Troll-y Yours (9 page)

Waverly kept one hand on the tree and used the other to point a shaky finger at the downhill trail that paralleled the stream. “A human hunter with a rifle chased Ella this morning. She was running—”

Aleksander’s heart skipped a beat, then slammed into high gear. On the balls of his feet, he turned and sprinted down the trail. He didn’t wait to hear the rest of her stammered story. He’d heard all he needed to know. Damn his two legs! He needed the speed of his equine body.

Deep depressions in the soft soil outlined the imprint of a man’s boot. The hunter’s length of stride, nearly the same reach as his own, told a terrifying story. Alek clearly saw the male’s footprint trail, so the human was either careless or overconfident.

One set of small prints, one set large.

Under a bush on the side of the path, visible to Alek’s sharp eyes, a light blue notebook fluttered its pages. He paused long enough to pick it up and examine the contents. Next to the name
Mr. Shaun
were the underlined words
rocks for rent
.

Aleksander kept the notebook and continued his sprint down the trail. Here the undergrowth grew thicker, trees leaned across the path. He hadn’t traveled far when the dirt path flared out, plants lay crushed on either side. No mythic of Boronda would have left visible signs like that.

Heaped under a fern with dirt and leaves kicked over to conceal it, a shiny bauble caught his eye. Alek reached under the tender fronds and pushed the dirt away. Hopelessly huge and forever ugly, he pulled Ella’s purple purse from its makeshift grave.

Twelve

T
wo sets of prints melded into one. The set with the knobby tread of thick-soled boots continued in the dirt, making deeper impressions than when they arrived.

He’s carrying her.
The hunter left an obvious trail any yearling Centaur could follow.

Aleksander thrust his chin forward and continued the pursuit. He welcomed the sun in his face when the trail marched an easterly direction, deeper into the Boronda Forest. Iridescent as fish scales, spears of sunlight broke through the canopy above, teasing green moss on the north side of trees and bathed lichen patches on rocks.

Alek scanned each fallen log and shady bush along the route, searching for clues to follow. Boughs creaked and the light breeze brought the whiff of an angry skunk. A tickle of Spanish moss brushed his ear as air currents caused it to ripple. He continued on, the only sounds were of his steps sliding through the fallen leaves.

Forty-five minutes of stealthy tracking between old growth sycamores and mammoth-sized ferns before a hunting shed came into view. Long abandoned, the weathered hut waited in the distance. Someone had performed a haphazard job of concealment with camo netting draped over the slanted tin roof, spilling down the sides.

A century earlier, the surrounding area had been clear-cut during the Wood Nymph/Centaur war. Today, soaring pines grew and the woodshed-sized structure appeared depressed in the overshadowed gloom.

Two windows faced him; one clear, the other boarded shut. From the protection of the trees, Aleksander carefully studied the footprints leading to the closed front door. About fifteen feet of open space lay between where he crouched at the tree line and the splintery grey shack.

Through the netting, sunlight reflected off the single remaining pane. The interior rested in darkness. No sounds from within.

His adrenaline spiked with the need to advance.

Alek shifted his attention behind him, backing up. He turned, intending to circle to the side of the cabin.

Steely green eyes and an upheld hand stopped him. Special Ops member Bomani, in familiar true equine form, crept to Alek’s right, anticipating his move and signaling him to follow. His four hooves were silent, knees and hocks bent. Naturally camouflaged in his dappled palomino coat, the elite Centaur warrior kept his head low and his hi-tech crossbow lower.

Alek followed likewise, and they moved a safe distance away.

Bomani stayed crouched, keeping his eyes on the hunting cabin. “Got word through the Wood Nymph network you might need backup on this one. Who’s in there? They said she’s mythic.”

Alek gave a rueful grin. Figures Bomani would be on the scene. Since his promotion, the male was everywhere at all the right times. “Unconfirmed, but I think it’s a female Troll. Perhaps the rebel who just moved into the palace neighborhood.”

Bomani nodded, his long honey-blond hair tied with an old-fashioned strip of leather. “If it’s the suspect, then you’ll need to interrogate. Not tag a body bag.”

“Affirmative.” No need to announce his personal relationship with the Troll in question. Not yet anyway.

“We have the advantage of surprise on our side. Let’s do a quick reconnoiter and take the human out.” Anticipation of a fight set the warrior’s flaxen tail into motion. It slowly swept the ground, teasing leaves and snagging twigs. He lifted his hand to palm the tiller of his handsome military crossbow. Designed and tailored specifically for Bomani’s measurements, the bone crushing power and blistering speed of the weapon made it a flagship for other instruments of attack.

Aleksander scanned the hunter’s cabin again, straining to hear any sounds from within. From what he could see, the west side didn’t have windows, but they’d have the sun in their eyes. Additional assessment was in order before he’d make the call to go in.

“We need to avoid human casualties. Queen’s orders. Last year we had human patrols in every sector for months after Rhycious and I killed the hunters who kidnapped his wife. Queen Savella wasn’t happy to put her mythological court on lockdown while human search parties roamed our woods.”

Bomani’s sharp green eyes were all business. “I wasn’t there when it happened, but I heard it was us or them. The Remedy Maker made the right call.” His muscular arms flexed under the traditional Centaur body armor vest, showcasing the width of equally muscled shoulders. Beneath the armor’s rolled bottom edge, his abdominal muscles rippled with strength before melting into a broad equine chest. “It’s your call, sir. What do you want to do?”

Alek rubbed his goatee, the scratchy whiskers helped to focus his thoughts.

Bomani reflexively reached up to scratch his own beard, which he trimmed to appear as two-day-old growth. Most likely to hide the numerous nicks and kick scars gained from bullying kids in his youth. The short statured Centaur adjusted his child-sized sword, though nothing childlike remained of the male. Pound for pound, Bomani had more guts than most warriors twice his size.

Alek would need every ounce of courage he could get if the palace—and Ella—required a battalion of defense.
Gods…keep Ella safe!

“Bomani, we’re going to need a faint.” He lowered his tone and gazed down on the soldier.

Today, size would make all the difference in the world for a diversion.

*~*~*

The human wearing a camouflage of forest colors, took out a large red apple. He began to peel it with his knife.

It was mesmerizing, watching the bright, polished silver blade move around the apple.

An impossibly thin strip began to spiral downward.

“Hey girl, if that’s what you are,” the hunter scoffed. “I wondered how long you’d be out.”

Ella’s head felt stuffed with moss, and pounded as if a Minotaur had kicked it. Tied securely by the wrists above her head to some type of swivel mechanism, her splayed arms ached horribly. Dread invaded her bones and it was hard to breathe. To reach the floor she stood on the tips of her toes and wished she could stretch taller to relieve the pressure on her shoulder joints.

With the stern-faced hunter blocking the door, she was trapped. Not to mention, he outweighed her by a hundred pounds. Even if her arms were free, she didn’t want to go anywhere near his glittering knife.

“I missed out on my last hunt. Good thing, too. My three buddies never made it back,” he sneered. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

The peel slowly fell to the floor. The human wore a goatee like Al’s, but not near as well groomed. With a few flicks of the knife, he carved out a piece of apple.

It was done so quickly and expertly, it made her shudder.

Holding out the piece of apple on the tip of the knife, he asked, “Want a piece? No?” He sucked it off the knife.

If he was trying to unnerve her, it was working.

“You’re a chubby little thing, ain’t you? I thought y’all were supposed to be stick thin.”

“Who are you?” She hated that her voice shook. “What do you want with me?”

“Oh, didn’t I say? Money. I want lots and lots of money.”

“I don’t have any money. And neither does my family.”

“Ah, but you
are
the money, my dear.” Liberally sprinkled with reddish highlights, his short-cropped hair peeked out from beneath a camouflaged cap with a tightly bent visor. He sliced off another piece of apple, flicked it into his mouth, and crunched down. “People will pay a lot of money for a piece like you.”

Ella’s heart raced. She’d heard of humans who hunted the mythologicals for their imaginary powers and to abuse as sex slaves. Did he know she was Troll? “I don’t understand.”

The hunter smiled. He flicked a piece of apple and it hit her in the face. When she flinched, he chuckled. “You don’t need to understand.”

He took a step closer and flicked another piece at her.

She tried to swivel out of the way but with only the points of her toes touching the floor, she couldn’t do more than pirouette. The bit of apple struck her cheek.

“ʽ
Talk to Mr. Shaun. Rocks for rent
.’” In falsetto, the hunter mimicked Ella’s words. Then, he snorted and tossed the apple away. “You think I didn’t see you come up out of the ground? I know what you are, so cut the shit.”

Her arms shook so badly. Reaching with her fingers, she grasped the chain that held her up. In her hanging position, trussed as if she were a Boronda deer ready to gut, her numb fingers couldn’t hold on. If she couldn’t find the physical strength to maintain, she’d find the inner strength to protect herself.

“Or what?” she asked. “You’ll kill me? I’m not worth much dead.”

“I don’t have to kill you. Maybe take a finger…or two.” He came toward her with the knife and reached for her lock of hair that lay over a shoulder.

Chilled by his cold smile and descriptive words, Ella braced for anything. But what happened next surprised even her.

The rickety front door burst open, dousing the interior with a shaft of golden sun. Sounds of splintered wood filled the shack as the door slammed back against the wall.

There was an almost comical look of stunned surprise on the human’s face to see a miniature Centaur in true form.

The warrior launched himself mid-air with a back leg martial arts kick and snapped out at the hunter’s hand, holding the knife.

Flying from human’s grip, the blade skittered along the floor.

The Centaur whirled and used a back hoof to kick it through the open door, then he galloped out after the knife.

“What the fuck was that?” The hunter yelled additional curses, grabbed his rifle, and ran out after him. Boot stomps grew fainter as the small Centaur lured him away. A gun fired somewhere in the distance.

The only mythic who had ever caused her pulse to race, shouldered his way past the camo netting that waved in a gentle breeze and hurried to Ella.

“How did you—?” she began.

“Not now.”Al worked methodically to slice through the knotted rope above her head. His lips pressed to a thin line, brows riding low over his eyes.

One of her arms came loose and dropped to her side. White-hot pain shot into her shoulder, leaving her gasping for breath.

“Almost there, hang on.”

“Not funny, Al.”

His devastating smile, totally out of place, dropped a warm bomb that heated her icy blood.

The sharp knife he used sawed through the corded rope like a Troll dove through dirt.

Ella’s other arm dropped. More of the same searing pain. At least now she stood on the floor without the tip-toe weaving, though her head felt stuck in a crevasse.

He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t think so.” Though not as tall as Al, the human was a large man, his body poured into the hunting style clothes he wore. Armed with the rifle, he blocked the door. “Get your hands off my property.”

Al swept Ella behind him, protecting her with his larger frame. His fingers tightened on hers and he squeezed twice before letting go. Thankfully, the tingling in her fingertips signaled the numbness was gone and feeling had returned.

“You made a couple big mistakes today, pal.” Al widened his booted stance, and Ella felt the tension radiate off him. “Number one, you’re in my forest.”

The human snorted. “
Your
forest, huh? I’ll be sure to remember that.”

Ella leaned to the side to sneak a peek and saw the human’s rifle direct Al to step away.

“I found her first,
pal
. Go chase after that mini-freak instead. He couldn’t have gotten far, after I shot him.”

Aleksander didn’t budge. He stood very still and very quiet.

In fact, it seemed to Ella the same silence enveloped the woods beyond the four peeling walls.

Both arms remained loose at his sides, his breathing deepened.

The weapon motioned again. “Move your ass, or I’ll shoot you, too.” Breathing hard from the exertion of running after the small Centaur, the tip of the hunter’s rifle dipped.

Al didn’t waste a precious second. He leapt forward, arms extended, and tackled the human around the waist. They went down in a tangle of flailing limbs and loud curses. The rifle lay pressed between them, held in place by Al’s upper body, and he delivered some bone cracking blows to the human’s face.“Ella, run!”

No time for more than a brief glance at the pair wrestling on the floor, she put her sneakers into action, and blew past the cabin’s door that hung on broken hinges. Lightweight cargo netting pushed easily out of her way, and she hit the Boronda dirt in a dead run.

Branches of trees swayed ahead, beckoning her to run faster, to hide in their woodland. The air current was gentle. Not strong enough to cause such a wild action.

Thank Bacchus!
The mythological forest came alive.

Wood Nymph guards emerged from gnarled tree trunks with swords drawn. Through the slats of the metal helms, their fierce expressions were riveted on the hunting shack she’d left behind.

Their presence meant safety and it kept Ella’s legs pumping forward in a fast-paced motion. She understood why the Nymphs couldn’t go in and help Al. The mythic decree appointed at the beginning of time, the one they all lived by, dictated that humans would never have proof of the mythological people’s existence.