THE DAY AFTER OUR MEETING with Ditra, Gatak finally returned to the other trolls.
She strode into the pack’s midst soon after dawn, the sun just cresting the eastern horizon and shining on her back. The smaller trolls roaming around the edges of the pack saw her first. They went stock still, staring in wonder as she approached. Gatak ignored them. Ambling on all fours, she picked her way between the trolls who were still sleeping. The air buzzed with their snores.
Apok stepped into her path.
Gatak was larger than most of the trolls, but Apok dwarfed her. Gatak looked up, betraying no concern. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment.
“You have been gone for many turns of the moons,” said Apok at last.
“Yes,” said Gatak.
“Where have you been?”
“I have traveled far,” said Gatak. “I have seen the end of the mountains. I have seen the eastern sky and the western sea.”
“I think you have been lurking with your human friends,” said Apok.
“They are friends to all of us,” said Gatak. “Their Lord promises many gifts.”
“Chok did not think so,” said Apok.
Gatak showed her teeth. “And where is he?”
Apok’s nostrils flared. But before she could answer, a barking command came from behind her.
“Apok! Enough!”
Dotag strode up, shoving Apok aside when he reached the two of them. For a moment he stood there, looking Gatak up and down, his ears folding back in contentment. Looking around, he found another troll who still slept, his arm curled around a half-eaten loaf of bread. Dotag snatched it away.
“For you,” he said, proffering the loaf.
Gatak growled in pleasure as she took it from him and ate it in a single bite. But she tossed her head as she swallowed the last of it.
“Good,” she said. “But old.”
Dotag’s face fell. “We last attacked the humans five nights ago. We will get more.”
Gatak peered up into his face. “Have you fought many battles? Have you driven them out of the mountains?”
Instead of answering, Dotag looked around at the rest of the pack. “Let us talk alone.”
That earned a stony silence from Gatak, but she followed him as he strode away. They broke into a run as they left the pack, and Dotag thrilled to be running with her again. Soon they came to a broad cliff that climbed straight up the side of a mountain. Dotag roared and plunged his hands into the stone, grabbing handholds and propelling himself upwards. Gatak followed, but quietly.
Half a span up, they came to a wide ledge that almost looked to have been cut into the mountainside. The ground was soft and overgrown with grass, which formed a soft cushion for them to sit down on. Dotag cast himself down, looking out from the cliff over the mountains as they spun away north. Far away—but not too far—he saw the pall of smoke that marked the humans’ city, the one they called Kahaunga.
“We are close now,” he said.
“Close, but not there,” said Gatak. “Tell me what you have done.”
“We have attacked many villages. The humans flee from us. They gather in their city.” He drew a crude map of the pact’s borders in the turf, digging into it with his stubby finger. “This is the pact line. We are here.” He dug a great circle where the pack now resided.
Gatak snorted. “I know where we are. Why have you not attacked the human city?”
Dotag’s ears spread wide and began to quiver with his sullenness. “We have been moving closer,” he said. “The pack was reluctant.”
“When Chok led them,” said Gatak. “You lead now. They will follow you.”
“They do follow me,” said Dotag angrily. He stood and slammed his fists into the ground. His crude drawing was flung to dust.
“How many humans have you killed?”
Dotag almost deflated as she watched. “None,” he said. “The others still do not wish to kill. They say there is no reason to. The humans flee whenever we come.”
“They flee, but then they gather,” snarled Gatak. “And they do not leave the mountains. They infest our land like ticks. They will not flee their city and let you take it. You must kill them. You should have killed many already.”
“We will,” said Dotag. “I will. And then the others will follow me. We will drive the humans out of the mountains. For you.”
That seemed to please Gatak. She pawed the ground. “For the Lord.”
“For you,” Dotag said again. When she let the matter lie, he went to sit beside her again. “You were right. I lead now. The others follow me. And I can mate as I wish.”
Gatak’s ears went up. “When did that ever stop us before?”
That very morning, we had set out into the Greatrocks, seeking the weremage.
It did not go well.
Yearsend was almost upon us, and it was the harshest time of winter. We rode out into the snow and the cold, and snowy and cold we remained, day after day. Our first expedition told us nothing. Any clues to the trolls’ actions or whereabouts was lost to the winds and a fresh snowfall that started the day we rode out.
Rather than return straight to Kahaunga, we traveled east aways, for I remembered another village in that direction, and I guessed that it, too, might have been attacked by the trolls. I was correct, but it did not help us at all. The attack had clearly happened earlier than the first village, and so the clues were even older. The only thing we could tell for sure was that the trolls had stolen every bit of produce and baked goods from both villages, which was in keeping with what we knew of them already.
We returned to Kahaunga in poor spirits—and then our mood was worsened further when we heard the news that Dryleaf had managed to gather in the meantime.
“There have been more attacks,” he said. “Three of them, and all in villages closer to Kahaunga.”
“Dark take me,” I said, clenching my hand to a fist. “We should have come home straightaway.”
“We should have,” said Mag. “But no use worrying about it now.” Though her smile was gentle, it put me ill at ease. She had been treating me gingerly ever since our meeting with Ditra, and I was growing sick of it. I would much rather have had her usual teasing.
“There is more,” said Dryleaf, his expression grim even as he continued to scratch Oku behind the ears. “The trolls have started killing.”
I stared at him, stunned. Mag leaned forwards in her chair.
“How many?” she said.
“Very few,” said Dryleaf. “Still, it marks a change. No matter what, they never killed before. It was too obvious to be anything but deliberate. The word around Kahaunga is that they have given up trying to drive humans away from their lands. The people of the city fear they mean to wipe us out.”
“And where did you hear that?” I said. “You were supposed to remain safe here in our room.”
Dryleaf waved a hand. “One must eat.”
I sighed. “Please do not risk yourself. But as long as you are gathering information, I suppose we should use it. You say not many were killed. How many is not many?”
“Less than a dozen, by all accounts,” said Dryleaf. “And that tells us something, considering that the trolls have driven hundreds out of their homes. The people are frightened, and that is understandable, but I think fear is making them foolish. If the trolls wished to wipe them out, many more would have fallen.”
“It is still too many,” I said.
“Of course,” said Dryleaf, bowing his head. “I do not mean to make light of those who are lost.”
“The ones who died,” said Mag. “Did they try to fight the trolls?”
Dryleaf frowned. “Some, yes. Not others. A few were old and frail, and merely trying to escape. Most were simple farmers or craftsmen, without even a weapon to their name, much less in their hands. But … but there were also children.”
A cold feeling came over me, starting in my gut and making its way up towards my heart. “The trolls have killed children?”
“That is … unclear,” said Dryleaf. “No one has said such a thing. Not exactly. But children have gone missing. And there was one man … I had to ply him with much wine to get him talking, for he was distraught, weeping and rocking back and forth in his chair. But when I finally got him to talk, he told me—and he said as well, mind you, that he had already told others this, but that they had not believed him—but he said the trolls took his children away. Two of them, a son and a daughter. He said that two trolls scooped them up into their great stony paws and carried them off.”
Mag and I looked at each other, and I knew she must be feeling the same terror and disgust that I was. The story was all too familiar to us. Children had also been taken from Northwood when it was attacked.
“As if we needed more proof that the Shades are working with the trolls,” muttered Mag.
We rested in Kahaunga for one night, and then we set out into the mountains again. Now a fresh urgency spurred our steps. We pushed the horses as hard as we dared, riding for the village that had been attacked most recently. When we reached it, we found all the same signs as before—destroyed buildings, raided storehouses empty of produce and goods, huge footprints tracked everywhere. But now, too, there were bodies. When we could, we burned them, for it was too dangerous for the families to travel out so far and do so.
We kept at it for days. For over a week we explored the mountains, ranging ever farther north, seeking for the trolls while also trying to avoid being seen by them. There seemed to be no pattern to their attacks. First they would strike to the west, and then to the east, then farther north, and then so close to Kahaunga that the refugees reached the city on the same day of the attack. Anywhere humans had been foolish enough not to retreat from the wilderness, the trolls found them. They could travel almost straight across the land, while we had to navigate the roads and paths around the peaks and over the cliffs and crevasses. Whenever we found their trail, it would always lead into rocky terrain and vanish, or straight up sheer cliffs where we could not follow. Still, we made some progress. I began to see a pattern in the way the trolls moved. Always their attacks came from the north, and always they retreated to the east. That was some clue, at least.
But I began to notice something else. Sometimes I would get a sense of being watched. It put Mag and me on high alert, for we were certain that the weremage was stalking us again. But I could never catch sight of anyone, Shade or otherwise, and I saw no ravens in the sky. Then we began to find campsites—but small ones, just a trampled-down area and the remains of a fire, hastily hidden.
“The weremage?” said Mag, when we found the second one.
“I do not think so,” I told her. “Why would she leave a campfire? She does not need one.”
“Unless she has been remaining in the wilds for days at a time,” said Mag.
I frowned. “Mayhap. We should stay wary.”
On one of our return trips to Kahaunga, I found a mapmaker and bought a map of the area. I began to plot out where the trolls had struck, and our best guess of where they had run off to. Slowly I began to narrow down the area where I believed we could find them. But the more we searched, and the more I plotted on our map, the more I began to realize something. The noose was tightening. The trolls were massing for an attack. We were hearing reports of dozens of trolls at a time now, swarming from the mountains like an army. The pattern of their attacks seemed to be random, but they were steadily moving in one direction: straight to the heart of Kahaunga.
They were close, and getting closer. And I did not know if Ditra could stand against them. My only hope of helping her was by finding and killing the Shades. And especially the weremage.
Maia frowned. “The two from Opara?”
Ditra scowled at him. They were in her private chamber, and she was slouched in her chair at the head of her table. Maia stood in a position of rest at the other end of it. She had not invited him to sit down. “The Shades,” said Ditra. “I care nothing for the strangers.”
“I have not found them yet,” said Maia. “But I believe I am drawing closer. Then again, so are the strangers.”
“How?” demanded Ditra. “You are my lead ranger. You were born to this land. How are they keeping up with you?”
Maia shrugged, projecting a nonchalance he did not feel. “I do not know, Rangatira. They seem to know the area fairly well. Certainly at least one of them has been here before.”
Ditra found herself troubled by that, though she did not know why, and she did not greatly wish to speculate upon it. “Well, you must avoid them if you can.”
“I have, so far,” said Maia. “It has sometimes been a near thing. But I may not be able to avoid them forever. We are on the same trail, after all, and it is leading us both to the same end.”
“Then you must beat them to it,” said Ditra. “Mayhap you should take others with you.”
“No,” said Maia. “That would only slow me down.”
“You do not seem to be moving particularly fast,” snapped Ditra, slamming down her mug. A bit of ale splashed over the side of it onto the table.
Maia said nothing, but only clasped his hands behind his back.
Ditra gave a disgusted snort and stood, making her way over to the window. She stared out into the sky. Another snow was falling, heavier than it had been in the last few days.
“Find the Shades,” she said. “Before the strangers can. We have to end this before it begins. We cannot engage in an open battle with the trolls.”
“Of course, Rangatira.” Maia bowed and left the room.
Ditra stayed at her window a long while, looking out into the gusts of white flakes.
I cannot let this come to open war, she thought. But she feared it might already be too late.