“Crag will smash you!” the Troll growled. Thick cords of muscles rippled under his shaggy fur, and his wicked teeth gnashed dangerously. “I’m gonna beat you into a paste!”
This display would normally be enough to send any traveler running, but Crag’s captor hardly seemed to notice. Thick, damp arms wrapped around the Troll’s shoulders and held the back of his head, so that he couldn’t reach behind him. His legs scrabbled for purchase on the path, but they were weak after days of being dragged through the woods. “I’ll kill you…” Crag croaked, but much of the strength had left him.
The walking statue said something else in an unfamiliar tongue; the same one it had spoken in when it wandered into Crag’s den days earlier. The Troll had originally tried to extort treasure from the strange rocks. When robbery failed, Crag tried to intimidate the sculpture into leaving. It didn’t react at all, save to repeat itself in its strange tongue with infuriating patience. When Crag finally lost his own and threw a punch, the sculpture casually let him shatter the bones of his hands against its face before it grappled him in an iron hold. The Troll had been on a forced march since, despite struggling with all of his strength.
“Athor?” a voice called out from the trees ahead. “Athor, is that you?”
Crag looked up as the sculpture spoke again. He had been hauled to a strange archway of Myrewood brambles and white dogwood. In the center of it, a strange man with spiraling tattoos stood smiling up at the Troll.
The insolence of the man brought Crag’s fury back. “Crag will grind your bones!”
The man considered him thoughtfully, stroking his long, braided beard as he did so. “Perhaps,” he said. “Let him go, Athor. Uh, rilyanethe.”
The sculpture’s hold on Crag released, and the Troll dropped to the ground. He was back on his feet immediately, though his exhausted legs buckled and confusion roiled his thoughts. “Run! I’ll kill you!” he roared. “I’m a Troll!”
“So am I,” said the man. “And I am a Sten, as are you. My name is Thane.”
“I... I’m a Troll!” Crag reiterated, in case Thane had not heard him. When the Sten didn’t react, he added, “You should run. People are scared of Trolls.”
“Don’t I know it.” Thane laughed as he turned and walked deeper into the tunnel of brambles and dogwood. “Come with me.”
“I’m a Troll!” Crag insisted, pounding the ground. “Trolls kill! Trolls murder! Trolls are horrible! Mean! Nasty!”
“So I’ve heard. But we’ve found otherwise.” Thane gestured as he walked into the clearing beyond the archway.
“I’ll—” Crag shouted, and then words failed him.
He was in a huge clearing, bounded by white trees and brimming with flowers. Fragrant blooms and earthy mosses spilled over rocks and covered every surface, even twining up the trunks of spiraling fruit trees. Verdant pools harbored flotillas of colorful lilies.
Most notably, it was full of Trolls.
Crag had learned that Trolls lived alone. Crag had been told that nobody wanted to be near a Troll, not even another Troll. Yet here Crag saw them working together, tending plants and reading books and speaking with the same strange statues that had dragged him here. Some looked at him and smiled. A few waved.
“Who’s this, Thane?” asked an Elf, bounding up beside the strange man.
“Kaitha, everyone, this is Crag,” said Thane. “Crag, welcome to our home.”
“I… I’m a Troll,” Crag said, reverting to what he knew while the rest of his world spun upside down.
“Yes, and a Sten,” said Kaitha.
“I’s mean!” Crag insisted. “I’s hurts people!”
“That’s a choice,” said Thane. “You can choose differently.”
“I’m a monster,” insisted Crag, his voice cracking.
Thane reached out and clasped his fellow Sten on the shoulder. “Maybe you were,” he said. “But you don’t have to be. You can be more. And we want to help.”
Words failed Crag, and tears threatened to overtake him, but he managed to nod as the Sten pulled him into a burly hug that took his breath away.
THE END
If You Enjoyed This Book…
Word of mouth is the biggest factor in any author’s success. A review on your favorite online bookseller, Goodreads, or any other site could make a huge difference, and would be very much appreciated.
Get Another Free eBook by J. Zachary Pike
You'll get a free digital copy of The Cabal of Thotash when you join J. Zachary Pike’s email list. You’ll also get monthly emails with exclusive content, short fiction, news about upcoming releases, cover reveals, and more. It’s quick and easy to sign up here:
www.jzacharypike.com/newsletter/
About the Author
J. Zachary Pike was once a basement-dwelling fantasy gamer, but over time he metamorphosed into a basement-dwelling fantasy writer. His animations, films, and books meld fantasy elements with offbeat humor. A New Englander by birth and by temperament, he writes strangely funny fiction on the seacoast of New Hampshire.
Learn more at www.jzacharypike.com Say “Hello”
Email: zack@jzacharypike.com
Support me on Patreon: patreon.com/jzacharypike
Glossary
Agekeepers: A sect of esoteric historians who keep and update the official records of Arth. It is the Agekeepers who define when an age begins and ends.
Al’Matra: Technically the highest-ranked Elven god as the queen of the pantheon, the All Mother and her followers are really impoverished outcasts. The scriptures say she went mad after the All Father’s betrayal.
