The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) (48 page)

A tentacle wrapped around Aloysius’ ankle. He slashed down at it with his knife, severing it, and another tentacle wrapped around his wrist.

The Stranger took a step towards the gnome and held out his hand. Tentacles contorted to avoid him. “Does your legacy end here? Will cunning and deviousness and political maneuvering be all you are remembered for? Take my hand and let me guide you.”

Aloysius pulled another knife from a sheath hidden under his breastplate and sliced the tentacle that grasped his other hand. Snarling, he reached out and grasped the Stranger’s hand. “Save me from this place. That is an order!”

Matthew smiled. “Very well, Warlord. Do not let go.” He pulled the gnome towards the edge of the platform and the tentacles parted before him.

“Matthew!” shouted Xedrion. “You would leave us here?”

“I am sorry,” said the Stranger. “He is my responsibility.”

Matthew stepped off of the platform and the open mouth under his foot closed allowing him safe passage into the mist.

The retreat of the Roo-Tan army was well-organized, but not easy to accomplish. Every time a new escape route was found, only a few men would get through before another mouth opened up to block the path. All along the slope, men were fighting to escape while tentacles dragged them towards toothy mouths.

The warriors helped each other as best they could, slicing tentacles and wounding mouths, but those were only temporary solutions. The Mother closed wounds almost as soon as they were opened and tentacles were easily re-formed. Just as many men were devoured as were saved.

Justan stayed mounted on Gwyrtha, patrolling the edge of the valley, shouting out instructions. Gwyrtha was extremely helpful, often sensing changes about to happen underground before they happened. The upper slopes were soon cleared of troops, but those in the lower part of the bowl were still being massacred. Jhonate and her brothers and sisters were down there with them.

To Justan’s frustration, she was ignoring his calls to escape. She and her siblings were focused only on the protector’s rescue. Justan didn’t see how they were going to do it without help. The platform was ringed with hungry mouths and obscured by mist. It was all they could do to keep from being eaten themselves.

Deathclaw? Are you sure your sword can’t help
?

Perhaps
, Deathclaw replied.
But I would have to get to them and then I would have to hope that fire did not block our escape
.

The raptoid was a short distance away, leading a small group of men to the safety of the trees. The moment the Troll Mother’s attack had begun, the blade of Deathclaw’s sword had blazed to life. He was using it to spectacular effect. Every mouth or tentacle he touched exploded in flames.

Despite the fact that his actions had saved many men, the fire caused its own problem as it spread across the grass, fed by the slime the Troll Mother’s grasping tongues left behind. The mouths of the mother that weren’t directly touched by the sword, didn’t seem to mind the flames. They continued to send out grasping tongues, simply setting the men on fire as they dragged in and swallowed.

We may have to try it anyway
, Justan said.
But maybe not. Come join me
.

He saw Tarah Woodblade and her friends gathered together a safe distance from the valley’s edge and galloped their way. “Tarah!” He slid out of the saddle and landed in front of her. “Jhonate is down there, as is Xedrion and Tolynn. Is there anything Esmine can do to help?”

Tarah shrugged helplessly. “She can make illusions.”

“She can sense things. Can she see where the mouths are about to appear before they hit?” he asked.

“She says that she can’t see into the earth. It’s too dense.” She frowned. “Maybe she could distract some of the mouths, but I don’t know that they can see.”

“Theodore thinks that the Troll Mother is using vibrations and pressure to know where to strike,” Willum said.

Djeri nodded, gazing down the valley with his hawk-like eyes. “I think he’s right. There’s no other pattern to the attacks. It just happens when people are moving. Look at Cletus.”

For the first time, Justan noticed that the gnome warrior wasn’t standing with the rest of them. He was racing along the slope, leaping over open mouths, his chain whipping around him, the long blade attached to the end lopping off tentacles. The Troll Mother seemed just a step behind, lashing out with tentacles or opening mouths after he passed.

“The fool!” Deathclaw hissed. “He will get himself eaten.”

“He’s helping people,” Djeri said, nodding as the gnome cleaved a tongue that had was wrapped around a soldier’s leg. “He wouldn’t listen if we said to hang back.”

Justan thought furiously. “Can Esmine make vibrations or hide vibrations?”

“Maybe . . ,” Tarah said, thinking it over.

“I dunno,” said Esmine, suddenly appearing to speak for herself. The elf child was rubbing her little chin with one hand. “I’m not too good at making people feel things. I can make good noises, though. Watch.”

Fifty yards down the slope in a spot empty of mouths, three identical versions of Esmine’s child appeared. At once, they started screaming and stomping their feet. The Troll Mother’s response was immediate. A mouth opened up underneath them and the three children yelped as they fell inside.

“It works,” Esmine said.

“Good! Do what you can,” Tarah said.

All across the slopes, small elf children suddenly appeared wherever men were struggling. They shouted and stomped their feet to distract the mother, and sometimes it worked. Still, it wasn’t enough. Xedrion and Tolynn could not break free.

A plan formed in Justan’s mind. “Bear with me a moment. I need to talk to Artemus.”

The wizard had been speaking so calmly to him before this had started. But since the meeting with Talon, Artemus hadn’t responded to his requests. He closed his eyes, focusing through the bond. The blockage that led to the wizard’s sanctum was no longer as solidly blocked as it had been in the past. The opening, once as small as a peep hole was large enough that Justan could reach through it if needed.

For now he just pressed his thoughts close to it and yelled,
Artemus, I need you
!

A chill breeze blew through the opening.
Now . . . is not a good time
, said his voice weakly. Then the harsher voice of the Scralag interrupted.
FREEZE THEM. CRUNCH THE BONES! There is something vast and powerful nearby. The elemental is FREEZE . . . is surging to the surface
.”

I need your help
! Justan sent a surge of thoughts and memories through the bond, showing Artemus what had transpired.
Jhonate is down there. She is surrounded and I have to save her. You need to wrest control and help me now
!

Artemus’ face appeared at the opening.
I can lend you power, but it will be limited. If I pull too hard, the elemental will break free
.

What I need you to do is freeze the ground
, Justan explained.
I need a safe path down to the center of the valley
.

It is too far. I can . . .
he grimaced.
Freeze the ground in a radius around you. Perhaps fifty yards. No more
.

Can you keep it up while I travel down there
? Justan begged.

I shall do all I can
, he wheezed.
Now go
.

“Alright,” Justan said, opening his eyes. “I’m heading down there. He’ll freeze the ground around me as I go, preventing her attacks. I’ll need Esmine to create distractions elsewhere, draw the Troll Mother’s attention.”

“Let us go, then,” Deathclaw said.

“I’ll come, too,” said Tarah. “Tolynn is tiring down there.”

“See if Esmine can be any help until we can reach them,” Justan suggested.

Esmine popped into view. “Doing it!” she said, then disappeared.

“We have another problem,” Djeri said pointing to the valley floor. “The fog’s climbing.”

The mist roiled and moved slowly up the valley banks, obscuring battling groups of soldiers from view.

Justan grimaced. “I wish Vannya was here to help.”

The mage had stayed behind to continue her studies. Hilt and Beth had stayed as well, but for different reasons. Xedrion didn’t want him going to war until he had recovered more use of his maimed hand.

“Uh . . . Theodore has a suggestion,” Willum said reluctantly. “I normally wouldn’t bring it up, but . . .”

“What?” Justan said. “Come on, we need to move!”

“Gwyrtha’s blood,” Willum said. “It wouldn’t take much to give him the charge needed. Once we got down there, he could cancel out the spell and blow the mist out.”

Do it
, Gwyrtha said. She turned her head and bit a deep gash into her shoulder.
I have lots
.

“Hurry up,” Justan said.

Willum held the axe against the wound and as her blood flowed over the blade, the runes glowed greedily. The imp’s response was audible to all those standing nearby. “Ohhhhhh yeeeeaaaah.”

“Enough,” Justan said, giving him only a few seconds before healing the wound. He reached out to Artemus.
Now
.

At that command, Justan felt a flash of pain in his chest. A shudder passed through him. Frost gathered on the front of his shirt.

A series of cracking sounds issued from the ground beneath his feet and a layer of frost formed on the grass around him. It radiated from him in a wide circle. He felt a wave of weakness, but pulled more energy from Gwyrtha. The axe had drained her reserves by about half, but she was ready to go.

Justan leapt into her saddle and started off, everyone else following close behind him.
Jhonate, I’m coming. We’re clearing a path to get you out of there
.

Hurry
, she said and her tiredness was obvious through the ring.
We can barely see down here and we cannot get through to father
.

Justan’s immediate urge was speed to the bottom at a full gallop, but that wasn’t possible. The frost wouldn’t radiate out fast enough to keep up. He was forced to go at a medium trot, his friends jogging to keep up, their feet crunching in the brittle frozen grass.

The experience was surreal. Everywhere else, men were fighting and screaming, but the land around Justan and his friends was frozen in a grotesque tableau. They jogged over and around frozen mouths and immobilized tongues.

The Troll Mother raged at the effectiveness of it. All along the perimeter of the frost, mouths opened and reached. Tongues elongated, but Justan’s friends made short work of any that came too close.

Cletus saw their descent and ran over to them. He slid across the frozen grass to Tarah’s side. “Hey! Where you goin’, Pretty Tarah?” he said breathlessly, a wide smile on his face despite the horrors surrounding them.

“We’re attempting a rescue,” Tarah replied. “The protector is stuck down there at the bottom.”

Cletus blinked and peered down at the bottom. “Oh! I see!” he said. He took a running leap and swung off of a frozen tongue that arced high overhead, then raced down the slope, dodging mouths as he went.

“How is he not dead already?” Deathclaw wondered. He swung his sword in a wide arc and the white hot blade set several grasping tongues aflame.

Djeri shook his head, the long blade of the Ramsetter ready in his hands. “You can’t explain Cletus.”

Xedrion fought on.

The tongues of the Troll Mother were relentless. The severed ends of tentacles had become their own obstacles, writhing and flopping and making the platform slippery. Herlda had fallen a few times. She was always quick back to her feet, but he worried that she was slowing down. They all were, in fact. Each of them had minor cuts and scrapes from the spikes on the tongues and none of them were in the prime of youth anymore.

Xedrion began to feel the creeping suspicion that this was the moment he had dreaded for over a decade. This would be the day his age caught up. This would be the day that his skill failed him.