Chapter 8

The return

The four moved quickly through the darkness in the forest, getting closer and closer to their destination – the source of all the commotion, cries of battle and pain in the mercenary camp. As Sitrim and his companions reached it, they remained in a safe distance observing a fearsome struggle that might not be for those with weaker nerves.

The mercenaries were holding a perimeter against an unknown force that threw waves of spears and arrows at them but with no visible effect, as only a few were wounded. The mercenaries quickly formed a so called tortoise formation – with shields covering the front and top of their tight formation, successfully absorbing most of the damage. Once organizing a defensive line, the mercenaries started counterattacking with their own arrow barrages and even guns through the holes between the shields. Blindly shooting at the darkness that covered the forest, the effect of such an attack was not visible.

Luckily it seemed like there was a male mage amongst the group (strangely…they were all males! Perhaps the elf has indeed peculiar tastes) who started conjuring fire balls and throwing them at the darkness with the intent to not only kill, but at the same time set the forest on fire - revealing the enemy in hiding with its' bright tongues. But strangely all the fireballs that entered the darkness quickly… disappeared like they were swallowed by some unknown force, without being able to spread even a glimpse of light.

As the two forces clashed for a few moments with no visible change, the attackers slowly weakened with fewer and fewer arrows flying from their direction. This heightened the mercenary groups' spirit and they loosened their formation, with more than a few of them preparing to charge into the forest to finish off the remaining attacking force.

As our four "companions" observed this, they noticed shadowy figures running behind them, passing them in lightning speed. It seemed like the figures were encircling the mercenaries, using the situation to their advantage.

And as soon as the mercenaries couldn't take it anymore with a number of them charging towards the darkness in the forest, it suddenly came alive as numerous shadowy figures jumped out from all sides at the direction of the disorganized defenders.

At tremendous speed the figures launched their offensive and the second they attacked - already a few victims fell to the ground with missing limbs, remaining so with their blood covering the earth, painting it in a dark red color.

What Myriam and Damgarl saw was not mere humanoids but devils reincarnate. Even once they left the safe haven of their forest and entered the camp, it seemed like the darkness followed them, still covering their figures - only dark red eyes clearly visible. But what was already certain was that the figures were indeed – dark trolls. The skill they displayed was astonishing, as they steadily crushed the mercenary forces, quickly jumping from one opponent to the other, not even giving a chance to counterattack. And even if one or two managed to do just that – they missed as if slicing through mist, only to fall to the ground lifeless, without being given the chance to realize what happened.

The previously mentioned mage was also facing problems, as every fireball he launched at those shadowy monsters was somehow swallowed in a whirlpool of darkness, like hitting some kind of an impenetrable wall.

The surprising thing was that the trolls attacked in an extremely organized way, moving in strange and confusing patterns, switching places with each other after each hit and showing a fantastic performance of athletic abilities.

"Now you see the reason for being called the dark trolls"- Sitrim explained while everyone watched the battle closing to its' end – "Not only for their dark skin, but for their unmatched ability as night warriors"

The rest did not reply, as there was nothing to say - the view spoke for itself. Only a handful of mercenaries remained, with Ildrin in the middle, shouting his last commands to his bought companions. The four witnessed as one of the trolls masterfully parried a large sword with two one-handed axes, quickly countering by attacking the sword wielders legs and making him fall to his knees, only to lose his head the next second. Similarly gruesome fates awaited the remainder of the mercenaries, with Ildrin remaining last. He let out a desperate shout as he swung his two swords around, only to be slowly swallowed by the darkness around, ripped to shreds by the merciless dark trolls, limbs flying to all sides and blood being spilled like wine in a summer festival.

As the dreadful fight was over, the trolls quickly vanished from once they came dragging all the bodies with them leaving only trails of blood where the camp was once stationed.

"How horrible'" – Myriam said while nervously searching for any survivor, shocked by the speed of the monstrosities that took place a moment ago.

"Darn…Good thing I listened to you. Even I wouldn't have wanted to be part of something like that"- Damgarl added while directing his thanks to Sitrim.

And the silent human was about to reply to the two, but was interrupted by a sudden guest – the dark troll guide, that the four traveled with came out from behind them.

"This be him?"- He asked Zal'jin, while tilting his head towards Sitrims direction.

Zal'jin replied with a nod, and the dark troll quickly turned around after getting an answer, slowly walking back into the depths of the forest he previously left.

"The Chief be waitin' for ya, follow me"- He then added and hastened his pace once the four started following him.

Our companions followed the silent dark troll for a whole day, marching towards an unknown direction through the dark unforgiving forest without rest. As they traveled, everyone noticed that they were being watched by numerous eyes, some of them from above, and some from the sides. The strange thing was that it seemed like a major part of them were different individuals, giving the realization of the sheer number of observers to the four.

"It seems your people are prospering here"- Sitrim revealed his realization to Zal'jin.

"Yes, all thanks to your kingdom master"- The troll replied, while slightly bowing his head.

"Now now, I've been gone for a very long time, there is no need to praise me for something I'm not responsible for"- The "master" then replied with a grin on his face.

"We be here"- The dark guide then intervened, pointing his hand towards a medium sized tent, that was shaped like a pyramid with smoothe edges. The tent was stationed in a small field that was still covered up by the branches of gigantic trees, keeping most of the light from entering.

"Only he can enter"- The troll then added, while pointing at Sitrim, once he noticed that all four were about to step into the tent.

The three remained near the entrance, while Sitrim continued towards the tent. Once he reached the entrance and opened it up, the human noticed that the inside was pitch black - filled with thick darkness that looked almost like a solid wall. Without hesitation he entered, only to find himself in an environment where he could not distinguish anything, nor could he understand how large the space inside was, since the darkness seemed to be endless. He closed his eyes and stood silently so for a while, only to sense a presence in front. Once he did, Sitrim opened his eyes again and glared at the mentioned direction.

After a few moments of looking at nothingness, he suddenly noticed two red lights that seemed like eyes appear. The lights started moving and after getting closer to Sitrim stopped. The next second a faint fire lit up between him and the so called eyes, revealing the inside of the tent. What stood in front of Sitrim was an old dark troll with long gray hair lying on his shoulders. The trolls face was hidden behind a strange and quite ugly mask and he was holding a long staff with skulls hanging from it. The troll leaned closer towards his guest and took a closer look at Sitrims' face.

"So you are the one?"- He then said, with a rough voice, while expressing his thoughts very fluently - "My name is Jan'dri. I am the Chief and witchdoctor of my people in these lands. If you prove to us, that you are indeed the one we must serve, then we shall honor the blood pact that was made ages past"

"Good, it is time to finish what I started. Guide me to my castle and you shall receive the proof you need"- Sitrim replied with an expressionless face.

"Very well, it's not far from here. I shall guide you" – The dark troll chief replied and slowly turned towards the exit.

The two quickly left the tent and Jan'dri continued deeper into the woods in a slow pace, giving Sitrim enough time to exchange information with his companion.

"What took you so long? We were waiting here for almost an hour"- Myriam complained.

"Yeah, you were drinking there or something?"- Damgarl added with a mistrusting glare directed towards Sitrim – "You better have some left if so.."

"Follow me and you shall see the result of my visit"- Sitrim replied, ant turned to follow Jan'dri, who didn't get far.

"It better be a cellar with plenty of alcohol"- Damgarl murmured to himself as he started to follow Sitrim.

The group continued so for at least six hours, traveling through the thick forest again, with no rest or breathers. As time went by, Myriam noticed a slight change of scenery since it seemed like the trees were a lot older here and the forest itself was even thicker, so thick that she even had to light a fire to see where the group was going, since not even a single ray of light made its' way through the branches, even thought it was mid-day.

After a while, the group finally reached an opening, stepping into a lovely valley, with a large glittering lake in the middle. It seemed like the lakes surface absorbed the sun rays, releasing an almost blinding glitter. But neither Jan'dri nor Sitrim stopped to watch that lovely view, as they continued besides the lake, with their destination now visible. In front of them stood a large dome shaped building out of rock. The structure was covered in growth and there did not seem to be an entrance visible, at least it seemed so until Jan'dri reached its' walls. The troll stepped towards it and moved all the growth, revealing a dark passage to the group. This time Sitrim took the lead and entered, with the rest behind him.

Myriam on the other hand hesitated for a while, with her sight fixed on the lake, she seemed to be lost in thought, only to return to the group in time, avoiding being left behind. Once inside, she found stairs going down in a spiral, and walked down them together with the rest. The stairs continued down for some time and it seemed like they walked quite a while, until they finally reached the awaited bottom. Once there, Sitrim continued onwards through a narrow passage, only to reach an opening.

They stepped into a very large round chamber, which was quite bright from the light that was coming through a hole in the ceiling. In the middle of the oval chamber stood a throne, with nothing else worth mentioning around, except strange drawings on the walls, which Myriam instantly started to investigate with the eyes of an expert. She also looked closely at the throne which seemed to be quite simple, yet comfortable. It had a few skull ornaments on it, with a horned beast at the head of the "royal" seat. The identity of the beast was hard to distinguish, since the throne itself seemed to be covered in growth, grass growing even on the seat, which seemed strange.

"Damn, nice place you got here!"- Damgarl noticed – "So where's the alcohol?"- He then added with anticipation and thirst in his eyes.

"Indeed, it seems not much has changed"- Sitrim replied, ignoring the second part of the dwarves' speech, and stepped towards the throne.

Once he reached it, he drew out his sword, placed his helm on one of the thrones arms and sat down, with the sword held by his left hand in front of him, placed with the sharp end on the ground. He then took off his right glove and with a swift move sliced his palm open at the edge of the large blade. Sitrim then squeezed some blood out of the wound and watched it fall on the solid ground beneath his feet, murmuring some strange words to himself that could hardly be heard by the others.

Myriam then realized something - she looked around again and noticed a number of quite small passage-ways in the walls that were covered in darkness, together with the drawings she did not analyze quickly enough. She noticed that the drawings spoke off the dead, being awaken, with an illustration of a tall figure with a crown standing above what seemed like bodies, who were standing in another illustration. She then realized that the tall figure with the crown had a very strong resemblance to the drawing in Sitrims burial chamber. Once that came to be, she turned to Zal'jin.

"What place is this?" – She asked him with narrowed eyes, voice – flattened.

"My masters' castle"- He replied without hesitation, not even giving an eye to Myriam as his sight was fixed on Sitrim.

And that was when Myriam finally understood what he meant by saying "castle". She locked her sight at the small passages we mentioned earlier and with an unpleasant feeling waited for something to happen.

"What the heck is Sitrim doing over there?"- Damgarl asked only to hear a strange sound coming from the sides of the chamber – "What was that? Are they bringing the ale?"- He then added with a desperate tone, while grabbing Rebecca tighter.

"You don't want to know…" – Myriam replied with a trembling voice and watched as Jan'dri with Zal'jin kneeled facing Sitrim, with the sounds of groans and numerous footsteps getting closer to the main chamber by the minute – "So he indeed is…."