T Lain - Treachery's Wake

The mephit enveloped itself in a cloud of steam and bolted for the pool. The water mephit’s laughter sent a ring of waves throughout the pond before it ducked under the surface and disappeared.

Vadania rushed to Malthooz’s side, catching him as the pain of his burns overtook him and he crumpled to his knees.

A trail of fog drifted from the surface of the water, marking the steam mephit’s retreat.

Vadania helped Malthooz to his feet.

“We need to move,” she said. “This is no place to linger.”

They started back to camp, Malthooz supporting himself on the druid’s shoulder, and the noise of the quarreling mephits was soon lost in the distance.

It was replaced by another, more ominous sound.

They shuffled through the forest as fast as Malthooz’s wounds would allow. Vadania held an arm under the half-orc’s shoulder, letting him rest some of his weight on her. The burns on his skin looked to be superficial, but the druid knew that they were probably agonizing to bear and that they were made more so by each step he took. She didn’t have time to stop and administer a healing spell.

From somewhere behind her, Vadania heard the underbrush being trampled aside. Whatever was after them was moving through the forest with abandon. She heard branches snapping and could just make out the rhythmic booming of massive footsteps. Whatever she heard, the druid realized it must be huge, considered the spacing between its thumping footsteps. She pushed Malthooz harder as she sensed the sounds gaining on them. She could almost feel the monster’s breath on the back of her neck. Vadania glanced back over her shoulder but saw no sign of any pursuer. Twigs brushed her face as they fled, leaving fine traces of blood on her cheeks. She urged Malthooz on, alternately dragging and pushing him. The half-orc’s eyes were wide with fear.

Vadania knew the general direction of the camp, but not precisely how far she’d come. Malthooz’s call had set her in motion and she’d been too intent on finding the half-orc to notice the distance she’d covered reaching the pool. Her legs burned as she drove them for all their worth.

In the distance, Vadania saw a flicker of fire. She headed straight for the light, dragging the half-orc beside her. Malthooz looked as if he was near the point of passing out. All color was drained from his cheeks and his breath came in ragged gasps. The druid shouted as they neared the circle of the camp, though she was certain the others must have heard the sounds of their crashing approach.

Mialee rushed to Vadania’s side as the fleeing pair stumbled into the clearing. She grabbed Malthooz from the druid’s grasp and tried ineffectually to support his bulk, but they both spun into the brush on the far side of the camp and collapsed in a tangle of branches.

Krusk was on his feet, moving to the edge of the firelight as the grayish mass of a troll burst through the underbrush on the heels of the druid. He extended his axe in front of himself as the creature rolled over him. One enormous arm swept across the barbarian’s side as the troll lumbered past, the knuckles of its other hand dragging along the ground. Krusk doubled over from the impact of the monster’s fist slamming into his side and he reeled into the trees.

Lidda grabbed a burning branch from the fire and shoved it into Vadania’s hand.

“Take this,” she said. “They hate it.”

The troll stopped at the sight of the flames and batted at the druid with two bulky hands as it tried to get at her. It moved its misshapen and hunched body awkwardly. Vadania knew that its mortal fear of fire would only discourage the beast for a short time. She held the makeshift torch in front of herself, waving it in the troll’s face. The sputtering tip of the branch highlighted the creature’s rubbery skin and a putrid, green mass of writhing flesh atop its head. It looked more like folds of leather cord than hair. A long bunch of the stuff dangled in front of the creature’s mouth, a cruel approximation of a nose. Stubs of teeth lined it’s jaw, worn smooth from gnawing through the bones of its prey, and yellow, syrupy saliva dripped from its chin.

The troll sprang. Vadania dodged to the side and it flew past her. The monster landed on the far side of the camp and spun around. Vadania’s shoulders heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Before she could blink, the thing was coming back at her. It covered the ground between them in seconds, moving with a sudden grace that belied its clumsy appearance and its earlier attacks. She dived aside again as the thing came at her, swinging massive, clawed fists.

Krusk used the handle of his weapon to lever himself onto his feet. A quick shake cleared his head and he charged the beast, a yell blasting from his throat. His axe slashed down, severing one of the troll’s arms below the elbow. The limb spun to the dirt, but it did not simply lie there. The detached claw scrabbled through the damp leaves of the forest floor, scooting along the ground in a wide arc. The troll swatted Krusk aside and grabbed for its severed body part. The beast held the wriggling limb up to the stump at its elbow. Green blood dripping from the end of the wounded arm bubbled as the missing part touched it. With a sickening, squishing sound, the two halves fused together.

“How can we fight such a being?” Vadania yelled as she rolled to her feet.

She cast the torch aside and drew her scimitar, stepping around to the far side of the fire, keeping the flames between herself and the troll. She wished that she hadn’t wasted her own fire spell on the mephit.

Mialee came to the druid’s side waving a torch in one hand and sending a barrage of magic missiles into the troll from the tip of the other. The wizard’s bolts sizzled through the tough skin of the troll’s side.

“We’ll never outrun the thing,” Mialee gasped.

She whipped the flaming branch around and caught the monster in its side, just below the blackened holes where her magic struck.

The troll lashed out at Mialee with its clublike hands and claws, grabbing at her neck. Mialee ducked under the troll’s swing, but saw the thick, razor-sharp nails sail over her head and shred the bark of a nearby tree.

Lidda scampered nimbly between the legs of the troll, hacking at its ankles as she passed. The size of her opponent dwarfed the halfling, making her appear no more than a child. A line of blood marked her weapon’s path across the monster’s stringy calf.

The four of them surrounded the thing, hacking with a renewed fury, trying to gain an advantage against flesh whose wounds healed before their eyes.

Vadania’s stomach churned at the thought of the abomination they faced. It was a vulgar affront to the natural world, a cruel and twisted play on the eternal cycle of death and rebirth. The creature’s metabolism was sped up to the point that harm was irrelevant. If that was the case, the druid thought, she must take the battle to the core of the process.

She concentrated her attack on the troll’s neck, slashing with the tip of her scimitar at the corded muscles connecting the troll’s head to its body. Living flesh closed around her blade, sticking it fast. Fighting against her own revulsion as much as the troll’s flailing claws, she dug her weapon into the base of the monster’s skull. She hammered the heel of her hand against the hilt of her sword, driving the blade through layers of tissue and bone, probing for the soft brain beneath.

She felt something give and realized it was the sword’s tip piercing the back of the cranium. The troll dropped to its knees. Its arms still flailed, but without conscious control, only reflex. Vadania jumped back, leaving her sword in the troll’s head.

The beast clawed at the scimitar. Its scaly grip locked around the weapon’s cross hilt and tried to pull it free of the bone, but its strength was failing fast. Krusk stepped directly in front of the beast and raised his axe. The troll’s horrid screech drowned the whistle of the axe until the blade sliced through the neck, just below Vadania’s sword. The headless body tumbled sideways as the head, its eyes still rolling and the jaws snapping, rolled to Krusk’s feet.