Free Three Kings (Book 3) by Jeremy Laszlo Page B

fire.
    It was more than two hours later, and nearly halfway through the night when he finished his meal. His stomach stuffed to capacity, the troll king dropped the half of the wolf he hadn’t eaten, and rose to gather his supplies. Piling the charred and roasted meat atop the litter with his orkin body, he lashed it into place and grabbed up the cord to begin pulling the sled down the mountain.
    Though his eyes in this body were not as suited to darkness as were his own, he managed to pick out the trail well enough, and used his familiarity with the mountain to guide him. When the sun rose he picked up his pace further, and found that with circumventing both the cliff face and the crater, he would likely reach the base of the mountains the very next day.
    With the sun occasionally on his face between the evergreen boughs of those trees that covered the mountainside, Gnak strolled easily downhill, sifting through the memories of the king of trolls. He discovered that though they were big in stature, their race as a whole was relatively small, with fewer than five thousand of their kind.
    Able to recall memories from centuries ago, Gnak was able to witness the king’s run-ins with races that he had never even heard of. One such race had the thick legs of beasts but a human-like torso. Its head was that of an animal as well, with great bent horns that jutted out from each side of its head. Another race was of small yellow men, similar in size to that of the goblins. Though they closely resembled the humans, the smaller race was remembered by the troll king for their knowledge of mechanical items. Knowledge was the key. Gnak had found a useful addiction.
     
    Just as he had predicted, Gnak reached the base of the mountains the very next day and, setting out across the softer surface below, he trekked through the desert sand towards the camp of his Gathos clan. With each passing day he shifted several times, but primarily used the troll for travel as his orcish arm grew worse by the day. At first it just swelled, but then a fever set in and looking back, Gnak could see sweat on his other face’s brow. Just as he had feared, infection had set in.
    His fourth day in the sand brought the first signs of others of his kind. Apparently reaching the edge of the lands where his clan now patrolled, he crossed tracks of both orcs and goblins regularly.
    Cresting a small dune, a flash of light in the distance caught his attention and squinting his deep-set troll eyes. Gnak spotted an orcish patrol less than a mile from him. If he could see them, then certainly they had spotted him as well. Dropping the leash to the sled, Gnak turned to prepare for the orcs who would surely come, but quickly raised his hands in a non-threatening manner before he shifted bodies.
     
    Weak and nauseated, Gnak rose to a seated position as spears bristled all around him towards the troll body he had just abandoned. So busy had he been looking forward, that he had never thought to look behind to see if his own trail had been picked up. Gnak smiled. His race was clever, if nothing else.
    Turning to face those who served him, Gnak pushed through the pain and summoned his voice.
    “Gathos no hurt troll. No fight. Is troll king. Troll king Gnak ally,” he managed, and as sweat poured down his face he looked as their heads nodded in understanding.
    “Lead us back camp,” he ordered. “Send runner. Bring shaman.”
    Collapsing back to the sled, his vision went black as unconsciousness threatened to take him. Before it could, however, Gnak shifted back to the troll king.
     
    Lowering his arms, the king of trolls took up the cord to the sled once more and began trudging through the sand. To either side of him orc soldiers guided him towards his camp as the fastest among their group disappeared beyond the dunes ahead.
    Watching the man vanish into the ruddy golden sands beyond, Gnak reveled in the sensation of the hot sun on his skin. It was only an hour before a