She was feeling a bit hungry herself and nibbled at the bread she’d carried yesterday. It was stale and gross. She made a face, but then forced herself to keep eating it. Even stale bread was better than nothing on an empty stomach.
As her companion continued to eat, Zaria looked around and noticed for the first time that they appeared to be out of Gloomwood Forest. She’d missed the changing of the trees last night. Gone were the ugly gnarled trees and now all around them were cheerful alders, birches, and spruces.
She fingered the necklace she’d appropriated from the elk yesterday. While tracing the cord she absently bounced on the balls of her feet. She was anxious to get moving. She wanted to rescue Christoffer and find her other friends. The elk stopped eating to stare at her.
“Do we have long to reach the Glomma?”
He went back to pulling up the grasses. Zaria wrinkled her nose but left him alone. If the journey was long he would need his strength. She plucked a dripping icicle from a low hanging branch and greedily lapped at it.
A crack echoed in the forest. It came at the same pitch and resonance as the one last night. Zaria swiveled around trying to pinpoint the spot it came from. It had sounded much closer than last night.
The elk nudged at her insistently, which she took as a hint to get going fast. She clambered onto his back and they were off, flying through the trees. He clearly knew something she did not.
A howl raised gooseflesh on her arms. Zaria gasped. It couldn’t be!
“Oh no!” she moaned, clutching at the elk’s fur. “Please no.”
A horn blew and a din of noise rose up from behind her. Zaria shook her head in disbelief. The Wild Hunt was after her again. Again! She knew they never stopped until their quarry was captured or killed. If only she’d been wrong about that like she’d been about gullibility in trolls.
“Hurry, friend,” she called to him, leaning over his neck, making herself as small as possible.
And hurry he did. They raced toward the rising sun. They darted through trees, clambered over hilly terrain, scampered down sloping valleys, leapt over fallen logs, and ducked under branches. He flew through the landscape as if the hounds of hell were chasing them.
Zaria clung to him for dear life. His run was not a smooth canter like a horse, but his feet were sure and they seemed to be keeping the same distance between them and the hunt. As long as they could do that they could reach the Glomma safely.
Spine-tingling howls and wolf calls echoed all around them in the crisp morning. The elk did not seem to be terrified of them. His pace was determined. He ran without ceasing, and he paused not when the echoes made it seem like they were surrounded.
Zaria looked behind them to confirm their pursuers were nowhere in sight. She spooked when she saw shadowy forms agilely skirting around obstacles. The wolf pack was gaining ground.
She quickly faced front again and squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. She concentrated on the movement of the elk under her. The rhythm lulled her fears. But then he abruptly stopped.
Jerking upright, Zaria glanced around wildly. The elk pranced in agitation under her. Ahead of them dark inkblots melded in and out of the blinding sunlight and slowly coalesced into terrifying snarling forms. The wolves had cleverly surrounded them.
A bugling sound ripped from the stag’s throat, a clear warning. The wolves hesitated briefly before cautiously creeping closer, repositioning for attack, readying to pounce.
When the attack came, the wolf launched at them from their left side. Gnashing teeth and gleaming eyes filled Zaria’s vision. The elk blocked it by knocking it away with his antlers, and nearly knocking her to the ground too. Her heart beat frantically, as the urge to flee clawed its way through her.
Another wolf leapt at them. Zaria shrieked when the elk lunged forward and knocked it backward with a blow from his golden antlers. A wolf snapped at their heels. The stag kicked backward hitting its snout. It was like riding a bucking bronco, but the ride lasted longer than eight seconds. Her teeth jarred in her head.
Then, her friend and protector yelped, prancing in an uneasy circle. She looked down and kicked at a wolf who’d managed to sink its teeth into one of the elk’s haunches. The wolf let go instantly, whining.
An opening appeared in the wolves’ ranks, and the elk attacked. He swept two wolves back using his antlers and charged for the opening that would be their escape. They eked through two springing wolves and plunged to freedom.
Zaria heard how heavy the stag breathed. His breath fogged thickly in the morning air. She worried about the blood running down his legs dotting the snow-covered ground.
She heard the wolves pursuing, and another horn blasted. Looking back she saw the wolves slow and stop. They disappeared from view. Zaria didn’t know if she should be relieved or worried. What would be coming for them next?
Steadying her nerves, she patted the stag encouragingly. Whispering to the noble creature calmed her racing heart. She said many nonsensical things, telling him how strong and brave he’d been. She clutched the necklace in her hand until the sharp edges pierced her skin. They had to be close. They just had to be.
Snow began to fall. The fat white flakes were slow at first, but then built into a stinging flurry. The weather would help hide their escape. It would cover their tracks, maybe even their smell. Wind whispered through the trees and the clinking of icicles grew to a steady clamor. A white-breasted owl screeched, as it took to the sky, startling the pair.
The stag huffed and slumped. Zaria shook him gently. Her limbs felt heavy as the tension left her. “Don’t give up,” she urged. “We can’t stop now.”
The creature’s golden horns dipped downward. He was exhausted. Zaria realized that wolves were sent to wear him down, to allow the rest of the hunting party to catch up to them. She jumped off his back and marched in front of him. She grabbed his face, and this time he didn’t protest, merely huffed. His warm breath slid over her face.
Snow clung to him. She brushed it off, stroking his snout tenderly. “I know you’re tired,” she whispered. “I’m tired too, but we have to keep moving.”
The stag whined in protest. Zaria stroked his neck and sides. She examined his leg. It was still bleeding. She looked around for something to staunch the flow and seeing none didn’t know what to do. But then an idea came to her. Zaria ripped the cord out of the neck of her hoodie and tied it tightly above the wound.
“That’ll have to do,” she told him. “If we don’t get moving the wolves will be back and their masters too.”
A shiver raced down her back. Zaria glanced around looking for the source. Across from her through the flurry emerged a squad of trolls riding great big brown bears. She gulped.
“Too late,” she whispered. “They found us.”
The stag whined and nipped her shoulder. She chanced a look at him. His big caramel-gold eyes gazed at her earnestly. He nipped her again. She didn’t hesitate; she scrambled onto his back as he took off.
“After them!” bellowed one of the trolls.
A horn blast sounded, and the woods erupted in chaos. Zaria and the stag zigzagged through charging bears, flashing weapons, and snapping jaws. Zaria didn’t see how they were going to make it this time. Not surrounded as they were. But the elk moved with jerky determination, flanks, antlers, and hooves carrying them forward.
The tree line broke, and Zaria cried out in joy. Ahead was a river. She hoped it was the Glomma and that at last they had made it. She hunkered down and urged the elk forward. Her vision tunneled. They’d be safe if they could make it to the water. Ice flows floated by on its currents.
Without warning Zaria was knocked off the back of the stag. She landed sprawled in the snow. The elk kept running, splashing into the freezing cold water. He stopped as if realizing he’d lost his charge. Prancing in a circle he turned back to face her. He moved back to the bank.
“No,” she shouted to him, scrambling onto her hands and knees. “Stay back!”
She
lurched forward, only to have her feet yanked from under her. Kicking frantically with her feet, Zaria’s gaze connected with her attacker. A female troll with bulging eyes cackled at her. She kicked again, landing a connecting blow to the troll’s nose. The troll howled in pain, letting Zaria go to clutch her wounded nose.
Zaria was on her feet running toward the stag. Another troll crossed her path. He was burly and carried a multipronged spear. She darted left and he angled his body to block. She darted right, and he repositioned again. Zaria feinted and dove under his legs, skidding headfirst into the water.
She gasped in shock, surging to her feet. Icy water cascaded down her entire body. But she shouted with joy, making her way to the elk. They’d done it. They were safe.
“Come here, Princess,” sneered the troll she’d dodged.
“Not a chance!” Zaria shouted back. She hugged the elk, kissing his snout. “You did it, you big beautiful beast.”
“Hand her over, Olaf,” Jorkden called out as he emerged from the other side of the river.
Zaria spied her friends walking out of the tree line. Filip waved sheepishly at her. His face was scraped pretty badly and one of his eyes was swollen shut. Aleks didn’t look too much better. He leaned heavily on Geirr, favoring his right leg. Geirr’s nose was busted and a trickle of blood dripped down the side of his mouth.
Behind them Yorgish, Groul, and Mangus prodded the boys forward with spears. Other trolls joined them. Soon both sides of the river were crowded with trolls. They yelled and hollered, taunting and saying ugly things.
“Olaf,” Jorkden shouted. “Stop hiding.”
“I be not hiding,” the river-troll jeered nearby. “Jorkden be lacking sight.”
Zaria whirled around to face him. He stood in the water, still in rags and oblivious to the cold. His blue-brown scales shone wetly as if he’d just emerged from the river. Perhaps he had.
* * *
Chapter Twelve: A Bargain Completed
“The little princess be having honor after all,” Olaf said, a pleased expression twisting his ugly features into an even uglier visage. “I knew I could be counting on you doing what be needed to save your friend.”
“Where is Christoffer?” Zaria demanded.
The boys shouted the same thing from the sidelines along the bank of the river. She grimaced when a troll, Yorgish or Groul, whacked Filip on the head. He scowled back and set his mouth in a mulish line, but quieted.
“Hand over the princess,” Jorkden commanded.
Olaf didn’t even look at the mountain-troll. “No. She possesses something I desire.”
Olaf stalked over to her. Zaria held her ground, her hand tightly over the necklace. She wouldn’t give it to him until Christoffer was safe. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“You didn’t answer me,” Zaria said when he stood a foot from her, her elk friend between them.
She studied Olaf. He looked much the same. He was still wicked thin with long limbs and slender webbed fingers. His big ears dwarfed his face and his clothes were still tattered and bald. There was something different though. Zaria couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
She glanced him over again. His perpetually unhappy expression looked odd for some reason. It dawned on her the reason his expression looked odd was because it was happy. Not just happy, gleeful. It gave Zaria the creeps.
“No friend of Princess’ until I be in possession of the Hart,” Olaf admonished.
Zaria stepped around the elk and squared off against him. “No.”
“No?” Olaf said, incredulously. His black eyes narrowed in anger. “No is not a word the little princess wishes to say to me.”
“Just hand her over,” Jorkden sneered. He made a move to step into the water. “She is not your concern. Kafirr wishes to see her.”
Olaf shot him a look of pure contempt. “I not be at full strength, Jorkden, but I be strong enough to make you and your trolden suffer. Do not push me.”
Jorkden’s foot hesitated just above the waterline. Then with determination he placed it in the water. And then he stepped in with his other foot, planting himself defiantly on Olaf’s territory.
“I have my king’s orders, river-troll,” Jorkden said. “The princess is ours as a captive of the Hunt.”
“Your actions be breaking Kafirr’s and mine’s treaty,” Olaf warned. “Leave now while I still let you and believe your actions to be impulsive and something to be ignored.”
“Grab her,” Jorkden yelled, gripping his spear and shifting his stance.
His brigade surged into the water, splashing loudly and yelling ferociously. The wolves and bears stayed behind on the shore. Jorkden pulled back his spear arm and tossed the weapon at Olaf. Zaria ducked instinctively.
She heard a sharp cracking crystalline sound. Looking up she gaped in disbelief. Olaf hadn’t moved an inch. His disdainful expression was familiar. In front of him the spear the mountain-troll threw was held aloft, immobilized by a wave of frozen water. Jorkden’s expression was grim.
Zaria looked at the boys who had been abandoned on the snowbank. They were busily working on the ropes that held them tied together. Her gaze snapped back to the mountain-trolls as their cries and curses rang out in alarm. Some were terrified, their eyes rolling wildly and arms flailing. Like the spear, the trolden had been frozen in place, their feet held in ice blocks.
“Tsk. Tsk,” murmured Olaf.
He plucked the spear out of the air and tossed it back at Jorkden. The mountain-troll tried to dodge and fell backwards, landing awkwardly because he couldn’t move his feet. The spear soared passed him.
Olaf stood over Jorkden, watching him with a nasty expression. He bent over and plucked at Jorkden’s wet and soggy fur vest. When his warty nose was an inch away from Jorkden, Olaf flashed his yellow toothy smile as nasty as Zaria had ever seen him.
“Kafirr controls his mountain and be making it grow your homes. I control my waters. Jorkden of Trolgar, the Dragomir Treaty between us be broke by your actions.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Jorkden spat, his face flushing red with anger even as he sweated.
Olaf dropped him with a splash and laughed, swinging back to Zaria. “I shall flood Trolgar and trap all the deserters in ice. Then with your pathetic excuse of a troll race eradicated I will be gifting Trolgar to Koll and his army.”
A roar of impotent rage burst from Jorkden. His trolden stopped moaning and stared at him. They clearly missed what was said between Olaf and their leader. Zaria watched in silence as Jorkden’s rage faded into bleakness.
Olaf stood before Zaria again. He clapped his hands together. “Where were we? Ah yes, Princess is to be handing over the Hart or her friend be trapped forever in slavery to dwarves.”
“Not until I see Christoffer,” she said stubbornly.
Olaf tilted his head. “You not be in position to be making demands, Princess.”
Zaria folded her arms. Her ankles were wet and freezing. She was tired. She was hungry. She was not amused.
“Are we at an impasse?” she asked Olaf. “I have what you want, but I will not hand it over until I see the whites of Christoffer’s eyes.”
“That will be tough, Princess,” Olaf said silkily. “He be safely hidden away near Fredrikstad.”
“Not my problem,” Zaria replied. “I met the criteria of your demands. I am here with the heart and I want my friend. How do you propose to confirm with me Christoffer’s freedom and safety?”
She looked over at the boys. Filip gave her a thumbs-up. The others nodded. She had their support. No bargain would be completed without all parties present.
Olaf mulled things over quietly, looking at her elk companion. Finally he said, “How about a compromise, Princess?”
“No way!” Aleks shouted. “No more bargains!”
Olaf held a hand up to silence him. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on Zaria. “I will show you that your friend be safe. I will also show you his release. I not be bringing him here. I
t be not so easy to do.”
“How can you do that?” she asked, suspicious.
Olaf cackled and bent low. He trailed a single finger in the water. The water sprung up and shaped a clear pedestal with a bowl. It looked sort of like a birdbath if a birdbath was lopsided and covered in spikes. He beckoned Zaria closer. She splashed over with reluctance. She did not want to stand near him.
“Look here,” he told her and pointed to the water in the crystalline bowl.
She looked and gasped.
“What is it?” Filip called out. He budged Aleks forcefully away as his friend tried to lean over him for a better look.
“I see Christoffer,” she shouted back. Her face split into a grin. “He’s all right.”
Geirr frowned. “How do we know this is really Christoffer? And that you’re showing him as he is now?”
Olaf scoffed. “Do you think to be communicating with him? This be a parlor trick, not a way to communicate. I be able to show anything in my territory with water from my river.”
“I don’t like it,” Aleks said. He didn’t trust Olaf and frankly neither did Zaria.
Olaf glared at him. “Princess,” he spit out. “Do you agree to complete the bargain? Will you hand over the Hart?”
Zaria bit her lip. She looked for help from the boys. Filip shrugged. Aleks shook his head. Geirr frowned. She looked back into the bowl at Christoffer. His surroundings were indistinct and featureless. He looked bored, but unharmed. Zaria looked at Olaf and nodded.
“You must be saying it out loud,” Olaf prodded, reaching out eagerly.
“Don’t be a fool,” Jorkden warned her, some of his verve returning.
“You not be speaking,” Olaf growled. “Princess, say it. Complete the trade and your friend be freed. Do not, and I will hand him over to the slave markets.”
While Zaria hesitated, Jorkden sat up with a splash and with a grunt of triumph pulled a foot free from its icy trap. His skin was blue and dark from frostbite. He’d lost his shoe; it was still stuck in the remains of the ice block.
Secret of Gloomwood Forest Page 10