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Raskyuil growled, his tail lashing as he kicked his motorcycle in a fit of frustration, growling with grim satisfaction when it dropped with a loud crash. Blasted piece of twisted metal! He missed having a more reliable mount. There was nothing that compared to a crocotta. He would have taken one with him when he left the Eternal Forest if he had felt like he had any right to even one among their pack. With wild crocotta packs now wandering through the human world and thriving, he had hope to find one willing to tame to his hand and accept a bond with him. So far, however, his luck was pitifully lacking.
And now this.
Hands resting on his hips, he scowled down at it for a long moment before slowly lifting his gaze to peer at his surroundings. Like much of the human world following the Ravening, there was little left to see of what human civilization had once been. The rapid growth of the forests and wildlands intruding on this world from the fairy realms had warped the entire landscape, leaving most buildings little more than rubble. The roads were most of what remained, and the scattering towns and cities that had not yet fallen to the wilds.
Yet.
That was an important word to remember, reminding him that this world was in a state of flux. Not yet as wild as the fae lands, or even the borders of the Eternal Forest, but enough to bring a sense of familiarity to him where at once the land would have felt flat and dead beneath his feet. Instead, he felt the hum of magic twisting within the roots of the world and teasing his every nerve ending with its pulse.
The break in the forest let moonlight stream all around him along the long stretch of grass meadows that ran concurrent with the vast road that Selvan’s mate, Diana, had called a highway. There was a touch of mist that hung over the grass in that late hour and a distinct chill in the air, but otherwise everything was so shrouded in night and gloom, an impenetrable darkness with the starless night sky that stretched overhead, that Raskyuil could not see the trees, not even those that he had passed only a handful of minutes ago. The dense fog and darkness rose all around him. Somewhere in the distance he thought he caught a glimmer of light, and then he froze, his body straining as he listened for whatever lurked out there in the night beyond the scope of his vision.
Trolls had great vision, but not even an aelf could see clearly in the thick shadows that clawed their way through the fog and enveloped the world in such complete darkness that he felt a cold prickle rush over his skin.
There was something out there. He was certain of it. He just had to strain a little more and perhaps he would see something. Perhaps he would hear something. And then, as luck had it, he caught the faintest of sounds on the night air.
His ear twitched as a soft tinkling sound met his ear. Turning his head slowly toward the sound, his frown grew more severe as the shadowy form of wagons broke out from the night, the hanging lanterns bobbing as pale, ghostly horses snorted and pranced, their manes tossing and tails flagging as they broke over the ground. The dark canopies and wagons swayed like living shadows making their way across the landscape, a monstrous creature that crawled over the earth to devour everything in sight. Although it moved quickly, it seemed to creep to Raskyuil with the oily glide of shadows upon it. It was shadow and music moving together, whispering and calling as it passed in a way that was obvious and to which even Raskyuil wasn’t entirely immune. The wagons heading toward him creaked and jangled with dozens of silver bells. His jaw hardened as he stepped back from the road, his eyes narrowing on them as they drew closer and began to slow.
Their sudden presence was quite fortuitous. And suspicious.
Having spent his entire lifespan in the Eternal Forest, he did not trust many of the fairy folk. Selvans aside, he had little trust for anyone who wasn’t a troll—or a dryad, since dryads were more interested in caring for their own trees than causing mischief. He supposed that there were many other fine males and females among the fair folk, but there were just as many whom one couldn’t trust to turn their back to.
Still, he was alone, and it was dark, he reasoned as the fore wagon slowed to halt and Raskyuil was able to make out the dark harnesses and plumes upon the mares. A male in well-stitched clothes, though travel-worn, rode up from the other side of the wagon, his mount kicking up small clouds of dust and dirt. Unlike many of the fairy races, the male looked nearly human, though with finer features, his clothing in earthen shades of the wood elves. His bright green eyes bore into Raskyuil before turning to the cloaked male driving the wagon, a dialect of elvish speech lilting from his tongue.
The driver leaned toward the male as he listened, his gaze only shifting toward Raskyuil briefly before returning to the princeling wood aelf commanding his attention. Raskyuil watched the exchange impatiently, an annoyed growl starting up in his chest at being the obvious subject of their conversation and yet a hostage of their interest as they regarded him from their perches.
Grabbing his bag from his bike, he hoisted it over his shoulder, determined to be on his way whether the pair of them were done gawking at him or not. He gave his bike one more woeful look and bit back a sigh. No point in taking it when he did not know how to get it running again.
Running his hand over his braid, a low, resentful growl for his terrible luck stirred in his chest as he looked away from the fairy wagon train and into the darkness. The road disappeared into that void, and he had no idea how far he would have to travel to get to the next common outpost. Scattered across the land, the outposts were nominally inhabited mostly by fae beings, though humans made their way in and out of them to barter and rest the same as the rest of them. Those who had the backbone for such a thing, anyway, as many humans were too petrified to even approach an outpost for fear of encountering “monsters” there.
With his bike out of commission, it would take him even longer to get to the next one to resupply. He would have to rely solely on his hunting to get by, which was a depressing thought. A male could only eat a skinny rabbit so many times before he grew heartily sick of consuming naught else.
Suddenly the driver spoke a few hurried words in a reverent tone to the aelf, breaking Raskyuil’s direction of thought so that he glanced over as the male’s head bowed low to the aelf. He then turned in his seat to look at Raskyuil, his eyes sharp with wariness, while the mounted male watched on with a carefully neutral expression.
“Master Elwyn wishes to bid you a most glorious evening, troll,” he began in his hurried, rasping speech like two cork boards dragged against each other with his every word. “He informs me that he has use for a male of such obvious size and strength and extends a most generous offer to you should you desire it.”
“I have no interest in a princeling’s bed,” Raskyuil retorted with a snort, “so you can put that idea to rest right there.”
The driver gaped at him, and the aelf at the other side of the wagon smiled, his expression cold as his kind tended to look. For all the passion that ran through the fae races, the elves were the most difficult to figure out and buried everything under an icy reserve that felt unnatural to any troll, Raskyuil included.
“I have no need of your body in that fashion,” the aelf, Elwyn, interrupted, speaking for himself as he hushed the protesting driver. “I suffer no lack in that department to require it,” he added with a thin smile. “But I do have other uses that could benefit us both considerably.”
Raskyuil frowned, suspicious. “Go on.”
He dipped his head and, to Raskyuil’s annoyance, gestured for the driver to continue. The other male nodded quickly and launched into a rapid-fire proposal. “We have not seen many trolls since crossing over, and fewer before,” the male began warily, his dark blue eyes searching Raskyuil from a face that was coarse with hints of rough wood and root beneath the skin. “Your kind is valuable, and Master Elwyn does not pass up an opportunity to capitalize on a valuable asset,” he rasped. “Master Elwyn would be most pleased if you would consider joining our humble family.”
Raskyuil squinted at him. A family was being offered, was it? An appeal to his sentimentality as a lone male? It was all he could do to not laugh. Little did they understand that such manipulation seldom worked on trolls. Trolls lived in tightly connected family groups and clans to which they were loyal, such as he had been unfailingly loyal to Selvans, his king, but trolls did not seek out outsiders. He felt no need or compulsion to find a nest to settle in. That said, his bikedidrequire repairs, and hewastired and hungry with little remaining supplies.
He grunted and rubbed his large hand against the rough texture of his jaw. “I do not need a family, but I could use food and a safe place to rest while I work on repairs,” he said, nodding to his bike.
Lord Elwyn’s cold gaze dropped to the bike, and the hard corners of his mouth curled faintly. “Yes, it seems you do,” he replied, cutting the driver off. “Very well. A male of such obvious strength—and discipline, I wager—would be very useful for the security team. Train my males, watch over our camps, and I will provide you with everything you need for as long as you are with us.”
“And should I decide to leave your company tomorrow?” Raskyuil growled, the deep and gravelly sound making the driver wince and draw back further into his seat.
For his part, Elwyn did not appear intimidated or even slightly disturbed. A cold smile pulled at his mouth as he smoothed the sleeves of his velvet jacket and straightened his cloak. “Then you may leave with all debts considered paid,” he said, his voice flat though firm with his authority.
As suspicious as Raskyuil tended to be of strangers—especially ones that seemed to materialize out of nowhere in the night—the offer and conditions were too good to pass up and reject out of hand. He would not be indebted to them, which took a considerable weight off of his mind. He wasn’t trapped among their company. He could pick up and leave at any time.
In the distance the snort of other horses filled the air, and he craned his neck, catching the faint fire-trails of lanterns gleaning from the wagons stretching out behind the first one. He could not even begin to guess how many wagons were there.
