To say it hadn’t been easy would have been an understatement. When Haki had shown up with Djar’Ku at the cave, Blood Tusk’s first reaction had been very hostile and he had been ready to fight. Too many bad experiences with jungle trolls had made the gladiator more than just cautious towards them and it had taken quite an effort, in sign language, to convince him otherwise. Djar’Ku had been more than skeptical, too, though. He had the experience and the age, so he was more level-headed and tired of constant fighting, but decades of learned racism and hostility towards foreign trolls also weighed on him.
In addition, Djar’Ku had doubts about the miracle that had been described to him. “It’s a mystery to me how this troll has survived so far,” he said. In every tensing of the gladiator’s muscles, in every step he took, the old warrior recognized insecurity. “Like a whelp, he stumbles over the ground, touching everything and inhaling every scent as if he knew nothing. Strength and power alone won’t help you survive.”
The three of them were on their way to Ja’Jen and had been traveling for two days. They would have been much faster, though, if Blood Tusk hadn’t been so slow for the reasons mentioned. The giant was just not used to the jungle and whenever the others spoke in trollish, he gave them a warning look.
“All the more reason to believe that there is something divine about him,” Haki said with conviction. She couldn’t deny that the giant seemed lost, but she thought that maybe it was a test. Maybe he wanted to see if she and Djar’Ku treated him properly, if they were worthy of his protection or if they understood that you had to constantly adapt to survive. There were so many possibilities for Haki as to why the gladiator acted the way he did.
None of that mattered to Blood Tusk. He simply had no idea and followed the two because he had no other choice. At least it was the first time that he was able to walk through the jungle alertly and without chains, so he gave the trolls a chance.
“At least there is something in him,” Djar’Ku laughed dirty. He didn’t carry his wide katana on his back. Instead, it was tied to a short rope and the old troll dragged it behind him, leaving no visible trail. “Every free female in our group of breeding age will pounce on him. Perhaps he was sent to us only to produce a strong new generation. He seems extremely simple.”
“Like almost all males,” Haki raised the corners of her mouth. However, this was reversed when she saw a clear mark. ’We’re close, aren’t we?”
“Yes,’ Djar’Ku nodded curtly. ”The sign of Yani.”
Several dark stones were piled on top of each other, getting smaller towards the top, so that they formed a column almost 2 meters high. In white paint, warnings in trollish, but also the characters of Yani, had been painted on them and the similarly drawn symbol that embodied him formed the head of the column - the skull of an elephant, studded with huge tusks and holey ears.
Strangely, Blood Tusk was drawn to this column, or was it just curiosity that made him marvel at this work of art. He even touched it.
“SPirits,” Haki swallowed, touching her heart. The fact that this giant, without the slightest spark of fear, touched a symbol of Yani, filled her with fear and at the same time increased her respect for him, just as she felt safe. ”He seems to know Yani.”
“Or maybe he doesn’t even fear him,” Djar’Ku wondered. He also felt respect for this act. ’Maybe he is our miracle after all. Let’s go see Ja’Jen so we can finally get some certainty.”
“Yes, let’s get it over with,’ Haki agreed, before she gently took the gladiator’s arm and nodded for him to move on.
Fresh spring water gushed out of a small crack in the rock and flowed as a narrow stream along the walkable, but not completely flat ground. In the surrounding area, huge jungle trees towered up, enclosing this idyllic-looking piece of almost flat ground like a protective wall in a semicircle. In one corner, there was a vegetable garden enclosed by a cane fence, next to a round hut made of woven wood and straw, which stood on a wooden foundation and behind which there was a cliff with a drop of a good 50 meters. Not too large fruit trees, with oranges, bananas or papayas hanging from them, stood lonely and scattered around, and a band of three monkeys was climbing up the papaya tree. The animals were not even 60 centimeters tall and they had short-haired, cream-colored fur. Each monkey eagerly picked a papaya, but only two of them took a bite out of their fruit before the three of them jumped down from the tree together and dashed across the area.
Near a shelter that covered an alchemical workbench, two bat-parrots sat on a homemade perch and cawed softly. “No, no,” said one of the birds in trollish. One of the two peculiarities of these animals was that their backs and the upper sides of their wings had the typical plumage of a bird. Its feathers were as green as a lime, whereas it had a long lizard’s tail and its belly and the underside of its wings were completely leathery and scaly. ”Wrong vial.”
With his back to the parrots, a troll of about fifty groped his way along a shelf that was part of the workbench. “Hm, this, then?” he asked. His voice was hoarse, smoky and soothing, but it had a certain slang to it.
“Much better,” the batparrot squeaked and it flew onto the troll’s shoulder, which was covered by a bone, which served as a new perch. ”A lot of trolls are dying, yes?”
“Many go, many come. That’s the circle,” said the troll, whose head was completely shaved and painted with a white stripe. With one hand, he took a vial of viscous goo, which was part of an embalming paste, and with the other, he snatched a nut to feed the bird. It became clear that the troll not only had bones on his shoulders. Real finger bones lay like a one-sided glove over his hands and they were sewn together with a connecting bone over the forearm, to the upper arm, up to the shoulders. It continued over his back, with four thick spinal bones on each side, over which dark fabric billowed as if he were wearing a cloak or, rather, a tattered flag over his back. “But yes, more will come to beg Yani’s mercy and protection again in a few days.”
“Yani never forgets,“ croaked batparrot number two, with a juicy orange plumage, and he flew away.
“Yani never forgets,” repeated the bird on the troll’s shoulder. Its kind didn’t just repeat words, though. Batparrots had a memory and enough intelligence to hold simple conversations. “Yani never forgets.”
“Just like you,” the Yani priest smirked as he mixed the ingredients for the embalming paste. The faded blue of his fur had been clearly covered by a fine, anthracite gray dust, which was spread all over his body. When the three monkeys appeared on the table, he stopped mixing. ”Is that for me?”
The monkey that hadn’t touched his papaya held it out to the troll. After the priest had accepted the fruit, he broke it into two pieces and the monkey got his share, which he ate happily.
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“Yes, you are a very fine one,” the troll praised the little monkey. The other apes protested a little, so he quickly appeased them. “Of course you are, too. My sweet, eager helpers.” This statement of his was enough for the other apes to join in the joy.
“Ja’Jen, Ja’jen,” the orange batparrot came flying back to the bird perch. ”Strangers are near. Strangers are coming.”
The Yani priest remained calm as he tipped the mixed mass into a lockable box. “Then let’s greet them,” he said, reaching for his staff. It was carved out of hard wood and as big as Ja’Jen, but in terms of color and appearance, it looked like a real bone. Three miniature troll skulls were carved into its pommel, their lower jaws missing and tiny bones hanging from them like wind chimes. Now that the priest turned away from the alchemy workbench, the mask over his face became all the more pronounced. The intricately carved piece was also made of hardwood, but it looked deceptively like the skull of an elephant, complete with its tusks. Below that, Ja’Jen’s medium-length tusks curled slightly to the side and upward, and the eye sockets of the mask were completely dark, as if they were an endless, deep hole. The front of his upper body was uncovered and he wore a robe that opened at the front and lay over his sides. The staff served as a support for the priest, but even when he moved gently and leisurely, the troll did not appear to be dependent on it as he moved around his property.
It was a bit cloudy and one of the sunbeams shone exactly on the little paradise of the Yani priest. However, this glow was in contrast, because although this place radiated so much warmth, its boundaries were also adorned with the erected stone columns of the tiki of death, and from the otherwise so green, lush grass, individual gravestones decorated with trollish writing and partially overgrown with vines, stood out. In the center of these graves stood a covered shrine of Yani, accessible from all sides. It was adorned with dozens of lit and extinguished candles, and each of the four cardinal directions was covered with a symbolic elephant skull of the tiki.
Light shone ever more clearly through the overgrown trees of the diamond jungle, revealing the home of Ja’Jen to the approaching group around Bloodtusk. For some time now, and the closer they came to their destination, the more often they encountered the scarecrows they had set up. However, these were not dolls made of straw or cloth, but the remains of trolls, none of which were fresh. All of them were either dried up, bones with bits of flesh, or just skeletons.
“How many have we seen so far?“ Haki asked when they came upon the next remains at an X-crossed pole.
“That’s number 13,” Djar’Ku replied, bowing his head before the dead one, as he had before with all the others. “And these are only the ones we saw on our way. There are probably three or four times as many.”
“So it’s proof that all the stories about voodoo sorcerers are true,” Haki concluded, and she stopped walking. They didn’t want to carry their legs much further.
Djar’Ku noticed that and looked at her. “I would say that these are warnings for visitors and they say ‘Behave or be silent forever’,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “We are in his territory. I think turning back now would be a greater insult to him and more reason for him to put us on a stake as well.”
“Probably right,” Haki nodded slowly. The young troll female was reassured by the experience and self-assurance of age. ’Let’s show him the respect he deserves.”
“Yes, and maybe our giant friend...’ Djar’Ku broke off his sentence when he looked forward again and someone was missing. ”Where did our miracle go?”
“Look at the ground. He’s probably gone further.”
“Wow, he’s not afraid and he’s fast and silent. We’d better catch up,” Djar’Ku said, but he and Haki didn’t have to go too far. As soon as they had the last trees in front of them, they saw not only the giant.
On a boulder about 2 meters high, Ja’Jen was sitting in a squat, with one hand on his staff. Although his eyes were hidden by the blackness of his mask, it was clear that his gaze was fixed entirely on Blood Tusk.
The giant returned the eye contact, motionless and silent, while Djar’Ku and Haki approached cautiously and politely from behind, bowing.
Ja’Jen, however, studied the giant for a few moments longer before granting the other trolls a brief acknowledgement.
Haki and Djar’Ku knew what was expected of them and they looked at the priest expectantly. If he felt like speaking, he would speak first.
However, the Yani priest did not feel like talking yet. He reached for the staff with his second hand, as if he felt a close connection when looking at Blood Tusk again, and noticed that the gladiator had no conspicuous markings or other tribal identifying marks.
“Who are you?” the giant asked outright.
Neither Haki nor Djar’Ku understood the gladiator, but they still gave him a disbelieving look when he dared to open the conversation.
For a fleeting moment, surprise could be seen in the body language of the Yani priest. “They call me Ja’Jen,” he introduced himself in the common tongue. “What do they call you?”
“Blood Tusk.”
“An unusual name. It sounds more like a title. However, it is remarkable that you have mastered the common language so well,” Ja’Jen said, slightly impressed. However, he had more than one reason to take such a sincere interest in the strange troll. ”Not many trolls can even do that. You seem to be very educated and your strength is obvious.”
“Strength alone is not enough to escape this jungle.”
“Escape the jungle?” Ja’Jen asked, leaning forward. ”Why would a troll like you want to escape the jungle? Who else but you could tame and subdue it?”
Lacking any interest in doing so, Blood Tusk returned his blatant opinion dully. “Why would I want to?”
“Because you can.”
“So?”
“Interesting,” Ja’Jen murmured. He hadn’t expected that answer, but he was surprised at the silence of the other trolls. “I take it your companions don’t have the benefit of common tongue?”
Blood Tusk looked back. “They speak the same weird language as many trolls in this jungle.”
“Weird language...” Ja’Jen realized. Perhaps he had misjudged the giant in terms of education, and the Yani priest spoke in trollish. “You two have been patient, but now it is time for us to introduce ourselves as well. I am Ja’Jen.”
Haki had found the courage to enter the home of the Yani priest. Still, she turned her head quickly to Djar’Ku, who nodded at her and stepped forward. “This is Haki and I am Djar’Ku. We belonged to the same tribe, but right now we are wanderers.”
Ja’Jen nodded in understanding. Among the trolls, wanderer was a term for those who had no tribe and tried to find or create a new one. “And what brings you and this huge, death-bringing troll to me?” he asked, joking calmly. “Or did the two of them guide you here on your last journey? Would you like to be embraced by Yani?”
“If it is my time, then yes,” Djar’Ku replied without fear but respectfully. ’If not, I should probably send more trolls to Yani.”
“Mhh, mhh,’ Ja’Jen hummed. He gripped his staff tighter and shook it, making the tiny bones clatter under the troll skulls, before stopping abruptly. “You have served the Jatal of the Dark Sea well and resisted its grip for a long time.” This was not just religious talk for Ja’Jen, for he could see many things that remained hidden from normal eyes, and in the following, he even sounded slightly disgusted. ”Yes, yes, even now, there is still a little life in you. He does not seem to want you – not yet.”
“After that’s been cleared up,” Djar’Ku dismissed the death offhand. ”I’m not the main focus here anyway. We came to you to learn more about our mysterious giant, because we don’t speak his language, but we had heard that you do.”
“So that’s it, and he can’t speak ours either?”
“Exactly.”
“Mhh and how did you came across this fine specimen?” Ja’Jen asked curiously. The Yani priest suspected that wanderers who found such a troll were sure to have a story worth hearing. ”In the middle of the jungle?”
Suddenly, a shrill sound broke out of Haki. “I saw him beat up and kill a king alligator with his bare hands!” she said hastily, immediately covering her mouth with her hand.
Ja’Jen had flinched a bit at the sudden outburst. “With his bare hands?” the Yani priest chuckled. It was not a mockery of him, though. “Yes, yes, that even fits somehow. I want to know everything, but first, set up camp up front. You must be tired and I still have work to do. We will talk in detail later.”
“It is an honor,” Djar’Ku clapped himself gently on the chest, where his heart was. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Blood Tusk snorted. Again, so much was said in this strange language, although he judged the body language of the trolls to be relaxed. “What now, Ja’Jen?”
“I invited you,” Ja’Jen explained as he rose and stepped down from his rock. “Stay with the trolls and take from my offerings. We’ll talk later, Blood Tusk.”
