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“Nothing yet. I must determine who they are. Then perhaps we can devise some sort of ritual to suffice in the absence of the tribe.”
“All right. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
It doesn’t take long to inspect the village again, more thoroughly this time. When I investigated this morning, I was in a hurry to get back to Oaklyn. Now I move slowly, with care.
I find four bodies, which is something of a relief. I had feared it would be more. Better still, three are unknown to me, which means they are Galkaj.
The only one I recognize is Marzon, a warrior who was more than fifty seasons in age. The arrow sticking out of his chest suggests he took a shot to the heart, which hopefully means he died instantly and without suffering.
There are no women and children among the dead, at least not here in the village, which is a great blessing.
Still, I am left with the problem of what to do. It is possible I might find dry logs if I went from cabin to cabin, as most of the villagers would have a small stockpile in their homes for the hearths.
But I doubt it would be enough to create the size pyre I need. Moreover, the rain is still falling in steady sheets, which would make it difficult to maintain a fire.
My only real option is burial, and at least the ground is soft. But to give burial rites to these enemy trolls causes discomfort in my stomach. That is a job for their own people.
As I stand, pondering, I hear a rustling in the woods to my right. I whirl, ready to fight with my bare hands, but relief courses through me when I see Rokahn picking his way through the trees.
To my surprise, Lakana is by his side. I had expected the newly acquired troll women to take advantage of the raid and return to their people. Then again, I have no way of knowing if the Galkaj evenaretheir people. Perhaps the women have been captured many times.
“Rokahn!” I call in greeting.
“Bradoc! You are alive.” He reaches me and grasps my forearms in greeting. “What is the status of the village?”
“Damaged and deserted. Only one Kalzak dead that I have found. Marzon.”
Rokahn lowers his head in respect for the fallen warrior. “I hope he will find peace in the lands beyond the living.”
“As do I. There are also three dead Galkaj that must be dealt with. And the matter of where our people are.”
“Scattered,” says a low voice. I start. It is the first time I have truly heard Lakana speak, beyond her acknowledgement of Rokahn when he chose her.
“Explain,” I say.
“It is part of the Galkaj strategy. One I know well. They come in a swarm, overpowering a village. They destroy what they can, they take who they can, and the rest? They drive away. They leave no one remaining. They will give chase for miles. If your people are still alive, it may take some time for them to return. Especially in these the conditions.” She gestures loosely at the rain and fallen branches.
“That is a dishonorable practice,” Rokahn says darkly.
Lakana shrugs. “Perhaps. But it is effective.”
“Why have they never done this to us before?” I wonder.
“There is only one reason,” she says. “They never considered your tribe a threat before. Now it would seem that they do.”
“Ourtribe,” Rokahn corrects quietly.
Lakana bows her head. “Yes, husband. I misspoke.”
I glance at my fellow warrior. “Do we simply wait for our people to return? With only the two of us to search, it could take months to find them.” The idea of doing nothing chafes at me.
Rokahn raises his palms, his helplessness plain. “I do not know.”
I sigh. “You should go to your cabin and determine its condition. I must check on Oaklyn.”
The other trolls nod and move past me, and I return to my wife. She’s still sitting where I left her, looking sad.
“What is wrong?” I ask.
