by Bill Allen
Shortly after noon, the group was forced to turn east along the edge of a high cliff overlooking a great river. The rock of the opposing cliff face gleamed a brilliant gold, glittering in the bright sunlight as they approached. Scattered along the wall, streams of water cascaded over the edge and plummeted into the bluest river Greg had ever seen, churning up a pure white foam that joined with the gentle waves and wound its way downstream, producing a spectacle rivaling anything Greg had ever seen, even on a postcard. If he hadn’t witnessed Heaven’s Canvas and Fey Field on his last visit to Myrth, he’d have thought a more spectacular spot could not exist on any world.
“What is this place?” Greg asked.
“The River Styx,” Priscilla said, sounding quite happy.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, why?”
“It’s just I’ve heard of a River Styx back home, too. I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s a good place.”
Marvin gazed out over the expanse. “Really? I think this is one of the nicest spots in the kingdom. It’s certainly one of the most popular tourist attractions. Of course, most everyone prefers to view it from the other side, where it’s safe.”
“This cliff isn’t safe?” Greg said, backing away from the edge.
“No, the cliff’s fine. I was talking about the monsters.”
“Huh?” Greg said, spinning to scan the bushes behind.
Melvin rolled his eyes. “He means there’s no monsters on the Styx side, genius.”
“Really?” Greg looked again at the beautiful golden cliffs lining the opposite side of the river. “Then why does everyone live here in the kingdom?”
“Everyone doesn’t,” said Marvin. “I find it a bit hot and humid in the Styx myself, especially in summer, but plenty of folks like it there.” He took one last look at the view. “Anyway, the river is pretty. I’ll give it that.”
“It’s magnificent,” said Priscilla.
“Big deal,” said Melvin. “It’s just water. I want to see some trolls.”
As exciting as that sounded, the five of them walked along the edge of the cliff for miles and still didn’t spot a single troll.
“Odd,” said Marvin. “I can’t ever remember going far in this region without running afoul of at least one or two of the beasts.”
“Lucky wasn’t with you then,” said Melvin. “Now that he is, we probably won’t have to deal with any trolls at all.”
“If only,” Greg muttered to himself, but then all he had to look forward to when they finished up here was his inevitable decapitation under a spireling axe.
Eventually the going turned too treacherous and they were forced to angle back into the woods. It was there Marvin stopped suddenly and held up his sword. “Halt. What was that?”
“What was what?” Greg asked.
“That noise in the brush.”
“I’m sure it was just a monkeydog,” Priscilla said, plopping onto a fallen log. “The whole kingdom’s loaded with them.”
“No, I smelled something, too. I think we may have found our trolls.”
Greg had smelled trolls before and didn’t think he could overlook the scent now. “I don’t smell anything,” he insisted.
“Shh, there it is again.”
“I don’t hear anything either,” Greg sighed. But then he did hear something, and a nauseating stench drifted across the breeze.
“This is it, kids,” Marvin said eagerly. “You’re about to see why there’s never been a troll born who could stand against the Mighty Greatheart.”
For a second Greg thought Marvin was going to do something foolish, but only for a second. After that he knew Marvin was going to do something foolish. The arrogant dragonslayer hefted his sword and shield and screamed an exuberant battle cry as he charged blindly into the woods. Admittedly, he posed a formidable presence, but Greg thought he would have looked even more threatening without the two bedrolls tied across his chest and back. “He is a brave one. I’ll give him that.”
But then Marvin’s scream turned a great deal more hysterical and cut off abruptly with a strangled gasp.
“Something’s wrong,” Melvin yelled. Without another word he ran blindly after his brother.
Before any of the others could act, Rake dove off Greg’s shoulders and darted between Melvin’s feet. Melvin went down hard, limbs splayed amidst the fallen leaves, and Greg seized the moment to dive on top of him.
“Get off me,” said Melvin. “Marvin needs help.”
“Wait,” Greg gasped, “we don’t know what’s over there.”
Lucky rushed ahead and peered through the bushes. He shushed them both and waved them over. Melvin jumped to his feet, scowled at Greg, and stormed to where Lucky stood. Greg and Priscilla followed. They strained to see over the others’ shoulders.
Priscilla gasped. “Oh, my . . .”
Greg’s breath caught too. Not more than twenty feet away stood the edge of a clearing, though at the moment the area was anything but clear. Hundreds of trolls had banded together there to camp, and not far from the edge where Greg and the others stood, four of the trolls held Marvin off the ground, one assigned to each limb. They tugged in opposite directions and laughed as Marvin wailed in pain.
Nearby, another of the trolls stooped to pick up Marvin’s sword. He smiled an ugly, disfigured grin and slashed out experimentally at one of his brethren, cleanly slicing off the creature’s arm in a single swipe. The maimed troll shrieked out at first, but then looked down at the severed limb and joined with the others as they all roared with laughter.
“We’ve got to do something,” cried Melvin.
“Shh,” said Priscilla. “You’re going to get us killed.”
“But—”
“Would you shut up?” said Lucky. “What do you expect us to do? There must be a thousand trolls over there.”
“Shh,” said Greg. “Something’s happening.”
The crowd of trolls grew more organized and parted to allow a hulking figure to pass. An enormous troll, a full head taller than the rest, lumbered forward to survey the situation from beneath his low, sloping brow. A row of three-inch-long thorns pierced the skin of each of his cheeks, and since there was a good chance the troll had put them there willingly, Greg thought that, alone, marked him as someone the three of them shouldn’t mess with.
While the other trolls were dressed in tattered clothes, little more than rags, the larger troll’s outfit was more respectable. Sure, his shirt was split through the chest and shoulders, and his pants were torn through the thighs, but the way his muscles bulged it would have been impossible to imagine a cloth strong enough to stand the strain.
“Stop,” he commanded as the four trolls continued to tug at Marvin’s limbs.
“He talked,” whispered Greg.
“Some of them do,” said Lucky.
“Don’t you know anything?” Melvin said with a huff.
“Shh,” said Priscilla. “I can’t hear.”
“Put down,” the large troll ordered.
The two trolls holding Marvin’s arms released him, while the two holding his feet were slower in the uptake, causing Marvin to fall roughly on his head. The one who had talked snatched Marvin up by his rear bedroll, easily lifting him off his feet, and Marvin thrashed like a dangling turtle, as the band of trolls chortled over his predicament.
“Seen scrawny human before,” the talking troll said. “Big hero in human world. Slay lots of dragons . . .”
The others studied him curiously over their heavy brows.
“. . . and trolls,” the large one finished.
The looks of curiosity quickly turned to rage, and when the band pressed forward, waving their gnarled clubs and axes, Greg knew things were about to take a turn for the worse.
“Stop,�
� the large troll commanded once more. “Make example of hero. Bring pike.” Two of the trolls pushed over a small tree and quickly stripped it of its branches.
“This can’t be good,” said Lucky as Greg struggled to hold Melvin back.
Another troll stepped forward and cut off the tree’s huge ball of roots with a single swipe of his axe. Four flicks of his wrist later, he had carved a sharp point. Greg had to tighten his grip on Melvin as two more of the beasts pushed Marvin off his feet and, thankfully, used a length of heavily corded rope to tie him to the pike. They then stood the pike on end, driving the point deep into the ground, while the others laughed and jeered.
“What should we do?” cried Melvin.
“What can we?” said Lucky. “We’d need an army to get him out of there.”
“That’s a great idea,” Greg said, his spirits suddenly lifting.
“Huh?”
“King Peter said he sent Ryder and his men out to the south to patrol the borders. They were supposed to be hunting trolls . . . and here are the trolls. If I know Ryder, his army’s not far off. We’ve been following the western edge of the border already, so we know they must be farther to the east. All we need to do is go find them.”
“But King Peter expected Ryder to take another week to get here,” said Lucky. “We haven’t been gone that long.”
“No, but we’ve got your luck on our side, remember?” Greg insisted. “Ryder probably made better time than expected. We’re sure to run right into him and his men.”
“We can’t leave,” said Melvin. “We don’t have time.” Over his shoulder, Greg saw Marvin kick his leg to keep one of the more curious trolls from gnawing on his shin.
“But it’s the only choice we have,” said Priscilla.
“No, Melvin’s right,” Greg said. “Marvin can’t wait. I don’t know what I was thinking. If that many men were anywhere close, we’d have heard them.”
“What else can we do?” Melvin said.
“We’ll get something better than an army,” said Greg. “We’ll get a dragon.”
“Ruuan,” Priscilla said. “That’s a great idea . . . oh, but how are we going to find him?”
“He didn’t come looking for us,” said Greg, “Let’s hope when he found out we left Greatheart’s place he returned to his lair.”
Melvin groaned. “But Ruuan’s lair is months from here. How does that help?”
“No, it’s only minutes away for a dragon . . . and even less for me.” Greg held up his hand for the others to see. The special ring Ruuan had given him on his last trip to Myrth glittered in the late-afternoon sun.
“Your ring,” squealed Priscilla. “I forgot. You can use it to pop straight into Ruuan’s lair and be back with the dragon in minutes.”
From the clearing, Marvin let out a scream. One of the trolls tested his bonds by grabbing the rope and twisting it tighter, and Marvin yelled louder still.
“Let’s hope that’s soon enough,” said Greg. He quickly said good-bye to the others, took a deep breath and recalled the magic word Ruuan had taught him six months earlier. “Transportus,” he shouted.
Before the word had even left Greg’s mouth, Priscilla rushed forward, screamed “Wait!” and threw her arms about Greg’s waist. Greg felt a disturbingly familiar sense of disorientation. The forest blurred into nothingness, and when his surroundings returned, he was standing in Ruuan’s white-hot lair at the center of the Infinite Spire on the opposite side of the kingdom. Priscilla’s arms, he realized, were still wrapped around his waist. He breathed a sigh of relief when he confirmed the rest of her was there as well.
Unexpected Company
“Don’t let go,” Greg shouted. He probably didn’t need to mention it. Priscilla’s arms were about to cut right through him. “Ruuan’s ring is protecting you from the heat, but I don’t want to think what might happen if you stop holding on. Come on, let’s get to the storage locker.”
Priscilla nodded without relaxing her grip, and the two of them shuffled over to a crack in the wall that led to a small chamber off Ruuan’s lair. Priscilla had once spent three days trapped inside this space, but she looked more than willing to return to it now, most likely because the alternative was to burst into flames. Inside, the air felt comfortably cool. Still Greg had to pry Priscilla’s arms off his waist.
“Why’d you grab on to me like that?” he said. “You could have been killed.”
“I wanted to ask what you were going to do if Ruuan wasn’t here,” said Priscilla.
“And that was worth risking your life over?”
“I didn’t realize I was risking my life at the time. Besides, what are you going to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Ruuan isn’t out there, is he?”
Greg realized he’d been too concerned over Priscilla’s safety to notice even the absence of the three-hundred-foot-long dragon. “He’s not?”
Priscilla shook her head slowly, and Greg could tell she understood the full meaning of her own words. Without Ruuan’s help, they were trapped here, and no help would be coming for Marvin.
From beneath Greg’s clothing came a deep, guttural growl. Greg felt Rake’s claws tear into his stomach. He yelped as much from surprise as from the pain, and was just about to scold the shadowcat when a shuffling sounded in one of the dark recesses of the chamber.
Greg’s walking stick launched itself upward, as if of its own accord. “Who’s there?”
Ahead in the shadows appeared the vague outline of a man’s head. The figure stepped forward until a heavily shadowed face moved under the spotlight cast from one of the many portals cut high in the stone wall. Greg’s pulse approached terminal velocity.
Priscilla screamed.
Before he realized Priscilla’s scream had been one of joy, Greg jumped a full foot off the ground. When he recognized the warm blue eyes ahead, he felt a welcome wave of relief. “Nathan? What are you doing here?”
The wiry man who had accompanied him on his last adventure on Myrth wore loose-fitting slacks and a light cloth shirt that seemed inappropriate for this world. He leaned against a new but weathered staff and smiled. “I might ask you the same thing, young Greghart . . . or you, Princess.”
“We came to find Ruuan,” Greg said.
“That would have been my guess,” said Nathan, “but I’m afraid the dragon is not here.”
“We can see that,” said Priscilla. “Where is he?”
“He has gone on a quest.”
Greg gasped, partly because of what Nathan had said, but mostly because Rake had just plunged his claws even deeper into Greg’s skin and used them to pull himself out from under Greg’s tunic. The shadowcat adopted a pitiful expression until Nathan reached out and scratched him behind the ears.
“I hope it’s not a long quest,” said Greg. “We really need Ruuan’s help.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” said Nathan, “but I’m afraid it’s quite a long one indeed. He has gone to a special place where only dragons can go.”
Greg thought about this a moment. “Sounds exactly like the kind of place I wouldn’t want to be.” He caught Priscilla frowning at him. “Sorry. When will he be back?” he asked Nathan.
“There’s no way to know for sure. He’s gone to a realm of great magic, and time has been known to do some rather peculiar things there. He could be back any moment. I cannot say. Already I’ve waited for days.”
“Days?” said Priscilla.
“But we need him now,” Greg insisted. “Marvin may not have much time.”
Nathan’s brow furrowed. “What is this about?”
“Marvin Greatheart was captured by a band of trolls,” said Greg. “We came here for Ruuan’s help to set him free.”
“Marvin Greatheart, the dragonslayer?”
Nathan shrugged. “I just find it hard to believe the one I’ve heard so much about could be captured by a simple band of trolls.”
“You probably shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” said Greg. “Besides, there were hundreds of them. Maybe thousands.”
Nathan looked truly surprised. “You’re kidding?”
“People from Gyrth have odd ideas about humor, I suppose,” said Priscilla.
Nathan appeared to contemplate what he had been told. “How long ago did this happen?”
“Just a few minutes,” said Greg, “but we need to find a way back. There’s no telling what those trolls will do.”
“If you’ve spent much time around trolls, you ought to have a pretty good idea,” Nathan said pensively.
“Oh my,” said Priscilla. “We need Ruuan back now.”
“As I said before,” Nathan told her, “there’s no way of knowing when he will return. I think we dare not wait. I’ll need to take care of this myself.”
“You?” said Priscilla. “How can you help? The trolls are holding Marvin on the other side of the kingdom.”
“I should have no trouble speeding our travel,” said Nathan, “but not from here. This area belongs to Ruuan. We’ll have to leave the spire, as my magic is seriously impeded in his lair.”
“You’re a magician?” said Priscilla.
“I knew something wasn’t right about you,” said Greg. “But this is good. If you can do magic, maybe we won’t need Ruuan. But we still need to get moving. Who knows what may be happening to Marvin right now?”
Nathan gave him an odd look. “You did say trolls, right?”
He retrieved a light-colored cloak from the shadows. Priscilla latched onto Greg’s waist, and the two of them shuffled out into the main cavern.
Nathan stepped out behind them. “Why are you walking like that?”
“So Priscilla won’t burst into flames,” Greg told him.