The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) (24 page)

“One moment, John,” said Tolynn. “You say that this woman is a reader?”

“Indeed she is,” John replied and the elf woman drew back in shock.

Tarah was so stunned by the Prophet’s previous revelation that it took a while for her to register what the elf had said. “Why are you so surprised? What is there about me that makes you think I can’t read? My momma taught me when I was a child and I read very well, thank you.”

“She was speaking about your magical talent,” the Prophet explained. “You have a strong talent in bonding magic and more than a little bit of binding magic as well. Most often people strong in bonding magic become listeners, able to communicate with a person’s soul, but there is the rare exception. Some listeners are also seers, able to catch glimpses of the possible future, and some are readers, able to catch glimpses of the past.”

“That is more than just a rare talent, John,” Tolynn said. “I haven’t seen or heard of a reader in hundreds of years.”

Tarah felt a sudden urge to sit down. So much information was coming at her at once. “Th-then this thing I can do is a known magic. It’s not unique.” Somehow she found that thought comforting.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” John replied. “As many readers as I’ve known in the past I can’t think of any who have honed their talent in the way you have. Tracking beasts? Guiding travelers?”

Tarah didn’t know whether to thank him or be offended. Was he praising her for creative use of her powers or mocking her for such a cheap use of them? She was about to ask him when a few of the elves interrupted with clicked questions of their own.

“Right. I interrupted the story, didn’t I?” he said. “I was talking about the origins of this staff.”

“Do you really need to tell the rest?” Tarah said. She felt as though enough of her life had been shared with strangers for one day.

“You do wish me to convince Tolynn not to execute you?” he asked. Tarah sighed in response and he turned back to the elves so that he could continue. “As I was saying, Tarah and her father were the last of Rolf’s surviving relatives that cared at all about him anymore. When he arrived at their door, he was let in, though hesitantly by Tarah’s father.

“In the beginning, Rolf’s intentions were simply to stay with them through the winter, let them provide him with food and lodging, and then set out in search of other buyers. But something changed during that time. Rolf fell in love. With his granddaughter.

“Rolf was an old man by this time and he saw in Tarah everything that he had given up in order to pursue wealth and fame. He doted on her. He spent every moment with her that her father would allow. On Tarah’s twelfth birthday, he gave her his only possession of value; the blood staff. He told her that it was a massively powerful item and, to her father’s dismay, promised that one day the staff would make her famous.

“At that point Rolf had given up on dreams of riches. He spent several months with his granddaughter, happily teaching her staff play, but one day a message came to him from an old business partner. He had a new scheme, a product which, if sold correctly would make them both very wealthy. At first, Rolf put the message aside, content with his new life, but after a series of fierce arguments with Tarah’s father, he decided to leave. He would meet this old partner of his, regain his wealth and come back to shower Tarah with gifts.”

Tarah hadn’t heard the story from this angle before. She had known that her papa hadn’t trusted Rolf and when her grampa had left, she had assumed it was because her papa had driven him away. She had been angry with Gad for weeks after that. Now she thought she knew the reason that he really left. It was the formula for the resin that he had used to make her moonrat armor.

Tarah swallowed, glad that she had decided to trade away the armor instead of bringing it with her. She did not think that Tolynn would have taken kindly to the use of Jharro sap in the recipe. She hoped that the Prophet wouldn’t let that part of the story be known.

“Shortly after Rolf left, Tarah had her awakening. Her ability to read the tracks of animals confused her and she kept it secret, even from her father. She assumed that these new powers had come from her staff and feared that he might take it away. Years passed. Tarah spent every waking moment with that staff. Training with it. Tracking with it. Growing strong.

“Then when she was sixteen her father caught a human disease known as ‘the rot’. It sapped away his vitality and as he grew weaker, he knew that he wouldn’t survive. He sent for Rolf, asking him to care for Tarah when he was gone.

“This message came to Rolf at a crucial time. This business deal that had started out so full of promise had been rapidly falling apart. He had a choice to make, one that could have taken him down an even darker path than before.”

This was the part Tarah had been dreading. Her jaw clenched as she waited for the Prophet to reveal another horrible piece of history. What could it be? Had Rolf hewn down a Jharro tree to harvest the sap or something?

John’s eyes met hers, but if her pleading gaze had convinced him to hold back, she couldn’t tell. “Now, if Rolf had one redeeming quality it was his love for his granddaughter. He took this message as an opportunity to get out. He abandoned his business partner and rushed back to Tarah’s side.

“He arrived just after Tarah’s father had died. Rolf consoled her as best as he could and stayed by her side. She already knew more than he did about surviving in the wild so he taught her everything he knew about business. He showed her how to be wily as well as resourceful. By the time Rolf caught ill and passed away himself, Tarah was a well-known guide and tracker, using her magic to accomplish tasks that other guide’s couldn’t.”

 The crowd of elves around them had grown as he talked and the Prophet held their rapt attention. He went on to describe her exploits during the war and the way she and Djeri had destroyed the foul goblinoids that had defiled her home and how they had later been captured by the dwarf smugglers.

Tarah was surprised by how heroic her story sounded. Of course, John was kind enough to leave out the mad way she had talked to the voices of her papa and grampa in her head and the way that her cowardice had nearly betrayed them on several occasions, but there was something magical about the way he told the tale. It was as if they could see the journey unfolding before their eyes.

The elves cheered as they heard how she had thwarted the dwarves’ attempts to capture the rogue horse. They grew saddened when they heard about Esmine’s eventual capture, and Tarah saw a tear in Tolynn’s eye as he described Esmine’s death. Finally, he told them about the battle for Esmine’s soul and how Tarah had coaxed the rogue horse into her grasp, binding her to the staff and purifying it of the centuries worth of blood it held.

When he finished, the elves looked at Tarah in a new light. Even Tolynn’s gaze had softened towards her. Tarah, though still feeling uncomfortable about so much of her life being told to these elves, became hopeful that this would all turn out well.

Rolf’s salesman training told her that this was probably a good time to address the crowd. Tarah cleared her throat. “That’s why I’m here in Malaroo! The gnome that killed Esmine has brought an army of demons into this country and plans on conquering the grove. My friends and I are seeking the aid of the Roo-Tan.”

“I have heard of this army. Xedrion has told me,” Tolynn said. She twirled her Jharro staff and approached Tarah. The anger was gone from her eyes, but there was still a sternness in her features that was terribly intimidating.

“Tolynn . . ,” the Prophet said.

The elf woman raised a stiff hand, silencing him, and stood directly in front of Tarah. Though the elf was a good foot shorter than her, Tarah had to force herself not to back away. “I still have a question, woman. Why are you here?”

“But I just-. Oh. In the grove?” Tarah did her best to keep her voice level. “Well, Esmine was curious and we were tired of being stuck in the palace and . . . Alright, I suppose that I have no good excuse. But we meant no harm. We just wanted to see it.”

Tolynn stuck out her hand, palm up. “Place your palm on top of mine.”

Tarah winced. She was pretty sure what would happen. “Is that really necessary?”

“Is it such a difficult request?” Tolynn asked.

Tarah was certain that this was a test of some sort. She raised her hand and concentrated, chanting over and over again in her mind,
Don’t use the magic. Don’t use the magic.
Her palm rested on top of the elf’s.

Her concentration was for naught. The moment her palm touched Tolynn’s, a torrent of memories flooded Tarah’s mind.

The elf was ancient indeed. She was as old as many of the trees in the grove, but her life had not been as tranquil. Born long before the Roo-Tan came along, Tolynn had been raised for war. While others were caretakers, she was a warrior. She had fought alongside her people for centuries and in her defense of the grove, had killed hundreds. Many of these were attackers or thieves looking to harvest the trees’ wood or sap as a resource, but in her younger days it didn’t matter. Anyone who entered the grove unbidden was cut down. Men, women, wizards, merpeople, imps, she had slaughtered them all. These memories were filled, not with glee or malice, but with the grim satisfaction of a job well done.

Tolynn removed her hand. “It is just as you claimed. You have no control over these powers of yours.”

Tarah’s fingers trembled with intimidation. What she had seen didn’t seem possible. There had been no peace. No love. Not even sorrow in Tolynn’s life. Had this woman really done nothing but fight and kill?

Her fear turned to suspicion. “I think you only let me see what you wanted me to see.”

The elf raised a hairless eyebrow. “Why would I allow you to do otherwise?” She turned to the Prophet. “You expect me to let this child leave this grove with an immensely powerful weapon such as this? She is completely untrained and she has no control over the soul bound to this dead wood. The havoc she could wreak with this item is unimaginable.”

“I’m not gonna wreak any havoc,” Tarah protested. “I’m just gonna defeat this gnome warlord and then I’ll be on my way. You’ll never have to see me again.” She pursed her lips. “Well, I don’t think so anyway. I’m still not sure what I promised those trees.”

Tolynn didn’t respond to Tarah directly, but focused her glare on the Prophet. John returned that glare with tired eyes. “Tolynn, you know the solution to your problem even if you’re reluctant to do it. Now just listen to her and get this over with. I have places to be.”

The elf’s shoulders slumped slightly and she turned back to Tarah. “Hold your arms out to the sides.”

Tarah didn’t like the direction this was going. “What is this about? What solution?”

The elf nudged Tarah’s arm with her staff. “Raise them.”

Tarah gave the Prophet a questioning glance and he gave her a gesture that said ‘get on with it’. She raised her arms and Tolynn began pacing around her, poking her in various places with a stiff finger.

“You have the frame of a half-orc,” Tolynn observed.

Tarah’s eyes widened at the insult. She had dealt with remarks like this all her life. Was this part of the test? She decided not to respond back in kind. “My papa was an imposing man. I’ve used this frame to my advantage.”

The elf cocked her head. “What happened to your nose?”

Tarah couldn’t let that one slide. She gritted her teeth as a ready multitude of replies tumbled through her mind. “I punch myself in the face every day, just to keep in shape.”

“That is a foolish practice,” Tolynn observed. “It would not exercise any useful muscle groups.”

“It helped me make your face a little prettier,” Tarah remarked.

She waited for another angry reply, but the elf just grinned. To Tarah’s surprise, Tolynn stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Tarah’s torso, squeezing her head tight against the center of Tarah’s chest in a deep embrace. Tarah turned a confused look to the elves standing around, but they just watched the situation expectantly.

They stood there frozen for several seconds before Tolynn finally released her. The elf stepped back and gave her a resigned, but irritated nod. “Very well. I shall train you.”

“You’ll what?” Tarah said.

“If you are going to protect the trees as you promised, you must learn how to use your abilities properly. I am not a reader, but I can help you develop your listening skills and at least teach you to choose when to use them,” Tolynn said.

“Good!” said John with a smile. “I had hoped this would be the outcome.”

“Good?” Tarah wasn’t sure how good this was. Learning to control her powers was an inviting concept, but taking this elf woman as a teacher wasn’t very appealing. Besides, there was a larger concern. “How long will this take? I have a gnome warlord to fight.”

Tolynn folded her hands thoughtfully. “Yes. The threat is real. Which is why you need to hone these skills. I suppose we can afford to allow you a few hours a day to that end,” she decided.

“A few hours a day?” Tarah said. “That ain’t gonna be enough. I might need to be miles away from here tracking that army.”

“Hmm. She makes a good point. I will be quite busy with my other responsibilities. This is a terrible time for me to take on a trainee,” Tolynn said.

“Well maybe once this is all over,” Tarah said, feeling relieved.

“Perhaps you could split time with Beth,” John suggested.

The elf smiled. “Ah, yes. Listener Beth is an excellent choice. She has developed some skill with binding. Perhaps she can pass some of that knowledge on. Tarah must learn to better use the capabilities of this weapon.”

“Wait!” Tarah said. “I have made too many blind agreements today already. What am I agreeing to?”

 “You misunderstand. It is not an offer and it is not an agreement,” Tolynn corrected. “It is a sentence being imposed upon you for the laws you have broken. You should be thanking John. Thanks to his impassioned pleas on your behalf I have ordered this in the place of your death.”

“You will be learning from two of the most powerful listeners in the known lands,” the Prophet assured her. “And they will help you better understand your powers. It is an opportunity that most spirit magic users would beg for.”

“A sentence . . .” Tarah said numbly.

Tolynn grasped the end of her staff and twisted, pulling a chunk of wood free. It changed form in her hands and she slapped it over Tarah’s wrist. Tarah looked down to see a slim bracelet of Jharro wood form and harden. She grasped it and gave it an experimental tug. It was tight. She doubted that she would be able to pry it off without severely hurting herself.

Nor should you try
, said Tolynn’s voice inside her head. The elf woman smiled in satisfaction.
I would know if you managed to do so
.

“Why are you in my head?” Tarah growled.

“
This is so that I can keep track of you and so that you will understand my speech. The human tongue tires my lips
,” Tolynn responded in the clicks and whistles of her people. Tarah found that the bracelet translated the elf’s words in her mind, allowing her to understand them. “
I can contact you through this when needed and you will learn to use it to contact me. Consider it training. You will improve your ability to communicate with the soul bound to the staff you wield
.”

I can already do that just fine
, Tarah replied mentally.

“
I shall be the judge of that
,” Tolynn said.

The Prophet clapped his hands together. “Now that we have that settled, it is time Tarah and I were going.”

“
You are leaving us
?” the elf clicked.

“I have accomplished my reason for being here. Be well, Tolynn,” John said and raised his voice as he waved to the other elves. “Be well, all of you! Dark times may soon come, but keep the light inside and keep the grove safe!”

The elves clicked him a farewell and made an odd gesture, forming a triangle with their fingers and placing it over their hearts. The Prophet returned the gesture. “Come, Tarah. I believe there are people looking for you.”

Tolynn’s thoughts echoed into Tarah’s mind.
You will return here early on the morrow. I will speak with Xedrion and let him know you are allowed
.

Tarah frowned. She supposed she had no choice.
I will be here
.

I will contact you and you will be prompt
, Tolynn said.
I will not put up with lateness
.

One of the elves jumped down from the roots above. His arms were loaded with vegetables from one of the gardens. He handed them to the Prophet, clicking in gratitude, thanking him for the story. John patted his head in thanks and took the vegetables to the cat creature and loaded them into the saddlebags.

“Up, Steff. It’s time to go,” he said and turned to Tarah. “I will escort you out of the grove before I take leave of you.”

As he spoke, the large cat-like thing walked up behind the Prophet and rubbed its head against his back. Then it continued, rubbing its whole body length against him before turning away, its rear end stopping just over his shoulder. The creature let out a soft meow. John staggered forward under the assault, but wasn’t put off by the odd affection.

“Yes, Steff. I know you want me to ride. Just be patient a little while longer,” he said. John glanced over his shoulder to find his face just inches from the base of its chitinous tail. He turned away with a grimace. “Ugh. Stop that! You know I don’t like it when you do that.” He gave Tarah an exasperated look. “Cats. Come, Tarah. No more standing around.”

The six-legged cat meowed an entreaty, but the Prophet started down one of the Jharro root pathways, using Esmine’s staff like a walking stick. He used long strides and Tarah hurried to join him. The cat padded along sullenly and quietly behind them.

“I have been wanting to ask you,” Tarah said, gesturing back at the strange animal. “What is that thing?”

“Steff is a rogue horse,” he replied. “As you may have noticed, I use them as mounts from time to time.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Tarah said, looking at the cat with greater appreciation. “You were riding that gorilla one that I was tracking over the winter. What ever happened to him?”

“Rufus? Ah, well I left him to find the bonding wizard who best suits his needs. I was reluctant to part with him but it’s one of the tasks I set myself centuries ago. That was their original purpose after all.” He let out a bittersweet sigh. “There are very few left now. Sooner or later they will all be gone. It will be a sad day when I give the last one away.”

Tarah nodded thoughtfully, looking at the staff he held as he walked. “So if Esmine hadn’t been killed, would you have found her a bonding wizard too?”

“Esmine was a special case.” He followed Tarah’s eyes and held the staff out towards her. “Are you ready to take her back yet?”

“Well . . .” Tarah reached out, but hesitated to grasp it.

He lowered the staff and continued using it as a walking stick. “She frightened you with her behavior, didn’t she? When I picked her up she was furious that you intended to leave her behind.”

“She put me through something I had no wish to go through again,” Tarah admitted. “I wasn’t going to put up with it anymore.”

“An understandable reaction,” he said.

“Why did she do it?” Tarah asked. “She tell you that?”

“As I was saying, Esmine is a special case. She is different from the other rogue horses, you see.”

“How?” Tarah asked. She certainly seemed more horse-like than the other rogue horses she had seen.

“Well, Stardeon designed the rogue horses to be the perfect mounts. They were meant to be strong, long-lived, powerful, and eager to serve. In fact, he made them eager to a fault. They grow very unhappy if they aren’t serving their purpose,” he explained. “Esmine, on the other hand was designed with stealth in mind. This made her sly and more than a little feisty. Sometimes those personality traits override the more basic emotions he built into her.” 

“I’ve noticed,” Tarah agreed.

“I first noticed this myself on the day I tried to round them up after Stardeon’s fall. Esmine didn’t want to follow along with me. She ran off on her own,” he said. “She wasn’t the only one. The majority of them were captured by dwarf smugglers or wizards. I feared that Esmine would perish like the rest of them, but she managed to keep herself free for all these years.”

“She is a survivor.” Tarah said with more than a little pride in her voice. “She grew real independent over that time. I guess that’s one of the reasons she has become so difficult to deal with.”

“Yes. Independent and perhaps a little delusional,” he said. “I imagine she was already difficult to deal with before you picked up that dark dagger from the dead wizardess.”

“Yeah,” Tarah said. Esmine had been restless and pushy from the beginning, but now that Tarah thought about it, the rogue horse had gotten a lot worse after she picked up the knife. “Are you telling me that what she did to me today was because of that thing?”

He shrugged. “In part. The magic of the grove increased the strength of the dagger, which projects feelings of anger or misery, so that certainly couldn’t have hurt. But I believe there are several factors that led up to her little outburst today. Remember she spent a thousand years as a free creature, roaming the land at her will. Imagine how you would feel if you were suddenly trapped in a staff, unable to go anywhere unless you were carried there by your master.”

Tarah frowned. She hadn’t thought about it like that. Considering it from that angle, Esmine’s anger made a lot of sense. “I guess by binding her to that staff I made her pretty unhappy.”

 “Don’t feel guilt over that,” he said, reaching out to pat her comfortingly on the shoulder. “You made the best choice available, Tarah. You kept her out of the hands of that gnome warlord.”

“I suppose,” she said. The fact that the Prophet thought so did help her feel a little better.

They reached the outskirts of the grove and walked down the last root path. The Prophet paused at the edge just before the root plunged into the lush black soil. “May we sit? There is one more thing we must discuss before I take leave of you.”

He sat on the edge of the root, and rested Esmine’s staff across his knees. Tarah glanced around before sitting on a nearby rock that jutted out of the ground as if made for the purpose. “Where are you headed from here?” she asked.

“I’m still trying to decide that.” A troubled look passed through his eyes. “I feel torn, Tarah. There are several large, possibly world-changing, events that are building right now and I cannot personally deal with all of them. The reason I have been here in the grove is that it is one of the few remaining places in the known lands where I can fully communicate with my master.” He sighed. “The choice has been left up to me.”

The Prophet had a master? Tarah had never heard that before. He seemed like such a power unto himself. She wondered why he was opening up to her of all people. “Uh, which one of these ‘events’ needs you most?”

The cat-like rogue horse stretched and laid on her back next to the Prophet and placed her large furry head on his lap. He let go of the staff and scratched under her chin while he thought. “Therein lies my difficulty. Every one of these battles involves places and people within the realm of my responsibility and I fear that no matter which one I choose, major players, people that I care for, will die.”

“Isn’t one of those places here?” Tarah asked. War was coming to Malaroo, she was sure of it.

“It is,” he admitted.

“Then why not stay here and help?” The choice seemed an obvious one to her. After all, she had just learned for herself how important the grove was.

“I would like to,” he said. “But much of the responsibility in this event belongs to someone else. Besides, I have already placed a great deal of pieces here to deal with the problem. I must trust in the people here, including you, to protect this place.”

That seemed incredibly irresponsible in Tarah’s mind. “But didn’t you say that some of us are going to die if you leave?”

“There is no guarantee that everyone would survive even if I were to stay. No, I must choose one of the other areas of danger.” A weight lifted off of him as he made the decision. “I shall go west from here. Perhaps doing so will only delay the inevitable, but sometimes sacrifices must be made for the betterment of all. Thank you, Tarah. Speaking with you helped.”