Softy the Troll Page 2

  The thug who had kicked it against the wall hurriedly picked it up and handed it to her. To her disappointment, it was badly cracked and probably broken. She quickly put it in her pocket.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I think so. W, what’s going on?”

  “Go home, Amazon, you should not have followed me. Go home before you learn truths you cannot unlearn.” His voice trembled with anger but a tear shone on his cheek in the low light.

  “What are you talking about? Why were you in our flat?”

  He went to turn away and as he did so he stepped into the moonlight.

  Jenny let out a gasp of shock. “W, your back, it’s straight.”

  “Yes, so? Oh, I must have forgotten. Would you prefer I am a hunchback?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “When I am away from here I am. When I am here I am not.”

  “I do not understand. You cannot be both.”

  “Come, then, it’s too late now. I will explain, but inside. Please remember I tried to protect you.”

  “Protect me from what?”

  “Inside,” he urged.

  Blood Ward

  He took her arm and pulled her roughly towards the big metal door he had gone through before. As the door shut a light came on and she saw that instead of the massive warehouse they were in a much smaller room, about the same size as a lift. W reached for buttons by the door and pressed one. It was a lift, she realised, and while it felt like they were going down she could not be sure. He pressed another button and the lift stopped.

  In the light that shone down from the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling she could see most definitely that he was no longer hunchbacked. He stood an intimidating seven feet tall over her. He seemed to realise this because he crouched down in front of her and took her hands, staring sightlessly into her soft brown eyes.

  His strange pink eyes had often unnerved her. It felt as if he could see to the depths of her soul. A blind man could not see her soul. Was he blind? If he could fake being a hunchback what else could he fake?

  “Mr White, who are you?”

  “That’s not important. What is important is that we find Peter.”

  “Do you know where he is?” Jenny asked suspiciously.

  “I know where he might be.”

  “Is he here?”

  “No, he is not, but there is someone here who might know where he might be.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  “There’s something important we must do first.”

  “What?”

  He reached into the coat and to Jenny’s horror drew out a large and old knife. The entire thing, from the smooth hilt to the wickedly sharp point and edges was made from one piece of blackened bone, or ivory. There were strange symbols scored over the whole surface. To her relief, he slashed his palm with it.

  “I swear by my true name the responsibility and safety of this human I bring here.” As he spoke, he continued to slash a symbol into his palm, letting the blood fall to the floor. The symbol he carved into his palm was similar to the spiral symbols on the knife.

  “Now it’s your turn.”

  “What?”

  “Give me your hand and repeat what I tell you.”

  “Are you crazy?” she asked, shoving her hands behind her back.

  “Do you want Peter back?”

  “Of course.”

  “What would you do to get him back?”

  “Anything.”

  “Then you must do this. Please, I do not want to hurt you, but we can go no further unless you swear. They will not let us.”

  “Who will not let us?”

  “I cannot tell you, not unless you swear.”

  Jenny looked into those strange eyes. She had no reason to trust him, and yet he seemed completely sincere. “If this is some kind of con I swear you will regret it.”

  “Swear, and I will prove to you that I am not trying to con you.”

  “Mum is going to kill me,” she muttered under her breath. Reluctantly she put out her hands.

  He reached out and took hold of her left hand. “Repeat after me. I swear.”

  “I swear.”

  “To all the powers.”

  “What powers?”

  “Just say it, quickly.”

  “To all the powers.”

  “That I will tell no one.”

  “I will tell no one.”

  “What I see here.”

  “What I see here.”

  As she finished speaking he carved a similar symbol into her palm. She hissed as the cold blade bit into her flesh. The knife might have been cold but the cut burnt like fire.

  White then spoke strange hissing words in a language she did not know. “Si swaires siy smy strews same srowtictions stoos shis shewmarns. I swear protection to this human. I swear it by my true name.”

  She tried pulling her hand away from him but he would not let go, clasping their bloody hands together.

  What if he has AIDS or something? flitted through her head. Too late now.

  “You do not have AIDS or anything, do you?”

  “No,” he answered in surprise. He pulled her hand up to his mouth and to her disgust opened his crooked mouth, flicked out a large rough tongue and licked her hand. His tongue rasped against the wound, causing her more pain, his breath hot and foul.

  She pulled away in disgust and looked at her hand. To her deep shock the scar had healed and already looked several days old.

  “How?”

  “It’s but a small thing compared with the many wonders you will soon see. The scar will soon not be noticeable to anyone you know in the normal world.”

  “What do you mean, ‘the normal world?’”

  “You will soon see. Just remember your vow,” he mumbled around his own hand which he had stuck in his mouth.

  He pulled out a raggedy handkerchief and wrapped it around his hand, pulling the knot tight with his teeth. The blood soaked through the handkerchief, but then slowly dried to a trickle.

  He restarted the lift and it came to a halt. Before the doors opened he tried staring her in the eye. Instead, he stared over her shoulder, but she could still feel the intensity in his gaze. “Whatever you think you know, forget it. Keep an open mind.”

  The Club

  The lift doors opened onto a very rich looking lobby like something in a posh hotel reception. Jenny stepped out and onto the night sky decorated carpet, sinking into it ankle deep. Large colourful exotically scented flowers sat in tall vases that looked like they belonged in a museum. The chairs and comfy settees also looked old. The room was lit by a large, tinkling chandelier, its light reflected in the low glass coffee tables and polished furniture. A large reception desk was placed in front of a set of huge, ornately carved doors, looking out of place. Standing behind the desk was the one thing that really caught Jenny’s attention. If it was a person, it was unlike anyone she had ever seen. He, or she, or it, must have been been eight feet tall and seemed just as wide. His skin was grey like stone, with sparks of colour flashing in it like mica. Under this skin rippled huge muscles, as big as boulders. She could tell that because the brown tunic it wore was pulled taut over its bulging chest. Four white translucent fangs curled over its lips. Similar looking claws curved from its large stumpy fingers and toes. They glittered like diamonds.

  W padded towards the desk. Jenny opened her mouth to warn him about the monster he was unknowingly heading towards but before she could he spoke. “Is that you, Portcullis?”

  “Yes, Ambassador, it is.”

  “How are you?”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “And the wife and little boulders?”

  “They are all well, thank you.”

  The monster spoke with a voice like stones being ground.

  Wait, had it just called White Ambassador?

  The creature turned its gaze upon her and a pair of glittering grey eyes ran over her. What did it see? A short dumpy girl with
brown eyes and straggly, untidy brown hair, wearing clothes that did not fit her. At first the eyes were critical and calculating, but then they became friendly and warm.

  “And who is this pretty babe of man?”

  “Jenny Charity, this is Portcullis of the Stone Colour clan. She is here under my protection. Show him your palm, Jenny.”

  Reluctantly, she did so. He glanced down at it and so did Jenny. She could not see much. There was a scar, but it was already faded into a faint blur. She doubted it was recognisable as any kind of symbol but he smiled at her.

  “We are seeking Softy, is he in the club?”

  ”At the mention of this Softy the hard look on the things face seemed to soften. In fact, all of its sharp edges seemed, for just a moment, to soften. “Yes, he is. He is not in any trouble, is he?”

  “No of course not. Why would Softy be in trouble? Surely one as gentle as Softy could not get in any trouble, could they?”

  “Well, normally no, but there are the unusual circumstances that surround Softy.”

  “Oh, well, we just want to talk with him,” said W, reaching out a hand and placing it on the huge things forearm. Jenny could have laughed. It looked so silly, the blind, old man reassuring this huge monster that could have snapped them both like twigs.

  “Very well, but if you upset him you will have me to answer to, understood?” he growled.

  “Understood,” agreed W.

  The big creature spun in a surprisingly graceful half circle and reached for the huge, ornately carved wooden doors. They looked like a wooden version of Rodin’s gates of hell, except his gate did not have naked humans, monsters, and devils, all engaged in a huge orgy. Jenny felt herself blushing. W was slowly running his hands over the carvings, more interested, it seemed, in the carvings than their embarrassing subject matter.

  “Ambassador, you’re embarrassing your ward,” growled the guard.

  Was that grinding sound coming from him laughter?

  “Sorry, Jenny, I like these doors. You must not be embarrassed by them. Trust me, most of the positions here are like the Kama Sutra, either impractical or impossible.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We do not have time now, but maybe one day I will tell you.”

  The monster touched many of the figures in different places. Jenny could not follow them all. The only one she did know was the last one he lay his paw on. It was a tree, an oak she thought but she was no expert. Hanging from its branches like perverted fruit were bat-like creatures eating or coupling with men and women. Despite the bright light all the carvings seemed to be covered in shifting shadows, giving the carvings different impressions of what was carved on the doors. Although there were no obvious locks or handles, he must have pressed a hidden catch, for the doors slowly swung open.

  Within there was a long passage lined with expensive wooden panels and the same carpet. They walked along this corridor, passing many doors, smaller versions of the doors they had come in by. Most were closed but some were open. They passed a library which looked as tall as her apartment block, packed from floor to ceiling with shelves of books. Another room looked like something out of a fantasy book. It was a huge hall, the kind where balls and dances were held. As well as these doors the walls were decorated with relief sculptures and paintings. they looked like genuine masterpieces.

  As they passed an ornate mirror, its gilt frame also covered with figures doing naughty things to each other, Jenny spotted something she had missed before. On his tunic was a design, a blue shield, and on the shield was a pair of trees, one in the height of summer with bright green leaves and golden fruit, the other naked in the stark beauty of winter. How had she missed it till now?

  Their strange guide stopped at a door that looked no different than all the others. “Softy should be in the gym getting a massage.”

  The doors swung open. As they did so many smells washed over them, the rich fragrant scent of eastern spices and the thick, sickly sweet smell of sweat. It was the kind aroma Jenny imagined a zoo must smell like. The sounds of a gym came to their ears, the grunt of people lifting heavy weights, the clink of those weights being lifted up and settled back down. Jenny was surprised. This was a strange contrast from the lobby and the passageway, but this was just the beginning of the strangeness. The figures moving against the candle light were even stranger.

  “Why have you got a horse on a treadmill?”

  “Look again, and look hard.”

  “I am looking.”

  “Keep looking, with your heart as well as your head.”

  “Oh, very good, oh honourable master, and how do I do that?”

  “Concentrate on what you’re looking at and stop thinking about what you believe the world to be and what the world is. I know it’s hard, but I have faith in you.”

  Jenny tried to do so. As she stared at it, its image wavered like a mirage. The body of the big black horse stayed the same but its head shimmered and lengthened until it stood at least three feet taller. She blinked and then took in what she was seeing. The horse head had grown a large muscular human torso, arms, and head.

  She was looking at her first centaur. He trotted off the treadmill and ran a white fluffy towel through a long mane of raven hair.

  “Don’t stare, it’s rude,” said W, nudging her gently in the ribs.

  “I thought you were blind? Or is that a lie as well?”

  “No, I am blind, but I can guess what you’re doing.”

  “I am sorry, it’s just I have never seen a centaur before.”

  “That’s all right, after all, who would not stop and stare at something so hunky? Besides which, are you sure you have never seen one before? You just thought you were looking at a horse until I forced you to see through the glamour. Would you like to speak to him?”

  “I do not know, I mean, he looks very fierce, all those huge muscles,” Jenny spluttered. But before she could say anything more a large, heavily muscled, hairless black chest was in front of her face.

  “Hi, Red Eye, have not seen you in an age. How are you kicking?”

  “I am well, thanks. How are you?”

  “Who is the pretty human?”

  “This is Jenny, she is here under my protection. Jenny Charity, please meet Cyrok, the black night.”

  He reached out a huge muscular hand for her to shake. Jenny took it. It was hard, with many calluses. His handshake was brief, but brutal. W reached out and the two of them clasped forearms.

  “What brings the two of you here?”

  “We are looking for Softy, have you seen him?”

  “Yes, he was getting a massage from Handy.”

  “Thanks, dark one. I would love to stay and chat but we are tight for time. Another time?”

  “I will hold you to that,” he said, smiling, and trotted away.

  “We used to be brothers in arms, a long, long time ago it seems now.”

  “What do you mean, brothers in arms?”

  “I was not always a blind old man. There’s no time now, maybe one day I will tell you. Now, come.”

  Jenny wanted to ask him questions, but there was something in his expression that not only said do not ask me now, but also never ask me. For the first time Jenny was afraid of him and she did not know why.

  “Jenny, dear, would you mind guiding me through the rest of the gym?”

  “Of course, here, take my arm.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Where do we need to go?”

  “Across the gym to the dark corner to our left. You should be able to see Handy’s massage couch.

  “Yes, I can see it.”

  She led him around the state of the art gym equipment towards the dim corner. Most of the equipment was being used but Jenny could not make out who or what was using it. As she tried staring at them their appearances blurred, as if smoke or shadow came between her and them. She tried staring hard at them, but whatever this magic was it was different or stronger than before. Then again, did she
really want to see what they looked like? The strange sounds and smells coming off them suggested she did not. One of them smelt like it had bathed in dead fish.

  “W, what are those two things in the boxing ring?”

  “They are like the creature that brought us here, but have thick rough bark like skin in mottled browns and greens. They are trolls like Portcullis, but from a different clan. Clan Wood, probably.”

  “They sound like they are going at it hammer and tongs.”

  “They are. They usually do when they fight. Too much mushroom mead usually. Just ignore them.”

  They came to the couch and once again Jenny saw a creature she did not know, but she could not ask W what it was because they were no doubt within its hearing and asking what it was would be considered rude. It was hard to be certain, but the head had a feminine look about it, with dark Greek or Roman features. Her skin was a dark olive with a long mane of grey hair tied up into a bun at her neck. The reason it was difficult to tell its sex was because its torso was hidden by and surrounded by many tentacles.

  “Olive Cleynikter, how are you?”

  “Well, and you?”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “Do you or your young friend like a massage?”

  “Oh, if only we had time, but alas we do not. Is Softy here?”

  “He was, but he left for the library.”

  He turned away in anger. He tried not to show it but Jenny could tell by the way he clenched his hands into fists. Was his hair standing on end? He looked like he wanted to hit something. Although Jenny was standing a foot from him she could feel waves of heat rolling off him.

  “We do not have time for this,” he hissed, then he started hissing and spitting, uttering strange words in a language she did not recognise. “Sranceprorts sus sos stoos sheres sours squars.”

  She turned to the one he had called Olive. “Is he having some kind of fit?”

  “Of course not, he is spellcasting.”

  “He’s what?”

  “Spellcasting.”

  Before she could express her disbelief the room began to spin. She reached for W for support. He felt her grab his shoulder and gripped her hand. When the dizziness passed she turned to ask him what had just happened. Her mouth opened to ask the question, but it never came. She was, to her disbelief, no longer in the same room. Where the gym had been they were now surrounded by books.