For the first time since they’d landed here in the middle of that terrible storm, Einarr could see the night sky. He had thought, of course, that by seeing the stars they would be able to guess where in the sea they had been taken. It was not to be.

In other circumstances, he would have loved being able to show this sky to Runa. The moon was a brilliant silver orb, and all around it shone more stars than any man could hope to count, so brightly that the sky itself seemed a shimmery blue rather than black. But the sight that was so beautifully vibrant above also proved that they were in no place Einarr could even guess at. He could not see a single constellation that might help point their way home.

He shared his watch with Jorir, but while the dwarf knew herb-craft better than Einarr expected any man of the clans to he had made plain he was no navigator. The stars were beyond his ken. Still, however, for the best that Runa watched with Erik. He was the best fighter of the four of them, but also the most reckless. Einarr heaved a sigh: that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“What’s on yer mind?” Jorir asked from his perch at the top of the rise.

“Where are we?”

“The Isle of the Forgotten, we’ve been told. I think the Lady might be better equipped to tell you that than I.” Jorir did him the courtesy of not feigning ignorance of the question, at least.

“You’ve never seen a sky like this before either, then.”

“Never. Although…” As his voice trailed off, Einarr heard the sound of a body sliding down a grassy slope, and then the dwarf’s footsteps approached. “If we’re tryin’ ta avoid the attention of a troll, now might not be the moment to talk about this.”

Einarr nodded. “You’re right, of course. My turn on the rise?”

“If you would.”

Off in the distance, further along the trail they had been following, there was a great crash of stone cracking against stone. Einarr cracked a wry smile, knowing nobody else would see it. “It seems I was right.”

“Quite. It also seems as though your troll is hunting elsewhere.”

“For now. Perhaps.” With a nod to himself, Einarr bent over and half-crawled up the slope of the hill. At the top, he stretched out on his stomach to make a less obvious target for anyone who happened to be looking. Or throwing.

Another crash, this one from the way they had come. What was it doing? Einarr knit his brow: the only answers that occurred to him were ones he definitely did not like – ones that suggested this troll was far more clever than ordinary. He would move them if he thought they were in danger of being hit by a flying rock, or if it seemed like the creature was otherwise close to finding them, but he’d meant what he told Runa. If it came down to it, the four of them could probably defeat the troll, or at least drive it off. But there would be a price, and probably a heavy one, and he needed them all in good health to get out of here.

Over the course of the rest of his watch, Einarr listened as the stones narrowed gradually in on their location. While they came nearer, he still didn’t think the troll knew where they were. He sat up to begin scooting down the slope.

A blast of earth and rocks pelted him from behind, throwing him forward into a tumble down the hill. A curse escaped his lips as he somersaulted down the slope: “Shit!”

Erik and Runa were already up by the time he regained his feet, and Jorir was tossing his pack over a shoulder. It hardly seemed necessary, but Einarr gave his order anyway. “Run!”

No-one tried to argue. Erik threw his baldric over a shoulder and took off. Runa and Jorir were right behind. Was this proof that the troll knew where they were, and would soon be on top of them? No, and it was also possible that by running they had given themselves away, much like a grouse in the woods. It was also possible, probable even, that the next stone would have landed in the middle of their camp.

The rocky trail shone silver in the starlight. They raced for it, stones exploding from the ground around them as they went. Einarr took the lead. They would be more visible on the path. He turned alongside it, hoping the others would follow suit.

The ground beneath his feet was rough and stone-pocked, and would have been even without the troll’s attentions. Einarr was forced to slow after the third time his ankle turned under him and threatened to send him crashing to the ground.

The trail was leading them closer to the ridge. Einarr paled but did not slow as he realized the trap they were in – how the troll hunted. They could not leave the path, as they had no other way to find the village. But the path was no safe haven, not here. Auna had warned them, but he had not understood. He set his jaw and ran faster.

Ahead of him, the ground shook, although it was not the sound of stone on stone that assaulted Einarr’s ears this time. He raised his head and pulled up out of his headlong run to stop. They could run no farther, for there, on the trail ahead of them, stood a man the size of a bear that made the huldrekall look handsome. Its skin appeared dark grey in the starlight, and its broad, drooping nose obscured the rotted mouth from which fetid breath blew. Long shanks of lank black hair hung from its head and blended with the black skin it had draped itself with.

The troll had found them.

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Their vigil over Sivid’s work seemed to last for ages, even though the fact that no other guards arrived suggested he made fast work of the lock. A grinding of stone on stone signalled the opening of the door.

“We’re in,” Sivid confirmed.

All five men vanished through the doorway, with Einarr in the lead and Sivid bringing up the rear. The door closed behind them with the sound of stone on stone and a muffled click.

The narrow stair was ablaze with the blue-burning lanterns that illuminated the streets, but no guards waited inside to greet them. Einarr frowned, but did not hesitate: haste was their ally right now, and he was most of the way to the first corner when Sivid closed the door behind them.

Down they went, blades still drawn as they rushed for the bottom and the cell where Runa was held. Barri raced at his shoulder just a half-pace behind, aiming to strike at anyone who managed to dodge Einarr’s shield.

No guards rushed up to meet them.

Surely that couldn’t have been all of them, could it? Einarr scowled, now, and held up his shield to warn those behind him he intended to slow his descent. A handful of steps later the five came to a stop in the now eerily silent stairwell.

Einarr sheathed his sword and started looking about at the walls. “Something’s not right. There should be more of them.”

Sivid, too, was scowling. “You’re right. I don’t like this.”

The next lantern was two steps farther down from Einarr. He stepped down and reached for it. “Grab a light. Let’s not get stranded in the dark down there, at least.”

Then he was moving again, not running this time but still at a decent clip, the lantern held in place of his sword. If he was wrong he would have to do some quick juggling, but a certainty in his gut suggested he was not.

The silence continued all the way to the bottom of the stair. Einarr was beginning to feel as though he were in a pit rather than a castle dungeon, and the impression was not helped by the cold blue-purple lights they carried.

The bottom of the stair was a small antechamber carved from the living rock, much as the stairs themselves had been, with a single small door leading into a larger chamber. Einarr raised his lantern high as he stepped through, the feeling of wrongness from before slowing his steps.

The chamber walls curved off to either side, broken up now and then by a barred door, for as far as the light of their lanterns stretched. Einarr pursed his lips before moving off to the right, Jorir and Sivid in his wake, to begin peering into the cells. The Brunnings took the left-hand wall.

I’m missing something, Einarr thought after peering into yet another empty cell. Surely by now Runa should have realized they were there? Unless… A stone dropped in Einarr’s belly. What if they’d moved her after he and Sivid had retreated earlier?

A high-pitched, almost wheezing laughter rose from the edge of the darkness at the far side of the chamber. Einarr whirled around, lifting the lantern for a better look, but he needn’t have bothered. Another had flared to life, revealing a sallow-faced man with stringy hair and the armor of a guardsman. The ring of keys at his belt said he was a gaoler.

“Wheee heee hee,” he half-wheezed again. “Thought you’d come back, we did. Decided to show you our hospitality, we did.”

“What have you done with the Lady? Not six hours ago I heard her down here.”

“The lady, you say?” The ill-looking gaoler laughed again and nearly choked on the sound. “The lady is well taken-care of, sirs, and I’m afraid you’ve more important problems to concern yerselves with.”

A crooked grin, filled with crooked yellow teeth, spread across the gaoler’s face and he gave a strong tug on a rope that hung behind him. “Farewell, me hearties. Lord Urkúm sends his regards.”

The gaoler slid to the side and out of sight even as a much larger door behind him swung open. A primal scream rang out from beyond that door as out stumbled a hideous she-troll, a massive club clutched in her equally massive fist.

The she-troll screamed again, her eyes red with madness, and charged straight for Einarr, her bare dun breasts swinging pendulously with every step as she brought the club up in a two-handed grip over hair the color of dirty straw.

Einarr tossed his lantern at her head, not caring if it hit, and Sinmora rasped from its sheath. He bought himself just enough time to fling himself out of the way of her first strike with the tree-sized weapon.

Where did they find a troll? Einarr was quite certain he did not want to know the answer to that. No wonder, though, that there was no proper firelight to be had here. Trolls wouldn’t tolerate it, and neither would a good number of other monsters.

The troll bellowed again and swung the club over her head. She seemed to be staring at Jorir’s shield. Einarr swallowed against a dry throat as she swung and the hollow clang of wood on gold rang out in the chamber. The force of her swing knocked the dwarf back a good three feet, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.

If only we could have brought Reki with us… Einarr charged in at the troll’s back, knowing even as he did so that it was futile, hoping to buy the Brunnings time enough to do something about her. He hacked across her back with Sinmora. A thin line of dark blood appeared, and was just as quickly reabsorbed into her body. He spat a curse.

Sivid moved in now, slashing with blade and hand axe at once even as Jorir cut viciously at her knee. If the she-troll hadn’t been enraged before, she certainly was now.

The chamber grew brighter – not a lot, and not enough to change the quality of the light, but brighter – as the Vidofnings continued their futile sword dance about the she-troll. Yes. More. Come on. More fire.

Fire – real, yellow fire – was the only hope they had against the creature without access to certain forged magics they lacked unless Jorir could figure out how to make his shield become flame again. Still they danced about the troll, distracting her, because to do otherwise was to leave their allies undefended while they prepared the means of her defeat.

Sivid dropped hastily to a crouch – maybe not hastily enough, as when he stood his axe hand hung limp.

Einarr cut at the beast’s hamstrings. That’s right. Leave him alone for a bit, pay attention to me.

A bowstring sang, and a star of brilliant warm light shot towards the she-troll’s ribs.

In the same moment, the light grew near as bright as day and as warm as a campfire. Jorir wasted only a moment staring at the shield in surprise. Whatever he had done, it had worked, and now he charged at the troll shield first.

She roared again, this time in pain, as the flaming arrow embedded itself in her side. That was a wound that wouldn’t just heal immediately: she charged at Barri, who held another fire arrow already nocked, ignoring Jorir as though she had forgotten him.

That was her fatal mistake. Barri loosed once more, striking her knee this time. That stumble provided Jorir all the time he needed. He leapt for the she-trolls shoulders, raising the now-burning shield above his head. As the svartdverger landed, he brought the edge of the shield down like an axe on the back of her neck. The metal bit deep, and the troll collapsed to the ground, dark blood oozing from the wound that had nearly decapitated her.

The others approached, Einarr and Sivid still catching their breath, as Jorir stepped down from the she-troll’s back.

“Nicely done.” Einarr patted his liege-man on the shoulder. “How’d you get it to work?”

“Desperation’s all I can figure. We should be getting on, now that the beast…”

The beast was no longer a beast. Where just moments before had lain a slain she-troll was now a flaxen-haired woman in soiled velvets.

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