The Darksteel Eye by Jess Lebow Page A

looked around at the trolls on the bleachers. They all hung their heads. “Traitors? You mean there was more than one?”
    Drooge nodded. “I am afraid so.”
    Glissa stood in silence. She was relieved that the trolls didn’t think she had killed their chief, but she was saddened as well. All of this treachery and infighting was due to her. If she had been at home that night, if she had been killed along with the rest of her family, none of this would have happened to the trolls.
    The troll chief tapped his staff on the floor. “You have other reasons for being disturbed by our welcoming you back?”
    Glissa swallowed then nodded. “Well, yes. Everyone seems to know where I’m going and what I’ll do before I even do it.”
    “Yes,” replied the troll. “I see your point.”
    “And since they know where I am at all times, I seem to be everyone’s favorite target for ambush.”
    “A role none wish to play,” said the troll, “but one that falls upon the shoulders of a hero.”
    “A hero?” Glissa stopped to think about that word. “Why would you call me that?”
    The troll cocked his head, looking at the young elf. “Because your efforts are not just focused on yourself.”
    “Wait a minute.” Glissa shook her head. “How do you know what it is I want or even that I was coming here?”
    “A simple deduction,” replied the troll. “The last time you were here, you wanted to know about the Guardian. You did notbelieve us then. You have returned. Thus, I suspect that you have seen proof, that now you are beginning to believe that which Chunth believed, and you wish for answers.”
    “What did Chunth believe?”
    “That you have a destiny beyond the borders of the Tangle. That your path is far longer than you know.” The troll smiled, his stained, ground-flat teeth poking from his wart-covered lips, looking menacing yet warm at the same time.
    Slobad pulled on Glissa’s arm. “Who this guy, huh?”
    “That’s a good question,” said Glissa. She looked up from the goblin. “Who are you?”
    The troll bowed. “Forgive my lack of hospitality. I am Drooge, chief teller of tales. These—” he waved his arm to indicated the collected trolls—“these are all that’s left of my kind.”
    Glissa scanned the room. There were a lot of trolls here, more than she’d ever seen in one place at one time. Still, the thought saddened her. This was
all
of them. Every last one.
    The group no longer seemed so large.
    She laid her gaze again upon Drooge. “So you figured out that I would come back, but that still doesn’t answer my question about why you called me a ‘hero.’ What makes you think I’m not just looking out for myself?”
    The troll placed his hand on his jaw, rubbing his bumpy chin. “Sometimes, a hero is not a hero by choice. Sometimes, a hero is just a hero because her actions make her one. Whether you know it or not, your quest is one that will benefit many people. Perhaps everyone on Mirrodin.” Drooge lowered his head. “Although the trolls have known about Memnarch, have known not only that he existed but also that he controlled the levelers and devices that plague the land, we …” His voice trailed off. The rumpled troll stared at the floor for a long while.
    Glissa looked at him, bending her knees and trying to getdown close enough to the floor to get his attention. “Yes?” she said, trying to coax it from him.
    “We … We have been … afraid,” he said finally.
    “But when last I was here, Chunth was very reluctant to talk with me. He told me very little and seemed quite … guarded, almost as if he would be punished for telling me what I wanted to know.” Glissa paused, watching Drooge stare at the floor. “Now you rush me inside and greet me as if I were one of you. Why such a drastic change?”
    Drooge raised his eyes. “Chunth was the oldest among us and the wisest. Now he is gone, and a new fear has entered the troll tribe: the fear that we will all be