by Peter Plasse
The threesome gathered in close to hear what he had to say. He did not make them wait. “Your sister and her friend, Erik Fairman, Prince of Ravenwild and heir apparent, have this day escaped from the fortress of Malance Venomisis, out from under his very nose. And it was a brilliant getaway, as I heard it told, engineered in no small part by your sister herself, who led the party straight back towards the castle highlands, seemingly into the very hands of that slimy wartpig that had them locked in the dungeons not five days ago, when they took to the air on the backs of their horses and disappeared over the distant horizon on a set of, what should I call them … enchanted wings. Oh would that I could have been there to have seen such a brave escape.”
The young friends were overcome by joy and clapped each other on the back in celebration.
“That means they are safe, right?” asked Orie.
“Certainly for the moment,” returned Forrester. “Unless they happen to come down right on top of a Troll war party, they are small enough in number, four that is, that it will take considerable time, perhaps forever, to find them on the vast Slovan Plains. I was told there were huge headwinds that might yet carry them better than halfway across. Quite fortuitous. The headwinds I mean.”
“What did you mean, ‘When they took to the air on the backs of their horses’?” asked Gracie. “Can some of the horses here fly or something?”
“Not fly, really, but glide. You see, for years, the Elves have known how to fashion a very special attachment that is basically a set of very large, incredibly light, but strong, foldable wings that they fix to the belly of their mounts. What this means is, they can always take to the air as long as they have a convenient cliff off of which they can jump.”
“Amazing,” muttered Gracie.
“Yes, amazing,” added Ryan. Orie nodded in agreement.
“Wait a minute,” said Gracie, “Do we have those things?”
“Underwings,” said Forrester.
“You mean these?” asked Ryan, who had already probed the underbelly of Fury.
“Yes,” said Forrester, “those would be them.”
“Good,” said Orie, “Important technical tip. Of course, you might have told us earlier, but that’s okay. You have a lot on your mind, what with your walking away on your country and all. That has to be bothering you, Forrester.”
Forrester thought a bit and said, yet more softly, “On my country, yes. On my family and friends, never.”
It was midnight and Jacqueline was still up. By a sequence of very fortunate events, Mark had “borrowed” an uncle’s car who had left it in long-term parking while he was away on business. He then had talked his Mom into letting him go with Ryan, Orie, and the Strong family to their Grandmother’s house in Maine. So he had ‘walked over to the Strong's house’ and ‘left with them’. In reality, he had hitchhiked to the airport and commandeered his uncle’s car.
These surprise, impulsive trips were frequent enough among the boys that Mark’s mother never bothered to call Jessica to confirm. “Don’t forget to call when you get there!” were her only words, to which Mark yelled, “I will,” as the back door slammed behind him.
“What is it?” Jacqueline asked Cinnamon, who was seated on her lap and kneading her legs constantly with nervous feet.
Cinnamon turned her head sharply towards the bedroom door when she heard the noise, the softest feet padding across the ancient wooden kitchen floor and then up the stairs to where they had been going to go to sleep. Mark had already drifted off, after dutifully calling home to reassure his mother and father that everything was fine and that they were all going to bed.
“You honestly didn’t think you could ditch me by going to Gram’s, did you?” asked Hemlock in a hushed voice from the head of the stairs.
Cinnamon settled down in Jacqueline’s arms, now that Hemlock had officially announced his presence in the family home. She continued to pat her kitty’s head.
“Not really,” said Jacqueline, “but as long as I got you out of Uncle Eddie and Tanta Kendra’s house, I accomplished what I wanted to accomplish. What was that thing that you were doing to her, anyway?”
“I was merely scanning her brain for recent memory input to determine what, if anything, she knew of the whole Ravenwild business. And undoing any damage that was done to her … ”
“Well then you must know that she doesn’t know anything, so leave her and Uncle Eddie out of this,” interrupted Jacqueline. “If you must know, Hemlock Simpleton, wizard Simpleton, or whoever you really are, I don’t trust you. We already know that you lied to us, pretending to be Dad’s professor from college, and I still have no idea what that was about, but then you tricked Stephanie into going to this place, wherever it is, and then Mom and Dad, and then Orie, Ryan, and Gracie, and now there’s just me, and it’s all pretty upsetting, you know, when you’re only ten.” She turned her back to him and started to silently cry, then stopped herself so he wouldn’t notice.
“I’m sure it’s difficult for you Jacqueline,” said Hemlock, “but your mother, father, Orie, Ryan, Stephanie, and Gracie, are all doing fine and have asked that I come back and get you so that you can join them there.”
“Yeah,” Jacqueline snorted, “and I believe that one too.”
“Jacqueline,” said Hemlock, “You know how it works. You will only get to go to any one place once, and everyone wants you there. Everything is splendid. Right now they are all at the castle waiting for you. If I could have come back with your mother I surely would have, but I do not dictate how the transporter device works, nor can I control in any way its limitations. But, as it turns out, you will be able to bring your kitty. I think it works out quite nicely, don’t you?”
At this point Mark woke up, slowly at first, then he suddenly jumped up and positioned himself protectively in between Hemlock and Jacqueline.
“Wazzup?” he asked.
“Hemlock says that Dad and Mom and everybody are all waiting for me at the castle in Ravenwild, and he wants me to beam there with him right now. You did mean right now, didn’t you?”
“I did.” His voice was silky smooth. It had a lighthearted quality, almost as though he was completely unconcerned if Jacqueline chose to decline his invitation and was going through the formality of inviting her because she was, well, an old and dear friend and therefore deserved it. “Right after we return Mark’s uncle’s car to the airport and drop him off at home. Will that be all right with you, master Mark?”
Mark scratched his head sleepily. “Sure. I guess. I don’t know. Do we need to think about this, Jacqueline?”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Hemlock, in the same smarmy tone of voice, “I’ll go make myself a cup of tea downstairs. You talk it over. You have my word that I won’t listen in. Whatever you decide will be fine. Take as much time as you need.”
He turned and left, and they heard the same soft footsteps retreat down the stairs and proceed across the kitchen floor. The same sounds that Jacqueline had heard moments before.
“I don’t know, Jacq’,” said Mark. “I don’t like it. Sounds like a setup to me. Why don’t you tell him you don’t want to play and to go get everybody and bring them home? How long have your mother and father been gone now?”
“What’s today?” asked Jacqueline, “Monday,” answering her own question. “That means Dad and Mom left day before yesterday. Jeez, Mark, have
you been asleep for this whole thing or what?”
When Mark had no retort, she turned to Cinnamon. “What do you say, girl? Should we go or should we stay?”
It was an incredibly difficult decision for a ten year-old person to make, and in the end it came down to this: Wherever her mother was, that was where she wanted to be. And if she decided to not go, and this Hemlock decided to go away and not come back, she might not see her mother for a really long time. Or... ever, and that wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.
She began to cry again, this time turning her back so that Mark wouldn’t se
e. She missed her mother something terrible, and would have walked to the ends of the earth to be with her again, so she simply said, “I’m going.”
“Jacqueline, you’re nuts,” said Mark. “Think about what you’re doing. You know you can’t trust this guy. Why would you do this?”
Jacqueline thought about answering, then shrugged and repeated, “I’m going.”
It was long after sundown and, for the first time in weeks, truly dark. A thick bank of clouds had moved in, and not a sliver of light from the two moons of Ravenwild’s nighttime sky was getting through.
Jared and Diana peered through the darkness as the band of Gnomes laid torch to his tiny haven in the woods. Diana put a hand to her mouth as the flames crept upwards, licking hungrily at the base of the simple structure, crackling, almost happily it seemed, as their voracious appetite for fuel was sated by the wooden walls of Jared’s home. Within minutes the flames were roaring. In a few more, the entire structure was a smoking mass of ruin.
“Jared,” she whispered, “your books.”
He put his mouth to her ear and whispered back, “Not now. Follow me. Quiet now. These Gnomes have very keen hearing.”
They crept slowly away from the now smoldering cabin towards the lake where Jared had a small boat hidden. He knew enough about Gnomes to know that they, unlike their Troll allies, would not hesitate to follow them on the water had they watercraft of their own, but he also knew that their best chance of slipping away was under the cover of darkness with the silence that a water escape would afford them.
As quietly as they could, they made their way towards the lake. The going was extremely slow, due to the fact that strict silence was more important than speed. They stayed well off of the main trail. Jared knew that, most likely, this would be well guarded by Gnome warriors, so they eased slowly through the thickest bramble and riprap, ever listening for the sounds of danger. The trappings of the forest made way to dense brush, which changed again to bulrushes and cat-o-nine tails, and each knew that they were close to water’s edge. Jared slowly knelt to survey their surroundings. Too late, he spied the Gnome soldier who stood not more than a few feet from them. In his hands was a crossbow, locked and loaded, its deadly bolt pointed squarely at Jared’s chest.
“Did you think I wouldn’t hear you?” he asked. “My goodness, but you might have done a better job of it. All right now, I’m going to need you to put your hands behind your head and turn around slowly. Not a word now. Make a sound and I will have to call the others, and they might not be as kind to you as you will find me. In fact, I am quite sure they would kill you, Sir, although they would definitely not kill the Princess.”
Jared struggled as to what to do. With the dart pointed directly at him, the inevitable lethality of the confrontation was self-evident if he did not do exactly as he was told. Slowly, he put his hands behind his head and turned, making sure he turned in the direction that allowed him to exchange looks with Diana, who also acted in compliance with the orders of their captor. Both were surprised that he had not asked Diana to drop her sword.
“Good,” he said. “My captain will be very pleased with me for capturing you, and not having to harm you. I want you to know that I’m not much for this soldiering business. I’d much rather be on my farm looking after my crops and my animals … ”
Those were his final words on the planet as Silver sprang from hiding and silently tore out his throat.
“My goodness,” whispered Diana. She was surely grateful that this magnificent, intelligent animal had saved them from capture but, at the same time, she felt a sharp sting of remorse that the Gnome soldier, whose heart was not into soldiering, but farming, had to die. It was horrible, horrible beyond belief.
Jared too felt sadness, but knew they had to move quickly beyond it or he, at least, would suffer the same fate.
He took Diana’s hand, and together they crept the remaining distance to the small boat, which they launched, and silently glided away. Fortunately the direction of the wind was in their favor, and soon they were out somewhere near the middle of the lake. Silver had elected to stay behind and patrol for any Gnomes that might venture down towards the shore and spot their tiny craft. Neither spoke. At one point Diana looked as though she might, but Jared, knowing how sound travels for incredible distances over water, gently put his fingers to her lips and shook his head. She nodded in acknowledgment, and they huddled together and made their escape. In a few minutes she was asleep in his arms. “Poor thing,” he thought, and hugged her a little tighter. He was as frightened as he had ever been, and gloomy over the loss of his home and his sacred books, yet at the same time he was somehow filled with wonder at the fact that he held this striking Princess in his arms, and that the two of them were off on an adventure the like of which he had never once thought he would experience in his lifetime. Despite these strange and inconceivable circumstances, he held her tight, letting the wind carry them away from the war party and on to the opposite shore.
It took only an hour to cross, at which point he gently shook his new partner-in-adventure awake, and they made their way ashore. Silver was waiting for them, tail wagging furiously, and they each took turns patting and scratching her massive head. Jared took a quick inventory of their supplies: two waterskins that he had fortunately left in the tiny boat the last time he had used it, two of Diana’s daggers, and one stout knife that he had snatched from the countertop during their hasty departure from the cabin. He passed the waterskins to Diana who, after she had sheathed her broadsword, bent to fill them without being asked. He picked up one of the daggers that had slipped from her boot and nodded his approval. They would be fine. He wished they had flints for starting a fire, but they could pick these up on the way to wherever they were going. He thought for a second. Where were they going anyway? Oh well, somewhere in the general direction of away from where they were now would have to do. So, quickly but quietly, they moved into the embrace of the trees and tried their best to simply blend in.
It was a grueling flight away from the mountaintop from which they had launched. Doreen had a fuzzy memory of the last time she had made a similar descent, being chased by a Troll war party, but she seemed to recall that one had been a long, gentle glide. This time, with the added weight of the doctor and Daria, and the huge winds, it had been a long, drawn-out series of tipsy, jerking, tilting, plummeting bursts that ended with a modified crash onto the flatland. Nonetheless, they were extremely fortunate that the strong headwinds into which they had wildly leapt had afforded them a prolonged, if tumultuous, flight, thereby putting considerable distance between themselves and the Troll forces that were surely after them by now.
“Is everybody all right?” called out Erik as he went about the business of securing the underwings to the bellies of Spirit and Cloud.
When all answered that they were unhurt, Erik ordered them to mount up and off they rode. Doubled up as Doreen and the doctor were, Erik held the horses to a brisk canter, knowing that they had miles and miles to go, and he didn’t want to tire the mounts out too quickly. He knew they were in for a long, punishing ride.
The first hour passed with not a single word spoken, then the second, and the third. They alternated carrying the doctor in order to equally distribute the workload between the horses, while Daria jogged contentedly along behind them. At times she seemed to be humming.
By now the horses were fully lathered, but their breathing was steady, and it appeared for the first time since they had escaped that there might be hope for them to make it to safety after all. There was still no sign of the mountains that marked the border between Slova and Ravenwild, but Erik was confident that they were headed in the right direction. If only the horses could keep up the pace.
He had noticed shortly after landing that no waterskins had been fastened to their mounts. This was less than good.
“Everybody look out for water,” he called out. “The horses will need to drink soon, or we will have to slow them to a walk.�
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“That is so Human,” remarked Daria.
“Say again,” said Erik.
“To tell us to watch for water. Lad, I will smell it long before we see it.”
He managed a wry smile, and on they pushed.
The next hour passed, and another, and they neither smelled nor spied water in any form. The breathing of the horses now began to grow labored, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until it became obvious that they were going to have to slow their pace or their mounts would fail. Erik reined in Cloud and Doreen did the same. The doctor jumped off, as did Erik and Doreen.
“Perhaps you might carry me,” he joked to Daria.
She smiled broadly, replying, “You would like that, wouldn’t you.”
Since Doreen couldn’t come up with any words that seemed to fit, she held her tongue.
They walked for another uneventful hour when the doctor called out, “Look, it’s getting green. There must be water up ahead.”
Daria sniffed at the air and nodded.
“That would probably be the Oakes River,” offered Erik. “Hopefully, because it will mean we are over halfway to the border.”
He mounted up and waved the doctor up behind him. Doreen mounted up as well. Daria jogged effortlessly along behind them as they moved at a slow canter through the thickening vegetation.
Soon, the smell of water was obvious to all, and Erik reined Cloud into a walk. Stephanie followed suit. The horses became edgy, wanting to bolt for it. Hour after hour of hard running had given them an enormous thirst, and the need to quench it burned inside them hot as a flame. They pranced and twisted all about, and although they were highly intelligent animals who knew better than to rush recklessly into any place in enemy territory, they nevertheless were invigorated with excitement in the anticipation of a long and satisfying drink. Their enthusiasm was palpable and caused Erik to grin. He looked at Doreen, who wore the face of a battle-hardened soldier, and said, “Water. Straight ahead. Oakes River. I would bet your life on it.” He was trying to make a small joke. Doreen saw no humor it in it whatsoever.
