The fist was attached to a monstrous creature, he saw, recognizing the beast as a cave troll. The hulking monster, as cold and gray as the very bedrock, had been virtually invisible standing there among the natural columns of the cave. It seemed to move as swiftly as a striking snake, lunging with that punch that could have smashed Nailer’s shoulder or, if it landed against the side of his head, break his neck.
But Brandon had moved even faster. His axe blade, of ancient steel, struck the troll’s arm at the elbow and sliced cleanly through the grotesque, stony flesh. The severed limb knocked Nailer to the side, still, though it was a blow interrupted. The elder dwarf dropped the lantern, which cracked on the stone floor. The spilling oil ignited, offering welcome extra illumination for at least a brief moment. The monster howled and spun around to face Brand, swinging its left hand in a sweeping punch while the flaring light cast its shadow as a gargantuan outline on the cavern wall and ceiling.
The young dwarf ducked, and the troll’s fist only grazed the top of his helmet-yet even that glancing blow stunned Brandon and threw him onto his tail. Knocked breathless, he strained for air and gaped at the troll as it leaped toward him. His nerveless fingers strained to grasp, much less lift, his axe. Brandon’s vision was filled with a ghastly face: slate-gray skin, as jagged as a craggy bluff; two eyes as lightless and deep as cave mouths; a nose that jutted like a spur of rock; and a mouth gaping wide, lined with rows of sharp stalactites and stalagmites.
A heavy hand, cold and hard as granite, pressed against Brandon’s chest, the pressure choking him, and that maw flashed close, foul breath coiling like miasma around the terrified dwarf’s head. Before the fatal bite landed, however, Nailer charged in, landing a blow with his hammer on the troll’s shoulder and knocking the monster to the side. Howling again, a screech that grated on dwarf ears, the beast backed away.
It loomed over the brothers, with its left arm dangling limply from its shattered shoulder. The severed stump of its right arm flailed, but as Nailer swung his hammer again, the troll continued to retreat, backing into a niche between two of the graceful columns masking that side of the cave. Brandon finally caught his breath and jerked to his feet. The two dwarves closed in, but the troll sprang away, the stone-shaped beast again moving with incongruous agility.
“Where in Reorx’s name did it go?” demanded Nailer, following the monster through the gap, halting and peering into the consuming darkness. “There’s all kinds of places to hide back here.”
“We hurt it bad; let’s get after it!” Brandon urged, charging forward, trying to shoulder his way past his brother. He looked at the rocky floor, seeking blood or any other trail sign. There was only the slab of the cave bed, slanting gradually up and away from them. There were at least three dark alcoves in view, any of which could have been a shallow niche or the start of a long side cavern.
“This way!” he guessed, charging toward the middle until Nailer’s strong hand on his shoulder yanked him to a halt.
“Careful,” counseled the older dwarf. “We go together. Get the spare lamp.”
“All right,” Brandon agreed, realizing that the light from the broken lantern was quickly fading as the spilled oil burned away. Quickly he removed the second one, poured some oil from their flask into it, and touched off the wick with the last of the dying flame.
Side by side, the brothers warily advanced up the sloping shelf of rock. Quickly they saw the right-side passage was a mere hollow in the cavern wall, too shallow to conceal a creature the size of the troll. Nevertheless, Nailer insisted they check it out thoroughly, reminding Brandon of the monster’s uncanny concealment prior to the ambush.
That niche proved empty, and the middle passage was only a little deeper and also unoccupied. Still shoulder to shoulder, they advanced into the third opening and quickly found themselves climbing up the winding floor of an ancient dry riverbed. Loose rocks scraped and slipped underfoot, making it impossible to move stealthily. At least the space was wide enough to give them fighting space if they encountered their quarry. Brandon took heart from knowing the troll’s arms were virtually useless.
“By Reorx!” gasped Nailer, suddenly leaping back and bracing his brother with a halting hand. “Is that another one?”
Brandon stared as a looming cave troll, both arms extended, emerged from the shadows before them, charging fast. The two dwarves raised their weapons, and the troll halted, eyeing them with those lightless sockets. They could hear the rasping growl in its chest, smell that familiar stench of its breath. Both hands, tipped with sturdy, flexing claws that looked like flint blades, stretched forward menacingly.
“Look!” Brandon hissed, staring at the creature’s right arm. The limb was extending, the claws growing longer as they stared. “It is the same troll, but its arm grew back!”
“How in the name of the Forge did it do that?” Nailer demanded, backing up a step as the monster loomed closer.
Brandon was worried about more immediate concerns. As the troll sprang, he slashed his axe at its grotesque face, driving the beast back. Nailer closed in, swinging his hammer, but the nimble monster skipped to one side and came at Brandon from another direction, while Nailer was blocked by his brother from bringing his weapon to bear.
Shouting the name of Reorx in the ancient dwarf battle cry, Brandon swung his axe in an overhand blow, the keen blade slicing into that wicked nose. The troll feinted a recoil, and brought its regenerated, powerful right arm around in a wild swing. Claws ripped into the dwarf’s biceps, but he twisted away, using the haft of his weapon to partially parry the blow. He sidestepped so the two brothers could stand side by side, and the troll retreated, leaning forward to brace itself on its hands and long arms.
Abruptly it pounced again, its agile moves reminding Brandon of a feline-a very large, monstrously heavy cat. The troll smashed into the two dwarves, and Brandon went down onto his back. He kicked both feet just as Nailer shouted an agonized cry of pain. The double kick drove hard into the monster’s legs, drawing the troll’s attention back to Brandon and allowing Nailer to push himself along the floor, putting some distance between himself and the beast.
Once more the troll loomed above him, and Brandon held his axe in front of him, trying to ward off the coming blow. Still prone, he didn’t have room to swing the weapon with any force, but the monster hesitated, seeming wary of the keen steel.
“For Reorx and Kayolin!” Nailer’s battle cry echoed through the cave as Brandon’s older brother, limping slightly, lunged to the attack. His hammer smashed into the troll’s back, bringing the creature slashing around to face the new attacker. In that instant Brandon scrambled to his feet.
Finally, he had some room! He brought the axe up, pulled it back, and made a sweeping roundhouse swing into the monster’s side. The blade bit deep, and the troll howled, twisting reflexively. Brandon clutched the haft of his axe and stepped sideways as the troll spun.
The monster’s spin gave Nailer another opening, and he leaped forward, swinging his hammer over his head and smashing the heavy steel weapon into the base of the troll’s skull. Again the beast roared, but then it swayed groggily, trying in vain to strike at either of its tormentors.
Brandon finally pulled his axe free and immediately pounded a lumberjack swing against the troll’s leg. The blade bit deep, and the monster went down to one knee.
Nailer brought his hammer around, bashing the troll’s good knee, and the hulking beast stumbled forward, braced on its hands, its head swaying dazedly. Already the wound in its side, where Brandon’s blade had bitten so deeply, was starting to close up, healing before the dwarves’ horrified eyes.
But Brandon didn’t let up. He raised his axe again and chopped down hard, slicing halfway through the creature’s neck. The monster went down, thrashing, and the dwarf made a second chop. Then the troll’s head tumbled free, rolling like a rock until it came to a rest on the stump of its neck. The soulless eyes gaped as dark and as wickedly as they had in life, but the great body at last lay still.
“Nice chopping,” Nailer grunted, clapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Brandon felt the older dwarf’s weight, remembering that he’d been limping. “Are you all right?”
Nailer grinned at the troll’s head and nodded. “Never better,” he said cheerfully.
“What are you so happy about?” Brandon sputtered. “We could have died! Did that thing conk your brains around in your skull?”
The younger Bluestone followed his brother’s gaze and let out a whoop of joy. “I see what you mean!” he said, stepping forward and moving around the decapitated head. He was staring down at a thick vein of bright yellow metal, a line of gold running like a seam through the bedrock of the deep cave. He said the words he knew his brother was thinking.
