Pool of Radiance - James M. Ward [95]
But it was the troll's skin that bothered Ren most. He had seen trolls in daylight, and he knew that their skin was always decaying and rotting, even as the creatures lived-just so much slime, mold, and fungus troweled onto greenish, tarlike flesh. Relieved that the night's filtered moonlight prevented him from seeing more clearly, he wasted no time dropping his rope over to the other side and swinging down to aid the valiant fighter.
He started by slopping oil from his fire flask on all the troll parts he could see. Flames shot up instantly as the magical fluid made contact with the arms, hands, and legs, and Ren was nearly overcome by the putrid smoke from the burning of wet flesh. Hunched over, fighting a cough that would not stop, Ren pivoted just in time to face the knees of the troll, which was now directing its attention to him. He thrust his short sword out between the troll's knobby legs and pulled straight up with all the strength he could muster. He ripped through flesh he did not want to think about, then staggered back and fell to the ground, just out of immediate reach of the troll's gargantuan hands. The nearly bisected creature bellowed with rage and lurched forward toward Ren.
It would have killed him on the spot were it not for the quick action of the warrior, still behind the troll, who swung a huge broadsword, low and level with the creature's pelvis. Razor-sharp metal, powered by the strength born of terror, ripped through skin and bone, and the troll's upper body flopped back onto the warrior's extended arms. Four-fingered hands, tipped with vicious, aquiline claws, reached by instinct alone and began tearing into the fighter's upper arms. Ren crab-crawled to avoid the amputated legs that were still stalking his way, and then rolled, stood, and dodged beyond them. He leaped forward and immediately began hacking at the creature's upper body, which was clinging to the shoulders of the enraged warrior. The troll didn't loosen its grip until Ren severed its arms from its hands, and even then Ren had to yank the clawing hands from the fighter's shoulders. Again he threw oil, and again there was a terrible stench as the troll flesh burned and smoked.
The warrior collapsed, whether from the wounds or the smoke, Ren wasn't sure. It wasn't until Ren reached down to lift the prostrate form that he realized he knew the fighter. Her blonde hair was stuffed into a fighting helm, but he recognized the face as that of one of the women he had jested with just days before at the inn. Jen-what was it? Jensena? Yes, that was it. The other two fighters must be her two companions, he realized. As soon as he had moved Jensena away from the smoldering troll bits and patted the gouges on her shoulders with a blotting powder he carried, he checked the other two. They were both dead. He pulled their bodies up alongside the wall, along with their purses and light weapons. Guards could pick them up in the morning-if they were still intact.
Ren got a good hold on Jensena and started up the rope. While she didn't rival Tempest, much less Shal, for size, Jensena was still a big woman, and all muscle. Lugging her to the top of the wall was no mean feat, and Ren felt unanticipated relief when she started to rouse as they descended the other side. At first she just coughed and made pathetic squeaking noises as the coughing jarred her wounds. As soon as they reached the ground, Ren held her tight to keep the coughs from racking her body so hard, and when she seemed ready, he offered her some water. Still leaning against him, she tipped her head back and let him pour the water into her open mouth.
When she'd had her fill, she turned her head away. "Salen?… Gwen?"
"I'm sorry," said Ren softly. "Their bodies… are alongside the wall. In the morning-"
"Damn! Damn!"
Ren pulled the big woman closer and held her as she cried, gently at first, and then in hard, convulsive