Paul lost count at twenty, dodging away around a corner, thrown rocks shattering against the cave wall he was standing in front of a moment before. He estimated there was twice that number right behind them. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

“That’s a lot of trolls, Seymore,” Paul said.

Seymore chirped in response.

“You’re right, just have to stick to the plan. Time to go.”

He ran to his next vantage point, at the end of another long tunnel. He reached into an alcove in the rock, pulling free a bundle of javelins with knapped obsidian heads, then turned to face the approaching trolls.

Paul saw their torchlight first, casting flickering shadows that stretched along the cave. They rounded the corner at a run, chanting in a language Paul couldn’t understand. When they spotted Paul, the leading Trolls let out a high-pitched yell, increasing their pace. Paul’s hind-brain was screaming for him to flee, but Paul wiped the sweat from his palms and planted his feet.

Just a little further…

The long strides of the first two trolls in the pack took them over the hidden pit, but the third stepped directly on the stretched skins that Paul placed over the crevasse and had hidden with dirt and loose rock. It gave a startled cry as its leg plunged into the crevice, catching itself with its long, gangly arms, half-in and half-out of the fissure. Another two trolls stopped short of the now exposed drop-off, only to have those behind them barrel into them from behind, knocking them off the precipice into the hole.

The crevasse wasn’t particularly wide, and now three trolls were wedged into the crack. The two trolls in the front of the pack realized something was wrong and turned back toward their struggling fellows. Paul was already sprinting toward them, a ball of bright light trailing behind.

He threw one javelin as he ran, the action a synergy of his [Thrown Weapons] skill and countless hours spent hunting Cave Rats. The spear struck the troll in the back of the leg, which immediately crumpled under the creature. With well-practiced motion, he tossed a second Javelin from his left hand into the air, caught it with his right and threw it as well, striking the other troll on his side of the crevasse in the kidney.

He was on them before they had a chance to fully turn around. Pauls lunged with his long spear, feeling it catch on the troll’s back ribs for a split second before plunging through its lung. He extracted the spear cleanly, whipping it around to catch the other troll in the neck, then wrenching it free in a shower of ichor.

Paul turned and ran before the trolls began to fall, running back the way he had come. In the confusion, the cave trolls didn’t notice that Paul’s light didn’t follow him back until it was too late. They watched the mysterious orb sink down into the crevice with the three trolls that were being pulled free by their brethren.

“Hide your eyes, Seymore.”

The orb exploded just meters away from the trapped Trolls, the narrow crevice trapping the concussive force. They dropped bonelessly toward the bottom of the crevasse a dozen meters below.

Paul whirled back toward the trolls again, setting his spear down and scooping up the rest of his javelins. The trolls in front blinked in pain and shock from the spell, bleeding from their eyes and ears. They never even saw the obsidian-tipped projectiles before they struck, one after another. Of the five that he threw, only one was fatal, a well-placed toss that pierced one of the troll’s bulbous lower eyes.

The rest were only injured, but Paul always knew that the weapons were better served to slow and maim the trolls than to kill them.

The unexpected turn of events threw the mass of trolls into chaos. Only some had stepped over the crevasse, with the rest bottlenecked by their injured compatriots. Paul readjusted his grip on his spear, ready to charge in again, when a new troll pushed its way to the front, barking orders.

Paul recognized it immediately. It was the fire mage that almost killed him nearly a month before. He could tell that the troll recognized him as well as it looked his direction and sneered.

For a moment they stared at each other, unbridled hate thickening the air. Seymore produced a soft, menacing growl.

Their staring contest was broken a moment later, one of the trolls whipping a melon-sized rock at Paul’s head, its long, skeletal arms imparting terrifying velocity. Paul ducked out of its path, feeling the whisper of air along his scalp.

The mage made a gesture, and Paul snapped a [Weak Shield of Light] up in response, barely forming it in time before a gout of fire impacted against it, flames curling around its edge and licking at his skin. He could feel the intent drain from his mind into his shield as the spell was battered by the inferno.

“Time to go Seymore,” Paul quipped. He heard Seymore chirp in the affirmative as he ran through the tunnels, the angry shouts of the trolls not far behind.

He didn’t leave the next trap to chance, waiting until the mob was almost on him before knocking a rock free from the bottom of a pile where it was wedged, causing the precariously stacked stones to collapse into the tunnel, crushing feet and snapping the lower leg of one unfortunate troll.

Then Paul was on the move again, leaping long over the next covered trap, landing two meters past the gap. He ran on for a dozen strides, then turned to face the encroaching tide again.

They took longer than Paul anticipated, and as they came into view, illuminated by their sputtering torches, he realized why. The mage had slowed them, forcing them to walk slowly and deliberately.

Paul drew a breath in through his teeth. This wouldn’t do at all. He needed them angry and foolish for his traps to have any chance to work. His [Traps] skill had reinforced just how rudimentary his efforts were, and if the trolls were cautious, Paul had no doubt that the trolls would spot every single one.

Paul strode to the middle of the tunnel, making himself an easy target, even going so far as to illuminate himself with an orb of light above his head.

Look at me, not at your feet.

He needed to get their attention, but his nearest brace of javelins was secreted around the next bend in the tunnels 50 meters away. Instead, he created another concussive orb and launched it toward the slowly approaching group. Those in front shied away from it, having experienced its effects first hand.

Paul detonated the spell directly in front of the pack. The blast was much weaker than his first attack with the orb, both because Paul wanted to conserve his intent and because the explosion was more effective in the tight confines of a crevice than in a wide tunnel.

He could hear them howl with rage, several clutching at their eyes. Several stepped forward and began to lope toward Paul.

That’s right, I’m right here.

To Paul’s dismay though, the fire mage barked orders at them, forcing the creatures back in line, and before they could step on Paul’s next pitfall, the mage yanked the lead troll back, pointing at the ground. He winced as they pulled the camouflaged skins aside, uncovering the chasm beneath.

The fire mage flashed a self-satisfied smile at Paul, then gestured his vanguard to leap across.

As soon as they landed on the other side, the lead trolls cried out fell, clutching their feet. Paul had set a field of obsidian-flake caltrops on the far side of the chasm, slicing into the feet of those unlucky to be the first across. Those that fell did so into more of the caltrops, causing even more injuries.

Paul always knew that most of his obstacles wouldn’t be fatal. They were placed to create opportunities instead. Right now, the lead trolls were gingerly picking themselves up out of the caltrop field. Paul took the opportunity it offered.

He rushed forward, side-stepping a hurled stone, using his [Sprint] skill to its fullest. A breath later he was in front of the trolls, spear in both hands and a [Persistent Feeble Shield of Light] flashing into existence at his side.

[Thrust] gave Paul the form and power he needed and he sunk his spear into the groin of the closet troll. Another charged at him, and Paul backpedaled, ducking low under the swing of an adze, then springing up from his crouch to plunge the speartip into one his assailant’s eyes. The troll fell like a puppet with its strings cut. Paul tried to retract his spear, but it lodged in the troll’s eye-socket, and Paul cursed as he felt the top third of the spearhead break off.

A third troll tried to flank him, but its ax-blows were deflected by Paul’s shield, and Paul stepped past the troll, dragging the still sharp edge of his spear across the Troll’s midsection. Paul didn’t turn to look if he had downed the troll, the wet slop of its intestines hitting the cave floor telling him all he needed to know.

Paul felt flames at his back as he skidded around the next corner.

Eight down, way too fucking many to go.