The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) (17 page)

Locksher frowned. “Hopefully sooner, because we have messages to send tonight and I need him to talk to Alfred at the academy.”

“I will talk to Sarine,” Maryanne said. “She can relay the message to Darlan and make sure the academy is informed.”

“What messages are you talking about?” Fist asked the wizard.

“From what you saw at that black lake and from the size of the force that we helped the Thunder People fight off this morning, it’s likely that we do not have the means to destroy this enemy on our own. We may need wizards and we will need warriors to protect them,” Locksher replied. “Therefore, we must contact the academy and Mage School and tell them that they should start preparing in case an attack force is needed. If my suspicion is confirmed, they will need to start immediately or the passes could clear and this evil will spread past our ability to contain it.”

Fist nodded. He had come to the same conclusion himself.

“How long would it take for them to get here?” Maryanne wondered.

“The portal between the Mage School and academy helps things,” Locksher said. “The High Council will be able to assemble the wizard forces fairly quickly. What do you think Qenzic? How about the academy?”

“Uh, well Faldon will have been preparing for this eventuality, sir,” Qenzic replied. “To form an attack force would take only a week or so.”

“The wizards will not move that quickly. Let’s call it two,” Locksher said.

“And then it would take at least three weeks for them to travel here from the academy,” Fist figured. “But what would we do while we wait for them to arrive?”

“We help the ogres fight,” said the wizard. “We keep the focus of whatever is controlling these larvae focused on us. If we can keep it distracted, perhaps that will slow the spread of its influence until our reinforcements arrive.”

“There are definitely improvements the Thunder People can make,” Qenzic said. “I noticed during the battle this morning, they have basically no fortifications at all. They’ve simply been meeting the enemy head on.”

“What are you thinking? Barricades?” Lyramoor asked.

Qenzic shrugged. “We’re short on building materials, but surely there’s enough rock around here that we could build some walls. I was also thinking that we could find out what route they are taking to get here and see if we can find a good choke point to stop them at.”

“I think I know,” Fist said. “We saw a long line of them walking one of the trails.”

Maryanne smiled. “That’s right. We saw plenty of good ambush spots while we were trying to sneak by them.”

“That means we could set some good traps,” Lyramoor said, his thoughts churning.

“My question is, what are we waiting for?” Qenzic said. “We already know things are bad up here. They seem even worse with each new piece of information we find. Why not tell them to start on their way now?”

“Because we still don’t have the whole picture,” Locksher replied. “This will be a large, long, and expensive undertaking for both schools. They are going to want to know how many warriors and wizards they need to send.”

“And what piece of information do you still need?” Maryanne asked.

“That’s what I wanted to discuss next,” Locksher said. “Fist, I will want you to take me to that black lake sometime within the next few days. I will need to see it for myself.”

“Okay,” Fist said, though he wasn’t really looking forward to going back there any time soon.

“I would like to see it as well,” Qenzic added.

“Believe me, you don’t,” said Maryanne, echoing Fist’s thoughts. “It’s not an experience anyone would ‘like’ to have.”

“I think we would all be better off with a look,” Lyramoor added. “It’s best to know your enemy.”

“Great,” said Maryanne sarcastically. “Sorry, I’m just hungry.” She looked over at Fist. “Aren’t you hungry?”

The birds were finished cooking, so they sat down and ate as they continued discussing their plans. The meat was gamey and a bit stringy, but Maryanne was a decent cook and Fist was surprised with how good the carrion birds tasted.

The only problem was that there wasn’t quite enough. Maryanne had shot enough birds for Fist to have two and everyone else to have one, but Fist was still hungry after he was finished.

Rufus was quite displeased with this outcome as he was forced to eat grain like the horses. As a rogue horse, he was designed to be able to survive on just about anything that a creature could eat, be it vegetable or animal, but he had his own particular tastes and he let them know about it.

When he had finished his allotted grain, he edged close to the others. He pulled down a branch and stripped off a handful of pine needles, then chewed them slowly, all the while watching them eat with large sad eyes. “Meat.”

“Aww. Sorry, I didn’t know,” Maryanne said, feeling guilty. “I’ll make sure that I cook one for you too next time.”

“Here you are, Rufus,” Locksher said and threw what was left of his carcass to the rogue horse.

“Locksher!” Maryanne chided. “That was mostly bones.”

“I read a book about rogue horses not too long ago, Maryanne,” the wizard replied. “It’s a little known fact, but they love bones. It’s rumored that this tendency is left over from the fact that Stardeon loved dogs.”

“I like bones!” Rufus said. He snatched the carcass off of the ground and tossed it into his mouth. He chewed happily, grunting. Soon everyone else tossed him their bones as well.

“Strange,” said Fist. “I had always assumed that was just Gwyrtha.”

Maryanne yawned and stretched. “Well, dinner’s done. I am ready to get some sleep. How about you, Fist?”

Fist echoed her yawn.  “Yeah.” Now that she mentioned it, Fist realized he was exhausted. It had been a very long day full of stress and magic and battles. At that moment, all he wanted to do was to lie down in his bedroll with his nice pillow. He looked over at the horses and frowned. He really didn’t want to muster the strength to retrieve his things from the horses.

“Ooh. Ooh. Me!” Rufus reminded him.

“You want to get it for me? Oh! Right.” He had a rogue horse to siphon energy from. Fist smiled. “Thanks, Rufus. I forgot!”

Like he had at the black lake earlier that morning, Fist reached through the bond and pulled some energy from Rufus’ vast stores. But this time he had a better idea of when to stop and didn’t overdo it. Feeling much better, he jumped up and retrieved his things and laid his bedroll out not too far from the fire.

As he did so, he grew excited about talking to Justan. He wanted to find out if the nightbeast had shown up at Yntri Yni’s funeral. Also there was so much he needed to tell Justan about. He didn’t even know about Rufus yet.

 “Rufus, you will love Justan. He is so smart and so good.” Rufus already knew a lot about Fist’s tribe from earlier conversations they’d had during the journey that morning, but Fist started feeding him fond memories through the bond. “Oh! And you will get to talk to Gwyrtha again.”

“Ooh! Yes!” Rufus said in excitement. He hadn’t seen her in quite some time.

Fist took off his boots and unstrapped his breastplate. Then he slipped under the cold blankets with a soft hiss and sighed as his head hit the pillow that his friends, Becca and Miss Nala, had made him. It was stuffed with dried honstule blossoms and he could still smell their slightly sweet scent. He closed his eyes and prepared to reach out to Justan.

“Hey, would you move your pillow over a little bit,” Maryanne interrupted as she unrolled her own bedroll right next to his. “I mean I don’t mind sharing with you if that’s what you want. It’s better than what I got.”

Fist moved his pillow over slightly while she rolled up her jacket and plopped it down next to his head. “Uh, you are sleeping this close?”

She began unlacing her armor. “Hey, you’re my man now, didn’t you hear?” Maryanne chuckled at the way his face froze. “Don’t forget we need to keep up appearances, or that little show I gave those ogresses will be for nothing. Wow, I have been wanting to get out of these things for days.”

She pulled off her armor and then, standing in her underthings for a few brief moments, she folded it and set it next to her bedroll. She slid into her own blankets with a shiver. “Ooh! Cold, don’t you think? I think I was a lot warmer cuddling up to you during those snowstorms on the way up here.”

Fist swallowed. “Uh, yes. Do you want to borrow my robe?”

“Nah. I think this will warm up soon enough, but I’ll let you know,” she said and closed her eyes. “I’m gonna contact Sarine now.”

“Okay,” Fist said. He closed his eyes again.

“You know, sooner or later, you’re going to have to kiss me,” Maryanne added. Fist’s eyes popped open and he looked over at her, but her eyes were still closed. He could just see the edge of one of her floppy ears peeking out from under her auburn hair. The corner of her lips twisted into a smile. “I’ll let you be the one to decide when as long as you don’t take too long. Now shh. I’m talking to Sarine.”

Fist found that his heart was beating quickly. She was just as bold as any ogre woman, though perhaps not as vulgar about it. For a moment he thought about kissing her, but he pushed the thought away. It was time to contact Justan.

He reached through the bond just in time to be startled by a large whump! Rufus had plopped his heavy body right next to Fist and was laying on his side, looking at him, resting his head on his hand.
You like this girl
?

Of course he does
, sent Squirrel, scurrying down from one of the fir trees and wedging himself between them.
He is just shy
.

That’s not it. I’m just not sure
, Fist said.
Well that’s not quite true. I do like her, but I don’t know what that means. Do you know what I mean
?

Nope
, Rufus replied.
You going to talk to Justan now
?

Yes
, Fist said. He closed his eyes and reached through the bond and this time he was deep enough into it that he didn’t even notice when Rufus swung his long arm across him and Maryanne and yanked them all a little closer together.

The morning air was humid and warm enough that Jhonate already knew it would be a scorcher. By the time she finished her run sweat dripped from her brow and had soaked through her shirt. She entered the palace proper, her staff rapping staccato notes on the wooden floors as she stormed down the hallway towards her rooms.

Among the Roo-Tan, Jhonate Bin Leeths was not generally known as a cheerful woman. In fact, she had a reputation for being quite the firebrand. It was a reputation that she had cultivated intentionally.

During her childhood, Jhonate had been a happy girl. She had trained and played with the elves of the grove and basked in the love of her mother and father. But as she approached her teenage years, Jhonate had come to understand that the rest of her family did not share her parents’ adoration. Her mother was Xedrion’s sixth wife, and his favorite. The fact that Jhonate, his sixth born daughter and sixteenth born overall, had become his most favored child was hard for the rest of the family to swallow.

Years of bitterness and indifference from her siblings and her father’s other wives had left her with a rather large chip on her shoulder. She had grown determined to prove herself the equal of any of them and worthy of her father’s affection. By the time she was old enough to receive her Jharro weapon, Jhonate had developed a rather stern countenance. As she grew older she developed a reputation for lashing out at those who offended her, sometimes with a painful result.

This was why the female servant rounding the corner took one look at the dour look on Jhonate’s face and turned back the way she had come. The servant turned so quickly that she nearly knocked over a messenger who was rushing away from Xedrion’s conference room, a sheath of papers in his hands. He paused momentarily to glare at the servant and rounded the corner himself in time to come face-to-face with Xedrion’s sixth born daughter.

“Where are you going, Relf?” Jhonate asked.

There was no anger in her tone, but the messenger took one look at Jhonate’s eyes and forced a nervous smile. “Good morning, daughter of Xedrion. Back from your run so soon?”

“I asked you a question,” Jhonate repeated, her voice level.

“I have been sent on a summons,” he replied. Relf made as if to continue on his way, but Jhonate did not move. “Your father’s orders.”

“Whom are you retrieving?” Jhonate asked.

Relf paused as he tried to decide whether or not telling her would get him in trouble with the Protector. “Uh . . . that would be Elder Qelvyn. Your father wishes to see him again before he leaves.”

“Hmph,” she said, her frown tightening.

Elder Qelvyn was the ambassador for the so-called Mer-Dan Collective. That was the fancy name for the unlikely coalition of Roo-Dan savages and Merpeople that lived in  northeastern Malaroo. Jhonate was certain that this ambassador’s posturing was nothing more than an attempt to distract the Roo-Tan while they gathered their armies to attack.

She had one more question for the messenger. “Is Sir Edge still in there with my father?”

“Yes, daughter of Xedrion,” Relf replied.

This was the second morning in a row that Justan had not been in his room when she had come to collect him for training. That time with him was her favorite part of each day and she found it very vexing that this was being taken from her. She told herself that this was the main reason she was in a furious mood this morning, though the fact that her father hadn’t requested her presence in these meetings was equally vexing.

“What is today’s discussion about?” she asked.

“The same as usual. You know your father and his need for planning meetings,” Relf said with a chuckle. Jhonate raised an eyebrow and his cheeks colored as he realized that he might be overstepping his bounds. “Your betrothed has taken Sir Hilt’s place as the outsider representative.”

“Has he?” Jhonate chewed her lip as she considered this development.

The position of ‘outsider representative’ was an honorary post. Xedrion had made it up years ago in order to create a loophole that would allow his friend Sir Hilt to be one of his advisors. Hilt had a keen mind and often came up with observations and solutions to problems that his Roo-Tan advisors could not.

It had been over a week since Sir Hilt had been injured at the hands of the night beast assassin and he had not returned to his former duties. He was spending his days recuperating with his wife and adopted daughter and, Jhonate assumed, training with his damaged hand.

“Uh, Daughter of Xedrion,” Relf said hesitantly. “Your father is waiting for me to complete my duty.”

Jhonate realized that she was still blocking his path. “I see. You may go on your way then,” she said, stepping aside. The messenger made his way past her, glancing back to make sure she wasn’t going to stop him again.

Her frown had dissipated, a slight smile beginning to form at the corners of her lips. For Xedrion to have inserted Justan in Sir Hilt’s position was a great honor. It was even a likely sign that her father would soon approve their marriage.

Jhonate stood there for a moment, tapping her staff on the floor impatiently. She had grown extremely curious how Justan was doing in these meetings and it bothered her more than a little bit that her father hadn’t summoned her to participate with him. She was determined to get inside and observe the proceedings. All she needed was the right excuse.

Perhaps her mother would be her way in. Xedrion never managed to keep her out, even as heavily pregnant as she was. It was probably a good time to see her anyway, the woman was due any day now. Jhonate headed towards her rooms at a slight jog. First she needed to get into some clean clothes.

Jhonate’s rooms, like those of all her siblings, would have been considered austere by the standards of nobility. Xedrion was a man of order and he demanded the same from his family. The walls were plain and painted white and there was very little in the way of furniture. Her clothing and other personal items were kept in a closet out of the way.

Jhonate had come to prefer things this way and her quarters in the academy had been kept just as orderly. This was one area in which Justan needed some help. Since he had arrived at the palace, she had noted his tendency to leave his things lying about for the servants to put away for him. He had even complained to her that they kept moving his things. She hadn’t spent much time correcting him on the matter. He would learn soon enough once they were married.

Jhonate rushed into her bedroom and disrobed, casting her sweat stained garments into a bin for the servants to wash later. Then she entered her washroom and pulled a lever in the wall, releasing a cascade of water from a hole in the ceiling. Now this was something she had missed while she had been away from her people.

In Dremaldria, bathing had been a tedious process. Filling a tub with heated water, then sitting in it surrounded by your own dirt while you tried to scrub it away. In Roo-Tan’lan the water was lifted out of the canals to the top of the building by a series of water wheels to be delivered to the washrooms. The water might not have been heated, but in Malaroo’s climate it wasn’t cold either.

She stepped under her own private waterfall and used a clean cloth to scrub the sweat and grime away. It was a quick and efficient process, something that could be done daily, unlike bathing once or twice a week as done in Dremaldria.

Jhonate was nearly finished, when she heard a knocking at her door. “Who is there?”

The voice was immediately recognizable and caused the frown to reappear on Jhonate’s face. “It’s me, Vannya. I need to speak to you!”

She groaned in response. “Come in, then! I will visit with you in a moment.”

The mage entered the sitting room, slammed the door behind her, and immediately started talking. Jhonate could barely hear her over the sound of the water. “Jhonate you wouldn’t believe what I’ve discovered. It’s so very exciting. I- Oh! You’re naked.”

Jhonate turned around to see the startled mage standing in the doorway to the washroom. Vannya looked completely different than the last time Jhonate had seen her. The mage’s blond hair had been braided up in the Roo-Tan style and she had exchanged her Mage School robes for a local outfit.

Vannya wore a blue pair of those billowing trousers that Beth had made popular recently and the white shirt she had paired with it was the same type that spirit magic users wore. Of course, Jhonate noted, it all looked fantastic on her, even if she did strain the fabric at the bosom.

She shot Vannya a glare. “The polite thing to do is look away.”

Vannya did so. “Well, you could have warned me instead of saying come right in.”

“Did I say, ‘please come back and watch me bathe’?” Jhonate asked. She pushed the lever up, shutting the water off. “Did you not hear the water?”

“Well, excuse me, that tepid waterfall thing you people use hardly sounds like a bath. Do you know how hard it was for me to find a proper tub in this city?”

Jhonate wiped most of the water off her body with her hands and strode past the mage, heading towards her closet. She glanced back. “It looks like you have picked up some of our traditions.”

“Oh, you mean this?” Vannya said, tugging at her shirt and trousers. “I’ve been having some difficulty getting people to take me seriously and Alyssa, the girl that’s been assisting me, suggested that it might be helpful if I didn’t stand out quite so much. I quite like it, actually. They are so much more comfortable to wear than robes. In hot weather like this, I mean.”

This was supposed to help her blend in? As if it hid her blond hair and pale skin? Jhonate pulled on some clean underclothes. She sent a curt nod in the mage’s direction. “And the hair?”

“Do you like it?” she asked with a cute little grimace. “The moisture in the air did horrible things to my hair and Alyssa assured me that I wouldn’t offend anybody by braiding it up this way.”

That was true enough. The braids were traditional, but didn’t have any religious or military significance. “What made you decide on blue?”

Vannya grasped the braids on either side of her head. The blue ribbons woven into her braids exactly matched the color of her eyes. “Well, blue is the color of my strength in magic. It looks okay, then?”

 Jhonate sighed. “You look beautiful as usual. Of course this will be much worse if your intention was to avoid standing out. Now that you do not look like a mage, the warriors are simply going to find you pleasantly exotic. You are going to be a grand distraction.”

Vannya looked crestfallen. “What else can I do?”

“Nothing. You are you.” Jhonate pulled her hide breastplate over her head and began tightening the laces that ran up the front. “Is that why you came to see me? To see if I liked your new clothing?”

A ripple of irritation ripped across the mage’s perfect features, but it was quickly forced away and replaced by excitement. “No! This is about that troll creature that you killed the other day. I have been studying its corpse and it is absolutely fascinating.”

“At least you are getting to work,” Jhonate said. Those strange troll creatures were the entire reason Justan had invited the mage here in the first place. As Wizard Locksher’s assistant, she was the closest thing to an expert on modified trolls available.

“Do you have to be so nasty all the time?” Vannya said.

“Nasty?” Jhonate said. She looked over the clothes that she had donned. They seemed perfectly clean to her.

“Nasty as in mean spirited or spiteful,” Vannya said, her voice sounding hurt. “Have I done anything to deserve it? I know we have argued in the past, but the reason for that is over. Am I treading on your foot in some way that I’m not aware of?”

“No. You . . .” The truth was that the girl was just so completely different from Jhonate that everything she did annoyed her. She seemed to represent everything that bothered Jhonate about other women rolled up in one voluptuous little blond package. Still, that wasn’t the woman’s fault. Not really. “I am sorry, Mage Vannya. You do not deserve the ire I have directed your way this morning. Can we start again?”

Vannya smiled. “Why thank you, Jhonate. Yes we can. I honestly didn’t think you were going to apologize. I half expected you to slap me.”

“I am not so coarse as that,” Jhonate said, then remembered that she had slapped the woman before. Twice. “But we are starting this conversation over. What is it that you wanted to tell me, Mage Vannya?”