The Chosen by Kris Kramer (best novels ever txt) 📖

The short and dainty nuathreens shrieked and danced around a wild pack of adolescent cave spiders that were intent on devouring the diminutive warriors. Liam immediately noticed that both screaming nuathreens wielded two swords, but he used the word wielded loosely. These were no Thorns. No, these were merely trackers, far inferior to the Thorn in blade skill, but at least they could dodge better than a three-legged dog with a cold.

In Liam’s mind, one of the trademarks of any good melee fighter involved the correct and appropriate use of catchphrases. For example, to mark the occasion of charging into battle, Liam had coined the phrase, “I’m flyin’ in!” Brian hadn’t reached the stage in his training yet where he deserved the use of such exclamations of intent, at least, not in Liam’s estimations. Of course, Liam already had a collection of suggestions for Brian to use, such as, “I’m going deep!” Yes, that was a solid suggestion.

With his well-practiced war cry and a totally unnecessary burst of speed, Liam roared through the cave spiders, hacking and slashing in a blur of motion usually reserved for humans running to the outhouse after a close encounter with firbolg cuisine. Within seconds, a gory mess of twitching spider remains lay strewn across the tunnel floor, walls, and ceiling. The two blood-splattered nuathreens stood in what Liam assumed could only be complete and unadulterated awe.

Without waiting for the two to snap out of their worshipful trance, Liam sheathed one of his shiny blades and used the other to remove a few intact spider legs to sell to the witches back aboveground. Those crazy old hags were always looking for such ingredients to stir into those foul-smelling—and foul-tasting—stews of theirs.

A sharp object poked Liam in the buttocks. He turned to stare into the eyes of a bloodied and fuming nuathreen. Their physical appearance always put a smile on Liam’s face. They had such small and fragile bodies that were topped off with a disproportionately large head. Sitting on his haunches, Liam stood eye-to-eye with the nuathreen, whose green cloak was secured around his scrawny neck by a hawk brooch, confirming his membership in King Darren’s trackers.

“Just what in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, mate?” asked the scowling nuathreen.

Confused, the noble Thorn replied, “How do you do, nuathreen? I am Liam, and I am just collecting my fee.”

The scowl turned furious.

“Your fee? Your fee for what exactly, mate?”

Liam didn’t have much experience chatting with nuathreens, but he suspected that the tracker didn’t mean mate in a literal sense, or in any positive sense for that matter. Confusing creature.

“For saving you and your companion, of course.”

“You’ve lost the plot, you have!” exclaimed the nuathreen. “You believe this git, Gil? This bloke says he saved us. Like we needed savin’!”

“Aye, a right pile of shite that is, Bruce” added the second nuathreen, Gil apparently.

The pair continued to babble in increasingly quick language that Liam recognized less and less. Coming from a noble, southern birth had left the Thorn a bit out of touch with northern forest-folk like these, but no matter what, the protocol was clear: If no reward was offered for services rendered, then no reward would be taken. Also, Liam had to remain honorable and polite, despite the nuathreens’ rudeness. Well, he suspected they were being rude; it was hard to tell at this point.

“Of course you are correct, little masters. We will be on our way now. Come, Brian.”

Liam could hear the continued verbal foray as he and Brian wandered off back the way they had come.

“Who is he calling little masters? I’ve got a good mind to brain that eejit.”

“Aye, right you are, Bruce.”

“The pair on that bloke, thinking he can steal from us!”

“Aye, can’t believe it myself, Bruce.”

Their ungrateful animosity perplexed Liam. Surely they should appreciate his help. As far as he’d seen at the time, those spiders had held the upper hand against the outmatched and undersized nuathreens. The feisty little trackers certainly had heart, but they seemed to lack the necessary skills to succeed in close quarters combat. And despite having heart, the pair certainly lacked manners. Any rescued individual should always show their appreciation to the rescuer, preferably with money, but spider legs would also suffice. How would word of his altruistic exploits gain him fame if the recipients of his aid didn’t praise his name from the rooftops, or at least yell his name throughout the tunnels of Teekwood Caverns?

“THORN! HELP!”

The high-pitched scream piqued Liam’s curiosity. Obviously a damsel in distress had heard of his grand accomplishments, and in her darkest hour had called out his name. He stopped in the tunnel and looked around for connecting passageways. Now, where could she be?

“Liam, those nuathreens are coming,” Brian said.

The interruption broke Liam from his search for his endangered fair maiden. Irritated at his presumptuous student, he looked back down the tunnel and saw the pair of trackers sprinting their big hearts out and screaming their little lungs out. So that at least explained the womanlike squeals for help. Liam was sorely disappointed. He hadn’t rescued a lady in a while, and they always offered a reward, and not always in silver pieces.

Unfortunately, Liam had no time to reminisce about his female conquests. The nuathreens ran with good reason: A horde of bloodthirsty hulks stomped after them. Torchlight reflected off the scaly, armored hides as the monstrous creatures made up ground on the trackers, whose twig-like legs moved in a blur.

A less honorable man would’ve definitely yelled something along the lines of, “Wait, so now you need my help?”

Liam looked at Brian and smiled. Brian carefully smiled back, looking a bit confused. Ah, what a treat the young firbolg was in for. It wasn’t every day that Liam encountered a mass of foes who would stress his fighting ability to its gloriously high limits. In preparation, Liam ran a hand slowly through his luxurious, wavy brown hair.

“Watch and learn, my young apprentice,” Liam announced, drawing both of his swords from the sheaths that protected the rest of the world from them.

Legs pumping with reckless abandon, Liam charged directly towards his incoming victims, yelling, “I’m flyin’ in!”

He leapt over the fleeing nuathreens, one of whom may have said, “What the bloody hell?”

All but one of the hulks slowed to a cautious lope at Liam’s fearless approach, a little unsure what to make of this heroic human, Liam was sure. Only one, obviously the leader, continued its stampede towards the Anduains. The beast growled loudly and hefted a large, meaty fist over its head. The giant appendage didn’t faze Liam; he’d fought larger and meatier fists in his time.

The two combatants closed in, and the hulk’s gargantuan fist plummeted to the ground on which Liam stood. He gracefully evaded to the left and thrust a blade towards the hulk’s exposed side. The sword scratched harmlessly across thick armor, indicating to Liam that this foe wasn’t the run-of-the-mill hulk that he’d fought in the past. Liam easily gave up at least one foot in height and one hundred and fifty pounds in weight to his furious adversary, whose raging red eyes now found their target.

The large arm moved sideways with amazing speed, performing a wicked cross-cut as Liam ducked and evaded once more. Parrying the blow seemed a bit out of the question considering the heft behind the fist. This creature had ludicrously stumpy legs but was all heft in the upper body department. As the hulk’s flailing arm created a rush of air over his head, Liam looked up to see the hulk’s legs open before him. A crease in the enemy’s armor exposed flesh on the inner thigh. Liam’s sword found the spot, slicing through the relatively soft piece of hide, right down to the bone.

Without waiting for the hulk’s cry of panic to reach his ears, Liam jumped straight up and grabbed onto the back of the hulk’s head-crest with his left hand. Pulling down hard enough on the boney ridge to keep his own feet floating off the ground, Liam sliced at the beast’s stout, scaly neck.

The blade slid right off, not even causing a nick in the tough skin. A shake from the hulk’s head sent Liam sprawling to the floor. The hulk’s muscle-bound arm swung above its head once more, ready to finish its dazed opponent. Liam looked up in a haze, now a little worried about the outcome of the fight. Victory had seemed assured, but now he’d fallen behind.

Before the mighty fist could start its deadly descent, a pair of arrows ripped into the hulk’s face, right between the eyes. The animal collapsed backwards immediately, a fountain of blood spraying the ceiling in a messy arc. Liam closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his nerves feeling a little shot by his brush with near-death.

“It’s about time you moved your arse out of the way,” declared a high voice behind Liam.

Liam rolled his eyes. Such gentlemen.

But they had saved him, so did that make them even? Did he owe them anything? Surely not. The thought of owing anyone anything made Liam’s head hurt.

“Well, this can’t get any worse,” he muttered.

A small herd of hulks nearby seemed to believe otherwise.

Chapter 13

Life in the fire-lit tunnel stood still for a moment. The flickering light from the sporadically placed torches illuminated figures as stiff as statues. One body in particular lay more still than all the others. In fact, the only movement around the recently killed hulk chief was the pulsating flow of blood still pouring from its broken face.

Over his shoulder, Liam saw Bruce and Gil nock another arrow each. The ground trembled again and Liam’s thoughts of the fight already being won left in a hurry. Some races gave up fighting as soon as their leader died; apparently hulks didn’t ascribe to that school of combat.

Liam flipped off his back and onto his feet as a torrent of arrows passed by his head, hurtling towards the incoming stampede. Snarls and grunts echoed off the walls as Liam spun through his assailants, slashing out at any exposed weaknesses. A few of the lesser beasts fell quickly to his strikes, but the larger breed’s hide kept Liam’s blades at bay.

The hulks completely ignored the archers raining down pain upon them from afar. They’d just watched their chief die and apparently blamed Liam for it, because they spun around him in a circle of furious and untamed violence. That suited the brave Thorn just fine. He parried heroically, struck out forcefully, and then cocked his head to the side when he thought he heard a deep voice yell, “I’m flyin’ in!”

He really hoped that he’d misheard and that Brian was not joining the fray. More importantly, that had better not have been Brian using Liam’s signature battle cry!

Now completely surrounded by thrashing hulks, the dodging Thorn found himself in the deep shadow of unbridled rage. His blades glowed in a faint red as they sliced through the darkness, piercing their targets over and over. His magical sword ripped into the arm of one beast, unleashing the blade’s power as a burning eruption. The resulting flame burned out quickly, but the panicked enemy toppled into one of its own, crashing both to the floor. Not one to wait for an invitation, Liam flipped forward and drove a blade into the throat of each hulk, ending their shrieks for help.

Liam felt the shadow around him deepen. He turned to see a dark form flying across the tunnel towards him. The collision pinned Liam to the wall, winding him momentarily. He freed one of his arms and raised a sword, ready to impale his assailant, but then saw Brian’s enormous head in the dim light.

“Brian! Get off me! I must lay waste to these brigands!” Liam yelled, trying to wrestle his way out from underneath the large firbolg.

With a deep grunt, Brian rolled out of the way and Liam stood, collecting himself. After a quick check that his tattooed biceps looked impressive in the torchlight, Liam put up his blades and rushed the few hulks remaining on their feet. The closest beast rumbled towards Liam and abruptly crashed to the floor with a growl. Liam could see no less than fourteen arrows peppering the massive monster’s back.

The last two enemies saw defeat and ran, stumbling over their fallen brothers in their haste. One dropped to a barrage of arrows from the nuathreens and the other escaped into the gloom, crying loudly. As much as