by Robert Evert
Edmund looked westward. Wisps of smoke rose up from somebody’s chimney in Rood.
Why not stop this foolishness and head back home? You’ve had your fun. Go back and sit in a nice hot bath. This is going to end badly for you if you keep going.
“Come on, Thorax,” Edmund said with an effort. “Let’s see if we can make it to those woods by nightfall.”
Chapter Six
“Okay! Okay!” Edmund dragged his saturated sleeve across his purple forehead. “I know . . . I’ve . . . I’ve said it b-b-b-before, but . . . I swear . . . it’s right . . . around . . . this . . . next . . . hill. Trust me!”
Baring her teeth, Thorax glared at Edmund’s rear, but continued to plod along after her partner.
It had been nearly three weeks since Edmund had left Rood, and they still hadn’t found the tower in which Edmund claimed the Star of Iliandor was hidden. Of course, the delay wasn’t entirely his fault. If the weather was hot before, it was beyond miserable now. In the narrow valley through which they were walking, the thick air was heavy with humidity, and as still as a rotting corpse. Even breathing was laborious. If not for the cool water of the River Celerin near at hand, they would have lain down and died.
“Come on, girl,” Edmund said, not for the first time. “If we could just . . . get . . . up . . . this . . . slope . . . and . . . around . . . this . . . damned . . . hill—”
A deafening explosion shook the ground. Thorax cowered against Edmund’s legs.
“Oh!” Edmund cried, lifting his sweat-covered arms to the sky. “Oh, thank the gods! Rain. Oh, blessed cold, wet, wonderful . . . rain.”
Thunder pounded the forest-covered hills surrounding them.
They stumbled into a small clearing. Overhead, ash grey clouds were flying past. In the western sky, darkness tumbled toward them. Flashes of lightning stabbed at the hills below. More rumbling shook the ground.
Edmund groaned. “That . . . that looks bad. I can’t predict the weather like my father could, but I bet you, I bet you anything that, that is going to be one nasty storm.”
Now you’ll wish you were home. Just a bunch of walking, eh? Easy as pie?
“We have to find some kind of shelter.” His gaze flitted across the rocky ledges lofting above them. “It has to be high up or we’re done for.”
Thorax’s ears perked, her head cocked to one side.
Edmund broke into a jog, his stomach and backpack bouncing as he hurried northward.
He pointed to the white-capped mountains looming to their right.
“When those clouds hit those peaks, they will drop their moisture . . . all of it at once.”
Thorax examined the mountain peaks, puzzled.
“Flash floods,” Edmund said, pushing northward with renewed vigor.
Thorax trotted after him.
“You, you see those clouds contain a great deal of water, which is going to come down in all directions for at least fifty miles. These hills are mostly stone, granite actually, with little topsoil. They’ll channel all that water to the lowest place possible.” He nodded at the churning current a few feet away. “Which is where we are. In an hour, this river is going to swell to t-t-ten, maybe twenty, times its normal size, and it will rip away anything in its path. Trees, rocks—everything.”
A fat raindrop hit the brim of his sweat-soaked hat.
They quickened their pace.
Another rumbling shook the ground.
More raindrops pelted them.
The tops of trees crowning the hills swayed in the mounting wind, their branches creaking and cracking. Blackness engulfed the valley.
Edmund and Thorax continued to hasten further into the foothills of the mountains, the sheer cliffs rising even higher as they pressed closer to the river. The wind whined as it whipped through the jagged stone formations, and then built to a scream. Rain came at them horizontally now, stinging their skin.
Shielding his face from the onslaught, Edmund pointed up the hill to their left.
“What’s . . . what’s that?” he shouted through the gale. “Is that, is that a shadow or an, an opening? Up there, through the trees. See it?”
Thorax’s gaze shot to where Edmund pointed.
A blanket of rain battered down on top of them.
Lightning exploded, turning the wall of water an eerie shade of blue.
The ground shuddered.
“We have to get out of here,” Edmund hollered, bracing himself against the deluge. “I’m, I’m going to see if it’s a cave.” Grabbing a tree root, he started scrambling up the nearly perpendicular slope. “Stay here!”
Sopping fur plastered against her body, Thorax shook herself and crawled underneath a buckthorn bush.
Black clouds swarmed above them.
Trees reeled and lashed at the rain.
Upriver, a branch as thick as a man’s neck snapped and careened into the white-capped current. Where it hit, a fountain of water heaved up like a searching hand and was swept away in the gusting wind.
Seizing another stone outcropping, Edmund hauled himself higher up the incline, his muscles straining under the weight of his waterlogged backpack. Red lightning blasted overhead, wrenching apart the darkness. Blinded, Edmund flailed, his feet slipping off their perch. He cried out. The wind and rain beat at him, tearing him away from the ledge. He clawed at the stone. Rocks, loosened by his kicking, toppled down the slope, ricocheting off of tree trunks and crashing around Thorax fifty feet below. Bolting from her hiding spot, she retreated to the bank of the swelling river.
With one hand, Edmund clung to an outcropping of granite. Water coursing over his straining fingers threatened to wash away his grip. He fought against the torrent, and threw himself against the hill. In the dimness, his sight gradually returned.
Reaching above his head, his hand found a clump of prickle vines. He grabbed them, their tiny thorns slicing into his skin as he pulled himself upward. Blood mingled with the rain flowing down his arms.
White lightning cracked. The valley shook.
Somebody laughed.
Edmund looked up.
A silhouette of a hunched figure with an enormous head peered down at him. Lightning exploded, revealing the creature’s grotesque face and giant eyes bulging with delight. Reaching its treelike arms over the ledge toward Edmund, he laughed again.
“Don’t like the rain?” it called through the howling wind. “Then by all means, come and join me.”
Troll!
Raising his hands to ward off the troll’s grasp, Edmund let go of his holds and plummeted down the incline, his body bouncing off the hillside. More rocks and debris cascaded around the scurrying Thorax.
“Run!” Edmund screamed as he careened off tree trunks and rock outcroppings. “Run, Thorax! Run! Troll!”
“Run! Troll!” the creature mocked. “Run my plump little fellow. Run,” he hooted.
Bruised and bleeding, Edmund tumbled down the hill, landing head first in the surging river. He got to his battered knees, water racing over and under him, blood dripping from his face and hands. Thorax licked his cheek.
“Run!” he shouted through the storm, pointing back the way they had come. “Go! Save yourself.” Edmund began hobbling northward, stabs of pain wracking his body.
More laughter.
“Run!” the troll said from a ridge towering above the valley floor. “Run!”
A red explosion split the sky. The hills quaked. Blankets of rain smothered Edmund with increasing intensity.
Drop the backpack! Get rid of it!
No, I need my gear!
It’s slowing you down! Get rid of—
“Run!” The troll’s laugh reverberated through the black forest. It was getting closer.
Looking down, Edmund found Thorax still next to him.
“You’ve got to run.” He pointed downriver. “Run in the opposite direction. He can’t, he can’t go for both of us. Save yourself. Run!”
Thorax considered the blood trickling fr
om Edmund’s forehead, knees, and hands. She bolted to the south. Edmund labored northward.
Above, the troll thundered down the hill, following a course that would intercept Edmund a couple hundred yards upriver.
“Run!” he hooted. “Run!”
But Edmund couldn’t run. He stopped, gasping for breath, holding his cramping sides.
A . . . a troll? They were . . . they were all supposed to be killed off!
Evidently, some survived. Now, think! You can’t outrun him. He can cover at least three times as much ground as you with each step.
The troll roared closer.
Edmund stood doubled over, sucking in air, rain cascading over him, droplets of blood falling from the tip of his nose.
Hide!
You can’t hide from him! He’ll smell you. You’ve got to run. Run!
The storm will help with the smell. Think . . .
Edmund’s hat flew off, whipping in circles above the raging river. Blue lightning cleaved the dark sky.
Run!
I can’t.
Do something!
The troll lumbered down the hill. “I’m coming!” he gloated.
Sir Henry! Remember the Tale of Sir Henry? Hide where he’d least expect it! Hurry!
Exhausted, Edmund lifted himself up and staggered to the hillside. Hand over bleeding hand, he began pulling himself back up the forested slope. Upriver, not more than a hundred yards away, the troll reached the bottom of the hill.
Lightning detonated. The valley pulsated red and then vibrated.
“Hiding, eh?” the troll called, evidently delighted by the challenge. He sniffed the storm-ravaged air, a crude spear the size of a man in his gnarled hands.
Clinging to the trunk of a stunted pine tree, Edmund started sliding slowly back down the hill, his fingers slipping on the wet bark. He dug in his nails and held his breath, praying that the troll wouldn’t look up. Thirty feet below, the troll stalked along the frothing river.
The troll sniffed the wind. “You can’t hide for long!”
He stopped directly beneath Edmund.
Edmund’s arms strained as his grip on the tree weakened.
Somewhere in the darkness downriver, Thorax howled.
“Ah!” The troll laughed and bounded after her, brandishing the spear over his head.
“You can’t hide from me!” he bellowed. “Run! Run if you can!”
The troll gone, Edmund forced himself to resume climbing. His muscles quaking, he pulled himself up over a ledge and collapsed.
Rain beat down on him.
The sky flashed red.
A huge cavern yawned before him.
Hide! He’ll never think to search in his own cave.
He will if he was the troll Sir Henry fought.
Edmund choked. He hadn’t thought about that. Trolls weren’t stupid, and the tale of Sir Henry’s trickery wasn’t a secret. What if he came back to his lair once he couldn’t find Edmund in the woods?
If he comes back, you better hope there’s another exit. Otherwise you’re done for!
I’ll only stay for a few minutes. I’ll catch my breath while he searches further and further into the forest. Then I’ll run in the opposite direction.
Downriver, Thorax snarled and barked. Edmund mentally urged her to run faster, using her small size to dart underneath the low-lying branches. Trolls were quick, but their girth would slow them considerably if they had to fight their way through the undergrowth.
Hurry! Get out of view!
Wiping blood and rain from his eyes, Edmund got up and hobbled into the mouth of the cave. Wind screeched. Rain stung the side of his face. Lightning slashed the sky. For a second, something glittered before him.
He looked down.
Thousands of coins and gems and pieces of jewelry were scattered about the cave’s floor. He started to reach for the treasure.
Leave it. It’s bait! Don’t you know anything? Remember what happened to Harlen in The Horrors of the Mountains? Come on. Get out of view and hide!
Edmund plunged into the darkness of the tunnel, his hands feeling along the cold stone walls, his feet crunching on the unseen riches littering the floor. The stench of rot and decay punched his nostrils. Gagging, he limped forward blindly.
Edmund fumbled with the dented lantern hanging from his dripping pack.
What’re you doing? You’re going to give yourself away! That light is going be like a beacon in this storm. You might as well just lie down on a platter for him.
The bend in the tunnel will block the light from outside. I need to see or I’ll fall in some pit!
Edmund touched the wick.
“Fyre av nå.”
A small blue flame leapt up.
There was scurrying.
Edmund swept the light around him.
A thousand black rats with red gleaming eyes scattered in every direction. They were everywhere—on the floor, on the tops of boulders, along the ledges lining the cavern. Their squeaking and scampering feet swarmed throughout the chamber. Then, in a matter of seconds, they were gone, vanished in any of the countless cracks and holes that pocked the cavern walls.
His skin crawling, Edmund retched.
Come on. Pull yourself together. They’re just vermin. Nobody has ever died from rat bites. You just need some place to hide for a few minutes and catch your breath.
Edmund forced himself to examine his surroundings.
He was in a cavern halfway up the hill. Water dripped from tree roots hanging like dirty spider webs from the ceiling. In the far corner, there was a pile of pine branches resembling a nest or bed. Skulls of assorted creatures and humanoids filled niches in the wall. Other bones, some still with traces of flesh and fur, lay piled in a great heap to his left. Assorted weapons, pieces of armor, shields, and broken wooden chests lined the ledges high above the cavern floor. One of the dented shields caught Edmund’s attention. He took a step back and gasped.
That’s the emblem of Sir William of Endris!
Then he spotted shields from other heroes of old that he had read about—Sir Reginald, Sir Harris of Upshire, Sir Arlington, Sir Perris. Perplexed, he stared at them all lining the cavern like paintings in a museum. Some of them had been sliced cleanly in two.
How can this be? They didn’t die around here. They should be in the Hall of Heroes in Eryn Mas.
Thunder rattled the shields.
Come on! Turn off the light and hide!
As Edmund turned away, his lantern illuminated a narrow fissure in the cavern wall. Inside stood a black book the size of a tall man’s torso.
That must have over three thousand pages!
As if drawn by magic, he stepped toward it.
Don’t be a fool. Get out of here. You’ve rested enough, and the troll is probably a half mile away by now. Go before he comes back!
He squinted at the gold lettering on the tome’s dark leather binding, unable to make the letters out.
Come on. Remember the troll? Go!
Setting his lantern on a ledge, Edmund reached inside the fissure. The book was heavier than he thought it would be. Grunting, he laid it gingerly on the ground. He blew the dirt off its worn cover. In the wavering orange lantern light, a single word appeared.
Kalvella?
What does that mean?
Who cares? Get out of here!
He opened the cover, taking care not to drip water on the thick pages. A faded ink drawing adorned the first page. A hulking humanoid shape was looming over what appeared to be three sickly children, their arms upraised, their faces contorted in silent screams of horror. In the background, adult-sized figures lay in a pool of blood, their organs eviscerated from their abdomens.
Edmund turned the page, the dry parchment crackling in his damp hands.
What is this?
He turned another page.
Maybe an epic poem?
But in what language?
He turned several more pages, attempting to decipher the spid
ery, black script.
It could be a derivation of the early languages. Some of these characters seem similar. Perhaps it’s written up to down, like Núvel.
Perhaps. Whatever this is, it’s old.
He searched for a date, but couldn’t find anything that he could read.
He turned another page, and then another.
He came to an ornate illustration of a dying man sprawled in a woman’s arms. One of his pale hands lay limp at his side, the other clutching his chest, blood seeping through his fingers. His eyes were rolled heavenward, his mouth open. The woman bent over him, weeping.
Beautiful composition. I wonder who did it.
He couldn’t find a signature.
A flash of crimson light illuminated the entrance to the cave. A minute later, thunder rumbled. Drops of water dropped from the ceiling with a steady—plunk, plunk, plunk.
Come on! Let’s go!
In a minute . . .
Edmund turned a few more pages.
I wonder what this is.
He turned a few more pages.
He looked up. Grey light was fading outside.
Edmund leapt to his feet.
He had gone through a quarter of the book.
How long—?
Get the hell out of here! Run!
He wrapped his arms around the tome.
Put it back!
No. It’s too valuable.
You can’t run with it, you idiot! Get out of here!
The book pressed against his breast, lantern swinging from his fingertips, Edmund waddled to the cavern entrance, and surveyed the ravaged valley.
Trees and branches lay piled along the engorged river like giant beaver dams, mud-colored water surging over them. Water dripped from every leaf. Small streams raced down the hillside. To the west, the sun was setting in an orange haze. Isolated stars twinkled in the maroon skies over the mountain peaks to the east.
How long was I—?
Somebody swore.
Through the trees, a large shape plodded along the undulating river, its head down, spear dragging by its side.
The troll cussed again.
“Damn imp,” he said. “Taunt me, will he? I’ll get the bugger. The worm! When the blasted sun sets, I’ll get him. I’ll get him and squeeze his eyes out!”
Edmund flattened himself against the interior wall of the passage.