The Gnome's Children-Book #1 Bright Star Journals

by Byron Calhoun

the distant noises from the castle and city. The city walls loomed overhead and the travelers well all terrified lest a guard should see them. There were lights going on all over the city.

  “How are we going to get across the river?” wondered Heather to herself.

  They traveled rapidly for perhaps a half a mile or so until they came to a large bridge over the river.

  “Whoowhoo, hurry up, good travelers, or the river will soon be alight,” announced Twittlefeather.

  The owls had cleverly arranged for their friends, the beavers and muskrats, to build several two person rafts and place them in the reeds under the large bridge over the river.

  How are we going to row without oars?” inquired Edward.

  “Toowhoo, always questions little man-cub. Why the beavers will tow you across like a ferry, of course, while we owls create a small diversion for you!” answered the owl.

  He flew up and the raft loading began in earnest.

  “Mice, owls, beavers, muskrats, what next?” muttered the Prince under his breath.

  One half the company was soon loaded on the rafts and on their way across while the other half waited on the bank. Above on the bridge, pandemonium was reigning. There were screams, shrieks, and oaths as the fugitives heard the owls attacking the watchman on the bridge. Soon, they heard the twang of arrows and screams of anger. A single owl came twirling down to the water and feebly fought only to go under the surface. Edward saw this and immediately shed his shoes and shirt diving into the water. He was a superb swimmer at home and soon reached the spot where the owl had gone under. He took a deep breath and dove down. There were several tense seconds until he broke the surface with the owl in tow, sputtering and gasping.

  Edward pulled him out of the water and assessed his damage. The arrow had pierced the owl’s wing and given him a nasty cut on the side but he would survive.

  “Tha-thank you man-cub. You saved my life and I owe you a debt of gratitude,” sputtered Softdown the owl.

  “Think nothing of it, good owl. You and your brothers are risking your lives for us right now. Consider it sort of a repayment.”

  The owl was then tended to by some of the friendly muskrats who promised to let him dry out and help Softdown get help to his woods. The battle above continued and the rafts returned from their first ferrying. The second group boarded the boarded the rafts and crossed over without incident. Edward was soaking wet but fortunately it was a warm evening so he was not too cold. He knew he would soon warm up as they had a long march ahead of them.

  Twittlefeather appeared again and led them hurriedly down the river bank, away from the city. When they had gone almost a mile he turned to them and pointed up the bank. They scrambled uip the bank and stood on a dike which was a retaining wall for the river. Before them stretched a moor that was dimly lit in the moon light.

  Twittlefeather said, “Here we part company, my good friends and your majesty. This little rabbit will be your new guide and we owls will be your guards. So nothing can catch you unaware.”

  The rabbit was indeed small for a Logoland rabbit, but larger than our rabbits. He stood about the size of a small terrier.

  He introduced himself and said, “I am Quickfoot the rabbit with the most endurance of my hutch. We will need endurance, for tonight we go far. I am proud to be of service to your majesty, Prince Logosian.”

  “The pleasure is mine, noble Quickfoot,” stated the Prince with a grave bow.

  “We must start then sire. We have over fifteen miles left to go and less than six hours of darkness to do it in. We dare not be caught in the moors in daylight. There are spies and enemy patrols all over this area in the day. At night, with the owls and bears about, they dare not be too bold.”

  The party traveled on without incident for about two hours. Everyone withdrew into his own thoughts and some of the travelers were almost asleep on their feet, they were so tired. Heather was especially weary after all her excitement. In spite of this, Quickfoot was a constant encourager and prodder of stragglers. His energy seemed boundless as he scurried ahead to show the way and then scampered around the party lifting their spirits. He really was a very cheerful and long-enduring rabbit.

  Suddenly, the quiet of the night was split by snarls of rage and the high pitched screams of the owls! Immediately, the party came awake and the sound of swords coming from scabbards grated in the night.

  Groundfirm took control and yelled, “Into a circle with your backs to each other. Let whoever it be feel the sharpness of yer blades.”

  The troup rapidly assembled and set Quickfoot with Heather into the center, out of harms way. Heather huddled next to the rabbit and was near tears with fright. Quickfoot, on the other had, was aquiver with the excitement of impending battle. He was not only noted for his endurance, but also for his reckless and aggressive actions which were uncommon in the gentle rabbit people.

  Out of the dark gloom came a sight to make even the stoutest hearts in the company sink. Before them ran into view the deadly night hunters of the Vizier: the black wolves of the plains. These talking animals gone bad, stood about the same height as a small pony and often weighed over one hundred and fifty pounds. They were noted for their great cunning and ruthless savagery. There would be no hope of surrender from these beasts. The wolves were led in a circling wave by their leader, Darkfang. Their eyes gleamed red in the dim moonlight and their white fangs flashed as their lips curled back in hideous howls.

  The party braced for the onslaught and the charge met the line of men with a sickening crash. The din of battle became deafening and Heather shrank even more against the rabbit. The men fought desperately but lacked enough light to fully use their swords. Suddenly, from Heather’s harp came the unearthly golden-blue glow that had lighted their path in the passageway. The men, now with adequate light, redoubled their efforts. However, the wolves in their cunning had decoyed part of the line and had a small opening. Straightway, Darkfang, their leader, slipped through along with three or four others. He and his lieutenant headed for Logosian while the others set upon the men and rabbit.

  “Kill the Prince and we’ll be well rewarded by the Vizier,” snarled Darkfang. He rushed at the Prince, but Logosian turned in time to see his rush. At the same moment, Edward heard Darkfang’s snarl and leapt in front of the Prince, directly in Darkfang’s path. The dark wolf lept at Edward with an awful howl and Edward devised a lightening plan. He swept his shield on his left arm before the wolf who approached from his unprotected right. Then, Edward dropped his outside left leg and went to his knees. The momentum of the two hundred pound wolf drove him almost flat to the ground, but he managed to generate enough momentum to sweep the wolf off his feet. Then, with his right hand free, he slashed with his sword and gravely wounded the dark leader. In a split second, the wolf was over on the ground and Edward finished him; but not before he felt the wolf’s wrath and received a nasty cut on his lower leg.

  The lieutenant, in the meantime had overpowered Logosian, who had lost his shield. With his initial rush he threatened to catch Logosian by the throat. Instead of the death grip, he leapt in the air with a howl of pain and proceeded to expire next to the Prince with a long arrow completely through his heart. Groundfirm had prudently taken a bow and quiver from the arsenal in the castle and proceeded to wreck havoc on the wolves. His bow string literally sang as he dispatched wolves all around the perimeter. The Prince waved a feeble thank you but had no time to sit, for the other wolves who broke through, were chasing Quickfoot around the circle while Quickfoot screamed for help. Groundfirm had already left as he was needed on the other side of the circle to help drive off the counter attack.

  Quickfoot was a brave rabbit, but no match for fangs, unarmed. Logosian and Edward sprang to his aid with a roar. They managed to distract the rabbit and get him to run between them. The wolves, enraged at being denied their prey, came after the two boys. Both were ready this time, although Logos
ian still lacked a shield. Edward fought his wolf with skill and finesse. The boys fenced and parried back and forth. They were a marvel to watch. The wolves slashed and danced trying to overbalance the two. Logosian had the worst of it because he had to rely on his sword alone for his defense. Finally, Edward caught his wolf off-balance, buried his blade deeply and dispatched the wolf. He ran to help Logosian and the two made short work of the last wolf, but only at the expense of a deep slash on Logosian’s arm. All around the boys the sounds of battle began to die away. Heather’s light grew dimmer and they were left in the dim light of the Second Moon.

  Heather had remained unscathed as the wolves dared not approach her as long as the golden-blue light shone. The departing snarls and howls of the wolves were heard in the distance. Logosian recovered first and wehnt around assessing each man’s wounds and condition. They had been amazingly fortunate in the battle. Most of the men were unscathed and only Duke Swalesfellow had a nasty enough cut to require dressing. The enemy; however, had not been so lucky. Scattered around the company lay a score or more bodies of the black wolves, including their dark leader and his lieutenant.

  Groundfirm observed, “They’ll be sore missed by the Vizier in the times ahead.