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Comes a Dark Heir-A more Awesome Trailer

Comes a Dark Heir

Here we have a nice teaser for the upcoming Aeonith  novel, Comes a Dark Heir. There will be more to follow, but please enjoy this first one, and don't forget to visit Aeonith.webs.com for more Aeonith lore!

From the original prologue of Dark Heir

Quick feet make for a quick getaway. Many a daring escape had been managed by adhering to those words of wisdom. Whether he was stealing dried beef for an evening's meal or running from the city watch, the young man's quick feet had served him well indeed.

Quick feet was only one of the many lessons he'd learned from Makor, the older boy who'd taught him everything he knew about living on the streets. Makor was also the only friend young Joslin had ever known. Most of the other orphaned children on the streets tended to look out only for themselves, unless they worked for one of those awful dark lords, and then they were much, much worse. Those kids were always especially mean, and cruel.

Makor had warned Jos to stay away from those kids no matter what, and never, ever get involved with any of their business. For some reason that Joslin had never fathomed, only older children worked for the dark lords of the city, and mostly boys at that. Within the dark hovels and sewers that orphaned and unwanted children made their homes, tales were told of younger kids who had taken a simple job from one of these teenage agents, and were never seen again. Jos had seen enough of that for himself to know that it was true.

Makor had provided his young protégé with many other nuggets of street-wisdom. He'd shown Jos which vendors could be robbed easily, and which ones had the ear of the city watch and the Coin Lords. Those merchants were off-limits. Stealing from them could, and often would, lead to a young boy with one less hand, or leg. A one-legged boy can only run half as fast, the men would laugh.

Makor had shown Jos where the best places to beg within the vast city, and which places to avoid. Any place where the people were tall, thin and had long, pointed ears was to be carefully avoided. The Drae’gar were stingy with their coin, and didn't seem to like humans very much anyway, and young beggar children even less. A steel boot was a more likely gift than a silver kiit from the haughty elves.

Joslin began to feel sad as he quickly and gracefully made his way through the crowded marketplace. Makor had been gone for nearly a year now, and he sorely missed the only friend he'd ever had.

But there was no time for sentiment now. Today was a great day, Jos finally had a task that was easy, paid well, and didn't require a single bit of law-breaking. Not that it would have made much difference. If the city watch caught sight of him, they'd probably arrest him anyway, for that whole roast pig he'd stolen two days ago. Jos decided not to go near that merchant for several weeks.

It was mid-morn, and the Unwashed Plaza, as the Drae’gar's called it, was fairly teeming with people. The Drae’gar called most everyone not themselves unwashed or unclean, or just uncivilized. Jos had wondered why they let humans into their city if they detested them so much. Makor had explained it to him one cold winter evening, over a roast duck they'd just pilfered. The Drae’gar loved money more than anything, and every merchant who sold his goods in the city paid the elves to stay there. And because Slyth-Mnir was a great sprawling city on the coast, all manner of goods came flowing in here and that meant trade. Men, it seemed, had a great appetite for Drae’gar goods, as well as whatever exotic items came in from across the sea. And so, the human presence was tolerated, or so Makor had told him.

Joslin's quickness served him well as he made his way through the mass of people. So many pockets lined with gold, he had to resist the temptation to reach into one or two of those pockets and help himself. That would chance him getting caught, leaving him in the city dungeons and without his promised coins. So far Joslin had managed to stay out of the dungeons, a winning streak he was none too eager to break.

The crowd was thick that morning, an occurrence that only happened when a ship had docked the night before. Ships had been arriving with less frequency lately, a circumstance no one had bothered to explain to the young street urchin who now made his way among the gathered throng.

Joslin's destination was the Blade and Red Bed, an inn in the outskirts of the Plaza. The Blade had a notorious reputation, and it was well known that the current name of this establishment was not the original one. Jos slowed his steps as he neared the old inn-house.

Two large and quite intimidating men stood near the small, swinging doors that gave entrance to the smoky interior. Wicked smiles slowly spread across their features. Hooligans, Jos thought. Self-appointed guardians of the shadier places in the city, at least when the city watch weren't around. No one dared ire the Slyth-Swords, as the watch was known. Drae’gar were not only exceedingly greedy, but they were also quite deadly in hand-to-hand combat. And elves made up the entirety of the grand city's law-keepers. But Jos was no elf, merely a small boy. He slowed his steps as he approached the tavern. The men grinned wickedly at him, saying nothing for a long moment.

“Well, well, what we got here?” The large man on the left said, at last. Although both men were dirty, dingy and grimy, this one seemed to be the worse of the two, and he stank of urine and wine.

“Why we got us a little rat-boy here. You’re in the wrong part of town, rat-boy. Better move on before someone ruins a good steel blade on your sorry hide.” 

The other man stunk of urine too, and something much worse than ale. What it might be Joslin didn't know, and didn't want to find out?

Ordinarily, Jos would have taken the man's advice without question, and scurried away. But today he had some honest coin to make. Fortunately for him, Joslin's employer had given the young man a kind of password for just such an occasion. Jos took a deep breath, and puffed himself up as best a nine year old boy could.

“I'm on Coin business, so you'd best step out of the way.”

The two Hooligans glanced at each other warily at the young boy's statement.

“You ain't got no Coin business boy,” the bigger one replied, “Now get on outta here 'fore I cut out your lyin' tongue.”

Jos considered the man's threat for a moment. It was not idle, he knew, but Jos was desperate for his payment.

“I've business with a party of five in the inn. If they don't get their message, then you can tell the Coin Lords why.”

The smelly men looked at each other again. Jos was young, but he was quite intelligent for his age. He knew hesitation on a man's face when he saw it.

“You give us the message, rat-boy,” the smaller smelly man said, “and we'll be sure they get it.”

Jos stood his ground, saying nothing. He locked his eyes on the smaller man, trying to look fierce. Inside, Joslin had never been more frightened. The Hooligans were known for short tempers, and they had killed many a man in their day, and who knew how many street children. But if Jos gave in now, he knew he'd never get paid. These two probably didn't own a coin between them anyway. His body was never tenser than in the next few seconds, as he awaited the men's response.

It came soon, in the form of a fist. The smaller man swung wide and stuck Jos solidly with the back of his hand. Jos flew back, his legs struggling to keep his balance, which he nearly lost. But somehow the young boy managed to stay upright. When he'd caught himself, Jos returned to his place in front of the two Hooligans, looking them squarely in the eyes. After a moment, that seemed like an eternity, the men parted just enough to let a nine year old boy pass between them. Joslin's body was still tense as he put one foot in front of the other. He dared not look up, but simply concentrated on moving forward. Suddenly, he was in the tavern.

Although this was not Joslin's first visit to one of the cities many fine drinking establishments, it was the first time he'd been in one for longer than a few seconds. Sometimes, on a dare from some of the other street kids, he'd sneak in to steal something from one of the drunker patrons. Sneaking in through a window or a backdoor was a lot different than walking in the front, he thought. The inn was large, loud, and smoky. Strange smells assaulted his senses the second he stepped past the swinging doors. The Blade was large; it had to be to accommodate the large number of outsiders to the Drae’gar city. Even so nearly every table was full, and the stools along the bar held no vacancies at all.

It was the tables that Jos concentrated on as he made his way inside. Five people sitting together was his target, one of them would be a woman. He found them at a table near the far wall. Using his quick reflexes, Jos managed to wind his way quickly between the standing patrons and the bar-wenches carrying drinks of all kinds across the inn. Soon he was standing near the table, almost at the side of the man who seemed the tallest. This was his target, and the man to whom the message was to be delivered. Jos reached slowly into his shirt, just as the man noticed him. As he watched, Jos pulled a small rolled-up parchment from within his shirt. He raised his hand slowly, offering it to the big man.

“From the Coin Lords, sir.”

The big man took the parchment from Joslin's hand. Jos and the others at the table watched as the big man unrolled the paper. Suddenly, the big man seemed to notice that Jos was still standing there. He turned his head to give Jos a stone cold stare that could have frozen his blood. This man's gaze was ten times worse than anything the Hooligans' could have ever given him. All he wanted to do was run, but he couldn't. He had to get paid, he just had too. A feminine voice came resounding over the din of the inn patron's voices to break the stalemate.

“Pay him, Mikks. Don't be a jerk.”

The big man turned his gaze toward the source of the feminine voice that had so courteously put him in his place. A long silence fell between the two adults as Jos stood by, waiting. Please give me my payment. A sudden movement off to his right caught Joslin's eye. A bald man, who was sitting next to the big man, was holding out his hand. Jos held out his own. The bald man's hand opened, and out fell six gold coins. Jos' hands closed around them the very instant they touched his skin. He nodded a quick thank you to the bald man, and then turned and shot out of the room, using the same grace and quickness that Makor had taught him years ago.

As he fled the great Blade and Red Bed Inn, Jos heard the sound of a chair scraping against a wooden floor, and a deep voice seemed to rise for a moment above the others in the room.

“We ride.”

She Walks in Darkness (The Ballad of Naeid Firestorm)

She Walks in Darkness

(The Ballad of Naeid Firestorm)

Under the light

Of a forgotten moon

Here dwells a tale

Of woe and doom

Of warriors brave

And maidens fair

Of darkest death

And the crown he wears

Sharp of eyes, fierce of sight

She walks in darkness like the night

She was alone

Among those men of old

Her sword named for

The dwarven hero cold

Astride her mare

On wings of black

She kissed her bear

And ne'er looked back

Blade of steel, heart of ice

She walks in darkness like the night

That night of doom

The sky was black and bare

The moon was rising

Pale light to share

She needs no sign

To see her foe

His flames leapt high

From his fire below

Black of hair, enemy of fright

She rides in darkness like the night

Above the clouds

The enemy flies

She’ll meet his flames

Even if she dies

A lance of silver

Shining bright

Flashing death

Against the night

She fears not death, its humbling light

She bathes in darkness like the night

A breath of fire

That lights the sky

A waltz of doom

The song is nigh

Her aim unspoiled

Her strike is true

The dragon’s reckoning

Has now come due

Her battle is true, her sword is right

She revels in darkness like the night

The demon’s vengeance

Comes swift as well

His claws held tight

And down they fell

She will not cry

She will not bend

Her life she gives

For terror’s end

O Naeid Firestorm, warrior of light

You lie in darkness like the night

The Hunter in Black - The Fairy

     The dark green canopy above seemed to press down as the Hunter pressed further on into the deep forest. The aroma of dank earth churned by his companion’s speeding hooves rose to meet him. Stout limbs on thick trees thousands of years old reached out to slow their progress. But he pressed on, his sure-footed companion never faltering for a moment despite the rocks and roots that littered the forest floor.

     His quarry had continued its path to the east. It must know it was being hunted now, if ever any doubt had existed. But did it know who was pursuing it? Unlikely, the Hunter thought. And that was his advantage.

     The forest grew even thicker as the Hunter pressed on, until even his agile companion had to slow to a walk. The trees seemed to close in around them. Light from the setting sun barely penetrated the thick layer of limbs and leaves above them.

     Then suddenly, without warning or explanation, the Hunter’s quarry disappeared from his sight.

     The Destroyer of worlds had been miles away, but the Hunter had been watching him clearly, his farsight giving him a clear image of his quarry. And then suddenly it was gone, as though someone had thrown a black sheet over the Hunter’s deep-seeing eyes.

     The Hunter peered around nearby trees to no avail. He tried backtracking, and still his quarry failed to appear on the distant horizon. His companion stopped entirely as the two contemplated the situation.

     “Indeed.” The Hunter exclaimed to the forest. “The Destroyer’s power is imminent, yet it cannot disappear from our sight. There must be something else involved here. Perhaps we should just press on; we know where he was when we lost sight of him.”

     The Hunter was listening to his companion’s wisdom in his mind when something caught his attention. Off to his left the Hunter saw a dull green glow, dancing among the trees. The Hunter and his companion watched as the light flickered up and down, hid behind one tree then danced before another. In some deep part of his mind, the Hunter knew the light was some kind of living creature, and that its dance of light was calling to him.

     “No,” the Hunter replied to a silent question, “I do not think it is coincidence either. But I sense no danger here.”

     His riding companion, Stalia, gently reminded him mentally that he hadn’t sensed any danger in the small village just a few days earlier either.

     “Perhaps,” he replied flatly, trying to keep any emotion from his voice even though he knew full well she could read his mind anyway, “but my instincts tell me we should pursue this avenue. If it turns out to be an ill turn, we’ll continue on our way.”

     Stalia’s silent reply did little to turn the Hunter from his intended course. At last, she began slowly trotting through the dense trees toward the dancing wisp of light.

     Their trail led them through what seemed to be the darkest part of the forest. Though the sun should have still been in the sky, not a single ray of its light penetrated the thick leaves of great oaks and stout maples that grew just a few feet apart. The wisp of light seemed to mock them as it danced just a few feet away, leading them deeper and deeper into the unknown.

     Ahead, a sickly green glow suddenly appeared, illuminating the foliage in a haunting light. The dancing wisp suddenly shot toward the light, bending around the trees and out of sight. The Hunter and his companion continued cautiously forward.

     Around a huge oak nearly as wide as the Hunter was tall, an old shack emerged bathed in the ill green light. The glow seemed not to come from the house itself, but from near and over it, as though the light source itself was looking into the dwelling. A small yard spread out in front of the house, bright green grass growing in contrast to the dull, haunting color of everything else surrounding the old home. Moss hung from the rooftop, tendrils reaching down at the sides and all four corners in a desperate yet futile attempt to reach the ground. A babbling brook ran through the yard near where the forest stopped and the grass began.

     The Hunter’s companion stepped carefully over the tiny river, as if its water was somehow detrimental. Both of them knew that was rather unnecessary, no poison of this world could harm either of them, at least none that they knew of.

     The Hunter sat in his riding position atop his mount. Seconds passed on into minutes. The Hunter responded to an unasked question.

     “It would be rude to just walk in uninvited.”

     Another silence passed, but the Hunter heard his beloved’s response clearly. As if in answer to his statement, a voice emerged from within the decrepit old hut.

     “Well, are you going to make an old woman wait forever?”

     Though cracked and worn, the strange voice held a strong conviction. The Hunter smiled briefly as he dismounted. After gazing longingly into his beloved’s eyes, the Hunter approached the decaying door of the old moss house.

      The door swung in easily enough. The inside of the mossy dwelling appeared much as the outside. Dirt and grime covered everything within the small house. A one room shack, it seemed, with little in the way of furnishings. The Hunter had to stoop to avoid touching the ceiling. Not so for the sole occupant.

      An old woman sat in an ancient chair, eyeing him with great suspicion. Her look demanded to know what he was doing in her house, though he was sure she was the one who’d proclaimed his tardiness. Her clothes were as old as her wrinkled face, and as green as the forest that surrounded her home. But not as green as the color of her skin.

     The old woman had the color of jade, with none of the sheen one might find on a precious jewel. The green in her eyes matched the lighter color of the rags draping her body. The Hunter thought for a mere flash of a second he caught the look in those eyes changing, but it was gone before he could determine what, if anything, it meant.

     “And what does one of your kind think he’s doing trespassing in my part of the forest?”

     The Hunter raised a curious eyebrow at the old woman. Her voice was old, faded, crackling, yet it held a kind of understated power or authority. He sensed a growing power within her as well.

     “By my kind, do you mean…”

     “You know exactly what I mean, trespasser.” The old woman interrupted. “You who do not belong here and never did. You who brought ruin upon us all. But it didn’t turn out quite like you expected, did it my pretty? Our power was quite a bit more formidable than you imagined, ey?”

     The old woman kept the Hunter locked in his place with her stare. He had answers for her, explanations that should have soothed over any of the misunderstandings this woman obviously held about him and his mission. But she was not ready to hear them.

     “I am a power in my own right,” the old woman exclaimed, “do not doubt that for a minute, shishar! Outside these trees I may have little value, but within these walls I have the right, make no mistake. And if I don’t like your answers, you’ll not be leaving these trees, I should think.”

     Not since his arrival in this world had the Hunter been challenged thus. And certainly not by anyone who seemed as close to death as this poor old human. But his instincts, which he’d come to trust over the many long years, told him she spoke the truth. After weighing his words carefully, the Hunter answered.

     “I would never insult you by pretending to be anything else than what I am.”

     “Ha,” the old woman interrupted in a spat, “your presence is insulting, to me and everyone else. You do not belong here. So what is your business, ey? Are you a poor lost soul now, cut off from your friends?” The old woman seemed delighted at the prospect.

     “No, my allies are as close as they need to be. I do not mean to trespass. I am here to collect someone who also does not belong here. As soon as I have done that, I shall be on my way.”

     The Hunter paused to let the old woman measure the truth of his words. She studied him for a long moment. At last, the moss-woman softened her look, slightly.

     “Then you’d best be quick, my boy. You aren’t the only one chasing this quarry of yours. And your competition is ahead of you, I think.”

     This took the Hunter completely by surprise. What was she talking about? No one else had been dispatched to retrieve the Destroyer, of this he was sure.

     “To whom do you refer? I assure you no one else pursues my quarry.”

     The old woman burst out in a laugh, a chilling cackle that shook the Hunter deep inside where nothing should have been able to reach him. The Hunter took a step back, marveling at the power of this feeble-seeming old woman.

     “Ever the downfall of your kind, Hunter, and all those who call themselves powerful. Because you have ability, because you have skill, or authority, or knowledge that nothing can be as you deign otherwise. Foolish my boy, very foolish.”

     The old woman’s sudden geniality vanished as suddenly as it appeared.

     “I wish you godspeed on your quest, my boy. Truly I do. For if you fail I foresee a grave future ahead, one in which the past rises from the ashes of history to finish the job it started. So hurry now, and let nothing else delay you. Or it may be the ruin of us all.”

     The old moss-woman waved her hand in a flourish, and suddenly the Hunter was standing just outside the mossy hut. The ill-green light seemed to fade around him, until even his sharp eyes could barely see the old house in front of him.

     On a whim, the Hunter tried to open the door again, but found it shut tight. He turned to his companion, climbing on to her back in a pensive mood she did not miss. He mentally explained all the old woman had told him. Stalia turned, made her way carefully over the brook, and together the pair again made their way east in the direction they had last seen the Destroyer.

     “Who could she have meant?” The Hunter asked aloud. “If anyone else had been sent we’d have known, we would have felt their presence here. Who would…?”

      The Hunter trailed off as Stalia mentally offered a plausible explanation. The Hunter’s expression suddenly bore a heavy trepidation.

     “Oh no.”

The Hunter in Black: The Visit

The Hunter in Black: The Visit

Dark hooves churned the earth as horse and rider closed the long distance between themselves and their quarry. The gap was still considerable, but not insurmountable, and they were gaining. The hunter’s eyes pierced the distance for miles ahead.

He could not see the Destroyer, but he could feel it. And he could sense its fear. After its long years of captivity, the bane of all humanity on Aeonith would not want to be caught again. The hunter knew the creature would kill everyone and everything on Aeonith to stay free. He could not let that happen, not again.

The sun disappeared behind the tall trees of a small forest. The failing light of dusk cast the woods in an eerie red glow. Trees on either side of the road seemed to close in, as if trying to bar the way forward. There were not enough trees in all of Aeonith to deter the hunter. His black cloak swirled behind him as his mount surged forward. She sensed his urgency, and shared it as well.

The moon’s pale illumination made the night seem even more ominous. The atmosphere had little effect on the hunter; he was himself a creature of the night. His friend slowed their progress, however, and the hunter began to sense in her a growing trepidation. A small grin formed on his lips, though he knew she’d be unable to see it from her vantage point.

“Not getting scared, are we?” The hunter asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and having little luck. Silence filled the air, but the hunter heard her answer clearly. He laughed out loud, hardily and gregariously. “Fair enough.” He answered to the night.

Stallia slowed her gait to a halt. A narrow wooden bridge suddenly appeared in the moonlight across a wide chasm. The wood looked incredibly old, the planks and rails covered with long cracks and dark spots that seemed filled with age and rot. The bridge looked wobbly and unstable, yet this was their path. It was far too wide for even Stallia to jump across. The hunter regarded the crossing for a moment longer before urging his friend forward.

As Stallia began toward the rickety bridge, a low rustling sound suddenly emerged from underneath. The hunter’s friend halted as a dark shape loomed large in the night before them from beneath the old bridge. The figure was tall and wide, and the hunter marveled at the sight of this strange creature as the moonlight displayed its features.

It was vaguely man-shaped, a head, arms and legs ending in something resembling hands and feet. The similarities ended there, however. The creature was well over man-sized at nearly eight feet or more. Green mottled skin covered its body in a sickly membrane that made it appear diseased all over. Large, black eyes peered out above a long, pointed nose. The arms and legs of this gangly creature appeared weak, but the hunter knew better. The trolls of Aeonith were known to be fearsome creatures indeed.

“Well, well, what have we here, ey? Someone about to cross my bridge? They’ll have to pay the toll, they will. So, how much gold are my customers paying for crossing my bridge ey?”

The hunter studied the troll for a moment, wondering if the creature was being facetious, or was actually allowing him to determine the charge.

“I’m sorry, good sir, but we carry no coin of this world. If we cannot cross without payment, I suppose we must find another way. Good night to you.”

“Wait!” The troll responded loudly, taking both the hunter and his friend off-guard. The hunter suddenly hoped he was not about to need his weapon. “Wait, please. I’m sorry if I startled you. I don’t see other people very often. I didn’t mean to frighten you. If you need to cross the bridge, go ahead, I won’t stop you. But I would ask for something, if you don’t mind. It won’t  cost you anything but time.”

The hunter felt it unnecessary to inform the troll he hadn’t actually frightened them at all. The troll’s sudden change from belligerent to concession did cause the hunter some small concern. He was intrigued as well, by both the troll’s offer and the creature’s new tone of voice.

“And what would you ask of us, my friend?” The hunter asked.

“Come to my house, for a short visit. Just a few moments of your time.”

The troll’s expression had gone from harassing to nearly forlorn. His black eyes were narrow and piercing when he first jumped out from beneath the bridge, but now were soft and pleading. The creature’s intelligence also seemed unusual for its kind. Though the hunter would have to admit he’d met few of the creature’s kin in his time on Aeonith, those he had encountered seemed more interested in clubbing him and eating his bones than engaging him in conversation. This troll was an enigma indeed.

“Very well.” The hunter answered after a moment of deliberation. “Though we have very few moments to spare.”

The troll’s expression changed immediately, from gloomy to cheerful in a matter of a second. His smile was somewhat disconcerting, not from any particular malevolence, but merely because it seemed so out of place on the large, green-skinned monster.

“Oh, wonderful. My home is not far at all. Please, come this way.”

The troll motioned into the forest and immediately set off into the woods.

The hunter regarded the troll curiously.

“Yes, he is a rather strange individual.” The hunter remarked, to seemingly no one in particular.

The hunter and his constant companion followed the troll deep into the small forest. The creature seemed to know its way instinctively. The hunter was also surprised at how light on its feet the troll seemed to be. One might expect such a large creature to lumber through the forest knocking things down and making all kinds of noise. Yet this monster walked almost delicately, taking great care to watch its steps.

At last the procession came to small house nestled between two huge trees. Again the hunter was surprised. The yard outside the home was relatively free of debris, and a small path led to the tall doorway that would be just tall enough to allow the creature entrance. The house was constructed of well-made wooden planks put together in neat fashion. The roof appeared to be made of large oak branches cut to match one another and laid side by side. The troll opened the door, turning back to wave the hunter inside.

The black-clad hunter slid off his friend, patting her head gently.

“I’ll admit, he’s got my curiosity raised. Don’t worry, we won’t be long.”

The hunter smiled to his companion and disappeared into the troll’s home.

The inside of the dwelling was as surprisingly neat as the outside. Furnishings were sparse, yet those appointments were obviously well-kept. A careful look about the front room of the dwelling showed nothing out of the ordinary, until the hunter noticed a small bookcase near one wall. Books were the last thing the hunter would have thought to find in a troll’s house. The troll suddenly appeared from behind a doorway.

“Would you like something to eat, or drink?”

“No, thank you.” The hunter replied politely.

“Very well. Please sit down a moment.” The troll motioned to one of two tall chairs nearby. The hunter sat down and suddenly felt silly. The huge chair dwarfed him, making the hunter feel as though he might be a child who’d just sat down in his father’s chair. The troll sat opposite the hunter, smiling brightly.

“So,” the troll began, “what brings you to these woods? Not many pass through here these days.”

The hunter suddenly sensed an ulterior motive from his host. The frightening thought that his quarry had affected this creature in a manner similar to the villagers from Ostracar leapt into his mind. He hadn’t detected the villager’s hostility, a fact that still concerned him greatly.

“Just passing through, really.” The hunter answered warily. “I’m curious, did you build this house yourself?”

“Yes I did, actually.” The troll replied with a proud smile. “One of my finer accomplishment’s I think. Built this furniture as well. Took a lot of time, but I think it was well worth the effort.”

“Indeed it was,” the hunter replied, “Both have quite fine workmanship.”

The hunter waited awkwardly for the troll to continue their conversation. The creature did little more than regard him with his bright smile.

“Have you always lived in this forest?” The hunter asked at last.

“Oh yes, it’s a wonderful place. It does get lonely sometimes, though. No one else around, you know. And there isn’t likely to be either, seems no one wants to live near a troll.”

The hunter felt a pang of grief at the troll’s loneliness. This creature was quite different than most of its kin, and seemed highly intelligent.

“Perhaps if you didn’t jump out at strangers from beneath bridges.” The hunter smiled, hoping the troll would understand he was merely joking.

The troll smiled back, a small, desolate grin that bespoke of his true feelings.

“Yes, I can be somewhat, forward, I guess. It’s in my nature, I suppose. I do my best not to be intimidating, but it seems I fail more often than I succeed. Being eight feet tall and green doesn’t seem to help either. But you don’t seem scared or nervous at all. May I ask why?”

Careful here, the hunter thought. Was it truly the creature asking, or was he being influenced by something else?

“You’re not as frightening as you seem to think you are.” The hunter replied. “In addition to not surprising your guests, might I suggest you engage them in conversation a few moments.”

The troll leaned toward the hunter at that, listening intently. It seemed they may have arrived at the troll’s purpose.

“What else can I do? Please, anything that could help?”

The hunter’s concern about the possibility that the destroyer had influenced his host began to fall away. The troll seemed genuinely concerned about the hunter’s advice. The hunter, however, had run out of friendly advice: he wasn’t exactly an expert on human welcoming rituals. He was merely relating what he’d seen others do.

“Just be kind and courteous, and the rest will come with time. Be patient. In my experience humans change their opinions very slowly, so it will take time for them to accept that you’re different from your more uncouth brethren.”

The troll lifted an eyebrow at the hunter. Apparently he hadn’t missed the hunter’s referral to human beings as if he were not one himself. The troll seemed ready to expound on that discovery, but let it go instead.

“Okay, I’ll try.” The troll paused a moment, then tried to change the subject. “So, where are you two heading, if I may ask?”

The hunter hesitated in his response, gauging again whether this poor creature was under the influence of the hunter’s adversary.

“We’re on our way east. Where, I cannot say. I am sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” The troll responded thoughtfully. “No problem. You look like you might be on a secret mission, black clothes and all. And there’s something else about you too, something I can’t quite put my finger on…” The troll faded out as he stared right through the hunter, suddenly lost in thought. The hunter brought him back quickly.

“Thank you very much for your hospitality, but we really must be going now.” The hunter slowly stood up. The troll’s expression immediately changed, anxiety replacing contentment.

“Must you?” the troll replied hesitantly. “Very well, I won’t keep you in any longer.”

The hunter smiled, bowling slightly to his new companion. The troll suddenly leapt forward as the hunter turned to leave, holding tightly onto his black-clad shoulder.

“Wait. Don’t leave just yet. I would like to offer you a gift, for stopping by and for your helpful advice.”

“That isn’t necessary.” The hunter replied. “I was quite glad for the respite.”

“It is necessary. Maybe it’s just me trying too hard to be friendly, but it would mean so much if you would accept my offer.”

The hunter smiled even wider at the troll’s attempt to be courteous. He was tempted just then to tell the troll who he really was, and in that light gifts were not necessary. The hunter stopped short, however. There was no need in putting this hospitable creature further in harm’s way by giving him information that might come back to haunt him someday.

“Very well, my friend. I shall gladly accept your gift.”

The troll veritably beamed happiness at that, his smile spreading from ear to ear. The lumbering creature walked over to a large chest near the far wall. After rummaging through its mysterious contents for a moment, the troll suddenly withdrew a small oak twig. He stood and offered it to the hunter, still beaming his grateful smile.

“Here it is, take it with my compliments.” The troll began. “I know it’s just a twig, but it’s magical. It glows white every full moon. I have no idea why, and it doesn’t seem to be good for anything, but it looks pretty when it glows. I take it out on full moons, actually. But, now I want you to have it. Maybe it can light your way on some dark night when the full moon is out.” The troll paused a moment, shaking his head at his own foolishness. “Except that the night isn’t that dark when the moon is full, is it?” The troll laughed at that, then continued. “Oh well, it’s yours. Thank you again for everything, for taking time with me and your helpful advice. I’ll take it to heart. If you happen to come this way again sometime, please feel free to stop by.”

The hunter took the gift his host offered, and returned the creature’s exaggerated grin.

“Indeed I shall, my friend.”

The hunter bowed again as the troll moved to open the door for his guest. Evening was giving way to night, and the hunter still had much ground to cover. He leapt up on his friend’s back, looking down at his host in parting.

“Thank you again for your hospitality.”

“No thank you, good sir.” The troll replied. “You’ve brought me much joy, and for that I am most grateful. Please take care, and remember to stop by if you’re in this neck of the woods.”

“I shall indeed.” The hunter nodded his goodbye, and he and Stallia returned to the hunt for their quarry. The troll remained in the hunter’s mind for most of the evening, however. A most unusual creature among unusual creatures. Should he prevail in his hunt, the hunter resolved to return one day and revisit the troll. In the hunter’s long time on Aeonith, the troll was actually one of the most hospitable people he’d ever met.

The Destroyer had made good distance against his pursuers, but not good enough. The hunter’s sharp eyes could still see him clearly across the vast distance. Soon they were again galloping at full-speed, the hunter determined to catch his quarry this time, or at last die trying.