Ollie must have been too sore for banter because he simply said, “From what I heard at dinner you gave your share of bruises too.”
Tjaden deflected the compliment. “You should’ve seen that kid from T’lai. Chism. Have you seen how precise he is in the mess hall? He fights exactly the same way. Every strike, thrust, and parry is precise. He’s half as strong as the rest of us, but hardly anyone could touch him.”
“You gotta watch us little guys,” said Ollie. “Skill simply surpasses size.”
Chism wasn’t the only one to bruise him. Among the recruits, Tjaden’s skills were average at best.
They dressed, each of them moaning as new sore muscles were discovered, and walked to the mess. Breakfast was buttered oatmeal and orange slices. A few of the recruits were excited at the novelty, but Tjaden and Ollie just chuckled.
After eating, the recruits made their way as a group to their classroom. Every day started with instruction on history, tactics, geography, or leadership. The room was unadorned and contained a wooden chair for each recruit with three more chairs and a low podium at the front of the classroom.
By the time Lieutenant Markin entered, they all waited rigidly behind their chairs. Noticing Captain Darieus trailing the lieutenant, every recruit attempted to straighten even further. They never suspected the captain would be instructing them.
“Sit,” said Lieutenant Markin.
They rushed to take their seats and Captain Darieus approached the podium, his stare immobilizing them. Tjaden exhaled in anticipation, and it sounded as loud as a whirlwind. Self-conscious of the noise, he held his breath and the silence returned.
Captain Darieus spoke in an even, restrained voice:
“A soldier’s life is fraught with peril;
Viscera, scalp, tendon and bone.
Targus wizened, lions feral;
Gryphon in packs or alone.
Yea, heed my words, for ‘pon the land
Roam beast and bird, you yet shall find,
More dang’rous fiends than fellowman
That feed on humankind.”
Captain Darieus’ eyes were focused as he scanned the room and his voice gained intensity. In a tone as sincere as death he continued.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my sons
With jaws that bite and claws that catch;
Beware the Jubjub bird and shun
The frumious bandersnatch.”
Tjaden felt Captain Darieus was speaking directly to him. Here was a man who had not only seen, but conquered almost every feared entity in the kingdom, whether man or beast. For two decades he had led the king’s forces, and captained the corps of Elites. The direct warning sank into Tjaden’s core.
The dramatic portion of his speech completed, Captain Darieus continued to instruct the new recruits on the history of Maravilla over the last fifty years with special emphasis placed on the twenty years since the Elites had been organized. The class sat enraptured by accounts of bravery.
Anselm the Intrepid, who stole into an enemy’s keep, lowered the drawbridge, and disabled the mechanism so it couldn’t be raised. His fellow fighters entered and took the fort, but Anselm died in the raid.
Captain Hunbold, captured in battle and tortured over five months. Not only did he withhold information through the agonizing months, but overcame his captors during a moment of lax security. He left a dozen dead guards in the wake of his escape.
Ulibear the Unflinching, Gralfax Ironneck, Poatric the Vigorous. Each account surpassed the prior.
‘Captain Darieus’ could be uttered in the same breath as any of those, thought Tjaden.
Standing nobly in front of the recruits, Captain Darieus said, “Upon completing your training, your true test will begin. Will you rise to the level of the task that faces you? Will future recruits hear your name and keep it in awe after being told of your deeds? It’s possible to live forever through the memories of your accomplishments.
“But one tale remains to be told. In a week’s time I will return to detail my encounter with and slaughter of a Jabberwocky.”
At the mention of the monster, the recruits’ restraint faltered and low murmurs filled the room. Shocked expressions registered on every face. Tjaden had always assumed there was only one Jabberwocky.
“Oh yes. The Jabberwocky can be killed and it was not always alone. I personally led the assault that claimed the life of the vile creature’s mate.”
The recruits’ eyes grew even wider.
“Such is the legacy that you have inherited. Now I ask, are you worthy to embrace such a heritage?”
Half of the recruits, including Tjaden, shouted, “Yes, Sir!”
“Will your courage match that of Anselm, Hunbold, Ulibear and Poatric?”
All of the recruits answered in unison. “Yes, Sir!”
Captain Darieus nodded. “Such deeds are required of those who wear the Circle and the Sword. Each of you at one point in your training will question your own dedication. You will doubt yourself, and wonder if the life of an Elite is right for you. But I want you to remember how you feel at this moment. I promise you the sacrifice will be worth it in the end.”
Having sufficiently impressed the recruits, Captain Darieus strode from the room with forty two sets of eyes staring after him.
The rest of the morning passed according to the planned schedule. Another hour of classroom instruction was followed by a grueling physical workout on the training grounds.
The next morning, somehow even sorer than the previous day, they sat in the classroom focusing on Lieutenant Markin’s discourse on the history of weaponry. Captain Darieus had surprised them even more than the previous day by attending the class as an observer. The lieutenant had just started speaking when an Elite rushed into the room in full riding gear. The man was dusty, out of breath, and intent on locating Captain Darieus. Markin paused as the soldier scanned the room.
After saluting formally the soldier spoke. “Captain Darieus, Sir. An urgent message.” The Elite followed the captain out.
Tjaden wondered what matter would arrive with such immediacy. Has war broken out? Are the Elites required for an assignment?
He bemoaned the fourteen months he’d spend in training instead of completing missions and soldiering. Though Lieutenant Markin continued his lecture, the recruits shifted in their seats and glanced frequently at the door. When Captain Darieus re-entered he bore a pained expression.
Without excusing himself to Lieutenant Markin he ordered, “Tjaden, Ollie. A word.”
Tjaden instantly thought of Elora and his father. It had been less than twenty-four hours since they left the city. What could have happened? They’ve only been on the road for a day, at most. Maybe it has nothing to do with them and I’ve done something wrong. Hundreds of possibilities flooded his head as he hurried after Captain Darieus.
Once outside he didn’t make them wait. “I have unfortunate news. The company of Elites escorting Elora and your father to Shey’s Orchard was attacked last night. Just after nightfall they were beset upon by the Jabberwocky.” Tjaden’s knees went weak as Captain Darieus continued. “Your father and Aker were both knocked unconscious, but they will be fine.”
“And Elora?” Tjaden blurted in the brief pause.
“Unfortunately the contingent of soldiers that was sent to protect them was insufficient to withstand the beast. The camp was ravaged, and soldiers were killed. And…” The pause told Tjaden that Elora had not fared as well as the men. “And Elora was abducted.”
Tjaden felt as if a sword had been thrust into his chest and twisted. It was agony worse than any physical pain. He saw Ollie’s hand on his shoulder supporting him against the wall and Captain Darieus standing in front of him. His gut turned sour and he thought he might lose his breakfast.
“Why...How…Where?...” he stammered as he struggled to come up with a plan of action.
“You’ve heard the reports that the Jabberwocky targets maidens. She was the only one in the party tha
t was abducted. With nearly every attack it carries off one or two unfortunate lasses.” He paused. When Tjaden failed to respond, Captain Darieus continued, “It is a tragic loss, Tjaden. Elora was as fine a young lady as I have ever met. The kingdom mourns with you.”
Tjaden didn’t bother with tears; decision and action were required. “I’m going after her.” He started planning the expedition—search for the Jabberwocky, fight it, and kill it.
“I’m going,” Tjaden stated. “I’ve got to save her. I…I…” He still had trouble forming his emotions into words. Thoughts of rescuing Elora raced through his head.
“I’m going with you,” Ollie said.
Tjaden barely noticed.
Captain Darieus didn’t acknowledge Ollie either. He said to Tjaden, “I don’t doubt your courage in the slightest, and I know you’re willing to single-handedly confront the Jabberwocky. However, you would be dead before you had a chance to unsheathe your sword. There are alternatives that afford you at least a small chance of survival.”
Tjaden shook his head at Captain Darieus’ words. “You said you killed one. You said you killed a Jabberwocky? How’d you do it? You have to tell me.”
“Do not forget your place, Tjaden,” Captain Darieus cautioned in an unflinching tone. “I’m offering to help you, but remember that you are a recruit with less than two days of training. Listen to me—pay close attention.”
“Yes, Sir,” Tjaden replied, partially returning to the moment. “How can the Jabberwocky be killed?” After a short pause he added, “Sir.”
“I can teach you. I’ve spent two decades puzzling it out, and I have the means. But it will require trust on your part.”
“Anything, Captain. I’ll do anything.”
“First, you need to commit to two weeks of specialized training before you rush off—”
“Two weeks! I can’t wait two weeks, I need to—”
“Recruit!” Captain Darieus spoke firmly, and Tjaden immediately stopped protesting. “Elora may already be dead. However, if she survived the first day, she will most likely survive a month. We don’t know the Jabberwocky’s motive for abducting maidens, but we do know that the unlucky ones sometimes survive months in captivity.”
Tjaden felt even sicker at the thought of already being too late. That’s not even a possibility, he told himself. Elora’s alive. The words did little to soothe him, and he had to concentrate to keep from running to find her.
Captain Darieus’ gaze now took in both Tjaden and Ollie. “Continue to attend your morning classes and exercises, but in the afternoons I will personally train and teach you the secret of the vorpal blade and the other keys to defeating the Jabberwocky. There is no foe more manxome anywhere in the world.” He placed a strong hand on Tjaden’s shoulder. “Lucky for us there is no man as determined as you.”
Tjaden hesitated. Studying out problems and using unconventional means to overcome them was not his way. Sword-swinging, straight-forward action always worked better. He hated to leave Elora in the creature’s power for even one more breath. But his failures against the bandersnatch and in the tournament made him wonder if there was a better approach. After all, this was a battle he could not lose. Walking straight into the Jabberwocky’s gaping jaws would not accomplish anything.
Ollie spoke up. “Tjaden, there’s no other way. It’s suicide to go after the Jabberwocky without training.”
But what about Elora? How could he just leave her there to suffer? Tjaden looked between Captain Darieus and Ollie. He hated to depend on someone else and endanger his best friend at the same time. But simply wanting to kill the Jabberwocky wouldn’t guarantee success.
Ollie nodded encouragingly and Tjaden knew what he had to do.
For the first time he could remember, he was unable to control his emotions. Anger, fear, and anticipation welled in him, filling his eyes with tears. The tears flowed over, but he didn’t care. Only one thing mattered—he had to find Elora.
In a broken voice he said, “Alright. We go in two weeks.”
Part III
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.
Elora studied the strange diagram on the ground next to the spot where she had awakened, still attempting to clear the fog from her mind. She should be able to make sense out of the scrapings in the dirt. It reminded her of a wheel. Protruding from the center was a tall wooden stake with a dark blue bandana attached to it. A small branch stuck out of the ground not far from the center, close to one of the spokes of the wheel. The diagram was large and had been carefully etched deep into the dirt. If she stretched she could reach from one side to the other.
No matter how hard she focused, the surroundings were unfamiliar and she had no idea how she had arrived. She blinked and shook her head, but still felt befuddled. Studying the strange clearing around her didn’t help. The woods surrounding her were as thick as a wall, and in the center of the clearing was the largest tree she’d ever seen. It was as big around as a house, and three times taller than any other tree in the forest.
Where am I? How did I get here?
Elora remembered traveling with an Elite escort toward Shey’s Orchard. They made camp, ate dinner. And then… She couldn’t remember. Did I feel sleepy after dinner? The image of a tent came to mind, but it might be from the trip to Palassiren. Her father and Mikel were in the camp with her. She ate dinner and…now I’m here.
Where is here?
She didn’t feel like she’d slept. For one thing there were no dreams, only blackness. Struggling to puzzle through the situation made her head throb. It was useless.
Hunger gnawed at her belly. It could have been days since she’d eaten. Weeks. Examining her sore body, she found broad, but minor, bruises, and her muscles felt as if she’d been working them.
It can’t be the same day. It was night when I was in camp. But…how many days have passed? Her confusion and the odd surroundings were beginning to scare her. She had to do something.
The enormous tree stood in the middle of a large clearing, twenty paces from the crowded woods which formed a circle around it. Other than the diagram, there were no signs of humans in the clearing. It was entirely free of life, both animal and plant. At first she saw no roads leading out of the clearing, but after walking around the massive tree she found a small path, just big enough for a horse and rider, leading into the woods. Judging by the sun’s position, the path either led east or west. It would take some time to figure out if the sun was rising or setting.
Apart from its size, the tree itself was nothing special. Being unfamiliar with forest trees, this one resembled many of those she’d seen on the road to Palassiren. It just looked like a tree. A lone, gargantuan leviathan of a tree. The bark was so rough and exaggerated she could climb it if she had to, but the path looked like a better option.
Taking one more glance around she called out. “Father! Mikel!” There was no response. Trying once more at the top of her lungs she called, “Father!” Indistinct forest sounds were the only answer.
The path it is, she thought, and started into the cave-like trail. Having lived her life in an arid climate, forests were foreign to her, but she could tell this one was especially thick. Entwined. Impenetrable. Tulgey.
As she waited in the darkness for her eyes to adjust, faint noises came from the clearing. The trail was sinister enough to convince her to investigate the noise before plunging into the tunnel through the trees. Trying to stay hidden on the path, she peered carefully out but saw nothing. Sure she had heard movement, like an overloaded wagon crossing an old bridge, she warily entered the sunny clearing. Staying close to the outer perimeter, she circled the forest cavity.
The clearing was still empty. Just as she passed the odd diagram in the earth she was overwhelmed by a fetid smell and the sound of a great, rushing wind. As she glanced into the sky she realized how
she had arrived at such a remote location. The Jabberwocky. It was worse than anything she could have imagined.
Turning instantly she scuttled toward the gap in the trees. The ground shook as the Jabberwocky landed clumsily in the clearing and slammed its tail to the earth, blocking her exit like an enormous, writhing snake. Its color was like rotten green beans and its smell was even worse.
Escape through the thick forest wall was impossible; she couldn’t even fit an arm between the crowded trees. She turned to face the beast. It looked on her like a bird discovering a worm in its nest.
Is it really so stupid it doesn’t remember bringing me here?
The Jabberwocky moved its head toward her, making her sway with its forceful, rancid breaths. It was every bit as manxome as the stories described it. Nothing seemed to make sense with the monster. Most of its appendages were scaly and twisty, but its trunk was solid and covered with leather-like skin. Its head was large and roundish, like a squat egg. The heavy-lidded eyes glowed with a dull fire as its head bobbed on an elongated neck to examine her from different angles. Sweat from its face mixed with saliva on its teeth and dripped to the earth.
Her bowels threatened to empty and she was sure her stomach would lose its gorge if she had eaten anything. Staring at the sweaty-tooth monster she told herself, I’ve survived before and I’ll live to tell this story as well.
Elora looked around for a weapon or other means of escape. She was too far from the tree to climb, but the stake in the center of the diagram was within arm’s reach. It took effort, but she wrenched it from the ground. Holding the staff in front of her, she tried to look menacing. The dark blue bandana hung limply from the end of her staff.
The bandersnatch bled when I hit it, but I don’t know if this thing will even notice. But she still wasn’t ready to give up.
As quick as a viper, the Jabberwocky’s mouth latched onto her weapon and ripped it from her clutches, filling her palms with splinters. Before she could move, it shot a reptilian arm forward and ensnared her in its claws. Its speed was unbelievable. The monster’s scaly fingers ended in claws almost as long as her arm. At first she struggled to free herself, but her movement caused the rigid claws to dig into her. If she pushed too hard they’d slice her open.
Jabberwocky Page 7
