James Galloway - The Tower of Sorcery

"Kind of like marriage," Tiella injected.

"Something like that, yes, but not quite," Jarax agreed.

They could see the edge of the town of Marta's Ford, and Tarrin pulled up the hood a bit more to make sure of it, especially since there were children playing in the field off to one side of the road. Dolanna called the column to a stop, then turned her horse to face them. "Faalken and I are going ahead to secure passage on a ship. Daran, keep everyone together and off the road, and perhaps this would be a good time to check the horses. We should be back soon."

The two of them trotted into the town as Daran and his men walked the horses to a small field by the road across from the playing children, then they all dismounted. Daran's men started checking over their horses, and Tarrin did the same, urging his horse to give him a hoof at a time, as he checked them to make sure the shoes were in good shape and there were no stones or bruises. All of the horses had more or less grown used to Tarrin's unusual smell, and he could pass among them like anyone else. They actually paid him no mind; although his smell was obviously one of a predator, they either understood or came to realize that he didn't eat horses, and that they were safe with him among them.

A wooden ball came to a stop near Tarrin, and he froze at the sight of the two small children running across the road to fetch the toy. It was two little boys, both of them about eight years old, gangly but well fed, with the taller of the two having reddish hair and the shorter brown hair. Their features were similar; they were either brothers or cousins. Tarrin let the rear hoof of the horse down slowly as the two boys looked at him curiously. "Why do you have such big hands?" one of them asked boldly.

"And why are they all black?" the other one continued.

Tarrin put his hands inside his sleeves slowly as if it was something he was used to doing, not drawing any undue attention to them.

"They're just my hands," he said calmly. "Just like any other hands."

"My hands aren't black," one boy said, holding them out to show him.

"No, but you're not me either," Tarrin replied with a smile.

"You have funny eyes, mister," the other boy noticed.

"They're not funny to me," Tarrin told him. "I could say that your eyes are funny."

"You're one of those wi-koos, aren't you?" the taller boy asked. "Those animal-people that sail on the ships."

"No," Tarrin said, "but you can think of me as one of their cousins."

One of the boys across the road shouted for them to bring back the ball. "Well, we have to go. Goodbye, wi-koo cousin," the taller boy said.

"Bye," the other said, and they ran back across the road to rejoin their friends.

They hadn't shown any fear of him, even when it was obvious to them that he wasn't human. But then again, children were like that sometimes. He went around the horse and picked up the other rear hoof, checking it carefully for signs of injury or damage, noting that it would have to be trimmed down soon.

The horses all started fidgeting. Tarrin looked up and sniffed deeply at the air, then his hackles rose. He had no idea what that smell was, but it was not human, and it didn't smell very friendly either. Judging from the way the horses reacted to it, it could be said that it was definitely a bad smell. The wind was blowing from the north, from the trees and across the field on the other side of the road, and then to them. Whatever it was was up there in those trees past the field. Tarrin listened to his instincts for the first time, actively seeking them out and seeing how they reacted to that smell. The Cat didn't like that smell. And that was what he wanted to know.

"Jarax," Tarrin said calmly, peering over the children at the trees on the far side.

"What is it?" he asked.

"How quietly do you think you could get the attention of those kids and get them to move?" he asked in a quiet, intent voice. "There's a smell in the air that's upsetting the horses, and it doesn't smell friendly. Whatever it is, its in those trees on the far side of that field."

Jarax gave him a sober look. "I think I can get their attention," he said. "I'll get Orgal and Nyllin and we'll let them look at our swords. That always fascinates young boys."

"I'll drift up to the road over there," he said, pointing towards the town with a clawed finger. "If whatever it is sees that the kids are being watched, maybe it will give up and go away."

"What is it?"

"I don't know, but it has the smell of blood on it," Tarrin replied. "That means its a predator."

Jarax nodded, and he walked over to where Daran was talking to Orgal and a few other of his men. Daran looked at Tarrin curiously, who nodded and started to move, so he quietly issued a few orders to his men, and they all started to drift apart in seemingly random directions. Jarax, Orgal, and Nyllin, the second in command of the men, approached the boys with light voices and offers to let them hold their swords. That made the young boys instantly forget their game and rush over to where the men were standing, which was on Tarrin's side of the road. That drew the boys out from between Arren's men and whatever it was on the other side of the field.

Tarrin reached the road a few paces from the leading horse, ignoring the curious looks from Tiella and Walten. He looked back at Walten quickly, and made a drawing motion with his hands, then nudged at the far woods with a jerk of his head. Walten understood his action, then quickly pulled Tarrin's longbow out of his saddleskirt and started stringing it. Tiella pulled her leather sling out of her belt pouch and kept it wadded up in her hand, a bullet stone fitted into the sleeve, as she pulled out Walten's quiver of arrows for him. Tarrin untied the robe belt in front of him; the robe was too full, and he couldn't run very fast or very well while wearing it. He stood on the side of the road, seemingly with his head bowed, watching the edge of the woods from the edge of the hood.

There was a movement at the edge of the woods. It was just too high up. Tarrin looked up and saw a face, nearly fifteen spans off the ground, impossibly wide. Tarrin gave a gape at the face that materialized in the greenish cast of the woods, probably invisible to any eyes but his, then he saw the yellowed tusks at the edges of its mouth. It was a Troll! He'd never seen one, but he'd heard enough about them from his father. Trolls were the largest of the Goblin races, twice as big as a man and ten times meaner. They ate humans whenever they got the chance. The Cat in him welled up loudly when he recognized that face; obviously the Cat had no love for Trolls either. It wanted to kill it, and Tarrin found himself in agreement. Trolls this close to human lands were only there for one reason, and that was to catch someone to eat. But he wouldn't go running after it. The smell of it was too strange to him to discern if there was more than one, and he wasn't about to run into a snake pit. Too strange, and too horrid. Now that the smell was clearer, he decided that he'd never smelled anything so vile in his life. Not even the city-smell that hung about Torrian was that bad. It smelled like rotting flesh floating in a month-old cesspool. Tarrin made a motion to Daran, who approached him casually. "It's a Troll," Tarrin told him.

"You're sure?"

Tarrin nodded. "I saw it. The face was about fifteen spans off the ground, and it had tusks."

"That was a Troll, alright," he said grimly. "How many?"

"I'm not sure," Tarrin said quietly. "I don't know their scent well enough to figure out if there's more than one. Besides, the smell is so awful I doubt I could if I tried," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"We can't let a Troll run around loose," Daran said. "It will kill someone."

"Walten may be able to put an arrow into it," Tarrin said. "It's right at the edge of bow range."