Gristle shifted beneath him, ears flat. Her muscles coiled tighter with each step. She felt it. The watching. The circling. Christofer's thighs clamped harder against the saddle, not guiding her, just holding on.

  "How long can you hold that?" the Captain asked, not looking back.

  Christofer didn't answer immediately. The gecko's presence burned behind his eye, threading deeper into nerves that weren't meant to carry this much traffic. He felt the pressure building. Skull-deep. Bone-deep. Maybe deeper still.

  “This… uh, magic vision? First time using it, so probably not long?”

  The first one dropped from above. No warning. Just the sudden blur of black mass and orange glow as it plummeted toward the rear of the column. The green haze from his closed right eye showed the troll clearly, too clearly. Every detail etched in luminous outline. Close, too close. Christofer reacted, mug wrenched mid-panic from his pocket. An echo of a thump reverberated as porcelain crashed into the creature’s mask. It all happened in an instant. A soldier shouted, seeing a nearby tree shake from seemingly nothing from his point of view.

  "They're spreading out," Christofer said, voice tight, "Flanking us. Twelve, maybe thirteen visible?"

  The Captain's hand tightened on his reins. "Visible?"

  Every sensation of pain rippled through his body. The sensations across his body were screaming. His body involuntarily started shaking.

  "I can only see what's lit up… Shapes, silhouettes, I can’t hold this… sight for long."

  As the pain and sensations chained across his body. The bleeding didn't stop at his nose. Christofer felt warmth trickle down from his right eye. A slow stream pooling around his nose before flowing over his mouth and dripping onto his chest. Seeping into his gambeson. His vision, the normal one, from his left eye, had started to blur at the edges. Christofer touched around his right eye.

  “Shit, that can’t be good.” Christofer blurted out loud holding his hand now red with blood in front of his left eye.

  The captain glanced at him just as steel rang, his blade coming up too slow. The troll’s claws careened past him raking across chainmail with a screech like nails on a chalkboard. The horse screamed and bucked. The captain held his seat, barely, swinging wild. Christofer's heart slammed against his ribs.

  “Men, advance to the clearing!” the captain roared, “Follow the guides!”

  The column fell in behind the captain and column surged forward. Hooves crunched through snow, faster now Gristle kicked the ground and fell in after him, adrenaline coursing through the mare’s veins. Similarly, Christofer’s adrenaline spiked, sharp and cold. His closed eye tracked movement. Two more trolls shifting position, closing the gap the first had created. Testing. Probing.

  "They're.. coordinating," he said, louder this time. "The one that attacked, bait… It was bait! Two more moved while we were distracted."

  The Captain cursed under his breath as the scenery of ruins gave way to stone. The forest pressed in from both sides as the path funneled into a natural corridor between two steep ridges. The trees overhead interlaced, branches forming a lattice that choked out the sky. Shadows deepened. The snow fell thicker here, undisturbed by wind. Christofer's closed eye burned. The trolls were still there. He could see their shapes moving parallel to the column, higher now, using the ridges. They didn't descend. Just paced. Watching. His right side of his face was fully wet now. He didn't wipe it. He didn't want to know how much blood there was.

  "They're not attacking," he said. Voice strained. "Just following."

  "Then they're waiting for something," Ike muttered from ahead.

  Halvar glanced back, his expression grim.

  "Or herding us toward it."

  The path narrowed further. Single file now. The guides led, picking their way over roots and half-buried stones. The column stretched thin, vulnerable. Christofer felt the walls of the gorge press in. Claustrophobic. Trapped. Gristle's breathing quickened. Her stride hitched. Not quite a stumble, but close. Christofer's thighs tightened reflexively, keeping her steady.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The vibration came first. A low rumble, felt through the saddle, through Gristle's ribs, up into Christofer's spine. The horses reacted instantly. Ears pinned, nostrils flaring. One of the mounts in the middle of the column shied hard to the left, nearly throwing its rider.

  "Hold formation!" the Captain snapped.

  The rumble came again. Deeper this time. Rhythmic. Footfalls.

  Christofer's closed eye swept the canopy. The small trolls had stopped moving. All of them. Frozen in place, their masks turned toward something beyond his line of sight. The orange glow pulsed, once. Then twice in unison.

  "Something's coming," Christofer said. His voice cracked. "Big. The small ones. They're reacting to it."

  "Where?" the Captain demanded.

  A tree groaned. Not from wind. From weight. Something massive shifting its bulk against timber. The sound echoed off the stone walls, distorted, impossible to pinpoint. Not the creature itself. Just its outline. A shadow within shadows, moving through the trees on the ridge above. Enormous. Sleek. Something folded against its back. A whip of a tail. The small trolls scattered as it passed, vanishing into crevices and hollows like roaches fleeing light.

  "I don't—" Christofer's vision flickered. The green haze stuttered like a dying candle. "Above us. On the left ridge."

  The Captain didn't look up.

  "Can it reach us?"

  "I don't know."

  "Then we don't slow down."

  The column pressed forward. The vibrations faded, but the presence lingered. A weight in the air. The small trolls didn't return. Whatever had passed through had cleared them out.

  Christofer exhaled shakily. His vision blurred again. Red seeped into his left eye now. Tears mixed with blood. He blinked hard, trying to clear it.The gecko's voice rippled through him, faint and strained.

  "We cannot hold much longer."

  'I know.'

  "Your capillaries are rupturing. You are bleeding internally. Continue and you’ll lose the eye."

  A shudder flew through him. the green vision didn't fade. He relaxed, and it snapped. One moment, the green haze. The next, nothing. The world lurched. Too bright. He swayed hard to the left. Gristle felt it and compensated, shifting her weight to keep him upright. His hands lost the reins entirely. He grabbed her mane instead, fingers tangling in coarse hair. His forehead pressed against her neck. Steam rose between them.

  "Norseman!" Halvar's voice. Close. Worried.

  Christofer couldn't answer. His skull felt cracked. Pressure released all at once, like lancing a boil. Blood ran freely now. Nose, ears, corners of his eyes. He tasted copper. His body rose again. His hands were shaking now. Not tremors but full convulsions. The reins slipped through his fingers. He clamped down harder, forcing his grip to hold. Gristle felt it. She tossed her head, uncertain. Spooked by his instability.

  "Easy," he muttered. "Easy."

  She didn't listen. She started to drift right, toward the edge of the path where the ground dropped into shadow. Away from the column. Away from the vibrations.

  "No." Christofer pulled the reins left. Hard. She resisted, head jerking against the pressure. "No. Stay with them."

  She fought him. Her stride broke, half-rearing. He squeezed his legs, leaned forward, used his weight to force her back in line. Pain lanced through his ribs. The heat in his shoulder flared. Gristle snorted. Steam billowed from her nostrils. But she obeyed. Grudgingly. Her gait evened out. She fell back into step with the column.

  "Almost there," the older guide called back. "Path opens up ahead."

  Christofer didn't respond. Couldn't. His jaw was locked. Every ounce of focus bent toward keeping his eyes open. Keeping Gristle moving.

  Halvar pulled his horse alongside. "Can you ride?"

  Christofer lifted his head slightly. Barely and gave him a thumbs up.

  "The trolls?"

  Branches creaked. Snow fell. Wind whispered. But beneath it all, something else. A faint chittering. Clicking. The sound of claws on bark. They were still there. Just outside normal sight.

  "I can’t see them any longer," Christofer said quietly. "But I can feel their eyes on me."

  He couldn't hold on anymore. His hands went slack. The mane slipped through his fingers. He slumped forward, arms draping over Gristle's neck, cheek pressed to her warmth. His ribs screamed. His shoulder pulsed. The world tilted. Gristle didn't bolt. Didn't shy.

  She just kept walking. Steady. Even.

  Following the horse ahead of her without needing guidance. Christofer felt her muscles shift beneath him. Felt the rhythm of her gait. He let her carry him. Let her make the decisions. Left, right, faster, slower. He trusted her.

  'Good horse,' he thought distantly.

  The forest pressed in. The column moved through shadow and somewhere, just beyond sight, the trolls followed. The gorge widened and the ridges pulled back. Trees thinned. Ahead, the guides slowed as the path opened into a broader space. Not quite a clearing, but less suffocating. The column spread out slightly, reforming into double file.

  The Captain raised a hand. "Hold."

  They stopped. Horses stamped. Men breathed. No one spoke.