At the end of a long, but not too steep slope, a good 20 minutes from the wanderer’s trolls’ camp and sparsely covered by trees, Haki and Blood Tusk were creeping along a furrow in the ground. A small stream flowed in it, flowing into a very small waterhole a short distance ahead, from which it continued flowing as a brook. Wild animals liked to come here to drink, as they were doing now.

  A male ocelot allowed himself a refreshing drink and was intent on dipping his tongue into the fresh water. Because of the similarity of its silver-gray fur to that of the Diamond Lions, although the ocelot’s fur was typically thin, fine and interspersed with stripes and spots, the medium-sized animals were called Gallacats. They were seen as heirs to this bloodline.

  But Blood Tusk only saw a roast over the fire, while he gripped the pole of his Bisentos tighter. Haki had used her modest but sufficient blacksmithing skills to make a pole that was suitable for his size. In the same way, a shoulder pad made of several layers of thick leather, studded with royal alligator teeth, was stretched over the giant’s right shoulder, and he also wore protective leather on his arms and shins. He had even had troll war paint applied to his chest and face in white, as he was familiar with it from his days in the arena. The ocelot by the water was still unsuspecting, because at least in less dense terrain like this, Blood Tuske was gradually learning to walk in silent steps. At least as long as it was as slow as it was now and he prepared to throw his arm. Suddenly, the sound of a bat parrot shrilled through the air, causing Blood Tusk to do more than just make a lousy throw.

  As if struck by lightning, the ocelot dashed off before the bisento could arrive.

  “Blunder!” Kriz’kriz sneered from a tree. She had made the sound. ’That has to get better.”

  Blood Tusk snorted in frustration and looked up at the bird. ’I would have made it if you hadn’t done that.”

  “Nargh, a hunter must be prepared for anything. The jungle does not forgive.”

  Haki nodded curtly, smirking, because those were her words, too. “She’s right.”

  “That means we’re not mating now,” Blood Tusk stated soberly. This system of reward and learning had paid off in the last few weeks.

  “I mean,” Haki pricked up his ears. She hadn’t considered this fact and had thus shot herself in the foot, so she sought an excuse. ”You did well until the throw... and I’m in the mood. We can do a little.”

  “You mate completely or not at all. There’s no halfway.”

  “Males are always so simple,” Haki sighed as she stretched proudly. ”You’d rather not take anything than take a little?”

  “No one’s saying we can’t at all. It’s just because of d-,” said Blood Tusk, when suddenly there was a very loud crashing sound that completely eclipsed Kriz’kriz’s previous scream.

  The two trolls winced and looked up the slope, where an avalanche of tree trunks was heading towards them. The wood also tore up stones and earth.

  Blood Tusk rushed ahead of Haki, driven by his primal instincts. He dropped his weapon and caught the first thick tree trunk with both hands to lift it over his head. He stopped the next one completely and held it above him. He blocked another one with his knee, but there were far too many of them, and they were coming very fast.

  You couldn’t see anything anymore, just because of the immense dust cloud that covered the furrow and watering hole.

  Kriz’kriz took off hastily before their tree was hit and the bat-parrot couldn’t see anything of the trolls anymore. Where the watering hole was, the jungle had buried everything under a massive pile that not even an elephant could have escaped.

  This deafening noise had echoed through a large part of the surrounding jungle and even the wanderers in their camp had been startled in places.

  The smallest whelps whined in fright and their mothers had to calm them down, while older puppies guessed with big question marks. “A tiki roared!” said a boy.

  Sa’Thuk, whose severed arm had so far grown back to the elbow, sat unnerved at his resting place, surrounded by his new females. “Sounds like something that huge idiot did.”

  “Sounds more like a landslide,” Mejhek guessed. He was also sitting there eating fried strips of meat out of a bowl.

  “That’s what I’m saying, something that filthy thing would do.”

  “I guess so,” Mejhek grinned gleefully. Next to him, he still had a tattered piece of parchment on which rough drawings of the jungle and prominent landmarks could be seen. ”But as I said, I think there are some not too deep gorges and some narrow tributaries stretching in a north-south direction. If we follow them, we might find an ideal place to settle there: water, hunting grounds, protection from the natural courses and heights of the gorges, as well as the surrounding jungle. There are sure to be iron and other ore sources there, as well as clay thanks to the rivers.”

  “I would be surprised if no other tribe settled nearby,” Sa’Thuk said thoughtfully. To him, the risk seemed high, although the enormous profit was an incentive. ”It seems too tempting.”

  “Well, I can take a few scouts to take a closer look. That’s not the problem.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Sa’Thuk shook his head. His recently expanded group made everything more difficult, though. He knew it wasn’t just about more resources, but they were also slower and more conspicuous, jungle or not. ”But if there are other trolls there and they notice you, they could follow your trail and become very dangerous for us. We are less mobile than before.”

  “Then I’ll make sure that no one notices us if there is someone there. You know that we have been here far too long and that is even more dangerous.”

  “Let me worry about that,” Sa’Thuk dismissed the objection. He knew his comrade-in-arms was right, but he wanted to demonstrate enough self-assurance and strength for his tribe. ”But if you tell me you can do it, I’ll send you with a few trolls.”

  “I will succeed.”

  “Then that’s how it will be. Choose two scouts, take what you need, and be on your way.”

  Mejhek took another handful of meat strips and stuffed them into his mouth with a smacking sound. “Good. See you in a few days,” he replied and set off with the map.

  Djar’Ku, however, was not in this relaxed mood when he came in a few minutes later, speaking quietly but tensely. “Sa’Thuk, we have a problem!”

  Sa’Thuk looked at the troll first before noticing how a slow restlessness took hold of the camp and many trolls went to the ruined walls. ‘What’s going on?’ he murmured softly.

  “The Redshards... their scouts have found us.”

  “Are you sure?!“, Sa’Thuk asked, as he rose quickly.

  “They are standing at the edge of the jungle and demand a meeting.”

  “A meeting?!”, Sa’Thuk replied suspiciously. “Why don’t they just attack? Do they want to mock us?!”

  “That is not important,” Djar’Ku clarified and beckoned the leader to follow him. ”Come on.”

  Sa’Thuk nodded and went with the old troll. He saw not only every warrior at arms and also the still present Mejhek. Even fathers and mothers had taken up spears, axes and knives, ready to defend themselves against the approaching enemies.

  These were the Redshards, and in a row, the eleven trolls held their position loosely beyond the meadow. Their name came from the fact that they either used the bones of their enemies as handy javelins or smashed them to weave the splinters into the skin on their arms, torso, head and neck. The most deserving tribal trolls had so many bone splinters in their flesh that they wore a braid of splinters at the back of their heads.

  “One thing i must give you Treetamers,” Nastan admitted. He was the only one with an extra braid, though it hadn’t been there for too long, and in addition to his trolls, there were four tame wind-jackals in his ranks. These animals had no fur, but they were extremely good tracking dogs, which were a great help for Nastan’s current presence. “You are hard to find and kill.”

  Treetamers. That had been the name of Djar’Ku’s former tribe and of the trolls, like Haki and Ataz, who were now part of these wanderers.

  “And you have already taken everything from us,” Djar’Ku said darkly. ’Still you want to gnaw the last bit of flesh from the remains of a tribe that no longer exists.”

  “As long as even one of you exists, you will be reborn, no matter what the name will be,’ Nastan replied. Of course he knew that the former Treetamers were only a part of the wanderers, but that didn’t matter to him. To him, these wanderers were now all equal through their union alone, and his own fear, masked by brutal devotion, spoke from him. “And we have promised your tribe our tiki as a sacrifice, for our victory and their glory. Not a single marauder or their new allies may escape or we will face the wrath of the tiki ourselves.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” Sa’Thuk asked. It was more than clear that his group had the advantage and he raised his clenched fist. ”We will gladly slaughter you and offer your hearts to the tiki so that they will grant us their protection!”

  Nastan was the typical, devoutly religious troll, but he was also a devious tactician. “We are only the vanguard,” he said, and that was not a lie. “Even if we had taken you by surprise, we wouldn’t have been able to beat you. That’s why I want to make you... an offer.”

  “What offer?” Sa’Thuk replied unwillingly. ”You want the Death of the Treetamers and will never stop, so we’ll get rid of you first. There is no compromise.”

  “That’s right,” Nastan nodded, before venturing out alone. ”Several Redshard groups are searching for the Treetamers, and every few days we meet at our camp. We are all warriors and 50 in number. More than enough to simply wipe you out.”

  “And if we wipe you out now, they won’t find us so easily.”

  “I still have scouts at a safe distance that you’ll never catch,” Nastan smirked. He stayed far enough away from the camp. ’So don’t be a cave troll.”

  “Then spit it out already – what’s your proposal?”

  “One of mine against one of yours,’ Nastan offered. For him, it was a game he couldn’t lose. However, a fight would mean more effort, just because of the way there and back, and he didn’t feel like that. “If we win, you execute yourselves. That saves us effort and allows you to depart from this world after a death of your choice, before we present your bodies to the Tiki.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “And if we win?”

  “We’ll withdraw and bring reinforcements. That’ll give you several days to run away once more.”

  Sa’Thuk hardly had a choice, but he didn’t trust the red shard. “How many days?”

  “Our meeting place is a hard day’s march from here. It could take several days for all the groups to arrive. That would give you perhaps three to five days.”

  “You lie.”

  Nastan cut the palm of his hand, as Ukha’Teka had done before him. “By the tiki, I swear it: one of yours against one of mine, barehanded, with nothing but hands, tusks and teeth, to the death.”

  Sa’Thuk looked through the ranks of the Red Shards and recognized all of them as warriors, but none of them stood out physically. He therefore felt very confident of victory and joined in the bloody oath by biting his healthy hand. “Agreed,” he agreed, and he could see the same self-assurance and relief in the eyes and voices of his group. “But we have to wait a little. Our fighter is still hunting. We have to get him here.”

  “That’s not a problem,” Nastan nodded, but he started to smirk. ’It’s that huge giant, isn’t it?”

  “Yes...’ Sa’Thuk confirmed, accompanied by a foreboding.

  “Then that is a problem. He was with that tasty female at a watering hole before both were swallowed by the earth itself. Now they share a grave, crushed by trees, stones and everything the jungle has to offer.”

  A slight shock went through the ranks of Sa’Thuk’s wanderers. “Lying bastard,” he growled softly and tensely. He would have liked to fight himself, but with his injury he was too weak at the moment and he was aware of that. “This will not change our victory! Zalun will crush your fighter!”

  The name he mentioned quickly rekindled the wanderers’ hopes. “And how I will!” Zalun agreed. In terms of weapons, he was more of a regular warrior, but he had quite a bit of muscle mass and when it came to wrestling and striking, he was the most robust and strongest fighter after Blood Tusk. “Come on! Show me your fighter!”

  “Of course,” Nastan replied. ”We choose Ku’Ku.”

  One of the Redshards stepped forward. Wearing a tattered poncho and a mask, the troll had not stood out while he had been standing in the ranks, but he walked hunched over as if he were the lowest of them all. He went down on one knee next to the leader of the hunters.

  “Please be careful,” the Zalun female begged him. Next to her were her daughter and son.

  Zalun stroked her cheek and nodded confidently to his whelps. ”I’ll be right back.”

  The other wanderers didn’t waste any words, but they nodded in support of the chosen fighter or brushed his arms as they passed.

  One against one again. The same spectacle was about to happen and yet it was different. This time it wasn’t about claims to leadership and appropriation, but about one of the deepest instincts that every living being had knowledge of - survival. At least for the wanderers. For Nastan and his hunters, it was more of a game, without real consequences and everything went as he wanted it to. Therefore, failure was completely out of the question for him.

  Ku’Ku and Zalun discarded their weapons until only what the tiki had given them was left, and the masked red shard lost no time.

  With arms flailing wildly, Ku’Ku charged towards his target, but the powerful troll simply stood his ground and absorbed the full force of the somewhat smaller troll’s charge.

  The attacker still tried to push the larger Zalun, without success, and he pounded on Ku’Ku’s back with his fists. This weakened the Redshard to such an extent that Zalun was able to clasp him in his arms and throw him powerfully over his head.

  Ku’Ku made a swift jump from a lying position, which got him back on his feet. Apart from his snarling and snorting sounds, he didn’t make a sound. Even as he took blows and kicks, he remained strangely calm. Suddenly, with the next blow, he bit into the Wanderer’s arm and managed to stab one of his claws into the upper torso.

  The immense pain, however, only fueled Zalun’s fire, and after he had pushed the splinter of red away, the two exchanged some hard blows. The wanderer was better, though, as everyone could see, and he knew it. He didn’t make a show of it or play on his superiority forever. First, he grabbed his opponent’s left arm and twisted and broke it at the same time. Then, with a few powerful blows, he smashed part of Ku’Ku’s mask, drawing teeth and spattering blood from the red shard’s face. Accompanied by the cheers of his people, Zalun took his opponent in a headlock and broke his neck.

  Ku’Ku was thrown to the ground like dirt. It was over.

  “Zalun!” Sa’Thuk cheered the warrior’s victory. ’He has won! So you filthy bastards, get out of here right now!”

  Nastan glanced at the motionless Ku’Ku, but he neither moved nor looked like a loser. ’We said to the death.”

  “What more can Zalun do?!“ Sa’Thuk snarled and pointed at the dead man again. ’Tear out his heart?!”

  A diabolical, broad grin spread across Nastan’s mouth. ’Better to rip off his head,” he said, waving his hand as if to resurrect the dead man. “Ku’Ku, time to wake up!”

  The crowd of wanderers stared at the defeated Red Splinter, when his body twitched minimally. Many of them were seized by sheer terror and took a few steps back, because this couldn’t possibly be real.

  With jerky movements, Ku’Ku sat up and as if it were nothing, his twisted arm snapped back into position and the open fracture closed. The Redshard’s head turned back to the right position, causing his damaged mask to fall off, revealing white eyeballs and unnatural stitches all over the troll’s face.

  “What...is this abomination?” Sa’Thuk swallowed. He had never seen anything like it.

  “Ku’Ku once deeply disappointed our tribe and was cursed,” Nastan explained. He was so careless that he even revealed the weakness of the unnatural troll. ”He is a Revenant and they can only be killed by decapitation, but enough words – Ku’Ku, ATTACK!”

  The fact that Zalun was facing an abnormality did not scare him. He fought for his group and he was still stronger than the cursed one, but no matter how much damage he did to his opponent, it did not help him. He did not have the pure strength to rip the Revenant’s head off either, and the longer this staged spectacle went on, the more exhausted he became. He suffered wound after wound, and his family could only watch through tears as he finally went down, injured and broken. He was about to die when Ku’Ku put a foot on his back.

  Terror and resignation spread among the walkers. The rules had been clearly established beforehand, and to disobey them would have been worse than anything. No one wanted to incur the wrath of the tiki

  “Stop, Ku’Ku, I will be merciful,” Nastan instructed disparagingly, and his servant stood still. ”Come on, Zalun. Crawl to your family and take the lives of your wife and children yourself. Consider it a reward for your efforts.”

  “The deal was to the death!” Sa’Thuk said angrily, not caring that it was pointless. ’As long as Zalun is alive, it’s not over.”

  “Oh, so I should deny him the privilege of being with his family one last time?’ Nastan shrugged. ”Have it your way. Ku’Ku, kill-”

  Suddenly, wings beat through the air and before Ku’Ku could step on Zalun’s back again, a cawing Kriz’kriz landed on his back. “In the name of Yani, nargh. This troll’s time is not over yet.”

  All the wanderers took a deep breath when they saw Kriz’kriz and some unconsciously folded their hands in prayer.

  This interference was as strange as it was amusing to Nastan, and after he had thrown a mocking glance back at his hunters, he recognized the translator as Vogel from his observations of the camp. “I recognize you,” Nastan laughed and came closer, leaning down on his knees. “You’re the dead giant’s pet.”

  “His teacher, you art accident! Everyone knows that!”

  “Hehe, teacher, right,” Nastan nodded, but the joke was over for him and the situation was becoming too annoying for him. ”Your reward for the fight, Ku’Ku. Enjoy the bird roast.”

  Kriz’kriz didn’t fly away, which she could easily have done. “Nargh, he doesn’t deserve me,” she fluttered, spreading her wings wide. “Tell your cursed one that he’d better turn around.”

  “You flying toads may be able to talk,” Nastan grumbled. ”But no one ever taught you when to keep your beak shut. Enough of this nonsense!”

  Slowly but not silently, as the trolls of the jungle usually did, a broad, dark-skinned troll foot touched down behind the rows of Redshards, bringing down a branch.

  Actually, it shouldn’t have happened, but the Redshards had been so amused by the farce in front of them that they only now noticed the massive troll behind them and immediately went into a defensive position.

  “Impossible,” Nastan said, his eyes widening in disbelief.

  The same reaction was reflected in the looks of the wanderers, but they didn’t show fear.

  Unimpressed, although covered in dust and scratches, Blood Tusk stood there. He had loosely placed his Bisento over his right shoulder.

  All the Redshards growled and you could even hear the crunching of their hands as they clutched tightly around their weapons.

  Only Nastan, after he had overcome this brief shock, fell back into his pattern. In his opinion, it had already been over. “By all that is sacred to me,” he confessed in good common language, after a deep exhalation. “I don’t know how you can still live, but that doesn’t matter. You’re too late! The wanderers have taken an oath before the tiki and are dead!”

  “They still look alive to me,” Blood Tusk replied dryly and honestly. ’Go away.”

  “Are you deaf?!’ Nastan asked angrily, showing his bloodied hand. ”That was a fight in the name of the tiki and we won! That includes your death! Defy us and you will be cursed forever!”

  If you ignored the fact that Blood Tusk didn’t care about the tiki and that you couldn’t control him with this babbling, there was only one fact of importance to him. “My deal with them was there first, so there’s also something like a word on your tiki. I help them, and they help me,” he said, but the fact that he chose words over iron had exactly the reason he mentioned. By attracting the attention of all the Redshards, Zalun had been able to crawl a little way to safety. ”And now get lost.”

  The giant’s complete and logical ignorance and apparent fearlessness in the face of the tiki made many Redshards more than nervous.

  “You made a deal with them? Good!” Natan roared wildly. ”Then defend them! KILL HIM!”

  Three Redshards pounced on their target from several directions.

  Blood Tusk gripped his Bisento at the bottom for maximum reach. With a deep lungful of air and a swift, violent semicircular swing, his blade cut through all three attackers at the hips in a single stroke.

  This brutal display of strength and violence, marked by spurting blood, paralyzed even the most hardened troll for a few seconds.

  Even as the dismembered parts fell to the ground, Blood Tusk immediately followed suit. The two nearest Redshards were about to hurl clearly poisoned, bone-tipped javelins at him, but he was already familiar with the fighting style of the jungle trolls and recognized the prepared weapons. Before the first Redshard could throw, he lost his head and the second’s throw was blocked by Blood Tusk with his weapon before he cut him down.

  Djar’Ku now thought he understood what Haki must have seen. He had rarely seen such power and speed, but he didn’t know any better, because that was not the power that the gladiator had unknowingly used against the king alligator.

  That was Blood Tusk’s current skill level, with which he now devoted himself to the rest. Ku’Ku leaped at him with a curved sword in his grasp, but Blood Tusk skewered him in the air and carelessly threw the Revenant over his head.

  With the exception of Nastan, the remaining enemies went on the attack, but numbers didn’t matter. Four wind-jackals and four Redshards were no match for the gladiator.

  Blood Tusk blocked, cut, punched, stomped, rammed and dodged. Even when one of the last wind-jackals successfully bit into his left upper arm, the giant continued to fight unhindered. He even used the bloodhound hanging from him and swinging around as a weapon, knocking down trolls.

  Nastan realized immediately what the wanderers only now realized - the giant had been extremely restrained so far.

  Not a single enemy was still alive, except for Nastan and Ku’Ku, who was charging from behind.

  “Look out behind you!” warned Djar’Ku.

  However, Blood Tusk had already noticed the movements and without questioning why Ku’Ku was still alive, he cut him in half with a cross-strike.

  Nastan had nothing and no one left, except for the chance he saw. Ku’Ku’s intervention had distracted the gladiator, so he had run off towards the jungle.

  As if shot by a ballista, Blood Tusk threw his Bisento afterward, and it sank into the back of the fleeing man as he fell to the ground. However, it was not over yet, for Blood Tusk’s ears pricked up attentively.

  Behind him, Ku’Kus’ intestines and body parts were coming back together and, as if guided by ghostly hands, his body was being raised up again.

  Blood Tusk scratched his forehead uncertainly. “Is that a tiki?”

  Djar’Ku hadn’t understood because of the missing translation, but he shouted. ’You have to cut off his head! That’s the only way you can defeat him!”

  Kriz’Kriz also fluttered over the giant. ’His head must come off!”

  “Ah,” Blood Tusk merely nodded. The fact that Ku’Ku was attacking him with a bone dagger was of no consequence to him. The weapon was not laced with poison, and he caught the piercing thrust with the palm of his left hand. With his right hand, he grabbed the Redshard by the other arm and effortlessly forced him to the ground like a small whelp before pressing his knee onto his shoulder blade. Blood Tusk freed his wounded hand from the dagger and placed both hands on the Ku’Kus head, where he began to pull.

  There was no cheering, no sounds of satisfaction, not even the breathing of the wanderers could be heard. They simply watched as the flesh and spine slowly tore and cracked away from Ku’Ku’s body.

  Blood Tusk tore his head from his shoulders and after he dropped it, the gladiator, like the spectators, jerked back a bit.

  Dark vapors and energy emerged and whistled up Ku’Kus’ body and his entire body glowed, whereby his eyes blinked and he looked at the giant. “Thank you...” he breathed in trollish, which the gladiator understood. Now it was really over.

  Only Nastan was still crawling through the grass, badly injured, leaving a red trail behind him, until he caught sight of a new pair of not-quite-so-large troll feet.

  A dirty and battered-looking Haki was standing there, holding two severed heads in her hands. That was the aforementioned back-up from Nastan, who had killed her and whom she now threw in front of him during his last moments.

  Blood Tusk came to her and pulled his bisento out of the dead man when he realized that quite a few trolls from the wanderers, including a badly beaten Zalun and his family, were slowly moving towards him.

  From the branch of a tree, hidden by leaves and shallow shadows, a small, brown-scaled snake had been watching the events. On its back was tied a tiny roll of parchment, with which it disappeared into the thicket of the tree.