Shadows Beneath Stone

  O’ children of the Faune, lament. The verdant trail is narrow. The green path long. Slip from the trail but once, and ye may find it nevermore. Lie ye with She in floral pastures of honeysuckle and lilac. Suckle ye from her nourishing teat. Be content in her shade, for her creation is ideal.

  — Excerpt from The Scrolls of the Antlered God

  A Troll’s Vale

  Water trolls are curious creatures. Though bipedal and vaguely humanoid in appearance, such comparisons are deceptive. These sluggish beings possess only the simplest instincts—hunt, fish, drink, survive. Incidents of violence are not uncommon, yet it would be folly to equate instinct with malice. To assign evil to a water troll is to misunderstand its very nature.

  — Dirrik Blersh, The Wondrous Creatures of Alissia, an Appendix

  A large, green-skinned water troll floated lazily at the center of its dark pool.

  The algae-laden water was deep, still, and cool.

  In the distance, a craggy, moss-covered cliff wall—riddled with gnarled, twisting roots—encircled the gorge.

  Behind it, the falls of the Silverfinn River crashed and frothed, their waters racing down the run before spilling into the broad, shadowy basin.

  The troll’s angular ears and wrinkled brow barely crested the surface.

  Its disturbing yellow eyes fixated on a stretch of muddy shoreline—the only one that pierced the otherwise rock-strewn rim.

  There, the carcass of a freshly killed adolescent forest boar lay exposed.

  The troll raised its broad, flat nose from the water and inhaled deeply, testing the air.

  Nothing seemed amiss.

  Graceful in its element, the horrid creature rotated slowly, scanning the heavily treed embankment and the high walls of the gorge above.

  Its massive, webbed hands and feet granted it remarkable agility in the water.

  Its lungs, too, were adapted for long dives. It could remain submerged for impressive spans of time.

  These adaptations, what made it a supreme hunter, were also what made it reluctant to leave its pool.

  Out of the water, it became clumsy. Lumbering.

  It was an ambush predator, one that preferred to drag prey beneath the surface, drown it, then devour it in the depths.

  On dry land, it had to rely on undersized, jagged teeth and large but sluggish claws.

  It did not favor its odds on land.

  But if the prey was already dead...

  With determination, the troll plunged beneath the surface.

  A few strong strokes from its sinewy arms and legs brought it to the edge of the pool’s sudden drop-off, just a dozen feet from the muddy shoreline.

  There, it paused. Hidden below, it studied the carcass.

  Its stomach growled.

  The sound was muffled and distorted by the water, but the timely rumble spurred it into action.

  Rising slowly, the troll inched upward until its bald head nearly broke the surface.

  Its broad, flat nose crested first, drawing deeply on the humid air.

  Nothing.

  Perhaps it was safe.

  Deliberately, it edged farther upward, pulling itself onto the mud-covered shelf.

  It did not commit to the carcass hastily, keeping one ungainly leg hanging in the drop-off, ready to retreat if needed.

  It sniffed again.

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  The metallic tinge of blood oozing from the carcass was stronger now.

  Its stomach gurgled, impatient and loud, demanding action, dismissing caution.

  The troll hissed menacingly, its piercing yellow gaze locked onto the unexpected bounty.

  Still conflicted, the beast shuffled forward.

  Its sinewy arm clamped down around the boar’s forelimb, and with one smooth heave, it slung the two-hundred-pound carcass over its shoulder without a grunt.

  Testing the weight, the troll eyed the woods warily.

  Then, it turned to the pool, prize in hand, and began its lurching return.

  But suddenly, it stopped.

  Its wiry frame stiffened.

  Its ghastly yellow eyes crossed in confusion, staring at the smooth wooden shaft now protruding between them.

  With an audible hiss, the beast breathed its last and toppled backward, quite dead.

  The deed finished, Portean emerged from his camouflaged perch high on the gorge wall above the troll’s dark pond.

  He had been there all morning—unseen, unmoving—waiting for the creature to crawl from its watery lair.

  He had to admit: it hadn’t been quite as stupid as he expected.

  It hadn’t made a beeline for the carcass, as he'd hoped.

  Instead, it had lingered. Cautious. Wary.

  So Portean had waited, cold and wet, nestled in a sharp nook between two moss-covered boulders.

  Now, finally, he stretched his stiff limbs, grateful the wait was over.

  “Fine shot!” Aehyl called up, waving enthusiastically in a wide arc.

  She approached the dead troll cautiously, as though it might suddenly lurch up and toss her over its shoulder like the boar.

  The closer she came, the more her stomach turned.

  A rancid stench, rotting fish and damp algae, assaulted her nostrils.

  The troll lay face-down, its large, spiked dorsal crest still flexing spasmodically in death.

  A puddle of greenish, algae-laced drool pooled beneath its slack jaw.

  She shuddered.

  “Not much of a looker, is he?” Portean muttered, wrinkling his nose as he approached.

  “Gah—the smell…” He trailed off in disgust, deciding it was best not to retrieve his arrow.

  “Living in water, you'd think it wouldn’t stink so badly,” Aehyl said, pinching her nose.

  Then, scanning the narrow beach, she frowned. “And how did they get a beast this size so deep into the forest?”

  She looked for wagon tracks but stopped herself, she knew no roads led this far in.

  “Maybe they brought it in by water,” Portean offered, though his tone betrayed doubt.

  “There must be at least a dozen falls before this one,” he added, shaking his head. “It’s madness.”

  “Well, it’s dead, and I can’t say I feel sorry about it,” Aehyl muttered, jaw clenched.

  “There’s no telling how much damage it might’ve done.” Her thoughts turned to the dying tree. “By Faune, these elves have much to answer for.”

  Portean turned from the carcass and stared out over the dark water with visible distaste.

  He hated not knowing whether more creatures lurked beneath the surface. The idea of diving into a troll’s lair, mere moments after killing it, made his skin crawl.

  Still, they had come for answers, and this was their only lead.

  “Ready for a swim?” he asked, masking his revulsion as best he could.

  Aehyl nodded hesitantly, offering a thin smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  Portean cast his bow a longing glance, then set it—along with his quiver—into a hollow nook where it would stay dry until their return.

  They stripped quickly, stuffing their clothes into their packs.

  Awkwardly avoiding each other’s gaze, they slung weapons and bags over their shoulders and stepped toward the water’s edge.

  Aehyl began murmuring a spell under her breath.

  “Lok’lok mo’el arowyen, lok’lok mo’el aroturowyen.”

  As the words left her lips, a thin, misty bubble shimmered into being around them.

  She fed the enchantment a trickle of energy, light at first, but like holding one’s breath, the drain would grow taxing with time.

  As the charm stabilized, the world around them blurred, distorted like an image seen through rippling glass. Then, without a word, they dove in.

  The spell allowed them to see clearly beneath the surface, though the water remained dark.

  While the current surged around them, they could breathe as naturally as they did above the surface.

  Aehyl stretched her left hand downward into the gloom.

  “Elem’eloak,” she whispered, the words garbled and warped by the water.

  A pulse of white light burst from her palm, illuminating the deep in a wide, shimmering sphere.

  She nodded toward Portean and gestured for him to lead. He didn’t hesitate.

  He knew they would have to move quickly, she couldn’t hold both spells for long.

  Seaweed rose from the trench floor in thick swathes, disguising the contours of the ravine and hiding its bottom.

  Fish scattered from the light, darting between the reaching fronds, wary of the intruders.

  A small turtle drifted lazily between the two elves, flapping a fin at them in mild curiosity before following the fish back into the dark echoes of the pond.

  They moved through the murk methodically, searching for an opening, aware that they couldn’t tarry.

  Several minutes passed before Portean pointed to a narrow gap in the gorge wall near the far side of the pond. He motioned for Aehyl to surface.

  She nodded and let the wishwater charm fall away. Relief flooded through her as the spell’s steady drain vanished, leaving behind a dull fatigue but also a quiet satisfaction. She realized the light enchantment was still active and dismissed it as well.

  Beside her, Portean treaded water effortlessly. He waited a moment before speaking, giving her time to recover.

  The water was cool and revitalizing under the sun, and it didn’t take long before Aehyl steadied her breath.

  “Careful,” the ranger called out, raising his voice above the rushing din of the nearby falls. “We don’t know what’s guarding the gap, or how far the swim goes.”

  “Should I recast the wishwater enchantment?” Aehyl asked, uncertain. They were both strong swimmers, but the thought of entering a submerged tunnel while already breathless unsettled her.

  “No,” Portean replied quickly. “Too risky. I need you ready if there’s trouble on the other side. Another round of that charm would drain you too much. Just give us enough light so we don’t waste time fumbling in the dark for the entrance.”

  Aehyl nodded solemnly, and together they plunged beneath the dark surface of the pool.

  A moment later, a globe of light bloomed in her left hand, pushing back the encroaching gloom.

  They swam downward, the pressure of the water mounting with every stroke.

  The gap in the rock was wide enough to admit them side by side, and it sloped gently upward.

  After a tense, breathless moment, they reached a rocky shelf where the water’s surface broke abruptly ahead, still and black.

  They surfaced into a narrow, broken chamber.

  The air was thick with the stench of decay.

  The cave floor, wet and uneven, was littered with fish bones and other grisly debris, but no life stirred.

  On a ledge above the pool’s entrance, a musty nest of rotting seaweed, mud, and interwoven shells sat abandoned.

  Several dozen paces ahead, a single, hollow shaft receded into the dark.

  Aehyl’s light illuminated the immediate chamber but faded quickly, unable to pierce the deeper corridor.