by Bryan Huff
Before long, Hob quit paying attention to Monty’s tale altogether, and took it upon himself to keep watch. It was a good thing he did. Something was wrong. No birds or small critters fled as they approached. It was as if something had already scared them all away.
Then—swish—something stirred in the bushes.
Hob’s ears caught the sound just in time. He stopped short, as a shadow swept through the trees before him. It was a tall human, cloaked in black. There one instant, gone the next. Hob’s pulse quickened. He knew an impending ambush when he saw one.
He peered up the road to see if his unwitting companions had heard anything. They hadn’t. They still marched along, Monty telling his tale. Hob wasn’t surprised; he’d been following them for nearly two days, and they hadn’t discovered him yet, either.
The shadow appeared again, this time weaving through the trees close to the road, stalking Ed and Monty.
Hob followed it. He couldn’t think of anything else to do. If he called out to warn his companions, it would only bring on the ambush sooner—and land him in trouble also. And he certainly couldn’t stop the shadow by himself.
Then, suddenly, the shadow was gone again. Hob scanned the trees, but he’d lost it in the gloom.
He looked to Ed and Monty, as they continued their stroll.
“And her toenail was this big!” said Monty, sticking out his arms.
Then they got ambushed. Not by the shadow, as Hob had feared, but by two soldiers. The pair emerged from the trees, one on either side of the road, right in front of Ed and Monty.
The soldiers were big, burly men. One was noble looking with a thick wrap-around mustache, the other grim and squinting. They wore identical crimson cloaks and gold-plated armor with the same circular crest on the breastplates: a red crown on a golden sun. They held long swords in their gloved hands.
“Hello, gents,” said the mustached soldier. “Glad you could make it.”
“Aye,” said his grim companion. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Ed and Monty stopped dead, Monty’s tall tale cut short. Drawing their goblin sabers, they turned and fled back up the road—back in Hob’s direction. But before they’d taken three strides, the shadow swept out of the trees in front of them, blocking their escape. They were surrounded.
In a flash, there was a sleek sword in the shadow’s hand. In another flash, Ed and Monty’s sabers were out of theirs—sent spinning to the ground. The shadow had disarmed them both with one swing.
The two soldiers then seized Ed and Monty from behind, pinning their arms back in tight, painful-looking holds. The mustached one took Monty. The grim one took Ed. Both Ed and Monty struggled furiously against their captors’ grips, grimacing harder the longer they fought. Finally, they gave up. They’d been captured.
For a long time, they just stood there, glaring at the shadow in furious silence.
Then Ed spoke. “Captain Fist,” he growled.
The Captain dropped the hood of her black cloak to reveal her stern, proud face. She nodded curtly to the boy.
“Prince Edric,” she replied.
Chapter Eight
A Wild Ride
Prince Edric!
Hob had to cover his mouth to keep from gasping aloud. The boy—Hob’s savior, adventure guide, and unwitting companion—was not just Ed, but Edric, Crown Prince of Yore!
Hob was drawn forward by a sudden, unshakable curiosity. He felt like a fish on a hook. He crept up through the trees, took cover behind a large oak at edge of the road, and peeked out for a better look at the Prince and his captors. The two big soldiers continued to restrain Prince Edric and Monty, while Captain Fist circled them like a wolf around its prey.
“I knew you would come by ’zis road,” said the Captain, “if you survived ’ze Gobble Downs, ’zat is.” She paused. “It was madness to go in ’zere.”
She spoke with a deep accent, which Hob couldn’t imagine coming from any native speaker of Common Tongue—the language of humans, dwarves, and goblins in Yore and much of the wider world. Hob had read that in the East the old languages still came first, and he guessed that the Captain must have come from one of those distant lands.
“You’re the one who chased us in there!” snapped Monty. “You great wit—”
“Now, now, Master Montague,” Captain Fist interrupted. “Don’t be cross. You must have known you could not escape me forever. It is impressive you managed to sneak Prince Edric out of ’ze palace at all, under ’ze watch of my Royal Guards.”
“I do what I can,” Monty growled.
“Indeed,” said Captain Fist. “But now, ’ze fun is over. ’Ze Great Lords of ’ze Royal Council have unanimously declared Prince Edric a deserter, in violation of ’ze Royal Oath, and have ordered me to return him to ’ze palace by whatever means necessary. And I will.”
“They have no right to give that order!” Prince Edric spat. “I’m the Prince!” He struggled against the grip of the grim soldier—who must have been one of the Royal Guards—but he couldn’t break free.
“’Zey have every right,” Captain Fist scolded him. “In your rush to forget who you are, have you also forgotten ’ze laws of ’zis land? ’Ze laws ’zat dictate ’ze powers and duties of both Crown and Council? ’Ze Kingdom may be united by its loyalty to your family, but ’ze Great Lords of ’ze Council still hold sway in ’zeir own regions. You cannot go against all of ’zem at once. You need ’zem.”
“Not as much as they need me!” Edric countered. “Isn’t that really why they won’t let me leave? Why they tried to stop my father from leaving? They need us around to legitimize their power. Well, they can’t make me smile for the crowds, and slap the royal seal on their crooked laws, if I’m not there to do it!”
Captain Fist shook her head. “’Zey want you to stay, because ’zey believe ’ze Kingdom is only safe with a member of ’ze royal bloodline on ’ze ’zrone. As do your people.”
“Then they’ve all got their heads in the sand!” Prince Edric said. “The goblins are coming for us, and there’s only one way to stop them. If I don’t find my father, and help him finish his quest, the whole Kingdom’s doomed, no matter what!”
Hob gaped. That was the purpose of the King’s quest, of Prince Edric’s quest, nothing short of saving Yore from the goblins?
“My men and I have been fighting goblins since before you were born,” said Captain Fist. “I know all too well ’zeir strength. And I also know ’zey can be defeated. ’Zat is why it should be ’ze duty of our Prince, our future King, to stay here and fight ’ze war at home!” She paused. “For all his own recklessness, your father was a wise enough ruler to see ’zis. I am certain he left you here to keep your family’s oath in case something went wrong. And I am certain he left me here to ensure ’zat you do. To stop you from chasing after him on ’ze same desperate, all-or-nothing quest ’zat has surely claimed his life.”
Hob gaped again, connecting yet more of the dots. Prince Edric’s father, King Edgar of Yore, was not just gone, as Monty had alluded to the night before, he was dead? Did any of the other goblins know this? Did the Sorcerer?
“You don’t know any of that!” Prince Edric shouted at the Captain, his voice full of pain and determination. “My father’s not dead! And you’ll never stop me from finding him!”
“I already have,” said Captain Fist. She turned to her men. “Bind ’zem!”
Hob watched, as the two guards holding Edric and Monty bound their hands behind their backs with short ropes, and then coiled a longer rope around their torsos, tying them together back to back. Meanwhile, Captain Fist led three horses onto the road from where they’d been hidden in the trees, two white ones and a massive gray charger. She looped their reins around three narrow tree trunks on the verge of the road—straight across from Hob’s hiding place—and signaled to her men. Together, the guards hauled Edric and Monty over, and hoisted them onto the rump of the gray charger. The pair sat there,
tied together, cursing and squirming, their legs dangling helplessly over the horse’s sides.
“I will take ’zem to King’s Rock myself,” Fist informed the guards. “Sir Deckard,” she said to the grim guard, “you ride with me. Sir Reginald,” she said to the mustached guard, “you return to Valley Top and call off ’ze search.”
But none of them got to do any of that.
Before the guardsmen could even answer, the Captain threw up a hand to silence them. She’d heard something. A huge creature was stomping toward them through the underbrush. The noise grew louder and louder, until—crash!—not fifty paces up the road, Carl the Troll burst out of the trees!
The troll appeared in a hail of leaves and branches, peering around and sniffing the air with all three of its heads. At first, Hob couldn’t believe his eyes. Then it dawned on him. The sound he’d heard the night before—of some huge beast plodding and sniffing off in the forest—had been the troll tracking their scent. It had followed them all the way from the Gobble Downs.
With one last deep sniff, its heads turned in unison to stare at the guards, the captives, and the horses. The guards and captives stared back, stunned by the sudden arrival of the troll. Luckily, the horses were tethered facing the opposite direction, preventing them from getting spooked.
“Carl Two! Carl Three! Look!” exclaimed the troll’s left head.
“I see ’em,” muttered its middle head. “And I told you! I don’t want to be Carl Two!”
“It’s better than being Carl Three!” said its right head. “Besides, you’re in the middle. You’d be Carl Two no matter which way we counted.”
“Can we discuss this later?” snapped the left head, now apparently known as Carl One.
“Right!” agreed Carls Two and Three.
The troll raised its axe and charged.
“Attack!” shouted Captain Fist.
At once, she and her guardsmen rushed the troll. crash! clang! The guards met the troll’s axe with their swords, and battled it back along the road.
It wasn’t going to be an easy fight. Despite the guards outnumbering the troll three to one, the reach of the troll’s long axe made it nearly impossible for them to land a blow, leaving them with no option but to dodge, deflect, and wait for an opening.
One finally came when the troll leveled a wild overhand swing at Captain Fist. Unable to meet the force of it head on, she sidestepped it. The troll’s axe blade sank a foot into the dirt. Fist then used her sword to pin it in place, adding her own weight to the troll’s.
Seizing the opportunity, the two guardsmen charged in. slam! With one swipe of its free arm, the troll sent them both flying. They landed on their backs in the middle of the road, thoroughly dazed.
Fist was alone with the troll. It yanked its axe free, throwing her off balance. Then it attacked again. But the Captain wasn’t to be outdone. Moving like black lightning, she swooped and rolled, and nearly knocked the axe out of the troll’s hands with her sword.
Hob watched in awe. He had never seen anyone fight like Captain Fist. He’d thought Edric and Monty were good swordsmen when he’d seen them fight in the Gobble Downs, but they were amateurs compared to her. It was only because of the troll’s sheer size and strength that the Captain had her hands full.
Then Hob realized, she had her hands full! With Fist busy, and the other guards knocked senseless, Hob could try to free Edric and Monty. He dashed across the road to where they sat tied up on the charger’s back.
At the sight of Hob reaching up and pulling himself into the saddle, Edric’s and Monty’s jaws both dropped.
“Hello,” Hob whispered, sitting backward in the saddle to face them.
“So, I did see you in the trees!” whispered Edric.
“What’re you doin’ here?” Monty hissed.
“Saving you,” said Hob, as he began tugging at the knots in their ropes.
“A likely storeeey—” Monty sputtered. “Ack! Yer makin’em tighter! Tighter!”
Hob fumbled with the ropes some more, trying to undo the damage he’d already done. But he only made it worse.
“He’s right. It’s not working!” croaked Edric.
“Okay, okay …” said Hob. He couldn’t figure out the knots. “I guess we’ll have to try something else.”
He looked around for something to cut the ropes with, but all the sharp objects in the vicinity were in the possession of the three guards and the rampaging troll. Then Hob spotted the way the horse’s reins were looped around the tree.
“Oh no …” Monty groaned, anticipating Hob’s next move. “Can’t you just leave us alone?”
“Don’t worry,” Hob assured him. He spun sideways in the saddle and leaned over to the tree trunk to pull the reins loose. “This I can un-tie!”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Monty.
“Would you rather stay here with them?” asked Edric, nodding back at the guards and the troll. “Because I wouldn’t. Go for it, Hob!”
Hob un-looped the reins, and gave them a sharp tug. They slipped from around the tree and hung loose in his hands. Then he faced forward in the saddle and began snapping them up and down, which, as far as he knew, was how you got a horse to go.
The charger didn’t budge. Instead, it just shook its head and neighed angrily. “Neeheheheheh!”
Uh oh, thought Hob.
The neigh was so loud that it caught the attention of Captain Fist, the Royal Guards—who’d finally returned to Fist’s side—and Carl the Troll. Hob turned to see them frozen, mid-fight, staring back at him. Captain Fist and the Royal Guards looked confused, Carl the Troll giddy with excitement.
“The little goblin and the man-captives!” the troll’s three heads exclaimed. “Off with their heads!”
The troll shoved Captain Fist and her men out of the way, and rushed toward Hob, Edric, and Monty.
With a new sense of urgency, Hob redoubled his efforts to get their horse moving. He snapped its reins wildly, bounced up and down in its saddle, and kicked his heels against its sides.
Again, the charger just shook its head and neighed.
In a panic, Hob dropped its reins, and started yanking right on its long mane, shouting, “Go, you stubborn old beast! Go!”
The charger still didn’t move. Annoyed by the hair pulling, it merely turned its head sideways to glare at Hob with one dark, glassy eye. For an instant, Hob thought he was done for.
Then, with its head turned, the charger finally caught sight of the massive troll barreling up behind it. “Neeheheheheh!” Before Hob could give its mane another tug, the charger squealed and bolted!
The motion was so sudden that Edric and Monty were nearly thrown from the charger’s rump. In a flurry, Hob used one hand to grab the ropes around Edric’s and Monty’s torsos and one hand to grab the front plate of the charger’s saddle, just barely keeping everyone aboard. It was obvious they weren’t so much riding the charger, as being carried off by it. Hob was just thankful it had been facing in the right direction—northwest, toward the mountains.
“What are you doin’?” Monty cried.
“I told you,” Hob shouted. “Saving you!”
“Well, stop it! We don’t want to be saved! We don’t want to be saved!”
“No, keep going!” hollered Edric, glancing back. “We’ve got company!”
Hob glanced back too. Carl the Troll was right on their tail. And the Royal Guards were mounting their two remaining horses to give chase, Captain Fist leaping onto one, her two men squeezing together onto the other.
What followed was a wild ride through the forest. With their arms and torsos bound, Edric and Monty could only grip the charger’s rump with their legs, and if Hob let go of their ropes for even a split second, they were bound to fall off. So, the three of them jostled around together, as the charger galloped down long straightaways, clattered around tight corners, and leapt over deep potholes and fallen trees. Meanwhile, Carl the Tro
ll, surprisingly fast on its troll-sized legs, and the Royal Guards, on their two horses, were never far behind.
Unable to steer the charger, Hob could do nothing to avoid the many slivers of sunlight that pierced the tunnel-like canopy over the road. Flash, flash, flash! They came at him faster all the time, making him squint and grow dizzy. Then, finally, a large gap opened in the trees overhead, bringing the world beyond the forest into full view. Hob shut his eyes to keep out the light. But seared into his vision was the silhouette of several great mountain peaks rising up before a bight afternoon sky.
The canopy closed in again quickly, and Hob was able to return to merely squinting. Still, it seemed the forest was finally growing thinner. In some twenty minutes of riding, Hob, Edric, and Monty had covered more ground than they had all morning.
Unfortunately, Hob had no idea where to go next, or how to get there without having any control over the charger. Even worse, with his head now swimming and his arms shaking from holding on to the saddle and Edric and Monty’s ropes, he feared he wouldn’t be able to keep things together for much longer anyway.
As the road began a series of tight, winding turns through a hilly area, it put the last of Hob’s strength to the test. He and the others swayed dangerously from side to side.
“You have no idea what you’re doing!” Monty shouted at him, quite correctly. “Let us off! I demand to be let off!”
After they came around the next bend, Monty got his wish. whump! Appearing out of nowhere, a long oak branch swung toward them, catching Hob in the chest, and sweeping him back into Edric and Monty. Suddenly, all three of them were flying from their horse. Everything flipped and rolled, and they landed in a heap in the middle of the road.
Hob sputtered and wheezed as he tried to find his breath. When he opened his eyes, the whole world was upside down, and the charger was galloping off around another bend. A second later, someone grabbed Hob by his tunic, pulled him from the pile, and sent him stumbling away.
