The Netheril Trilogy 03 - Mortal Consequences by Forgotten Realms

Author:Forgotten Realms [Forgotten Realms]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-01-08T16:40:35+00:00

Chapter 18

Deep in the Barren Mountains....

With oil lamps and pickaxes, Oredola and Hachne explored a tall cave from which rust water trickled. Rust meant iron. But not far in they gagged on a gut-wrenching stink. A hashed coyote carcass writhed with maggots on the cave floor. The skull had been crushed as if by a stone, then gnawed by strong, dull teeth. Without a word, the dwarves pulled back.

Too late.

From the dark rustled something twice as tall as the dwarves, mottled green and scabrous black in the lamplight. Empty eye sockets drilled into their souls.

"Trolls!"

The dwarves whirled and ran on stumpy legs.

But the trolls were quick as spiders. Crud-caked claws tore at the dwarves' backpacks, ripping stiff ox hide like paper. The dwarves shucked their packs and ran faster, breath sobbing in their lungs, hobnailed boots ringing on stone and splashing in rusty water. As they reached the dim sheen of twilight, they screeched, "Help! Trolls! Help!"

Oredola felt a claw tick the back of her neck and draw blood. Without turning, she whipped her pickaxe behind, heard it thud on stony flesh, gained a second's respite, then charged into flat winter light that was overcast but blinding after the dark cave. Hachne stampeded down the narrow canyon, shouting for help.

With a screech, the trolls erupted from the cave behind. Scaly feet skittered on rock while a curious kitten's mewling whined in their throats—a sound of hunger and rage. Then Oredola heard a gasp like a death rattle at her ear. Covering the back of her neck, she threw herself flat on rough stone.

And help arrived.

Slim black arrows zipped from the sky like ospreys after fish. The shafts slammed into trolls' empty eye sockets, stabbed deep into dim brains, and hurled them backward to crash like dead men cut from the gallows.

The hideous creatures didn't die, only thrashed and pulled at the wood jammed in their skulls. Their undying thrashing was the most hideous sight of all.

Oredola rolled to her feet, grabbed up a rock hammer, and pounded the nearest troll. She knew that any limbs that she might hack off the thing would only regrow, but the dwarf hoped that breaking limbs would slow the monsters down. Having heard the zip of arrows, Hachne returned to smash his pickaxe again and again into a troll, crunching joints and mauling the thing's throat.

Soon, an elf in green and black, with long, wild black hair and a pale face joined them. Darting from her high guardpost, she'd fetched an armful of sticks and branches and feathers and fluff: an old condor's nest. Flinging the mess over the trolls, she called, "Only fire will kill them! Spill your oil!"

Swiftly the dwarves smashed lanterns atop the pyre.

Ancient dried wood and downy fluff caught immediately. The trolls gasped and sobbed horribly as the flames curled around them. Dwarves and the elf retreated down the canyon to avoid the stink.

"Well!" Oredola said as she mopped her brow with a shaking hand, slurped water from a canteen, then offered some to the elf, who took it.

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