It was risky, but the wanderers had broken camp and were fully packed and on their way in the direction that Mejhek had previously suggested, with self-made wooden sleds full of supplies and equipment. Sa’Thuk’s close associate was a day’s journey ahead, as a scout and trailblazer who had marked safe paths.

  The group of 62 trolls followed them, but the procession was not a compact mass. It was a line about 100 meters long, consisting of five to seven trolls every few meters in the moderate vegetation of this area. The center was formed mainly by the females and their whelps. After that came the few old ones, workers, and at the front and at the end the warriors, as well as some scouts away from the train.

  Blood Tusk was at the back of the line, but without Haki. She was at the front. The giant walked with the two warriors who had belonged to Ukha’Tekas group, a male and a younger female, as well as Zalun.

  The family man was the only one who had volunteered to bring up the rear and work with the still-strange warriors, since he felt deeply, if not forever, in Blood Tusk’s debt and did not want to leave the giant alone with the strangers.

  For Blood Tusk, it was very unusual, even annoying, how much Zalun’s family wanted to help him in the last two days. Be it with sewing, new battle armor, cleaning and sharpening his weapon, cooking and other odds and ends. He just didn’t understand it. He was used to being paid for a victorious fight, but he had only kept to the agreement, and sincere gratitude in this form was a mystery to him.

  “Why do you actually use that weapon?” Zalun asked, looking at the gladiator’s bisento.

  “It’s a good weapon, you can do a lot with it,” Blood Tusk replied in Trollish. When he had first become a pit of flesh in the arena as a young troll, he had used a shield and a battle-axe, though, and other weapons. But none of them had really suited him until the pucks advised him to use this one. ”Pucks have given me. Said fits grainy.”

  “Grainy?”

  Kriz’kriz preened her feathers on the giant’s shoulder. “Fits grainy?” she asked, amused, in Common. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Grainy?” said Bloody Tusk, looking at the bird. “That sounds stupid.”

  “That’s what I said, you just said it.”

  “No, I said king.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Kriz’kriz croaked, and she pecked him once in the ear before correcting the incorrect trollish. ’He meant king.”

  “Ah, king,’ Zalun marveled. Suddenly, the Bisento seemed to make a lot more sense to him. ”And the pucks said that suits you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe those little creeps know a little history,” Zalun said thoughtfully. He was a warrior and not a scholar, but as such he had also been around a bit. ”I’ve seen some ruins that tell of ancient times. The very first troll king had exactly the same weapon, and after his death it was the custom for his bodyguards to carry the same weapon.”

  Far from any social graces, Blood Tusk didn’t mask his disinterest with politeness, but he wasn’t rude either. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Well, the pucks must have had a plan. They love the show in their arenas and I thought you’d be pleased to hear that you carry the same weapon as the first troll king.”

  “Why should I be pleased? It doesn’t do me any good. I’m just as strong now as I was before.”

  “Eh, yes, of course,” Zalun nodded a little embarrassed. He too was not used to his gratitude and especially his admiration for a troll being so easily dismissed, because, like the tiki, respect and esteem were of great importance to trolls. ”But speaking of pucks, how long will you be accompanying us?”

  “Until you’re safe.”

  “And... how will you decide when that is?”

  “Djar’Ku will tell me for sure,” Blood Tusk said. He deliberately left out Haki after learning that she had lied and no longer trusted her. He had actually wanted to address her directly about it, but after the two had finished and he had said that, Nira’theba had asked him to at least wait until they reached the next safe resting place. Blood Tusk didn’t understand why things couldn’t just be addressed. According to Nira'thebas words, it was about keeping the peace, which is why she had made him promise to remain silent for the time being. Nira’theba had told him that sometimes it was called a favor, but in the end it was just more playing between these jungle trolls, which he didn’t like at all. “And I think the new place Sa’Thuk was talking about will be where you are safe.”

  “That would be nice,” Zalun said wearily. The months of wandering and all the dangers, as well as the recent events, were slowly taking their toll on him and the other trolls. ”You see, my female is newly pregnant and I want my family to have a refuge.”

  “Why just so few?”

  “So few?”

  “Few... w-why so few?”

  “So few what?”

  “Whelps,” Bloody-Axe asked, more out of amazement than genuine curiosity. ’Not enough mating?”

  “It’s certainly not that,’ Zalun laughed. ”It just takes time for the whelp to come.”

  “There are more females.”

  “Ma’rhia is my bonded mate and I only want her,” Zalun confessed. Polygamy was not unusual among trolls, but there were also those who lived in monogamy, like him and his wife. ”Do you have many whelps then?”

  “Made a lot, definitely,” Blood Tusk mentioned as a simple fact and not boastfully. ’Always get females in the arena.”

  “So that’s it! You want to go back to the arena because you have a huge family there.”

  “No.”

  “No? Don’t you care about them?’ Zalun feared, although another suspicion crept up on him.

  “Don’t care about what? Never saw whelps, always other females.”

  “So, the pucks take them away from you?“ Zalun asked grumpily. He seemed to be right that the pucks used the giant as a breeding troll.

  “No idea what pucks do,” Blood Tusk said. He lacked any kind of attachment, so he was completely detached from this topic. “Females only come, want children. pucks can’t take what I don’t have. Whelps belong to the females.”

  The strange warrior female that was walking in the rear had had mixed feelings about the conversation for quite some time and now looked particularly annoyed.

  “But why do you let them?” Zalun insisted. He couldn’t understand how such a mighty troll could be kept so low. ’You should slaughter the pucks and offer them the tiki!”

  “Why?”

  “Wh-why, why, why?’ Zalun faltered, slightly shocked. ”You’re their father! It’s your duty!”

  “I’m an arena fighter,” Blood Tusk countered, stagnant. How could he think otherwise? In a way, he was what the jungle trolls called him: impure, soulless, without understanding and a lot of empathy, although he was anything but cold. The giant was a troll, trained from an early age to fight for gold, perfected to witness flesh, without ever having had the good fortune to experience a wise father, a loving mother, the warmth of a flock of siblings and life among his own kind as a tribe. “Must win to live. That is my duty.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  To say that Zalun was angry and looked angry would have been an understatement. As a loving father, this statement hit him particularly hard, and yet he thought that it could not be entirely true. The giant had saved his family, him and the group, and that could not have been just for the sake of a trade. He recalled the words of the gladiator when Ukha’Tekas’ group had asked to join them: “Troll is troll.” Those couldn’t be the words of an indifferent protector, and perhaps the tiki wanted Zalun to repay him for the rescue by teaching him about family. “Probably right. You have to win to live. An important lesson that builds on everything.”

  “Don’t want to talk about it,“ Blood Tusk grumbled. There was just way too much talk for him.

  “Sure,” Zalun replied, but his resolve and conviction remained unchanged. He owed the giant and he would repay the debt.

  Far more obsessed by the gladiator, but still far out of his reach, Zu’ji had been sitting for several hours in the new, openly visible prayer hut that had been completed in her village. On her knees, hands folded over them, she rested with her eyes closed in front of the small altar of Haruk’Zil. In front of and below her face was a wall of light vapors from incense sticks and herbs burning in bowls, which she inhaled meditatively.

  Curious villagers from the river teeth, young and old, watched the priestess spellbound and captivated by her presence. Many wondered if the all-seeing serpent would send her an interpretation - a vision, a good sign for the tribe. Perhaps Haruk’Zil would even whisper something into her ear, which was not so unlikely for some, considering the favor that the tiki had shown the Riverfangs during the trials.

  Today, Zu’ji had sensed a strange attraction to the new altar. She had already inaugurated it a few days ago, which is why she suspected that this feeling had been a new sign from her tiki. Spongy images kept trying to manifest themselves before her mind’s eye, as if a painter were swinging the brush.

  Trees, an endless number of trees and a wide river could be seen from above. Without doubt, this was the Diamond Jungle. But soon, swirls in the air formed a fleetingly visible claw and they scratched uncontrollably through the entire landscape. On the one hand, natural depressions were created, while the scraped-out earth had formed continuous ridges.

  This reminded Zu’ji very much of what it had all started with. Yes, she was quite sure that she saw the Underwood Furrow in front of her and with this certainty, her vision changed.

  The tips of the blades of grass in a meadow were speckled with blood. It looked as if a fierce battle had taken place, and eleven troll skulls hung on spears stuck into the ground. Their decapitated bodies were full of bones woven into the skin and they all lay scattered, but at his feet. There he stood: Victorious, triumphant and as magnificent as ever – Blood Tusk. Behind him were blurred but numerous troll figures and together with him, they began to wander.

  Drenched in the sweat of strenuous concentration, Zu’ji exhaled slowly and opened her eyes. Were her thoughts correct? Was the ancestor somewhere in or near the Underwood Furrow? And who were the dead trolls? She did not remember knowing this distinctive feature of the bones. In any case, she needed to think and rose to leave the temple.

  A few of the onlookers approached the herbalist without saying a word. They merely bowed their heads and presented their hands in supplication.

  Zu’ji remained silent, but as she passed the trolls she touched the back of each one’s head, thus assuring them of Haruk’Zil’s favor.

  The power of the tiki had continued to grow within the river teeth recently. A lot of trolls had turned to the all-seeing snake, with many of them being completely new to the tribe.

  Two smaller groups of wanderers had learned about the events at the Circle of Tears and begged for an audience, which Tok’Moji had granted. Even a smaller tribe of 120 trolls had volunteered for the same reason and been annexed. Another small tribe, however, had recently been crushed by the Riverfangs, with all the surviving males killed and only the females allowed to join them. For that, they had to sacrifice their whelps and many had committed this cruel act for the sake of survival. For Tok’Moji, this demand had been a clear signal of strength, as well as the cleansing of weak blood and the prevention of revenge by the whelps for their slain fathers.

  The influx of new trolls had not only provided more huts around Zu’ji’s home. A new village had been erected near the Underwood furrow and she had made sure that Haruk’Zil’s followers were in the majority. “You’re here,” Zu’ji greeted her after entering her own hut. “I assume that means you have the gift ready?”

  “Yes,” Majanie nodded. She held a small stone bowl with a lid in her hands. “Who is it intended for?”

  “For Suara,” Zu’ji mentioned. She received the small bowl and removed the lid only enough to create a millimeter-wide gap, and she sniffed it fleetingly. Immediately, a pleasant shiver ran over her. ”Yes, a perfect gift for her.”

  “She’s pregnant already,” Majanie smirked. What she had concocted there was a very difficult to produce, extremely stimulating aphrodisiac, in the form of a scented candle. ”And I think her mate would rather waste it on other females than to satisfy his urges with her.”

  “Well, it’s not meant for him either,” Zu’ji said, amused and making plans. ”But first of all - are you really sure that only Ine’kata and Suara know that she is expecting?”

  “Yes, I’m absolutely sure.”

  “Good, because this is crucial,” Zu’ji emphasized, putting down the bowl. ”Unfortunately, she hasn’t approached me yet to thank me for this blessing. Call her to me, and I will give her the gift and tell her how she can thank me.”

  “That must be a most interesting thanks,” Majanie smirked again, mischievously. ’What are the juicy details?”

  “Well, they depend, among other things, on catching the best time,’ Zu’ji noted. With Suara, she had an ear at the tip, but more came to her mind. She wanted to get the female to the top right away. “Does she still regularly visit Ine’kata and Tok’Moji to enjoy a supper with them?”

  “Even as the high priest’s only female, she has to show presence,” Majanie confirmed. She looked at the bowl suspiciously, not sounding convinced. “Are you trying to replace Ine’kata?”

  “Not at all,” Zu’ji shook her head. If there was one thing she definitely didn’t want, it was a competing female in the leadership hierarchy. ’Ine’kata and Suara are very good friends. It’s probably time for them to deepen their bond and for Suara to understand how a real male treats his female.”

  “You want the three of them to...’?

  “Exactly.”

  “That sounds risky,” Majanie pointed out. She knew a lot about the La’Jatal. ”I think you underestimate the friendship between the two. Ine’kata doesn’t tolerate competition and even if the three of them would sweep through the fur all night long because of the candle, she would scratch Suara’s eyes out afterwards.”

  “Not if we offer our wise words and protective hands.”

  Majanie lowered her eyes in shame. “Forgive me, but this is one of the few occasions when I can’t follow you.”

  “What I mean is that we will make sure that Ine’kata in particular understands that it should be so,” Zu’ji said. In this case, she was talking about claiming a very impressionable jatal as her own. ”We have to help her get used to the idea that our Jatal might want a second female at his side ... one that he should believe he has blessed with his seed.”

  “I realize your intention now, only Ine’kata already knows that Suara is pregnant,” Majanie noted. Even if her mistress managed to prevent Ine’kata from opposing Suara, she was convinced of one thing. ”How is Tok’Moji supposed to think that this would be his whelp when Ine’kata corrects him?”

  “Wise words that feed a hungry ego,” Zu’ji murmured cryptically before she expressed herself more clearly. ”The La’Jatal loves to be above everyone more than anything. We will share our knowledge with her about the ancestor and how important her help is for the future of our tribe if she keeps this little secret.”

  “And ... that Suara will bear such a special whelp? That would most certainly touch Ine’kata’s ego.”

  Zu’ji was ruthless towards anyone who didn’t comply. “If she doesn’t want to understand her role and defies the all-seeing serpent, then maybe she will be replaced after all. My primary concern, for the time being, is to ensure that we can influence Tok’Moji a little more and, if possible, get rid of Banjhan in the process.”

  “Yes, I was wondering where the old priest was in all of this,” Majanie noted. Nevertheless, she was a little surprised at the adaptation of her mistress’s plans. ”Just tell me, may I ask why you are changing your plans? We have already won Suara over to Haruk’Zil and established ourselves in the leadership. Why this rather aggressive approach now?”

  “Because we’re lagging behind,” Zu’ji sighed, annoyed. The fact that the Jungleshadows and Crystalmugs had been involved in the greater plans of Haruk’Zil for some time now simply didn’t let her go, and she wanted to prove herself to her tiki more than just like a female who wanted to reside at the side of her lover. “I have told you about the things Varakaz and Nejara have already set in motion. Great things are coming and we have to speed things up a little. It bothers me that Haruk’Zil only called us in at the end, when our part is supposed to be so important.”

  Majanie hesitated to speak, as her mistress was plagued by slight doubts about her tiki. “W-we shouldn’t question the all-seeing serpent’s approach,” she said, her eyes always shifting to the side. “And I once heard an old troll say that the best always comes at the end.”

  Zu’ji approached her student with fixed eyes. The herbalist should have doubts? She didn’t see it that way! “I’m not questioning, I’m just trying to understand,” she said tensely. She also reached for her hip, where Zu’ji had a pair of shrunken heads, and held them next to her student’s face. These heads were the heads of the trolls that had followed her to her gsecret meeting and that had been caught by the Jungleshadows. “And which old troll said that?”

  With her shoulders hanging and looking at the ground, or rather at the feet of the herb witch, Majanie murmured softly. ”I-I forgot his name. He was just a simple blacksmith and he said it didn’t matter who stoked the fire, who beat the heated iron or who got the cold sword. To land the decisive blow, that’s the only thing that matters in the end.”

  For a moment, and close to her student’s body, Zu’ji put her fingers around her throat and she considered choking her. She smelled her, smelled the sweat, the fear, the humility and the witch of herbs let out a satisfied sigh. “When this is all over,” she breathed. Instead of choking her, she pushed her servant’s head aside to honor her with a kiss and to run her tongue over her skin, tasting. “You will be most rewarded of all the others.”

  Majanie trembled all over. It was fear and excitement at the same time. “I should see Suara so that we can prepare her for her task...”