The Real Threat

If It Were Only A Dragon [Chapter 22]

As my sight cleared, I spotted the dark-haired mage before me. “Nemona?”

She pushed at me with her staff, knocking me to my rear and forcing the sword from my hand. “Call your men off.”

“We’re defending ourselves here!” I said, catching my breath.

She turned back without an answer, holding her staff up before her, not daring to budge from the troll’s path. “Leave them! Calm yourself! They meant no harm!”

The troll stopped its thrashing. It stomped its feet several more times before finally staying itself, head lowering.

I pushed myself up, holding my hand up to the others who still had swords raised. “Do as she says, I think we’ve… reached an agreement.”

Almost sadly, the troll let out a final roar before turning about and marching back down in the direction of the stream. Nariza approached, shaking her head. “You, elf, how did you reason with it?”

Nemona looked back at the druid. “I see, a mistress of the forest,” She said, looking next at the gnoll and the rest of my men. “Picked yourself up some allies, did you? Well, that one’s mine.”

“A troll?” I huffed, breath returning to me. “Is that safe?”

The elf clicked her tongue and wagged her finger. “Now, I may not be able to make use of forest speak like a Druid, but I have plenty of practice dealing with those of lesser intelligence.”

“And compared to you, how many would fall under that category?” I asked, arms folded, barely wanting to hear the answer. “No, on second, thought, how about you tell us what progress you’ve made out here? Besides befriending brutes like that. Eriques, have everyone take a breather for ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” my squire complied, departing to rally the others.

Nemona wandered back the way of the stream, following the deep footprints left by the sulking troll. “He only attacked because you wandered into his territory,” she said back to me as I approached.

“We’d best put up signs to warn anyone who might come by and get pounded into hog feed,” I suggested, peering through the brush at the beast’s obscured form.

“Here’s the thing. Greep is used to living around humans. A few miles down the creek here is a great bog. He lived under the bridge that connected the east and west sides, it’s a well-traveled trade route.”

I snapped my fingers. “An honest-to-goodness bridge troll? I thought those were only in stories to frighten kids so they stay on the path.”

“You need not stereotype, you round-eared fool. Yes, he is a troll who calls a bridge his home, but that is not a specific pedigree of troll. Imagine if people tried to sort you lot like that. Would you accept to be called a castle human? Perhaps a manor-man?”

“Not in anybody’s current way of speaking.”

“Exactly,” said the elf, wagging a finger. “My point, he took many tolls from travelers over the years, kept up the maintenance on the bridge with the money. It served as the roof over his head too, after all. Even though he only knows a few words, people I’ve asked said he was quite personable.”

I stood on my toes to make sure the troll was still a good distance away. “So why the sudden aggression toward us?”

“The bridge is no more,” said the elf, pointing far down the stream. “I watched it burn—early yesterday morning. I’ve been going from town to town and came across the bridge and its caretaker. He was quite reasonable with his demands for payment. I happily complied of course, if only to prompt a chat and gain some intel on the area. Not long after I had crossed, I heard the screeches of the dragon descending for an attack. Followed it back to the crossing. A trader with an ox cart was coming though after me, and that’s when it came down. Set the whole thing ablaze. The animal jumped off in panic from the flames and got stuck in the muck below. The dragon itself landed only for a moment to snatch it up in his…its mouth. Greep was throwing quite the fit, but the dragon just took its meal and flew off again.”

I tried to imagine the scene. “And then this troll, er, Greep?”

“I got distracted trying to snuff out the flames with magic and try to save the bridge. But he was already too upset, ran up this way in a frenzy, seeking the shadow of the dragon for as long as he could.”

“That explains the frogs that overtook us last night.”

“Frogs?”

“Never mind it,” I sighed. “I guess we just caught him at a bad time up here.”

“You could say that. But now that he’s calmed down, I can ask him again about this mutual foe of ours.”

“In saying foe, I am to believe that you no longer wish to make friends with this dragon?”

Nemona let out a humph, pushing up her glasses to buy time. “In human terms, I’d say the dragon may be too proud to make friends. My studies tell me that dragons certainly feel superior to human kind— and believe me, I know the feeling. But most intelligent creatures can be reasoned with, or at least swayed. If, maybe, it feels like our Kingdom is more trouble than it’s worth, it may depart.”

“We’ll give it every ounce of trouble we can spare,” I insisted, cracking my knuckles.

“I certainly know how much trouble you lot can be,” Nemona responded, glancing back to the others. “But I still refuse to rule out calm discussion. Tell it how we can live in harmony with it here. If I can do that much with a troll, it can work with a dragon.”

“Sure,” I said with a wipe of my brow. “Well, first see if you can manage the troll.”

After our update, Nemona went down to the stream in search of her reluctant ally. It was nearly an hour before she came back up the ridge, waving her hand. “We have made amends. Make sure all your weapons are sheathed, of course. While we’re here, we should cross, since there is no more bridge downstream.”

We were soon crawling down the same slope that we nearly lost the cart and all our supplies to. For the horses, the rocky, slick slopes were manageable, but the mules needed more coaxing, especially with their past experience.

Nemona and the troll awaited us at the bottom of the gulley. The water of the stream was no higher than our ankles, but the uneven wash and thicket of trees made the cart’s path uncertain.

“We can’t get through,” Eriques called forward on the vehicle’s bench, leaning every which way to avoid the crux of a boulder and a young willow.

“Greep,” said the elf, already expecting the situation. The troll stomped forward, grasping at the rocky impasse with his wrinkled fingers and rotten nails. With a bellow, he ripped the boulder from the bank, tossing it back into the water with a splash. The horses attempting to wade by warily ducked out of the way and bucked their way to the far side, riders hanging on for dear life.

With lip tucked under his teeth, Eriques inched the cart forward over the rest of the rocky ground. “Uh, thank you very much, Mr. Troll.”

I vaguely wished to see the beast rip a tree from the bank, but Eriques’ rush to avoid more interactions brought the cart up the far bank with no hang-ups. I waited for everyone else to cross before following up.

Some of my men watched the skies, while others kept their eyes on the troll. Nemona was with the beast at the head of the pack. Somewhere out in this new frontier was our target.

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