The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) (34 page)

She wondered if Deathclaw still hunted like a raptoid. Had he finally given up the old ways? Did he eat with fork and spoon the way his human master did?

She had heard the voice of Deathclaw’s human master on the night Matthew had sent her and Durza away. Sir Edge, the man Mellinda had referred to as a bonding wizard, had been with the Prophet when he had warned Matthew about the army. Talon wondered where Deathclaw was now? Would they ever meet again? Would he kill her if they did?

Several days passed by and Talon gained on her quarry. The army had traveled eastward, staying out of the marshes and skirting any human communities, undoubtedly using their magic to hide themselves from notice. Talon was also careful to stay concealed. Not only did she take care to lighten her tracks, she used the pheromone glands that her old master Ewwie had given her, erasing every trace of her scent just in the odd chance that Deathclaw should happen to cross them. She didn’t need her brother interrupting her just yet.

One evening, a new scent rose in the air. It was humid and salty and slightly fishy. She couldn’t quite identify it, but knew there was a large body of water ahead. At daybreak that morning she entered a clearing at the top of a large hill and froze in awe and terror.

Ahead of her, not a mile away was a long band of white sandy coastline much like the sand of the deserts of her childhood. Beyond that was a never ending mass of blue. Water, farther than Talon could see. This was what she had tasted in the air. Beautiful and massive and deadly; the ocean. She had thought there was no way a body of water could be larger than the Wide River. For a creature that had spent her entire life land-locked it was as if she was looking at the end of the world.

Talon stayed there for several minutes, feeling small and insignificant, before she forced her mind out of its stupor. She headed down the far side of the hill and focused on the army’s trail, grateful once she had entered the trees and the ocean faded from view. The trail continued east for a while and an odd frightening notion hit her mind. What if this army just kept going until they reached the ocean? What if they simply swam off, taking Matthew into the endless water?

What could she possibly do if that happened? She had swam across the frigid Wide River. Would she have the courage to enter this ceaseless expanse?

To her ultimate relief, her quarry never reached the beaches. They curved southward for a short distance. Then she realized that she was there. The demon army was camped in a large plain of thick green grasses. And they weren’t alone. Alongside the earthy mounds of the kobald camps and the spiky tents of the other mysterious demons was a vast field of domed leather structures, the strange tents of wild men.

Talon watched the movements of this army for most of the day, trying to puzzle out where they might be keeping her master. The only traces she had found of Matthew along her journey had been places where the demons had allowed him to stop and urinate. She had never seen his tracks, which told her that the army was somehow carrying him, perhaps on horseback. Since most of this army was infantry, she turned her focus on the command tents, getting as close as she dared without drawing attention.

The command tents were large canvas structures that were busy with the comings and goings of the various army leaders. Talon never saw Matthew himself, but as night came, she noticed an interesting gathering take place. Several tall and lanky gnomes exited the largest tent. They wore metal vests and carried weapons. Talon knew gnomes to be awkward and clumsy, but these moved with a fluid warrior bearing and walked in a protective formation. They were followed by two white-robed humans with red sashes across their chests and right behind them was another gnome unlike any Talon had seen.

This gnome moved as fluidly as the warriors had, but he carried himself with the regal bearing of one of those nobles that Ewwie had despised so much. He had a full head of hair and a shiny metal circlet sat on his brow, resting atop his floppy ears. He wore white robes and an empty sword sheath hung at his waist. Walking behind him was another strange person; a fat elf wearing silks.

This elite group moved to the edge of the camp, where the plains met a field of inland marshes. There they waited. What they waited for, Talon did not know, but she grew curious enough to come closer and check.

Sunlight faded from the sky and darkness, Talon’s old ally, approached. Ewwie had given her the sensitive eyes of a cat and she could see in the lowest levels of light. She drew near this strange commander’s party. The humans made a fire and a grand chair was brought down from the command tent for the gnome to sit in as he waited.

The gnome warriors spread out into the grasses and marshland, keeping a watchful eye for intruders, but this was only of minor concern for Talon. Hiding was one of her favorite pastimes and her black robes gave her added protection from the gnomes’ trained eyes.

An hour passed in which the gnome commander took tea and spoke to the red-sashed men. To Talon’s sensitive ears they might as well have been speaking directly to her. They spoke of troop movements and preparations for war. The commander replied asking for very specific details. It was all quite boring.

The old part of Talon’s mind considered how difficult it would be for her to rush in and kill this gnome. She could reach him before the humans had time to react. All she had to do was pierce him with her tail barb. The deathwhisper poison gland Ewwie had placed within her tail would do the rest. Of course, then she would have to deal with all those warrior gnomes. They seemed dangerous, but that would be fun.

Eventually Talon stopped those tantalizing thoughts. Killing this leader would be a pleasant way to get revenge on this army for taking her master, but it would not make it easier to secure him and escape. It would be best to rescue Matthew first and then see if he wished this gnome commander killed.

Just as she had decided that waiting in this place was a waste of her time, one of the gnome warriors rushed back from the marshes. It gave the commander a deep bow and said in an obsequious tone, “Warlord Aloysius, the lady Mellinda arrives.”

Talon’s blood froze. Surely she had heard incorrectly. Her old mistress was dead. Matthew had told her so. Were there other people named Mellinda?

Then she heard a group approaching from the marshes. Three individuals. Two large ones with heavy footsteps and one much lighter that walked with the familiar whisper of a woman wearing a dress.

Two hulking beasts stepped into the light first. They were nearly seven feet tall, as tall as the gnome warriors, but two or three times as thick, corded with muscles. Their light green skin glistened as with troll slime and they had a slightly trollish aroma, but their features were a mix of troll and man.

Walking between these two creatures was a human woman. Her hair was long and curled and black but for a single blond lock near her forehead. Her eyes were a striking green and her lips were full and luscious as was her figure. The way she stepped was odd and sinuous and it wasn’t until her scent hit Talon that the raptoid understood.

This woman reeked of Ewwie’s magic. On the backs of her fingers glittered Ewwie’s ten gemstones. Somehow she had taken Ewwie’s rings. Talon nearly darted forward to kill the woman right there. Then the woman spoke.

“Warlord Aloysius. So good to see you again,” the woman said with an alluring voice. A voice full of promise. The voice that fueled Talon’s nightmares.

Talon knew it right away. This was Mellinda. She looked nothing like the rotting creature that Talon had met in the dark forest, but somehow it was her. Mellinda had found a way to succeed. She had freed herself from her prison and escaped the wizards. Worst of all, she had stolen Ewwie’s powers.

Mellinda stepped forward and offered her hand. The gnome warlord stood and did not take her hand, but offered his own instead. Mellinda’s smile trembled, but she leaned forward and kissed his fingers, showing her fealty.

Talon did not know what to do. Her every instinct shouted that she should do something. Attack, flee for her life, or simply die of fear. But Talon did none of those things. She did not know why. Perhaps it was the calming influence of the robes she wore. She stayed still and she listened.

“Mellinda, you are late,” Aloysius admonished. “You were to be here at nightfall.”

Mellinda’s smile trembled again and anger flashed briefly behind her eyes, but she inclined her head. “I apologize, Warlord. The journey was long and the marshes harsh terrain. Please forgive my tardiness.”

The woman did not look like someone who had undergone a long journey through the swamps. Her dress was pristine and she smelled nothing like the troll slime and mud she should have been sloshing through.

The gnome glanced at the two beasts that accompanied the woman. “What are these beasts you have with you? Where is the troll army you promised?”

“These, Warlord, are trollkin, a mix of man and troll,” she explained. “You see, when I arrived in the swamps and travelled to the Troll Mother’s great wound, I found that the wound had closed. In its place she had created a womb.”

“A womb?” Aloysius said with an eyebrow raised in interest.

“Yes, Warlord,” she said, growing excited. “Somehow over the last thousand years, the Troll Mother changed. She has stopped making trolls and began giving birth to a new race. A race more intelligent and powerful and useful than trolls.”

“A fascinating development,” he said and approached the beasts. He walked around them, examining their physiques. The two trollkin glanced at each other in confusion but didn’t move. “These specimens are quite different from each other. This one has definite canine qualities, while this one has vestigial feathers running down its spine. Tell me, Mellinda. Are they not, in fact, creations of those rings you wear?”

“They are not,” she said. “Look at them with spirit sight. Mage sight, if you have the ability. Do you see any trace of my magic on them?”

“Perhaps not,” he replied. “Though this really does not seem possible. How would a mindless, soulless creature like the Troll Mother create a race as diverse as this?”

“Blasphemy,” growled one of the trollkin.

“The Mother is not soulless or mindless!” barked the other.

“Quiet!” Mellinda hissed. Her fingers writhed bonelessly and the two trollkin froze in place. “I apologize, Warlord. They had been told not to speak.”

He smiled in response and Talon realized that he had chosen his words carefully. He had intended to see if he would get this response from the beasts and had learned that their loyalty was not to Mellinda alone. “It seems they worship this mother of theirs.”

“Yes. Each one of them is born with a belief that the Troll Mother is their god and in a way she is. However, their goddess is loyal to me and will do my bidding,” Mellinda said.

Talon did not quite believe this statement and the gnome seemed just as dubious. “You never answered my earlier question. How can an unthinking soulless beast feel loyalty, much less produce offspring with souls?”

Mellinda curtseyed, an action that looked disingenuous on the woman, and said, “Once again, you impress me with your knowledge, Warlord. Yes, trolls are so devolved that they have become soulless. However, the Troll Mother is one of the originals, the first thulls that I modified. Her mutation was caused, I believe, by the constant tearing of her soul as I used her to make trolls.

“Somehow the scrap of soul that she had left after being transformed into the Troll Mother has grown and adapted over these long years. Her intelligence is not one that you or I would readily understand, after all she is a creature the size of the swamps. But she has learned how to create her children in a way that makes each one so unique.”

The gnome warlord pressed his palms together and touched his fingertips to his lips. “My interest has been piqued. Continue.”

Mellinda licked her lips and as she spoke, it was as if she was discovering this theory while she said it. “The Troll Mother swallows whole various beasts that she can capture, including many men and people of the other intelligent races that come close enough. She then takes the basic material of these people and combines it with her own to create something new.

“Somehow, in a way that quite honestly I have not yet discovered, she then binds the souls of these people to their new bodies. As a result of this process, they have no memory of the events of their previous lives, yet they retain vital information allowing them to be born as fully formed, thinking adult creatures. When I came across them, they had already formed a society deep within the Troll Swamps and were living in KhanzaRoo.”

Talon was completely lost at this point of the conversation, but Aloysius seemed to take it all in stride.