. He looked at her with worried eyes. “Are you okay, Beth?”

  She swallowed and handed him the fire stick. “I don’t know.”

  He tucked it into his pocket and grabbed her hand. “Come. Let’s continue on. You’ll feel better as we get away from here.”

  Hilt hoped he was right. She seemed quite shaken up. He was relieved when only a few yards later, she shot him a glare and said, “I’ve seen battles before, you know.”

  “I’m sure you have,” he said.

  “Not trolls, but I’ve lived in Pinewood for fifteen years. I’ve seen goblins, gorcs, orcs, bears, moonrats . . . I even watched the town guard kill a giant once,” she said. “So don’t go treating me like some moon-eyed girl that can’t handle a little violence!”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said in all sincerity. She set her jaw and narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but let him continue leading her along by the hand.

  Hot pots and steam vents bubbled and hissed all around them. They had to backtrack a few times to avoid some particularly dangerous footing, but a half hour later they had passed the most active area and the air began to smell fresh again. Still, she didn’t let go of his hand.

  “What was that you did back there?” she asked. “When you knocked that troll into the pool, I mean.”

  “That was my sword,” he said. “Northwind, I call her. She hangs on my right hip. Southwind is the other. He hangs on my left.”

  “Magic swords . . .” she said. “I’ve heard of them before, but that was pretty impressive.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a smile. “When I was ready to go to the Bowl of Souls, I knew that I needed a special set of swords. I found a master smith that knew how to work runes into the metal and I commissioned them. He, uh . . . took my name to heart when he forged them.”

  “George the Wind,” she said. “I saw the air runes on the hilts, but I thought they were just for show.”

  “You seem to know a lot about runes,” he said and she just shrugged in response. There was so much about this woman he didn’t know. “Well, you’re right. When he handed them to me, he told me he had made me some ‘little breezes’.”

  They walked several minutes in silence before she spoke again.

  “I-I’m sorry about before, Hilt. I don’t usually act like this. It’s just that I have hunted animals all my life and for some reason when I’m around, the creatures are calm as a kitten. They never attack me. Not snakes, moonrats, bears, anything. But when that troll came at me, the look of hunger in its eyes . . . I’ve never felt so helpless before. He was going to eat me, tear me limb from limb and I-I had no way to stop him.”

  “Bah! Not true,” Hilt said and gave her his most disarming smile. “You had me.”

  Her mouth twitched and she looked as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him. Finally she returned his smile. “I’m glad you came with me, Sir Hilt. I want you to know . . .”

  “What do you want me to kno-?” She placed a finger against his lips, stopping him mid-word. Her eyes were wide with fear as she pulled the finger away and pointed up the slope to the right.

  Hilt cursed his luck. Just over the next ridge, walking down the slope towards them were four trolls. Two of them were standard mountain trolls like the ones he had dealt with earlier, but the other two were different, bent and misshapen. That was not a good sign.

  “Alright. We’ll be okay, We’ll just have to go up the other side of the slope.” She was still staring at the swaying trolls as they approached. He reached up and gently turned her face towards his. He waited until her eyes latched onto his. “Listen to me, Beth. Trolls can’t see well. At this distance, they can’t make us out. Their main senses are smell and taste and we are downwind from them right now.”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  He grabbed one of the leather cords around his neck and pulled a pouch out from under his shirt. He opened it up and dumped its contents, mainly gold and silver coins, into his hand and shoved them into his pocket. He then took the fire stick out and tucked it into the pouch.

  “I want you to hold onto this for me, okay?” He wrapped her fingers around the pouch and hung the cord over her neck. ”Fire is the best weapon against trolls. If we have to face them again, you light a stick or something, anything you can find. You’ll be ready for them.”

  The leather creaked as she tightened her grip on the pouch. “You bet I will.”

  They trotted to the left, putting some distance between them and the approaching trolls, then turned and began climbing again. As they navigated the rock strewn slope, Hilt kept a sharp eye on the monsters’ progress. So far, the trolls had continued on their path, seemingly oblivious to their presence.

  As they were rounding one particularly large boulder, Hilt’s foot slipped. He caught himself, but swore as he looked down. “Blast! Troll sign.”

  “What’s that?” Beth asked.

  “Trolls leave slime trails wherever they go like-like . . . great lines of snot.” He scraped his boot off on a nearby rock. “This one was fresh.”

  “It looks like a snail trail.” Her nose wrinkled and she pointed to the path ahead. “Look!”

  Long glistening lines crisscrossed the path ahead. Hilt looked back to the trolls on the other side of the slope. The beasts had stopped and stood swaying slightly, long tongues hanging out as they tasted the air.

  “Can we get around them if we climb up a bit more and cross back over?” she asked.

  “No. The wind is blowing against us. If we climb past them, our scent will blow right to them. We have no choice but to keep going up this side.”

  As they picked their way up the slope, Hilt became sure that another battle was inevitable. There were troll trails everywhere, some dried and flaking away, others still wet. He had been wrong about the reason the gorcs had marked this area off. It wasn’t the volcanic activity. This mountain had a troll infestation.

  “How could there be so many trolls?” Beth asked.

  “There must have been a battle,” Hilt said. “Maybe the gorcs tried to fight the trolls and cut some of them to pieces. If you don’t burn the bodies, they always grow back, one for every piece. Two of those trolls on the other side of the slope are misshapen. That only happens when a single troll is cut into too many pieces. Sometimes they don’t grow back right.”

  “But what do they eat? Other than this snake, I haven’t seen any wildlife around here,” she said.

  “That’s a good point. Other than fire, starvation’s the only thing that kills a troll. Maybe this infestation is recent. That would explain the missing wildlife.”

  The earth rumbled under their feet and an earsplitting chorus of screeches echoed across the slope in one long roar.

  Beth wrapped her arms around him, her mouth open in silent terror and Hilt looked for the source of the sound. His eyes darted towards the trolls on the far side of the slope, but there was no way they had done it. To his surprise the trolls were running further down the mountainside away from the sound. As he watched, one of them lurched and fell, tumbling down in a shower of rocks. Hilt looked back to the top of the slope directly in from of them. The sound must have come from up there.

  “Beth, my lady, those other trolls are gone. I think we can mov
e to the other side now.”

  She looked up at him and back down to the fleeing trolls and nodded. She let go of him, her face red with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

  He grabbed her hand, but as they began to make their way back across the slope, screeches rang out from the top of the ridge. Two trolls ran down the slope towards them, arms outstretched, slaver dripping from their toothy maws.

  Hilt stepped in front of Beth and drew his swords, willing the magic in the blades to form. He would have to cut them down quickly.

  He started towards them, but to his surprise, they burst into flame, first one, then the other. Their screeches turned into screams and they ran off in opposite directions, before tripping and tumbling down the slope, setting trollsign trails ablaze as they went.

  Hilt looked up to the top of the ridge and was surprised to see a small person walking down the slope towards them. He carried a gray wooden bow in one hand and a quiver and small pack were thrown across one shoulder. He had close cropped stubbly hair and pointed ears and his skin was dark and leathery. He looked ancient, the skin of his face so lined and wrinkled that Hilt could barely see his wise eyes staring out from under them. He walked down the rock strewn slope barefoot, wearing nothing but a loincloth.

  “Yntri!” Hilt said in surprise, a wide grin on his face.

  III

  “So glad to see you. How did you get up here ahead of us?”

  Yntri Yni was looking at Beth. He pointed at her and let out an accusatory series of clicks and whistles.

  Beth gripped his arm. “Hilt. . . Who is that and why is he naked?”

  “Uh, Beth, this is Yntri Yni. One of the ancient ones, weapon master of the Roo-Tan, and guardian of the Jharro Grove. He is my companion on my current mission. He is holy and deserving of the utmost respect.” Then as an aside, he added, “And even I don’t know why he chooses to dress like this. He doesn’t feel the cold like you or I and . . . I’m just glad he covers the important parts.”

  Yntri shook a fist at him and clicked and whistled a series of demands.

  “What is he upset about?” Beth asked.

  “He is mad that I abandoned our mission for this detour,” he explained. “Yntri, this is Beth. She is on a quest to climb to the peak of this mountain and I have agreed to escort her there.”

  The weathered old elf gave Hilt a dumbfounded expression and stomped his foot, berating him and letting out a string of curses in his ancient language.

  “It’s not like that, Yntri. I-.” He swallowed. “Uh, Beth would you please tell Yntri Yni why I am helping you.”

  “I’m not sure that I know. You told me your whole life story earlier, but you still never got around to it,” she reminded.

  “Just-just tell him why you are climbing this mountain . . . please.” Hilt said.

  “So he understands the common tongue?” she asked. The elf was giving both of them a mean glare.

  “Yes. He just doesn’t speak it. He says his mouth’s not made for it.” He placed both hands together in a pleading gesture. “Just please tell him before he shoots me.”

  She nodded and smiled at the elf, then said out of the side of her mouth, “His name’s In Tree a Knee, right?”

  “Yntri Yni. Close, though,” Hilt said.

  She gave the ancient elf an awkward curtsey and said, “Mister Yntri Anee, I am Beth from Pinewood. I am climbing this mountain because the prophet came to me and told me to. Sir Hilt for some reason has decided to accompany me and protect me until I reach the peak. I am sorry that this delays your mission. I don’t mean to be a nuisance. Really, I don’t.”

  At the mention of the prophet, Yntri clapped one wrinkled hand over his face and shook his head, grumbling. At last he sighed and walked over to Beth, looking her up and down. She was just a few inches taller than him. He slung his bow over his shoulder and reached out and poked her, once in each shoulder, once in the stomach, and continued, working his way around her grabbing her arm, feeling various muscles.

  “Ow! Hey! What’s he doing?” she demanded.

  “He is sizing you up.” Hilt explained. “Evaluating your talent. It is a tradition among his people and an honor, really. Just bear with it.”

  “Okay but, I don’t like being touched like thi-! Does he have to cup my butt?” Her face grew red as the elf ran his hand up her side and across her chest to rest over her heart. He paused for a moment, then leaned in and placed his ear between her breasts, listening to her heartbeat. Her jaw dropped in indignation and she glared at Hilt. “This had better stop now before I strangle him.”

  “Uh, she means it, Yntri,” Hilt warned.

  Yntri released her and took a step back. He smiled and bowed to her, then spoke to Hilt.

  Hilt’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “He says that you are a strong woman and that he is very impressed. He says that you have a heart that is made for the bow. He says that it is a rare gift and that he is pleased because you are the second person he has met this year with such raw talent.”

  Yntri smiled and nodded and smacked her rump in agreement.

  “Oh! You . . .” Her face twitched as she digested what he said. Hilt wondered if she would thank the elf or follow through on her promise to strangle him. Finally she took a deep breath, let it out, and said, “Thank you, Yntri. It’s been several years since I shot a bow, though. And . . . since I know you can understand me, understand that if you smack my butt again, I will slap your face no matter how ancient you are.”

  The elf chuckled and nodded his head, clicking and whistling again.

  “He says he likes you. He will accompany us and make sure you arrive to the top safely.” Hilt did not add the part where Yntri told him that she had a fine figure and would make a great wife. The elf was constantly asking him why he wasn’t married.

  “Well, thank you again,” Beth said, then her brow furrowed. “But how did you beat us here?”

  Yntri clicked away and Hilt nodded, then told Beth, “He was on the far side of the mountain, when he received my signal. His bow told him we were ascending the slope so he came up from the other side.”

  “His bow told him?”

  “His bow is made from the wood of the Jharro tree. The Jharro weapon forges a link with its master that is quite remarkably similar to the link that a named warrior has with his weapon. It’s quite fascinating and one of the reasons why I went to live with his people in the first place. Anyway, the whistle he gave me is a piece of his bow and because I had it with me, he was able to track us down.”

  Yntri clicked at Hilt and stuck out his hand expectantly, Hilt nodded and lifted the small gray wooden whistle from around his neck and handed it to the elf. Yntry touched the whistle to his bow. It stuck to the wood and slowly began dissolving into it.

  They were interrupted by a repeat of the horrible sound from earlier. The screeching roar echoed across the slope and Hilt saw a cloud of dust rise from just over the ridge. Beth gasped, clutching her hands over her ears and Hilt squeezed her shoulder with calm reassurance.

  “Yntri, you came from over there. Did you see what made that sound?” The elf didn’t answer. Hilt prodded, “That sounded like a hundred trolls back there. Are there so many?”

  Yntri Yni set his jaw and stared back at him in silence.

  Hilt felt a chill run up his spine. There was something the elf didn’t want him to see. Whatever it was, it was a challenge. Yntri knew how he felt about challenges. “What is it, Yntri? How many are there?”

  The elf held up one finger.

  “You mean it?” Hilt laughed. He started towards the sound, but Yntri placed one hand on his chest, stopping him. The elf slowly shook his head, his eyes deadly serious. “What? I just want to see it. I have to see it.”

  “What are you talking about, Hilt?” Beth asked.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s a troll behemoth. I mean, it has to be.” His heart was beating madly in his chest.

  Beth’s eyes darted from Hilt to Yntri and back. “What’s that?”
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  “A troll behemoth is one of the ten monsters of legend; a troll with a rare disease. For some reason its healing ability goes berserk and it starts growing extra limbs, heads, eyes, claws, you name it, and as long as it keeps eating, it keeps growing.” Hilt licked his lips and gripped his sword hilts to stop his fingers from twitching. “They are extremely rare and they are nearly impossible to kill. Only a few men are known to have done it.”

  Hilt had seen the bones of one once. A professor at the Mage School had found the remains of one that had died of starvation. He had painstakingly reassembled it and had it on display in the back of the library. It had been enormous. Hilt saw it the day he was named and ever since he had ached to fight one.

  Evidently Beth saw the worry in Yntri’s face because she clutched Hilt’s arm. “Lets go around to the other side. I don’t want to see this thing.”