NOVEL FROG Cavern Exile: The Lava Trolls Come
The two warriors flanking the chief smash two dwarf-sized salamanders into paste with two mighty blows that shake the cavern and stumble the rest of the swarm. Another even larger one leaps onto the chief’s chest, grips his shoulders with taloned paws, and breathes fire into his face. The fire washes over the steel-scale helmet like empty wind and the chief slashes with both hands. The salamander falls apart into slices with an explosion of hot blood that rains over the swarm below.
Smaller salamanders crawl onto the trolls’ legs, biting and hissing fire, trying to get through the armor. Hayhek, Dwatrall and I rush forward to assist. With the longest range and unerring accuracy, I am best positioned to pick them off.
I have forged my helmet well. I see the perfect angle to hit each salamander, at the proper range. My gauntlets work in tandem to position Heartseeker exactly as I envision it, then my jabs strike forward of Heartseeker’s accord. The dark-glowing spear moves in and out like a piston, and each stab bisects the heart of a salamander. They fall down bleeding from the chief’s legs.
Those biting at the other two trolls scent the blood of their fellows and jump off toward us, but Hayhek and Dwatrall step forward of me to engage. With each swing of Hayhek’s titanium axe, runed with sharpness and speed, a salamander loses its head. The biggest of them, six feet long, rushes Dwatrall. He misjudges the range of his hammer blow and it bites his head.
Its teeth bring up naught but sparks. Dwatrall punches it away. It sprays fire which washes off the armor, then he crushes its head with his hammer. Brains ooze from its fractured skull.
Freed from trying to pull away the salamanders biting at their legs, the chief and two warriors are able to get to their friend. The chief gets in close, slashing apart those salamanders crawling on the warrior, while the two with hammers protect his flanks.
Another five minutes of battle and it is over. The ground is soaking with steaming blood. The river troll chief pulls the last salamander off his warrior’s face and roars in anger. The helmet could not stand up to the gnawing and was torn asunder, and the troll’s face beneath is a baked mess.
Dwatrall shakes his head sadly. “I told him...”
“What are we going to do now?” I ask.
“Press ahead. Death is not so uncommon to us.”
The chief has the two remaining warriors test the rest of the boulders. More pits reveal their gaping mouths, but the salamander filled room below has already been emptied. Once the correct path is opened, we leave the trap room into a further tunnel beyond.
Before we do so, I take a look back. How many salamanders did we kill? Close to two hundred, it seems. But victory came at the cost of one of our number, and we haven't even seen a lava troll yet.
The tunnel is much like the last one, vivid yellow and rather dark. It ascends, and branches many times. The chief seems to be choosing which way to go at random, and I grow worried.
“Which way are we heading?” I whisper to Dwatrall.
“Where he feels.”
“What? None of you have been here before, right?”
“That's right. But I trust what he feels.”
“Us dwarves prefer to have a map,” Hayhek adds in a low voice.
“Trolls need no maps. We spend our lives in darkness. He feels the currents of the air, scent paths, senses old footprints in the gravel.”
“I don’t quite see how that’s going to lead us to the hammer,” I whisper nervously.
“Not to the hammer directly. To lava trolls. We will ask them.”
“They won’t tell us so easily,” Hayhek says.
“Not easily. It will require much... persuasion.”
I grimace. Nothing deserves torture, not even lava trolls, even if they do eat dwarves sometimes.
“So you’re saying we’re hunting them?” I ask.
“Yes but... I’m worried too, Zathar.”
“About if we can beat them?”
“It is the hunter who should spring the ambush, not the prey.”
“They’re going to ambush us?” Hayhek asks in a worried tone.
“It’s a logical conclusion. They must have heard our fight against the salamanders, for it was far from silent, but none have come for us. Therefore, they’re biding their time.”
“Are we being led into another trap, then?” I ask.
“I fear so.”
“Shouldn’t you tell him that?”
“I think he knows. I don’t think he cares. I think he wants a fight.”
I’m sweating as we continue the march. The chief always struck me as fairly calm and collected—for a troll, at least. This new, revenge driven side of him worries me. There’s more of them than there are of us, and though I’ve been confident up until now, doubts are starting to creep in. This expedition is beginning to feel badly planned—hell, it’s barely been planned at all.
We are just sitting down to eat when they finally find us. At either end of the small cave we’re sitting in, two of them appear. As per Hayhek’s description they are a little shorter than the river trolls, yet wider of chest and longer of arm, with gray skin and orange teeth. Their black eyes leer greedily at us. A heat rises from each, making the dark air shimmer.
We stand up to face them—Dwatrall, Hayhek and I toward one end of the cave, the chief and the two warriors toward the other. Down the tunnel I can see more, standing in a long row. They plan to exhaust us.
“There’s only room for one to fight at a time,” I say. “I’ll go first.”
“Let me,” Dwatrall says.
“No,” I say.
I’m here for my key, yes. But I’m also down here to see what I’m capable of. If I’m going to find my brother, I will face a great deal worse than lava trolls. Besides, I killed a troll before. Can these ones really be so much stronger?
I stab at its eye. It reaches up with its hand to grab the blade and Heartseeker goes through its palm. Orange blood oozes out, bright against the dark yellow of the tunnel. I twist and pull, but the lava troll clenches its fist. I tug harder, but the blood oozing around Heartseeker’s blade is blackening and solidifying.
“Shit!” I cry out.
The lava troll kicks me in the chest. My armor is strong and does not crumple, but the force is plenty enough to send me flying back into Dwatrall and Hayhek.
Heartseeker remains stuck in the lava troll’s palm. It doesn’t seem to care; its face twists into a hideous leer. With its free hand it grabs Heartseeker’s shaft. My eyes widen in horror. Aluminum is far from unbendable. The lava troll’s fingers tighten hard around the runes.
“No!” I scream, and scramble to my feet.
Hayhek is the one who saves it. He charges and swings at the troll’s wrist with speed that would put many a runeknight to shame. His axe cleaves deep into the muscles of its arm and a second later Dwatrall’s steel-clad hand snakes out from above and yanks Heartseeker from the lava troll’s grasp.
I take it up again gladly. Hayhek and Dwatrall pile into the troll, Hayhek cleaving at its legs with light, fast slashing blows while Dwatrall strikes at its face, holding his hammer like a too-short spear. He’s forced to use it this way because the tunnel is so tight, but he foresaw this problem: sticking from the hilt is a long spike.
The lava troll takes the punishment without complaint, even once its eyes are gone and its legs shreds that can no longer support its weight. It falls down.
I glance back, and see that the lava trolls taking on the chief are faring no better. Three lie piled on top of each other, a tangled mess of semi-severed limbs, leaking guts, and split heads, all coated in gelatinous orange solidifying to black. My battle tension fades slightly. In the end, they’re just trolls. Not so much tougher than the one I faced in the arena.
The hard crust of black over the three trolls cracks. The limbs wriggle like worms within. Steam rises. I watch in horror as the cuts in the limbs begin to seal up, the guts retreat back into the bellies, and the split heads reform and beastial black eyes roll to look at me. The gelatinous orange drains back into the three trolls’ wounds before their skin closes up as smooth as when I first laid eyes upon them.
The pile begins to untangle itself. I shout a warning to the chief and warrior trolls. The one closest to me, not engaged in combat, turns and looks down. He smashes his hammer into the top lava troll.
Its spine is crushed—has to be. Yet it still leaps up, and grabs the troll warrior around his throat. The other two clamber to their feet as I back away, and in this little cave where only a minute ago we were getting ready to fill our bellies, there is room for them to stand side by side.
I quickly glance back—Hayhek and Dwatrall are down the corridor, hacking apart their second troll, not noticing the first slowly knitting itself back together. One eye, already reformed, is staring at me.
I can worry about that one in a second. The two before me are ready to kill, one flexing its claws, and the other has stinking steam puffing from its mouth.