The Divine Hunter - Chapter 519

Chapter 519: Ice Troll, Bear, Blacksmith

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

Undvik’s mountains were not as vast as the Dragon Mountains or the Blue Mountains. To be exact, the whole island was smaller than any great city of the four northern kingdoms. The mountains were draped in a layer of snow, yet there was no perpetual fog shrouding its land, nor did it have any lush greenery. There was nothing but hard, protruding stone formations. The afternoon sun hung high in the skies, shining down upon no man’s land.

Roy was ascending a narrow, meandering stone staircase. Given its distance from ore-rich places like Mahakan and Poviss and Kovir, the imported ore’s prices skyrocketed to exorbitant levels. More than a century ago, Clan Tordarroch found a mine to satisfy their blacksmithing needs, though the reserves weren’t as abundant as they’d hoped.

Every year after spring, the blacksmiths of the clan would enter the mountains for three months, creating the best weapons and armor with their ancestral forge. They would be accompanied by those who wished to purchase said items.

Until now, the rulers of these isles changed multiple times, but this tradition of the clan had never changed.

Until now.

Hours had gone by since the young witcher ascended the staircase, the woods and buildings underneath nothing but specks now. He could barely see them clearly. The temperature had reached freezing point, and the air was getting thinner as the altitude got higher.

Then the witcher froze. The path leading up to the mountainside had a crimson-brown patch on it. Judging from the shape, it was a projectile stain, and it’d been here for at least a week. The witcher scooped up a bit of the bloodstained soil and sniffed it. “Human blood.”

Fits Yoana’s description. Probably from a member of the search party. Haphazard footsteps were sighted near the bloodstain, all belonging to different types of boots. And there were also sets of non-humanoid footsteps.

It was obvious that the feet of these creatures had paw pads, and they were a lot heavier than the average humans. That would explain why the prints were deeper embedded into the soil. Roy fell into his thoughts. No. Not a giant. More like a bear. Judging from its size, it’s about ten feet from head to toe. About five-foot-three in height if it’s walking on all fours. Alright, it’s a giant.

“Could this attack on the blacksmith be a bear assault?” The witcher followed the trail of blood and footprints, and they led him into a dark mine. The mine was deep and gigantic. Sturdy pine logs were made into wooden scaffolding to hold up the chamber’s roof and walls. The paths in the mine sprawled around, weaving and winding into a maze.

On the sides of the walls were clear marks of digging. Sacks of refuse and rusted pickaxes were strewn across the path. Every few yards, there were torches hanging from the wall, and the witcher snapped his fingers, lighting them up.

Illumination filled the passage. The mine wasn’t exactly stuffy or closed in. Roy could feel a gust of cold air coming from the other end of the darkness. He followed the faint smell of blood down the trail. Footprints were all over the paths, and they alternated between the different levels of the mine.

Roy also noticed claw marks on the walls. Bear claws. About half an hour later, he found another patch of dried blood on an inky ore. There was also a sliver of frozen mincemeat on it. Roy poked at it and took a whiff. Human male. Dead, more than probably. There were marks of a fight around the mincemeat. Shards of smashed boulders, tattered clothes, and weapons that were cleaved in half. The enemy’s strength and defense must be incredible.

***

To the witcher’s surprise, there was a third set of footprints, or hooves, as the witcher thought. Three toes, elliptical… Just like an ogre. Could there be an ice troll here? If that’s the case, then it’s no wonder the search parties got wiped out.

Roy came up with a plan. He sat down cross-legged and whipped out a bottle of ogroid oil and a bottle of frostbite spider venom he got from Skyrim as well as a bottle of paralyzing potion. He lathered it over Aerondight, and the blade started to gleam and shine.

Roy brushed his finger against the blade, and the metal sang. Like a cat, the witcher crouched a little, following a little trail that the creature left behind. A while later, Roy was met with a bright light, and the air was filled with some weird stench. He slowed his breathing for a moment.

A giant furnace the size of a pond stood beside the walls of the cave, and a bonfire was burning brightly beside it. A gigantic pine tree stood beside the fire, a great cauldron hanging from its branch. So big was the cauldron, a regular adult could sit in it easily. Something was stewing in the cauldron, filling the air with heat and aroma.

Roy hid behind a boulder and sniffed the air. “Meat, mandrake roots, basil…” Bizarre herbs, roots, buts, ale, and a ton of different ingredients inside. Whatever was cooking within smelled like great food and socks that’d been in the gutter for weeks. It made Roy’s stomach churn on more levels than one.

Further on the left of the cauldron were a pair of silhouettes standing together, the light of the bonfire projecting their shadows onto the wall.

The creatures were about eight feet tall, most of their bodies covered in green ice. Their bellies, however, were round, yellow, and protruding, not unlike pregnant women. On their backs was armor as big as a tortoise’s shell. Their heads were bald, their eyes beady and listless. Their noses were almost flattened, their fangs yellow.

These creatures looked almost silly, but…

‘Ice Troll

Age: 89 years old

Gender: Male

HP: 300

Strength: 30

Dexterity: 12

Constitution: 30

Perception: 14

Will: 9

Charisma: 3

Spirit: 8

Skills:

Regeneration (Passive): All ogroids possess powerful self-regenerative abilities. Their metabolic rate far outstrips a lot of species. Any non-lethal wounds heal up in the blink of an eye. Immune to bleeding. Unlike rock trolls, ice trolls have no outward weaknesses.

Stone Toss Mastery Level 8

Freezing Physique (Passive): Ice trolls have great strength and sturdy bodies. Highly resistant to physical attacks. Sharp weapons are ineffective against them and will dull easily. +10 to Constitution and Strength. Battle power increases in cold weather.’

***

Even from afar, Roy looked solemn. There were no bears around, but the ice trolls alone were formidable enough. They had thirty points in Constitution, effectively giving them sturdy armor. And with their Strength, Quen would break in one hit, and then his ribs would be broken too. With how claustrophobic this place is, these trolls just became that much more dangerous, and we have a pair too. The female’s obviously bigger, and she’s on par with her mate.

The ice trolls were staring at the cauldron of stew, drool dribbling down their disgusting teeth. They couldn’t wait to dig into their feast.

Roy stared past the trolls and looked at what was behind them. There was a circular stone table surrounded by skeletons. Even from ten yards away, Roy could see that the skeletons belonged to animals of different types. Wolves, foxes, goats, falcons, and even humans. About a dozen humans. A few frozen human corpses lay beside the skeletons. Their flesh was intact, but one of them had lost an arm and a leg. I think I have an idea where the missing parts are. Roy looked at the cauldron.

A steel cage sat by its lonesome in the other corner of the chamber, taken up by one unkempt man. His golden hair was greasy and clumpy, covering most of his head, revealing only his wide, taut jaw. His oversized hands gripped the steel bars with all their might, his face squeezed against the bars as his eyes were fixed on the cauldron.

He seemed tremulous, perhaps from fear, the witcher surmised. He wore a greyish-white jacket, his body shivering. A steel plate covered in frost sat outside his cage. Looks like he’s been treated as a pet.

‘Farik Tordarroch

Age: 48 years old

Gender: Male

Status: Master blacksmith

HP: 40/80 (weakened, starving…)’

***

Oh, that’s one of Yoana’s uncles. Man, he has a mountain of debuffs. Delight flared within the witcher’s heart, but he frowned. It’s been more than a month, and this guy is still alive, but everyone else is gone. Didn’t find anyone in the foundry or mine. Something’s off. Why’d the trolls lock him up in a cage?

***

The stew was starting to simmer, its juice sloshing around, vaporized the moment it touched the fire, and the scent wafting in the air turned a shade richer.

Roy stared at the roaring blaze, and he fell into his thoughts. If these were rock trolls, he would’ve gone out with his hands raised so he could start a negotiation. Serrit’s wonderful work of literature on trolls would be enough to tide him through the pinch.

Ice trolls, however, were different. The unforgiving climate and terrain they lived in further impacted their already unimpressive brains, turning them into mindless beasts who were driven by the feral desire to kill and feed. They were creatures of impulse. The only way to survive an encounter was to do as they were told, or else. These beasts are harder to get through than the trolls on Kaer Morhen.

***

“Me smell some’n bad. Summat small people came?” the male troll muttered, but his voice boomed, the tenor of his voice filled with a special rhythm. “No! Not same as small people!”

He’s sharp. Shocked, Roy slowed down his breathing even further, then he quickly cast Heliotrop on top of Quen to hide his presence more.

“Yer starvin’!” The female sniffed the air and shook her head, then she let out a laugh that came from her belly. She scooped up a handful of snow to douse the fire, then she rolled the crank to lower the cauldron. She then pulled out a long metal ladle from the furnace and stirred the bizarre stew, happily singing a weird tune.

“One, two, three.” She chuckled. “One, two, three.” She chortled. The troll, for some inexplicable reason, counted out loud for eight rounds before she sprinkled a hearty amount of some weird green powder into the mixture. She took a deep breath, an ugly smile cracking across her grotesque lips. She looked content with herself, like she’d just made some gourmet food.

The troll ladled the yellow stew and filled two steel bowls up, the scalding juice splattering all across her belly, but she didn’t react to it. The bowls were filled with oval hearts, long intestines, and a few succulent ribs. They did not look like animal ribs, however.

Unfazed by the stew’s scalding heat, the female troll dipped her ice-covered hand into the stew and pulled out a piece of rib, and she munched into it. The beast sat on the ice-cold floor, chomping down on the ribs, strips of muscle pulled apart at the joints of the bones.

Roy covered his mouth. He’d seen a lot of things throughout his adventures, but this was nauseating.

The male troll, however, was in no hurry to indulge himself. Instead, he took the plate at the cage and ladled it full of the stew, then he handed it to Farik, and the blacksmith picked up a key from beside the cage, then he unlocked it.

Roy frowned. The trolls didn’t lock him up. He did it to himself.

“Eat, big one. Snailies, deer, foxies, small ones, carrots inside. Smell bad and good.” The male troll pointed his pudgy finger into his maw, a terrifying smile cracking his lips. He motioned to Farik, telling him to dig in. “Eat, big one. Get bigger.”

Roy gulped. The trolls must think he’s one of them. Can’t explain why they’d call a shrimp like that ‘big one.’

Farik pulled his fringe back, revealing a cadaverous face and eyes filled with hunger. With a trembling hand, he took the plate into his cage, and hesitation flickered in his eyes.

It only lasted for a moment. The blacksmith heaved a long sigh and picked up a rib, then he munched into it. There were tears glistening in his eyes.

***

Roy froze at the sight of that, and a conflicted look crept onto his face. The blacksmith had given up part of his humanity to survive, and the complex relationship between him and the trolls was hard to understand.

Roy slid his blade back into its scabbard. First, I’ll find out what happened here, then I’ll make my move. He crouched further and waited for an opening.

The ice trolls led simple lives. After a hearty meal came the highlight of the day: sleeping.

Once they cleaned out the cauldron, the trolls leaned on it and dozed off, their snores almost rumbling the whole cave. The blacksmith sat in his cage, a vacant look filling his eyes, and he looked into the air numbly, where the flames flickered.

All of a sudden, something cold clasped itself onto his back, and someone covered his mouth. Farik’s heart skipped a beat, and he tried to break free.

“Hold still. Chamir and Klaf sent me.”

The mention of his clansmen eased the blacksmith up. He was then swiveled around and met with a young man.

“We’ll talk, but first, we need to get out of here,” Roy whispered.

Light shone through Farik’s dead, murky eyes, but only for a moment. Fear took over, and he shook his head.

Roy didn’t give him any chance to dawdle. He quickly cast Axii, and the blacksmith followed him like an obedient pet. He couldn’t leave just like that, so he locked a frozen corpse in the cage and had it pretend to be Farik. I’ll buy us as much time as possible. Worried that Farik might get too loud and wake the trolls up, Roy took him on his back and tiptoed around the beasts.

Reminds me of that trip in Mahakam. Roy glanced at the troll, fury flaring in his eyes. He had half the mind to use his energy attack to take one of the trolls out, but he gave up on that plan.

***

Instead of going back through the path he came, the witcher delved deeper into the mine, seeking the spot where the wind blew in. Ten minutes later, they emerged from the dark chambers and entered a snow-covered clearing in the back of the mountains.

A rickety wooden shack stood by the cliff, and Roy took Farik into the house. He started a little fire to warm things up. Once Farik had healed up, it was time for a long talk.

“W-Who are you?”

“Auckes. I’m a witcher, and your clansmen sent me here.” Roy looked into Farik’s eyes. “I know it’s a long story, but I need you to make it short. What happened after you and the warriors went into the mountains a month ago? Did the trolls attack you guys?”

“No, that wasn’t it.” Farik paused for a few moments, but then Roy cast Axii, and he answered honestly. “As per the clan’s tradition, the warriors who wished to purchase Tordarroch items and I came into the mountains for some metal casting. Things went well at first, but one day later…” Panic flared in Farik’s eyes. “One of the five warriors went missing.”

Roy massaged his temples. Something’s off.

“We searched the whole mine and its vicinity, but we found nothing. No blood nor corpse. We thought he got lost in the mountains, so we gave up on the search a while later. The blacksmithing must go on, after all. And then came the third day, and another warrior went missing. No sign of blood or corpse either. It was then everyone realized something was wrong.”

Curiosity flickered in Roy’s eyes. Did the trolls get into a game of hide and seek with them?

“The Redanian warrior had a feeling we were in grave danger. Something terrible had set its sight on us. He gave up on his purchase and wished to descend the mountains immediately. But the moment he made that suggestion, Ibayre, a warrior from Ard Skellig, turned…” Farik’s voice trembled, and he almost failed to finish his sentence. He stared into the air, his eyes flickering with fear, and he shivered. “He turned into a bear.”

“Are you sure you weren’t hallucinating?” Roy cocked his eyebrow, and he was reminded of the claw he saw during his investigation. “Someone from Ard Skellig turned into a bear?”

“I am sure of it. It had crimson eyes, and everything about it smelled of violence. Smacked the Redanian warrior’s sword away with a single swipe of its claw, and then the beast ripped the warrior open, spilling his guts everywhere. Then it roared and chased us deeper into the mine. The remaining Kaedwenian warrior and I hid around the furnace, fearing for our lives. We had not the courage to face the bear, no. Lost even the guts to swing our swords. The beast was far bigger than anything I’ve seen. As big as a carriage when it stands on all fours. Paws big enough to hold an adult man. Maw filled with sharp incisors, and eyes red as blood. Nightmare fuel, I tell you.”

“So if the bear killed the first team, what’s the deal with the man-eating trolls?”

Farik froze for a moment, his eyes flickering with confusion and hesitation, then he adamantly said, “The trolls only came after the bear. Probably smelled the blood and came to claim the mine for themselves. Took us as prisoners and locked us up, then they wanted us to solve a riddle.”

A weird look flared in Farik’s eyes. There was gratitude, but there was also fear and distance. “A shame the Kaedwenian warrior said the wrong answer, and they made him into frozen meat.”

“So you answered correctly?”

Farik nodded. “Yes, but they didn’t release me. Locked me up and treated me like one of their own.”

Roy cocked his eyebrow, sizing the gaunt blacksmith up. He does not look like a troll at all. “So why’d you lock yourself up instead of running away when the trolls are asleep?”

“Because I was scared. I was scared the bear might come back. I had no other way to protect myself.”

“So you’re saying the bear is hiding somewhere nearby? How are you so sure of that?”

“I can feel it, don’t you understand? I can’t run, or Ibayre the Bear will find me and tear me apart. I must stay in the cave. Only under the trolls’ protection can I be safe.”

Roy looked at the blacksmith again. That bear must’ve scared the guy out of his wits. Trying to ask for a troll’s protection? They’re going to end up eating you.

Farik took a deep breath, sorrow filling his face. “And I remember two rescue teams coming in to save me, one of them led by my poor brother, Okala. They attacked the trolls right away, thinking they were enemies. The trolls killed them with boulders and ice, then they became food.”

Farik looked grim, his eyes filled with regret, and he shook his head. “I had no choice. I am but a regular blacksmith. I am just a human. I could never fight a troll. I don’t want to die.” The trolls can attack from a range. No one can stop them.

“You saw them too, didn’t you? They see me as one of them, and they stubbornly think I have to eat the same things they do, and I was starving. So… So…”

Roy pursed his lips. He was in no position to comment on the actions of a human trapped in a desperate situation. “I have a question. Why’d they call you ‘big one’?”

“I-I’m not sure myself.” Farik looked bemused. “But I wasn’t this gaunt a month ago. Toiling in the forge for years gave me a powerful body.”

Roy scanned the bonfire and the house. “Fine, I get it. You locked yourself up because you’re worried the bear might come back for you, but you still got out of the mine safely now. It’s been more than a month. It should be gone now, so come back to town with me.”

“No! It’s going to come for me! It’s going to come for us before we can even get home. A-And it’ll tear me apart!” Farik cringed and looked around nervously, as if he could see a bear hiding in a dark corner, keeping its eyes on him. “Please, let me go back to my ca—”

Roy smacked the back of Farik’s head. The blacksmith’s eyes rolled back, and he fell unconscious.

The witcher mused. His fear for the bear has turned into a phobia. Something’s off, but he shouldn’t have been lying, given that Axii was in effect. Roy came out of the house and placed Gwyhyr on the door. Should something come in contact with his sword, he could teleport back right away.

Then he looked at the cave. There are a lot of holes in Farik’s story. This might be risky, but I need to look for the truth myself.