Fate Deals the Cards Temperance

  Chapter 30

  Twice Shy

  Down in the lab, I was getting a ton of work done, despite the constant distractions and my agitated, furious state.

  “We must run, chief. The risks of fighting such a creature far outweigh the costs…” Sara insisted, while I ignored her pleas and demands. We both knew that we would lose tribe members in a hurried flight across the wetlands and into the barren hills. Whether to the mundane perils of travel, wildlife or the troll, my girls would pay a price in blood and fear… a price that would almost certainly be paid by the youngest, weakest and most vulnerable of my girls. Sapphie mumbled a little dreamy nonsense in her sleep while I was contemplating those dark thoughts.

  ‘Or perhaps the cost would be borne by the bravest of them…’ I thought silently. That wasn’t acceptable as far as I was concerned, so the troll was just gonna have to die.

  I worked in my shop til the day began to fade, furiously preparing what I could and rejecting Sarafina’s cold calculus entirely. She knew what fleeing from the thing would cost us, with no guarantees that it wouldn’t follow, or drive my clan into the jaws of something as bad, or worse.

  Upstairs, I addressed the gathered tribe in the common room, including the clan members I’d never met and those who avoided me entirely, peering from the warren of tunnels stretching under the hillside.

  “Night comes. Stay in house.” I spoke firmly and calmly, so as to not be misunderstood or misinterpreted.

  “Nub go out.” I glared at my daughter’s band of tiny terrors in particular, shutting down their dreams of chivalric valor and mighty deeds. “Runties, stay in.” I couldn’t fail to hear the soft groan of disappointment that arose, when I singled them out in particular. There must have been a note of finality or command in my voice, because the girls all nodded silently and withdrew, heading to their burrows and nests without further complaints. The girls in my nest were already worn out beyond all endurance and fading fast… Assuming Sara didn’t slip all three of them something to help them rest, which seemed more and more likely when they all curled into a snuggly ball under the furs.

  “Thera… you choose. Fight, flee or guard?”

  “I’ll fight with you, sensei… but I still think we should flee. Trolls are no easy foe, even for armored knights or skilled Adventure bands.” She mumbled urgently.

  “Hurt my Sapphie. Scared the girls.” I answered firmly, ending the debate. We had an hour or so before full sundown, so I settled in by the hearth with Emmie curled up beside me, warm and sleepy. Sarafina and my vassal settled down nearby, once they realized I wasn’t giving in. “Tell more. Talk of trolls.”

  “Trolls are one of the less pleasant of several possible outcomes, when a goblin man is forced across the void.” Sara murmured quietly. “They are nearly un-killable; without specialized equipment or potent mages. Trolls are also profoundly skilled at finding and slipping through fissures in the veil between worlds, usually with a few subordinate goblin males following along. That’s why the Light cult values them so highly.”

  “Cult? How?” I asked, confident that the witch would understand my question, despite my paucity of elaborate or eloquent verbiage.

  “In barren, wide open places like this, wild goblins are few in number and can evade human slave raiders with ease. Those lazy shits can’t bear to wander the wastelands hunting us, so the cult turns their pet trolls and ogres loose in these places, with promises of rewards if they return with slaves. Ogres and trolls love liquor, cooked foods and the flesh of human children; they always return to the human towns, to trade goblins for the things they prize.” Sara sighed weakly.

  “Now I wanna kill it even more.” I growled through a torn lip and a mouthful of blood.

  “To kill a troll, the creature’s heart and brain must both be completely ruined, before either organ can regenerate. Its size, ferocity, tenacity and rapid healing are troublesome enough… Without metal tools, this is an almost impossible task.” Thera whispered, placing a hand on my knee without realizing it… for a second or two.

  We all three sat there for a moment, the witch, the slave girl and the goblin king, silently looking at the gray striped, furry hand resting on my green, knobby knee.

  “I hear. If troll nub comes, nub hunt. We move at dawn.” I mumbled carefully. “Ghnash sees wisdom.” Both women sighed and relaxed a little when I smiled at them. “Thera’s nub scared of king anymore…” I mumbled quietly. “Nub be scared of dumb troll.”

  Her big, wide, golden eyes met mine in that dim, dark goblin den, lit only by the embers in the fireplace. She smiled at me for the first time ever, when Emmie, Saphhie and Beryl started snoring in three part harmony.

  “Yes, sensei…” Thera whispered, so as to not wake my wives and daughter, as we left them there, snug among the furs. “Let us prepare to greet our foe.”

  Thera and I made our preparations in near silence, selecting our weapons from my newly expanded armory of stone-age toys with care. The beast had us outmatched in reach, strength, mass, endurance and general toughness, which required a more considered approach. She went heavy on short, fletched javelins and a pair of obsidian tomahawks, along with her splendid sword of keen edged and shining steel.

  I had the advantage of being able to draw stuff from my shadow at need, so long as no one was directly watching me. I wanted to be ready for anything, so it was a little bit of everything for me. Darts, javelins, caltrops, toxins, irritants and any other nasty trick I could scheme up all went up my sleeves, figuratively speaking.

  “Are you certain, sensei?” Thera asked, when I stripped bare and oiled up with duck and goose fat before battle. “If ever a time was to wear armor…” She murmured, shooting a worried glance at the crayfish carapace suit standing empty on an armor rack in the corner.

  “Troll strong. Too strong. Armor nub help. Sorry about dong.” My faltering speech and clear embarrassment at being naked in front of her brought a charming giggle to her feline lips.

  “I have become accustomed to your ways, sensei… You wander around unclothed more than you think and the ladies constantly regale me with tales of your prowess...” She smirked at me and giggled again, while I struggled with the lingering prudish attitudes left over from my human life, once more. “Just be careful where you aim that thing.” She gutted me with that one, savoring her total victory and laughing at me, as I retrieved my kilt and buckled it on.

  “Nub shorts, though… Gotta be free to move.” I grumbled at my friend, as we stepped out into the yard to await our guest.

  /

  A low, dense fog rose from the marshlands as the sun fully set at last, releasing him from his muddy bower to seek meat at last. Ignattz skulked around the edge of that strange wall of thorny, toxic and entangling plants, eyeing the acidic, stinging berries dangling here and there among the pointy things. He could jump over, or crash through… But what awaited him? That cat and her goblin slave were troublesome and none of the runties or girls were outside, so he felt reluctant to just hop in. Not that he was afraid! Nub-nub! Ignattz left fear behind! He was troll, undying hunger and fury made flesh! His asshole did still smart from the spear that the awful runtie had stuck up him… “Why all the cursed beads and feathers?” He whined, scratching helplessly at the annoying objects still lodged inside his back-end.

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  The pain and misery of digging them out of his butt with his claws was a strong deterrent, especially when he was so damned hungry. “Meat… That’s the thing!” He gasped, when desperation and frustration finally overruled his natural caution. In utter silence, he leapt the tall plants, landing in a crouch among the berry bushes and peered into the steam and mist, searching for movement.

  Searing pain lanced into his side from a small cluster of feathers that bloomed on his scaly flank, where a long, weighted dart pierced him. He roared with fury and plucked at the small weapon, scrabbling wildly when the shaft came away easily and that jagged, barbed head remained inside.

  “You’ve entered the thirty-sixth chamber of Shaolin!” The cat hissed at the furious troll. “You must think first, before you move.” She taunted him, while leaping nimbly to the high, tiled roof and perching at the very peak. “Toad style is immensely strong, and immune to nearly any weapon. When it’s properly used, it’s almost invincible.” She jeered down at her furious adversary, mockery and superiority drenching every word.

  Ignattz hurled the short stick and cluster of feathers at the cat woman, perched atop the roof, smugly jeering at him. Two more of the stubby darts slammed into him at hip, thigh and back, while the cat’s goblin slave sprinted past, casting a fistful of flint tipped bamboo darts at his face.

  He roared again, wiping a few needles from the quickly regenerating ruin of his left eye. Ignoring the goblin, he leapt for the cat, who straddled the high, tiled peak of the inn. Her maniacal laugh chittered out while she scampered around, flinging more javelins and darts at him…

  Long, slim spears headed with fragile obsidian glass flew from the mist below; they shattered when they missed his flesh, just as the darts and stubby javelins came apart on impact, leaving nothing to fling back at his prey.

  Ignattz scrabbled at the smooth, slick roof-tiles of glazed ceramic, only able to cling with his claws at the gaps between tiles on the steep, smooth surface… Rising fog only made his grip more precarious and slick, further complicated by the lurking goblin slave, somewhere in the fog.

  “Shaolin shadow boxing and The Wu-Tang sword style…” A hoarse, raspy voice giggled from the shadows, the goblin man was chanting nonsense words as he darted through the mist and bushes, flinging darts and other small weapons at him from afar. “Could be dangerous!”

  “Once I finish with the cat, I’ll eat your legs, goblin; so you live and can watch what I’ll do to your females…” Ignattz gurgled as he slipped a few feet down that high, steep roof, the cat dancing out of reach before he could even make a grab.

  Without skipping a beat, the cat woman danced to the side and flung a short, stone headed axe at him, chopping savagely into his forearm. Blood gushed from the wound in a flood, slicking the tiles and spilling Ignattz down several feet farther in his perilous climb. The heavy stone axe head and short shaft came apart, before the nimble troll could snatch it up and throw it back, just as the goblin’s many slender spear shafts broke, lodging the stone points in his guts.

  “Engarde… I’ll let you try my Wu-Tang sword!” The goblin man sneered, brandishing a slim wooden stick sword, down on the close cropped lawn below him. As if at a signal, a clay jar of warm cooking fat flew from the cat woman’s hands, to shatter and grease the entire roof with tasty, slippery goodness. The well lubed troll slid in a wildly thrashing tangle of battered and damaged flesh, to bump ignominiously onto his still punishingly tender ass at the goblin’s feet.

  The gobb’s ridiculous stick sword slashed across him three times before Ignattz could even gather his slippery feet under himself and stand, never mind attack. Pain ripped across his chest and both shoulders at the stinging, swift little lash. The horrid little turd sprang back, clutching his wooden toy, now a broken twig and no threat at all.

  “Ignattz is troll… Gobbo. This is the difference in our strength!” He sneered, rising to his full height, starlight gleaming on his smooth, intact skin, under a sheen of fat.

  “Oh! All healed up?” The little goblin asked sweetly, as he skittered away, hiding among the shrubs and mist. “Ghnash asks, only ‘cause you look a little… weak.” Blood bubbled and foamed at his torn and ragged lips, as the nasty wretch japed and sneered at his superior.

  Ignattz roared again, even more angry now, especially since he did feel a little weak, after all; and hungry, so hungry! The troll hurtled into the mist, tearing up shrubs and knocking down small trees, pursuing that hideous voice, always taunting him from just over there…

  “Don’t forget me!” The cat sang, as she slipped from a mist shrouded willow bower and skewered him through the guts, before vanishing into the swirling steam and fog.

  Coated with delicious bird fat and lost in a misty, steam drenched garden of nightmares, even his nose couldn’t guide Ignattz to his prey. Instead, they found him, relentlessly and constantly. One could and would appear briefly from almost anywhere at any time, slashing or stabbing him from the flanks and behind.

  Seeing one foe meant the other was near, waiting to strike… Except when it didn’t and the other would attack from afar with thrown javelins or darts. Ignattz winced and groaned with every movement, as the hard objects stuck inside him shifted, slashed or pinched. He could even hear when they clicked against each-other inside him, or worse, grated on his bones.

  /

  In the dark, with the steam and mist cloaking the garden, I felt free to rearrange the scenery, whenever the troll looked away. Steaming pools appeared and vanished, trees, bushes and such did likewise, constantly disorienting and misdirecting him in some pretty diabolical ways. His screams and roars were also constant now, though they were getting weaker as the battle wore on and on.

  I vanished my waterskin away and took the beast’s aggro, distracting it from Thera and allowing her a moment to rest and come back again from a new angle. Stealing aggro took more and more effort with each pass, as the creature became more fixated on Thera, despite the damage I was doing to it.

  To be fair, so far everything I’d done was aimed at getting my inscribed stone, shell and bone bits under his skin… that’s why each weapon was smeared with my home-made healing ointment. I wanted him stuffed with my little toys, nasty barbed needles carved of bone, obsidian glass shards, jagged, keen edged fragments of bone and flint all nestled in his flesh, securely healed over. At least a few spear points got jammed deep in his bowels or between and among his ribs to stay.

  Thera was tiring fast, faster than my multitude of tiny curses was draining the beast, a point driven firmly home by her soft yowl of pain, as the troll raked two claws down her flank.

  “Retreat. I finish this.” I growled, while the monster retreated before my flashing spear. I jabbed the slim, flint tipped bamboo rod into his pelvis, low down in his matted pubes. I gave the weapon a bend and twist, snapping it off, once the stone point drew a gush of blood. I followed up with a ‘snowball’ of stinging, acidic salts, chili pepper dust and obsidian flakes, all compressed together with a bit of starch and egg whites. The crispy baked treat shattered its face, sprinkling its eyes with unpleasantness and provided me with cover to draw a new weapon.

  I gripped my newest oar shield by its tail and leapt, swinging for the pale, barely visible marks where I’d slashed his right shoulder in my first flurry of attacks. The fragments of shell left a distinct line, if one knew where to look, a line where the flesh looked just a little different from the rest. While he was blinded by salt, acid and razor-keen glass shards, I ripped my stone aged weapon down on his collarbone like prime Sonny Chiba. I was going for the classic ‘horse slashing style’ from my favorite samurai movies.

  I giggled madly, as my brutal attack lodged my awful, completely shattered weapon in his ribcage, a third of the way to his sternum. Blood fountained from his mouth, as the beast staggered and gagged in shock at the terrible wound… I didn’t wait to see what I’d wrought, A stone edged war-club appeared in my hand, a mere heartbeat before I drove it down on his other shoulder, splitting him almost as far.

  The monster groaned something incomprehensible through a mouthful of blood and vomit, as he turned and bunched up his legs, hoping to leap into the darkness and flee.

  The beast’s leap for freedom became an ungainly sprawl, when another of Thera’s javelins flew by, skewering him in the lower back and fouling his escape. I pounced in the instant, standing on his back and jabbing one spear or javelin into him after another. In a few seconds, his back bore the aspect of a mangled porcupine, bristling with broken off shafts and bleeding wounds. Flint knives, more darts, another flint hatchet or six; I pummeled, stabbed and hacked with everything I had for what seemed like hours…

  With a furious and desperate roar, it bucked and thrashed, hurling me aside. In a flash, it leapt away, gushing blood and trailing broken weapons in its wake, leaping over the hedge into the darkness. Two long, gristly and nasty green arms lay on the grass when he fled, the claws still slowly flexing in mindless rage.

  “That’s finished. Nub worry.” I grunted, while helping Thera into the house. “Sara, Help!” The old witch bustled out and helped me pull the bleeding cat woman inside and onto a table for a little sewing. Two three inch long gashes ran down her side, peeling back unpleasantly and releasing a steady flood of her red stuff onto my floor.

  “Begone, goblin. This is my work, oh great fool of a king.” Sara scolded me. “Go outside and guard against its return… or something! Men, useless most days and a nuisance even when needed! “Hold still while I mend you, silly cat. Let’s keep most of that blood inside you!” Her stream of insults and complaints chased me outside, which meant my vassal was going to be fine… I hoped.

  With nothing else to do, I collected the troll arms, which included a good chunk of shoulder and tucked them into my shadow. That was my intent, anyway… instead, I slapped my own ass with the slowly flexing green arms. They stubbornly refused to enter my shadow, as if they were living things…

  “Oh! Bonus!” I couldn’t hide my grin as I rolled them up in a straw mat plucked from my storage and tied them up tight. “This is gonna be fun on a bun!”

  After a few minutes, Sarafina opened the front door and let me back in my house at last. Thera lay in my nest by the hearth, curled up with my wives and Sapphie, peacefully asleep with a wide bandage wrapped around her middle. A smelly, herb poultice distended the bandage and seeped green goo through the coarse swamp linen wrappings, which was better than blood, I supposed.

  “She will be fine in a few days. She is young and strong, those often go hand in hand with stupidity and courage...” Sara scolded me firmly. “I suppose it will take some time to heal and return… We should be able to escape to another shard before then.”

  “Nub nub. It can nub heal. Cursed. Must dig out all my curses, to heal, but no arms or claws.” I giggled a little madly at the thought. “Troll left arms. Right arms too…” I held out my slowly squirming green trophies and laughed at the unseen stars beyond my cozy, snug roof. “Arms still alive. He nub can grow back.” It was worth the self inflicted oral bloodshed to share my delightful news with my favorite witch.

  “Cursed stones? Is that what you were doing? You devious and evil goblin…” Sara muttered with pride. “I shudder to think what wickedness you will do next. Can’t wait to see it!”

  /