The Song.
Taen heard it now, the heart of the bladesinger's art-heard it in a way that he rarely had studying among the elves. For a moment, he stood in wonder.
The Song, however, gave him neither hope nor strength, for he heard within its mysterious strains the voice of his failure. It mocked him-mocked his struggle to live among the elves, mocked the choices he'd made in exile, and perhaps most of all, mocked the love he still felt for her.
He would have shouted his defiance of that Song, but just then Borovazk's voice cut through his awareness.
"Now!" the ranger shouted and, before Taen could draw another breath, loosed two arrows at the advancing trolls. The missiles leaped from the ranger's bow like wolves coursing for their prey. Both struck true, biting deeply into the white flesh of a single troll. Red flame erupted from the site of both wounds. The troll stumbled for a moment, clutching at his side, then fell screaming to the ground. Flames continued to burn as it rolled upon the slush-covered earth.
Taen watched in horrified fascination as another of the trolls stopped before its wounded companion and launched a glob of freezing spittle from its mouth. The disgusting globule covered the wounded monster and extinguished the burning flame. The other three trolls continued their charge.
Quickly, for he wanted to make sure he caught all of the trolls, Taen reached into one of the pouches that hung from his belt and began to recite the words of a spell. Power swelled in him and he felt the presence of his armor as the spell grew, its steel threatening to unbind the forces he commanded. His skill prevailed, and the magic came. He held it within him for the span of a few heartbeats, delighting in the energy that filled every space within his being. Then, with a single command he released the spell. A simple glowing bead shot out from the tip of his index finger, growing larger as it soared toward the trolls. Fire engulfed the hapless monsters as the bead struck the ground between the fallen troll and his companions. Only four trolls continued forward.
Immediately after, Taen heard Marissa's voice chanting the words to another spell. The shape of the words were different than his own arcane language, and although he couldn't understand them, he heard within their rolling cadence-heard within the rhythmic pulse of their sounds and their silence-praise, supplication, and most of all power. When she had finished, the ground upon which the trolls ran erupted into a riot of green grass and thorny vines. The tangle of greenery reached out to grab legs, arms, and muscled torsos. Within moments, two of the trolls were immobilized within the area of the swirling plants. The remaining two fought their way out slowly, tearing out the tangling grass and thick vines by their roots.
Before they had fully emerged from the confines of Marissa's spell, Roberc gave a single command to his mount and Cavan sped down the hill toward the monsters. The halfling gave out a great battle cry in the language of his people before engaging the trolls. One of the creatures, seeing the fighter approach, lashed out with a wide sweep of its clawed hand. Roberc ducked low on the war-dog's furred back and the troll's claws swept cleanly over his head. Gold glinted in the sun as the fighter's sword bit deep into the monster's leg.
The other troll took a step back from Roberc's assault and opened its gray-toothed mouth. Freezing spittle erupted from the beast. Taen watched as Cavan struggled to turn away from the disgusting attack-and failed. Both dog and fighter were covered in the freezing goo.
Roberc screamed once in pain but pressed his attack, obviously undaunted. Three more swings of the fighter's blade brought pale troll blood spilling onto the ground. Taen was about to launch another spell at Roberc's opponents when a slight scuffling sound caused him to turn. Another troll, one that Marissa obviously hadn't seen, charged up the hill behind the companions.
The half-elf didn't have time to shout a warning. He simply threw himself in the path of the advancing beast, drawing his red-hilted sword as he did so. Closer now to a troll, Taen could see that its skin was a sickly, transparent white; beneath its gelid surface, pale blood coursed through a webbing of thick blue veins. The troll bellowed once as it swung the great heft of its warhammer. The half-elf danced quickly back from the blow, barely avoiding the crushing attack as the iron head of the hammer struck the ground with so much force that it embedded itself into the half-frozen soil. Seeing his chance, Taen darted forward, aiming a downward swing of his sword to strike the troll's outstretched arm. Silver runes flared along the elven blade as it cut through translucent skin and thick muscle.
The strains of the Song soared within his heart, joined now by the voice of his sword-his father's sword, the ancient weapon passed down from generation to generation, from the golden age of Cormanthyr, from the hands of heroes, down through the ages until finally it reached him. Exile. Unworthy.
The Song leached strength from his muscle, and he nearly dropped the weapon from nerveless fingers. A shout from Marissa roused him, however. The troll had finally managed to free his weapon and advanced once again. Taen retreated ever so slightly, wanting to keep the creature away from Borovazk, whose fiery arrows were making short work of the still-entangled trolls but also needing to give himself room to avoid the deadly weight of the warhammer.
Wordlessly, Marissa joined the half-elf in his battle, standing slightly to his side. The druid raised the leather-covered stump of her left arm. Purple light glowed from the spidery runes burned into the leather as a blade made entirely of flames sprang from the end of her arm. She moved forward, swinging the fiery weapon in a wide arc. Taen watched the troll give way before the druid's attack. Once again he darted forward, striking at the troll's unprotected flank. His sword sliced deeply into the creature's side and it stumbled.
Immediately, Marissa sprang into action. Her flaming blade cut once then twice, across its shoulder. The troll screamed and lashed wildly out at its attacker. The curve of its clawed hand raked against the flesh of Marissa's neck. This time, the druid stumbled back, nearly falling as she grabbed at the wound.
Taen immediately dropped his sword and hissed the words to another spell. The troll's flesh, torn by the edge of his blade, had begun to seal as the creature's ability to regenerate kicked in. He needed something fast and deadly. No sooner had he finished the words to the spell than four silver-white beams of mystic energy streaked from his hands to strike the creature full in the chest.
It screamed again at the four smoking wounds and opened its mouth, no doubt to spew forth its freezing spittle, but at himself or the wounded druid, Taen did not know. He was prepared to launch himself in the path of the attack to protect Marissa when an arrow hissed by the half-elf's head and struck the troll full in the mouth. Instead of the freezing viscous liquid he'd expected, Taen watched in wonderment as flames and thick steam erupted from the creature's mouth. With a long, gurgling sigh, the troll fell to the ground.
"Yes, little friends," Borovazk said in his cheer-filled voice, "we have much fun in Rashemen, no?"
Taen ignored the ranger for a moment and drew near Marissa. The druid, however, waved him off.
"I'm fine," she said, removing her fingers from her neck to reveal an already healing wound. Though long, the troll's claws had not cut too deeply into her flesh. The half-elf could see that she had healed most of the damage with her own power.
Confident that Marissa would be all right, Taen looked out over the battlefield. Roberc, his armor and shield bent and battered, had dismounted and now stood over the dead trolls. He poured black oil from a flask on the corpses and set them afire with the burning length of a wood torch.