Bound to the Abyss (11 page)

By her flushed cheeks, it was clear that she hadn’t heard any of it before. Bran also looked impressed, walking along behind them with the horse still in tow.
 

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Jaslen said breathlessly. “You know more about the Abyss than the entire village combined.”
 

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk more during our trip.” Ean did his best to look stoic, but inwardly he was sighing with relief. Jaslen and Bran would give him some space now if they thought he was upset. He could use that time to try and get some more information to feed them from Zin tonight.

They returned to walking along without saying much for the rest of the day. Both Bran and Jaslen hung back with the horse, which was fine with Ean. He had grown uncomfortable after the conversation had ended. It had become natural for him to lie in the past; it kept him out of trouble and on occasion kept trouble from finding him. But it felt wrong now. Bran and Jaslen were being open about a subject that was taboo in their village, and as far as he knew the rest of the world. Didn’t they deserve honesty in return? The thought put him in a sour mood.

Chapter 8

SECRETS

Without conversation to lighten the mood, the path through the mountain felt even more cold and barren. Few trees grew up out of the rocky ground and cliff faces. A chill wind constantly whistled through the pass. They gathered what few branches and sticks they found along the way so they could make a small fire when they stopped for the night. Unexpected bursts of wind would howl through the pass like the cry of a wounded animal. At twilight they reached the halfway point of the path, putting them that much closer to the village of Rensen.
 

Twice as wide as the rest of the path but just as barren, the halfway point was as welcoming as the bottom of a boot. It made the lack of trees and plants all the more obvious. The added space also gave them less protection from the wind, which blew constantly and put a chill in Ean’s bones.

They moved about the area, setting up their meager camp. They each took their time as there was little else to do once the sun had set. Ean and Bran focused on their tents while Jaslen set up the fire and got to work on their dinner. Ean was glad that Bran refrained from asking any questions about the Abyss. It had been a long and tiring trek up the path. Ean was looking forward to a quick meal and then off to bed.

Jaslen had a stew of beans and potatoes simmering over the fire by the time the tents were set up. The group gathered around, still silent, as they waited for the broth to warm. Every now and then, the wind would shriek through the pass, overwhelming the crackle of the fire. The three, now used to the sound, would look to each other and let out weak laughs, which relieved some of the tension that had crept into the group.

While they waited for the stew to cook, Bran moved away from Jaslen and took out his sword. Taking a piece of stone from his pocket, he began to run it up and down the blade’s edge while she continued to monitor the stew.

“I can’t believe we’re actually out of the village,” Bran said. “I never imagined I would leave at all, let alone one season after my twentieth birthday.”

“I didn’t think I would have the chance to leave for years, especially after…” Ean glanced at Bran then quickly looked away. “Krane stole most of my money.”

Bran’s face reddened, but he did not look away. “Ean, I truly am sorry about my brother. I have no idea why he holds such a grudge towards you. I promise when we get back and the monster is taken care of, I will make it my mission to have all of your money returned.”

Ean dismissed the comment with the wave of a hand. “I would worry less about my money and more about what other horrible things—” he paused a moment as a particularly loud shriek of the wind interrupted him. There was something different about it this time, something that made Ean glance around the clearing. Bran and Jaslen paused at what they were doing and scanned the cliff faces.

When the sound failed to repeat, Ean’s muscles relaxed until he noticed his right hand had gone numb. Clasping and unclasping his fingers, he wondered if his glove had cut off his circulation.

Jaslen let out a light yelp. She was staring up behind Bran into the mountains, her one hand on her mouth and her other pointing in the direction she was looking. Both Bran and Ean turned in unison, trying to focus in the direction she was pointing.

Poking its head out over a ridge not so high above them was one of the ugliest faces Ean had ever seen. About twice as wide as a normal human face, its head was covered in scars and pockmarks. Its skin looked like someone had stretched a normal person’s face out and then stuck it into a hornet’s nest. Its narrow ears stuck out, pointing away from its head, and its chubby nose was just as long. The creature’s eyes were hidden deep in their sockets.
 

“What in the blazes is that?” Ean said, slowly getting to his feet.

Bran was frowning but didn’t seem too concerned. “It looks like a mountain troll. They come down into the valley on occasion but are timid and easy to scare off. I’ve had more trouble with mountain bears than with trolls the past few years of patrolling the village.”

“Looks like a troll or is a troll?” Ean wasn’t about to relax. There was something in Bran’s voice, a slight question in his tone that kept him on edge.

 
“Well, yes and no. Something about it isn’t quite right. It looks…bigger than the ones I’ve had to scare off.” He shrugged and kept his eye on the troll. “They usually aren’t much of a problem. Simple creatures with simple needs. It probably just caught the smell of our stew and thought it might find an easy meal. I doubt it will come close now that it’s seen us.”

He returned to sharpening his blade, but every now and then he would glance in the creature’s direction. Jaslen returned to her task of stirring the stew, her eyes repeatedly flickering at Bran.

Not feeling the least bit comforted, Ean watched the creature. Bran was right; there was something strange about this troll, but not because of its appearance. Ean could feel it. In the same way he could feel Zin a few paces a way without even looking for his tell-tale blur. What did it mean? Lost in thought, he didn’t notice when the creature’s head disappeared from view.
 

“See?” Bran said, a little bit of tension leaving his voice. “Nothing to worry about. It’s probably moved on to find an easier meal.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jaslen said, a forced laugh accompanying her words. “I only made enough stew for the three of us.” She lifted the ladle out of the pot, bringing a small amount to her lips. “Shouldn’t be too much longer now, and then we can eat.”

Ean could still feel the thing out there in the mountains. It was moving, circling around their camp and steadily making its way closer. He stood, keeping his body facing in the same direction as where he felt the creature. He felt Zin move too, away from the tents and towards where Ean was standing. Ean frowned, not sure what to make of any of it.
 

“You’re sure the troll isn’t anything to worry about?” He directed the question to Bran without looking in his direction.

“Of course. Someone even younger than us could scare one off with a little effort. I’m sure seeing the three of us will keep it away. You really don’t have to be afraid, Ean.” He said the last part with a chuckle, Jaslen joining in a few moments later.
 

Ean ground his teeth, anger washing away any concern over the creature moving about. “I am not scared!” It came out as a yell even though he had meant to simply state it. They both stopped laughing, Jaslen looking at him with pity while Bran looked down at the ground.

“Ean, I was joking. Really.” Bran said, the sincerity clear in his voice. “You really need to learn not to take things so personally.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be calling people—” Ean was on the verge of yelling again when a loud thud cut him off, followed by inhuman screams. Spinning towards the noise, Ean saw a gruesome sight.

The troll had taken their horse to the ground and was crouched over it, its right side facing them. The horse was flailing around in an attempt to get up, but the troll had it pinned with its large, muscular arms. The troll’s face was buried in the side of the horse, great tearing sounds coming from it, mixing with the whinnying of the horse and the wind’s howl.

Bran leapt to his feet, his sword gripped tightly in his hand as he rushed to the horse’s aid. Jaslen remained motionless. She seemed frozen in a sitting position on the ground, soft sobs escaping her throat as she watched the horse being devoured. Ean was frozen in place as well, his emotions a mixture of fear and curiosity.
 

“Stay here; I’ll get rid of it.” Bran said over his shoulder, the confidence in his movements not matching the tone of his voice. He was at the horse’s side in moments, his blade slashing out and catching the troll on its right arm before it even knew he was there. The blade cut deep. A thick substance similar to blood spurt into the air. When the troll let out a familiar howl, Ean realized that they had been mistaking the sound of the wind throughout the day. It stood to its full height and moved back a pace or two, allowing Ean to see the troll completely.

The troll stood twice as tall as Bran. Strips of fur hung from its muscular yellow body. The troll’s face was cratered with scars and pockmarks. Lumps and boney protrusions grew out of its skull and shoulders in random patterns. Its long arms hung down at its sides, the hands swinging at its knees, long claws extending from each finger. Where Bran’s blade had hit, there was a large gash with a reddish-blue liquid that Ean assumed was its blood dribbling down the arm.

“Stay back!” Bran yelled, his sword weaving about in front of his body. “I think this one is sick!”
 

The troll’s attention was locked on Bran now, its dark, yellow eyes now visible in the firelight. It moved into a crouching position, its knees bent and the knuckles of its large hands resting on the ground. With a growl, it launched itself at Bran. The speed of the creature caught the three of them off guard. All Bran could do was dive out of its way.
 

The troll landed with a crash between Bran and where Jaslen and Ean were standing. Its limbs were splayed across the ground in every direction, but it was back on its feet in an instant. Bran was on his feet as well, his eyes locked on the troll and his sword waving slowly about in front of him. The troll let out another growl but this time did not charge. Instead, it took slow, careful steps towards Bran.

While Ean was still locked in his position, unable to take his eyes off the battle, Jaslen finally started to move. Racing to the tent she shared with Bran, she grabbed the bow and quiver of arrows that were resting beside it and moved back to the fire. She had an arrow nocked and ready to go.

“I can’t get a good shot! It’s too close!” Her voice wavered as she spoke, but she kept the bow steady.

Bran circled to his right as he waved his blade in a slow and deliberate manner. The troll followed him, loping along on both its hands and feet to his left. It limped slightly whenever it put any weight on its right arm, but otherwise it seemed to ignore the wound. Jaslen slowly started to move around the beast in Bran’s direction, the arrow in her bow still ready to fly.

The troll charged. Bran dodged and scored a long slash across its back with his blade. The troll let out a moan, stumbled, then fell forward onto its face. It scrambled to rise, falling over once or twice, before finally regaining its feet. It turned about, its eyes scrunched together and a snarl touching its lips, as it started towards Bran again.

The twang of a bowstring sounded behind Ean. Something whizzed past his ear. As if by magic, an arrow appeared in the troll’s left leg. Way to go, Jaslen, he silently cheered.

The troll stumbled from the impact. With a grunt, it swatted at the shaft with one large hand, breaking most of the shaft off, leaving the arrow head imbedded in its yellow flesh. It looked around for a moment until its eyes fell on Jaslen at the same moment she notched another arrow. Those yellow eyes, set deep into the sockets, narrowed as the beast charged towards Jaslen.

Caught off-guard by the beast’s change of target, Bran did his best to get in front of the creature. It shouldered him out of the way. Jaslen let loose the arrow she had ready, but it flew wide. With a scream, she raised her bow, swinging it about in a feeble attempt to stop the troll’s charge. The bow caught the creature across one of its arms, but it barreled right into her anyway.

The two went to the ground with a crash, legs and arms intertwined. Jaslen’s small frame made her look like an infant compared to the size of the troll. Ean leapt into action. He grabbed the end of a burning branch out of the cooking fire on his way to help. As fast as Ean moved, Bran was faster. He reached the troll just as Jaslen and the creature stopped tumbling along the ground. He thrust the point of his blade with measured movements, careful that his attacks stayed clear of Jaslen’s body.

Unfortunately, the jabs seemed to do little more than enrage the troll even further. It lashed out with a thick foot, catching Bran directly in the stomach and launching him into the air. Ean got there before Bran hit the ground. He slammed the flaming branch down onto the back of the troll. The blow did little harm, but the flame started to light the animal skins the troll was wearing on fire. Ean received a large backhand to his side and across his body by the beast for his troubles, but it did roll off and away from Jaslen. Ean stumbled backward from the blow, the branch dropped from his grip before he fell to the ground.

As soon as Ean hit stone, he tried to rise back up but a shiver of pain shook his body. Looking down he noticed three slash marks cutting through his shirt, stomach high. A faint seepage of red starting to moisten the edges of each tear.

The troll was busy trying to smother the flames. It rolled about violently, past Ean and Bran, before it stopped near Jaslen. She was still lying on the ground, face down, arms and legs splayed out and not moving. Her red hair was covering her face and matted together in places. Ean’s vision blurred with his pain as he tried to focus on the fight.