Seymour had no idea what else to do, so he waved back.
The doorway leading to the path they needed was only a few yards off now. They could do this. They were almost there. Everything was going to be fine. Seymour wasn’t going to die here. It didn’t matter what some crazy chick at a magic shop said.
Everything was great.
Dandy, even.
Everything was?—
The building shook as the troll burst through the doorway, choosing to shatter his way through it instead of slink through. He roared and swung his fists, lantern men flying and pinging off the walls and ceiling like ping pong balls.
Okay, so maybe everything wasn’t so great.
“Fuckin’ Christ on a stick, that ain’t fuckin’ good.” Seymour groaned.“Hey! Is there sunlight here? Is what we’re seein’ with enough to kill a troll?”
“Nope!” Shiloh called back. “It’s not actually sunlight. There’s no sun. It’s?—”
“Okay, okay, fuck! Just… run!”
“Gee golly! Like I didn’t think of that!”
“Fuck you!”
“Fuckyou!”
Sariel growled, perhaps a plea to cease their arguing, and he pushed through the fray. The swing of a giant rock monster’s club prompted him to leap, expertly using his uninjured wing to jump and glide over it. He hit the ground and kept going, even as gold liquid dripped off one of his spinning rings.
It landed on Seymour’s forehead, and he cringed. He hugged Day tight and said about a few dozen quick prayers to every god and goddess he’d ever heard of that they were going to make it out of this nightmare in one piece.
Day whimpered quietly and purred, but the purr was weak and mournful.
Sariel raced right through the slaughter and out the doorway to the next path. He hadn’t slowed for a second, every eye blazing bright. Thunderous footsteps from behind them signaled the troll was close.
Way too close.
“Oh fuck me—” Shiloh shouted.
“What’s happening?” Seymour strained to look over Sariel’s shoulder.
“It’s Shiloh!” Day cried. “He’s hurt!”
Seymour couldn’t see what had happened, but he didn’t have long to worry about it.
The troll jumped again, sailing overhead and landing in front of them, once again cutting them off. “You.” He pointed at Seymour. “You will pay for what you did to my brother. Your suffering will be great and?—”
The path suddenly rose in a wave as if the stone had turned into Jell-O. The troll fell backward, and the wave continued, carrying him toward the next building. Words formed, a river of frantic letters chasing the troll down the whole way.
nO YoU
YouuUUu
iT iS YOU
WHO
WiLL
PAY
