The Curse of Greg Read online

  I jogged into the forest after them, ignoring the Bloodletter’s jeers.

  Of course what I didn’t know was that we were about to come face-to-face with a savage monster we’d already met once before.

  CHAPTER 9

  We Become Fancy Dinner Party Hors D’oeuvres

  We wandered aimlessly through the forest (dodging savage attacks from birds and little critters along the way) for nearly an hour before we spotted the first signs of him.

  It started with the discovery of a dead animal. What kind of animal was impossible to tell based on the condition of the carcass. It had been relatively small, smaller than a deer at least. What was left of it now was just a heap of fur and crushed bones.

  “Gross,” Ari said, looking away.

  “Yummy,” Glam said, clearly just trying to make Ari uncomfortable.

  Looks like my ex-wife’s cooking, the Bloodletter said.

  “What would do something like this?” I asked, ignoring my ax’s lame joke.

  “Tis be but Eagan be’est in thyne company,” Lake said longingly. “Ye gent’s knowledge of ye pantheon of beasts runneth vast.”

  He was right, maybe Eagan would know. But he wasn’t here. So we’d need to rely on ourselves. Besides, it was like Eagan always said: We were in the same classes as he was, there was no reason we couldn’t have collectively learned just as much. Plus, Eagan always insisted he wasn’t even the top student in our Monsterology class. I had an idea as to who might be, though.

  “Froggy?” I asked, turning toward him. “You seemed to know a lot about the Gargoyle during the last MPM. What do you think?”

  He shrugged and said, “Could be a lot of things. This isn’t much to go on.”

  “Maybe it was a Nekimara?” I suggested. “Based on the lack of blood around the carcass.”

  “No, those are too small,” Ari said.

  “How do you know it’s bigger?” Glam asked.

  “Well, the eyewitness accounts, for one,” Ari said. “And also that.”

  She pointed to a pair of trees that had clearly been smashed apart to create a walking path for something huge. At least as large as a bear, but probably a lot larger. Beyond the Y of the split-open trees were several more uprooted ones that had been hastily shoved out of something’s way.

  It was a trail to follow, of sorts.

  And at the end we’d find something big enough to smash apart full-grown hemlock trees like tissue paper. And savage enough to crush small animals into unrecognizable piles of fur and bones.

  So naturally we headed toward whatever that something was.

  Glam took a drink of Galdervatn from her small bison-hide flask, then passed it back to me. I took a drink and handed it to Ari. After taking a sip, she replaced the stopper and handed it back to Glam. Since Lake and Froggy didn’t have the Ability to do magic, there wasn’t a need for them to drink any.

  We followed the creature’s destructive trail for nearly a quarter of a mile, deeper into the woods. The terrain slowly sloped up a hill and grew rockier. As the trees became sparser, we would have lost its track (since it no longer needed to smash trees out of its way to get past) if it weren’t for the missing rocks.

  Every few feet, we’d come across a huge hole that had once presumably housed a massive boulder or two. In some cases, we could even see where a section of stone had been sheared away from an exposed chunk of bedrock by unimaginably brute force.

  Pfft, I could do that, too, the Bloodletter said. Easily.

  Either way, it became abundantly clear that this thing was collecting rocks.

  “It’s like Dunmor said,” Froggy said as we stopped near a particularly massive hole in the dirt with the unmistakably angled impressions of a missing boulder at the bottom.

  “What do you mean?” Glam asked.

  “He’s referring to when Dunmor said they suspect it’s a Rock Troll,” Ari answered. “Guess they were probably right.”

  “Do any other creatures like rocks besides—”

  My words were cut off by a shadow crossing my face. A shadow cast by a huge boulder soaring through the air, blocking out the sun. Heading directly at my head.

  I froze, too stunned to even attempt magic, and surely would have been smashed into Greg soup if not for a gust of wind hitting me right in the chest. It blasted me backward, out of the way of the boulder just before it slammed into the ground with a fat THUMP!

  The hard, gnarled roots of an old Red (Norway) pine tree broke my fall. I wasn’t sure whether to thank Glam or Ari for the magic that had just saved my life, but there wasn’t really time to ask. A thunderous, gravelly voice screaming from the top of the hill interrupted all customs of polite gratitude.

  “DISPERSE!” the voice bellowed. “NO MISAPPROPRIATE STONEY SILICATE MINERALS!”

  We let our gazes trace the path of missing stones up the hillside, which ended in a mostly treeless, rocky precipice. Beyond it was a much steeper drop-off leading to a shallow valley of uninterrupted pines and firs, hemlocks and spruces, among others. A dark, massive shape shifted behind the shadow of the tall rock formation at the height of the cliff.

  “We don’t want your rocks!” Ari shouted up at the shape. “We just want to talk! Promise!”

  “FABRICATOR!” the voice bellowed. “ENTIRETY MOR-TALS, STONEY NOTWITHSTANDING, PREVARICATORS AND DECEIVERS!”

  “The vocabulary on this thing!” Glam said. “Are we sure it’s a Rock Troll? I mean, Dunmor and all the ancient texts say they’re pretty dumb.”

  The beast at the top of the hill cried out in a thunderous rage.

  Welp, I’ve heard enough, the Bloodletter said. Come on, Greggdroule, let’s get on up there and hack this thing to bits. Little tiny bits that we can use as a garnish on our chicken salads.

  The creature finally stepped forward into the sunlight. It was indeed a Rock Troll, as the Council had suspected, large vocabulary or not. At least twelve feet tall and nearly as wide. Its skin was gray and brown earth tones, angular and cleaved like stone.

  But Rock Trolls were not actually made of stone, at least not according to the old Separate Earth cryptozoology texts. Obviously no living Rock Trolls had been examined or studied since the times of Separate Earth; according to ancient books, their skin felt like hard stone, but it was made of a wholly organic material, not too dissimilar from elephant or rhino skin, though certainly much tougher. In fact, back then, some Dwarven sects used to make armor from Rock Troll hides, claiming it to be stronger than most metals. The old texts also claimed that Rock Trolls had the brain capacity of a three-year-old Human, at best (though I certainly had never met a toddler who knew the word prevaricator—heck, I didn’t even know what it meant and I’d gotten into a prestigious school on an academic scholarship). The old books also claimed that Rock Trolls were mostly good for manual labor, that is if one could find a way to properly control them. One suggested method had been offering them rocks and gems to appease them, the rarer the better (with a few exceptions).

  As he stood at the top of the hill glowering down at us, suspected thieves, I realized I recognized this Troll. It was the very same one that had tried to kill us all just a few months ago during the Battle of Hancock Tower.

  “Kurzol?” I asked.

  The Rock Troll cocked his head at me. Then he leaned back and roared at the sky so savagely that several dozen birds took flight from the trees in the valley below.

  “NOOOOOOO KURZOOOOL!” he screamed.

  He charged down the hill right toward us. A massive boulder was gripped in each hand, ready to bash several small Dwarves into a fine paste that would be spread on crackers and served at fancy Rock Troll dinner parties.

  CHAPTER 10

  Glam Settles Some Unfinished Business

  This time I did not freeze.

  It helped that Kurzol wasn’t a very fast runner. As he lumbered toward
us, he lifted up one of the boulders in preparation to launch it. But I summoned a spell that I had been relatively good at in class and other times of imminent peril.

  Several tree roots magically sprouted up from the earth in front of the Rock Troll. They clipped his feet and he fell. He tumbled end over end the rest of the way down the hill. But now we had a huge Rock Troll and two large boulders rolling freely toward us like we were bowling pins.

  A pretty typical end result for a Dwarf trying to help.

  “Jump!” I shouted.

  We all dove separate ways into the surrounding forest, just as Kurzol and the two boulders smashed into a cluster of black spruce trees immediately behind where we’d been standing.

  Before Kurzol fully recovered, Lake came charging at him from the woods, swinging a small ax madly around his head in wild circles, a maneuver our trainer Buck had dubbed the Executioner’s Windmill.

  “Lake, no!” Ari yelled. “Rule one!”

  But it was too late.

  Lake’s swinging ax collided with the Rock Troll. The blade clanked harmlessly off Kurzol’s midsection. He yelled out in rage and swatted Lake with a quick backhand—sending him flying at least thirty feet into the forest.

  “ERRONEOUS DESIGNATION KURZOL!” the Rock Troll screamed, climbing fully to his feet.

  Greggdroule, what are you waiting for? the Bloodletter said. Unsheathe me and fell this beast before he harms one of your friends!

  I willed myself to ignore the Bloodletter, as hard as that was to do. I wasn’t going to give in to violence so easily this time. We had to try to calm this thing down before we simply destroyed it. We owed it to Dunmor, at the very least, for giving us a second chance.

  Don’t be a fool, Greggdroule! He’ll kill you all!

  Kurzol grabbed his face, still howling in frustration. Then he spotted me. He ripped a young eastern white pine tree free from the ground by its trunk and started swinging it around like a flyswatter as he charged at me.

  “Stop!” I yelled. “Stop, Kurzol!”

  But this only made him angrier.

  “NO KURZOL!” he yelled, his gravelly voice almost shrill now. “KURZOL INCONGRUOUS NOMENCLATURE!”

  I dove out of the way of his tree club. The roots smashed into a bush behind me as I scrambled to my right. What was with this guy? What did he mean by Kurzol incongruous nomenclature?

  Who cares? Just fell the thing with my blade and be done with it! We may still even have time to grab that pizza later.

  “I don’t think he likes his name, Greg!” Ari yelled as she grabbed me by the shirt and helped me dodge another wild swing from the Rock Troll’s tree club. “Stop calling him Kurzol!”

  “I remember you now!” Glam yelled, standing in the middle of the clearing. “Come on, Fluffy, let’s finish what we started!”

  She threw down her two massive broadswords and motioned for the Rock Troll to come at her.

  Oh, yes, this girl gets it, the Bloodletter said excitedly. I should have chosen HER.

  “Glam, no!” Ari shrieked. “Rule one, guys! Rule one!”

  Kurzol grunted, looked at his tree, and then tossed it aside, apparently accepting Glam’s challenge to duke this out Dwarf to Troll, no weapons. He charged at her. Glam readied herself, her fists transforming into Glam-smash boulders.

  At the sight of her rock hands, Kurzol skidded to a stop, confused and amazed.

  “IGNEOUS INTRUSIVE FELSIC ROCK!” he said (even his confused voice sounded like a scream—it turned out Trolls had only two volumes: loud, and deafening). He pointed at Glam’s hands. “APPENDAGES MUSCOVITE GRANITE! MY METACARPALS GRANITE?”

  He’s distracted, now’s your chance, Greggdroule! the Bloodletter squealed. Slay the beast and then we’ll build a cool fort with its carcass! No girls allowed, of course.

  “No, not yet,” I said under my breath.

  Though I knew if Kurzol recovered his wits and killed Glam in the next few seconds, it would all be my fault.

  Yeah, it will be, the Bloodletter confirmed.

  Glam wasn’t sure what to do with the confused Rock Troll now just staring at her hands. She raised the boulder fists and motioned for him to charge again.

  “Yeah, you!” she sneered. “I’m going to use these to smash your face, Fluffy! Let’s see what you got. Come on.”

  “RELINQUISH GRANITE APPENDAGES!” Kurzol roared.

  “No, get your own!” Glam said. “No Kurzol smash! These Glam smash!”

  “KURZOOOLLL NOOOO!” he screamed, and reared back a massive Troll fist.

  Glam was ready, taking a defensive position. But it didn’t help. Kurzol’s fist slammed into her chest.

  FLUMP!

  Glam grunted as she flew backward into the forest.

  “Everyone, stop calling him Kurzol!” Ari yelled.

  At the sound of the name he apparently hated, the Rock Troll spun around, glaring at Ari, his pure black eyes barely visible behind the rock-like crags of his forehead and eyebrows.

  “You are not Kurzol!” she said quickly. “We know that.”

  “KURZOL,” the Rock Troll thundered calmly. “THRALL-DOM MONIKER.”

  “Kurzol was your . . . slave name?” Ari asked.*

  “ELF IMPOSE MISNOMER KURZOL,” he agreed.

  “What is your real name, then?” Ari asked, pointing at him and then herself. “I’m Ari.”

  “STONEY,” he said.

  “Stoney?” Ari asked, pointing back at him.

  “STONEY!” he yelled, pounding his chest.

  “Stoney, we just want to talk,” Ari said.

  “DISALLOWED!” he yelled. “FALSIFIERS. STONEY CAN-DID. OTHERS UNSCRUPULOUS.”

  This is getting nowhere, Greggdroule, the Bloodletter pleaded, sounding desperate, almost whiny. Grab me. Chop off his leg. Then the other one. Ooh, we can cut off all his limbs and build a raft with them!

  Ari was about to plead her case again, but it was no use. Stoney (the Rock Troll formerly known as Kurzol) was convinced that everyone but him was a liar. And having lived with Elves for who knows how long, it was hard to blame him. He took several threatening steps toward Ari.

  “DECEIVERS!” he shouted.

  But he stopped because Froggy had appeared out of nowhere and stood right in his path. He was unarmed. In fact, he wasn’t even wearing his combat belt lined with throwing axes anymore. Instead, Froggy held only a single rock in his hands. It was roughly the size of a golf ball, black and shiny.

  Froggy said nothing, but simply held out the rock toward Stoney as an offering.

  “OBSIDIAN,” Stoney said. “BESTOW STONEY?”

  Froggy nodded.

  Stoney took another step forward, then delicately reached out with fingers the size of Froggy’s legs and deftly plucked the pebble-size (to him) stone from Froggy’s outstretched hand. He examined it carefully, his face twisted into an odd expression that I could only imagine was a Rock Troll’s version of a smile.

  Then he suddenly reached forward and wrapped his arms around Froggy and lifted him up. He squeezed him to his chest as we all cried out in alarm. Were it not for Froggy’s half- Dwarven bones, he’d surely already have been crushed like a paper cup. But just the same, his face was turning red from the pressure and his silent gasps told us he couldn’t breathe.

  Stoney was going to squeeze Froggy to death.

  Greggdroule, help him! the Bloodletter screamed.

  My hand instinctively drew back and gripped its handle. As soon as my fingers grazed the cold metal, I felt an overwhelming urge to pull it free and cleave Stoney in two. I was suddenly convinced that if I didn’t, Froggy would die. I envisioned myself swinging the wicked blade at the Troll, slicing it effortlessly through the air.

  Glam, who had recovered from the massive punch to her torso, drew her sword, also ready to rush in to the rescue.<
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  “CONSIDERABLE GRATITUDE!” Stoney cried out as he kept squeezing.

  He wasn’t trying to hurt Froggy; he was merely hugging him to say thanks. Hugging him to death, though. I let go of the Bloodletter (much to its dismay) and my bloodlust faded. The ax sighed sadly.

  “Okay, okay, Stoney!” I shouted. “You’re hurting him now.”

  Stoney cocked his head at me like he didn’t get it, but his hug loosened, as evidenced by Froggy’s desperate but now audible gasps for air.

  “CONTRARY STONEY OBJECTIVE!” he said, sounding alarmed.

  “We know you didn’t mean to,” Ari said. “He accepts your thanks.”

  “You can put him down now,” I said. “It’s okay.”

  “Alloweth wend ye gent posthaste!” Lake shouted. “Lest thy gratitude doth procure ye gent’s premature demise!”

  Stoney nodded and finally released Froggy.

  He fell to the ground, wheezing. Glam sheathed her sword.

  “STONEY EMBRACE NATIVE MAMMALS!” the Rock Troll said, sounding sad. “GESTICULATION CEASES. STO-NEY EMBRACE, VITALITY TERMINATES. WOODLAND AGGREGATE POPULACE ABHORS STONEY.”

  “Omigods, guys,” Ari said (apparently secretly a walking thesaurus herself). “He wasn’t out here killing deer and other animals to be vicious. He was just hugging them. Not even aware of his own strength! He was literally loving animals to death.”

  “Heh, pretty funny,” Glam said.

  “No!” Ari said. “It’s so sad! The poor animals. And poor Stoney.”

  I helped Froggy to his feet as Ari walked toward Stoney.

  “You must be so lonely!” she said, reaching out to pat the Rock Troll’s arm.

  “ISOLATED STONEY,” he said. “STONEY DONATE IGNEOUS MINERALS AUTOMOBILES. ENDOW WOOD-LAND CREATURES AUTOMOBILES. AUTOMOBILES ABSCOND.”

  Ari translated for us, and then we all looked at one another in shock (and maybe a little sick amusement). The reports of him throwing dead animals and rocks at cars: He wasn’t trying to cause any harm or damage. They were gifts. He had been trying to make friends with the people in the cars.