Tired of Death, Neil Hartley [best classic books to read TXT] 📗

know where we are anyway.” He pointed at a location on the map. “According to this there are goblins that way somewhere,” he waved his hand to their right, down a dark corridor.
“Goblins easy kill. No problem.”
“Yes, for once we’re thinking along the same lines. The important thing is... We must not split up! Do you understand? Hey! Are you listening to me?”
“Quiet. Crug hear something.”
“Don’t quiet me! This dungeon seems to work by picking people off one by one, if we stay together… Hey! Where are you going? Weren’t you listening to what I just said?”
“Crug hear woman! Maiden need help! Quick!”
“What the… Don’t be an idiot! What’s a woman doing down…” The wizard cursed to himself as the barbarian stood up and started jogging off to the left. “Blast the moron!” He scrambled around, stuffing papers into his pack before scrambled after his sole surviving companion. “No more barbarians! I swear! Next time it’s Rangers all the way. Crug you numbskull! Where are you? Oh there.” He glanced the back of the barbarian hurrying off down a fork in the tunnel, and scrambled after him. “Wait for me!”
The wizard panted as he raced down one tunnel and then up another after his companion. “Hold on blast you! This is not somewhere we can simply run about wildly!”
The passage terminated abruptly, and the figure stopped at the dead end to turn and face him.
As Redthorne drew closer some sixth sense caused him to slow and raise his staff. “Crug?”
The fighters’ form shimmered and changed, to be replaced by a different profile altogether. The impostor was still tall, but far from the muscle bound torso of the barbarian, this one seemed to be more corpse-like. Indeed, it appeared to be skeletal thin. Pale skin was drawn tightly over bones, and dark eyes stared out at him from a deathly white face.
The figure stood still, its black robe hanging loosely around it, revealing a sword strapped to one side. A dark Aura swam about the weapon, visible only to the wizards’ extended senses.
“Beast! What have you done with Crug?”
“The barbarian is being dealt with by some friends of mine. He shall be worm fodder before you can do anything about it wizard.” The voice was barely more than a hiss.
“Then you shall die!” Redthorne raised his staff.
“Wait!” A claw-like hand raised in a gesture. “Look behind you.”
Redthorne looked at the creature through narrowed eyes. What was going on here? He glanced behind him. Two more figures, mere zombies, were at his back, one wielding a rusty sword and the other apparently straining to hold a spear.
“You may get a spell off, who knows? It may even hurt me, but even if you manage to harm me, my friends will run you through.”
“What’s your game creature? Why do you toy with me thus? Do you have my comrades?”
“Your comrades are no longer a consideration,” it said ominously. “However, I need your help.”
“My help? My help?” Redthorne kept his staff leveled at the figure. “You are but a foul servant of evil! Why should I help you?”
“Aside from the obvious answer that you will end up dead if you don’t? It could work to your advantage.”
Redthorne cocked his head to one side. This didn’t seem like your usual dungeon ploy. Something strange was going on here. He lowered his staff slightly, whilst still remaining alert. “Go on, I’m listening.”

~ * ~

“Save me! Help!”
Crug could hear the damsel clearly now, her high pitched voice ringing with desperation. He held his sword in front of him and moved, panther like, towards the sound. Of course it could be a trap, but Barbarians didn’t heed that sort of thing. They went in sword swinging. It was a tactic that had always worked for him before.
Turning into a large cave he squinted in the gloom. The voice was coming from… over there! He slid quietly forward, towards a dark shape lying on the floor.
Crug crept up and knelt down next to the figure. “Never fear pretty maid… Arg!” The barbarian leapt backwards and swung his sword.
The trollop* cackled and rolled to one side, avoiding the swing. “Oh! My love has come to rescue me!” she rasped, clasping her hands together in mock adoration.
“Troll! Me kill now!” Crug jumped forward with surprising agility for someone with such bulk, catching the trollop by surprise with an attack that cut her arm neatly off at the shoulder.
“You Human! Do you know how long arms take to grow back?!” The creature, no longer amused, snarled, showing long yellow fangs.
“Hah! Crug no scared one little troll!” The barbarian advanced, weapon ready to strike again.
“Perhaps a big one then?” A shadow detached itself from the cavern wall and advanced to reveal the largest, meanest looking troll Crug had ever seen.
“Crug know no fear!” said Crug, not quite truthfully.
The large newcomer stepped forward, hefting a huge club. “Come then.”
Crug spat and advanced, thrusting his sword as he did so. It pierced the trolls’ side, causing green blood to spurt messily.
“Get him!” shouted the trollop.
Suddenly the barbarian was surrounded by large green creatures. He dodged to avoid a swing from a club, only to have claws rake his back, scoring lines of fire across his body.
He twisted, slicing and cutting green flesh as he did so.
There was a sick crunching noise, and a something slammed into his ribs. He heard his bones break under the impact and the air seemed to be sucked from his body. Crug staggered, looking up just in time to see the large troll swing his giant weapon round in a long arc. Time seemed to slow. He tried to jump back, but his legs were no longer responding. The barbarian could only watch as the club drew level and then smashed into the side of his head. He heard a short tearing sound and, for a brief second he seemed to be flying through the air. Then his detached brain ball hit a wall, and it all went dark…

*Female troll that is.

~ * ~

“I still don’t believe the Barbarian would be defeated that easily,” the wizard said again as they walked down the service tunnel towards the troll quarters. Lurching along with them were Cuthbert and Percy, muttering amongst themselves as they went.
Dreth shook his head. Why were mages always so stubborn? “You haven’t met Kevin. He’s the largest troll this side of the Luminous Lands. Even if he is a big, er…” He trailed off.
“A big what?” asked Redthorne. “Hey! Is that zombie eating a foot?”
“Sorry!” said Cuthbert, holding out the remains of the Halfling’s appendage. “You want a bite? I haven’t eaten much of it.”
The wizard recoiled in horror. “That’s Littlehorn!” he said accusingly.
“Part of him anyway,” grinned Cuthbert, nibbling on heel.
“You are monsters! What am I doing with you?”
“Not becoming dessert if you remember?” said Dreth, trying to nudge the conversation back on topic, whatever that was.
“Did you also take my Cleric?”
Cuthbert grinned widely for an answer. In his mouth a lone gold tooth sparkled.
Redthorne shook his head. “I should have listened to Barth. He told me hiring adventurers from a tavern was a mistake. It seems he was correct.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” said Percy kindly. “This is one tough place.”
“Okay, somewhere around here,” said Dreth.
“Are there these tunnels all through the dungeon?” asked Redthorne.
Dreth nodded. “I assume so, though we only know the ones in our area. This is as nearest exit I know of to the troll territory.” He felt around the wall, looking for the hidden door switch. “It’s been a while. Ah, here we go.” He pressed several bricks in succession and part of the wall swung aside with a grinding noise, to reveal a damp passage beyond.
They stepped through and moved off as the door swung shut behind them.
After a little way down Dreth turned to the wizard. “Best keep quiet. Don’t say anything provocative. We agreed to give your barbarian to them as a good will gesture, and the leader is a friend of mine, but we don’t want to push them even so. Trolls are not renowned for their honor and even temperament.”
The wizard nodded as they walked into a dimly lit cavern. To one side large green forms sat, lay, or stood about, several apparently fighting with each other. To the other side smaller figures, young trolls, were playing some sort of kickabout game. Dreth saw what they were using for a ball and hoped the mage wouldn’t notice, though it seemed the wizard was too busy trying not to gag at the smell.
They walked through the cave towards a crude dais, upon which a huge troll lounged. He had a wilted flower in his greasy hair. On one side of him a trollop was sprawled on the floor, chewing on something.
The seated troll saw them and stood up, one hand on his hip. The enormous creature loomed above Dreth as he approached.
“Dreth my good fellow! So wonderful to see you again my dear!” His voice was surprisingly camp, which seemed strange coming from such a big creature. “We received your present!” He gestured at a pile next to his seat, which turned out to be Crug, neatly dissected.
Dreth felt the wizard stiffen next to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder for a moment before turning to the troll and speaking. “Glad you didn’t have any trouble with him. Let me introduce you to my team. This is Redthorne, mage. Standing drooling here are my old colleagues Cuthbert and Percy, zombies first class. Guys, this is Kevin. He’s the leader of the trolls.”
“Charmed to meet you two. Please my lovies, help yourself.” The troll king gestured towards the barbarian pieces, upon which the two zombies hissed their thanks and lurched forward to pick at the remains.
“So, my dear, a mage eh? Are you sure you know what you’re doing? They can be such beasts!” Kevin draped a friendly arm around Dreth, who took it stoically.
Dreth shrugged. “If I intend to seek out the treasure of this place, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
Kevin sighed. “Well, your funeral I suppose, but you know humans can’t be trusted. Living ones anyway,” he amended hastily. “Such a waste of a handsome body too.” He pawed at Dreth and shook his head sadly. “So, what can Uncle Kevin do to help?” The troll put a