The Troll's Trove Ch. 17-20

Chapter 17 - Dawn Gate

A

swarm of mosquito specs roiled before Turls's unfocused eye. Pain used his head like a drum. Booted feet moved in and out of his blurred vision.

"Sir, sir!" someone cried. The words were only just audible over the ringing in Turls's ears. The watchman he'd stabbed fell to one knee beside him. He clutched his arm in a loose end of his tabard. A dark stain rapidly consumed the green material.

Turls strained to see beyond the crimson splattered snow. His eye throbbed and his skull splintered like crushed ice with every pulse.

The thrice-cursed bitch-whelp of Wilhelm fled. Jorn leapt after her only to have his feet root to the ground when another soldier cried.

"Jorn. Jorn! Jannar's wounded! Hurt bad. Sir, please, we need to get him to the surgeon." Heavy boots moved betwixt Turls and the injured man. The second watchman squatted down. Metal knocked upon the cobbles just before the guard's scabbard banged into Turls's head. Pain momentarily swamped Turls's mind.

When vision returned, Jorn's shoulders sagged. His head, like the butt of his spear, dropped. A few heartbeats passed.

"Jorn?"

The steel scales cladding Jorn's chest flexed with his sigh. His shoulders squared. He trotted back to the injured guard.

The moment Jorn lowered himself beside the wounded watchman Turls grabbed the nearest guard's scabbard and pulled.

The off-balanced guard lost his footing. Turls used his leverage and the man's momentum to drag himself up to his knees.

Willpower fought back a wave of nausea. He wrest the broadsword free of its scabbard and he rammed the blade through its hitherto owner's chest. The cusp of the bloodied steel elicited a banshee screech where it ground against the cobbles.

Turls levered against the blade and forced himself to his feet. He tore the sword free of the dying man's chest. Turls's body wove drunkenly.

The guard with the injured wrist lunged. Turls slashed. Both he and the gate-guard staggered, Turls from vertigo, the soldier from the crimson gash carved from cheek-to-cheek through the bridge of his nose. The guard dropped and threw his already injured arm up to block.

Jorn stepped between them. Turls raised his broadsword. The long blade that topped Jorn's spear chopped down like an axe.

Sword edge met spear-haft with a loud clack. Turls's blade dipped dangerously and he caught the flat of the broadsword in his off-hand. Both arms trembled before his body folded.

Pain lanced up Turls's knees as they hit the pavement. Jorn stepped in. He reversed his blow.

Gudrun's t—

The butt of Jorn's spear smashed Turls's groin. The world was swathed in a blanket of agony.

A second explosion of pain detonated on his crown. Turls's fingers opened of their own accord and his stolen sword rang against the cobblestones.

Still another blow landed. Turls's shoulder collapsed. He was falling. Before he hit pavement his head snapped back when it meet the butt of Jorn's spear once more. Blood splattered blackness exploded in the middle of his forehead. The void consumed him.

Chapter 18 - A Princess Sized Disaster

B

rynis rocked up on her toes and back down on her heels. Up, down. Forth and back. She yanked at a wavy chestnut lock that had escaped her ponytail.

Oh, my. Adalayd. Couldn't you have waited? Couldn't you have called?

The Princess' bed was more tattered than tousled. The curtains hung open. Pillows were scattered upon the floor.

That wasn't all. Adalayd's nightgown was in a pile by the open window. Nearly all the Princess' clothes were strewn in front of her wardrobe. Even the girl's boots and shoes were scattered about. Her jewelry box stood open.

Brynis bit her lip. A Princess sized disaster with no Princess.

Olina, you'd better get your derriere up here now. Where are you anyway?

Brynis worked. She stripped the bed. Sheets were piled by the door. Tear-stained pillowcases followed. So did the nightgown. She rehung the dresses that could be brushed off but the laundry piled higher.

I swear, Olina, you are going to do all the scrubbing while I watch!

Brynis placed the last of the Princess' boots on the shoe rack. The jewelry box closed. She eyed the heap of laundry. She rubbed sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She smelled sour.

I could use a bath. But no, I get laundry too. She piled the tottering load in her arms. It was as big as she was. Bigger. She shuffled her way from the room.

Bryn felt each step out with her foot. She bumped along the wall toes seeking the staircase.

Olina raced up the stair to meet her. "Oh, there you are Bryn! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Well, I was in the Princess' room. Where I was supposed to be, I might add. Where were you?" She could not keep the ire from her voice.

Olina didn't notice. Nor did she offer a hand. "Oh, Bryn, it's so exciting! I met the Prince."

"Did he tell you off for not doing the laundry?"

"King Magnar said the Prince's bed needed tidied so I went. Prince Eluf came in. Says I'm the best chambermaid he's ever had. He's going to take me back to Blackrock!"

"Good." Bryn's voice dripped with disdain. "You could've at least come up and helped me before you left. And where's Ada?"

Olina ducked her head. She ground a toe into the floor. "I was on my way to help you."

"Then help!" Brynis dumped her load at the blond maid's feet. "You do the laundry."

"What-Bryn, there's so much. It'll take forever. Did you have to strip the whole room?"

"I didn't. Ada did. Where is she anyway?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her—" Olina colored. "—since last night. After the ball. Since her room. She wasn't there?"

Shouting erupted somewhere down the hall. Brynis ignored it. "Wait. Why's Eluf taking you to Bl-When were you-You spent the night with him! Ada saw you! Didn't she?"

A crimson tide painted Olina's flesh. "I—"

A gaggle of passing soldiers struck Olina from behind. Olina staggered into Brynis.

"Make way! Coming through! Make way!"

Three soldiers coming from the yard, two supporting the third in the middle, kicked past the pile of laundry in the middle of the narrow hall. A wet, black stain ate at the supported soldier's tabard. Smaller stains bloodied the other soldier's tunics.

"Surgeon we need the surgeon!"

Brynis pushed Olina aside. "I'll fetch him."

At the sound of her voice the wounded soldier's head came up. A red line clove his face in two. Their eyes met.

The air deserted Brynis's lungs. For a moment the world narrowed to just his eyes. His face. His blood.

"Jannar. Oh, gods, Jannar!"

Chapter 19 - Cobalt Wall

K

ing Trygg came to an abrupt stop behind his desk and combed his fingers through his hair. The page hadn't returned with his sister. Elva knew something but she wasn't telling.

And where's my purse? He resumed his pacing.

"Let me through you mangy curs!" a voice roared in the hall.

Magnar.

"Sire," one of the soldiers responded from beyond the door, "His Majesty is not to be disturbed."

"Nonsense! I'm the King of Blackrock. Let me through!"

"But not of Whitewall!" The guard's voice was higher pitched than usual. A muffled thud sounded. The maple door to Trygg's office shuddered.

"Sire! I really must protest."

Trygg squared his shoulders, strode to the door and opened it. King Magnar took a step back from Trygg's two beleaguered guards. Price Eluf stood behind him with a half-bored, half-bemused look upon his face.

"It's alright, Elric, Sven, let him through," Trygg said.

The two guards stepped back. Magnar stalked past. The guards made to stop Eluf.

"Him too."

Eluff cocked an eyebrow at Trygg as he stepped over the threshold of Trygg's study. Trygg's gaze followed him as the Prince took in the royal apartments.

Trygg closed the door on his guards.

"Well," King Magnar asked before Trygg could properly greet him, "what's your answer?"

The focus of Prince Eluf's eyes sharpened for a brief moment before drifting back to Elva's knitting. Something dark, something possessive, stirred in Trygg's chest.

"King Trygg!"

Trygg tore his gaze from Prince Eluf to Eluf's infuriated and infuriating sire. "My decision?"

Magnar's eyes narrowed. "About Meadows, the horn or your sister."

Trygg's chest swelled until his ribs creaked. "I'm not forcing the Princess to marry someone she doesn't love."

Eluf shifted his weight.

What's his game? Had he-Did he-If he had feelings, might Adalayd too?

King Magnar placed his broad frame betwixt the two. "Are you going to give Prince Eluf Meadows? Or the Horn?"

Trygg looked back to his adversary. "I'm not abandoning Meadows. We're hunting my Grandsire's horn."

"Hunting the horn? You mean, you've lost it?"

"Yes, we lost it, when my Grandsire died. When Raum attacked. Right before you sacked Meadows, I might add."

King Magnar glowered at Trygg. Trygg met his ocular assault.

"Fine," Magnar snapped, "I'll give you a fortnight."

Trygg's voice turned frosty. "That's most generous of you."

"It is. May it never be said that the Kings of Blackrock are not charitable." He shouldered past Trygg and tore open the door.

"Eluf, come. We've wasted enough time here. Our city needs us.

"King Trygg, we await the Horn in Blackrock."

Prince Eluf stepped forward and bowed. His Sire scowled. When Eluf straightened he met Trygg's eyes. Trygg was sure they weren't the eyes of a love-struck boy but there was something there. He wondered what really hid behind that cobalt-blue wall.

Chapter 20 - Quadrupled

T

or's busted Billy-goats!" Magnar said, "What a pointless waste of time!"

"What's the matter, Father? I told you she wouldn't acquiesce. Not on the first night."

"I hope that slattern maid I sent your way was conciliation enough."

"Olina? You sent Olina?"

"Did she ease your pain of being rejected? Better yet, did she help you forget Lady Baron Witch Mistress Isolde in Blackrock?"

"I was-What does this have to do with the Princess?"

"The Princess wasn't the point. You there—" Magnar pointed at a random black-clad guard. "—ready our departure."

"Sire?"

"Now soldier! I'm leaving now! Ten lashes if my carriage isn't ready when I arrive in the courtyard."

"Yes, Sire! Right away, Sire!" The guard ran.

Eluf caught his father's arm. "So you planned this. You wanted Adalayd to say, 'no.' You sent Olina to make sure of that."

Magnar grunted. He strode after the fleeing guard.

"So, what was the point, Father?"

"Expanding our kingdom you half-wit! I knew I shouldn't have married your mother."

Eluf's cheeks flamed. "For which we needed the Princess!"

"No! We needed what her refusal should have bought us."

They reached the royal guest chambers. Hastily packed luggage accumulated upon the floor. The less vulnerable items were tossed from the window to the courtyard below. Whitewall's more timid help was practically trampled by their more fearful Blackrock confrere.

"The horn?" Eluf said.

Magnar stopped upon the threshold. Servants hurried by eyes down. The less wise ones tuned ears their way. Mangar grabbed his son by the sleeve and hauled him into his sleeping chamber. He motioned to the few servants there. "Out!" They scattered. The double doors closed with a boom.

"That horn is ancillary to a treaty. In the right hands, it can summon four companies from Endris. If I could have used it, if I could have twisted it to our purpose, Whitewall would have had a war on two fronts."

"War? So that rotation at Overlook? It wasn't a rotation. And the escort you left there as well. You've tripled our troops on Trygg's border."

"Quadrupled, son. Quadrupled."