The Mission Begins

by Kevin J. Fitzgerald

  Frenjoo fought Paladin and clung to the vibrating rail, sniveling and moaning.

  Realizing the full severity of the situation, Paladin plunged his powerful teeth into Frenjoo’s hands, pulling him from the rail and screaming, “Run!” Paladin shoved Frenjoo in the direction of the train.

  Frenjoo panicked, trying to push past Paladin back in the direction they had come. But Paladin was already on top of him, forcing him in the opposite direction—the direction of the train!

  Frenjoo erupted in a series of objections; Paladin listened to none of them. They only had seconds! If they tried to flee in the direction they had come, the train would catch them and overtake them. But if they could close the distance between themselves and the oncoming train in time, then maybe . . .

  Rolo froze as the train rushed past, his small hands pressed to his mouth in astonishment.

  Paladin and Frenjoo leapt from railroad tie to railroad tie, dashing across the bridge as fast as they could. The train hadn’t quite reached the entrance to the bridge yet, and Paladin forced them on. It was going to be close! The rumbling of the train filled their ears. There were only yards between them and the steel teeth of the train scraping along the track now. Paladin watched as the train emerged fully from the side of the ravine. Suddenly, without halting, Paladin grabbed Frenjoo from behind and thrust him to one side. In the next instant they left the bridge, just as the massive train went squealing along the track behind them. Frenjoo screamed. They soared through the air, covering the last feet of distance between them and the side of the gulch. They struck the side in a small explosion of dust, coughing and gasping. Immediately, the ground beneath them gave way.

  Rolo pushed his way through the brush above them and grabbed hold of Paladin’s ear and Frenjoo’s tail. They both let out a cry. This was short-lived, as the gravel they landed upon slid away under Rolo’s added weight. Before any of them knew what was happening, the three travelers tumbled end-over-end down the steep side of the ravine, crashing through bushes, bouncing off rocks, slamming into saplings, until at last they collided with a collective thud into a small, dry tree branch that stretched out over the shallow river.

  “Ouch,” Rolo said.

  And the train thundered on along the bridge overhead.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Down the River”

  The dust settled, and the three companions sat up slowly—a sore heap of scrapes and bruises, panting wildly. After a few dazed moments the shock wore off, and they actually began to chuckle slightly. Before long they were laughing loudly, just thankful to be alive. Even Frenjoo felt his fear and anxiety drain away as he realized they had escaped with their lives. He fell back again amongst the others, closing his eyes and smiling widely. The three of them stayed like this for a few moments, laughing and recovering from the narrow, dusty swathe they had plowed down the side of the ravine. Rolo’s laugh was loud and hearty. He reached forward and gave Paladin a good-hearted slap on the back.

  “Crazy rabbit!”

  As he did, it was too much for the dry tree branch upon which they had landed. With a loud “snap!” and a hollow “plop!” the three companions soon found themselves drenched in the river below. They spluttered and splashed to the surface, clinging tightly to the branch itself. But they were rushed along in the current of the river, away from where the railroad trestle legs plunged deep into its waters.

  “I don’t believe this!” Paladin exclaimed, and looked at the other two.

  The water wasn’t too deep or too rough, and the coolness was actually a blessing to their battered bodies. They clung to the branch and floated along. High above, almost completely forgotten, the long train continued to clatter along the rails, unaware of the threat it had posed to the three travelers. From somewhere even higher, the lone hawk let out another single cry. Had any of them thought to look up, they would have noticed that, sitting atop many of the long, flat railcars of the train, were several large white trailers, each bearing three distinct letters: S.I.N.

  §

  “I have not found them anywhere, sir.”

  “You’re sure?” Fane asked.

  Blackskull ruffled his feathers uncomfortably and looked at the huge raven looming over him. “Positive,” he answered.

  “And what of other scouts?”

  “They all report the same,” Glyde responded coldly, almost hissing. “They’ve not camped anywhere.”

  “Perhaps they have not yet entered the forest, sir,” Blackskull offered.

  Fane didn’t respond. He lowered his gaze and scanned the forest floor from where they sat, perched high in a pine tree. “I suppose that’s possible,” he mused. “However unlikely.”

  “Or perhaps they have just not yet made this pass,” Blackskull continued. “Perhaps they are still on the other slope?”

  “But none of the scouts from that side have seen them, correct?” Fane asked.

  “No, sir,” Glyde said stoically.

  The birds fell silent, each of them thinking. Fane continued to peer deep into the forest below them. “Where are you, rabbit?” he whispered softly. Then, after a few moments, he finally croaked out, “Send out the scouts again!” He cawed loudly, and angrily beat his wings.

  §

  The night was cold.

  After a relatively short ride down the lazy river the three companions put ashore sometime just before dusk, once their branch-float lodged between a couple of rocks at the river’s edge. The landscape around them had changed dramatically from where they crossed the ravine at the railroad bridge earlier. They took mental inventory of where they were.

  Paladin’s breath caught in his throat.

  Around them were mountains—mountains so huge that none of them had ever seen anything like them before. They looked like great god-sized portions of mashed potatoes covered in thick brown gravy. Shafts of evening sunlight pierced the clouds and played a relentless game of cat and mouse upon the stone surfaces with cold patches of dark shadow. After a moment the three of them started off in the direction of the river again, traveling along its bank. As they made their way along the winding shore, Paladin couldn’t help but think how the mountains seemed a strange blend of contoured shapes that looked as though they had been molded by the strong thumbs of a great sculptor. Yet in other places, sharp, exposed sections of jagged rock looked as though they had been carved clumsily with a blunt instrument. To him, the mountains looked either the result of sheer chaos . . . or pure genius.

  That night, they bivouacked not far from the river. They found a snug enclosure of moss-covered rocks to hide within. But still, it was dreadfully cold—and growing colder! The travelers huddled together; their fur was still damp, and the sharp wind howling from the peaks around them bit at them fiercely. The wind was an orchestra of highs and lows that sounded like voices. Frenjoo shivered, and looked about nervously. Dense clouds overhead offered a deep blue against the indigo sky of twilight. Here and there, stars appeared. A crescent moon protruded upwards from the thick, fast-moving clouds, and looked like the fin of some lunar shark trekking its way through the ocean of night. In the pale moonlight, Rolo observed how the steep mountains on either side of the river looked like huge faces.

  “They look as though they are gazing into one another’s eyes,” he whispered. “Ever-discussing things of ages past.”

  And it was true. Shadows and grooves created leering eyes, sharp noses, and mouths agape; faces that were mournful, sullen, and dreadful, like ancient, ceremonial masks of judgement.

  “Oh!” Paladin sat up straight. “Wait! Don’t you see?!”

  And it was only then that they realized they must have found their way into the fabled Canyon of Faces after all!

  Awe struck them.

  Inwardly, they marveled at this good fortune—though outwardly, they were all too tired and too cold to show much reaction at all. One by one, the travelers drifted into a restless sleep.

  Paladin was awake longer than the other two, and couldn’t help
but wonder if it had been Spirit all along who led them in the direction first of the haybales, and then into the forest. He was amazed at how long ago that all seemed. Wondering about this was the final thought of the rabbit’s conscious mind for that long day.

  That night, they slept cold and uncomfortable—and each of them dreamed of great stone faces watching them from all around.

  CHAPTER 17

  “A Chance Meeting”

  The three of them looked up at the rocky incline for some time before any of them spoke. As usual, it was Rolo.

  “Well . . .” he sighed. He took in a deep draught of the morning air, and looked around thoughtfully. “Either we do our best with this incline, or we travel along further until we find another way up.”

  Paladin thought a moment. “Is that really an option?” he asked. He looked at the guinea pig. This was not at all intended to be argumentative; the rabbit genuinely didn’t know.

  “Well, the problem is,” Rolo responded, pursing his lips, “if we do opt for that, rather than trying our hand at this incline, then we have no way of knowing just how far out of the way we might go.” He looked at the others and quickly added what he knew they were thinking. “Not that I suppose that matters much at this point.” Rolo, of course, referred to their adventures of the previous day: the encounter with the elahs at the haybales, becoming lost in the woods, crossing the railroad bridge, tumbling down the wall of the ravine, plunging into the river, and passing the night in the Canyon of Faces.

  They awakened earlier this morning to find the entire canyon enshrouded in a thick fog. It hedged them about on all sides, stalking them in the hollows. It was as if they viewed the world through frosted glass; their breath hung in front of their faces like heavy clouds. Away to the left, back up the canyon the way they had come, they could just make out the golden tip of the early morning sun where it perched atop distant clouds. It looked to them like the gold-crusted dome of some faraway and ancient citadel waiting to be rediscovered. The feeling in the vale itself had been entirely unsettling to awaken to. It had been the consensus of the group that, rather than take the time to breakfast at that point, they should simply get going, hoping the chill would leave their bones soon.

  It was slower going at first. On more than one occasion, they became turned around and had to backtrack slightly. And ever their path seemed to lead them down and down and down. By mid-morning, the sun had burned off the fog, and they once again traipsed along merrily. Until they rounded a bend to find the steep rock wall in front of them. Now, as they looked at it, their choices were clear:

  “We either go back the way we came and try to find another path,” Rolo concluded. “Or . . . we try to go around it somehow, perhaps out in the river itself.”

  “Oh, I say!” Frenjoo exclaimed. “It’s not that steep of a climb. Look here!” Paladin and Rolo watched as Frenjoo suddenly bounded to a nearby tree, scampered up the trunk to where he was even with a small rock ledge, and leapt over to it. Then, he looked back at the other two and smiled. Behind him, his tail bobbed excitedly. “See?”

  Paladin and Rolo couldn’t help but smile as well.

  Rolo called to Frenjoo, “That’s all fine and good for you, master squirrel!” He motioned to Paladin. “The problem is . . . neither Paladin nor I are quite as adept as you are at tree-climbing!”

  “But perhaps you could find something to lower down to us,” Paladin added quickly.

  Rolo looked at the rabbit, thinking.

  For a moment Frenjoo gazed at Paladin, anxiously perched upon the rock ledge, but looking at the same time as if he were perched upon the edge of some wonderful idea. He shifted his front feet back and forth quickly a moment, then scaled the rest of the slope and disappeared over its crest.

  Paladin and Rolo took advantage of the opportunity to rest. Then leaned on the nearby rocks, both of them breathing heavily. Paladin took a moment to clean himself.

  Moments later a loud scraping and shuffling came from above, accompanied by a muffled grunting. Paladin and Rolo looked to see the end of a large log appear over the rocky ledge.

  “Frenjoo?” Paladin squeaked.

  The log tipped over the edge and headed directly toward them! Frenjoo’s voice called as if from far away, “Look out below!”

  Paladin and Rolo had just enough time to scramble out of the way before the large log landed with a crunch where they had been, splintering into pieces. High above Frenjoo peered over the ledge, smiling. Absently, he waved.

  Rolo was just about to reprimand the overeager squirrel when a muffled voice exclaimed from within the log, “Oh, I say!”

  Paladin and Rolo stepped back. A scuffling sound came from within the log as bits of bark crumbled away. At once a furry snout appeared, followed by an entire face.

  “It’s a raccoon!” Paladin exclaimed.

  Judging from the look on its face, the racoon had obviously been startled out of a very sound sleep. “What’s all the commotion about?” the raccoon demanded, sounding quite annoyed. As the whole head emerged from the log it looked around, noticing Paladin and Rolo for the first time. “Eh? What’s this?” he said, squinting through tired, red eyes. “A rabbit?” he said. “And a . . . a . . . what are you, anyway?” he pointed at Rolo, scratching his head and yawning.

  “I am a guinea pig,” Rolo snorted, and stood up a bit straighter.

  “A guinea—?” the raccoon repeated to himself, looking completely confused. “Well, of course you are!” he said. The racoon spent the next several moments clawing its way entirely out of the log, all the while muttering to himself about new people being in the forest all the time.

  Paladin watched this with mild amusement.

  When the raccoon was quite done and had thoroughly checked himself over several times he looked at Rolo and Paladin again, licked his lips and said, “Now . . . What’s the meaning of waking me out of a sound sleep?” The racoon ambled over to them. Rolo stepped back a bit, this time getting behind Paladin. Paladin stayed where he was.

  “W-we didn’t mean to, Master Raccoon,” Paladin answered. “We were only trying to get up this incline here.”

  “Master . . .” the raccoon repeated again, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

  “Please,” he chuckled, “call me Eucon.” He then smiled.

  “Ahoy, down there!” Frenjoo called. They looked up in time to see the squirrel bounding down the log towards them. The other two had almost forgotten about him! “We’re losing time!” Frenjoo said excitedly.

  “Ah!” Eucon said, still smiling. “A squirrel as well? Tell me,” he said, looking around at the three of them closely. “What on earth are a rabbit, a squirrel, and a. . .” He paused, looking at Rolo again. “Uh, just what did you say you were?”

  “A guinea pig!” Rolo grunted.

  “Yes, yes,” Eucon agreed. “Just what on earth are the three of you doing traveling this forsaken road together?”

  “Our business is our own,” Rolo said without hesitation.

  “Oh, is it?” Eucon replied, sounding somewhat surprised. He peered at the ground and stepped away from the travelers, perhaps turning the suggestion over in his mind. “Well, I suppose it is!” he concluded. “Yes, yes.” He nodded. “Quite right, quite right.” Once more, Eucon muttered something about strangers being in the woods.

  “Rolo,” Paladin whispered. He pulled the guinea pig away from the others and leaned in, whispering, “I once read somewhere that if you treat people like your enemies, they’ll be more than obliged to play the part.”

  “And what exactly does that mean?” the guinea pig narrowed his eyes.

  Paladin saw the meaning was lost on Rolo. “Well,” Paladin said, glancing back at Eucon. The racoon had set about busily helping himself to a breakfast of grubs from the shattered remains of the log. Frenjoo joined him, and had apparently been convinced to try a grub. From the look on his face, it didn’t appear the squirrel appreciated grubs the way Eucon did. “Look at him,” Paladin said to Rol
o. “I don’t think we need to treat him as an enemy. Don’t you remember Agabus said we would meet those along the way who would help us?”

  Rolo sighed deeply, thinking.

  But before he could respond, a muffled voice exclaimed from behind them, “The Poisoned Glen?”

  Paladin and Rolo turned to see Eucon staring at Frenjoo and just finishing a mouthful of grubs. The raccoon turned to face the others, and cleared his throat loudly. “Tell me,” the racoon asked, “why do you seek to enter the Poisoned Glen?”

  Rolo glared past the racoon at Frenjoo. The squirrel hid himself behind the larger frame of the racoon, out of the way of the guinea pig’s piercing gaze.

  “Frenjoo!” Rolo growled.

  Much to the chagrin of Rolo, Paladin soon recounted their entire tale to the raccoon. Paladin saw no reason to view Eucon as an adversary; rather, he thought perhaps the racoon could aid them on their quest.

  Eucon listened as the rabbit recounted their adventures: How he had been drawn from the water by Spirit; how they were sent out by the Utergei. Eucon’s face became more and more grave, until eventually he interrupted Paladin in a hushed tone, “You seek moul cuilmh!” (This is pronounced “mow-ool queel-cha,” which, when loosely translated, means “mouth of death.”) “Don’t you?” Eucon asked. The others looked between themselves as the racoon stepped towards them. Frenjoo came out from behind the racoon. “A secret entrance to Ecah-hah,” Eucon said. “The world of the elahs!”

  “Yes,” Paladin said. He took a step towards the racoon. “Although we do not know it by that name. To us, it is known as Loehs-Anneheg. Tell us, Eucon, what do you know of this place?”

  “Shhh!” Eucon cautioned. He waved both his hands and looked around.