by Hal Malchow
“Wait here,” said Darrow. “We need a place to hide.”
Darrow followed the brook upstream through the forest. Darrow stepped faster as the brook crossed open fields, but for the most part, the woodlands sheltered it from view of the road. He passed a few farmhouses but dared not approach. There was nowhere the goblins would not search. Anyone caught aiding a prisoner would surely face death.
The sun rose higher and the birds burst into song. Darrow barely noticed. He stepped frantically, scanning the landscape for anywhere to hide.
At the edge of a field, Darrow heard a voice. Fearing goblins, he moved behind a tree. He listened closely and realized that what he was hearing was not the sound of someone speaking but sobbing. He stepped out from behind the tree and could just see a small shed beyond the field.
Darrow approached the shed with slow steps, his eyes darting in every direction. The sobs grew louder. The shed was small, as long as two men lying end to end and half as wide. The door was gone from the hinges, and it had no windows at all.
Darrow eased his head into the doorway. Curled up in the corner was a cave troll. The size of the creature frightened Darrow, who jumped back. But the troll looked up at Darrow, sad-eyed and motionless. Darrow took a slow step inside.
“Who are you?” Darrow asked.
“Naark,” the troll answered, his voice thick and gravelly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I have nowhere to go.”
“And where did you come from?”
“The dungeon,” Naark answered, and continued his pitiful sobbing.
Darrow quickly looked around the shed. It was a shed where a farmer had once stored corn, but it was a long time since it had been used. It was not much of a hiding place, but it would have to do.
“Stop crying,” Darrow said gently. “Come with me.”
The troll staggered to his feet and followed Darrow downstream. Hugga Hugga and Timwee were asleep. The cave troll let out a cry when he saw the two warriors, but Darrow assured him that they were friends. Naark lifted Timwee to his back and the four warriors headed to the shed.
They spoke no words; within seconds of arriving, they were all asleep, piled up on one another in the tiny confines of their hiding place.
It was midafternoon when Timwee awoke. He opened his eyes, surprised by his surroundings and the bright light shining through the doorway. As he rose, he grimaced, gripping his shoulder, and remembering the ordeal. He became nervous. The others were sleeping, but he did not care. He shook Darrow. For the first time since leaving the dungeon, Timwee asked questions.
“Who are you? Where are we going? Is the king alive?”
“I am Darrow of Ael. I freed you because I need soldiers to drive the goblins from Sonnencrest. And the king is dead,” Darrow answered calmly.
Hugga Hugga opened his eyes and, upon hearing these last words, blinked sadly. Naark snored.
Timwee looked down at his shrunken body and across at Hugga Hugga, who looked no better than he. He looked at Darrow, a boy who walked with a limp but spoke so bravely.
“Who sent you?”
“I came on my own.”
Hugga Hugga reached over and touched Timwee’s arm, giving him a stern look.
“Have you fought before?”
“Never.”
Hugga Hugga and Timwee exchanged nervous glances.
“Where is the army?” Timwee asked.
“The army is us,” Darrow replied.
Darrow looked at his bewildered comrades with fierce, determined eyes.
“You need not tell me that the road ahead is hard. I am young. I walk with a limp and there are many who are stronger than I. But no strong warrior has stepped forward to lead our battle. If you want to save our kingdom, you’ll have to fight with me.”
The warriors just stared.
“Look, I just rescued two of the greatest warriors of Sonnencrest.”
Timwee’s face took on a more respectful look, but he could think of nothing to say. He wanted to say he was old and weak and could no longer fight. But his pride would not allow it. His head sagged and he looked at the ground.
Hugga Hugga touched Timwee gently and signaled with his hands. Timwee translated.
“What has happened in the last ten years?”
It had not occurred to Darrow that, being locked in the dungeon, they would know nothing of the outside world. So Darrow began by describing how the king and his family had been killed.
Hugga Hugga signaled a question with his hands.
“All of them?” Timwee interpreted.
“All but the littlest princess. She escaped but has not been heard from since.”
Hugga Hugga began to weep.
With great passion, Darrow continued to tell, in long detail, how the goblins had killed the innocent, burned the countryside, and impoverished the kingdom.
As Darrow described all that had happened, the two old warriors stirred. Now they were filled with anger. But Darrow was just beginning.
A hundred times, he had considered what he might say to convince others to join his cause. Now, the first three recruits stood before him. His great passion poured forth as he pleaded his cause.
“This tragedy facing our kingdom has little to do with hunger or poverty or cruelty or death. A far greater loss has overtaken our land. Where brave warriors once fought and wise men ruled, tyranny reigns. Our kingdom stands paralyzed by fear and despair.
“The swords of four warriors can do little to the goblins. But our courage can awaken others. Each small victory will draw new volunteers to our cause. Our actions will rekindle powerful hopes. Those hopes can arouse our people and fuel the greater victories to come.
“As we sit here now, there is little that recommends our chances for success. From your years in prison, you are so weak you can hardly walk. I am inexperienced, lame, young. But what we need is not the strength or the experience or the will to fight. That will come later.
“What we need now is the courage to believe. That courage is the beginning. From that beginning we can, I know, inspire a great army more powerful than three goblin nations.”
Naark just blinked, awakened by all this talk. But Timwee and Hugga Hugga looked at one another, amazed by Darrow’s words.
For what must have been three or four minutes, Hugga Hugga made motions with his hands. When he finished, Timwee looked back at the Minotaur and nodded his agreement. Then he turned to Darrow.
“We are weak. We have not fought in ten long years. But we are not defeated. Our hearts remain strong. Win or lose, live or die, we will stand with you in this quest.”
“Then join me in a band of first believers—volunteers ready to risk their lives to free Sonnencrest.”
Darrow raised his small sword.
Timwee and Hugga Hugga exchanged uncomfortable glances. A strange pause filled the shed. Darrow was confused.
Naark blurted out, “I have no sword.”
Darrow realized his was the only weapon. He thought how his large words measured against this tiny force, broken in body and without arms. But he did not waver.
“To launch our band, we must believe.”
In a voice so loud and firm that the others feared he might alert goblin patrols, he shouted: “Hold out your swords!”
So Timwee, Hugga Hugga, and Naark, without hesitation, held up imaginary swords and repeated after Darrow:
To this small but mighty band
I pledge my allegiance, my honor, and my life
For a cause more noble and precious
Than the soul of creature or man
To break the chains of fear that enslave our people
To ignite in our countrymen the flames of hope
To inspire the courage of others
To bring a new sunrise of peace, honor, and virtue to our nation
For these things no price is too large, no sacrifice too great
A band of first believers we shall be
And th
rough our deeds will our people be free.
At the end of the pledge, Hugga Hugga was once again overcome with emotion. Timwee lifted his imaginary sword high into the air and cried, “So it shall be! So it shall be!”
Satisfied, Darrow urged his warriors to rest once more. His first victory had been won.
• 21 •
Zindown’s Mission
In the great room of the palace in Blumenbruch, fifty chairs surrounded a long table. King Malmut refused to sit. Beltar and the great wizard Zindown stood straight and still like statues before him.
“The entire army drunk on rincinnar brew! The prison unguarded! Warriors escaped!”
Beltar glanced at the door. Zindown smiled slyly.
“And have we captured them all? We have not!” The goblin king asked and answered his own question, working himself into a tirade.
Beltar leaned forward and spoke to the king.
“Indeed, it was a cleverly conducted escape, Your Majesty. But only three remain at large.”
“It’s been a week!” the king shouted, sweat rolling down his forehead.
“Three prisoners can do nothing. One of them is a cave troll.”
“But one of them is the Minotaur!”
Zindown’s smile grew wider. He leaned forward, his long wrinkled neck lifting his head high above the king.
“Ah, Beltar,” he sighed. “I know it must be stressful to have lost so many prisoners on your watch. Perhaps . . .”
“Stay out of this!” snapped Beltar.
“Yes, these soldiers are your concern alone. I have larger issues on my mind. Perhaps we ought to consider who is behind this trouble.”
“Yes, yes,” the king was practically leaping with each word. “Who?”
“As we know, the prisoners were headed for the forest. I think—”
“I have sent thirty more soldiers to the forest,” Beltar interrupted. “It is all the fort will hold.”
Zindown turned to Beltar, his eyes narrowing in a look so wicked that even Beltar shivered.
“Oh, Beltar, can you not think beyond the pitiful tools of war? Is the truth not plain? There was no break-in at all.
“No one was injured. Not a sword was lifted against a goblin guard. The warden was found five miles away, delirious, in a cow pasture. I suppose, Beltar, you would call that a military strike?”
Beltar glowered at Zindown but held his tongue.
“Send soldiers if you will, but I sense a more powerful hand at work. The king is right to be concerned. Perhaps, Beltar, you should show more respect for his wisdom.”
“These three are nothing!” shouted Beltar.
“Silence!” the king bellowed. Zindown continued.
“Nothing? Perhaps. But these nothings will soon be in the forest beyond the reach of our military might. Perhaps this is no job for a general. Perhaps a visit to Hexenwald is what we need. There we will learn the true nature of the problem we face.”
And with those words, Zindown lifted his black robe and swirled it above his head. A puff of smoke exploded into the air. When it drifted away, Zindown was gone.
• 22 •
Scodo’s Mission
Sesha and Scodo sat together inside her wagon. Around them lay scattered a sea of objects in no particular arrangement. Cooking utensils, small sacks, tiny bottles, magic ingredients, large boxes, pots, bedding, and all sorts of things customers in the nearby villages might buy. Scodo himself was wedged between a box of dried spiders and frogs and a bag of griesonaut teeth that poked at his side.
It was Sesha who spoke the first words.
“A young man named Darrow has broken into the Kirstinnex prison. He has freed Hugga Hugga and Timwee. They are coming to the forest. They will need your protection.”
“I know those two warriors. I fought with them before the palace fell.”
“They are not the warriors you know—not after ten years in Kirstinnex. They can’t protect Darrow. You must join them.”
“If he freed them from Kirstinnex, he will hardly need my help. He must wield a mighty sword.”
“He has never used a sword. He has no experience. Your sword is the one he needs.”
“Why is this important?”
“Because he is coming to save Sonnencrest.”
Scodo blinked.
“Above all, you must not allow the goblins to kill Darrow. I need you to go to Darrow and join his band today.”
“No. I cannot. I will not.”
“And why not?”
“What would happen if I joined? Even if this Darrow accepted me, I would only hurt his cause. Who would march with a monster? Who is willing to look at my face day after day? I have lived this before, and I will not do it again.”
Sesha frowned.
“Then, if you won’t join him, trail him. Follow him. Don’t let him out of your sight.”
“I don’t understand,” Scodo responded. “If he cannot fight and he has never used a sword, how can he possibly save the kingdom?”
“There are plenty who can lift a sword. It is not swords that need lifting.”
“What are you saying?”
“Words, Scodo. Words are the first weapon. Swords alone are not enough. To defeat the goblins, we must lift hearts and hope and spirit.”
“He had better talk fast, Sesha. Against the goblins, neither my sword nor your magic can protect this boy. You know that.”
“Scodo, my dear Scodo,” Sesha responded. “Perhaps you are right. But trust me. Protect him and you may be surprised.”
“I will do my best,” Scodo answered. “But only because you asked.”
Sesha’s face broke into a smile. “Well, my dear Scodo, perhaps this Darrow will have a magic all his own.”
• 23 •
Quinderfill’s Cabin
After resting for several days in the shed, the small band of warriors were on the move again. The path through the forest slowed them down, so Darrow led them across open fields, far from the relative shelter of the trees. He led the way alongside Hugga Hugga; behind them, Naark carried Timwee on his back.
Suddenly, the air filled with the sound of hoofbeats. Across the pasture rode two goblins, swiftly bearing down on the four. There was no hiding now. As the goblins closed in, Darrow could see their long curved swords gleaming in the sun. A screeching howl filled the air. Hearing the war cry, Darrow ran for the trees with Hugga Hugga close behind.
Naark looked to Darrow for orders, but Darrow was already on the run. The troll paused, looking left and right, considering his next move. Then he did something that surprised even the goblins. He gently placed Timwee on the ground, and turning to face the riders, he waited.
Looking back, Darrow saw Naark standing still, and wondered if the troll had given up. Perhaps he was sacrificing himself to allow Darrow to run free. But what of Timwee? Heartsick, Darrow counted two brothers as lost.
The first rider was closing fast. He lifted his sword and screeched once more. Darrow stopped, staring as the horses, seemingly in slow motion, closed upon Naark. The rider rose high in his saddle and leaned toward his target. Calmly, Naark drew back his arm.
As the horse arrived, the nine-foot troll launched his fist directly into the horse’s muzzle. So staggering was the blow that it almost stopped the animal cold. The horse screamed in pain, and the rider was flung into the air, crashing into the ground thirty feet beyond. He lay very still.
The second rider, seeing the fate of his comrade, tried to rein in his panicked horse, but he lost control and flew out of his saddle, landing at Naark’s feet.
Naark could have made short work of the two goblins. Instead, he grabbed them both, one in each hand, and lifted them from the earth. While they shook with fear, the troll carried the two soldiers across the field and into the trees where he tied them together with vines. He returned to the field, lifted Timwee on his back, and followed his comrades into the trees.
A day later, Darrow and his three companions entered Hexenwald Fore
st. Their destination was a cabin that once belonged to a friend of Asterux’s, an old hermit named Quinderfill. Quinderfill spent his life making medicines from a rare mushroom. Once a year, he would travel to the plains to sell his wares to many eager customers. One day, celebrating his good fortune in a tavern, he wandered into the street and lifted his hands as if to address the passersby. But when he opened his mouth, no sound came forth and he fell to the ground, dead.
The old hermit’s demise launched a great commotion, as many believed that Quinderfill had amassed a small fortune. Upon his death, brave men and foolish adventurers entered the forest to find Quinderfill’s cabin and return with his treasure.
Most became meals for bat spiders and griesonauts. Those who survived returned empty-handed, for the cabin was never found. But Darrow held a map, drawn by Asterux, with elaborate directions. The problem was that Darrow could barely understand a word.
“What is a Mestular tree?” Darrow asked. Hugga Hugga and Timwee had never entered Hexenwald. Darrow did not know. Soon they were lost. Remembering his first trip through the forest, Darrow abandoned the road. Without a path, thorns tore at their legs. Timwee and Hugga Hugga trudged with steps that were painfully slow.
The next day, they reached a brook. Hugga Hugga and Timwee collapsed and, after drinking, lay motionless on the ground. Naark curled up beside a tree. Darrow let them rest, but he knew they could not sleep long. The forest was too dangerous for them to remain exposed.
He tried to rouse Hugga Hugga and Timwee, but they would not move. Timwee’s shoulder ached. Hugga Hugga was too tired to move. So Darrow turned to them and spoke: “Tell me about the day the archers fell like rain in the forest.”
Timwee and Hugga Hugga looked up, stunned by the question.
“Tell me,” Darrow repeated.
“It was . . . awful,” Timwee whispered. “They all died.”
Hugga Hugga looked away.