The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “Ain’t stupid, you know!” another shouted back among the general grumbling.

  “Should have entered the woods once we came out of the mountains!” another troll gruffly suggested. “Whose brainless idea was it to walk around the trees?”

  Happy that the trolls hadn’t spotted him, but definitely too close for comfort, Christopher plowed deeper into the woods, taking each step quickly and quietly, keeping hidden behind a tree as often as possible. He could still see the gray light of day streaming in along the edge of the woods, though little light filtered down through the treetops. Christopher had secured Rogus’ dagger inside his belt and now drew it out, clutching the handle as he held it to his side. He wasn’t quite sure how to wield the weapon if it ever came to a fight and hoped he wouldn’t have to find out.

  He was sorry he had never asked Ulric for a lesson in sword fighting. Escaping trolls in a castle was one thing, but facing them while vastly outnumbered in the wilderness was a whole other ballgame. He was slightly amused as he plunged deeper into the trees, imagining Molly lecturing him that no amount of technical reasoning or scientific theory would get him out of this mess. Perhaps she was right, he admitted, but he couldn’t imagine her theatrical displays working any better either. Right now running away from danger seemed the best bet as he weaved among the trees and over a soft cushion of pine needles and dried twigs. But moments later he stopped dead in his tracks. His lungs froze. His stomach knotted up. More voices!

  “Where were they coming from now?” he wondered. Voices whirled in the darkness, a mix of gruff whispers and guttural complaints, some in the distance, others from behind, until finally Christopher couldn’t pinpoint their origin. He felt disoriented and in danger as he continued to run, unsure where he was going as the minutes ticked by. The light on the edge of the woods disappeared as he burrowed into the deepening gloom, wanting only space between himself and the hideous echo of voices.

  Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead as he dodged the trees and groping branches. Christopher felt he was blindly running through chaos, nearly suffocating in the darkness. He wished only to be free in the open air and the light of day. Then the hint of a red glow caught his eye at the same instant he tripped over a sprawling tree root.

  “Aaahh–!” he shouted, his cry cut short as he stumbled headfirst between two hulking figures onto the cold damp dirt. The scent of pungent pine needles filled his nostrils. He skidded on his left side, bruising his arm and wrist while still clutching Rogus’ dagger in his right hand. He scrambled to his feet, suddenly aware of the bright flicker of firelight that reflected off the eighty pairs of eyes staring back at him. Christopher stood slightly off balance next to a bonfire surrounded by a ring of mountain trolls, all gazing in stunned curiosity at the new arrival.

  Christopher instinctively raised the dagger as he scanned the monstrous faces–a frightening display of sharp teeth, blood red eyes and dark leathery skin. The trolls breathed heavily and raised their clubs and daggers. One of the mountain creatures grunted and started to laugh.

  “You and that dagger aren’t going to escape us!” the troll said, wickedly grinning at his companions.

  Christopher knew that only too well as he gazed at the creatures, seemingly in a dream. He could hear his heart beating. He could see the faces of his family. He had no idea what to do except stand there and wait for the wave of trolls to overtake him. Christopher wondered how Molly might escape, though believing that no amount of dramatics could save him. He knew brawn was required now, but realized he hadn’t the strength or skill to fight his way out.

  He was on the verge of giving up, ready to hand over the dagger, when he noticed that one of the trolls in front looked vaguely familiar. The creature wore a ragged leather vest with several dried squirrel bones attached to it for ornamentation. Christopher wondered where he had seen him before as he gazed into the troll’s eyes.

  “What are you looking at, little mouse?” the troll bellowed, his face knotted in a deadly scowl.

  Another troll grinned. “He is a mouse compared to us giants. And we eat mice for breakfast!”

  The trolls burst out in riotous laughter as Christopher looked on, suddenly realizing where he had seen and heard that troll before. It was Bolo, one of the two guards who had nearly captured him, Artemas and Mr. Smithers as they hid in the curtained alcove in Malaban’s chamber during Princess Rosalind’s rescue. Artemas had later knocked out Bolo and the second guard with a sleeping potion at the bottom of a staircase where they had been trapped. He assumed Bolo fled back to the mountains after Malaban’s defeat. Christopher continued to gaze at him, a flurry of thoughts dancing in his mind as a plan quickly took shape.

  “Do I have to tell you one more time?” Bolo complained. “Stop staring at me! You’re already as safe as a fly in a swamp full of hungry frogs. Don’t make it worse for yourself by annoying me–or by pointing that dagger at us! You don’t want to see us when we get really mad. It’s not a pretty sight!”

  “That attitude is more like it!” Christopher snapped. “I thought you trolls had gone soft on me.” He narrowed his eyelids and grimly smiled. “And as for this dagger? I have no intention of threatening you with it.” He casually tossed the knife a foot into the air so that it did a somersault and caught it by the handle. Then he held the blade between his fingers and extended his arm, offering the knife to Bolo. “I intend to give it to you, hoping you won’t lose it like its previous fool of an owner!” Christopher boldly marched toward the troll, eyeing Bolo as he shoved the dagger handle at him. “If you ever run into Rogus, you tell that incompetent bungler of a troll that he’ll be scraping the mud off my boots the next time he works for me because that’s the only job he’ll ever get! Can you remember that, Bolo, or must I print it on a piece of pine bark for you?”

  Bolo growled as he grabbed the knife. He was ready to attack Christopher with a raised fist, but a hint of confusion registered in his and the other trolls’ eyes. “How’d you know my name?” he demanded. “And where’d you get Rogus’ knife?”

  Christopher stomped around in the circle of trolls, his voice mimicking the tone of a whining child. “How’d you know my name? Where’d you get Rogus’ knife?” Christopher stopped and gently rapped his knuckles against the side of his head. “Hello! Anybody in there? Are you dunderheads even paying the least bit of attention? Do you even know who you’re talking to? Or must I get a second piece of pine bark, sit you all down like school children and draw you a map? I thought I recruited the best trolls the mountains had to offer when I met you on my way to Three Frogs early this morning.”

  “We met with Belthasar, not you!” another troll shouted. “Belthasar was inside the body of that old bearded magician.”

  Christopher dropped his chin to his chest, slapped his hands over his head and sighed. “Must I spell it out for you?” he muttered, raising an eye at the perplexed troll. A few others scratched their heads while some in back of the crowd whispered among themselves. “Can you work with me just a little bit, people?”

  Bolo stared unblinkingly at Christopher, tilting his head slightly. A hint of a crooked smile formed on his face. “Are you–Belthasar?”

  Christopher dropped to his knees and raised his arms to the treetops. “Green grasshoppers and chicken feathers–he finally understands! There’s some gray matter in that noggin of yours after all!” Christopher jumped to his feet and grinned triumphantly as several of the trolls continued to exchange mystified glances with each other.

  “Our leader is back!” Bolo explained, nodding his head. “Only this time as a young boy.” He eyed Christopher with a hint of uncertainty still in his voice. “But why?”

  “Why? Why?” Christopher pointed to the dagger he had just given Bolo. “Because thanks to the reckless actions of our featherbrained friend, Rogus, our plan to rescue Morgus Vandar from King Jeremiah’s prison has been skewered like a roasted squirrel on a stake!”

  “I like roasted squirrel!” commented a
troll as he noisily licked his lips.

  “Quit talking food!” another troll shouted as he pointed an accusing finger at Christopher. “Just how do we know if Belthasar is really inside this boy?”

  Christopher spun around and fearlessly barreled at the troll like a steaming bull, grabbed him by the wrist and held up the creature’s leathery hand. The troll looked on wide-eyed and speechless as Christopher glared at him, his jaw clenched and his grip tight like a vice.

  “This boy I’m inside was one of King Rupert’s spies who tried to disrupt my plans at Three Frogs when his warriors attacked!” Christopher said, his voice forceful yet steady. “And when Rogus carelessly mentioned that a band of trolls was secretly gathering inside these woods, this boy tried to break away to get word to King Jeremiah. A few others in his party escaped too and are no doubt sending out warnings as we speak. So I pursued this boy while inside Fennic and captured him, deciding to use his swift feet to get here as fast as I could to warn all of you, thank you very much!” Christopher looked with contempt at the troll whose wrist he still clutched, a mounting disgust in his voice clearly audible. “I knew this boy would be a much faster runner than Fennic, and certainly much faster than any of the trolls.” Christopher stood on his tiptoes in an attempt to stand face to face with the towering troll, intimidating him like a drill sergeant. “But since I have now warned everyone that we have to change our plans, I no longer need to remain inside this boy! Perhaps I could use you as my next host?” he asked, squeezing the troll’s wrist even tighter. “It’ll only take a second for my spirit to inhabit you, and the others certainly won’t care. And it would be such a favor to me.” Christopher slowly raised his eyebrows. “So tell me, swamp breath, how does that strike you as a plan? Are you now convinced that I’m really Belthasar–or should we put it to the test?”

  The troll leaned back as far as he could and rapidly shook his head. “No! No! No need to go that far, Belthasar. Of course it’s you! I– I didn’t know what I was saying. Ignore the words of a simple-minded troll. I meant no disrespect.”

  “Perhaps coming down from the thin mountain air has clouded your critical thinking skills,” Christopher calmly said, lessening his grip. “It must take time to get used to all the extra oxygen in the forest.”

  “I– I guess,” the troll said with a shrug, offering an awkward and anxious smile.

  “Well, then, no harm done. At least this time,” he replied, releasing the troll and stepping back into the center of the circle as the flames of the bonfire crackled. The fiery red and orange glow reflected off Christopher’s face as the trolls looked upon him with a newfound fear and respect.

  “So what will we do now?” Bolo dared to ask after a few moments of tense silence. “Are you killing our plan to attack King Jeremiah’s prisons?” Many of the trolls grumbled when Bolo suggested such an idea.

  “On the contrary,” Christopher serenely responded, stretching out his upturned palms as if the answer was obvious. “This is an opportunity for us if only we look at it from the proper angle. King Jeremiah will expect us to abandon our scheme once he gets word of it. But we’re not going to do that.”

  “We’re not?” someone asked.

  “Oh no! We’re going to modify the plan just a bit,” Christopher replied, moving about the circle of trolls as if he were a basketball coach explaining the next play to his team. “A little switch here, a little change there–and ta da! We have a new scheme.”

  One troll leaned over and whispered into the ear of the one standing next to him. “Grut, what is ta da?” Grut glanced back, scratched his head and shrugged as Christopher explained the revised plan of attack.

  “Now listen up!” Christopher said with a clap of his hands. “We’re going to grab victory from the jaws of defeat! Make lemonade from a bushel of rotten lemons! Rip a silver lining out of every cloud that comes our way! You all understand?” The trolls nodded vigorously among a ripple of shrugs, head scratching and raised eyebrows. “Good! Now does everyone know where the Alorian River is located?”

  “Of course!” Bolo said, looking as if Christopher had asked him to point out the sky.

  “And you also know the location of a large outcrop of rocks along a bend in that river?” he said, visualizing the place where he had stopped the horseman from sending the smoke signal.

  “I know that spot,” Bolo quickly added. “I could find it in the dark if I had to.”

  “That’s the attitude I like!” Christopher replied, pumping his fist. “But can you find it in secret, avoiding all villages and travelers on your way there?”

  “We can do anything,” another troll said. “But why would we want to do that?”

  Christopher wearily sighed. “To–keep–our–mission–a–secret!” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Yeah! Pay attention!” Bolo snapped at the troll before glancing at Christopher apologetically. “Go ahead, Belthasar. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “I’m glad you did, Bolo. That shows me you have the intelligence and cleverness to lead this new mission.”

  Bolo’s eyes widened as he stood up straight with pride. “You want me to lead it?”

  “You bet I do!” Christopher said. “I trust your judgment, Bolo. In fact, I want you to pick two other trolls before you leave to be your seconds-in-command. I need only the best trolls I can find to help me establish my new kingdom of Belthasaria. And after that is accomplished, I will take over Endora and Solárin as well, finally making it into one grand kingdom!”

  The trolls cheered when they heard this, raising their daggers and clubs into the air and howling like wolves. After a long and arduous winter, they were ready for some adventure in their lives, and conquering the two kingdoms once and for all was what they wanted to do more than anything else.

  Christopher described the details of his new plan, instructing Bolo to lead the trolls to the bend in the river and wait there for a special messenger who would provide him with the specifics about raiding King Jeremiah’s prisons. Bolo nodded as he carefully listened, eager to please Belthasar with his loyalty and attention to detail. Christopher sensed that the troll was trying to curry favor with him, so he made one last pitch to secure his trust.

  “And if all goes according to plan, I will need some other men–or even trolls–to help manage my kingdoms,” Christopher said with a gleam in his eyes. “Bolo, how would you like to be the chief guard of Belthasaria? Or perhaps Prince Bolo of Endora? I do so like to reward those who are loyal to me.”

  “Bolo at your service!” was all he could say, stepping forward with a stony expression as visions of power and riches swirled in his head. At this moment he was prepared to lead his fellow trolls across the Katánin Mountains if Belthasar had asked him.

  “Excellent!” he said. “And the same offer goes for all of you. Give me your best and you could all be princes of Endora or Solárin. The sky’s the limit as to the rewards awaiting you!” he shouted, jumping up and down and raising both fists in the air like a champion prizefighter before waving them off. “Now fly to the Alorian River to await my messenger! Run as fast as the swiftest horse and be as invisible as the wind! Let’s goooooooooo!”

  “You heard him, troops!” Bolo cried as the other trolls bellowed and roared like a pack of wild animals. “Follow me!”

  They marched behind Bolo through the shadowy pines. Christopher watched them depart like a herd of buffalo as he stood next to the bonfire, his heart beating like a drum. He took a few steps backward and leaned against a tree, eyeing the trolls as they exited the woods and flew east under the gray light of day. When they were at last out of his sight, Christopher exhaled like a deflating balloon, sliding down the tree until he sat on the ground. His mind burst with exhilaration, knowing that he had pulled off such an elaborate deception. If only Molly could see him now.

  He started to laugh, gazing up at the treetops while on the brink of exhaustion. But Christopher knew he couldn’t savor his victory for too long since he had
to send word to King Jeremiah about where to find and capture the deluded band of trolls. How he would love to stand there by the river to watch it all unfold.

  “That was quite a performance,” said a voice in the darkness. “The real Belthasar would be impressed had he seen it.”

  Christopher jumped to his feet. He reached for the dagger at his side when he realized that Bolo now had it. He grabbed a burning branch from the bonfire and held it in front of him.

  “Who’s there?”

  Two figures slowly emerged from the shadows and walked toward the snapping flames. The firelight reflected off their gruff countenances. Christopher felt his heart grow cold when he recognized the faces. They were two of the six men he and Molly had spotted eating breakfast at the Inn of the Twelve Horses.

  “I just can’t catch a break,” Christopher muttered.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Scientific Approach

  “Quit dragging your feet, pesky one! I have better things to do than cart you around from cave to cave,” the troll complained. He led Molly to one of the many entrances in the curving rocky spur at the base of Mount Maricel, a half mile west of the Three Frogs formation.

  “If you want something better to do, try a long walk off a short pier,” Molly said as she marched along the stony terrain.

  “Huh?”

  “Think about it, brainiac,” she muttered under her breath.

  A few minutes later they neared a cave opening. Another troll sat guard, relaxing on a flat boulder that served as a seat. A large wooden club leaned against the stone and a dagger was strapped to the troll’s side. He grunted when seeing the pair approach.

  “Another one!” he growled, standing up and throwing Molly a cursory glance. His sharp teeth and blood red eyes intensified the scowl on his face. “I’m busy enough!”

  “Yeah, you look like you’re working hard, Zrugga!” the troll replied with a grunt, pushing Molly toward the cave entrance.