Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [62]
And two enraged trolls were bearing down on him.
A sword fell from above, landing with a thud at his feet. Vell reached down and grasped its hilt. It was an elegantly curved elven blade, thinner and lighter than he had ever used, but it cut deep as he sliced a neat slash through a troll's neck-blood poured down its bare green chest. With a cry and a rush of air, a gigantic falcon swooped down next to him, tearing at the other troll's face, claiming both of its eyes with its sharp talons. Blind and howling, the troll batted at the bird and stumbled through the wood, bashing into trees as Lanaal circled and occasionally dived to strike again.
How long has it been since I fought as myself? Vell wondered. He felt good as he tore into the troll again and again, moving quickly to avoid its blows. A glorious swell filled his senses, and his heart awakened to barbarian joy. The troll clawed at his arm and wounded him, and he welcomed this too, the human pain and the feel of blood trickling down his body. To defeat the troll without his powers? A greater achievement by any account, he decided, slicing through his foe's leg and sending it toppling to the ground.
At last, he drew a small vial from a pocket inside his deerskin robes, also a gift from Lanaal. He uncorked it and emptied the contents onto the troll's ugly features.
The liquid hissed and bubbled down the troll's face, trickling off its chin onto its chest. It instinctively tried to soothe its wounds by wiping at them, but this only burned its hands as well. Its skin melted on its face, leaving gruesome black-green flesh showing underneath. Its features damaged by the acid and far beyond regeneration, the troll stopped struggling and collapsed on the forest floor.
Spinning around to find the other troll, Vell discovered that Lanaal had transformed back into an elf to finish off the lumbering monster. From her robes she drew a few darts and-with strength surprising for her thin form-drove them into vital places on the troll's body. Each of them leaked acid that seeped into its body. Its agonized cries were deafening as it melted from within.
Lanaal walked over to Vell. "Vell," she said. "By the Winged Mother, what went wrong?"
But Vell couldn't stop smiling. "I haven't felt this good in a long time. That was invigorating, fighting with my own body, my own skills. With the Thunderbeasts I rarely face foes except as part of a horde. I had forgotten the joy of it." He looked down at the demolished troll. "My kill, not the Thunderbeast's."
Lanaal frowned. "You tried to turn into the behemoth," she said, "but you lost the partial transformation that you had already achieved. How did this happen?"
"I think it rejected me," said Vell. "Whatever's inside me did not care to rear its head. Perhaps it did not deem the situation serious enough."
"Or perhaps you did not call it properly," Lanaal said. "Not seriously enough. You talk as if it's something else. You need to think differently. Acknowledge that it is another side of Vell."
"Are you in my head, elf?" asked Vell. "Do you know what I feel? Keirkrad, Kellin, Sungar, you, and everyone else think they know better than me. But who among you looks through my eyes?" He clenched his fist in anger-not the barbarian rage that he could sate with violence, but something much more complex and difficult to drive off.
"So you consider this experience a failure," said Lanaal.
"No," Vell smiled. "My eyes are clearer now. I tasted battle and felt alive again. No thanks to the enemy inside."
"It's not