by Lee Bacon
Near the stable, I catch sight of Gerta. When she spots Groo, she lets out a surprised “Moo.”
We have our audience. Now it’s time to put on the big show.
Groo whirls, giving me a little nod. That’s my sign. I take a deep breath and then lunge out from behind a tree. In a loud voice I call out the line I’ve rehearsed a dozen times.
“Stop right there, troll!”
Groo turns on me. His face twists into a convincingly horrifying sneer. He flexes his giant green arms and stomps his humongous green feet.
“Look what we have here!” Groo’s gentle tone is gone, replaced by a rumbling growl. “A puny human!”
Groo plods toward me. The ground shakes beneath my feet.
“I’m gonna rip you apart limb from limb!” he yells. “Then I’ll pulverize every bone in your body. And once that’s done, I’ll turn your brains into a stew!”
I cast a quick glance at our audience below. The farmer and his wife are staring up at us, mouths hanging open in anticipation.
I summon up my loudest voice and yell my lines. “You’ve wreaked havoc on this land long enough! It’s time to end your reign of terror.”
Groo crouches like a wrestler about to enter the ring.
Our fight’s about to start.
We go through the steps like a choreographed dance routine. He swings. I duck. He stomps in one direction. I spin in the other. His massive foot slams the ground in the spot where I was just standing. We have to be careful. One false step and Groo’s fake death scene could become a real death scene for me.
His next punch comes a split second earlier than I’d expected. I scramble to dodge it just in time to avoid getting my teeth smashed in by his enormous green fist.
Groo pretends to lose his footing. As he stumbles, I rear back and throw my rock. It’s supposed to hit him in the shoulder. But my aim’s off. Instead, the rock pegs him right in the eye.
“Ouchie!”
All the intimidating bluster suddenly vanishes from Groo’s voice. He rubs his sore eye like a little kid who’s just been accidentally injured while playing peekaboo.
“That really hurt!” he whines.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “Total accident.”
Groo pouts for another second. Then he pulls himself together. Rising to his full height, he checks to make sure our audience is still watching (they are), and then bellows in his deepest, scariest voice.
“You’ll pay for that, puny human!”
And that’s when character number three joins our scene. Prince Fred. He steps out from behind a boulder, holding the flaming torch above him.
“Not so fast, foul troll!” He puffs out his chest, striking a hero pose. “Never again will you harm innocent humans or chickens. Prepare to die!”
Wielding his torch, Fred charges. Groo stumbles away from the flame. The chase leads all three of us behind a rock outcropping. While we’re hidden from view, I clamber to the top of the rock. That’s where I find our most important prop. The huge lump of moss that Groo carried down from his cave. It’s been crudely shaped and tied together so that it appears to have a giant body. Two arms, two legs, a big round head.
A life-sized fake troll.
It looks nothing like Groo. But from a distance, we can only hope the farmer and his wife won’t be able to tell.
Sewing thread has been tied around fake-Groo’s mossy arms. I grab the piles of thread in my hands, then kick the lump of moss to the ground. By pulling the thread, I’m able to lift the fake troll off the ground until it seems to be standing on its own two feet.
It’s sort of like putting on a big puppet show.
I swing the thread—left and right, left and right—creating the illusion that the troll puppet has just come lumbering out from behind the rocky outcropping. The real Groo keeps himself hidden, providing sound effects to match the action. A thunderous roar. An angry death threat. I pull at the thread so that the puppet’s arms shake up and down as it “speaks.”
Fred bolts out from the other side of the outcropping. He raises his torch and lunges at the fake troll. I yank at the thread, doing my best to make the lump of moss look threatening.
Fred jabs the puppet with his torch. Once, twice, three times. On the third attempt, the flame catches. Fire leaps and flickers against the green moss, quickly spreading from the puppet’s stomach to its arms and legs.
From his hiding spot behind the rocks, Groo lets out a wail. “RAAARRGGHHH! Noooo!”
I swing the thread, causing the puppet to break into a wild dance of pain. Orange flames blaze across its body. Before long, they burn through the thread and the puppet collapses into a fiery heap.
Groo stops screaming.
Groo is dead.
At least, that’s what the farmer and his wife will think.
Hopefully.
“You did it! You killed the troll!”
The farmer and his wife stare at us in awe.
“We’re amazed you pulled it off,” says the farmer.
His wife nods. “We thought fer sure you kids were gonna die.”
“Gee, thanks,” Kara mutters.
I stare at the slovenly pair of adults. Before today, I’d had a much higher opinion of humans than trolls. Now I’m starting to rethink all that. But at least the farmer and his wife keep their promise. They unlock the chicken coop, releasing Xyler from his captivity.
The cat leaps to the ground and scurries out of the stable. Kara and I quickly follow him.
On our way off the farm, we take a detour in the direction of the cow grazing in a field. When Gerta sees us, a clump of hay falls from her mouth.
“I can’t believe what just happened!” she says.
“You shouldn’t.” Kara glances over her shoulder. When she’s sure the farmer and his wife can’t hear us, she turns back to Gerta. “It didn’t happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“We faked everything,” I explain.
“Groo’s perfectly safe,” Kara says. “We staged his death.”
The cow exhales a relieved breath. “Oh, thank the stars!”
“But you can’t tell anyone. If any humans find out he’s still alive—”
“Not to worry.” Gerta gives us a steady look. “I can keep a secret.”
Kara chuckles. “That’s exactly what Groo said. He wanted us to thank you for not telling anyone what really happened to the chickens—”
“Including us,” I say.
A smile hangs on Gerta’s face, but there’s a sadness in her eyes. This is goodbye. Each of us is aware of that. Although we haven’t known the cow long, she helped us when we needed it. And now we’re leaving. Forever.
I place my hand on her back, running my fingers through her short brown hair. “Farewell, Gerta. Once our journey is through, perhaps we’ll see each other again.”
“Perhaps…” The word drifts in the air between us. It seems so small, so unlikely. But at least it’s something.
After one last round of goodbyes, we turn and begin striding through the tall grass. Past the boundary to the farm. Along the way, I cast my gaze up the hill. Somewhere beyond my view is a cave. And inside is a troll, tending his hidden field of crops and chickens.
Groo. Another new friend we may never see again.
But for now, we have a quest to fulfill. With a sigh, I force myself to keep moving as that single word echoes in my mind.
Perhaps.
We spend the afternoon walking. Through rocky canyons and across rickety wooden bridges. Over rivers and between a steep range of hills. Our only guide is the Chasing Charm. The silver owl flaps through the air, its little metallic beak pointing us onward.
At a babbling stream, we stop for a drink. The water is frigid and delicious as it slides down my throat. Kara divides up a helping of the homemade bread and boiled eggs that Groo gave her before we left. Once we’re finished with our meal, Kara and I rise to depart. Xyler doesn’t.
“I can’t go any farther,” the cat
complains between yawns. “It’s been at least three hours since my last nap.”
And so I pluck him off the ground. With Kara’s help, I place him into the hood of my cloak. A cat-sized hammock, just right for Xyler to curl up and sleep in while we continue moving. He bumps softly against my back with each step.
But eventually, exhaustion catches up with me as well. I’ve never walked so far in my entire life. My feet feel as though they’re filled with lead. But somehow I keep going. One heavy foot in front of the other. Trudging onward. Until a village appears in the distance.
I stumble to a stop, pointing at the buildings up ahead.
“It’ll be dark soon.” My voice comes out as a weak croak. “If we want to make camp somewhere, we should stop at that village for provisions.”
Kara stares ahead, uncertainty straining at her features. “What if we’re recognized?”
“We’re a long way from the palace. I doubt these small-town folk have heard anything about my supposed abduction.”
“And if they have?”
I gesture to our drab disguises. “Then they’ll see two poor waifs in cheap rags. Just like the farmer and his wife did.”
The look of doubt hangs in Kara’s expression. “Seems risky.”
“What other choice do we have?” I say softly. “We’ve almost run out of the food Groo gave us. And it gets cold at night. If we’re going to be sleeping outside, we’ll need blankets.”
“Fine,” Kara says. “Let’s just try to avoid drawing too much attention.”
“Agreed.”
Kara points at my back. “That means no more cat hanging from your hood.”
Xyler’s muffled response comes from behind me. “But I was so comfortable.”
“Too bad.” Kara lifts Xyler out of his resting place and sets him on the ground. “I’m not sure about this town’s pet policy.”
“No need to worry.” Xyler stretches. “We felines are masters at avoiding attention.”
The village is little more than a few wooden shacks clustered around a dirt road. But at least there’s a merchant’s post. Kara and I push through the doorway and into the small shop.
A single lamp casts its flickering light across the shelves of merchandise. The selection is meager, but we manage to find what we’re looking for. A bundle of blankets, a bag of apples, and a few links of dried sausage.
The shopkeeper behind the counter is a man with long dark hair. As we approach, he eyes us closely.
“You look like you’re far from home,” he says.
“Just passing through,” I reply.
“That so?” He pushes back his dark hair. “And where might your parents be?”
I’d worried this question might come up, and I respond with words I prepared earlier. “We’re orphans.”
“Sorry to hear that,” the man says in a not particularly sorry voice. “Heldstone can be cruel to parentless children. Especially in times like these. There are dark forces at work in the kingdom.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard rumors of unrest in the palace. They say the king and queen have fallen ill. And that Grand Duke Sturmenburg holds the power until they recover.” The man raises an eyebrow. “If they recover.”
My heart sinks into my stomach. Even after everything that happened, I’d grasped tightly to a faint string of hope. But now it seems my worst fears are coming true. The poison is already taking effect. Mother and Father are dying. And treachery lurks inside the palace like a snake.
The shopkeeper leans forward. Long hair falls over his face like a curtain, but I can still feel his eyes drilling into me.
“And that’s only the beginning,” he says. “There are whispers that the grand duke has joined forces with a being of unspeakable power. A dark and magical being. They call her…the Shadow Queen.”
The shopkeeper goes silent, but his words churn through my mind like a storm. The Shadow Queen. I have no doubt whom the name refers to. The Sorceress.
My heart pummels the inside of my chest. The more I try to control it, the louder it gets. By now, I’m sure every person in this village can hear it.
“Want to know the most troubling part?” the shopkeeper asks.
“Actually…” Kara plops our purchases on the counter. “Do you mind if we just buy this stuff and go?”
The shopkeeper continues speaking as if he didn’t hear a word Kara said.
“People are claiming Prince Frederick has gone missing.” The man peers at me through his dark hair. His head tilts slightly as his gaze moves to Kara. “He was abducted, they say. Taken by a girl about your age.”
Wooden floorboards creak as I shift from one foot to the other. A nervous voice rattles inside my brain. Does he know?
But then the man leans back and offers us an innocent shrug. And all of a sudden, the voice in my head fizzles away. He doesn’t know. He’s just a bored shopkeeper making conversation. Nothing more.
“Sorry for talking your ears off.” He pushes back his hair. “Just thought a couple of orphans ought to know. Keep safe. As I said—dark forces stirring out there.”
Back outside, Kara and I hurry along the dirt road with our newly purchased goods in our hands. Near the edge of the village, I cast one last glance backward. And there’s the shopkeeper. He’s standing in the doorway to his building. It’s impossible to see his face behind his long black hair, but I’m sure of one thing.
He’s watching us.
We hike into the woods, searching for a place to camp for the night. I listen to the sounds of twigs cracking and branches snapping. And something else. A faint rustling in the distance.
Grabbing Fred’s hand, I come to a sudden halt.
He stops beside me. “What’re you—”
“Shhh.” I press my finger to my lips, listening. But now the rustling is gone.
Or maybe it was never there in the first place.
“I thought I heard something,” I say.
“It was probably just Xyler,” Fred replies. “He ran into the bushes a little while ago, looking for food.”
“Yeah.” I peer uncertainly into a tangle of bushes. “Maybe.”
We keep going. Venturing deeper and deeper into the woods. But before long, I hear it again. Something stirring nearby. This time, Fred hears it, too. Whoever or whatever it is out there, it’s a lot bigger than a cat. And it’s getting closer.
Fred and I exchange a nervous glance. Without speaking a word, I can tell we both have the exact same idea.
Run!
In the next instant, we’re dashing through the dense forest, weaving between trees and leaping over fallen branches. I’m sure I hear someone else out there crashing through the thicket, but in the commotion, it’s impossible to know where any other sounds are coming from.
My momentum is suddenly shattered when a hand comes down on my shoulder.
“Gotcha!”
I whirl around to see the shopkeeper. A sword is clenched in his free hand. Behind his wild curtain of black hair, a smile lights up his face.
“I was hoping to run into you again,” he says.
“Let me go!” I swing and kick, but the shopkeeper’s grip only tightens.
A movement flashes in the corner of my eye. Fred rushing toward us. Xyler leaps from a branch above, baring his teeth. For a split second, I think the two of them might actually stand a chance against the shopkeeper. Then I feel something against my neck.
The cold, sharp sting of a blade.
Fred staggers to a stop. All the fight drains from his features, replaced by fear. Xyler slinks backward.
“Take another step and the girl loses her head.” And just to make his point, the shopkeeper presses his sword even closer to my skin.
Fred holds up his empty hands in a gesture of surrender. “Please don’t hurt her.”
The shopkeeper aims a wily gaze in Fred’s direction. “Back in the shop, I thought I recognized you. Now I’m certain of it. You’re Prince Frederick.”
“You don’t look alike. You don’t talk alike. If this lass is your sister, I’m an ogre’s uncle. You’re the prince all right. And this girl here.” He gives my shoulder a painful squeeze. “She’s the one who kidnapped you. There’s a reward for your capture. Both of you.”
Fred hesitates, thinking. “Very well, I confess. I am the prince. Which makes my parents king and queen, remember? They’ll double the reward. Triple it. Wealth beyond your imagining. All you have to do is release us.”
“Your parents will soon be dead,” the shopkeeper says. “They’ve already lost the throne to Grand Duke Sturmenburg and his Shadow Queen.”
A chill grips my spine when I hear those words again. Shadow Queen. As if the Sorceress has already eliminated Fred’s mother, as if she truly is the new queen. After seeing the kind of evil she could unleash in my world, I can only imagine the havoc she can wreak in Heldstone. Especially with the grand duke by her side and an entire army following her commands.
With such dark thoughts snaking through my mind, it takes a while for me to notice the sound. A rumbling in the air, as if a storm is coming. Almost like…
Thunder.
I glance up, but the night sky is clear and cloudless. No sign of rain.
And yet the thunder grows louder. A violent crashing that causes the ground to tremble and the trees to shake.
“Wha…” The shopkeeper swallows half the word in a fearful gulp. “What is that?”
Prince Fred and Xyler exchange an uncertain glance. They’re obviously just as clueless.
Meanwhile, the thunder roars closer.
BOOM!
CRAAACK!
CRUNCH!
All of a sudden, a nearby tree collapses. Tangles of bushes and vines part like a curtain.
And that’s when Groo makes his entrance.
I stare up in disbelief. I never thought I’d be so happy to see an enormous, terrifying troll.
Groo towers above our group, flexing his massive green biceps. I’m fully aware that he’s a free-range-chicken-owning, homemade-bread-making, nature-loving, nonviolent vegetarian. But it’s easy to forget all that when I see him like this. Huge and horrifying. Stomping and raging and bellowing.
