by Tom Hoffman
Books by Tom Hoffman
The Eleventh Ring
The Thirteenth Monk
The Seventh Medallion
Orville Mouse and the Puzzle
of the Clockwork Glowbirds
Orville Mouse and the Puzzle
of the Shattered Abacus
Paperback versions available online
at Amazon, Barnes & Noble
With lots of love
for Molly, Alex, Sophie, and Oliver
A very special thanks to my wonderful editors
Debbie, Alex, Beth, and Karen for their
invaluable assistance and excellent advice.
Copyright © 2015 by Tom Hoffman
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Tom Hoffman Graphic Design
Anchorage, Alaska
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Tom Hoffman
Visit my website at thoffmanak.wordpress.com
Email: [email protected]
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: 2016
ISBN 978-0-692-23957-5
Table of Contents
Part One
Chapter 1 - The Visitor
Chapter 2 - The Cavern of Silence
Chapter 3 - The Tree of Eyes
Chapter 4 - The Swamp of Lost Things
Chapter 5 - Oliver T. Rabbit
Chapter 6 - The Most Beautiful Island
Part Two
Chapter 1 - A Voice in the Night
Chapter 2 - The Mystery of the Puzzling Eye
Chapter 3 - Oliver’s Revelation
Chapter 4 - The Search Begins
Chapter 5 - Prey for the Pterosaurs
Chapter 6 - The Cave
Chapter 7 - Oliver T. Rabbit vs. The Tree of Eyes
Chapter 8 - The Diaries
Chapter 9 - Clara's Gift
Chapter 10 - The Road to Penrith
Chapter 11 - The Adventurer
Chapter 12 - Bartholomew's Choice
Chapter 13 - Theodore Rabbit
Chapter 14 - Descent into Darkness
Chapter 15 - R75
Chapter 16 - Oliver's Plan
Chapter 17 - Morthram
Chapter 18 - Blinking
Chapter 19 - The Ruby Ring
Chapter 20 - The Recipe
Chapter 21 - Morthram's Betrayal
Chapter 22 - The Plan
Chapter 23 - Oliver's Tale
Chapter 24 - Oliver's New Library Card
Chapter 25 - Finding Eftar
Chapter 26 - The Birth of Edmund
Chapter 27 - The Fly
Chapter 28 - The Falling Ring
Chapter 29 - The Sacrifice of Bartholomew Rabbit
Chapter 30 - Bruno Rabbit
Chapter 31 - King Fendaron
Chapter 32 - Edmund's New Job
“The universe is old
beyond our comprehension. Many
civilizations and species have come
and gone before us. We are not the first
to be here, and others will follow us
long after we are gone.”
– Bruno Rabbit
“All chaos is order misunderstood.”
–Alexander Pope
Bartholomew the Adventurer Trilogy
Book One
The Eleventh Ring
• • • PART ONE • • •
Chapter 1
The Visitor
Bartholomew Rabbit was lost in the world of dreams. His room was all shadows, save for the light of a clouded moon filtering in through the faded curtains.
There was a blink of light at the foot of his bed, then rippling air, then a figure wearing a dark green cloak, a flowing hood concealing its features. The figure held motionless, staring silently at the slumbering rabbit.
A pale blue beam of light shot out from its paw, creating a soft glow around Bartholomew’s head.
“He speaks with her in his dreams but forgets their words.”
The visitor’s gaze moved about the room.
“There are no photographs of her to be seen.”
The cloaked figure stood for long moments in the echoing stillness of the room. A pink cloud emerged from beneath its hood and drifted across the bed. It gently enveloped Bartholomew and was drawn into him.
Bartholomew turned restlessly in his sleep, a frown appearing on his face.
“You must find it. It is yours and you must find it.”
A blink of light and the visitor was gone.
Chapter 2
The Cavern of Silence
Bartholomew Rabbit absently stroked his soft furry chin. “Perhaps it rolled under the sofa. I could have been laying there reading a book and unwittingly knocked it to the floor, where it bounced off the table leg and rolled straight under the sofa.”
“Sir, you’ve searched there three times already, and found nothing. Why don’t you describe the missing object to me, and I will help you look for it?”
“Hmm, well, let’s see, it’s extremely valuable of course, and small enough to roll under a piece of furniture. Since it can roll, its shape is obviously more spherical than boxy in nature, and it’s probably a darker color, one that blends in well with other dark colors. No need to fret, Parfello. With both of us looking now, I’m certain it will turn up shortly.”
For six days Bartholomew had been endlessly scouring the house for a missing object. He couldn’t name it or even clearly describe it, and yet during his searches he often seemed on the verge of hysteria. This was not like him, and his servant Parfello had been doggedly trying to determine the cause of this very concerning behavior.
Parfello closed his eyes and stood motionless. To all the world it looked as though he had fallen asleep, but the truth would prove to be far more interesting than that. When he opened his eyes again he saw Bartholomew lying on the floor, his head buried beneath the couch.
“Parfello, would you please open the curtains? It’s quite dark under here, and this dust is dreadful. You might want to consider cleaning under the furniture on a daily basis. You do realize how important it is that I find it, don’t you? It belongs to me. I’ve had it for ages, and I don’t believe I can go on without it. I do wish I could remember who gave it to me.”
“I am well aware how important it is, sir. You have mentioned that several times today. And yesterday also, if I am not mistaken. I will schedule a thorough daily cleaning under all the furniture, starting tomorrow morning.”
“And don’t forget to wax.”
“Very good, sir.”
This brief conversation had confirmed to Parfello the course of action he must take. He waited until after dinner when Bartholomew was finishing a large glass of white wine.
“Sir, I completely understand your deep concern over this missing item. I would be equally vexed if I had such a valuable item disappear, especially one so dear to me. I have given it much thought, and may have a solution. There is a rather extraordinary place I know called the Cavern of Silence. It is said that any question you ask there will be answered if you wait patiently for the reply. It occurred to me you could travel to this mystical site and ask the cavern to describe your lost treasure.”
Bartholomew looked doubtfully at Parfello.
“Not to be rude, but that sounds a little silly. A mystical cavern that answers questions?” He swirled his wine. “On the other paw, I simply must find it before...” Bartholomew frowned, leaving his sentence unfinished. He waggled his head, then nodded. “Pack my bags, Parfello. I will visit your magical cavern. It would seem I have no other options open to me.”
“Very good, sir.”
When Bartholomew rose the next morning he found Parfello had packed two handsome leather satchels for his trip. He eyed the pair of gleaming handcrafted bags.
“Parfello, I’m sorry to say this will not do. I need a pack containing only the essentials. Something an adventurer would carry with him.”
“An adventurer, sir?”
“Indeed. As I lay in bed last night I realized I have always liked the idea of becoming an adventurer. I believe such a life would suit me well. So, I have decided to treat this outing to your Cavern of Silence as my first adventure, and consequently will need an adventurer’s pack. Perhaps a canvas sack with a heavy strap on it, but something with some age to it. A perfectly crisp new bag would give it away that this was my first adventure. That would not do.”
“Indeed not, sir. Perhaps the gardener might have such a pack in the tool shed. I will search for an old canvas pack with a heavy strap on it which resembles something an experienced adventurer might carry with him on one of his exploits.”
A short while later Parfello returned with an old wrinkled canvas sack covered with dirt, stains, dried leaves and cobwebs. He held it gingerly with one paw.
“Will this be adequate, sir?”
Bartholomew studiously eyed the bag.
“Perfect. You have hit the bull’s eye. Put all my gear into the pack and I shall be ready to depart on my first adventure.”
“Your gear, sir?”
“Do you know nothing about adventuring? The sum of everything in my pack is called my gear. Simply take everything out of the two valises and put it in the pack. Voila, it has become my gear.”
“Very good, sir. I shall prepare your adventuring gear.”
“Excellent. Just having this pack is making me feel quite adventurous.”
An hour later Bartholomew closed the front door behind him and was on his way. He carefully studied the map Parfello had given him, heading north towards the Cavern of Silence. Along the way he ran into any number of rabbits out for a stroll, and occasionally they would strike up a conversation with him.
“Good day to you, sir.”
“And to you, my friend.”
“A lovely day for a stroll, is it not?”
“Ah, a stroll. If only life were that simple. I am on an adventure, not just ambling about for a breath of fresh air.”
“An adventure? That sounds quite lovely.”
“I would hardly use the word lovely to describe adventuring. Adventures can be quite perilous you know, especially when one is searching for a priceless lost object and lives may very well be at stake. Who knows what dastardly forces may try to thwart my every effort.”
“Oh my, do be careful sir.”
“Thank you, I fully intend to. That is part and parcel of being an adventurer. I am quite familiar with all manner of dangers.”
In the evenings Bartholomew would set up his small camp and cook dinner over a fire. It was not something he was accustomed to, but he quite enjoyed the novelty of it and after several nights became rather skilled at it.
It was on the fourth day that he came face to face with the rabid wolf. He was walking through a dark forest, absently listening to the soft crunchy noises the pine cones made under his feet, when his ears perked up at the sound of a low growl.
“Good heavens, I believe my stomach is telling me it’s time for lunch.”
As he looked around for a place to prepare his meal he spotted the wolf. It stood about thirty feet behind him and was both enormous and terrifying. Its teeth were bared and covered with white foam, its red eyes narrow and threatening. With a low growl it crept towards Bartholomew.
Bartholomew responded in the manner of a true intrepid adventurer. He gave a loud yelp, dropped his pack, and scampered up the nearest tree. Soon he was high above the wolf. It wasn’t until several hours later that he was able to descend from his lofty perch. He gathered up his pack and was on his way again. As he strolled along, he pondered his reaction to the wolf.
“I did successfully avoid being eaten by the beast, but the manner in which I avoided him was quite unsuitable for a rugged adventurer. I believe I shall begin carrying a stout walking stick to use as a weapon of defense in case the need arises again.”
Farther along the forest path he found a long, heavy stick.
“Ah, this will do quite nicely. No more scurrying up trees for me.”
Bartholomew reached the entrance to the Cavern of Silence late the next afternoon. After he had set up camp, he opened his adventuring pack and removed a long climbing rope Parfello had thoughtfully provided. He lashed one end of the rope to a nearby tree and tossed the other end down into the dark cavern. He peered into the abyss below.
“This looks rather perilous indeed, but it is something which must be done.” Saying those words made Bartholomew feel quite like a brave adventurer.
Gripping the rope firmly, he lowered himself into the Cavern of Silence. His eyes soon became accustomed to the darkness and he could see a rocky ledge jutting out directly below him. When his feet touched the ground he released his grip on the rope. His eyes swept the cavern, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. A few narrow beams of light shone down from the opening above, illuminating a jagged wall on the far side of the cavern. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from a mystical cavern that would reveal the answers to all questions, but this was not it. This was far worse than he had imagined. It was darker, damper and more foreboding. Could this dismal place truly answer his question?
Sitting on the ledge, he took a deep breath and began to speak.
“I am missing something, but have no idea what it is. To be quite truthful, the loss of this item is causing a severe ache inside me. For the life of me, I cannot think what this phantom item might be, but I know it holds great importance for me. I can’t even say for certain that an actual item is missing. It’s all quite confusing and at times I feel as if I shall go mad if I don’t find it. As though my own life may be at stake.” It was somewhat awkward baring his soul to a cavern, but he pressed on.
“Cavern of Silence, please describe to me this missing object.”
He waited. He listened. There was no answer. He asked again. And again.
Hours passed. Day turned to night. Night turned to day. Supplies were running low, and he knew he could not spend much more time in the cavern.
“Cavern, I don’t know if I am a fool on a fool’s errand, but if you are truly there, please describe to me the missing object. I am asking for nothing other than this.”
A bumblebee flew by. A leaf fluttered down from far above.
His eyes drooped. His head nodded, his long ears falling limply across his face. He was drifting between asleep and awake when the Cavern of Silence finally answered.
“You must find your Great Gem.”
Bartholomew’s eyes popped open. He sat up straight, listening intently for the voice. He was alone in a black void of silence. There was only the voice of the Cavern.
“Who said that!? Great Gem? What is the Great Gem?”
“It is what you are missing and what you must find. Go now and seek guidance from the Tree of Eyes.”
“Wait! You must tell me more about this Great Gem and where to find the Tree of Eyes.”
The Cavern of Silence did not speak again. Its answers had only led to more questions.
Bartholomew’s journey home was quite uneventful. When he arrived he described his trip in great detail to Parfello, although in that version he had soundly defeated the rabid wolf with his heavy walking stick. Their conve
rsation continued long into the evening.
“Parfello, the Cavern of Silence told me to seek guidance from something called the Tree of Eyes. Have you ever heard of such a creature? Do you know where I can find it?”
“This is beyond anything I am familiar with. All I know is words spoken by the Cavern of Silence are to be considered absolute truth. You must do as it says and find the Tree of Eyes.”
The search for the elusive tree began in Bartholomew’s library. He spent countless hours reading scores of volumes, including The Ancient Book of Maps and The Book of Mysterious and Forgotten Places. He even attempted to read a dusty old Latin tome about the nature of trees which was so bewildering it brought on an excruciating headache.
Twice a week he accompanied Parfello on shopping trips into Lepus Hollow, and while he was there Bartholomew made it a point to question any visiting merchants and travelers he happened to see. He heard any number of strange and marvelous tales, but none concerning the Tree of Eyes. The hunt for this enigmatic tree continued, day after day, week after week.
It was a curious intervention of fate which brought an end to his search. Bartholomew was attempting to decipher some ancient hieroglyphs when he was struck by another splitting headache. Blindly reaching out for his bottle of Madame Beffy’s Headache Tonic, he knocked over a vase filled with glass marbles. They fell to the floor with a great clatter. As he watched them bouncing and skittering across the stone tiles, he had an unexpected thought. The wild, chaotic path of the marbles was not really chaotic at all. Each marble was precisely following the known laws of physical motion. He was not witnessing chaos, but order and perfection. Each marble was exactly where it should be at every moment in time.
He was surprised by this thought. It was completely unlike him to think of such things, but he was not displeased. In fact, he felt rather proud of this grand idea.
Despite his headache, he got down on his knees to gather up the marbles. Reaching under the sofa he pulled out five marbles, a mummified carrot, and a tattered old book titled Dr. Mazlow’s Guide to Unusual Trees. Bartholomew had never seen the book before.
