There it was, his element! Blood Tusk stood in a circle that, although not sand, was at least dark, earthy, soft jungle floor, without grass or any obstacles. In the early afternoon, the giant held a very long wooden stick made for him in both hands. After all, this was just training and whether wilderness or arena, the goal was to learn and not to kill.
The adversaries were two trolls from the Wanderer group, who had already picked up a few bruises in the last hour. He breathed heavily and they didn’t really do it for the sake of the exercise either. The males wanted to make an impression.
Most of the observers were the euphoric whelps of the group, but a few of the mothers and females without offspring were also watching, and as much as many of them resisted, their natural instincts alone favored the impure troll.
That didn’t mean that the two opponents were freshlings, who could be defeated easily. When they attacked together again and twirled their wooden staffs, they showed formidable fighting skills, but now more characterized by wildness instead of technique.
However, sheer wildness had the opposite effect against Blood Tusk. So he was able to shine in front of the audience, which wasn’t even his intention. He simply did what he was trained to do and what he was. A raw, concentrated mass that defied its opponent and did not allow a single hit.
“Giant, giant, giant!” the children cheered. To them, it was more of a game, no matter how rough and relentless the world of trolls was.
These childish cries made the opponents furious. Some of their own tribe cheered on this impure troll. Neither of them would let this go unchallenged.
But Blood Tusk recognized their anger even before his opponents launched a brutal attack. He saw it as his duty to give the trolls a break, and he did so without hesitation. With his first, rigorous blow, he disarmed one opponent who jumped back. In the next swing, he broke the wooden staff of the next opponent in half and sent him to the ground with a steam hammer from the back of the head. The attacker who had jumped back earlier took this as an opportunity and tried to attack Blood Tusk from the flank with a spirited leap. The gladiator, however, simply swung his entire left arm outward and tore the attacker away through the air.
The whekps clapped enthusiastically, while the females were amazed at the demonstrated power and violence, but remained as reserved as possible.
“Enough for now,” Blood Tusk wheezed once, after both trolls had struggled to get up. He knew there was a time for fighting and a time for resting. “A break would be good.”
You could tell from the trolls’ expressions, however, that they didn’t particularly like hearing the words. ‘If you absolutely need a break,’ one of the males growled in frustration, and both turned away. ”Let’s not wait too long for the next exercise.”
As after every exercise, it was time for the whelps to circle the giant. They jumped around excitedly and pawed at him, with even the tallest boy just reaching the gladiator’s waist.
Blood Tusk just stared blankly at the foreigners, as he did every time. Their jubilation meant nothing to him and he didn’t run a hand through their hair or answer their gestures in any other way before he slowly left the small square in front of the ruin.
This aloof behavior, however, only served to fascinate the children even more, although they didn’t follow or pester him any further. They knew their limits and scattered in all directions.
Others, however, continued to observe the giant with pure suspicion and rejection from a distance. “Look at how the pups dance around him,” Mejhek spat on the ground. “Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”
“Whelps worship even the lowliest of butterflies,” Sa’Thuk replied without concern. ”Their fascination fades even faster than their short, exuberant flare.”
Mejhek was one of the better warriors of the group and a supporter and loyalist. He was also a member of the same, former tribe as Sa’Thuk and he, too, wore his first dried eyeballs as a symbol around his neck. “Maybe you should challenge him anyway,” he suggested. “After you’ve defeated him, your dominance in the group will be undeniable and you will undoubtedly be our jatal.”
“Both things are certain already,” Sa’Thuk said with confidence. He considered himself a true troll, which, in his opinion, already made him better. ”Beating that brainless ape would only open more thighs for me faster, but that will happen anyway when we settle down and I become jatal.”
“Of course, I just wanted to express my conviction for you.”
“Which I appreciate and will continue to do, my friend,” Sa’Thuk nodded, not just paying him a simple courtesy. He considered the troll his friend. ”But look, something much more important seems to be awaiting us.”
“Hm?” Mejhek pricked up his ears and followed the scout across the meadow to the edge of the jungle. He saw one of the group’s scouts making the corresponding hand signal. ”More wanderers? What will we do with them?”
“Since the scout has returned with an announcement, we will apparently have to act with the Mercy of Mirihiji,” Sa’Thuk said, deliberately and harshly. ’Nothing more, though.”
“I see,’ Mejhek nodded. He returned the necessary hand signal to the scout, while the guards in the camp already took up position. ”Then we’ll probably wait for them at your resting place.”
“As it should be,” Sa’Thuk agreed before he went to his shelter with his loyal companion. On his way, he passed Nira’theba’s resting place, where neither the female nor her whelps were. Instead, his narrowed gaze and the unmoved one of Blood Tusk crossed for a brief moment.
However, Blood Tusk turned his attention to his new weapon, which he was sharpening with a damp whetstone. It was a Bisento, and even though it was not quite the same size as his previous arena weapon, it was at least familiar to him and preferable to always having to make do with just a spear and a knife.
“You’re sharpening your blade, very good,” said Haki when she returned to camp with a full bucket of fresh water in one hand and Nira’theba’s youngest daughter on her other arm. ”We might need it in a moment.”
“Why?”
“Haven’t you heard? Another group of wanderers is on their way here.”
“They’re like you?” Blood Tusk asked rather matter-of-factly. ’Isn’t that a good thing?”
“They’re not... like us,’ Haki replied, shaking her head. At least she was honest, even if she was just as territorial as many trolls on that point. ”Not even all the trolls in our group are mine, and that’s hard enough.”
“I don’t understand,” admitted Blood Tusk. It wasn’t the first time the female or others had said these words to him, but he saw no sense in what she was saying. ”You told me that wanderers are trolls without a home or tribe, so that makes you all the same, and yet you are not the same. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m sure you’ll understand it in time,” Haki hoped when she set the little Ba’tha down on the ground and went to her own belongings. The female took off the comfortable cloth shirt and began to put on her leather shin guards, her back to the fire. “Even you would reject trolls who offer every third newborn as a sacrifice to their tiki as a rite. My father also once told me stories of trolls that supposedly live in bleak sandy deserts and rip the souls out of their own tribe members to devour them themselves to become stronger.”
Of course, these were extreme examples, and many would have quickly responded with agreement and insight that not all trolls are the same.
But here sat Blood Tusk. “Someone who does something like that is no troll,” the gladiator snorted disparagingly. “I thought it was about protecting each other in a tribe and not slaughtering these little whelps. They can’t defend themselves.” The giant’s thinking was rational and his compassion was lacking, but he still glanced at Ba’tha and saw the little girl waving her arms about, babbling happily.
“Sometimes... it is acceptable to punish your tribe with death, such as when someone insults the tiki or seriously harms the tribe in some other way. Or when we take prisoners after a fight and offer them or their hearts as a sacrifice to the tiki.”
“So, trolls are all the same somehow?”
“You are naive,” Haki murmured contemptuously, without acknowledging the human. ”Enough of this.”
Blood Tusk left that unanswered and instead watched Ba’tha as the little puppy pulled herself up on the heavy bucket of water. She splashed around with her hands in the cool water and scooped it up to her mouth. When she started to lean over the bucket with her body and almost fell into it with her head, Blood Tusk hooked his finger on her hip in the cloth diaper and carried the astonished puppy to the other side of the fire, where the bucket was quickly forgotten. Instead, the little girl showed agility and sucked on her own foot.
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Twenty minutes later, a procession of 23 trolls, some of them looking quite different, emerged from the undergrowth of the jungle. At the head of the procession was one of Haki’s scouts, and a little way away, on either side of the group, more scouts came out of the green.
Despite their obvious differences, the foreign wanderers were clearly made up almost entirely of females, whelps, a few males and just three warriors.
However, Haki’s group knew that fighters could also be hidden among the harmless-looking members, and their spears and arrows were always at the ready to strike at the slightest sign of deception.
Only Blood Tuskwas not among their ranks, standing relaxed by the campfire with Nira’theba and her offspring, continuing to whet the blade of his weapon.
It was one of the reasons, besides the obvious stature of the gladiator, why the strangers’ eyes fell into wonder and fear when they were led past the resting place. To unknowing, yet accustomed eyes, it all looked like a typical troll family and more.
That’s why the troll at the front, whose face was half painted red, stopped and laid down his razor blade as a sign of peace. “The tiki are blessed,” he said. He went down on both knees and, because of the giant’s height, didn’t even have to bow deeply to show his subservience. “The scouts had already told me that their leader was a formidable troll, but they had completely underestimated him. I am Ukha’Teka and I lead these wanderers.”
After Kriz’kriz had quietly translated into the gladiator’s ear, he returned the greeting. “I am Blood Tusk.”
Of course, Ukha’Teka was confused by the unknown language, and the scene itself was a surprise. Haki’s group fell into whispers, with one of the warriors stepping in. “Why are you stopping?!” he snarled angrily. “And what are you doing there?! That’s not our leader.”
“What?” Ukha’Teka pricked up his ears. He didn’t believe it. ’Are you saying that your real leader has such a troll under his control? How much have the tiki blessed him then?”
“No one leads me,’ Blood Tusk commented openly. ”I have a deal with them.”
“Deal?” Ukha’Teka replied. Now his companions began to whisper as well. ’So you really aren’t the leader?”
“No.”
“Strange,’ said Ukha’Teka. In his time as a wanderer, he had never experienced anything like this and had never heard of anything like it before. Either you were a wanderer or you weren’t, but that suited him just fine.
The halting of the procession and the resulting crowd of different groups slowly turned into a restlessness that was broken by Sa’Thuk’s stern voice. “What does this mean here? Why are you making me wait? Are you gathering for an attack?!”
The outsiders huddled together, surrounded by Sa’Thuk’s larger group. Ukha’Teka stood up and stepped forward alone, growling intrepidly. “Don’t scare the females and children!”
“You’re lucky I don’t rip you all apart for this!” Sa’Thuk growled back. Physically, he was slightly superior to his guest. ”So, what’s the meaning of this?”
“A misunderstanding. I assumed Blood Tusk was your leader. A troll of such stature, how could he not be?”
“He does as he’s told,” Sa’Thuk asserted. He wanted to take advantage of the situation and not only consolidate his status but also impress the foreign group. As if he were jatal, as if the resting place in Nira’theba belonged to him and as if he were the one who decided the Blood Tusk’s fate, he sat down next to the giant. ”I’m Sa’thuk and I’m leading this group. So think very carefully about what you say next. What do you want from us?”
Ukha’Teka crouched down opposite him. “My name is Ukha’Teka. We have been traveling for over four moons,” he began informally. “Almost all of us come from the western regions of the Diamond Jungle and these parts are completely foreign to us.”
“I asked what you want from us,” Sa’thuk noted impassively. He made the rules and didn’t want to be told off by a stranger. ”So spare me the long stories, because your time here is short.”
“Excuse me, I just wanted to give you and your trolls some information,” Ukha’Teka growled cautiously, his eyes repeatedly glancing at Blood Tusk. ”One of your scouts revealed himself to us and warned us that you were already walking these paths. However, both of our groups would certainly benefit from joining forces.”
This statement was met with very little joy among Haki’s group and Sa’Thuk reflected that. “What would we benefit from?” he asked, looking at the strangers, even if he only spoke half the truth. “Females, whelps, workers and hardly any warriors. Many hungry mouths that we would have to feed and protect. More of a burden than a benefit, more weakness than strength.”
“We are not weak!” Ukha’Teka defended his kin and their bitterness impressed a few of the camp’s trolls. ”Or do you think that weaklings would have survived such a long and dangerous journey? We can contribute.”
“You were surely many more once.”
“We were, but everything has its price...” Ukha’Teka said calmly, but he didn’t hold back his spear tip. ’A good leader knows that.”
Sa’Thuk wasn’t stupid, but his pride and temper could always get in the way. ’Perhaps as a good leader, I should do the right thing and order to cut all of your throats to keep my group safe.”
“That would cost you more than you realize,” Ukha’Teka replied, placing his right hand on the hilt of a dagger at his hip. ”And in the end, your group would be as small or smaller than ours.”
Tense or on edge was an understatement when it came to the mood between all the trolls. It was normal for many to be ready to draw their weapons or sink their fangs into the flesh of strangers. Even the females and workers on both sides were not entirely defenseless and willing to do so.
Only one remained untouched by all the hatred and mistrust. “I don’t see the problem,” said Bloody Tusk. He was often very quiet and not very interested in talking, so his participation in this conversation might come as a surprise, but for him, too, it was about something. If the two groups were to tear each other apart, there was a risk that no one would be able to show him the way to the arena. He didn’t know that troll politics were being made here and that Sa’Thuk and Ukha’Teka had something else to fight for. Nevertheless, the tense atmosphere was briefly dissolved in a cloud of amazement at the giant’s clumsy intervention, because no one had expected that. “You are wanderers, they are wanderers. They want to help and need protection. Everyone gets something, a fair trade.”
While Ukha’Teka grinned, Sa’Thuk looked at the gladiator with widened, angry eyes. “Don’t interfere, impure one!” he snapped. “Just dealing with you was more than I could take, and you don’t belong with us because of that! So shut up and know your place!”
“We are the same,” Blood Tusk replied purely. He knew neither the ways of the trolls nor possessed the wild instincts of the jungle, and he lacked any ambition to do so, but if he had wanted to, he could have easily ousted Sa’Thuk. ”Just as they are the same. Troll is troll.”
While the giant’s previous intervention had already stopped the tensions, this statement took the breath away from every adult troll present. Some seethed in silent, offended anger. Some others simply didn’t dare to contradict the seated giant and for a moment, a handful of trolls really thought about these words and they saw it the same way, before their reality repressed this thought again. The whelps, who already had the the necessary mind to process interactions, were the only ones who exchanged glances, no matter who they belonged to, and they did not look at each other as enemies or lepers.
“What is it?” Blood Tusk asked, noticing the looks and the silence.
“You seem to understand some things well,” Ukha’Teka praised. He saw his chance. ’How about you join us? Sa’Thuk doesn’t seem to appreciate you.”
“He’s an annoying pain in the neck, like a puck that talks too much, but I have a deal with the trolls here,’ Blood Tusk shook his head. ”I’ll stick to that.”
Suddenly, Sa’Thuk rose. “You dare to weaken my group?!” he snarled, but this time he didn’t reach for his curved one-handed sword. Instead, he put his hand on the spiky, large iron mace that was strapped to his back, but he didn’t draw it yet. “That’s enough! Your welcome has expired and only Mirihiji’s Mercy protects you! Get out of here!”
With this demand, the fuse of the powder keg ignited again, but Ukha’Teka had only been waiting for that. “Blood Tusk was right about one thing!” he said, and he drew his dagger. The leader placed the blade made of bone in his left, tightly closed hand to cut himself in the flesh. Ukha’Teka raised his clenched fist, from which several threads of blood flowed together into a steady drop, and all the trolls paused. “Right now we are the same: wanderers, without tribe, without home, without rites, without tiki and no jatals. Only true strength counts and that is why I challenge you to a duel to take over your group... or will you hide behind your warriors like a coward?”
That was exactly what it came down to in the end, and Sa’Thuk had suspected as much from the beginning. “If you want death so badly, I’ll give it to you,” he replied coldly, picking up his club. “Come with me.”
Now the training ground was about to see not only scratches and blood, but also a death. A few guards did not leave their posts at the remains of the ruins, but they could see everything. The remaining trolls, including Blood Tusk, gathered around the place, with each group standing on the side of their leader and watching the coming with silence and acceptance. There was no speech, no rituals, no invocation of the tiki or the like. Besides the law of the jungle, there was only one real rule and that forbade the use of any poisons.
“Ready?” Sa’Thuk asked. He got a nod and the fight began with him swinging his club with both hands.
Ukha’Teka dodged the powerful attack with a leap backwards before drawing his double-sided weapon. One side had an iron axe head and the other was shaped like the tip of a hoe, bound together with two long bones.
Whenever iron met iron, it resounded across the meadow and through the windings of the surrounding jungle. It frightened nearby animals, who fled in panic through the undergrowth or took off into the sky with their wings through the branches.
In their own way, both trolls fought with technique and skill, but neither performed a duel of noble swordplay nor did they wrestle with the sheer strength of animals. The troll’s dance was theirs, which could be as precise and nimble as a puma in the night one moment and turn into the purest brutality between two gorillas the next.
Ukha’Teka’s double-sided weapon and Sa’Thuk’s mighty club were both destructive tools that either bounced off each other or failed to hit at all until the challenger saw his chance.
“Gotcha!” Ukha’Teka roared as he hooked the club with the underside of his pickaxe and deflected it. This left his opponent’s defense completely exposed, allowing him to swing.
Sa’Thuk summoned all his courage and willpower, for he now had only one option left. “Then get me!” he shouted, baring his teeth and spitting profusely. He threw his left arm at the ax head, which was driven through his elbow. However, it was only in those seconds when a partly blinding fountain of blood spurted and the speed of the ax was momentarily slowed by the threads of flesh that Sa’Thuk was able to let his upper body fall back and thus escape a far more deadly blow. No sooner had the momentum swung to the other side and the danger passed than the proud troll hammered his knee into Ukha’Teka’s stomach, and when the latter staggered back, Sa’Thuk crushed his skull with his club.
It was over, and all the trolls at the training ground, except Bloodfang, went into a deep, submissive squat.
“Bring me some thick ropes!” groaned the one-armed and battered Sa’Thuk, who had lost a body part not for the first time. Immediately, warriors rushed over with ointment and ropes to tie off and care for his wound, but that didn’t stop him. ”You now belong to us and will do whatever I say!”
Blood Tusk didn’t understand a thing anymore, since Sa’Thuk had previously wanted to send everyone away because they were supposedly a burden.
The rest knew all the better. Once again, it was about dominance and not just over the foreign group. Trolls like Sa’Thuk and Ukha’Teka would never have submitted to each other anyway. At least not for very long, and both had wanted to take over the other’s group.
“Which females don’t have any whelps yet?!” snorted Sa’Thuk, filled with the fire of battle and the intoxication of victory. His eyes spotted two hands. ”I claim you. You are mine now.”
