Ravenwild: Book 01 - Ravenwild

by Peter Plasse

  “Well, yes we do, as a matter of fact. But it is not quite the same as Hogwarts. Similar enough, though. For example, your father is board-certified in Emergency Medicine. He, you might say, is an Emergency Medicine doctor of the first school. That is to say, there is no Emergency Medicine schooling higher than what he achieved. Same with me, sort of. There is no more wizard training I can receive under another wizard. Once one achieves wizard-of-the-first-school, the rest of what one learns is by self-study. And, of course, one would be expected to bring the younger wizards along, but there are presently not a lot of young wizards to teach, only a handful, really. Anyway, hopefully, your Mom and Dad will help me to fix that. Meanwhile, do you wish to visit Stephanie in Ravenwild? You have merely to ask, and I shall make it so.”

  “Stupid Stephanie,” said Orie. “I can’t believe she just took off like that without even asking us. Now we have to go there. We could have gone anywhere, anytime.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “I know it,” echoed Jacqueline. “Stupid Stephanie.”

  “Now, now,” said Jessica. “We’ll have none of that. It is true that she should have waited so that we could all go together, but there is no use crying over spilt milk. Hemlock, how soon can you get us there?”

  “Wait a minute, Mom,” broke in Orie. “We need to talk about his. Do we all need to go there to get her? Hemlock said she was perfectly safe. Why can’t you and Jacqueline go get her, and then Dad and I could go somewhere else. Jacqueline, you want to go with Mom, right?”

  “Duh,” said Jacqueline, rolling her eyes.

  “Orie, don’t be ridiculous,” snapped his mother. She nodded in Hemlock’s direction. “We don’t know who this is. We are clueless about this. No disrespect intended. If one goes, we all go. And we are all going. And we are all going now. I won’t have it any other way. Help me out here, Blake.” She looked at him with a look that said, “This is the way it’s going to be. Period.”

  Blake stroked his chin. “I agree with your mother. It looks like we are headed for, where did you say this was again, Hemlock?”

  “It is called Ravenwild. It is a small country on a planet that is also quite small compared with your Earth. There are basically two other countries, Slova and Vultura. The principal race of Ravenwild is Human, such as yourselves, although about thirty percent of the population is made up of Elves and Dwarves. The Elves are the oldest of the intelligent races. The principle races of Slova and Vultura are Trolls and Gnomes, respectively. They, like the citizenry of Ravenwild, are unmistakable in their physical characteristics.

  “Ravenwild has been at war with these two other countries, basically trying to survive, for as long as anyone on their world has been alive. Culturally, the setting is roughly equivalent to the middle ages of your Earth. The weapons are swords, bows and arrows, those sorts of things. The Humans are on the brink of discovering gunpowder, but as of yet have not.”

  “Well it sounds horrible,” said Jessica. “Dangerous. Take us there now so we can get our daughter.”

  Hemlock reached into the folds of his simple white robe and removed a small globe. He peered into it, Jacqueline looking along with him. All leaned in to have a look.

  “There she is!” cried Jacqueline. “She’s riding a big white horse, a huge white horse. It looks like she’s following a boy on another horse, a black one. They’re riding really fast.”

  Hemlock placed it back in his robe, mumbling something like, “See, she is riding with Erik up to the castle as we speak. Good. Well, give me a few minutes and we’ll be ready to go.”

  “Get us there now, Hemlock,” snarled Jessica. “Now.”

  “I will need a few minutes. Get dressed as you would if you were going camping. It’s summer there, so you won’t need a lot in the way of warm clothes.”

  And with that, he vanished.

  A few minutes later the four of them were all together in the living room. Blake was seated at the piano, tinkling away, looking distracted. Jessica fumed, muttering to herself how she would kill Hemlock if anything untoward had happened to Stephanie; how she would rearrange his anatomy, with the select removal of certain parts for emphasis. “Wizard or no wizard, we’ll see how wizardly he looks without a head,” she murmured under her breath.

  Blake stopped playing abruptly, leaned towards the remainder of his family, and asked in a low voice, “So what is it, then? Are we bound for Ravenwild as a family? Are we committed to this or what?” He placed his hand outwards in the form of a tight fist. All responded by joining him in this pose, fists together in the center of the family circle, after which Jacqueline hugged her mother and asked, “Is it going to be okay Mom? Are we going to find Stephanie?”

  Jessica’s face might have been carved out of a solid block of granite as she responded, “It will be fine, Jacq’. Won’t it Blake?”

  Blake nodded while he tightened one of the straps on his backpack. “Interplanetary travel by some mechanism we could never possibly begin to understand to rescue our wayward daughter who has journeyed before us to a land centuries behind us in technological advancement that is at war with two other lands, the populations of which are comprised in large part of Trolls and Gnomes, whilst we will find ourselves aligned with Elves and Dwarves? What could possibly cause us to think otherwise?”

  Orie smiled while he worked on putting an edge on his sheath knife.

  “Dad,” said Jacqueline, taking a bite of a big red apple. “Nobody mentioned Elves.”

  “Did so,” said Orie.

  And with that pivotal comment, there was a protracted silence. It was the kind of silence that eats at you as you think very, very scary thoughts as to what things might happen to you in the near future, all of them bad. The kind of silence when every sound, the sound of Orie’s blade being honed, the sound of the straps of Blake’s pack getting redone to accommodate all the survival gear, seems amplified.

  Jacqueline coughed. She had been getting over a simple chest cold when this escapade began. Sitting off by herself, she seemed lost in the rocks of the fireplace, the precise stonework of which she had always liked.

  Orie finally spoke, looking up from his blade. “Dad, we have STATES in two weeks. If this guy Hemlock, who is clearly a real smart guy, doesn’t deliver what he says he can deliver and I miss STATES, I am going to be pissed. And I mean pissed. But that’s just a reality check. Meanwhile, do we really believe that Stephanie is on some parallel dimension-world called Ravenwild, and that we are planning to travel there to get her and then come back here and... get on with our lives? Do we really believe this?”

  “Something like that,” said Jacqueline, “Something like that. Right after Mom and Dad go to Hemlock’s world and save his people from extinction while we’re asleep upstairs. Right, Mom?”

  “There is little question that whatever we are about to do is pretty crazy,” said Blake, “But it is so unbelievable it almost has to be true, doesn’t it?”

  Again there was a long period of silence as each thought about the bizarre and, frankly, scary trip facing them. Orie went back to polishing his steel. Blake and Jessica continued to assimilate the survival equipment, and Jacqueline finished straightening her pack. Satisfied, she went outside to set out plenty of food and water for animals, all of which gathered around her, vying for her attention.

  Stephanie was, of course, conspicuously absent. Normally she would have been the one to organize the cooking gear; the utensils, waterproof matches, and such.

  Jacqueline moved on to this chore. When she had finished, her announcing of it brought forth in each of them the agonizing reminder that Stephanie, no matter what this man, or wizard, or whatever he was, said, might be in harm’s way.

  Harm’s way was Stephanie’s exact quandary as she raced along with dizzying speed on Spirit, following Erik, on a well-worn trail. Accompanying them were twelve Ravenwild soldiers. Most were Men, but there were two Dwarves and one Elf. They were dug in so hard in the tightness of a steep turn that the horses were
canted at an angle that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Mud flew hard from the horses’ hooves as the Trolls, riding their Lizardrulls, lumbered along behind them. The Lizardrulls were at full lather, which flew from their bared fangs, making little clouds in the cool afternoon. They made a raspy, chilling sound as they chased after them as fast as they could possibly go. It sounded like the tearing of muscle from bone in a feeding frenzy, which is what each of them hungered for. It would happen as soon as they overtook them. They would start with the Humans, for while they were small, and somewhat bony, they were tasty. And they were small-boned and easy to crush whole. Then they would eat the horses. Finally, they would end with the Dwarves. These even the Lizardrulls would not eat unless they had been cooked, which the Trolls would do while the Dwarves were still alive because it was said in Slova that the screams of their captives as they were boiled to death was just what the appetite needed to finish off the feast. They wouldn’t bother to eat the Elf. They were far too bitter even when cooked. Something about Elvin magic made them that way. Bitter as gall.

  Stephanie looked back. Those horrible lizard-looking things seemed to be gaining on them. She called out to Erik to ride faster when, suddenly, Spirit swerved hard to her left to avoid a spear heaved by one of the closest … she looked again … those must be Trolls.

  Erik slowed up a little as the trail ran straight. Stephanie wasn’t about to slow one bit and brought Spirit up alongside Cloud within seconds. “Stephanie,” he yelled out, cupping his hand, “In about 100 yards, jump. Don’t think. Spirit knows what to do. Don’t think. Jump.”

  He shouted out loudly to Cloud, who now raced ahead even faster, seeming to love the excitement. He even did a prance step as he burst forward.

  Stephanie in turn called to Spirit who launched herself forward as eagerly as Cloud.

  Before she could think about it, a giant maw in the land opened before her. It looked as wide as the Grand Canyon, which she remembered visiting when she was younger. It was easily a half-mile wide, and the downward leap was no less. They were doomed. It was over. They could not possibly stop in time, and the race would now end with everybody falling to their deaths; everybody except her. She would survive by using the magic chant. It was so sad. Poor Erik, not to mention these soldiers who had joined them from out of nowhere on this mad dash. All these thoughts raced through her as she braced herself for the final plunge. She gave Spirit her head and began. “I want to go …”

  Suddenly they were silently soaring earthward.

  Out of nowhere, great wings of the thinnest substance had suddenly shot forth from the underbellies of the horses, and their reckless descent was transformed into a long, delightful glide to the base of the canyon. Not that it was enough to make her entirely comfortable with the screams of the Trolls echoing in her head as they all plummeted downward to their deaths. She shivered. “War.” It was all her brain could manage right now. Such an ugly word, it formed itself on her lips and escaped as an inaudible murmur as they drifted downward to the canyon base.

  Upon landing, Erik bounded off Cloud and was at the side of Spirit before Stephanie was even aware. His presence startled her as she shifted her gaze from that which was all around her to that which was directly beside her. He noticed her start and apologized.

  “Oh… no… um… that’s okay,” stammered Stephanie. “It’s just, it’s just that all of this is so strange. Three days ago all I could think about was getting to the mall and buying a new top to wear to the social Friday night and now, in one minute, I’m riding a horse I’ve never ridden in a world that is not my own being chased by… what were those things? ...certain that I am going to die, and the next, I’m magically flying while the things that were chasing us are all hurtling out of the sky to their deaths…” She trailed off, unable to complete the rush and tumble of thoughts that suddenly overwhelmed her, sagging into his arms and falling off Spirit. He eased her to the ground in a sitting position.

  His voice took on a soothing, almost paternal, quality. “It’s, alright,” he murmured quietly in her ear. “I know this must all seem a little, no, a lot overwhelming. Never forget, though, that you can always get out of it. We,” he swept his arm out at those around them, who were busy checking to see that the temporary wings of their mounts had all retracted properly when they set down, and that they were all trail-ready for the next leg, “we can get out of nothing. This is our home. These are our lives, to the ends of them. We have always been, and perhaps always will be, at war with our sworn enemies. We do not relish killing. We kill to survive. We only want to survive. Speaking of which, now we ride. It is a very bad sign that so large a patrol of Trolls has managed to penetrate so deep into our homeland undetected. This is the first I have ever heard of Trolls in such number this close to the Great Wall. I have never heard of such a thing. I need to meet with my father and his second as soon as possible.”

  He stood up, turned away from her, and surveyed their surroundings.

  He turned back to her. As he did, one of his officers approached. “My Lord, My Lady, the underwings have all been checked. They are in perfect order and ready for deployment as needed. We must leave. Now.”

  “Stephanie, may I present Captain Nathran Eldin. Captain Eldin, Stephanie Strong. Stephanie will accompany us to the castle. Do you think we can make it by nightfall? I haven’t ever had to use Running Wolf Cliffs to make an emergency descent. Can we expect the King’s River Trail to be open this time of year?” Stephanie studied the captain. He was clearly a Dwarf. The top of his head only reached her chin. But despite his lack of height, she could see he was extremely well muscled, almost to the point of appearing a little stout. It was hard to describe his face other than to point out that he had an enormous nose that glowed slightly red at the end. But other than that, what she saw regarding him was mostly beard. Thick, and colored auburn, it hung to below his waist. As he shifted his weight, the assortment of weapons he carried rattled slightly, and his leather armor creaked. Looking at him more carefully she noticed his eyes, deep blue, and with a look that seemed to bore right into you.

  “Stephanie, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Not to worry, my young Lord. We will get you and your charge safely to the castle, but not by way of the King’s River Trail. No, no, too open, too exposed. If there was another patrol or two working with those lovely fellows,” he noticed Stephanie’s eyes go wide with fear, “well, that might be a problem. We will proceed to the Hagemore Cliffs, and from there you will have to pay strict attention if ever you are going to travel this way again.” He turned his full attention to Stephanie and gave her a large wink. “My young Lord needs to know a few more things about his own homeland. A few …” He laughed a huge belly-laugh and stepped quickly to his horse, calling for the rest of the squad to mount up.

  Soon they were riding at a swift but controlled canter across a field. There did not seem to be any immediate danger, however they were not wasting any time. At the edge of the field they entered some sparse woods, and the trail became less and less distinct. The woods became more and more dense and soon, despite that fact that it was still early afternoon, Stephanie found herself straining to make out her surroundings because of the darkness. They proceeded at a slow walk for what seemed like hours. Nobody spoke. Nobody coughed. They halted. It was all Stephanie could do to make out the back of Erik, who was only a few feet in front of her. She looked around. They were in the middle of a patch of the largest ferns she had ever seen, the tops of which extended several feet over their heads. There were trees that looked like oak. They were huge. Imposing. They started along again, now at a snail’s pace. The footing seemed to be getting softer and the hooves of their mounts made little sucking noises in the mud. Nobody spoke a word. The ferns started to close in on them, almost as if they wished to show their displeasure at the group’s passing. Were it not for the dampness, it might have actually been pleasant to rub up against these soft monstrosities but, before she knew it, Stephanie was soaked to t
he bone. She found herself shivering at first. Then her teeth began chattering. Everything smelled of damp and rot. Even straining, she could now no longer see anything farther away than Spirit’s ears. So, when Erik was suddenly beside her, she was so surprised she almost lost her seat.

  She recovered quickly, however, and took a small measure of comfort when he told her that in a few minutes they would come to a wall through which they would pass, using codes known only to the royal family and its appointees. Behind the wall they would find shelter, and once inside they would again be warm and dry. “Hang in there,” he concluded. “It’s going to get a lot better soon.” She caught the faintest glimpse of a smile and tried to manage one herself. If only she wasn’t so cold …

  And then the world went insane.

  Trolls, and what she presumed to be Gnomes, surrounded them. Not that she could see much of anything between the gloom and the oppressive ferns pushing in, but she saw enough to know that they were now all but captives. She caught glimpses of Cloud being hauled down by two huge Trolls holding fast to his halter. Then she heard Erik’s cry of warning end abruptly with a sickening thunk as something struck his head. Spirit too was being held as securely.

  “That’s it,” she thought. “I’m outa here.”

  She thought for the briefest of moments how sad it was that she had to abandon Erik and his band of loyal troops. How she would wonder forever how he had made out, if he had lived, what had finally happened. She even added to her own stream of thought how she had never met his father and mother, when she began the words to get her out of this nightmare. She managed to get out one, “I want to go home …” when everything went black.

  Rolan couldn’t sit still. He was finding it extremely difficult to concentrate on the task before him, which was to attempt to figure out a way to get reinforcements and supplies to a contingent of his soldiers that were trapped in the hellhole known as The Gate. A fort, it sat on a narrow strip of land between the Slova River to the east, marking the southwestern border of Slova, the Agden River to the south, and the Pass of Defiance to the west. The Gate was situated in this no man’s land in between the three.