The rising sun was the thing that Khyrrzurrec hated the most about the surface world; it was a transition from the darkness that he had lived in for most of his life into a world that was bathed in light. For that alone, many mistook him as a dark elf. He was still half human, however, and it was from that bloodline that he received the thick, black, unbraided beard that he wore with the pride that the dwarves had taught him to have. Yet, it was his dark elf bloodline that gave him almost everything else: his red-tinged eyes, his light, ash-gray skin, and the trace of arcane magic that allowed him to perform a few minor feats of sorcery, enough that his companions had dubbed him "Witchflame."
A torrent of whipping wind carrying a dusting of ice and snow surged through him, making him aware of another thing that he had inherited from his dark elf heritage: an intolerance to the cold. Thankfully, there were two factors that kept him from being completely frozen: the thick, wolf-pelt cloak that he wore over his breastplate and leathers and the fact that his human father had come from these northern lands where Khyrrzurrec now found himself.
He half-limped across a vast expanse of snow and ice; there was only an endless field of white all around him. The cold slowed him down enough as it was, but the fact that he could feel it seeping into his wounds that had only recently scabbed over did not help. He had unceremoniously draped his shield over his back while barely holding onto his axe. The only thing that kept him moving forward was his anger, his need for vengeance.
The half-dark-elf remembered it all with the lucidity that only came with trauma. He had been traveling in the company of the dwarves who had taken him in, a small mercenary company led by Ardohr Foehammer, after a youth of slavery to the dark elves who lived deep underground. The mission had been simple: slay the ettin that had been leading the orcs in raids on the local villages.
They had accomplished that... just in time to turn around and see a troll charging into the cavern where the ettin and his orc lackeys had been residing. Khyrrzurrec, Ardohr, and the rest of the dwarves had put up as much of a resistance as they could despite being weary, battered, and wounded.
Khyrrzurrec blinked his eyes as tears of rage formed in them. He had won the day by invoking his sorcery to put an enchantment of fire, one of the few things trolls feared, onto his axe and butchering the beast. It had tried to run, but Khyrrzurrec had not allowed it to. He had enjoyed every moment of slicing through its wart-covered, dark green skin and watching the light fade from the dark, beady eyes upon its tusked, bestial face.
Yet, in the end, the dwarves had still died, and there was nothing that could change that. Even if Khyrrzurrec had been able to take their corpses with him, they had been too mutilated for any hope of resurrection magic... and that assumed that a druid who was capable of performing such a ritual could be found.
Khyrrzurrec raised his head and let out a bestial howl that was soon lost in the wailing wind; it had intensified as he continued to push himself onward. Right now, he could only keep moving and hope that there would be shelter nearby... and that it was not already occupied by a troll. Khyrrzurrec knew that he still had it in him to butcher a few orcs, but slaying another troll was another matter entirely. Most of those creatures would not be out anyway; it was too bright.
As Khyrrzurrec wrapped his cloak tighter around himself, not that it would do any real good, he could see dots of faint, flickering light, albeit distorted by the wind. He remembered how Ardohr had talked about going to Northwatch after the contract had been fulfilled; the town's tavern had good ale despite being so far away from the other villages, and that was all a dwarf really needed. Khyrrzurrec knew that he would be drinking, but not in celebration
At least, if he lived that long.
Each moment dragged on, and the only way Khyrrzurrec was able to keep any sense of time was by the crunching of the snow underneath his boots. He kept the hood of his cloak pulled over his helmet so that he could not seen the path of the sun. As far as he was concerned, it was an annoyance and nothing more.
The lights that Khyrrzurrec saw off in the distance, however, did steadily grow larger, brighter, and clearer, and that gave Khyrrzurrec a measure of hope despite the constant chills and pain that he was experiencing. His boots had been crafted from thick leather and reinforced with steel, but snow had already worked its way through, soon soaking through his socks as well. The leathers beneath his breastplate clung to his skin, which caused a stinging pain to emanate from his wounds; few things ached more consistently than a cold scab. He grunted with every step he took. Still, he pressed on.
A smile started to form on his face as he saw the outline of a gate and wall accompanying the blots of light amid the wind. Soon enough, more details of the wall could be seen; it had been erected from spiked wooden posts reinforced with piles of rock. Khyrrzurrec began to move faster. He knew that before him now was the town of Northwatch, and he would make it.
The pain, cold, and tiredness that Khyrrzurrec had been experiencing now did not seem so bad, and he felt his vigor somewhat refreshed. It was not only vengeance that kept him moving now; there was hope as well.
And so he staggered on, not stopping until he was standing before the front gates of Northwatch. Two men, obviously weathered by both the climate and violence that were endemic to the region, stood guard, each wearing a precariously-maintained and thoroughly dented steel cuirass along with patches of chainmail. Each of them held an axe and shield, though they had an assortment of other weapons, axes, swords, and maces, hanging off their belts as well. They scowled at Khyrrzurrec as he approached. Even with his cloak, armor, and beard, his dark elf heritage was plain for all to see.
"What brings you here?" one of the guards grunted. He had already half-brandished his axe.
Khyrrzurrec made no move for his own weapon. "A need for rest and recuperation," he said, "I mean neither you nor your town any harm."
"Why should I believe the words of a dark elf? How do I know that you are not trying to deceive me with the black sorcery that your kind is known for?"
"Colther, that is enough," the other guard said as he stepped forward to meet Khyrrzurrec.
Colther shot a scowl at the other guard. "What, are you a dark elf lover now? You think this one could lead you to some of their women? I know that-
"Enough." The other guard's expression became cold and unyielding, more so than the surrounding tundra
Colther met his companion's glare for a few moments before stepping back. "If this dark elf spills the blood of any of our people, it will be on your hands, Emerson."
The guard gave no response as he turned his attention back on Khyrrzurrec. "I apologize for my comrade's gruffness. It is just that Northwatch has seen more attacks from trolls now that the dragon Sebboryth is dead."
Khyrrzurrec's eyes widened. "Sebboryth is dead?"
"Yes." Emerson gave a slow, somber nod. "I heard that one of the druids was forced to slay him because he had been corrupted by the powers of Hell. It was the threat of his retaliation that kept the trolls at bay despite the fact that he rarely came this far north."
"That explains much. I encountered a troll yesterday." The tone of Khyrrzurrec's voice had gotten significantly softer.
"Oh? I would like to know if you would be willing to tell us your tale. We can never have enough news about where the trolls might be lurking."
Colther's scowl hardened, but he maintained his silence. He knew that any protests he had to offer would fall on deaf ears.
Khyrrzurrec began to speak, telling the whole story of how he had traveled with Ardohr and the other dwarves, how they had slain orcs and an ettin before being attacked by a troll. Emerson's eyes widened as he listened to Khyrrzurrec's tale of how he had butchered the troll and ensured that it would not get back up despite the dirge-like tone with which the half-dark-elf spoke.
Yet, when Khyrrzurrec finished telling the story, it was Colther who spoke first:
"Emerson, how do we know he is not lying?"
Khyrrzurrec tore his axe from his belt as his face worked itself into an expression of rage. "Look upon my axe," he snarled, "and see that it is a testament to the craftsmanship that only dwarves are known to possess."
And truly, Khyrrzurrec's weapon was a marvel to behold. It had been wrought from a single piece of steel, and its handle bore exquisite line work while its block-like head bore an enormous, elegantly-curved half-moon blade with stout dwarven runes upon it. The notches borne by the weapon's edge told the tale of countless battles. Khyrrzurrec held the weapon with an ease that caused both Colther and Emerson to step back as they realized how pathetic their weapons were by comparison.
"I detest the dark elves," Khyrrzurrec continued, "and I absolutely loathe the fact that half of my blood belongs to one. The only thing I received from them was a life of enslavement and bitterness that I will never return to. Ardohr and his men risked their lives to bring me out of the wretched tunnels that the dark elves inhabit, and I will not have their memories spat on by two humans who cannot even slay a troll in single combat."
Both Colther and Emerson had become noticeably more pallid by the time Khyrrzurrec had finished speaking. To their credit, however, they had stood their ground.
"Would you like a personal lesson in why I am called Witchflame?" Khyrrzurrec hissed as he lunged forward and assumed a bestial stance.
Colther gulped. "No, that is fine." He managed a weak smile. "Please, enter the humble town of Northwatch."
Emerson was already opening the gate.
Khyrrzurrec gave the two guards only a curt nod as he looped his axe back on his belt and walked through the gate. He held his head high as he did so despite his condition; prejudice would not keep him from his goal.
The streets of the small town were mostly deserted, not that Khyrrzurrec was surprised by the site. The wind, snow, and ice had not calmed down much, and none of the torches had been relit. Still, Khyrrzurrec took some time to wander the streets, taking stock of the stone block houses and buildings that separated them from each other. It was good that there was little wood among the structures; it had a tendency to shatter quickly during storms.
What few other people were on the streets appeared as cold and distant as the town itself had when Khyrrzurrec had just gotten sight of it on his journey. Luckily for them, he was not in the mood for company. He needed a drink.
Soon.
Within a few moments, he spotted the tavern, having picked it out due to the fact that it was the largest building in the village and had a heavily-worn wooden sign that hung out from the main structure on a stone beam. Khyrrzurrec could tell that it had been replaced multiple times.
A grin formed on his face as he staggered through the creaky wooden door that was as weathered as the sign and had probably been replaced just as many times. The scent of cheap, stale ale greeted him, which was about what he had expected. He did not need the ale to be quality; he just needed a large quantity.
The tavern's common room was almost completely full, but only a few of the patrons seemed like they wanted to be there. Even the serving girls, who were beautiful compared to the patrons, wore dour expressions as they went about the business of serving food and drink. There was a lot of drinking going on, but none of it was cheerful.
Khyrrzurrec walked in and took a seat at the bar. A few of the patrons shot gruff looks at him, but most stopped once they saw the axe he was carrying and that he looked like he knew how to wield it. The innkeeper, who was a rotund, but muscular, man wearing leathers and an apron, approached Khyrrzurrec in a way that almost resembled a soldier marching off to war.
"A tankard of ale," Khyrrzurrec said tersely as he met the man's gaze.
An austere expression was chiseled upon the innkeeper's rugged face; his blue eyes looked as hard as ice. Still, he silently obliged Khyrrzurrec's request, leaving and soon returning with a splintered tankard that was filled with pungent, stagnant ale.
"Two silvers," he said as he almost slammed the tankard down on the bar in front of Khyrrzurrec.
The half-dark-elf glanced in the tankard before looking back up at the innkeeper. "That is worth two coppers at best."
"I will drink it myself if you do not want to pay." The innkeeper shrugged. "It does not matter to me."
Khyrrzurrec grunted as he began digging around in his coin pouch. He reluctantly withdrew two silver coins and set them on the counter next to the tankard. The innkeeper wasted in time in snatching them up, and he meticulously examined them before pocketing them in his apron.
"Afraid of counterfeit coin?" Khyrrzurrec asked as he took a gulp from his tankard. It had a strong, bitter taste to it that caused him to be glad about the fact that it was watered down.
"No," the innkeeper gruffly replied, "only wondering which dwarf you killed to get it." He shrugged. "But, it does not matter to me. Coin is coin, and ale is ale."
Khyrrzurrec bit back a string of caustic profanities as he chugged down the rest of the tankard. "Another," he said tersely after lightly setting the empty tankard down on the bar.
The innkeeper waited to fetch the refill until Khyrrzurrec had set out two more silver pieces. The half-dark-elf glanced around at the rest of the patrons as he took his first swig from the newly-refilled tankard.
"Not many warriors," he observed.
"Do not be starting trouble." The innkeeper half-growled the words.
"I do not want any trouble; I just want some good ale after putting a troll out of its misery, and, unfortunately, I am finding that I am not getting it." Still, Khyrrzurrec took another gulp from his tankard.
"You are welcome to leave if you are not finding my hospitality to be up to your standards."
"It is better than the tundra, so I suppose that is a start."
At that, the innkeeper's hands clenched into fists.
Khyrrzurrec grinned. "I thought that you did not want any trouble."
"I do not, but it would see that you are trying to start some. However, I would recommend that you don't. You may have an exotic axe, but I have a whole town behind me, and I am not too bad with a morningstar."
"Threatening customers now?"
"No threats, just statements of fact."
"Then perhaps you can answer my next question with such a statement: where are the trolls coming from?"
"What business of yours is it?"
"I killed a troll, and I am looking for more." Khyrrzurrec took a punctual swig from his tankard as he leaned back in his stool, a creaky wooden construction that could barely be called such but still somehow supported his armored bulk.
"You are insane if you are thinking about going troll hunting."
"I have been told that insanity runs in my dark elf half."
The innkeeper gave no response. After a few moments of silence had passed, Khyrrzurrec broke it:
"Where are the trolls coming from?"
"All over," the innkeeper replied quickly and tersely. "We have been seeing more and more of them these past few weeks."
"Since Sebboryth died?"
An expression of surprise blasted across the innkeeper's face. "How did you find out about that?"
"Colther and Emerson told me."
"I see. Damn fools."
"So, the troll attacks have increased since Sebboryth died?"
"Yes."
"Has anyone been sent to investigate them?"
The innkeeper gave a hollow laugh. "Why do you think Colther and Emerson were the only ones left?"
Khyrrzurrec smiled back. "I was giving you the benefit of the doubt about how many fighters are in this place." He took another gulp. "But, I am not worried about that. My companion Ardohr had spoken quite highly about the quality of your ale." He threw a brief glance at his half-empty tankard before turning his gaze back upon the innkeeper. "So far, I have found his assessment to be incorrect."
"Back to this again? I have already told you that you are more than welcome to leave if you find my hospitality to be lacking."
Khyrrzurrec flashed a sly grin. "I am a simple man. I just want to slay trolls and then drink fine dwarven ale afterwards, and it looks like you are all out of ale."
"There are neither trolls nor dwarven ale here."
"It certainly seems that way. I am thankful that you have, at least so far, kept the trolls out, but, again, I find myself unsatisfied by the lack of ale. Who is the leader of this town?"
"You are looking at him. Our mayor died trying to hunt the troll king."
"That is most unfortunate. What if I were to slay the troll king for you?"
The innkeeper immediately began to laugh loudly enough that it was heard through the whole of the common room of the tavern. Nearly all of the patrons turned to look at Khyrrzurrec and the innkeeper as uncertainty flooded into the air.
"You think that you can slay Rendspine the Troll King?" the innkeeper laughed, "You are obviously not from around here."
"You obviously do not know who I am," Khyrrzurrec replied simply.
"I know that you are dark elf scum."
"Give me the chance to prove myself. If nothing else, if I die, then Northwatch will have lost nothing because it was not one of its lives that was spent."
At that, the innkeeper paused; all of the patrons waited expectantly for his answer. Khyrrzurrec, however, simply nursed his tankard of ale.
"Fine," the innkeeper growled, "I may believe that nothing good can come of your presence here, but I cannot deny your logic. My daughter, Myranda, set off to hunt Rendspine a fortnight ago. Bring her back along with one of the troll king's heads and you shall have my respect, dark elf."
Khyrrzurrec grinned. "And what of your fine dwarven ale?"
"That too."
Khyrrzurrec nodded. "Then it is settled. Rendspine shall be slain before the sun sets tomorrow."
The innkeeper gave a nod of acknowledgement, and that was the only reaction Khyrrzurrec received. However, he had not been expecting applause either. Ardohr was the real reason he was doing this, and the only glory he would receive would be from himself.
"Do you have anything to eat?" Khyrrzurrec, who now spoke in a calmer tone, asked the innkeeper.
"Five silver," he replied gruffly before turning around and walked through the door behind the bar that led into the kitchen.
Khyrrzurrec groaned as he dug the coins out of his pouch. He didn't have much money since he had never had a chance to collect payment for slaying the ettin and its orcs, but he needed to eat, and he hoped that he would be able to collect what was due once Rendspine was dead.
It did not take long for the innkeeper to return with a plate of food, and he set it down in front of Khyrrzurrec as he pocketed the coins that the half-dark-elf had set out.
Khyrrzurrec glared down at the plate and found himself disappointed by it. There were a few pitifully-small slices of roasted beef with only a dollop of gravy between them, a small boiled potato, and a small handful of roasted turnip slices, all of it lukewarm. Just like the ale, the meal was worth two coppers at best; five silvers would have bought a feast at any of the other taverns Khyrrzurrec had been to, and he had been to quite a few. Still, he did not complain. The innkeeper would only tell him that he was welcome to leave, which was something he would not do since his stomach was still growling. He picked up the two-tined fork wrought from crude steel that had been set on the plate and began to eat. Despite its poor quality, the meager meal seemed like a feast; hunger made food taste better than any sauce or seasoning ever could.
It did not take long for Khyrrzurrec to devour the meal, and, though he was still hungry afterward, he did not order more. There was not enough coin in his pouch for another meal, as well as the fact that the innkeeper was already deep in the work of serving the other patrons.
Khyrrzurrec nursed his ale throughout the night and watched the tavern. The later it got, the more patrons left and the warmer the fire seemed. Eventually, he was the last patron left.
"Planning on sleeping here tonight?" the innkeeper asked.
"Where else would I go?" Khyrrzurrec replied.
The innkeeper gave an apathetic shrug. "Rooms are ten silver."
"I see."
Silence passed between Khyrrzurrec and the innkeeper before he spoke again: "I will let you have a blanket and a place by the fire for free."
"Your hospitality is appreciated."
The innkeeper had already turned around and gone into the kitchen. He came out with a rough, homespun brown blanket in his arms.
"There you go," he said as he set it down on the bar in front of Khyrrzurrec.
The half-dark-elf nodded. "Thank you."
The innkeeper said nothing.
Khyrrzurrec walked over to the fire place with the blanket and laid it down, though he did not take off his armor, or anything else, until he was the last one in the common room. He fell asleep quickly once he had fully settled in, however, as he allowed himself to finally collapse from the weight of the burdens he carried. No dreams came, and he awoke to the sounds and smells of cooking coming from the kitchen, mostly potatoes and eggs, but there was bacon and bread as well.
The half-dark-elf quickly sat up as he blinked the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. Though he did not feel as well-rested as he would have preferred, he still felt far better than he had yesterday. He put his armor, shield, and axe back on before neatly rolling up the blanket and setting it on the bar.
The innkeeper soon emerged from the kitchen with a plate of eggs, bacon, and potatoes, all fried and covered in sharp cheddar, and set it down in front of Khyrrzurrec. A sizable piece of fresh, crusty bread soon followed. Khyrrzurrec said nothing as he started digging into his coin pouch; at least this meal would be worth five silvers.
"There is no need for that," the innkeeper said as he took the blanket in his arms, briefly glancing at how it had been precisely it had been rolled up. "This meal is free. It might be your last."
"Thank you," Khyrrzurrec replied.
The innkeeper merely nodded before walking back into the kitchen, though he soon returned with a tankard that Khyrrzurrec could tell from the smell alone was full of good dwarven ale.
"I have not slain Rendspine yet," Khyrrzurrec said as the tankard was set down next to his plate.
"You need this ale more than I do," the innkeeper replied in a simple, matter-of-fact tone.
Khyrrzurrec offered a small smile before he began eating. Unlike the last meal, the food in front of him now was actually hot; there was still steam coming off it, and its vibrance told him that it had been freshly cooked. The portions were also far larger. However, Khyrrzurrec devoured everything, both food and drink, quickly, though his stomach let out a growl afterwards.
"More?" the innkeeper asked tersely as he threw a glance at Khyrrzurrec.
"If you can spare it," the half-dark-elf replied.
The innkeeper nodded. He went back into the kitchen and emerged with another plate of eggs, potatoes, and bacon, again all covered in cheddar, and a sizable chunk of bread. After setting the plate down, the innkeeper wordlessly took Khyrrzurrec's empty tankard and refilled it.
"Thank you," Khyrrzurrec said, his voice laced with uncertainty.
The innkeeper gave only a nod.
Khyrrzurrec finished the second plate and tankard, albeit not as quickly as the first, and he let out a loud belch afterward.
"That was delicious," Khyrrzurrec said.
"I am glad that you enjoyed it," the innkeeper replied as he cleaned out a tankard.
"Which direction did Myranda go?"
"North. Rumors hold that there is a frozen swamp a good distance away in that direction, and it is said that that is where Rendspine is."
"Then that is where I shall go. Thank you again for everything."
The innkeeper shrugged. "You are not so bad even if you are half dark elf."
Khyrrzurrec smiled as he got up from his stool and left the tavern. Though he did not feel completely recovered, he was still in a far better state than he had in on arrival: his clothes were dry, he had been able to sleep, and he had been fed.
The cold outside greeted him viciously but the warmth of his wolf-pelt cloak protected him from the worst of it. Everything around him was dark; it was early enough in the morning that the sun had not yet began to rise. But, Khyrrzurrec preferred it that way. One thing that he had inherited from his dark elf mother was a love of the darkness. He could still see all of Northwatch's buildings perfectly.
There was no one on the streets, which was another thing that Khyrrzurrec was glad for. Most people believed that a dark elf skulking in the shadows could only lead to no good, and, while Khyrrzurrec knew that that was not the case with him, the stereotype existed for a reason. He kept a quick pace as he made his way through the streets, frequently looking over his shoulder all the while. Dark elves learned from an early age to always watch their backs. After all, if they did not, no one else would.
It did not take very long for Khyrrzurrec to reach the gate, and both Colther and Emerson were standing guard again.
"Who goes there?" Emerson asked. He could only see the vague, featureless outline of Khyrrzurrec approaching.
"It is only me," the half-dark-elf replied as he continued walking forward, making sure to keep his hand off his axe.
"Leaving already?"
Khyrrzurrec flashed a grin. "There is no need to worry. When next I return, it will be with one of Rendspine's heads."
Neither Colther nor Emerson said anything as they opened the gates to let Khyrrzurrec out, and they began to close them as soon as he had fully passed through.
And so Khyrrzurrec found himself right back where he had started: alone in a frozen wasteland with only a vague idea of where he was going. This time, however, there was more than the promise of a reward once it was all over.
He hoped.
Khyrrzurrec normally would have started his search by looking to see if there were any relatively fresh tracks, but the snowfall was fresh enough that any tracks, even ones left by trolls, would have been hidden. Therefore, he simply began walking forward to the north just like the innkeeper had said, though he did not move as quickly as he knew he could. It would be best to conserve his energy just in case he encountered orcs... or trolls.
As he continued on, he heard only the sound of snow crunching beneath his own boots and saw only the vast tundra before him. There was a small wind, but not nearly enough for it to be considered howling.
He had no way of telling how much time had passed since he had left Northwatch. However, the sun had eventually begun to rise, and Khyrrzurrec found himself nearly blinded by the first rays peaking over the horizon, which prompted him to pull the hood of his cloak over his eyes. He also kept his gaze straight ahead. Looking up would cause him to see the full light of the sun, and looking down would cause him to see the light that was being reflected off the snow. He could not wait to be back underground.
Off in the distance, he saw a dark speck amid the blanket of white formed by the snow. He picked up his pace and got to it quickly enough, soon seeing that it was a scrap of leather. It looked like it had come off a set of armor; it had the marks of having been boiled and tooled. A small smile formed on Khyrrzurrec's face. The scrap of leather was not as good as a trail to follow, but it was still far better than nothing at all. He plucked it out of the snow before continuing on.
The sun continued its ascent, allowing Khyrrzurrec to see more of the landscape before him. There were small mounds of snow scattered about, and a few of them had wooden handles jutting out. Khyrrzurrec had no doubt that they were spears. As he stopped at the first mound, he saw streaks and spots of blood in the snow around the spears.
"Orcs," he whispered to himself.
The half-dark-elf whipped around and drew his axe as he heard a grunt come from behind. A patch of snow that was now in front of him shifted, and he drew his shield as he watched a savage, dark-skinned, boar-faced humanoid clad in leathers and pelts rise up with a crude, yet jagged axe in his meaty hands. Khyrrzurrec grinned; he had been right.
Letting out a savage roar, the orc charged Khyrrzurrec, swinging his axe at the half-dark-elf as soon as he could. Khyrrzurrec blocked with his shield and swung his axe without missing a beat despite how thoroughly the force of the orc's blow had flowed through him. The orc let out a snarl as he beat back Khyrrzurrec's axe with his own.
"You should have simply let me go," the half-dark-elf snarled in fluent orcish. He had learned the language from both the orc slaves that the dark elves had owned and the dwarves that he had adventured with.
The orc came back with a guttural laugh. "Elf bloods are weak." He lunged forward and swung at Khyrrzurrec again.
Khyrrzurrec beat back the axe with his shield before quickly following up with a chop from his own axe. Its head tore into the orc's forearm and left a jagged gash that immediately began to weep blood. The orc let out a snarl of pain as he shuffled back a few steps and assumed a defensive stance.
"Not so weak for an elf blood after all, am I?" Khyrrzurrec snarled, once again speaking fluent orcish.
The orc gave a snaggletoothed grin. "You might even make a worthy sacrifice to Rendspine, and the human girl could use some company anyway."
"Listen carefully, orc, for I shall only make this offer once: take me to Rendspine and I shall spare your life. You have already seen how I fight."
The orc burst into a fit of guttural laughter. "You think that I will surrender just because you have managed to wound me? Bah! You may know our language, but you do not know our culture. We orcs fight only to the death; quarter shall neither be given nor received!"
Khyrrzurrec grinned. "I know orc culture. In fact, I find many of your ideals to be honorable, and so I wanted to give you a way to keep your life. However, since you have refused my offer, I am forced to kill you."
"I will enjoy the feeling of ripping your skull free from your body."
The orc lunged forward and hacked at Khyrrzurrec with his axe. Khyrrzurrec deftly parried before bashing his foe with his shield, sending the orc staggering back. Letting out a snarl, Khyrrzurrec followed up his bash with a quick chop from his axe. The orc sidestepped before unleashing a mighty cleave that struck Khyrrzurrec's leg. He growled as he felt the axe's blade cut through both his armor and flesh. Yet, he quickly retaliated with a hack from his axe that tore into his foe's shoulder and left an even more grievous wound.
"I have not had a fight this good since my first raid," the orc said as he recovered his footing and assumed a defensive stance.
"Then I would recommend that you enjoy it," Khyrrzurrec replied, "It will be your last."
He did not stop to assess the severity of his wound. In that moment, he had only one objective: slaying the orc. He swung his axe at his foe once more, this time aiming for a swift decapitation. The orc parried, and his arm shook as his weapon clashed with Khyrrzurrec's. He wasted no time in withdrawing his weapon and swinging again. This time, his blow had more force to it; the orc snarled as his weapon was thrown from his grasp.
"It ends," Khyrrzurrec snarled as he swung one last time.
The orc fumbled to pick his weapon up, but Khyrrzurrec's axe was quicker; it tore into the orc's neck and sent his head flying from his shoulders. Khyrrzurrec allowed himself a short, but savage, grin. Despite the fact that he had not learned anything from the orc besides the fact that he had been a servant of Rendspine, that alone was enough. It told Khyrrzurrec that he was at least going in the right direction. That was half the battle.
Khyrrzurrec glanced down at the wound on his leg. It was not as bad as he had thought, but it was still a gruesome, jagged wound that was bleeding more liberally than he would have preferred. He quickly cut off a few long strips from the furs that the orc had been wearing and bound the wound tight such that no more blood seeped through the coverings, grunting all the while. Yet, he did force the wound closed. It was not his best first aid job, but it would have to do until he got back to Northwatch.
Wasting no time, Khyrrzurrec continued onward. His leg still ached, but he ignored the pain, instead focusing on each step he was taking, on how each one brought him closer to Rendspine. He had not bothered to put away his axe or shield either; there was no doubt that they would be needed again.
The next few hours passed in silence. Khyrrzurrec saw little except the vast expanse of the tundra before him, though he was starting to see the vague outlines of tree in off in the distance.
A forest? In this place?
No. Khyrrzurrec knew that the trees were far more likely to hold a swamp; such an environment was where trolls thrived, and if there was a whole tribe of them attacking Northwatch with frightening regularity...
Once Khyrrzurrec got closer, he found that he had been right. The trees ahead were thin and skeletal, and the smell of death roiled off them. He could see pools of stagnant water as he approached as well. A thin layer of ice hung over everything, and there were no sounds to be heard, only silence.
Khyrrzurrec slowed his pace as he readied his axe and shield. He came to a complete stop as he saw cracks in the ice start to form in one of the ponds next to him.
Suddenly, a hail of polluted water and ice fragments came over him as he heard the roar of a troll. Even with his obscured vision, Khyrrzurrec could clearly see his new foe emerging from the pond and gripping a warhammer that was longer than he was tall by at least half again. The hammer's stone head was crumbling, but its remaining stoutness left no doubts about its capacity for brutality. Letting out a roar, the troll lunged forward and brought his weapon down upon Khyrrzurrec. He quickly ducked out of the way as he drew upon his small well of innate magic and caused the head of his axe to start glowing as though it had been freshly pulled from the forge.
"Die," the half-dark-elf snarled as he hacked at the troll.
A miasma of steam hissed out from the troll's thigh as Khyrrzurrec's axe bit into it. Letting out a roar, the troll raised his hammer and brought it down on his foe once more. Khyrrzurrec gave a roar of his own as he blocked with his shield. Stone slammed into steel, and more of the hammer's head crumbled, sending chips of it flying everywhere. Khyrrzurrec felt the force of the blow reverberate through his arm; he was glad that he had not felt anything shatter. Lunging forward, he hacked at the troll with his axe. The troll lunged back toward the pond before crouching down in it. Khyrrzurrec let out a growl of frustration as his axe cleaved through the air over the troll's head.
"No fire!" the troll snarled before coming forward again and swinging his hammer at Khyrrzurrec.
The half-dark-elf jaggedly dodged out of the way as he hacked at the troll with his axe. Its head bit deeply into the troll's thigh once more, causing him to let out a roar of pain as streams of steam emanated up from the wound. Khyrrzurrec tore his axe free as the troll swung his hammer, slamming its head into the half-dark-elf's side and throwing him back into a patch of sharp, interwoven branches. He fought to regain his footing while the troll wasted no time in closing the distance between himself and his foe; Khyrrzurrec threw his shield up just in time to meet the troll's next hammer blow. He gritted his teeth as the weapon's head slammed into his shield, but he stood his ground and quickly retaliated with a swing of his axe that bit deeply into the troll's chest. Taking one hand off his hammer, the troll grabbed onto Khyrrzurrec's axe and tore it out of his chest.
"No fire," the troll snarled as he jerked Khyrrzurrec forward before slamming him into a tree, holding the handle of his fiery axe all the while.
"Yes, fire," Khyrrzurrec snarled back.
He tore his axe free from the troll's grasp and quickly hacked at his hand. The axe tore into the troll's flesh as he pulled his hand away, leaving a wound that, while not as bad as the others, still began to bleed quickly. The troll let out a snarl of pain as he kicked at Khyrrzurrec. He dodged out of the way before raising his shield to block the next hammer swing, standing firm as it hit. Quickly pulling his weapon back, the troll prepared to swing again.
Khyrrzurrec lunged forward and cleaved into the troll's exposed belly with his axe. The troll let out a roar of pain as his guts spilled out, ushered forth on a tide of blood. Khyrrzurrec quickly followed up with a shield bash that sent the troll staggering back toward the pond. However, he knew that he could not afford to send the troll back any further; doing so would risk him falling into the pond and extinguishing his burning wounds, thus allowing him to start regenerating. Khyrrzurrec, therefore, decided to swing his axe again.
It bit deep into the troll's chest and left a deep wound that had parted skin, flesh, and bone. Khyrrzurrec swung one last time. Again, it tore through the troll's chest, but, this time, he let out a groan before collapsing. Khyrrzurrec was all but certain that he had slain the troll, but that did not stop him from decapitating the corpse.
Just in case.
Turning away from the fallen troll, Khyrrzurrec continued deeper into the swamp. It did not take long for him to see the outline of a crude wall beyond the trees, and so he slowed his pace to a cautious advance. The wall had been crafted from sharpened logs, and spears jutted up from its base. Khyrrzurrec quickly spotted two trolls that were standing guard at what looked like the entrance to the encampment beyond.
"Damn it," the half-dark-elf whispered under his breath. Defeating one troll had been difficult enough, but defeating two... Even for a warrior as seasoned as he was, it was a task that was all but impossible.
But what if he did not have to? Trolls were strong, but they were not known for being smart. Khyrrzurrec threw a glance down at his axe; it was still glowing from the enchantment that he had put on it. It was a minor one, but he still had enough of his sorcerous power left that it would not be too much effort to intensify it. So he did.
He let out a roar as he charged forth from the trees toward the trolls with his axe pointed forward. A gout of flames shot out from the weapon as he closed the distance One of the trolls screamed as the flames washed over him completely while the other cowered in fear.
Khyrrzurrec turned on the cowering troll and brandished his axe, making sure that its flaming head was egregiously prominent. "Take me to Rendspine," he snarled.
"You... no... wanna... go..." The troll's voice shook heavily as he spoke; palpable fear hung in his words. "Rendspine kill you..."
Khyrrzurrec turned on the burning troll and swiftly decapitated him. He had had no time to muster a defense; instead, he had been slamming his hands all over his body in an attempt to put the flames out, but it seemed that as soon as he had put one out, two more popped up. As a result, he barely noticed when Khyrrzurrec's axe cleaved off his head.
The half-dark-elf turned back on the cowering troll with a savage grin on his face. He could not deny that it was a good sight; it was the stuff of legends that were whispered around taverns in hushed tones, and his only regret was that Ardohr was not here to see him now. Still, coming back with the head of Rendspine would be more than enough to add to his legend.
"Take me to Rendspine," Khyrrzurrec snarled at the captive troll. "I might let you live if you do."
The troll slowly nodded. "F... f... follow..."
Khyrrzurrec gave a stern nod, and the troll led him through the crude wood wall. Beyond it lay an equally crude encampment of huts made from ice and rocks that were barely large enough to house the trolls that were there. They all turned to look at Khyrrzurrec and his prisoner, but none of them moved to attack. Khyrrzurrec had made sure that his flaming axe was quite visible.
A mountain loomed over the encampment, a short, yet jagged, one that bore a cap of snow like a crown. Centuries of howling winds had given it plenty of cracks and ridges. At the base of the mountain, however, lurked a cave that opened up like a mouth albeit dark and toothless. The troll that led Khyrrzurrec pointed at the cave, though he was visibly shaking.
"There," he said, stuttering his way through the word. "Now... live?" Palpable desperation had pooled in his eyes.
Khyrrzurrec looked up at the troll and around at the other trolls, who had already reached for their weapons: crude axes, mauls, and spears, but all of them possessed enough bulk that they would still tear through flesh despite the shoddy craftsmanship.
"Live," Khyrrzurrec grunted as he pointed his flaming axe toward the other trolls.
The half-dark-elf's guide was quick to rejoin his kin, and Khyrrzurrec soon heard the troll telling the others about how he planned to kill Rendspine, which was met with bouts of savage laughter. They did not think he could do it.
He would prove them wrong.
Turning away from the trolls, Khyrrzurrec stoically marched toward the cavern ahead with his axe and shield brandished. His battle-rage lurked just beneath the surface; it took all of his will to contain it. Yet, the soothing darkness within the cavern helped somewhat. Khyrrzurrec did not miss his days of being enslaved, but he had never learned to like the sun either.
He advanced further into the cavern, and the smell of rotting flesh and old blood soon assault his sense of smell. Knowing what he did about trolls, the smells were probably coming from the corpses of previous challengers who had subsequently been turned into prey. He did not think about the fact that he could be next. The sounds of guttural snarling and flesh tearing from further ahead in the cavern only intensified those thoughts. Still, Khyrrzurrec continued on, albeit at a more cautious pace.
The cavern soon opened up into a large chamber and Khyrrzurrec saw the outline of a gargantuan reptilian creature that looked like a lizard... with wings.
"A dragon," the half-dark-elf growled under his breath.
No one had told him about that, not Colther, not Emerson, and certainly not the innkeeper. His first assumption was that it was some elaborate plot to kill him, but he knew that was not the case. He always assumed such, however, because it had happened before, more times than he cared to think about. Yet, the lack of warriors in Northwatch meant that he was truly their last, best hope.
And, truth be told, he was not sure how to feel about that.
Khyrrzurrec clung to the cavern wall as he continued his advance and tried to be as quiet as one possibly could while bearing both armor and weapons. Within a few moments, he caught a glimpse of another form behind the dragon: a hulking troll that was significantly larger than the others in the encampment and had nine heads. Khyrrzurrec had no doubt that he now looked upon Rendspine, and the troll king's meaty fist gripped a mighty hammer that was twice as tall as Khyrrzurrec. Unlike the hammers wielded by some of the other trolls, the one that Rendspine held had been crafted entirely out of a purple-tinged steel, and an ornate lightning motif cascaded across the whole of it. Purple lightning sporadically flashed around the weapon's head, allowing Khyrrzurrec to get a better view of the foes that were before him.
What he saw did not assuage him.
Black scales, no doubt hardened by age, covered the whole of the dragon with the exception of its talons, which jutted out from its feet and wings, and a pair of straight horns that jutted out from its forehead, as well as its teeth, each of which was at least the size of a dagger. Khyrrzurrec had also heard stories of such dragons spitting stream after stream of seething, sizzling acid that could utterly melt anything unfortunate enough to be caught in its wake.
The dragon feasted on a pile of human corpses; some of them wore armor not unlike that of Colther and Emerson, simple guards who were probably raising families and only wanted a safe environment in which to do so. Khyrrzurrec knew that such a life was not for him, but he felt a measure of empathy none the less. They were still good people even if they had misjudged him.
Rendspine himself looked on with five of his heads, each one intently scanning for any sign of intruders, while his free hand shoveled handful after handful of dripping flesh into the other four. Blood sprayed from the mouths each time they chewed.
Yet, it was neither the troll king nor the dragon that alarmed Khyrrzurrec the most: it was the hammer.
The cavern, while large, was still too small for the dragon to make full use of its mobility; Khyrrzurrec doubted it would even be able to manage more than a hover. Rendspine, despite having nine heads, was probably no more intelligent than the average troll, especially since the four heads that feasted on meat were arguing with each other in between bites. From what Khyrrzurrec could tell, he maintained his rule only by brute force... and his hammer.
With a small measure of the sorcery within him, Khyrrzurrec could see the destructive magics that radiated off the weapon even when the lightning was not present. It could turn a dumb brute like a troll into an engine of destruction. Khyrrzurrec was sure that the hammer wielded Rendspine more than he wielded it.
The half-dark-elf continued peering into the cavern where Rendspine and the dragon went about their macabre flesh-feast, looking for any concealed avenues that could be used as a point of attack. He found none, and so he was left with only one option. Throwing a glance down at his axe, he saw that the weapon still glowed faintly like the last embers of a mostly-dead fire, but it was enough. He gave it a little more of his power. In an instant, the axe's head became wreathed in flames once more.
The flames rose up, and so did Khyrrzurrec, who gave a bellowing roar as he did so. He fell fully into his battle rage as he barreled toward his foes; it was either do or die. The half-dark-elf soon had ten pairs of eyes glaring at him.
"Fresh meat!" one of Rendspine's heads roared with glee.
"Come, Dagharontrix," another one of the heads added, "let us continue our feast!"
"Yes," the dragon snarled as he reared up so that he could tower over Khyrrzurrec.
"However, I doubt that there will be much left of this pathetic intruder once I am done with him." He flashed a toothy grin. "We shall see."
"Bring your worst, fell dragon!" Khyrrzurrec roared back. "I will butcher you and Rendspine with ease, and my axe shall gain many new notches upon its blade!"
Dagharontrix inhaled deeply before unleashing a line of acid on Khyrrzurrec at nearly point-blank range. He threw his shield in front of himself as he ducked to the ground, and he kept his axe clutched close to his chest.
Thankfully, Khyrrzurrec managed to drop low enough that he evaded most of the acid. A few drops splattered on his neck, shoulders, and back, and they immediately caused his flesh to start sizzling. It was definitely a unique pain, having his skin being burned and eaten away at the same time, but it was minor enough that he paid it little mind.
"Is that all you have?" Khyrrzurrec snarled, "Pathetic!"
Dagharontrix lunged forward and snapped at Khyrrzurrec with his jaws. The half-dark-elf met the dragon head on, letting out another snarl as he hacked at his foe with his flaming axe. It bit into Dagharontrix's snout before he could bite into Khyrrzurrec. The dragon let out a hiss of pain as Khyrrzurrec tore his axe free. Dagharontrix's wound quickly began to weep blood.
The dragon swiped at Khyrrzurrec with his claws, one after the other. Khyrrzurrec ducked under one as he blocked the other with his shield. The force of the blow reverberated through his body, but nothing had been broken. Still, Dagharontrix wasted no time in pressing his assault, this time buffeting Khyrrzurrec with his wings before following up with a sweeping cleave of a trail that was crowned by a single, greatsword-sized spine that dripped venom.
Khyrrzurrec tried to dart back, but Dagharontrix's wings were quicker; they slammed into the half-dark-elf and threw him back toward the entrance of the cavern as Dagharontrix's tail came forward to inject him with its venom. Letting out a terse grunt, Khyrrzurrec quickly regained his footing, lunged forward, and hacked at Dagharontrix's tail, aiming from the base of the spine. The flaming axe struck unerringly; Dagharontrix let out a roar of pain as his stinger was amputated and crimson blood began to pour out of the wound.
"Damn mortal," the dragon snarled, "You shall pay for that!"
Suddenly, all nine of Rendspine's heads let out discordant roars as the troll king came barreling toward Khyrrzurrec with his hammer held high, its head alight with bright purple lightning. Khyrrzurrec dropped into a defensive stance and kept a conservative posture; his shield remained close to his chest and his axe was not far behind. Still, he remained standing on the balls of his feet.
Rendspine closed the distance between himself and Khyrrzurrec with frightening speed, and it was not long before the troll king's hammer was coming down upon the half-dark-elf. He darted out of the way, only narrowly avoiding the blow, as he pointed his axe at Rendspine.
"A curse upon you!" Khyrrzurrec cried as he channeled his sorcery through his weapon.
In an instant, Rendspine's form became outlined in bright pink flames that danced around him.
One of the troll king's heads let out a mocking laugh. "Petty elf-flames! They do not even burn!"
Khyrrzurrec gave no response; none was needed.
Before Rendspine could swing again, Dagharontrix surged forward and attempted to bite Khyrrzurrec.
"Did you not learn after the first time?" he laughed as he beat back the dragon's face with his shield.
He quickly followed up with his axe, leaving another smoldering, bloody wound upon the dragon's snout that caused him to let out a hiss of pain. Dagharontrix quickly pulled his head back far enough that it was out of Khyrrzurrec's reach before deeply inhaling.
All nine of Rendspine's heads grinned; the troll king saw his opening and took it. In an instant, he had lunged forward and brought his hammer down upon Khyrrzurrec.
"You fool," Dagharontrix snarled; his neck already bulged with the acid that had been pooled up in it, ready to be unleashed as a breath weapon.
Khyrrzurrec flashed a grin; if the dice rolled in his favor, the fight could end. Soon. He deftly ducked out of the way of Rendspine's hammer before pointing his axe up at Dagharontrix. Drawing on the last of his sorcerous power, Khyrrzurrec caused a fiery bolt to burst out of his axe and streak toward the place where Dagharontrix's neck and head met.
Right where the acid was.
Dagharontrix, trapped between Rendspine and the back wall of the cavern, had no room to dodge, and so Khyrrzurrec's bolt struck him unerringly. In an instant, a cloud of sizzling, acid-filled steam burst into the air as Dagharontrix's neck exploded open; the dragon had only a short moment to let out a gurgled death roar as he collapsed. Khyrrzurrec grinned. He had found one way to kill a dragon, and the head was still mostly intact. One of Dagharontrix's horns would make a fine trophy.
Yet, Khyrrzurrec's attention was soon torn away from the dragon corpse before him as Rendspine roared before unleashing a cleaving swing of his hammer upon the half-dark-elf.
"No need dragon!" one of the troll king's heads roared, "Kill you with hammer instead!"
Khyrrzurrec leaped forward, out of the hammer's path, before hacking at Rendspine with his axe. It bit into the troll king's thick, warty skin but could not completely break through; Khyrrzurrec saw only a small trickle of blood as he tore his weapon free. He slammed his shield into Rendspine's chest and sent the troll king staggering back right as he was about to swing his hammer again.
"No need to hit you!" Rendspine snarled, "Zap you instead!"
With a forceful grunt from all nine heads, the troll king hefted his hammer high before slamming it into the ground. Its head struck like a meteor, and a lightning bolt leaped off it and streaked toward Khyrrzurrec. It cascaded up over him before coming down and assaulting his whole body; he could do nothing but grit his teeth and hold his ground as a wave of searing pain coursed through him.
One of Rendspine's heads gave a savage grin. "Tough elf-flesh. Good that there are nine of us."
"And I will cut off all of them!" Khyrrzurrec snarled before charging forward.
Rendspine met him head on with a swing of his hammer. Khyrrzurrec blocked the blow with his shield. Ordinarily, it might have shattered his arm, but he still had full control of it, and he barely felt the force of the blow. He barely felt anything right now.
Letting out a roar of rage, Khyrrzurrec lunged forward and unleashed a retaliatory strike with his axe. His weapon tore into the troll king's chest but barely penetrated deeper than the last strike had. Still, Khyrrzurrec tore his weapon free, wasting no time in striking again.
He struck Rendspine's chest once more, and he grinned as his axe bit deep enough into the troll king's flesh that one of his heads let out a guttural, pain-filled snarl.
"Back!" Rendspine called as he slammed his elbow into Khyrrzurrec's chest, sending him staggering back. "Now die!" The troll king gripped his hammer in both hands and widely swung it at Khyrrzurrec.
He barely regained his footing in time, managing to dodge out of the hammer's path before lunging forward and hacking at Rendspine again and leaving another gash upon his chest. A quick glance at his own weapon told Khyrrzurrec that what was left of the fiery enchantment was fading; he would have to finish the fight.
Soon.
Khyrrzurrec let out a booming roar as he gathered what remained of his vigor before continuing his assault. Again and again, the half-dark-elf swung his axe, each strike biting deeper and drawing more blood than the last. Rendspine swung his hammer in an attempt to deter Khyrrzurrec, but he easily evaded it before lunging forward to strike the troll king once more. The still-smoldering head of Khyrrzurrec's axe bit deeper into Rendspine's chest. Khyrrzurrec forced the weapon deeper still until the troll king suddenly tensed up before collapsing; the burning axe had torn into his heart.
"Die, fell creature," Khyrrzurrec hissed as he tore his weapon free.
Rendspine fell to the ground with a satisfying thud, leaving Khyrrzurrec with a triumphant, yet still bestial, grin on his face. Still, he chopped off all of Rendspine's heads to make sure that he truly was dead; one could never be too sure when dealing with trolls. Khyrrzurrec put his axe back on his belt before taking one of Rendspine's heads in his free hand. Part of him wanted to take another as his own personal trophy, but he decided against it. He didn't have the room, and he had a feeling he would be taking an extended stay at Northwatch once he returned. Still, he also walked over to Dagharontrix's head, chopped off a section of horn no longer than a short sword, and looped it onto his belt. All Khyrrzurrec had to do now as find Myranda.
He looked around the cavern and saw no sign of anyone else besides Rendspine and Dagharontrix... but he did see a small tunnel entrance tucked away behind a pair of looming stalagmites. He walked up to it and found that it was just large enough for a troll to fit through, which meant that he fit through it quite easily even while carrying one of Rendspine's heads.
The tunnel soon led into a small cavern with a ceiling that was needled by stalactites. A human woman sat at the center, her hands bound by crude ropes. She wore leather armor and clothing, albeit ragged, torn, and covered in dirt, and she was fairly muscular, more so than simply being athletically built. Her long red hair came down in full waves while a cold fire resided in her piercing blue eyes. Despite the dirt on her face, a rugged beauty could still be seen.
"Who are you?" she asked bluntly.
Khyrrzurrec flashed a wolfish grin. "You must be Myranda."
"What is it to you, dark elf?"
"I am Khyrrzurrec. Your father sent me here to rescue you."
"I do not believe that for a moment." Myranda glared up at Khyrrzurrec.
"I can leave you here if you want." Khyrrzurrec began turning around. "However, when I return to Northwatch, I will not hesitate to tell your father that you refused to come with me because I am a dark elf, though I am only half. It is the beard that gives it away."
Myranda continued to glare at Khyrrzurrec as he fully turned away.
"Fine," she huffed right before her rescuer had taken his first step out of the cavern. "I will come with you."
Khyrrzurrec turned back around toward Myranda, still grinning at her. "How magnanimous of you to allow me to free you." He started walking toward her.
"Do not push it," she snapped back.
Khyrrzurrec shook his head as he knelt down and started cutting Myranda's bonds with his axe. "You are a fighter," he said, "I have to give you that."
"I am glad that you recognize that; it means that you will not try anything."
Khyrrzurrec merely gave a nod. It was not hard to tell that Myranda had spent much of her life around the unsavory kinds of men that only wanted a woman to listen to him and have his children. As far as Khyrrzurrec was concerned, they were not real men.
Myranda wasted no time in standing up once Khyrrzurrec had finished freeing her. She was not short by any stretch, but the top of her head only came up to Khyrrzurrec's chin.
"Do you have a weapon?" Khyrrzurrec asked. He did not believe that they would have to fight the rest of the trolls in the encampment, not with Rendspine's hammer and one of his heads in tow, but one never knew with trolls. They tended to be both chaotic and stupid.
Myranda shook her head. "Those damn trolls decided to use my bow and arrows as firewood." She punctuated her statement with an angry grunt.
"Do you know how to use an axe?"
"Aye."
Khyrrzurrec set down Rendspine's head, pulled his axe free from his belt, and handed it to Myranda by the handle.
"Thank you," Myranda said as she took the weapon from Khyrrzurrec's grip. "But what are you going to use?"
Khyrrzurrec grinned. "Follow me." He turned around and began walking out of the cavern.
Myranda followed. Khyrrzurrec stopped when he got to Rendspine's corpse, and he picked up the troll king's hammer. In an instant, it shrunk down so that he had no trouble wielding it in one hand, and he could tell that the sorcery within the weapon had not diminished despite its new size.
"Ah," Myranda said.
"I still expect that axe back," Khyrrzurrec said, "It was forged for me by a dear friend."
"I did not know that your kind could make friends."
A flash of anger ran through Khyrrzurrec's eyes as his tone became as cold as death:
"Follow. Me."
He began stalking out of the cavern, right past Rendspine's corpse and straight toward the troll encampment, and he did not wait for Myranda. Moving at a quick pace, the half-dark-elf easily left the encampment. The trolls did not so much as look at him or Myranda.
"Slow down!" she called. Despite the fact that she had been raised to endure the frigidness of the tundra, Khyrrzurrec set a pace that she struggled to keep up with. "It was only a joke!"
At that, Khyrrzurrec came to an abrupt stop and glared at Myranda over his shoulder. Regret had started to cloud her deep blue eyes. The two of them now stood under a small cluster of skeletal trees that was surrounded by a pond of stagnant water. Frost had kissed every part of the whole scene.
"It is not a joke," Khyrrzurrec hissed, "Do you know who forged the axe you now hold?"
Myranda gulped. "You said that a dear friend-
Khyrrzurrec's voice turned into a growl as he wasted no time in interrupting innkeeper's daughter. "Yes, Ardohr Foehammer, the leader of the company of dwarves who took me in after freeing me from the tyranny of dark elf enslavement. My only crime was that I was a half-breed; my mother, a priestess of the spider goddess Sheishkar, had taken my father, a human warrior, as a trophy for another successful raid on the surface. I was condemned to a life of slavery and brutality before I had even been born, but Ardohr and his company had taken a contract to raid an adamantine mine where I was working. The dwarf saw me and, as he put it, the fire of determination to be something better, to live a better life, and so, as he told me, he could not help but oblige. It was Ardohr who took me in and raised me as his son even though I was not a dwarf. He tolerated every glare he got because of me, and he shaped me into the warrior, the man, I am today. I would not be alive without him. He forged that axe for me during the week before my first contract with the company; I have used it ever since."
Myranda's eyes had already filled with tears. "I am so sorry... I wish I could meet him."
"Unfortunately, that will never happen. He is dead; a troll killed him while we were on our way here, but I was at least able to avenge him."
"Killing Rendspine was avenging him?"
Khyrrzurrec shook his head. "No. The troll that killed Ardohr and the rest of my brethren is already long dead."
Myranda cocked her head in curiosity as she whispered her next question: "So why did you finish the job?"
"I needed a place to stay, and Ardohr would have wanted me to finish it. He could never tolerate tyranny, and I will not either. Everyone deserves the opportunity that I was given."
Myranda gave a solemn nod. "Thank you for giving me that opportunity."
"It is what Ardohr would have wanted."
"You will have a home in Northwatch, Khyrrzurrec. I promise."
He shrugged. "We shall see."
Before Myranda could respond, Khyrrzurrec had already turned around and begun walking again. He and Myranda moved quickly; it was not long before they were back on the open tundra. The sun still hung high in the sky, though it was starting its evening descent.
"We will not make it back to Northwatch tonight," Khyrrzurrec said.
Myranda nodded. "Agreed."
"We will still travel until nightfall?" Khyrrzurrec looked at Myranda expectantly.
She nodded again. "You think that I cannot keep up with you just because I am a woman? I was raised to be a warrior just like you."
"Just like me?" Khyrrzurrec gave a wolfish grin. "Tell me, Myranda, have you ever slain a dragon?"
"No..."
"You know that I have, and he was not even my first one. Know that I was asking if you could travel until nightfall not because I doubted your endurance due to you being female. In fact, the fiercest warrior I ever knew was a dark elf woman who moved with otherworldly fluidity and wielded a pair of swords that are blacker than the darkest night I have ever seen on the surface. I asked because you know your limits better than I do, and I do not want you to fall over and die because you pushed yourself too hard. An extra body is too much for me to carry."
Khyrrzurrec turned away and began walking.
"That was quite cruel, you know," Myranda huffed as she stomped her way through the snow to catch up with Khyrrzurrec.
"The truth is known for being quite cruel, but telling it is the only way to live," the half-dark-elf replied blandly.
Myranda gave no response, and so she and Khyrrzurrec trekked across the tundra in silence. They maintained the pace that they had set; the troll encampment was out of sight within only an hour or so, and they were far beyond the swamp as the red light of dusk began to creep across the sky. Yet, as the sun fell, so too did the temperature. Myranda found herself shivering despite her thick leathers.
"There is a cave about an hour away from here," she said, "I keep some supplies in there for when I find myself out hunting later than I intended."
Khyrrzurrec gave a curt nod. "Lead on."
Myranda immediately veered off to the east, and Khyrrzurrec followed. They saw the outline of the cave's mouth right as nightfall was truly starting. However, Khyrrzurrec abruptly stopped before dropping into a prowling stance.
"What is it?" Myranda asked.
"Quiet," Khyrrzurrec hissed in a low voice. "Get down."
Myranda obeyed; she crouched down as low as she could. Khyrrzurrec threw a glance up ahead and saw the vague outline of a pair of frost giants coming toward them; they were only slightly larger than trolls. The heavy plated armor they wore clanked against itself as they moved.
"Damn it," Khyrrzurrec growled, "Frost giants."
"We will not be able to fight them!" Myranda whispered hoarsely.
"We are going to have to; they are headed straight for your cave."
"Then we will find another place to rest... or get to Northwatch. I do not give a damn what we do as long as it does not involve fighting the those frost giants."
Khyrrzurrec grinned. "Tell me... What have you killed in your life?"
"A few orcs..."
"Child's play. Perhaps I made a mistake in thinking that you are woman; it is clear now that you are only a girl."
"I have killed more orcs than any of those guards back at Northwatch, especially Colther and Emerson. Cowardly bastards."
Khyrrzurrec chuckled as he shook his head. "Prepare for a real fight." He reached out to the sorcery within Rendspine's hammer and demanded that the lightning within show itself.
And so it did.
The tundra surrounding Khyrrzurrec and Myranda immediately became bathed in brilliant purple light as the head of Rendspine's hammer became utterly wreathed in seething lightning. Khyrrzurrec let out a roar as he rose to his full height and charged to meet the frost giants.
Letting out discordant roars of their own, the frost giants met Khyrrzurrec head on, bashing their axes against their shields all the while. The one on the half-dark-elf's left closed the distance first, and he wasted no time in swinging his axe at the his foe. Khyrrzurrec leaped out of the way. As he did so, he whirled around and swung Rendspine's hammer at the frost giant's shin. It hit home with a thundering crack that sent lightning cascading over the frost giant. He let out a roar of pain as he fell to the ground.
Suddenly, pain exploded all over Khyrrzurrec's body as the second frost giant slammed his shield into the half-dark-elf and sent him to the ground.
"Khyrrzurrec!" Myranda cried as she rose up and brandished the axe he had given her.
"More meat!" the second frost giant roared as he charged Myranda.
Khyrrzurrec forced himself to rise. "No!"
Yet, the first frost giant had been quicker. "Not so fast; I am not done with you."
"I will make you wish you were."
Khyrrzurrec lunged forward and swung Rendspine's hammer at his foe. The frost giant beat the weapon back with his shield before hacking at Khyrrzurrec with his axe. Letting out a raging roar, the half-dark-elf threw his shield up and blocked the blow, causing the sound of grinding metal to fill the air. He swung Rendspine's hammer again; it slammed into the frost giant's chest and sent him staggering back. Still, Khyrrzurrec swung again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, the hammer's head slammed into the frost giant's chest, driving it back further and filling the air with a gruesome song of striking steel and crushing bones. Khyrrzurrec drove the final blow home; the frost giant let out one last roar before falling to the ground and dying.
Turning to face Myranda, Khyrrzurrec saw that she was holding off the remaining frost giant with surprising skill. Good. That gave him time to point Rendspine's hammer at their remaining foe and unleash a seething lightning bolt that smote him where he stood. He could only let out a grunt before collapsing.
Myranda quickly rejoined Khyrrzurrec, and they closed the distance between themselves and her cave. The inside of it was small, barely large enough to house the two of them. Myranda began to unroll the two wool blankets that were next to her thick leather pack that was leaned up against the cave wall.
"I am sorry about what I said earlier," she said as she handed a blanket to Khyrrzurrec.
"Which statement?" the half-dark-elf replied as he removed his helmet and breastplate.
"The one about you not having any friends."
Khyrrzurrec set his shield next to his breastplate and shrugged. "You did not know any better." Rendspine's hammer joined the pile of steel that Khyrrzurrec had created.
"That does not make it right."
"The world does not run on what is right. It runs on what is true, and the truth is that I have no friends. The troll killed them all."
"Look at me!" Myranda's eyes glared into Khyrrzurrec's. "Are you going to let me apologize or not?"
"Why are you apologizing?"
"Because I hurt you."
"Not in any way that matters. I only care about physical wounds. Do you have any food? All of that fighting has me starving."
Myranda huffed as she opened her pack and handed Khyrrzurrec a sizable portion of salted meat along with a square of hard tack and a chunk of equally hard white cheese.
"Thank you," Khyrrzurrec said with a nod.
He ate voraciously, having both seconds and thirds before washing it all down with a skin full of water. The food was decent, not the greatest, though his hunger made it taste even better. Myranda ate at a slower pace. However, she did not consume nearly as much, and so she finished her meal at the same time he did, leaving them both sitting in silence as they stared out at the starry night.
"This is a good cave," Khyrrzurrec finally said. The chill of the night had not yet gotten through his wolf-pelt cloak.
Myranda, however, was shivering despite her blanket. "Thank you..."
"You will freeze to death at this rate." Khyrrzurrec draped his blanket over Myranda's shoulders.
"There is not need for that. Besides, you will get cold." Myranda started to take the blanket off.
Khyrrzurrec's hands clamped the blanket onto her shoulders. "I will be fine."
Myranda smiled and shook her head. "I do not get it."
"What do you not get?"
"I started off by insulting you and ridiculing you, and yet you still have done so much for me. Why?"
"It was my job."
"No. It is more than that; I can tell."
Khyrrzurrec shrugged. "Think what you will. It really does not matter to me."
"Look at me, Khyrrzurrec." Myranda's tone had turned soft.
"What?" Khyrrzurrec turned to meet her gaze.
She lunged forward and kissed him,
Fiercely.
Deeply.
Passionately.
Khyrrzurrec saw a new fire in her eyes as she pulled away.
"I... I do not know what to say..." Khyrrzurrec said; his voice was heavy with uncharacteristic uncertainty.
Myranda gave a shy smile. "You are my hero... Besides, it is not like I am betrothed to anyone." Her smile widened. "You have never been intimate with a woman before, have you?" She edged closer to Khyrrzurrec.
He averted his gaze as his face turned bright red. "I... I am warrior..."
"I know," Myranda whispered in Khyrrzurrec's ear. "Do not worry; this will be my first time too. Just promise not to tell my father, alright?"
Khyrrzurrec gave a shadow of his wolfish grin. "...Alright."
* * *
Both Khyrrzurrec and Myranda found themselves refreshed the next morning, more than ready to finish the journey to Northwatch.
The End
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