by Al K. Line
"Don't see how hiding a hat, then putting it back where the person first looked after they've searched high and low for it is making life more interesting."
"Kate, you don't get it at all, do you?"
"Enlighten me." I was becoming interested despite myself. But this was what I needed, a distraction, so I played along.
"Because, not often, but every now and then, just occasionally, maybe the person who is looking for their hat decides to open a drawer, or root around in a box, or check a place they haven't looked for years and they find, oh, I don't know, maybe a bundle of love letters from their wife from fifty years ago."
"That would be nice."
"Right. And they spend a morning remembering all the happy years and stop moping about their quiet, lonely house and begin to look at it with fresh eyes, and it becomes a place full of joyous memories and they get a new lease on life. Maybe they don't take the tablets they were planning on taking that evening, and instead they make a phone call to one of their children and arrange to see the grandkids instead. Stuff like that." Intus shrugged. "But mostly we do it because it's loads of fun to see you guys running around cursing and you look so funny when you find stuff right where you left it."
"You, my friend, are a pretty nice imp."
"Don't tell anyone," said Intus seriously. "I mean it, I have a reputation to maintain."
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."
I kept on climbing, the way getting steeper, until I found a piece of flat ground and paused for a second to check my surroundings and gather myself for what was to come. As I walked forward on the uneven rock, slowly and carefully as any mistake now would be extremely bad timing, my body took the opportunity to remind me how exhausted it was.
My legs turned to jelly and a deep lethargy sprang from nowhere, threatening to pull me down into slumber. I shook my head, the wind catching my hair thick with blood and all kinds of nasties, dragging it out behind me.
Next I shook out my arms and legs, trying to wake them and remind them this was far from over. But they felt like lead weights rather than full of magical elements used to create the universe itself.
I was only human, I had to remind myself, no matter how far from Regular I was. I was still a person and people get tired, and I had just about every excuse under the sun to be less than fighting fit.
The wind really took hold and my jacket flapped about, the raggedy leather like a living creature, clinging to me then trying to escape and soar away across the treetops below.
As I stared at the trees, I noticed that some were shaking more than others, that the wind must have been ripping through the forest at an astonishing rate to disturb them like that. Guess there was a storm coming although the sky appeared clear.
I stepped out further and checked in every direction I could, and it was then I noticed the blurring shapes of what were undoubtedly vampires rushing to the summons of their Head. Stragglers, no doubt, as most vampires would already be here, amassed above with Oskari in a safe haven until this business was settled. Why not go to the clearing? Was there more energy above than below? Or maybe Oskari just wanted a vantage point to send out attack parties? So many questions.
He wouldn't know who I'd told about this, and although I doubted he was scared he would certainly have heard about what I'd done in Cardiff so would be ready for me, probably with a nasty surprise up his sleeve to keep me from doing anything I knew I wouldn't regret but he sure as hell would.
I dismissed such thoughts; whatever awaited me I would just have to deal with it. There was little else I could do unless I wanted to risk the lives of my friends back home, and enough people were already in danger.
The forest stirred again, and trees toppled, but I was so damn tired I couldn't focus properly. Intus was tugging at my earlobe and saying something.
"What?"
"I said I have to go. Some of the kids have decided it would be a good idea to play dunk Daddy in the lava bath, and it's, er, gone a bit solid. Time to get the chisel out. Again."
"Hope it all works out. Thanks, Intus, I'll see you soon. Hopefully."
"That's the spirit," she said, smiling. Then she was gone.
I was alone.
Rock tumbled behind me and I turned, knowing it wouldn't be anything fun like an avalanche.
It's Alive
For a moment I was confused by what I saw. It was as if the mountain was coming alive. It wobbled and writhed and rocks small and large tumbled and clattered from far above and all around me. I could hear the mountain below as if it was grinding its way to a new position, as if the whole mountainside was shifting like a glacier but sped up.
Trolls.
Lots, and lots, of trolls.
A living mountain of timeless beings made from the planet itself. All moving in one direction.
Up.
Toward my son.
This was what Brewster had been doing back in the grounds of the castle. Communing with his kind, telling them where to go, what had happened, who was here.
My son.
Damn, did every creature in the Hidden world want a piece of me and mine? Seemed like it.
I was shoved aside by a slice of mountain that towered above my head, three times my size. Another wild troll not seen in the cities. It made the one I'd encountered here previously seem almost like a dwarf. It grunted and strode across the ground then gripped the rock face and climbed with practiced ease, its movements orchestrated so it didn't interfere with its neighbors. The whole area was writhing with them now, hardly a piece of the rock face free of them.
Up they went, countless trolls as sure-footed as mountain goats, each foot placement and hand hold perfect, never stopping, fluid and full of grace, a sight to behold.
Why were they all here? Why was this so important? Because of Kane? Obviously. But something else maybe? Had they come to bear witness? Not content with one recording this and sharing with the others, but each of them wanting to see it with their own eyes and lock it forever as a part of history in their priceless quartz brains?
This was overwhelming. What had begun as a fight for personal survival and to save my family and friends was becoming something altogether more epic. And frightening. What on earth was this all about? Would they help me? Would they save Kane, save Faz and the others? Or would they stand idly by and watch as Oskari obliterated everything I held dear?
I dashed to the steep rock face and began to climb but I kept getting pushed aside by the trolls. I wasn't part of the orchestrated movements and it seemed they didn't consider anything organic to be of that much importance.
I wanted to scream at them, ask them if they knew who I was and what part I had to play in this, but they refused to look at me, refused to answer when I asked, even when I insulted them.
So, unable to get past them, unable to think what else to do and how to climb without getting squashed, I launched myself onto the shoulders of the biggest, baddest, most colorful troll I could see, hung on around his neck and said, "Mind if I hitch a ride?"
His head turned and he stared at me, then grunted, faced the rock, and continued his climb.
It beat getting flattened, and boy can they move faster than you'd think when they've got some place they want to be in a hurry.
Here We Go Again
From the rate of ascent, I could only assume trolls were either a lot happier, and speedier, climbing than walking, or something had lit a fire under their hard asses and they'd pulled out all the stops.
It was probably a bit of both.
We reached the halfway point after traversing precipitous outcrops I believed impassable, went over huge jutting crags without a pause, and circumnavigated to the other side without a single one of them slowing or putting a limb wrong.
Pebbles and boulders crashed down on those beneath but they ignored the missiles, kept their heads down, and continued climbing. Which was all well and good for those below, but not so good for me, as I am not made of rock, and I am v
ery much able to be squashed and broken into bony bits by large lumps of hard stuff slamming into my head.
The longer we climbed, the lower I got on the trolls back as I tried to shield myself from the increasingly hostile environment. My grip was weakening, my worry was increasing, and my cuts were multiplying. I pumped magic furiously out from my body to form a shield just a few millimeters thick to save energy, but shields had never been my strong point and the state I was in made it almost impossible to maintain.
When I felt like I couldn't hold on or protect myself for a moment longer, I found myself hanging from the thick back muscles of the troll, his body motionless. I glanced down, surprised to discover we were on flat ground, and thankfully let go. Landing in a cloud of dust, I coughed, ignored the wobble in my legs, and stood. To say it was cramped is a real understatement. Everywhere I could see, and granted that wasn't very far as I was basically standing in a forest of giants, were trolls, trolls, and more trolls.
Big ones, little ones, jet black ones, others white as chalk, some with luminous striations of crystals running across their bodies in amazing patterns, this was like a gathering of every possible style of troll there was. And once on this wide, mostly level part of the mountain, they stood completely still, saying nothing.
I moved between them, ducking under legs, clambering over bodies, until they were so hard pressed to each other that I apologized quietly then clambered up one and took to walking across the shoulders of the amassed crowd like it was a second story. Nobody objected, nobody moved or said a word.
They were communicating, I was sure of it. A silent, intense energy passing between them as they shared information and maybe even planned their next move. Would it involve squashing all the nasty vampires, except me and Kane of course? I certainly hoped so. Or would they simply be picking their spot, like booking a seat at the cinema, organizing themselves so they got a good view of whatever show awaited? Sure to be a real surprise. I was at a loss.
The ground rose and the way became uneven as I hopped from shoulder to shoulder. It was a good few minutes before I ran out of trolls and found myself standing above the crowd looking down on thousands of hard heads. What a sight, something never before seen by any human alive as far as I knew.
A shudder ran through the crowd like the wind was sweeping their thoughts in a single direction. Then they were on the move without warning. There were no orders given, no direction spoken of, nothing but a shift from stationary to moving. Away from me and toward the source of light I'd seen from far below.
The forest was lost to me now, hidden by the shape of the mountain, only the distant land visible.
"Wait, what are you doing here? Will you help?"
None of them paid me any attention, gave an encouraging word, or acknowledged me in any way.
"Screw you then." I shouted, then ran after them, putting on a burst of speed and traversing the rock as fast as I could.
I caught up with those in front within a minute and looked ahead but there was little to see, certainly not a vampire in sight.
Yet.
Stop, Start
Every few minutes the group paused and became so immobile I lost track of what was troll and what was mountain. It was surreal and I swear I began to believe I was making the whole thing up, that I was delirious and alone on the mountain simply imagining things.
Then they'd move as one and I'd be assured they were really here, until the next time it happened. I was at the front of the troll horde now, keeping pace with the fastest, and the landscape of the mountain changed again. The terrain evened out, going from crags and large overhangs, huge boulders and switchbacks, or perilous climbs, to large swathes of open space where the ground was flat and my bloodied hands had opportunity to repair until the next short climb and more ripping of fingers and more spilling of blood.
My jacket was barely hanging on me now, ripped by rocks, snagged and pulled free so many times it hung in ribbons. My trousers were the same, the knees worn through, torn in numerous places. I didn't even want to think what my bum looked like, as I'd done a lot of sliding over a lot of sharp rock, and judging by the wind chill at my posterior there was definitely something unladylike happening back there. I just hoped I'd worn nice underwear, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what I'd put on, if anything. Trying to feel for signs of modesty was pointless, my fingers were so numb and ragged that all sensation was gone.
Suddenly the lead team stopped, and the sound of an army coming to a halt behind told me their numbers had increased. I glanced back and boy were there a lot of them now, more than I'd imagined. A solid wall of sentient stone all acting like a single being. The leaders pumped their fists in the air, and so did the army, and then a loud bellow issued from their mouths, deafening me. It echoed around the mountains, through valleys, down to the forests far below, shaking trees and scaring wildlife.
Then they ran.
I mean really ran.
And I am small and they were very big. So I jumped on the nearest pair of shoulders again and got taken for the ride of a lifetime.
Eek!
"Stop, stop!" I shouted, utterly freaked out.
I glanced at the solid wall of rock several strides in front of us, me now unfortunately on the lead troll, and at the mass of rampaging trolls behind us. If I tried to jump down I'd be flattened and my mad vamp skills wouldn't save me. But if I stayed where I was I would be flattened anyway.
What was a girl to do?
I closed my eyes, that's what. And I prayed that these dumb brutes who watched over humanity yet never, ever interfered, knew something I didn't. Like, how to smash through mountains.
The roar of the wind was replaced with a familiar sensation, that of passing from one plane to another. A place that was no place, a realm that was no realm, neither on earth nor anywhere else. A supernatural, truly Hidden place.
Shifting feet stopped behind me, the collective sound a sharp crunch as thousands of trolls broke through to the other side and halted just out of unison. In a second they must have all been through as everything went deathly silent and I deigned to open my somewhat damp eyes.
"Huh?" It wasn't just dark, there was zero light. I had to put my fingers to my eyes to check they were open, which was a terrible idea as my fingers were still numb. My eyeballs weren't though, and as I poked myself and let out a squeal, I knew this couldn't be good.
Why had they rushed through the mountain into somewhere utterly devoid of even a hint of light? Why had they been in such a hurry if this was what they were after? Did they have a special watching room like the dwarves that we'd march off to next? Or did they just want to get out of the wind and somehow observe what happened to my family from a distance?
I dared not get off the troll's shoulders as I had no idea how close the others were or what would happen if I did. For all I knew they'd be off running at solid walls again within a heartbeat and I didn't want to be crushed, not now, not ever.
Something made the troll I was hitching a ride on stir, and he turned, so did the others judging by the sounds. I thought I could make out a pinprick of light ahead but it could have just been the effects of poking myself in the eye. I blinked several times but it remained, and it got slowly closer. It took a long time, almost a minute, for it to get close enough for me to realize it was a flame. Burning bright and flickering ever so slightly in the gentle draughts that came from places I couldn't see, only understanding that this space was vast to house so many trolls and for the light to have been so distant.
Another minute and everything came into focus, the light a flame on the end of a long torch held out in front of the oldest dwarf I'd ever seen, and I don't think any of those you see are particularly young, not by human standards anyway. The face was wrinkled like paper scrunched up then flattened out a bit, the hair was white, tinged with ash, and hung in a braid just above the ground. His beard was just as long, and both swished to and fro as he walked with strong, powerful legs toward us.
>
Had to give it to the guy, he had a serious set of dwarf balls.
He stopped in front of us and frowned, bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle. He adjusted a heavy broadsword tucked into his belt and said in a gruff voice, "This way. Everyone's waiting."
With that he turned and strode away.
The trolls moved as one, and I went with them.
Damn Dwarves
The sound of thousands upon thousands of feet stomping on perfectly polished rock is not something I'm likely to ever forget. It was hypnotic and terrifying. A tectonic shift was occurring inside the mountain and it felt unstoppable.
Every single troll walked in unison, slow to keep pace with the hurrying yet still regal bearing of the lead dwarf, yet still faster than they'd ever moved back home. The trolls were focused, intent on whatever the end game to all this was, and I was along for the ride. Yet I got the feeling this was more about me and mine than it was about them, so couldn't quite understand why I was being dismissed as someone without even a bit part in this epic drama.
And anyway, what the hell was happening? Why were we in the realm of the dwarves again? I couldn't be sure, but I was kinda certain this was the same area we'd visited previously, not far from the Looking Room although distance was all relative in these places. On and on we marched, still in the same vast space, it seemingly never ending. Then the dwarf's torch cast an orange glow on a wall with a tunnel mouth twenty feet high and we followed without missing a step, without him turning and acknowledging us in any way.
I entered first, or the troll did and I ducked and wrapped my arms tight around his massive neck, surprisingly comfortable perched on his wide shoulders, his thick back muscles—I know, they aren't really muscles as they're made of rock—acting like a pad for my battered bottom.
In single file we followed the torchlight, us close enough for me to see that the curved tunnel walls were covered in intricate markings and abstract patterns that ran in continuous lines down the whole length. They were typical dwarven style, gentle curves and fat knots, woven lines that flowed past symbols of axes and hammers and always the irregular lumps of gold, beautiful and carved by artists who'd spent hundreds of years perfecting their craft.
