Chapter Four: Silent Rising

A troll with pinkish-lavender blood looked over the sheltering low and mid-bloods from her hive's balcony. She sighed and walked down to go walk among them. Her Fated weaved among them, tending to their wounds and bring them food. She put a hand on a tired looking Fated and took over his job after telling him to rest. She fixed food and brought it out to the would-be-culled trolls. As she bent down to help replace a troll's bandages, the wounded troll gasped and froze, her eyes fixated on something behind the high-blood. The lavender blood would have thought the other had seen death itself. But she knew who it was behind her and smiled.

"Hello, Collector." The she-troll finished and stood up, turning to look at the bright green-blood, "I hope you bring good news."

"I do, Usurper. The deed is done. He is being tended to by my matesprit."

"Can she make the journey well, or should I send some of my people back with you?" She motioned to him in a friendly way for him to follow as she walked back to her hive.

"She's stubborn, you know that. She's told me not to go back. Plus, she has to make the distraction so that he may escape unnoticed." He bowed his head, still covered by the hood. His skin was so pigment-less, he'd get burned even by the light of the now-rising sun. He'd traveled all night.

The Usurper nodded sadly, "Do you wish to return to her to help?" He looked up at him, but received a shake of the head.

"She would kick my ass if I offered anything of the sort." He laughed.

"That stubborn old goat." She laughed as well, rolling her eyes as she opened the door and let him in. He stepped over the refugees inside and followed her to the stairs. Once the door to the study was shut, they spoke in hushed tones.

"Is he really safe? No one has suspected him or UnderTaker?" She shut the window.

"Yes. No one would dare interfere with Lady Death herself…though I worry. The Grand Highblood acts suspicious…He never stays long when he comes to ask, but his visits are frequent enough. With my absence he'll get even more suspicious."

"She would do well to get out of there with him, soon…My Fated are loosing their faith. The Sufferer was the only one who kept them going and his execution rattled them to the bones. Many have left me. Too many of these trolls are second guessing themselves. They need their risen martyr." She stared out the window, "Else we may all lose… We have the forces…"

"But we lack the willpower." The Collector finished for her, "We will succeed, Usurper. I promise you this." He reached forward and gripped his Moirail's shoulder. She smiled back at him.

"Of all the people we've lost, I'm glad you still stay with me."

"I'm your Moirail. I could never leave you. You and UnderTaker are the only people who have kept me sane through everything I've been through." He motioned to himself and the obvious sickness that scarred his body and dulled his eyes. "The least I can do is return the favor."

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"…" The Sufferer watched UnderTaker as she stared at the ceiling, listening. Her hand hovered over her weapons. A loud crash had sounded from above them earlier and UnderTaker had shoved the mutant blood into a hiding place. Half an hour passed before the UnderTaker hesitantly walked over to the hiding place and motioned for him to come out, "What was that…?" He asked.

"It's best you don't ask. But it seems you'll have to leave early." She grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the 'work room'-as UnderTaker called it-and into the hive in the back. Her dead, but suddenly alert, eyes kept flicking to the ceiling before she pushed him through the front door and outside. Her low hiss of a voice dropped even lower as she whispered, "Follow the cliffs. Stay out of view of the ocean." She wrapped a cloak around him, "Once you're in the mountains, find a Fated and show your blood." She paused and set her hands on his shoulders, "As much as I hate to send you on your own…" She sighed, making her tank hiss, "Be safe. You're all we have left."

The Sufferer smiled, "I will. And thank you. I owe you my life."

She smiled back, tilting her head. He knew she was smiling under the mask just because of the small movement*, "Your life means nothing to me. But it means the universe to the trolls in the mountains. I suggest you hurry." She patted his back, and the two trolls parted ways.

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*The Collector, being her matesprit, knows her mood just by her eyes and odd body language. The Sufferer figured this out after a week spent with her.