by Peter Plasse
“Yes. I will.”
To the great surprise of each, they found themselves hugging. A Troll nursemaid and a Human doctor, lost for a moment’s time in the passion of an embrace. Sworn enemies, in one magical twinkling they became allies against the wickedness that was the rule of law in the castle and throughout the land.
When they had finished this emotional tribute to the spirit of what is right, the doctor said, “Good. This is very good. We will need a plan. We will need supplies. Weapons, of course. My goodness, I don’t have the faintest idea of how to get out of here.” He found himself talking so fast he could hardly get the words out.
Daria put her finger gently to his lips, looking deep into his eyes.
“Leave all of that to me, Doctor,” she said. “You concentrate on waking this girl up. Without her awake no plan can succeed.”
“Thank you, Daria,” he said. “May the Old One always remember the good thing you have done today.”
She walked back to the bench and picked up her basket.
He sat back down on Stephanie’s sickbed. “Child, forgive me for this,” he said. He raised his hand to slap her again. As it descended toward her face, she caught it, opening her eyes. “That’s okay,” she said, “I’m awake.”
It was a wild ride for the next hour as the three of them fought against the mighty currents and standing waves of the river. Rolan barked commands, and they obeyed. Both Jessica and Blake felt their strength begin to fade, now functioning only on the desperation that comes from either do or die. Fortunately, there were two moons up now, which helped them to see the rocks that tried to sink them at every turn.
They rounded a bend and the waters calmed.
“Rest now,” commanded the King. “I will take it for a while.”
Each slumped in the small craft as they drifted almost lazily down the river.
“Two moons,” mused Blake. “Interesting.”
“You missed the time of three moons,” said Rolan as he scanned the shorelines, looking for signs of the enemy. “It just passed.”
Jessica propped herself up on an elbow. She too kept her eyes glued to the shores. “Why didn’t they come after us?” she asked. “The Trolls in the cavern back there. Why didn’t they use the boats?”
“Too small, for one thing” said Rolan. “Way too small for Trolls. Besides, you’ll never find a Troll in a boat. They can’t swim a stroke, and are deathly afraid of the water. Good thing to know, if they’re ever chasing you. More than once, we Humans have had to swim away from them to safety.”
“Where exactly are we going?” asked Blake.
“We are presently on the King’s River North, moving southwest,” said Rolan. “Its course is interrupted when it empties into Duck Lake, from which it flows outward again on its southern reach. There is some good news in this in that it means we’re going farther and farther from Slova, home of the Trolls. They have recalled much of their fighting force to a place called The Gate, which is the southeastern-most of our settlements. It’s a large, walled fortress and, for as long as I have been alive, our most important source of protection against a Troll invasion from the south. The rest are, as you know, laying siege to the castle. So it’s likely we have seen the last of the Trolls for a while. The bad news is as we head further and further west we get closer and closer to the Gnome nation of Vultura.
“Close to end of the King’s River North is another lake, Canyon Lake. Out of Canyon Lake, the King’s River continues and marks the border of Ravenwild and Vultura.
“Now, to answer your question, we’re trying to get to a mountain called Mount Gothic. It’s the largest mountain in Ravenwild, over fourteen thousand feet, a glacier, really. At about six thousand feet, the glacial cap begins, solid snow and ice. It is at the beginning of this glacial cap where we have a large hideout with enough provisions hidden to support our entire army for a winter. Maybe two. We have never had to use it, but there are troops stationed nearby, and as of the last reports I received not a month ago, it is to this day undiscovered and secure. The Gnomes, you see, are cold-blooded creatures. They could never ascend to that height. They would freeze to death before they made it halfway up. Even in the summer. Another good trick to stay alive: If you’re ever being chased by Gnomes, make your way as fast as possible to the highest, coldest areas and you’ll be safe. In fact, there’s a rhyme that every Ravenwild schoolchild learns. ‘If you feel cold all the way to your bones, know you are safe from those nasty Gnomes.’
“I would feel a lot less confident if the Trolls were still about in large numbers. The cold doesn’t bother them at all. They thrive in it.”
Jessica listened to all this and hung her head in dismay. How their lives had changed in a matter of days. She found herself wishing that this would all just end.
But wishing something doesn’t make it happen.
Blake noticed her posture and put a reassuring hand to her shoulder. “We’ll get her back,” he said softly. “We’ll get her back.”
“I have no doubt,” she returned. “But it doesn’t help that we are headed in the wrong direction and headed that way as fast as possible to avoid capture ourselves.” She shook her head, as if to shake off her fears. She managed a dour smile. He returned it, his no less bleak. “How soon can we expect to get out of this boat and onto shore so we can climb this mountain and hook up with the wizard and be about the business of rescuing our child?”
“We’ll float now for most of the night,” Rolan said, “Due west. In the morning we’ll come to another set of rapids. Bad ones, but not as bad as the ones we already came through. I’ll wake you up to help me before we get there. Once we have passed those there will be another stretch of flat water for the better part of the morning. When we see the next set of rapids, we’ll disembark and proceed north towards Mount Gothic. It’s impossible to miss it. It’s the tallest peak.
It will be to all of our benefit if you two could get some sleep. I will, once we have cleared the next stretch of whitewater. You will wake me up when you hear the next set of rapids after that, and, as I said, we’ll leave the boat and head for Mount Gothic.”
“Sleep,” mused Blake. “Not quite yet. How long a trek is it to the hideout? Do we have any provisions?”
All three had been forced to ditch their packs in the fight with the Trolls.
“Is this river water safe to drink? Are there containers in which to carry water? Waterskins, maybe?”
“From where we land to the hideout at Mount Gothic will take about five days if we push hard. There should be some stores in the bow there.” He pointed to a box-like protrusion in the bow of the small boat. He continued speaking while Blake rummaged through it. “This river water is glacial melt, the purest water of our world. It’s perfectly safe to drink.” Blake held up the waterskins. “Good,” said Rolan. “We’ll fill them before we start up towards the mountain. There will be springs and streams along the way, all glacial melt as well.”
In addition to dried meats, fruit, and flatbread, Blake found a container of fishhooks and some spools of line. He divided these up, giving four hooks and a spool of line to each of them. The container he gave to Jessica. He hooked his four to his sword’s leather sheath. Jessica put the container inside of her jacket. The line he tucked into a pocket. He was glad for the light of the two moons. It made the survey of their meager provisions a lot easier than it would have been to have to search in the dark.
“What if we do get separated?” asked Jessica. “What do we do then?”
“Make your way to the hideout. You will basically climb the mountain, keeping an eye out for Trolls and Gnomes of course. As I have said, once the weather feels cold to you, you will not have to worry about Gnome war parties, but you will always have to watch out for Trolls. When you get close to the hideout, sentries will intercept you. They will either be Human, Elf, or Dwarf. Show them this.” He removed a ring from his left ring finger and held it up to them, saying, “They will know it, and know you go
t it from me.” The stone of the ring was in the shape of the head of a falcon, the official crest of the house of Fairman. He rotated the stone ninety degrees clockwise and released a tiny latch on the ring itself. There was an audible click, and the ring started to hum. In a few seconds, the falcon’s eyes glowed an intense red. Rolan pointed the ring towards the water. A beam of light shot out, and the water hissed in protest. He then reset the latch and rotated the stone back to its original position. “The heat effect is not its intended use,” he said. “It was crafted by the wizard Taber to be activated as I have just done, and pointed towards the sky in case you were out hunting and got lost, or injured, it would serve as a locator beacon. Unfortunately, now that the Trolls and Gnomes have free reign in our land, you would never know who was going to respond.
“Tell them of the situation in Belcourt; that the Trolls have breached the Great Wall. Beyond that …” he drifted off. “Beyond that I have no idea, honestly.”
He handed the ring off to Blake.
“Without meaning to sound callous,” said Jessica, “but I, we, cannot be concerned with your situation here. We only want one thing: To get our child, and yours of course, back and return home. There’s no more to it than that.”
“I understand,” said Rolan.
“In summary,” said Blake, “You will wake us up at the sound of the second set of rapids. We will traverse them and then hit flat water. At the beginning of the third set, we will leave the boat and head towards the tallest peak we see to the north. This hike should take about five days of hard climbing. All the water we see along the way will be potable. The sentries will intercept us, and we will unite with the Queen and the wizard and formulate a plan to rescue the children, which we will implement as our first order of business.” He passed some of the dried meat and fruit to each of the others and they ate in silence for a while.
“That about sums it up,” said Rolan.
“Jess, anything else?” asked Blake.
“Other than Gnomes and Trolls, are there any other dangerous creatures we might run into along the way?”
“There could be bears, and wolves of course,” said Rolan. “But I don’t expect we will see any of those.”
Blake had continued to search the supply box. He found two individual sets of a flint-and-steel, one of which he gave to Rolan and one of which he pocketed.
Each was then left to their own thoughts as they drifted along. Jessica had never taken her eyes off the shoreline. The light of the two moons, while quite bright compared to a full moon on Earth, cast an eerie glow. As they floated by, the open spots between the great trees they passed seemed to hold countless sets of watching eyes, just out of sight, but there. All the more ominous were the shifting shadows, where she imagined all sorts of creatures lying in wait. For the longest time nobody spoke.
After about a half hour, Blake did. “Two things,” he said softly. “One, we need to sleep Jess. We’re going to need our strength come morning. We can’t pretend that we can anticipate all of the dangers we might face tomorrow, but being well rested will clearly serve us better than not. Two, we can’t despair. We need to focus on the solution, not on the problem. We know what the problem is, and it is complex at best, but hasn’t Dad always said, ‘There are no simple solutions to complex problems’? So, we won’t eat the whole elephant at once. We’ll eat him in small bites. For tonight, we sleep. We will wake up in the morning and head for a mountain. That’s it. No more. Good night, Your Majesty. Good night, Jessica.” He kissed his hand and placed it on her forehead. She did the same and each sought a position in which they could drift off in the tiny boat. Within seconds they were asleep.
When they woke up, their small craft had beached itself bow-in-first, the small waves of the river’s currents lapping gently at the stern. Rolan was gone, along with all of their supplies. Oddly, the push-poles were still there, and they had their swords, which each had removed to get some sleep in the crowded conditions. They sheathed them and took a long drink of the ice-cold water, after which they passed some time waiting for the King to return.
After each had done their business in the privacy of some bushes near the boat, they waited some more. While they waited, they searched the area for any signs of a struggle. It was a hard read, what with all of the dried blood from last night’s fight with the Trolls, but they agreed there was nothing to tell them that Rolan had been killed while they slept. At least there was no fresh blood. They then took turns searching for footprints, or any other telltale signs of travel to, or away from, the boat. There were none. They sat and thought for a while.
“What do you make of it?” Jessica finally asked. She kept her voice low. Danger was out there beyond the edge of the river’s scrub, in the midst of the trees. She could feel it. She noticed slight movements, like the passing of shadows in the brush, causing her hairs to all stand on end.
“Hard to say,” said Blake. “It’s the darndest thing. My read of him is that he is a good man and wants to help us get Stephanie back. Who knows? Did he fall asleep and fall off the boat and drown? Probably not, but I don’t think we should hang around here much longer waiting for him. Do you?”
“No I don’t,” said Jessica. “We’re sitting ducks. At least on the river, we’re away from the Trolls. Did he say if the Gnomes use boats?”
“Not that I recall. How much longer should we give it?”
The answer was decided for them as a Gnome scouting party burst forth from the tree line.
“In the boat!” yelled Blake, “I’ll push us off.”
Jessica hopped in and grabbed a push-pole. Blake seized the bow and gave it a mighty shove out into the current. The first Gnome was about to cut him down with his short sword. He raised it to deliver the fatal blow. Jessica had taken it all in, however, and was quicker. Just as he was making his final lunge, she brought up the push-pole and braced it against the transom. It caught him square in the chest, which served not only to keep him out of striking distance, but the force of the impact helped propel them even faster out into the river. There was a loud grunt as he struck the fending stick and the second attacker tripped over him. Blake seized his and polled furiously, the force of his efforts causing it to bend so hard it looked like it would surely snap, but it held, and they were quickly out of reach of the swords. The Gnomes did heave a few crude looking spears in their direction, but they fell far short, sinking harmlessly into the water. They noticed that two of them dove into the river with daggers in their bared teeth, but the leader of the squad called them back. Instead, they raced through the trees, making excellent time, and for a short while kept up with them. Soon, however, the current picked up and they pulled away. Before they rounded the next bend they turned back and watched them stop.
They could hear the roar of the rough water now. It seemed louder than the night before. Much louder.
Once again they fought for their lives as they bounced and lurched along. They took turns poling and bailing out their little craft with their hands. “Try and aim for the far side!” Blake yelled. “That’s the side we need to be on.” Jessica nodded, and together they slowly moved the boat towards the northern shore. It was all they could do to keep from going under. Each knew if that happened they were doomed. They wouldn’t last five minutes before hypothermia made the river their final home. Eventually, however, they began to tire and still the waters would not calm. Up and down they went, shooting into dark holes and popping back out, their eyes wide with terror.
They somehow made it most of the way across when the bow snagged on a large boulder and threw them both like sticks of wood into the water’s fury. “Swim, Jessica! Swim!” screamed Blake. He saw her go under. “Her sword,” he thought, “It’s dragging her down.” He tried as hard as he could to swim in her direction, but the river would not have it. It took him where it would, and the last thing he saw was her disappearing around the next bend. Miraculously, he was deposited roughly on the shore as the river spat him out. Frenzied, he sc
rambled onto the riverbank and fought his way through the scrub and into the trees. As luck would have it, there was a well-worn trail running beside the river, and he raced along it. His lungs felt like they would burst any second as he pulled for all the air he could get. He rounded the bend and caught a glimpse of her, face down in the water by the riverbank. With a final burst of speed, he again tore his way through the bushes and to her side, ripping her from the water. Turning her over, he noticed she wasn’t breathing. He checked for a pulse. She had one. It was faint, but it was there. He delivered the rescue breaths he had so many times delivered in his years of service in the ER. It worked. She vomited up a massive quantity of water and began to breathe on her own, but did not wake up. He rolled her on her side and hurriedly stripped off her wet clothes. Then he tore his off and lay down, holding her close to him, spooning to transfer to her his body heat. It was all that he could think to do. He had treated dozens of people with hypothermia and knew far too well that it could be lethal. She was so cold. “Come on now,” he said, “Wake up now. I won’t let you die here. You can’t die here.”
