The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)
Page 59
“How’d you meet up with Fennic?” Christopher asked. “And where’s Artemas?”
“At least one of you is interested in my story,” he said, glaring at Molly. “The trolls I had sent to the woods soon came upon Mr. Fennic wandering along the river. They told him I was on my way to Three Frogs. Fennic met me here a short while ago which was a stroke of luck for my part. I’ve had a horrible time prying into the magician’s mind to learn his magical spells, particularly the one to recreate another living me. He resists too much and I needed a break.” Fennic rubbed his forehead as if suffering from a headache. “So I now inhabit Mr. Fennic’s body, though he had little choice in the matter. It is a way to repay me for bungling his last job.”
“Fennic should have had help guarding me in the wilderness last spring,” Christopher said. “Then you wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”
“I’ve learned my lesson,” Fennic replied. “This time I have a troll company guarding Artemas in a nearby cave.” He casually pointed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating a series of caves in one of the curving rocky spurs at the foot of Mount Maricel less than a half mile behind Three Frogs. “I don’t think he’ll be escaping any time soon!”
“Nor will you,” Ulric said, dismounting his horse. He stepped back to get a better view of Fennic. Garrin and Collus did likewise, keeping on either side of the group.
“What are you going to do?” Fennic asked, daring Ulric to make a move. “Capture me? I don’t think so, considering there are only five of you–” Suddenly two groups of six trolls each emerged from around the corner on both ends of the stone formation, armed with wooden clubs and daggers. “–and twelve of them!”
The dozen trolls quickly spread out in a semicircle to prevent anyone from escaping. A couple of the horses grunted and staggered about as the trolls advanced a few steps, their sharp yellow teeth and blazing red eyes intimidating the animals. Some of the trolls were dressed in faded remnants of the old coarse uniforms worn during the time Malaban had established his rule in Solárin. The rest wore animal skins, bits of leather or whatever other material they could make or steal. A few had even fashioned crude caps out of small animal pelts or pieces of rawhide.
Ulric, Garrin and Collus drew their swords as Christopher hopped off his horse. He quickly grabbed the reins of Molly’s steed and led it closer toward Three Frogs to keep her as far away from the trolls as possible. The other horses restlessly followed.
“What are you doing, Chris? I want to stand and fight, too!”
“Don’t worry. You may get your chance,” he softly said to his sister. “Just stay on your horse and wait here against the rock.”
As Ulric and his team stood their ground against the trolls, Fennic released a blistering laugh into the thickening silence. “Oh, I apologize if you misunderstood my earlier comment, but I had only sent a troll company of one to guard Artemas in his cave. A dozen trolls stayed with me to greet all of you while some others are stationed at the base of the mountain to await my orders.”
“You may outnumber us,” Ulric calmly said, “but your trolls are still no match. For their sake, I hope we don’t have to demonstrate.”
“Hmmm, I would enjoy a bit of entertainment right now,” he replied. “But I’d forgo all of that if you’ll simply surrender to my troops. It would make the situation less unpleasant for everyone.”
“We don’t give up that easily!” Christopher shouted as he raced to Ulric’s side. “Haven’t you figured that out by now, Belthasar?”
Fennic scowled. “Humph! Stubborn as usual. In that case, I have no alternative.” He signaled the trolls with a quick nod. “Escort our new prisoners to the caves. And if they resist, you know what to do.”
Several of the trolls laughed heartily while others growled and bared their sharp teeth. Rogus, the tallest troll and apparent leader of the group, raised his club and howled.
“Let’s deal with this nuisance, boys! Take them!”
“I hoped you were going to say that,” Ulric replied, his steely gaze fixed on the troll as he tightened his grip on a raised sword. “Stay behind me, Christopher.”
The trolls advanced one more step in unison, and then another as Ulric, Garrin and Collus cemented their stances. The gray late-morning light dully reflected off their swords. Christopher grabbed two baseball-size stones and shadowed Ulric’s movements, refusing to leave him at such a critical moment. But before anyone on either side could take a first swing, Molly snapped the reins on her horse, kicked in her heels and shouted at the top of her lungs as she bolted toward the center of the troll line. The other four horses burst forth at the same time in different directions, brimming with energy and crying with disdain at the towering enemy.
Like a rising ocean wave, Molly led the mini stampede and crashed through the advancing trolls, busting up the line and creating turmoil among the shocked and angry faces. Christopher and Ulric squeezed between two of the sprinting steeds as the troll in front of them dived sideways and tumbled to the ground to avoid being plowed over. Garrin fled to one side and pursued a fleeing troll as Collus raised his weapon against the club of another troll on the opposite end of Three Frogs. Molly continued to ride about, charging after a troll here and there as the other four horses galloped north toward the grassy plains for safety. Several skirmishes erupted around the rocky terrain at the base of the stone structure. Fennic looked down with rage as the clashing of swords, daggers and clubs filled the air.
“Don’t let them escape!” he cried, pointing a finger in an attempt to direct the trolls in the midst of their battle. “And stop that girl on the horse!”
At that same instant, Ulric spun around to avoid a charging troll, but Christopher saw the enemy advancing like an angry bull and hurled two rocks at his ankles and tripped him up. The troll grunted as he lost his balance and fell forward, crying out in pain as he sailed into the stony ground.
“Nice shot,” Ulric said, pulling Christopher to the side. “But you’ve got to get out of here now!”
“I’m not leaving!” Christopher said, surprised that Ulric would even make such a suggestion. “I can take care of myself.”
Before Ulric could respond, two more trolls barreled toward them. But as Ulric raised his sword and Christopher was about to launch another rock, Molly blasted by on her horse, turning the trolls aside for the moment.
“I’m not worried about your fighting skills,” Ulric said as he and Christopher scrambled around the base of Three Frogs. “I need you to go to the third outpost by the inn. Word must be sent to Solárin at once. King Jeremiah needs to know of the gathering troll army in the woods before they launch their attack to free Morgus Vandar and the others. Send word to Endora as well.”
“You need my help here! I can’t run away!” he shouted, his words filled with hurt and frustration.
“You must go now before it’s too late.”
“But you’re outnumbered. You can’t afford to lose anybody!”
Ulric placed his hands on Christopher’s shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Not to worry. As Artemas might phrase it–I brought along an extra jar of blood beetles,” he said with a wink. “We’ll be fine.” Ulric spun around in the next instant and plowed into a troll who tried to sneak around the rock, sending him to the ground in an unconscious heap. “I heard his heavy breathing,” he casually said as he wiped his brow. “Now are we clear?”
Christopher nodded, realizing that Ulric must have some plan up his sleeve and was merely following his own advice by thinking one step ahead of the enemy. He still wasn’t happy about leaving his sister and friends when the situation looked bleakest, but more lives would be at risk if he didn’t.
“I understand,” he softly said.
“Good,” Ulric replied with a sharp nod before running back to the battle. “I know you won’t let me down!” he shouted, his voice trailing off in the distance.
Christopher took a deep breath and bolted northeast toward the plains, planning
to find the Gray River and follow it back to the third outpost. He hoped he would be fortunate enough to catch up with one of the horses Molly had let loose. It was the only positive thought he could conjure up at the moment, but it didn’t last long. Fennic’s voice rang out like the discordant clang of a rusty bell.
“Don’t let him get away, Rogus! Don’t let him get away!” Fennic cried, jumping up and down and waving his arms. He pointed at Christopher as he fled from Three Frogs. “Stop him NOW!”
Christopher craned his head backward as he raced across the rocky terrain, his heart skipping a beat when he saw an enormous troll bolting after him. He was frighteningly amazed at the speed that the lumbering Rogus could move and wasn’t sure he could outrun him over the short distance. He would never reach the outpost in time with that creature on his back targeting him like an arrow seeking a bull’s-eye. Christopher gulped when he took a second glance, wondering if he’d ever reach the outpost at all as he saw Rogus pull a dagger from his side.
“There’s no escaping!” Rogus cried, raising his arm as he held the dagger firmly in his grasp. “Stop running now–that’s the smart thing to do. Otherwise I’ll take you down like a rabbit. Your choice!”
Christopher breathed heavily, his mind racing faster than his feet trying to figure out how to survive the next few moments. His footfalls pounded the rocky ground like hammers, though he could hardly feel the pain. Then, like a punch to his stomach, Christopher heard Molly scream in the distance. He knew in an instant that it wasn’t one of her dramatic acts. He wanted to turn around and go after her. Suddenly the terrain dipped slightly downhill and Christopher nearly lost his balance. He could see the plains getting closer but knew Rogus would reach him before he could feel the soft grass beneath his boots. Turn around or continue running? He felt doomed in the next few seconds no matter which choice he picked.
“Last chance!” Rogus shouted, his arm lifted high, ready to launch the dagger. His eyes burned red with a devilish fury. “Stop now or I’ll stop you!”
Christopher slowed a bit to keep steady on the downhill, saw Rogus crank his raised arm backward, ready to hurl the dagger while charging full speed, then did the only thing he could do. Christopher skidded to a halt and plunged to the ground just as Rogus was upon him. The troll’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw the boy drop, but as he was still running downhill at a full clip and slightly off balance with his arm raised, Rogus had no choice but to leap over him. Christopher anticipated this and twisted one of the troll’s legs as he flew over, sending Rogus into a tumbling freefall across the rocks. Christopher chuckled when he heard the troll’s enraged cry as he sailed through the air, followed by a string of painful grunts and curses when the troll landed. But what also caught his ear was the metallic clank of Rogus’ dagger falling upon the stone.
Christopher jumped up and saw the dagger lying a few feet away and scooped it up as Rogus struggled on the ground in a twisted heap. But the troll saw Christopher swipe his most prized possession, sending him into a howling rage and giving him the strength to get on his feet in spite of the stinging injuries. Christopher ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
“Give it back!” Rogus hollered as he scrambled up the incline after Christopher.
“Try and get it!” Christopher shouted, not turning around as he ran as straight as an arrow toward the western mountains. Only after several minutes had passed did he dare glance back to see Rogus still in pursuit, but now much farther behind. The troll’s injured limbs and wounded pride had slowed him down considerably.
“That’ll teach you,” Christopher muttered, nearly out of breath. But even though he was heading in the wrong direction, he still ran westward, knowing he couldn’t turn around with Rogus lurking somewhere behind.
Soon the rocky ground transformed into the grassy plains once again as the mountains neared. Mount Maricel towered to his left like a watchful giant as a billowing mass of gray clouds drifted overhead. A small pine forest at the foot of the mountains stood less than a quarter mile away. The invigorating scent of fresh evergreen drifted on a soft breeze, renewing Christopher’s strength and spirit. He decided to take cover in the woods until Rogus was no longer a threat. When all was clear, he would travel north along the edge of the trees until he found the Gray River, follow it east past Willow Lake and beyond until he returned to the Inn of the Twelve Horses and the nearby outpost.
“Easy enough plan,” he muttered to himself as his run slowed to a sluggish walk. His legs felt as heavy as lead as he slipped off his coat to cool down. His breaths were labored and deep as the memory of Molly’s cry echoed in his head. He gazed up at the sky with pleading eyes, hoping all his efforts wouldn’t be in vain.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dramatics
As Christopher approached the edge of the woods, his fear and anxiety eased as the cool sweet fragrance of pine washed over him. He turned around, heartened at seeing no sign of Rogus on the horizon. Christopher concluded that the bruised and angry troll had probably limped back to Three Frogs to face the ire of Belthasar. Whatever his fate, Christopher was delighted to be rid of him. Now he could hike north along the edge of the woods until he reached the Gray River, then follow the water all the way back toward the third outpost. Once he sent word to King Jeremiah and King Rupert about the impending troll raid, he believed there’d be no problem stopping it in its tracks.
He wandered in the shadow of the tall pines. The chirping of sparrows and the lush green of the trees and grass under the majesty of the mountains made the landscape a pleasant place to explore. The perfect location for a daring settler to build a cabin, he decided, until recalling that the area could be crawling with trolls. Maybe the average person wasn’t that daring, Christopher concluded as he hurried along the tree line.
Several minutes later he stopped to rest, sitting against one of the pines as a heavy weariness crept over him. Christopher knew he had to get to the outpost soon, but if he didn’t take a moment to regain his strength, he wouldn’t get anywhere. Though it was almost noontime in Endora, Christopher roughly figured that it was near midnight back home. His body craved sleep even though the light of day tried to convince him otherwise. The urge to close his eyes for a few minutes tempted him, but Christopher knew he couldn’t give in for fear of falling into a deep slumber. So he struggled to his feet and continued his lonely journey to the Gray River.
A cool breeze picked up moments later and revived him, forcing him to put his coat back on. Christopher casually grabbed at some of the pine needles as he brushed past the trees, recalling the living rose that Artemas had magically created in their backyard. Now he was on a mission to save Artemas, uncertain whether the magician could save himself from Belthasar even with all the magic in the world. To make matters worse, he glumly contemplated that Molly, Ulric and the others could very well be prisoners in spite of any backup plan Ulric may have devised. So any notion of a meal or sleep had to be blocked out of his mind. More important things were at stake.
Christopher halted for a moment, wondering if he had heard a noise. A wild animal swishing through the grass? Voices in the breeze? He looked about and placed a hand to his ear but didn’t hear another sound and continued walking, his mind occupied with distant memories to combat his loneliness.
He recalled wandering through the wild early last spring when he had to stop the horseman by the river from signaling Belthasar’s troll army. Back then he was trying to save Endora from an invasion. Now he had to help Solárin from suffering a similar fate. Both times, though, he was weary and alone and felt as if he were battling the world–only nobody knew of his effort or of the danger that encroached upon their lives. He visualized the soldiers and policemen and so many others back home who risked their lives every day. Most of the time he never gave them a thought as he enjoyed life because of the security they provided. As Christopher trudged through the grass, a new respect grew in his heart for all of their unsung effort and sacrifice.
Christopher gulped. Trolls! Some shouting, some guffawing, but every voice cantankerous and miserable. They approached from the north, circling around the edge of the woods toward Christopher and less than a quarter mile away. He slipped into the woods like a rabbit, hoping he hadn’t already been spotted. The undergrowth was minimal this time of year, so Christopher ran deeper into the trees where the shadows would keep him safe. He veered north again, wanting to pass by the trolls as soon as possible. Their voices grew nearer, still situated outside the tree line.
Christopher stood still and silent behind a large pine about thirty yards into the forest. He could see the band of trolls clearly now as they marched noisily along, two dozen total. Most likely joining up with the raiding party, he figured. He waited for them to pass by, breathing a mountainous sigh of relief when they were gone.
Then his heart pounded inside his chest.
The trolls suddenly turned into the woods twenty yards farther away. Christopher could hear them squabbling. He feared they had spotted him and prepared to bolt. But as the trolls’ arguing grew more heated, he realized that they were lost.
“Are you sure this is the spot?” one of them growled.