The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) (46 page)

Justan stopped in shock, his sword protruding from her back. He knew what it was that she was missing. He knew why she was broken. Talon knew pain and pleasure in equal measure. Saw them as old friends. But she did not understand them.

She had no empathy. No understanding of the way others felt. She knew such things as love and sorrow only as abstract concepts with no true meaning. This is why the prophets had been unable to fix her.

“He takess!” Talon howled. Horrified at having her sensations sucked away and her soul laid bare. “He takess!”

“Now I give,” Justan promised.

Justan reversed the magic of the sword, returning her pain and adding his own. He started with his childhood, the pain of a bruised knee, the pleasure of his mother hugging him and kissing it better. He showed her the pain he had felt when his father had left on a long journey and the pleasure he had felt upon his return. He shared the pleasure that came from the companionship of his close friends and loved ones. He showed her the pain of guilt and loss that had come from Qyxal’s death.

Then he began to show her the pain caused by her actions, starting with his horror back in Ewzad’s keep as he had watched her slaughter the prisoners in the hallway. Then the sorrow and fear she had caused Nala and her family when she had killed all their animals. He showed her the pain and loss caused by her murder of Master Coal, starting with his own sorrow and continuing with the pain felt by his family and bonded. Finally, he shared with her the pain and mourning Deathclaw had felt when he had seen the suffering she had caused and been unable to stop it.

When he was finished, Justan tried one more thing he had never thought to do before. He reached his elemental magic through the sword and used the temporary bond its magic had created with her soul to enter her body and heal the wound as he withdrew the blade slowly. He was able to repair the severed blood vessels, tissues, and organs as if she were his own bonded. He did as much as he could and when the sword left her body, only a small gash in her skin remained.

Justan stumbled backwards, his strength sapped by the intensity of the magic he had used. Gwyrtha moved behind him, giving him something to hold onto. He clutched her saddle and breathed deeply, pulling from her energy to bolster himself.

Talon collapsed to the ground, sobbing. For the first time in her life, she felt true human sorrow. Deathclaw, who had only understood a small part of what Justan had done, crouched next to her. He let out a questioning chirp.

“Talon!” Durza cried. She scrambled up off the ground and ran to the raptoid’s side. “Talon, is you okay?”

She put her hand on Talon’s arm and the raptoid lunged at her, throwing her arms around the gorc. “I’m ssorry, Durza. I’m ssorry.”

“What did you do to her?” Tarah asked.

“Did you . . . fix her?” Deathclaw asked.

“No,” Justan said. “I forgave her.”

Talon still had a long way to go before she was fixed. He wasn’t even sure that was possible. But he didn’t think she was a threat anymore. At least not for now.

He shook his head, a clear memory coming back to him like a jolt. He had been so involved in the magic he had missed it. A sudden dread pooled in his stomach.

“Mellinda is still alive. I don’t know how, or why, but she’s somehow mixed up with those troll creatures and the behemoth under the swamp.” He gasped as another important bit of information awakened in his mind. “We have to get back! She has some sort of a deal with Aloysius. She’s coming here and she has the Rings of Stardeon.”

“Uh,” said Esmine’s child-like form, appearing suddenly before them. “I think she might already be here.”

“This is impossible!” said Tolynn.

Xedrion set down the scroll on the table before him, his mind in turmoil. Actually, it wasn’t impossible. The insidious thing about this treaty was that it was reasonable. He could come up with well-thought arguments about why he should agree to almost every clause. There were several sticking points, but they were minor in the big scheme of things, especially considering what the cost of refusal would be.

“I am sorry to hear that you have a disagreement,” Aloysius said calmly. “What would that be?”

“You want Jharro wood to arm your forces!” she replied angrily. “That is a gift only given to those who are chosen by the trees and who promise to devote themselves to the tree’s defense!”

“I ask only for wood. It does not have to be living. I would be happy being supplied with dead wood,” the gnome replied.

“That wood is sacred! It belongs to the trees!” she said, her dark eyes narrowed in anger.

“No it isn’t,” said Xedrion numbly. “The trees give of themselves willingly and once the wood becomes dead, it is of no use to them. We have begun a custom of returning dead wood to the trees, but that is a custom less than three hundred years old.”

“Returning it is the right thing to do,” she said, shocked that he disagreed.

“Which is what you said three hundred years ago when the custom began.” He looked at her. “What do the trees do with the wood when it is returned?”

“That is of no consequence,” she said.

“They do nothing with it,” Xedrion said, answering his own question. This was a particular custom that had bothered him for some time. “They store it. Hold it in their cores. Why? It is no use to them. They do it because you ask it of them. If you asked tomorrow, they would give it back to you freely. Three hundred years of Jharro weapons that once belonged to living Roo-Tan men and women before they gave their lives in service to the grove. The trees would likely be happy to be rid of it.”

Tolynn’s jaw dropped. “What would you have us do with it? Send it out into the world, stirring up greed?”

“I am aware of the reasons,” Aloysius said. “There was a time in the long past when the people of your race traded freely of the groves resources with the world and it only brought you ruin and despair. The power hungry wanted more and were willing to destroy the grove to get it no matter the consequence.” He waved his hand. “It’s a cycle that goes on and on. I have read your history thoroughly.”

Xedrion gritted his teeth at the gnome’s arrogance and callousness. That more than anything made him want to throw the treaty back in his face. Yet, he held back, the lives of the twenty thousand behind him staying his hand.

“I, however, have no desire to plunder the grove. I am very well aware of the service that those wonderful trees do for the world and I applaud it. In fact, I wish to help protect it. By becoming a partner with the Alberri Empire, we offer you the added protection of our vast armies, should you ever come under attack. As part of the empire, the Mer-Dan Collective will help in that effort. In fact, with your already secluded location, it is unlikely that anyone could ever get through us to get to you. If they did, you would still have the almighty Roo-Tan defenders as the ultimate buffer.”

He grew more and more proud of himself as he went. “We offer you trade and access to resources that you have long walled yourself away from. In exchange, I merely ask for the dead wood that, as Xedrion pointed out, is no longer of use to you. Also occasional shipments of Jharro Sap, but nothing more than you feel the trees can give. Their health is of the upmost concern to us.”

“Absolutely not,” Tolynn said, her voice filled with the anger of self-righteousness, mixed with the wisdom of countless years. “You can tell it in his voice and mannerisms, Xedrion. This is just a beginning. In a few years they will demand more. War will come with this one in charge and when that happens, they will want to renegotiate. They will ask for more wood. ‘What is one less tree?’ he will ask. ‘The grove is healthy. It can absorb the loss. Cut the oldest one down, carve it up and send it to us. We will not ask for another’.”

She shook the scroll. “He already asks for Roo-Tan soldiers to bolster his armies when war comes.”

“If I may rebut,” Aloysius said, raising a finger. “There are foundational restrictions unchangeable in the treaty. No living tree may ever be harmed. No more than twenty percent of the Roo-Tan armies can ever be called up in time of war. I understand that would be a difficult sacrifice, but your troops would only ever be used for defensive purposes and not to invade another nation.”

Everything the gnome said set Xedrion’s indignation ablaze, and at the same time made him more convinced that he should consider signing.

The gnome leaned back. “As I said, protection of the grove is the foremost of my concerns. I really do not see how you can have an objection. Especially since none of this would affect your people at all. This treaty is between the Third Great Alberri Empire and the Roo-Tan nation. Not a single one of my soldiers need ever set foot in the grove, including myself. Unless invited, of course.”

“I find your attitude outrageous!” Tolynn snarled. She looked to the Stranger, who sat in his chair calmly watching as if he had no opinion. “What say you, Stranger?”

“I merely observe,” he replied in an infuriatingly bland manner.

“You may feel free to leave at any time,” Aloysius told Tolynn, giving her a gracious nod. “As I said, the treaty is not with your people. Your presence here is a courtesy only and not necessary for the signing. Even if we were to go to war and the Roo-Tan extinguished, my empire would stage our own protection around the grove. Your people will be safe.”

“Xedrion!” Tolynn snapped. “This is ridiculous. He asks for wood and threatens you and then says he asks nothing of my people!”

“He has done his research, Tolynn. I do not know how he would have seen a copy of the original agreement between our peoples, but nevertheless he has been thorough,” Xedrion replied and Aloysius accepted the compliment with a smug nod. “Everything he asks of us is something owed to us by you in that agreement. The dead wood belongs to us. That you cannot dispute, no matter the current custom. As does any reasonable request for sap. If we decide to give it, you must provide it.”

“Xedrion!” she said.

“Now I do not wish you to leave, Tolynn,” Xedrion said calmly. “But please, give me a moment to think.”

The elf sat down in shock and Xedrion looked to Elder Qelvyn and Witch Sorell, both of whom had remained quite silent throughout the discussion. Something he found quite bizarre, especially from Witch Sorell, who had always been both a voracious and loquacious enemy.

“What say you two? You have been strangely quiet. Qelvyn, when you came to me those few weeks ago, did you know that this would be the matter of our meeting today?”

Qelvyn, gave him a sweaty smile. “I was under negotiations with the warlord at the time, yes. Though I did not know how they would end. I am quite happy with the result and I do hope you sign.”

“And you, Sorell?” Xedrion said. “How many times over the years did you scream at me and threaten to one day steal my children? I have almost killed you multiple times. Why do you stay silent? I would think you bewitched if Tolynn had not already assured me that no spirit magic was involved.”

She bared her teeth at him. “If you sign, I revoke my previous threats. The Roo-Dan tire of Roo-Tan thuggery. We want only peace.”

He snorted. At least she hadn’t changed too much. He turned to his wife, the one person he knew would keep a level head. “What do you think, Herlda?”

During the whole discussion, she had said nothing, spending her time pouring over the document again and again. This was a great skill of hers, something Xedrion valued. She could always find a hole in a contract. It was the main reason why Xedrion’s agreements were known for being iron clad.

Herlda shook her head slowly. She look sad. “I see sacrifices, but the benefits outweigh them. It is an agreement I would advocate if this person’s disposition were not so loathsome and if he did not give it to us under threat of extermination. I just do not think any contract he gives us can be trusted.”

“I understand that you do not know me,” Aloysius said, giving her a patient look. “I have spent most of my years hard at study and training in my native country. However, if you look at the back of the scroll, you will see the long list of precious treaties and negotiations that I have both brokered and been witness to, none of which have been broken by my side of the agreement.”

Xedrion was tired of the flippant nature of this gnome. He was not yet willing to say no to the agreement, but he had been coy long enough. It was time to be blunt. “What of the war that you started in your own country, warlord? Setting dark wizards against your own people? Assassinations? What of the rogue horse you slaughtered in an attempt to bind it to a piece of dead Jharro wood. What assurances can you give me that the wood I give you won’t go towards that same end?”