Duke Christo Ramas sat behind his large, cherrywood desk, reading statements from the royal treasury. Two hundred years ago, this very desk belonged to Duke Mikale Ochs, a bloodthirsty tyrant who ruled his duchy with an iron fist. Eventually, his military officers staged a coup, and the duke was stoned to death in the main square of Old Koratia by angry peasants.

Duke Ramas hoped the same fate didn't await him. He dipped his quill in ink and signed a document giving the soldiers a small pay raise.

A knock came at the door to his study.

The duke blew on the fresh ink and put his quill back in its pot. "Enter."

A pasty, hunched-over man in ornate, magenta robes with golden pinstriping came through the door. He bowed.

"Captain Regdar is here to see you."

The duke looked up from his desk. "Regdar, eh. Send him in."

"Very good, my lord." The hunched man bowed again and exited.

A moment later, the door swung open wider, and Regdar stepped across the threshold. He dropped to one knee.

"Rise, Captain," said the duke, standing behind his desk. "Come in."

Regdar stood up, closed the heavy wooden door behind him, and stepped farther into the room.

"I suspect your conversation with the good cleric went well."

"Yes, sir, it did."

The duke smiled. "And I also suspect you've come to tell me he talked some sense into that fool head of yours." He chuckled.

"Not exactly, sir," replied the big fighter.

The duke stopped laughing.

Regdar puffed himself up to his full height and stood at perfect attention. "I've come to resign my commission, sir."

Duke Ramas strode around his desk and leaned back against its front edge. "Now, son, I realize I was a little hard on you today, but—"

"No, sir," interrupted Regdar. "I believe you were entirely fair and honest with me."

The duke shook his head, confused. "Then what is this all about?"

Regdar glanced down, looking uncomfortable. "It's about Naull, sir. I believe she's still alive."

Duke Ramas pinched the bridge of his nose. "And you wish to resign your commission so you can go find her, is that it?"

"Yes, sir."

The duke pounded his fist on the desk. "And what am I supposed to do when these black-armored soldiers come marching on New Koratia again? I need you here, Regdar, now more than ever."

Regdar nodded.

The duke was frustrated. "These things I've been saying to you, these talks we've been having aren't just about you being more careful, they're about you learning how to take larger responsibility."

"Yes, sir, I know," replied Regdar. "Now I have a responsibility to myself to find out if the woman I love is still alive." He stepped closer to the duke. "This is something I have to do. You have plenty of capable soldiers who can defend New Koratia while I'm gone, and when I return—"

"Your duty is to this duchy, Captain Regdar," interrupted the duke, standing up to his full height and stepping up to look the big fighter in the eye. "If you leave now, don't ever show your face in my territory again, or you will be hanged from a gallows for abandoning your post. Do I make myself clear?"

Regdar gritted his teeth. "Perfectly." He unhitched his shield from his back. He looked at the red dragon crest—the field arms of the New Koratian military—on its front, then let it fall to the ground.

The duke flinched as it crashed to the hard wood floor.

Regdar saluted, turned on his heels, and exited the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

The duke rubbed his eyes with his calloused palm. He sighed.

"May Pelor light your way, young man. May Pelor light your way."

 

 

In the dying evening hght, Regdar paced outside the barrack door. What would he tell the men? If Naull was being held by slavers, then one fighter, no matter how strong, wasn't going to be able to rescue her. He needed their help but he was no longer their captain. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and marched toward the open door.

Regdar crossed through the first chamber and into the bunk room. Whitman, Tasca, Clemf, and Krunk all looked up from their cots. He looked back.

"Well?" prompted Whitman after a pregnant pause.

Regdar paced the room, thinking about what he was going to say. He stopped and faced the four men, forcing a smile.

"The duke has given us his blessing," he said, nodding.

"Even after what happened last night?" asked Tasca.

Regdar stood to his full height. "The duke has confidence that the New Koratian military and his elite guards can handle the situation, with or without our help."

Tasca shrugged. "Okay then, what are we waiting for? Let's go find your woman."

The men began hefting their already-packed backpacks.

Regdar coughed into his fist.

The men stopped.

"I must remind you that this mission, like many in the past, is undertaken on a volunteer-only basis." He looked each of them in the eye. "You are under no obligation to go."

They all laughed, shouldering their gear and heading past Regdar out the door.

The big fighter smiled, grabbed his own belongings, and fell into step behind Clemf at the end of the line.

 

 

The party marched through the gates and down the River Delnir toward the Southern Sea. The moon slowly rose in the darkening sky, and the sound of crickets and the running river filled the soldiers' ears.

"Nice night," said Tasca.

"Only an elf would say that," jabbed Whitman.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I don't know," replied the dwarf, "maybe you ought to write us some poetry about the moonlight and the romantic crickets. Maybe the pretty little elf boy should have been a bard."

Tasca pulled his rapier from his belt, flipped it endwise, and conked the dwarf on the helm with the bell. The heavy dwarven helmet rang loud in the quiet night, and the crickets stopped chirping.

"Will you two knock it off?" scolded Regdar. "Thanks to you all the bears and bandits know we're out here."

"It's better that way," said Whitman, smiling as he readjusted his helm. "I prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around."

"Duck!" Clemf landed hard on Regdar's back, and the two men hit the ground.

"What the—" Regdar rolled over, ready to curse Clemf for his clumsiness, but found himself staring up at a river troll.

Whitman tumbled into action. Rolling forward, he came up at the foot of the beast. The shiny, dwarven-worked head of his weapon crashed down with a tremendous thud and a crack.

The troll's thigh bone visibly collapsed, and its knee shot out at an odd angle. The creature hissed at the dwarf and swung back. Its claws raked along the side of Whitman's helm. The spine-tingling screech, like the sound of a razor scraping soft stone, made Regdar cringe.

The dwarf, however, seemed not to mind. "That the best you got, you slimy giant?" cursed Whitman.

Tasca winked at Krunk before jumping into combat and slicing his blade across the troll's arm.

A long gash opened up, and dark green fluid poured out, dripping to the ground and splashing on Whitman.

"Damn you, elf," shouted the stout, little man.

"You should be taller," replied Tasca, dodging the troll's backhand.

A second troll pulled itself from the banks of the river. The mottled green beast dived into the fray, but Clemf and Krunk intercepted it before it could reach its companion.

"Must be a female," shouted Krunk, ducking under a clawed fist.

Clemf lunged forward, jabbing his longsword at the green giant. "How do you know?"

Krunk's mace connected with a meaty slap, ripping away a large hunk of flesh. "Because it's bigger than the other."

Regdar shook off his pack and clambered to his feet, then circled behind the first troll. The slash on its arm had already stopped bleeding, and the skin was closing over. Its leg, too, was straightening, but Whitman's heavy blow had shattered the bone so that even the rapidly recovering beast moved slower than normal.

While Tasca and Whitman kept the monster at bay, Regdar rushed in from behind it. The troll saw its danger and tried to squirm away at the last minute, but being pinned between three opponents, it had nowhere to go. Regdar's greatsword cleaved deeply into the rubbery hide.

More green blood flooded to the ground, once again splashing Whitman. The troll staggered around and glared down at Regdar.

"What's this?" Tasca leered at Whitman. "No criticism for Regdar?" He lunged in and his blade skipped from the beast's heavy hide.

"Why would I?" replied the dwarf, bringing his hammer down on the troll's foot. "This is all your fault."

Tasca stumbled back from the troll's backswing and landed on his seat. "Of course," he said, lifting himself from the ground and sneering at the dwarf. "I almost forgot."

The troll limped a half-step forward and swung at Regdar. The claws on its mighty right hand connected with the fighter's ribcage, producing a loud, cracking sound. The blow knocked the air from Regdar's lungs. The creature's second claw swung down, to catch the big fighter on the thigh. Its digits wrapped around Regdar's leg as if it were a chicken wing, then the troll leaned back and yanked. Regdar dropped his sword in the struggle to free himself from the monster's grip. It was no use. The troll had him tight, and the big fighter's flesh tore under the troll's rending claws.

Regdar howled in pain. The monster's claws made a popping sound as they pulled out of his side, then scraped across the metal of his armor. The big fighter fell to the ground, shaken and bleeding. The stretched, ripped skin between his ribs and leg felt as if it were on fire.

The troll seemed quite pleased with itself.

Braced on his hands and knees, Regdar spit on the ground. A long, thin line of red trailed through the center of the viscous saliva, and he growled.

Regdar picked up his sword and got to his feet as quickly as he could manage. "I've had about enough of you," he shouted. Then he stepped forward, covering almost his full height in a single step, and aimed a powerful blow at the troll.

The sudden attack surprised the monster. Regdar's blade bit deep into the troll's side, forcing it to hop back on its broken leg. That brought it nearly atop Whitman, who smashed his hammer against the creature's back. Tasca's rapier flashed in the moonlight. It glanced off the creature's shoulder before spearing deep into its neck.

The troll roared and shook its head. Tasca's blade came free of his hand, its point still stuck in the side of the giant's throat. The monster clawed at its neck and chest, gouging the flesh with its nails.

A huge flash lit the dark sky. Over Whitman's shoulder, the second troll burst into flames. Beside the beast stood Clemf holding a broken glass bottle in his hand. Krunk crouched next to him, his hand in the air, a small, magical flame in his palm.

Regdar had no time to ask what they'd done. The troll before him, despite its horrid wounds, managed to dislodge Tasca's rapier and toss it to the ground as if it were a toothpick. The beast flailed its arms in a frenzy, nearly catching Whitman in the chest and sending Tasca sprawling out of the way. Regdar ducked under a poorly aimed blow and stepped inside the creature's reach.

With a well-placed jab, the big fighter rammed his sword into the soft flesh between the creature's ribs. Dropping to one knee, Regdar lowered his shoulder and put all of his strength behind an upward thrust. His blade disappeared up to its hilt inside the creature's chest, devoured entirely by slick, green flesh.

The troll's arms fell to its sides, and it raised its head to the sky. A stinking, fang-lined mouth opened wide, as if it were cursing whatever god a troll might worship or despise. With a tremendous shudder, the giant leaned forward and vomited on Regdar. Dark green bile, punctuated with shiny, black gobs, rained over the fighter.

Finally spent, the monster toppled back and landed with a thud on the hard ground.

Regdar stood motionless, his hands out at his sides, breathing from his open mouth. His sword jutted at an angle from the fallen creature's chest. Behind it, Krunk and Clemf danced around the second, flaming troll. The little dwarf threw fistfuls of fire at the burning monster while the human splashed it with lamp oil. Both bobbed and weaved, staying out of reach of the very angry creature that was thankfully blinded by the flames and the pain.

Regdar felt a hand resting on his shoulder.

"You okay, chief?" Whitman asked.

Regdar shook himself back to reality and focused on the slowly healing wound in the troll's ribs where it was transfixed by his sword. His lip curled in disgust.

"Never better," he spat. Stepping forward, the fighter grabbed his sword and sawed it sideways through the troll's body. More green liquid spilled out.

Regdar ignored it.

Lifting his sword over his head, Regdar sliced it across the monster's neck. The blade cut through rubbery flesh and found the cartilage between two vertebrae before hitting the hard-packed dirt. The troll's head rolled free, flopped awkwardly as it rotated once, twice, then came to a stop, nose in the air. The body convulsed.

"That's one way to do it," commented Tasca, looking down at the dead giant.

"Indeed," agreed Whitman.

A loud screech brought Regdar's attention to the other troll. Its flesh bubbled and cracked in the flames. Dark smoke rose toward the sky, and a heavy stench, like burning feces, filled the air. Flames encased every inch of the beast, making it look like a fire elemental.

Squawking out its pain, the troll collapsed to its knees. It flopped onto its face, and its burning hand came to rest on the other troll's decapitated head. Then it finally stopped moving, and the whole mass continued to burn.

Regdar sat back on his heels. "I don't know about any of you, but I vote we find a place with flowing water and no trolls and camp for the night."