T Lain - Return of the Damned

More green blood flooded to the ground, once again splashing Whitman. The troll staggered around and glared down at Regdar.

“What’s this?” Tasca leered at Whitman. “No criticism for Regdar?” He lunged in and his blade skipped from the beast’s heavy hide.

“Why would I?” replied the dwarf, bringing his hammer down on the troll’s foot. “This is all your fault.”

Tasca stumbled back from the troll’s backswing and landed on his seat. “Of course,” he said, lifting himself from the ground and sneering at the dwarf. “I almost forgot.”

The troll limped a half-step forward and swung at Regdar. The claws on its mighty right hand connected with the fighter’s ribcage, producing a loud, cracking sound. The blow knocked the air from Regdar’s lungs. The creature’s second claw swung down, to catch the big fighter on the thigh. Its digits wrapped around Regdar’s leg as if it were a chicken wing, then the troll leaned back and yanked. Regdar dropped his sword in the struggle to free himself from the monster’s grip. It was no use. The troll had him tight, and the big fighter’s flesh tore under the troll’s rending claws.

Regdar howled in pain. The monster’s claws made a popping sound as they pulled out of his side, then scraped across the metal of his armor. The big fighter fell to the ground, shaken and bleeding. The stretched, ripped skin between his ribs and leg felt as if it were on fire.

The troll seemed quite pleased with itself.

Braced on his hands and knees, Regdar spit on the ground. A long, thin line of red trailed through the center of the viscous saliva, and he growled.

Regdar picked up his sword and got to his feet as quickly as he could manage. “I’ve had about enough of you,” he shouted. Then he stepped forward, covering almost his full height in a single step, and aimed a powerful blow at the troll.

The sudden attack surprised the monster. Regdar’s blade bit deep into the troll’s side, forcing it to hop back on its broken leg. That brought it nearly atop Whitman, who smashed his hammer against the creature’s back. Tasca’s rapier flashed in the moonlight. It glanced off the creature’s shoulder before spearing deep into its neck.

The troll roared and shook its head. Tasca’s blade came free of his hand, its point still stuck in the side of the giant’s throat. The monster clawed at its neck and chest, gouging the flesh with its nails.

A huge flash lit the dark sky. Over Whitman’s shoulder, the second troll burst into flames. Beside the beast stood Clemf holding a broken glass bottle in his hand. Krunk crouched next to him, his hand in the air, a small, magical flame in his palm.

Regdar had no time to ask what they’d done. The troll before him, despite its horrid wounds, managed to dislodge Tasca’s rapier and toss it to the ground as if it were a toothpick. The beast flailed its arms in a frenzy, nearly catching Whitman in the chest and sending Tasca sprawling out of the way. Regdar ducked under a poorly aimed blow and stepped inside the creature’s reach.

With a well-placed jab, the big fighter rammed his sword into the soft flesh between the creature’s ribs. Dropping to one knee, Regdar lowered his shoulder and put all of his strength behind an upward thrust. His blade disappeared up to its hilt inside the creature’s chest, devoured entirely by slick, green flesh.

The troll’s arms fell to its sides, and it raised its head to the sky. A stinking, fang-lined mouth opened wide, as if it were cursing whatever god a troll might worship or despise. With a tremendous shudder, the giant leaned forward and vomited on Regdar. Dark green bile, punctuated with shiny, black gobs, rained over the fighter.

Finally spent, the monster toppled back and landed with a thud on the hard ground.

Regdar stood motionless, his hands out at his sides, breathing from his open mouth. His sword jutted at an angle from the fallen creature’s chest. Behind it, Krunk and Clemf danced around the second, flaming troll. The little dwarf threw fistfuls of fire at the burning monster while the human splashed it with lamp oil. Both bobbed and weaved, staying out of reach of the very angry creature that was thankfully blinded by the flames and the pain.

Regdar felt a hand resting on his shoulder.

“You okay, chief?” Whitman asked.

Regdar shook himself back to reality and focused on the slowly healing wound in the troll’s ribs where it was transfixed by his sword. His lip curled in disgust.

“Never better,” he spat. Stepping forward, the fighter grabbed his sword and sawed it sideways through the troll’s body. More green liquid spilled out.

Regdar ignored it.

Lifting his sword over his head, Regdar sliced it across the monster’s neck. The blade cut through rubbery flesh and found the cartilage between two vertebrae before hitting the hard-packed dirt. The troll’s head rolled free, flopped awkwardly as it rotated once, twice, then came to a stop, nose in the air. The body convulsed.

“That’s one way to do it,” commented Tasca, looking down at the dead giant.

“Indeed,” agreed Whitman.

A loud screech brought Regdar’s attention to the other troll. Its flesh bubbled and cracked in the flames. Dark smoke rose toward the sky, and a heavy stench, like burning feces, filled the air. Flames encased every inch of the beast, making it look like a fire elemental.

Squawking out its pain, the troll collapsed to its knees. It flopped onto its face, and its burning hand came to rest on the other troll’s decapitated head. Then it finally stopped moving, and the whole mass continued to burn.

Regdar sat back on his heels. “I don’t know about any of you, but I vote we find a place with flowing water and no trolls and camp for the night.”

Regdar hissed as he lifted his chestplate from his shoulders. He let it fall to the dirt with a loud crash. His tattered and torn undershirt was stained crimson in a long oval from his shoulder to his belly and all down his torso. He lifted the ruined garment gingerly from his body and tossed it into the slowly growing fire Whitman tended.

Regdar examined himself. Along his left side, three large puncture wounds weeped a clear, yellow liquid, dotted with flecks of dark red. Jagged pink stretch marks ran across his body from his ribs, past his belly button, and down onto his right hip. He poked at them with his finger and drew in air between gritted teeth. The scratches burned. The pain wasn’t as bad as when the troll made them, but they burned nonetheless.

Sitting down on a mossy stump, Regdar doffed the rest of his armor. His right thigh had a huge bruise from hip to knee, but it was otherwise intact. The fighter sighed. He was glad most of the injuries were superficial. Bruises hurt but would heal, and he could fight without too much trouble. His ribs, however, were a different story.

“Let me look at that.” Krunk pointed at the holes in Regdar’s side with his stubby fingers.

“Be my guest.” With considerable effort, Regdar lifted his arm and twisted to his right.

“Hmm.” Krunk scratched at his long, white beard.

“How is it?”

The hair on the front of the dwarf’s face moved. Regdar assumed Krunk was either smiling or cringing.

“Well, it’s not diseased,” replied the dwarf.

Tasca coughed out a laugh from the other side of the fire. “That the best you could come up with? Your words inspire confidence in us all.”

Whitman elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up, elf.”

Krunk’s moustache moved again. “I think I can patch you up good as new,” he said. Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a finely crafted cross with the symbol of the sun emblazoned on it. The cross was made from what looked in the flickering firelight like silver or platinum, and the reaching bands of the holy sun were obviously gold.