by Peter Plasse
He reached a sharp bend in the trail and peered carefully around the edge of it.
A huge hand suddenly clamped itself around his neck and picked him straight up.
He found himself face to face with what he presumed must be a Troll and getting choked to death all at once!
“Well, well, what have we here? A puny Human boy. My, but what a nice snack he will make for me in the morning.”
Orie kicked and struggled, but there was no way he could break free of the huge creature’s grasp. He began to lose consciousness, the light fading to a terrifying blend of darkness and spots, accompanied by a strange prickly sensation in his neck and back. His last thought before he blacked out was one of regret that he had not been able to warn Ryan and Grace of the danger. He had failed them, and they would die because of it.
The Troll noticed he had become limp and dumped him unceremoniously on the ground, then went back to the chore of setting up his camp, which is what he had been doing when he heard Orie sneaking up the trail. Orie landed with a blend of splat and rattle all in a heap and remained stationary for several minutes. When he came to, opening his eyes, he was confused for several seconds … then suddenly remembered where he was and what he was about. The Troll noticed he was awake and approached him. Orie could see that he was blocking the way back down the trail, and he knew he would have no chance of getting around him. He thought about unsheathing his sword but, in light of the Troll's immense size, gave up any hope of possibly coming out on top in a fight.
He waited, scrambling back a little.
“Whoa there, little fellow,” the Troll said, “Now where do you think you are going?”
He reached down and pulled Orie’s sword from its scabbard, which he had to do quite carefully, being as his hands were so large. “Now what could you possibly intend to do with this little toothpick of a sword?” he asked. “Surely you don’t intend to use it in battle. Maybe against the Gnomes, but not against a Troll.” He laughed loudly for a long time. Surely Ryan and Grace would hear that and come to his aid. Curiously, he handed it back to him.
“What is your name, little one?”
“Orie Alexander Strong,” he said. “Might I ask yours?”
“You might,” he answered, “but there is no guarantee that I would tell you.” He roared again, clearly amused with himself. This time he laughed until his eyes watered, great tears running down over his cheeks. Orie carefully adjusted his position while the huge Troll guffawed himself to silence. He wanted to be able to dart by him when the opportunity presented itself.
“My name is Forrester, Forrester Wiley Ragamund. Thank you for asking. Good manners. Good manners are never in bad form, you know.”
“That’s amazing. My mother says that all the time,” said Orie.
“Well she is right,” said Forrester Ragamund. “And you would do well to listen to her. Now, where is it you are going? You are far away from your home, Orie Alexander Strong. By the way, that is a wonderful name. I like it. Yes, I definitely like it. Where was I? Oh yes, where is it you are going? Do you know that this trail leads deep into Slova? That’s where the Trolls live. You do know this? You do know you are in Slova, right?”
“Yes. I do,” Orie offered, cautiously.
“Then what are you, some sort of spy or something? No way. First of all, you’re not old enough. Then again, I hear we have nearly wiped out the Humans, so maybe you are old enough. Say, where’s your horse, anyway?”
“Who said I had a horse? Anyway, what are you doing here Forrester Ragamund? By the way, I like your name too. It’s a good name.”
“What are you, trying to butter me up? I’m the one that should be buttering you up, seeing that I am going to eat you for breakfast.” He laughed again, but not as long this time.
He noticed that Orie got extremely pale and said, “Oh. Don’t worry Orie Alexander Strong. I won’t eat you. I’m not that kind of Troll. I’m not like the others … ” He looked sad. If, that is, a Troll can be said to be capable of looking sad.
“What do you mean?” asked Orie.
“Well, it’s a long story,” he said, “Why don’t you invite your two friends to join us, and I will tell it to you all at once. Then I won’t have to tell it again and again.” He laughed again.
“Do you promise you won’t eat us?” asked Orie, “Or harm us in any way?”
“I do,” said Forrester. “By the way, I could smell it on you.”
“Smell what?”
“Why, the horse of course.”
“Oh. Yes. Ryan, Gracie, come on!” called Orie. “It’s okay. I think we may have had a huge stroke of good luck.”
Ryan and Grace strode into the clearing where Orie was now kneeling on one knee in front of Forrester, who had seated himself on a large fallen tree. Ryan had his sword drawn, Gracie, an arrow nocked in her longbow.
“Put those away,” said Orie, “please.”
“Good manners,” said Forrester.
“Yes,” said Orie, standing up. “Good manners.” He smiled up at Forrester Ragamund, who smiled back. If, that is, a Troll can be said to be capable of smiling.
Ryan sheathed his sword, and he and Gracie warily approached Orie and the giant creature.
“Forrester Ragamund,” said Orie, “may I present Ryan Brahm and Grace Hubbard. Ryan, Grace, Forrester Wiley Ragamund.”
Jacqueline knew that something was wrong before it declared itself by the way Cinnamon was acting. The feline kept bumping Jacq’s head with her own, to which Jacqueline responded by saying, “Quit it!” several times before she realized that Cinnamon was trying to tell her something important. She looked at the clock - 2:30 in the morning. She sat up, let out a soft groan, and rubbed her eyes. Cinnamon took advantage of the fact that she had her awake and launched herself at Jacqueline’s torso, using it as a springboard off of which she redirected herself silently to the carpet at the side of the small bed. Then she turned and took four or five deliberate steps towards the door that was closed, after which she turned and faced Jacqueline directly with an unblinking, eyes-wide-open, stare. Again she turned, taking two more exaggerated steps, and turned back to face her.
Jacqueline understood and eased out of the bed, opening the door quietly and following her down the short hall. They could hear Uncle Eddie snoring softly, but when she peeked in the bedroom, Tanta Kendra was not there. They exchanged a brief, meaningful look, and Cinnamon walked to the head of the stairs where she waited for her. Together, they descended them without a sound. To her dismay, the very last stair let out a soft creak as it accepted her weight, but after a short pause nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so they continued towards the kitchen. Peering cautiously around the doorway, she saw the reason for Cinnamon’s obvious distress: Tanta Kendra, sitting at the kitchen table and staring straight ahead in their direction. Her eyes were definitely open, but her facial expression was a complete blank, and her mouth hung open slightly. Beside her stood Hemlock, his back to them. In his right hand he held what looked like some sort of electronic probe that he kept passing over her head, moving it from side to side with each pass. On the table sat what looked like a small monitor to which his eyes were fixed. He mumbled something to himself over and over; strange words that Jacqueline could not make out. She noticed he was dressed in normal clothes and not his wizard robe.
Bold as could be, Jacqueline marched into the kitchen and pushed him roughly on the small of the back, almost knocking the device out of his hand. “Hey! What are you doing to my Tanta Kendra?” she demanded.
He was clearly startled, but regained his composure quickly, saying, “Hello, Jacqueline. I am fixing her. Much like your dad might fix a patient in the Emergency Room. My enemy, and your enemy I might add, has gotten to her and made her mind very sick. I was merely undoing the damage she has sustained. I know you love your Tanta, and I also know you don’t trust me, but right now you have to. You don’t want her to die, do you?”
Now Jacqueline didn’t know what to d
o. She clearly didn’t want her Tanta to die, but something didn’t sit right with this whole thing, and she had never trusted him. She looked down at Cinnamon who looked right back at her. Suddenly, she leaped up on the table and crossed it with a few bold steps, only to lean forward and bare her teeth with a menacing hiss. That did it for Jacqueline, who turned and ran up the stairs, yelling “Uncle Eddie, Uncle Eddie! Wake up. Wake up. There’s a man in the kitchen, and he’s hurting Tanta! Uncle Eddie, wake up!”
In a matter of moments Uncle Eddie and Jacqueline raced back down the stairs where they found Tanta Kendra still sitting at the table, distractedly dunking a tea bag up and down in a cup of water. She had the same blank appearance to her face that Jacqueline had observed before sounding the alarm.
Hemlock was nowhere in sight.
“Kendra, are you all right?” asked Eddie, appearing troubled at the vacant expression on her face.
She looked at him, then at Jacqueline. For another moment she seemed confused, but her look quickly changed to one of recognition. She laid the string from the teabag alongside of the cup and said, “I’m fine. Why? I couldn’t sleep so I got up to have a cup of tea. I can’t help thinking about Blake and Jessica.” She glanced at Jacqueline. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I’m sure everything is going to be all right.”
“Tanta,” Jacqueline pleaded, “Don’t you remember that man being here a minute ago? He had you in some sort of trance or something.”
“What man? Jacqueline, what are you talking about?”
Jacqueline looked at Eddie, then Kendra, then Cinnamon. She didn’t know what to say.
“You must have had a bad dream Jacq’,” Kendra finally said. “Come on now, let’s all get back to bed. Uncle Eddie has to work in the morning.”
She turned, walked down the short hall, and started up the stairs, Eddie following her and Jacqueline following him. Cinnamon jumped up on the table and meowed loudly. Jacqueline turned and watched as Cinnamon positioned herself alongside Kendra’s teacup and rubbed up against it for her entire length, including her tail.
Jacqueline walked quietly back and asked softly, “What is it girl? What are you trying to tell me?”
Again Cinnamon rubbed against the cup.
She stuck her finger in the water. It was cold.
The next morning, Jacqueline was up at 7:30, which was unusual because she usually slept in on the weekends. Uncle Eddie had already left for work, but Tanta Kendra had the day off and came downstairs to find Jacqueline eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes with Cinnamon purring contentedly on her lap.
“Good morning, Jacq’,” she said.
“Good morning, Tanta. Are you feeling okay?”
Kendra, about the chore of making a pot of coffee, suddenly put it on the countertop and sat down at the table with her. She raised her eyebrows in response to this abrupt interruption of her Tanta’s simple task.
“You know, Jacq’,” she said, “I’m not sure that I am. I had the strangest dream. Added to the fact that I have no idea where your mother and father are, or Orie, or Stephanie, and I believe you know more than you are telling me … No, darling, I’m not sure if I am okay. Are your mother and father fighting?”
“No.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“No.”
“Do you know where Orie and Stephanie are?”
“Uh-uh.”
The only sound that could be heard for the next few seconds was the soft hum of the overhead fan. Kendra stood and filled the coffee pot. Jacqueline watched her intently as did Cinnamon. Kendra noticed the ultra-serious looks of both and laughed.
“What?” she asked. “Look at you two. You would think you had never seen me make coffee before.”
For the next few minutes neither spoke. Kendra, of course, knew that there was something very serious going on, and while she did not want to pry, or cause Jacqueline any additional hurt in case her sister and brother-in-law were separating, she felt she needed more information in case there was anything she could do to help. For Jacq’ to not know where anybody was, was very, very disconcerting.
“I have to go upstairs and get dressed,” she said. “Will you guys be okay until I get back?”
Jacqueline shrugged. “Sure, Tanta.”
She headed up the stairs. Jacqueline picked up the phone and dialed Mark’s number. Luckily, he answered.
“Mark,” she said, “This is Jacqueline. Come get me. Now.”
“Now how am I going to do that?” he asked.
“Take your Mom’s car,” she said.
“I can’t do that,” he said. “My Mom would kill me.”
“Orie would do it,” she said, hoping that she could wheedle him into action. “That Hemlock guy was here last night, and it looked like he was scanning Tanta Kendra’s brain or something. She doesn’t even remember it. I have to get away from here, and then she and Uncle Eddie will be safe. Meet me at the ball field down the street in one hour. You remember where it is, don’t you?”
“Duh!” he said. “Orie threw me two touchdown passes there last year.”
“Whatever,” said Jacqueline, rolling her eyes. “Be there. One hour. Be there.” She hung up.
Chapter 12
“Have you managed to speak to your brother yet?” asked the doctor.
He and Daria were seated on benches in the anteroom, where those that needed medical attention normally waited to be seen. Stephanie was in the next room over.
Daria’s brother, Maxilius Bravarus, was a decorated veteran in the Troll army, having risen from the lowly rank of stable boy to that of Field Commander after a lifetime spent in service to his Emperor and the nation of Slova.
It was a simple question, yet it was laden with implications of an order of magnitude that made the doctor’s mind essentially stop working as soon as he asked it. He held his breath and waited for her response. He sighed audibly when her smile told him what her words were about to.
“I have,” she said. “He has learned that our Emperor is planning to execute not only the girl, but the Prince of Ravenwild as well, after first making him suffer through the horror of watching her die first. Such is his idea of a surprise. Well my brother has planned a little surprise for him, for when the six that are to lead him from the cells to the boiling pots get halfway there, three of these will be on our side of things, four if you count Maxilius, and the ones loyal to the Emperor will never know what hit them. One of the three that are with us will then take the Prince to the entrance that leads to the castle sewers, where he will wait for us. The other two will secure the horses, deliver them to where the Prince awaits, and join up with us as we make our way down to him. It will not be easy, because the word will spread like wildfire that something is awry as soon as it is discovered that the Prince is missing, but hopefully we will be on our way by then.
“Make no mistake about it; we will have to race for our lives all the way across the Slovan Plains to the borderlands and the forests beyond. And they will be chasing us all the way.
“I honestly doubt we will make it, as does Max, but I know this: we will try, and our fate will be decided by the Old One.”
The doctor looked at her, his face reflecting the love and admiration he felt for this young Troll woman. He nodded.
“Come then,” he said softly, “It is time to tell the girl.”
They walked into the next room where Stephanie stood waiting.
“Well then,” the doctor said, putting on a cheerful smile, “have you decided on a name? We need to call you something then, now don’t we.”
“No. I haven’t. It’s the strangest thing. There are times when I seem to be right on the brink of remembering who I am, then it escapes me.”
“Perfectly normal,” said the doctor. “Well, how about we call you Doreen? That was my mother’s name.”
Stephanie scrunched up her face as though she had taken a large bite out of a very sour pickle. “That's odd,” she said, “I seem to remember that name. It’s a
lmost like it was my name. Hmmm.”
“Was it your name?” asked the doctor. “It very well might have been. Think now. Try hard, girl.”
Stephanie tried as hard as she could to think, to remember, but there was nothing, just a blank, except for meeting Erik and their capture. That was as far back as her thoughts would take her.
“Doctor,” said Daria, “I know this is important, but we have to cut it short. The guards will be having their supper now, and we have to prepare for our escape. I have begged some silver from the kitchen help, and we need to divide it into equal portions in case some of us … don’t make it. We also need to locate waterskins and fill them. We have none here in the infirmary. Can you get us some? We will need eight, two for each of us.”
“Ten,” came a voice from the hall outside the anteroom. “And not to worry. I have brought them, and they are full. Not to mention a little gold of my own.”
Maxilius Bravarus strode in. He was large even for a Troll, easily over eight feet tall. He grasped the doctor’s outstretched hand in his own. The doctor’s was completely lost in that of Daria’s brother.
“Maxilius,” cried Daria, “Why are you here? Is it safe? Did anyone see you come down here?”
“Easy, good sister. None of the lumps that call themselves palace guards saw me come, and even had they, I am on official business per order of the Emperor himself. Have you forgotten who your brother is?” He took his younger sister in a fond embrace and lifted her off the floor. “Have you gotten together what we will need?”
“Well,” said Daria, looking at the floor.
“I thought not,” he said. “Fortunately, I have been on a few deployments in twenty plus years in His Majesty’s army, and know a little about supply issues. Don’t worry. The horses will be outfitted with everything we will need for two days of hard travel. After that,” he patted the sturdy blade that hung from his belt, “we will have to do a little providing for ourselves. But you should bring whatever weapons you are used to, Doctor. You will need some. I would suggest a broadsword and long knives at the very least. There will be a crossbow and bolts strapped to your horse.”
