The Broken Sword - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Dis world iz ded," Roktooth said, staring around and squinting.

Yamara smirked but chose not to make a comment on his ability to point out the obvious. They were resting for a few moments in the shade of some rocks that looked as though they had been thrust up through the crust of the ground. Yamara judged that roughly another four hours would pass before it began to cool down as the suns set.

"Not dead, dying," Yamara sighed, deciding the troll needed an education if they were to have any chance of success. Yamara thought back and remembered her talks with the pudarin woman Sandala from what seemed like a lifetime ago. "There are elves here, or something like them. They call themselves Pudarin. Humans as well, called humans, no less," Yamara smirked. "A branch of humans, shorter and stronger and separate, are known as Acathians."

Yamara took stock of the situation. Speed was good, but the troll refused to abandon his heavy plate mail and she suspected before long he would be ready to drop from heat exhaustion. She decided now was as good a time as any to give him a clue about the world they found themselves on.

"Legend has it that humans arrived a few thousand years ago, descending on great skiffs from the sky. There was a great war, though I know little of it. Apparently a peace ensued, of some sort. The Acathians, ever since, became a lesser race, or rather a race of workers. I guess they lost the war," Yamara said, smiling thinly.

"Another race of people live here, they are called faradwim. They are similar to lizardmen, yet they are much larger and far more friendly," Yamara paused, realizing something. "Then again, the one I met was decent enough, I don't suppose they all are though."

"Your weapons and coins and especially your armor is worth enough here to earn a dagger in your back in a dark alley," she continued. "This world has little in the way of metal, just enough to make every bit of it all the more precious, so keep them to yourself and guard it closely should we encounter anyone."

"The Gods of Viconia have no sway in this world," she said, gazing into the distance and watching the hot air rise in shimmering waves off of the sun baked ground. "Magic is not practiced either, save for a kind of power they call mentalism."

"Almost everyone here has some mental talent or other," she said, "though according to someone I met here before it seems everyone possesses the ability, of this world or not. The trick is having it awoken with you."

"Enough time has been wasted," Yamara said, standing up abruptly. The more she tried to remember what she knew of Acathia the more she remembered all to well what had happened the last time she had been to Acathia. How she had treated people who meant her only kindness unfairly. She had no desire to relive it. "Let us be on our way, and try not to fall too far behind when the suns heating your armor causes you to roast alive."

Without so much as a groan Rocktooth regained his feet. As the twin suns were setting, slowly, he did begin to feel the heat a little less. It was still painfully bright and threatened to suck the life from him, however. It was only with extreme self-discipline that he remembered not to drain his water skins prematurely.

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Three days later Yamara drove the lumbering and exhausted troll on. He rarely had time for words, so miserable was he in the harsh climate. At best she could get a grunt or two out of him. She had spotted the trail of her prey two days back, causing her to increase their pace. Now Rocktooth's water was gone and her skins were nearly empty as well. She took great comfort in the fact that she somehow knew they would be coming upon an oasis soon. Something in the land and the air about her seemed to tell her as much.

Since returning to Acathia Yamara's senses had been expanding. Her awareness of herself and of the world around her was growing with each passing day, making her feel more at ease. The familiarity with which she treated Acathia both surprised her and made her feel at ease. She knew it was Brina's doing. The part of the girl she carried within her, made stronger by her brief contact with the realm of the dead in Thoragloorin, was happy to be back home.

"Here," Yamara said, taking off her final waterskin and sipping from it before passing it to the troll. "Finish it, we'll find more soon."

Rocktooth snatched it out of her hand, stopping only second before he emptied it into his mouth. He paused and looked at her, to dehydrated to spit out the dust in his mouth. "Why yooz say dat?"

Yamara smirked, "Because otherwise we'll die."

Rocktooth's eyes widened. He stared at the waterskin suspiciously, as though the simple object could somehow be at fault. Then he shrugged and held the pouch to his mouth and finished it, swallowing three times before it was gone. A low rumble that might have been mistaken for an earthquake followed. Yamara looked at the troll, her amusement at the joke she was playing on the simpleton wearing thin.

"Skooz me," Rocktooth said with a sheepish grin.

Yamara muttered something under her breath that reflected unfavorably on the relationship of trolls with their mothers then set off again, heading out into the morning light and into a slight crevasse that wound its way down a ridge of broken rocks. Rocktooth followed, expending just enough energy to shoot a hateful glance at the larger of the two suns that was rising into the sky.

The crevasse opened into a hidden valley that was all but impossible to see had they not been on the trail of those that came before them. Those that took the blade that they sought with them. Yamara pulled up short and Rocktooth gasped. Tough desert grass could be seen poking up in clumps. It was brown and dry, but it lived, proof of moisture and life. Further in they could see a few spiny cacti as well, more proof of water.

A thought that Yamara did not know she possessed came to her then. It was a rumor that held that by cutting off the top of one of the barrel shaped cactus plants the soft pulp inside could be squeezed to obtain water, or just chewed as it was. She thought of telling her unwanted companion and seeing him go after it. With a sigh she refrained, knowing that while the cactus might have moisture within it, it would make her sick and, even though he was a troll, perhaps Rocktooth as well.

"Derz water here?" Rocktooth asked her, looking around anxiously as though a fountain or a stream would suddenly appear.

"Be silent, you oaf!" Yamara snapped, sending a look that promised daggers his way. He recoiled in surprise, then scowled back at her when she turned her head away from him.

"We have been gaining on them, they might still be here," she explained, moving forward cautiously. Yamara took nothing for granted and scanned every inch of terrain before them with her eyes as well as her enhanced senses.

Yamara looked around a corner to find a group of large lizardmen, or faradwim as they were called her, moving along the path. They were armed with spears with stone points and javelins of similar construction. She ducked back and motioned towards Rocktooth to hurry to meet her. He lumbered along the path to catch up, his heavy armor clanking loudly and ruining any chance for surprise. Yamara slipped into some shadows and disappeared from view.

Rocktooth pulled up short, surprised at her sudden disappearance. He looked back and forth for her, baffled. The first of the patrol of faradwim rounded the corner then, refocusing his attention. The lizardman held his spear ready and approached rapidly, his purpose clear. He wavered a moment as he beheld just what sort of a creature Rocktooth was, for he had never seen a troll before.

The hesitation cost the faradwim its life. Rocktooth's axe cut through one arm and into its side, crushing and cleaving scales, bone, and organs beyond repair. He let the axe go and drew two swords, one large enough that Yamara would be hard pressed to wield it in two hands and the other slightly smaller and with a tapered edge to the blade.

Rocktooth parried the spear of the next faradwim and thrust his shorter sword into the creatures stomach, tearing it out in such a way that deaf was imminent. He bellowed and charged into the remaining six members of the patrol, lashing out with his trollish strength and surprising skill.

While Rocktooth fought Yamara slipped around the battle and moved deeper into the valley. She found several huts where other faradwim dealt. They apparently owned the oasis. She slipped through the outskirts of the town, blending in with her surroundings in a way that she had not known she would be able to do. She silently thanked Brina again, inexplicably feeling her close by, and stopped only when she encountered a cage made of the bones of one of the large reptilian mounts that was used on Acathia. Within it lay the last person she expected to see.

Rocktooth hacked and slashed with abandon, accepting hits he could have blocked in the way of a true troll warrior. What was a little pain now compared to landing a greater blow on his enemies, especially when it would heal with the speed so common to all trolls.

With the last lizardman of the first patrol sliding off of his sword Rocktooth stopped and breathed deeply. He was winded from the fight, though he should not have been. He understood immediately that it had to do with the heat of the thrice cursed world they found themselves on. He bent over and wrenched his axe free of the faradwim and looked up in time to see a fresh wave round the corner towards him. He threw his axe at them mindlessly and grabbed up one of the spears the lizardmen had used. He threw that as well, drawing his swords and following after it.

Rocktooth felt himself slowing as he fought. Still the lizardmen fell about him, but his arms grew heavier and the pain from their stone-headed spears was harder to ignore. He roared in rage as a spear slipped through a niche in his armor and poked into the back of his knee. He fell to one knee and lashed out with his curved blade, cutting the faradwim behind him in half. A large rock slammed into his chest next, sending him sprawling backwards.

The lizardmen rushed him, stabbing down with their spears and trying to finish him off. One spear broke against his armored cuirass, others deflected away. They rose and fell repeatedly, seeking an entrance to his armor. Rocktooth bellowed and flailed about, cutting into legs and whatever else his swords could reach. Then a sandaled foot stepped heavily on his arm, pinning it to the ground. Rocktooth looked over, yanking his other sword to dislodge it from the ankle it was lodged in.

An axe with an obsidian edge crashed down into his wrist, shattering the head of it but also severing his wrist. Blood spurted thickly from it, then thinned and congealed rapidly. Rocktooth howled and yanked his sword free, plunging it deeply into the belly of the faradwim that had severed his hand.

"Youz stoopids gonna pay fer dat!" He roared, rising to his feet and hacking with a berserk rage into anything that moved near him.

In a few moments the faradwim were slain or had retreated. Rocktooth regained some of his senses and felt how exhausted he was. He looked around and saw himself surrounded by a ring of at least a dozen of the lizardmen. They were easily his size, if somewhat less stout then he. He stabbed his sword into the ground and reached down, head up and eyeing his opponents warily.

The troll picked up his severed hand and held it against the stub on his arm. When it touched he grunted and snarled, revealing his sharp teeth to them. They had begun to approach but at his expression they backed up a few feet. Rocktooth let go of his hand and wrenched his sword free of the hard packed ground.

"Who'z next?" He asked, flexing the hand that had reattached itself to his forearm.

The faradwim backed up again, stunned and amazed at how he had healed. A few threw down their swords and ran away, while others remained standing and awed. Rocktooth bent down, seeing no immediate assault forthcoming, and picked up his other blade so that he could dual wield again.

Seeing the troll fully healed and fully armed again, the courage of the remaining soldiers broke. They fled, running back into their small village ahead. Rocktooth waited a moment, surprised by the turn of events, then chuckled. He sheathed his blades and picked up the severed arm of one of his fallen combatants. He took a bite out of it, his teeth rending through the scales and tearing the flesh free of it. He chewed a few times then spat it out in disgust. He spat a few more times, trying to rid his mouth of the taste, then stomped angrily towards the village.

"Stoopid lizardz duzzint even have da good sense to taste good!"

Continued in Chapter 15

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