Chương 16: Crossing the river

Rayne's feet sank into the muddy bottom of the river and he almost cursed at the cold water, even under the sun. It rushed past him in roaring waves, threatening to make him lose his balance, and the gear he carried overhead in the river. The water had been calmer near the bank, but the current had grown stronger the deeper they got. If not for the ford Bran knew of, they wouldn't have been able to cross it.

"Holy mother of Henrexa, I can't feel my legs. The water wasn't so freezing when I took a sip out of it," Nate muttered behind him.

"I haven't even spent a month in the army. Why the hell am I here with you sorry lot?"

"You're a forsaken," said Kesh, stumbling just behind him.

"I should be asking that. The army throws your lot to the frontlines all the time, but I signed up as a common soldier." Rayne managed to glance past Nate to see Kesh's hair and gear all wet. He had nearly slipped entering the river.

"It's probably because you hang out with us, and Axel won't miss you if you die," he said.

"I doubt Axel misses anyone but his red bottles," Nate snickered, looking down at the river. The water level rose rapidly from their calves to their waists. The farther they went, the stronger the flow tugged at them, threatening to drag them off their feet. Halfway through, Rayne felt it reach his chest and neck. He took a deep breath and pushed on as he always did.

"You all should stop talking and focus on crossing the river," Bran said from the other side as he put back his gear. Marco and Heins sat in front of a tree next to him. The former scratched a distinctive scar around his cheek while the latter yawned.

"The reason we were chosen is because we found the most nests."

"Then it's Rayne's fault," said Nate.

"He's dragging us with him just because Axel hates him."

"I believe the whole fort hates me," Rayne said before throwing his gear on the bank. He hoisted himself up soon and took a sigh of relief, looking back at the current. One wrong step and he'd be swept away, waiting to be killed smashing into a rock. He sighed, picking up his gear and moving toward the tree. He chose one of the taller ones and leaned against it as the others slowly made their way to this side of the river. The trees were thicker here, and he could smell a foul scent in the air.

But that might just be his mind. Nate and Kesh came next, followed by John and an older man named Thomas. The latter wasn't a part of the party, but a messenger. He had been quiet all the way, and Rayne hadn't tried to talk to him either. Axel had apparently only allowed this many soldiers while handing them the quest to move into the caves that the trolls frequented and look for signs of an evolved troll warlord.

Even Bran had no information on that monster, but just by its name, it seemed strong, and not something he wanted to go against. Fortunately, they had strict orders to only confirm its existence and come back. Fighting wasn't necessary, even if he had been hoping to come across a normal troll. He didn't mind bleeding a bit to get a regeneration skill. Rayne didn't get to soak in the sun for long as Bran ordered them to wear their gear so they could be on their way deeper into the forests.

He slowly put on his chainmail armor, having gotten used to wearing it every day. While he did so, Nate and Kesh continued their earlier discussion.

"I believe Axel thinks us expendable," said Kesh, his voice flat.

"No sane squad leader sends their best-performing soldiers on a death quest." Nate scowled a little.

"Thanks for reminding me of that. A death quest." Bran sighed next to them.

"It's not a death quest. We won't be fighting anything and will run at the first sign of overwhelming danger. All of us have made a lot of gains in the past. I don't think we'll have any trouble."

"You're always optimistic, Bran," John grunted.

"I survived the army for years. I've been on much worse quests," he replied.

"Gear up fast. We'll move in five. No more talking now!" Rayne wondered what those quests were as they geared up. Surprisingly, Nate and Kesh took less time than him to wear their armor. It fit well, but his undershirt was still wet, making it a little uncomfortable. He could do nothing about it as they moved deeper into the forest, Bran leading them as usual in the formation they had already gotten used to. Thomas took the centre alongside John and Marco.

As he walked, he did wonder if there had been ulterior motives to the quest. Just by the look on Axel's face yesterday, Rayne felt like the man harbored ulterior motives for him. He knew there were veterans in the squad like Ardan and Hobbs. They should have been far more equipped to be on this quest instead of freshbloods like them. Out of all of them, there were four forsaken—Nate, John, Marco, and Rayne himself.

He knew Bran had offended someone important, but Kesh and Heins were new recruits probably caught up with them.

"What are you thinking?" Kesh said suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"That the army is trying to kill me." He flashed him a smile.

"I've been thinking the same thing since training camp." Rayne doubted Kesh understood him, but still he smiled at his words. There was no point thinking of things like this when he had no standing to do anything. He could only use this opportunity to get more skills and levels. They kept walking and he decided to use the opportunity to brush up on the scouting tips Bran had told them in the past week. He kept his eyes mostly on the ground and trees, noting how old they looked.

Here, in this part of the forest, the trees looked far older. Their trunks twisted like gnarled limbs reaching for the sky, and the canopy above let in only shards of sunlight. Moss coated everything—stones, bark, even fallen logs—and the air felt damp, heavy with silence. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. It was only broken occasionally by Nate complaining about bugs and Heins on his wet boots.

The rest stayed silent as they followed Bran, who walked with a certainty Rayne didn't share. He wondered when was the last time the veteran had stepped in this part of the forest, but kept following him without voicing his question. He saw occasional claw marks from time to time on the ground and the trees, but no monster bothered them. His only sighting was a small snake with blood-colored skin moving through the trees. It passed them by peacefully.

After the two-hour mark, Bran started to take occasional breaks to assess their surroundings and location before pulling them in another direction. It happened three times before Rayne sensed something in the air and paused. The others did the same as they looked at each other.

"Did you smell that?" Bran asked, looking back at them.

"Blood and death," Rayne said, and he confirmed with a nod.

"We're close. Let's keep walking." They moved slower now, constantly looking over their shoulders as if expecting a predator to jump out at any time. But the source of the stench soon revealed itself. Past a wall of dense thickets, the trees began to thin out. Beyond them, nestled against the base of a rocky rise, he saw the mouth of a cave yawn open. A carcass of what looked like a wolf lay in front of it, half eaten.

Blood had already dried up, but it had just been left there as if the one who had killed it had had its fill. The air grew colder as they approached the cave. The ground here was uneven and scattered with bones other than the carcass—some old, picked clean, others fresher with scraps of dried sinew clinging to them. He didn't recognize any human bones. If he hadn't gotten used to the smell and sight of death by now, Rayne wouldn't be able to stand with the others.

"This is one of the openings," Bran said, then looked down at the wolf corpse.

"It seems like a troll killed it and left it after eating enough. Poor beast."

"It didn't carry it with him." Marco raised an eyebrow.

"No. Trolls like hunting their prey, but they only eat till they fill their belly and then go back to sleep. If they get hungry again, they go out to hunt. Luckily, a troll can sleep for three to four days on average. Going by the state of the corpse, we're safe for now." Rayne looked down at the carcass, then back at the mouth of the cave. He saw nothing inside. It was all pitch black, as if a void was staring back at him.

"Are we going to go inside?" he asked.

"Yes," said Bran.

"If there's a troll warlord, it should be inside. We need to keep our weapons ready. I don't think we'll see any troll until further ahead. Most of them would be sleeping either way, but there would be other monsters in the cave."

"Like what?" Kesh asked, shuddering as he turned to look at the cave.

"Arkspiders, giant bats, and endworms," Bran said. Rayne frowned, having no information about any of those monsters.

"The trolls let them make their own colony through the caves and use them as fodder if they can't hunt any other beasts. They're mostly level 10–15 in these parts of the kingdom, so we should be okay."

"I doubt that," Nate said, and no one answered back. Thomas looked at the cave entrance, then back at Bran.

"I will stay here. If you all don't return in two hours, I will get the parties out in the forests to come look for you." Bran nodded.

"Okay. Everyone, we go inside in five minutes." All of them checked their gear for one last time and took out their weapons. Rayne held his shield right in front of him. He looked at Thomas who moved to the side towards a tree and felt a ping of jealousy at the safe job he had. Bran nodded at them before taking the lead, looking as fearless as ever. The light faded as they stepped into the cave. Rayne wondered if any of them had brought a torch before a glow emerged from where Bran stood.

A small stone glowed in his hands, illuminating their path, and Rayne saw the cave turn into a tunnel. A second of scanning his memories, and he realized the stone was a glowstone. A magical material often found in dungeons. The light of the glowstone flickered off the walls, casting long shadows that danced with every step. The floor sloped slightly downward after ten minutes, slick with moss and something thicker—something Rayne wasn't able to identify.

He felt chills slipping through his armor with each step and kept an eye on the walls. For a second, he almost imagined a spider jumping at them, but there was nothing. He frowned.

"I don't like caves."

"Wait till you enter a dungeon for the first time," John muttered in a whisper next to him.

"Some of them are magically imbued to not let glowstones or even torches work inside. They just suck in all the light. Those are creepy." His words took the attention of the others too as they looked at him. He flushed under their gazes and smiled.

"I was an adventurer for a bit. Just a few months, but I heard a lot of horror stories about dungeons."

"Do you also know about the troll warlord?" Kesh asked. John shook his head.

"No, I've never heard of one. I've heard of a troll shaman though, but they're rare. As for the warlord, I believe it's just another lord monster." Rayne raised an eyebrow. Lord monster? His memories knew nothing about that.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Oh, just monsters that evolve into lords. They get abilities to command others of their species, and any monster weak enough to not reject their influence. Most monster waves are due to a strong lord monster." Rayne wondered how strong the lord monsters were. He guessed he would find out if they actually found the troll warlord. But did that mean it was the reason the goblins were acting strange? It made sense for the goblins to abandon their nest if they were moving under the command of a stronger monster.

But it explained nothing about why they were suddenly setting traps. Did a lord have the ability to make some monsters smarter? Before he could ask John, he saw them stopping at an intersection. The tunnel divided into a fork. Both paths went down, but they needed to choose only one.

"Let's go right," said Bran, crouching on the ground.

"I see old footsteps on the right. Big ones. Probably trolls, but they're mangled. The path is probably used by more than one of them. If we don't see anything, we can come back and trace the left one." They continued walking. The paths grew slightly narrower here, but Rayne saw no signs of any trolls. The chill also increased and his nose stung at the foul smell in the air. With every step, he felt like he walked closer to a heap of corpses. It was that bad.

He decided not to ask more questions to John, feeling dread and danger. He gripped his hilt tighter. Next to him, Nate and Kesh's shoulders tensed too. Bran stopped suddenly, raising his hand to halt them. Rayne wondered what happened before he realized Bran had found something. He raised his hand so that the glowstone could cover every inch of the section of the tunnel they were in. He saw it then. A corpse slumped against the wall, not of a wolf, but of a human. It seemed to be a man, legs and arms already eaten.

A hole spread out in his torso, and the corpse seemed to be dissolving with acid gushing out of him. Whoever it was, he'd had a gruesome death. Heins went down at the sight, vomiting on the floor. Rayne felt the same, but he had long stopped having breakfast before heading into the field.

"Who did that?" Kesh asked.

"Was the man killed by a troll?"

"I don't know," said Bran, inspecting the body. Or what was left of it.

"Trolls normally don't have any preferences with a specific part of the body. And they don't torture. This looks more like the work of a—" Rayne heard it then. A clicking sound. So faint that he almost missed it. His head rose up to watch the ceiling. For a second, there was nothing, but then, it burst open, spraying dirt and stone at them. Spiders, the size of a wolf, jumped down in front of them and Rayne rolled on the ground as one of them landed right where he had been standing. His eyes widened at the sight.

Dozens of eyes stared back at him. Black chitinous armor covered their bodies, flickering light under the glowstone as they clicked their mandibles together and opened their mouths to hiss. Then one of them jumped right at him, a claw coming for his head.

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