Apprentices of Quark: Three

Three: New Friends Bond

Cera looked out the window onto the city below and cursed her luck. First her Master gets himself killed because his impatient temper, and now this. Trolls. Lots of them. There had been a tremendous battle earlier in the afternoon between rival factions, and the victors had set up camp in the square right below her.
     This is all your fault, Ofgenre P’trojger, she thought bitterly. You had to bring us out to one of these dead cities, didn’t you? Paranoid old fool, worried about other wizards stealing your secrets. Rather that than tribes of nomadic trolls.
     For the past several weeks she had stayed on, going through the inventory of her late Master’s things. Which were now her things. With his untimely demise Cera had become, technically, a full-fledged wizard. Apprentice inherits the Master’s legacy and all that. She wasn’t a bad wizard herself, but she wondered if the Council would acknowledge her new position. Which was why she had stayed, trying to learn as much as she could before returning to civilisation and claiming her title.
     Now all I can do is wait and hope the big brutes move on, she thought, staring down at the wagons and campfires. Even if they did, it would be no easy feat to reach Hylastria on her own. She had the wagon and the team of hal’cha to pull it, which she needed to transport all her books and wizardly paraphernalia, but it was a long way. A long way over empty plains filled with troll tribes and other dangers. Ofgenre P’trojger’s magic had protected them on the journey to the dead city. Cera doubted if her magic was up for the return trip.
     It’s either that or I stay here, she decided. I have to at least try. Otherwise I’ll die out here. The food won’t last forever.

                                                            *****

The female troll stepped from the rear of the wagon and nodded to Mokk, who in turn nodded to Garadun. “Go talk. I see no one disturb you.”
      “Thanks, Mokk,” said Garadun, and climbed into the wagon. Like all troll wagons it was very spacious. Several barrels were lined up against one side, as were a few crates of food. Along the other side were a pile of sleeping furs on which sat the frightened nymph. A leather manacle was fastened around her left ankle, which in turn was connected to a metal chain attached to the wall of the wagon.
      “Hi, I’m Garadun,” he said, cautiously approaching the beautiful woman. “I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?”
      “Thuria, Master,” she replied in a soft, sensual voice.
      “I’m not your Master,” he said, crouching near her. “I’m hoping maybe we can be friends, though. Is it true you’re a love slave?”
      “Yes,” she said, touching her tattoo. “Are you going to buy me?”
      “No, I don’t have the money,” he said, then smiled. “But I can tell you the trolls aren’t going to hurt you. I promise.”
      “What are they going to do?” she asked curiously.
      “They’re planning to find someone who can afford their price and then sell you,” he said, frowning. “I asked the chief not to, but he says you’re too valuable.”
      Thuria nodded. “We nymphs are highly prized. The other trolls were planning to do the same thing.”
      “How did they catch you?”
      “I was in the caravan they attacked. They killed everyone including my Master. I tried to hide but they found me.”
      “Where are you from? Originally, I mean.”
      “The city of Hylastria,” she replied. “I was concubine to my Master.” She looked at him imploringly. “Please, can you not buy me? I promise I’ll be a good slave, a good concubine. Please, don’t let them sell me to the elves!”
      “Elves?” There’s elves on this world as well? “Who said they were going to sell you to the elves? And why are you so afraid of them?”
      “I heard a troll woman say that elves would give the most money for me,” she explained. “But you don’t know about elves?”
      “No, I’m not from around here.”
      “The elves are few in number but they’re very powerful,” she told him. “They’re said to have the greatest riches in the world.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “They say they’re fond of dark pleasures, cruel pleasures. That they perform magical experiments on those who fail to please them.”
     Great, there’s actually elves here and they turn out to be total bastards, he thought sourly. So much for them being the noble good guys.
      “Look, I promise I’ll do my best to make sure they don’t sell you to the elves,” he said, taking her hand. Her skin was wonderfully soft. “In fact I’m still trying to think of a way so they don’t sell you at all. It’s not right for people to own other people.”
      “You’re very kind, Master. I wish I could be your slave,” she said with a fond smile as she caressed his cheek. Her touch lit a fire in his nether regions and he could barely keep his eyes off her. Damn, she was beautiful!
      “Look, enough of this ‘Master’ business, okay?” he said, pulling away from her soft touch. “Just call me Garadun. That’s what my friends call me.”
      “Yes, Master,” she said, smiling. “I would like to be your friend too.”
      “Are you hungry? I could get you something to eat.”
      “They already gave me something to eat, but I thank you.”
     Mokk knocked on the wagon. “Little brother, unless you play with her, it time to go. I sorry, but chieftain say so.”
      “Right, coming. Look, I’ll come see you when I can, okay?”
      “I would like that,” said Thuria, and before he could stop her she leaned forward and kissed him. She had the softest, sweetest lips he’d ever felt, and that one kiss made him hard as stone.
      “I’ll see you later,” he gasped, and retreated from the wagon before his hormones took over. She also had a natural perfume which made his knees weak.
      “Have good talk?” Mokk asked with an amused grin.
      “Yeah, and I learned a few things as well. Come on, I need to speak to the chief. If what she said is true, she’s in danger. I’ve got an idea.”

Haarg, troll chieftain of the Stonewind tribe, sat in his huge chair gazing thoughtfully at the human before him. Although small he’d proven he didn’t lack courage, as shown by this audacious request. He’d have made a fine troll and maybe, someday, after he’d died and the gods saw fit to return his spirit to the world, they would make him a troll in reward for his courage.
      “You know what you ask of me?”
      “Yes, Chief Haarg. I would like your assurance that you won’t sell the love slave, Thuria, to the elves. I’m told they’re a cruel folk.”
      “Elves are fierce, yes. But what they do with slave is not concern of mine. They have much gold, will pay well for nymph.”
      “But you said you wouldn’t hurt her,” said Garadun boldly. “Wouldn’t selling her to the elves guarantee she’d be hurt?”
      “In our care, she not hurt. What elves do later is not my business.”
     Garadun pursed his lips. “Okay then… if it’s a matter of money, how much will it cost to have you not sell her to the elves?”
     Haarg raised his heavy brows in surprise. “You pay for that? Not to buy for self, but only for us not to sell to elves?”
      “Mokk says I get a share of the loot we took from the Bloodrocks, right?”
      “Mokk speaks true. You fight, save his life. You have share.”
      “Then how much for you not to sell her to the elves?” he asked again. “Mokk says I don’t have enough to buy her myself, but hopefully I can see to it that you don’t sell her to someone who’ll hurt her.”
     The tribe elders, which included Mokk’s father and who were gathered around for this council, murmured among themselves, impressed by this display of selflessness. The little human indeed knew what honour meant. Haarg pondered the request. He too was impressed. If Garadun had enough money he’d happily sell her to him, knowing he’d be a good master. But even at a bargain price, as friends are wont to offer friends, the price was still to high for him to afford. Nymph love slaves were just that valuable.
      “You make honourable bargain, Garadun, friend of Stonewind tribe. I take one quarter of share and promise not to sell to elves.”
      “Done,” said Garadun, pleased that he’d at least made a little ground. A small chest was brought out, one that was filled with coins and jewellery, and a portion of it was removed. He knew a quarter of the hard goods such as clothes and ale which made up the rest of his share would also be taken.
      “By the way, just supposing I did have enough… how much would it cost to buy her for myself?” Garadun asked curiously.
      “Twenty of that,” the chief replied, pointing to the small chest. “Along with many more things you win.”
     Shit, that’s a freakin’ load of cash, he thought despondently. Mokk leaned down and whispered in his ear. He looked at him curiously and the troll nodded.
      “Since we’re bargaining, Chief Haarg: how much for one of the captured wagons and its kom’cha?”
      “Why you need wagon?”
      “While I’ve been honoured to stay with Mokk and his family, I think I should have a home of my own. A man needs his own place.”
      “You speak well and true,” said Haarg, and the elders nodded their agreement. “For you I give wagon and kom’cha for half-share of chest.”
      “I get to keep my blankets and food and stuff?”
      “Yes, you keep.”
      “Done.”
      “My chieftain, I make suggestion, “ said Mokk, stepping forward. “All here know little brother is honourable human, worthy of troll trust.” Several elders grunted their agreement and the chief nodded. “Trolls scare nymph. If scared, maybe not eat, get sick, and lose value. I say little brother keep charge of nymph until buyer found. I hear their words, know he not scare her.”
     Garadun gaped at Mokk, no less surprised than anyone else.
      “Hmm. You have point. But Garadun wish nymph free. What if he run off with her? We lose great prize.”
      “Little brother give word not to run off,” said Mokk, looking at Garadun.
      “You give word?” Haarg asked.
      “Uh, sure,” he replied. “I’ll take care of her if that’s what you want,” he said, gazing questioningly at Mokk.
      “So be it,” said Haarg. “In you we trust nymph. If she get sick or run off, you pay.”
      “Sure, no problem.”
      “Mokk, this your idea. See to it,” the chief commanded, and with a wave of his hand dismissed the tribal council.
      “What was that all about?” Garadun hissed.
      “You like nymph, this I see,” Mokk told him with a touch of a smile. “Now you have her until we sell. Come, we get your new wagon, get girl, make home.”
     Just what I need, he thought with a sigh. To be put in charge of a woman I would love to be with but can’t have. Thanks a lot, Mokk.

                                                            *****

The next morning Cera looked out her window and saw the trolls were still there. And they didn’t look like they’d be going anywhere anytime soon. I thought they were supposed to be nomads, she thought. So nomad already.
     She returned to the small room which had acted as her Master’s library to continue the task of slowly packing everything away. She was hoping the trolls would leave in the next day or so. Then she could safely come down from the high building and begin preparing for the trek to Hylastria. She was halfway through her chore when she heard the trolls making some sort of commotion in the square below.
     Now what is it? Another fight? She moved to the window and gazed down on the scene below. What she saw made her blanch in fear. The trolls had discovered her wagon and team! Now what was she going to do?
     I need to hide! she thought desperately, and ran for the exit. But only feet from her escape the door burst open and in the way stood two hulking trolls. She ran for the library, knowing it had a second door which she could use to make her getaway. But as she came into the room, that door was also open and filled with trolls. She spun on her heel, trying in her panic to think of a spell, when two massive arms clamped down on her, entwining tight about her chest. She screamed and twisted and kicked, but the troll was far too strong to escape. Laughing at her plight, the trolls made their way from the room and down the stairs with Cera tucked neatly under her captor’s arm. She struggled and spat obscenities but it was no use. Calling out to their brethren in their deep booming voices, the trolls exited the building and strolled proudly into the square, where several others trolls pointed and laughed at the still-squirming Cera.
      “Let me go, you filthy brutes! Let me go!”
     Within moments the entire tribe had gathered ‘round to examine their latest prize, many praising the gods for their good fortune. This was a good omen, a sure sign that the trolls of the Stonewind tribe would do well at Trollmoot. Cera was then roughly put back on her feet, her captor’s hands like vises on her arms.
      “You worthless, smelly thugs! A pox on all of you!” she yelled. The largest troll, who stood close to ten foot tall, stepped forward and glared at her.
      “Hold tongue, human!” he growled. “What you do here?”
      “Go to the Abyss!”
     The troll leaned in close and sniffed. “Pagh! I smell magic! This wizard for sure!”
      “That’s right, you brainless lout!” she replied. “Now let me go or I’ll turn the lot of you into bugs and squash you one by one!”
      “Is wizard?” said another troll and came forward. “What you do to little brother, wizard? Why you magic him?”
      “I’ve never met your brother, you hairy, snaggletoothed oaf!”
      “He means me,” said Garadun as he emerged from the crowd of trolls. Cera was so shocked by his appearance she actually stopped cursing. A human travelling with trolls and dressed in their clothes?
      “This little brother,” said Mokk. “Now speak, wizard.”
      “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
      “Let her go,” said Garadun, and after a nod from his chief the troll holding Cera released his iron grip. “What Mokk wants to know is if you’re responsible for my being here. I came here from another world, called Earth. It wasn’t intentional.”
     Cera’s eyes widened and she gasped, her hand coming to her mouth. This was the creature the Artefact had summoned? A human from another Plane?
      “I take it from your reaction you know about this?”
      “It wasn’t me!” she said. “It was Ofgenre P’trojger, my Master!”
     The trolls growled. “So where is this guy?” Garadun asked. “Up there?”
      “He’s dead. Very dead, actually.”
      “Oh? Care to explain?”
     Feeling a sudden wave of guilt for his predicament, she related the brief story of how her Master had been trying to call some daemon from another Plane, but thanks to the Artefact’s destruction Garadun had obviously been the one who’d been brought to Quark instead.
      “This wizard wrong you, Garadun, friend of Stonewind tribe,” said Haarg. “If you want her death, I let you kill her.”
     Cera paled.
      “It was her Master’s fault, not hers,” said Garadun. “She hasn’t done anything to me or the tribe. I think we should let her go.”
      “You sure, little brother?” Mokk asked, eyeing Cera suspiciously.
      “Yeah, I’m sure. I wouldn’t mind kicking the shit out of her Master, but since he’s dead there’s nothing I can do, right?”
     Haarg loomed over Cera. “You lucky, wizard. Garadun ask for mercy. We trolls are just people, so we let you go.”
      “Fine, give me my team back and I’ll be on my way.”
     Haarg smiled wickedly. “We let you go, not team. Animals and wagon we find, we keep. Bogg, you find treasure with wizard?”
      “Very little, my chieftain,” Bogg replied, who’d been one of the trolls to capture her. “Lot of books, strange things, but little gold.”
      “Search for more gold, then leave wizard things to wizard,” said Haarg, looking at Cera in disgust. “Tomorrow we leave.”
      “But what I am I supposed to do without my wagon?” she said plaintively.
      “You wizard, magic another,” Haarg laughed, and the other trolls laughed with him as they turned away to go about their business. Now stuck in a dead city with no means of getting home, the strain on Cera’s nerves finally broke and she couldn’t stop the tears which ran down her cheeks as she stood there helplessly in the square.
     But unlike the trolls, Garadun didn’t turn his back on her. He looked at her with a mixture of pity and curiosity. He also felt a strong liking for her although he couldn’t say why. It was simply instinct. So this was a wizard. Cera stood a few inches shorter than himself, and aside from the slightly pointed ears looked fully human. She was also very pretty with long, dark brown hair held up in a topknot, blue-grey eyes, a creamy complexion and a nice figure. She was garbed in close-fitting black trousers, black shoes, a short-sleeved lavender silk blouse and a creamy leather vest. On each upper arm were tattoos of bird-like creatures and she had large, slim rings of gold in her ears.
     Just looks like a pretty young woman to me, he thought. He stepped up to her and smiled. “What’s your name?”
      “Cera,” she replied, quickly wiping her eyes.
      “I’m Garadun. I take it you’re stuck here?”
      “I wouldn’t be if your friends hadn’t stolen my wagon,” she retorted. “And what are you doing travelling with a bunch of trolls, anyway?”
      “They befriended me after I got stuck on this world,” he countered, and she blushed, lowering her eyes guiltily. “So far they’ve been good to me. But what I said is true. I’m not holding what your Master did against you.”
      “Really?” she said, surprised.
      “Really. Look, I don’t know anyone except for the trolls and I could always use another friend,” he said, and offered his hand. Cera shook it carefully. “Since you seem to be struck here, why don’t you come with us? I have a wagon of my own and I know it’s big enough to carry whatever you’ve got.”
      “You’d do that for me?”
     He smiled. “That’s what friends are for, aren’t they?”
      “But trolls hate wizards.”
      “I’m not a troll. And since I’m new here I got no preconceptions. Unlike them, I think magic is fascinating. Love to hear about it.”
     Cera studied him for a moment, taking his measure. There was nothing exceptional about his looks: very short dark hair, hazel eyes, moderate complexion. But she felt an instant liking for him, a gut instinct which said this man was a friend.
      “All right, friends it is,” she said with a growing smile.
      “Good. Now why don’t we get your things and load them in my wagon?” he suggested. “I’ll see if Thuria’s willing to help.”
      “Who’s Thuria?”
      “A nymph the tribe captured after beating the other trolls,” he explained. “She’s been put in my care.”
      “Is that so?” she said with a wide smile. “I’d like to meet her.”
      “Sure, my wagon’s over this way.”
     As they crossed the square, an old troll looked on with a raised eyebrow, then shook his head and went to his own wagon to make a needed cup of hot tea.

It took several hours to gather and pack all of Cera’s things and store them in Garadun’s mobile home. But with the wagon being of troll-make there was plenty of space for everything with room to spare, even with the goods that were already stored in it. Cera and Thuria made a quick bond since they were the only non-troll women in the encampment. A portion of the wagon was sectioned off with a large, hanging blanket to give the ladies privacy when they desired it, and the three of them worked together to make the place as homey as possible. This was aided with a few pieces of human-sized furniture taken from the building where Cera and her Master had been living, including a modest table, a few stools, clothes chests, even a couple of small bookcases. All said, it was rather comfortable.
      “I never thought my life would come to this,” Cera noted as they sat ‘round the table that evening eating dinner. “Living in a troll wagon in the middle of a troll tribe.”
      “Can’t be weirder than it is for me,” said Garadun, grinning.
      “I must thank you again, Mistress, for these clothes,” said Thuria.
      “My pleasure, Thuria,” Cera replied. “Your other outfit, while very sexy, is hardly warm enough for travel.”
     Thuria now wore a red shirt (which was straining to contain the nymph’s incredible bosom) and a pair of pale yellow pantaloons, along with a pair of soft leather boots. Garadun had donated, among other garments, a warm leather jacket of troll-make.
      “I think she wears it quite well,” he added.
      “Thank you, Master,” Thuria replied, giving him a grateful smile. Despite his request she kept calling him “Master.” It was natural for her, and although he’d accepted this idiosyncrasy he was hoping to break her of it in time.
      “So where are we going?” Cera asked.
      “Trollmoot. It’s a big gathering of trolls where they meet to do business. Mokk says the place is still a long way from here.”
      “I’ve heard of Trollmoot,” said Cera. “Other races sometimes show up as well to trade with the trolls. Humans, elves, even the occasional goblin sometimes.”
     At the mention of elves Thuria immediately looked afraid.
      “Don’t worry, Thuria, they’re not going to sell you to the elves. I saw to that,” he said, and her expression changed from fear to affection.
      “Sell her? I thought she belonged to you,” said Cera, puzzled.
      “No, she belongs to the tribe,” he explained, scowling. “I don’t believe in slavery, but they plan to sell her anyways. I tried to talk them out of it, but the best I could do was pay them not to sell her to elves.”
      “Couldn’t you buy her yourself?” she asked. Gods, I know I would…
      “Don’t have enough money,” he said bitterly. “But I’m still trying to think of something. I’d like to see Thuria made free.”
      “You’d pay such a price just so you could free her?”
      “Yeah.”
      “My Master is very kind,” said Thuria, putting her hand over his.
      “That I can see,” Cera agreed. “Well I hope you come up with something. Such a beautiful woman should be in the care of a good person like you, Garadun.”
      “I’ve already promised to look after her,” he said, smiling at Thuria. “But I’d like her to be her own woman. She’s my friend, like you are.”
      “To friends,” said Cera, lifting her cup, and they toasted with her.
      “Right, I guess we should get some sleep,” he said, rising from his seat. “The trolls move at dawn and we’ll have a long day ahead of us. Night, ladies.”
      “Goodnight, Master,” said Thuria.
      “Sleep well, Garadun,” Cera added, then got up with Thuria and retired to their quarters where they undressed and settled in for the night. After the lamps had been put out, Cera snuggled under her sleeping furs, moving closer to Thuria.
      “You like him, don’t you?” Cera whispered with a mischievous smile.
      “Yes, very much,” Thuria whispered back. “He’s been so kind to me.”
      “Would you like him to be your Master? You know, for always?”
      “Oh, yes. He would make a wonderful Master,” said Thuria, then gazed thoughtfully into Cera’s eyes. “But you’d like to be my Mistress, yes?”
     Cera blushed. “How’d you know?”
      “I’m a nymph, I know,” she said with a playful smile. “I like you too, Mistress.” Her hand moved under the covers and caressed Cera’s hip. She lowered her voice even further. “Would you like to make love to me?”
      “Gods, yes,” Cera whispered. “But what about Garadun?”
      “My Master holds back his feelings because he thinks it would be wrong to make love to me because I’m a slave,” said Thuria sadly. “Maybe, someday, I can be his and ease his lonely heart. But I can be yours while we’re together. I like you, Mistress.”
      “I like you too,” said Cera, curling into Thuria’s arms, and one of Cera’s dreams came true as she quietly made love with the gorgeous nymph.