Red Rowan: Book 2: All Gone, the Gods

by Helen Gosney

  “Gods... I’m glad we don’t have to feed them every day!” Cris laughed as the food quickly disappeared. He was a good eater himself in spite of his small stature, but these youngsters could easily out-eat him.

  “Troll children do have good appetites usually. Maybe these two are still too shy to eat properly,” Moss said solemnly, then he chuckled at Cris’s shocked face.

  Later, with everyone fed and dry, they set off down the valley again, with Varla and Venn perched happily on Bess’s back. The rain had stopped and the sun was trying hard to shine through the low clouds.

  “Do you think their people will be looking for them yet? They must have been missed by now, surely...?” Rose said, looking around.

  “Aye, we might meet them halfway down the valley, perhaps,” Rowan replied, smiling as Varla suddenly reached over to him and patted his hair.

  Moss laughed. “‘Firehair’, she called thee... She has never seen hair of that colour before, nor hair so long. For some reason we trolls can’t seem to grow it much below shoulder-length. Now, if thou wilt all wait here a moment, I will find out if anyone is coming,” he said, walking away a little distance, “Hold tightly onto thy horse though, she might not like it much.”

  When he was sure that Rowan had a good hold on Bess, and he judged that he was sufficiently far away that he wouldn’t alarm her too much, Moss threw back his head and cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a strange wailing cry. He listened carefully for a few moments, and then cried out again.

  “Gods! What a weird noise... and the echoes...” Rose said, “But at least Bess didn’t seem to mind it too much.”

  “No, she was fine, she’s a good, sensible little mare. But, you know, I’m not sure that all of those are echoes...” Rowan said thoughtfully.

  “No, thou art right. Their family is already coming for them... see, there...?” Moss pointed to the end of the valley, where they could just see several large shapes coming past the last waystation.

  In a short time the group of mountain trolls had almost reached them. There were three of them, two she-trolls and one male, and they were all enormous. The smallest of them was probably taller than Moss, though less broad, and the huge male was nearly twice as tall as Cris and built like a walking mountain.

  The smallest troll ran forward and hugged the troll twins, speaking to them anxiously; then she looked at Varla’s bandaged knee, listened to the youngsters’ excited chatter for a moment, hugged them again, and turned to face Moss and the others.

  She said something to Moss that Rowan couldn’t quite understand, and he replied gently, indicating Rowan, then Rose and Cris. She smiled down at them, then suddenly looked at the twins very closely, an amazed expression on her face. She reached down and clasped Rowan’s hand in both of hers.

  “Thank ye, my friend, thank ye for finding my babies,” she said in a light baritone voice, “I could not believe they had gone... we searched the trollhall and... and they weren’t there... and there was all that rain... and... and I thought I had lost them, that they would fall on the slopes and…” she faltered and her lovely green eyes were misted with tears.

  “’Tis all right, don’t cry now,” Rowan said, “They’re fine, though poor little Varla has hurt her knee. But they’re fine, truly.”

  The other two trolls had come up to them as Rowan and the she-troll were speaking and Moss quickly told them the story of the youngsters’ adventure.

  The big male troll bent down and said in his deep basso voice, “I thank ye all for finding these little ones, and for looking after them so well... little pests that they are!” he looked fondly at the young trolls, who grinned back at him, “Of course they do know better than to go looking for mushberries in the rain, but I think that they truly wanted to have a good look at ye all. I hope ye did not let them eat all of your supplies,” he added with a big smile. He knew the hearty appetites of his offspring all too well.

  “Ye must come back with us to our hall, let us thank ye properly... and we have not even told ye our names. I am Marna,” the smaller she-troll said, “And this is my sister Ella, and my mate Shale.”

  The mountain trolls led the way back to the end of the valley; they turned to the left and were walking a little ahead of the others when they suddenly seemed to disappear into the rocky wall.

  “Gods! How did they manage that?” said Rose with a gasp.

  “I’ve got no idea... ah! I see... how clever,” Rowan replied, walking a little further and turning back to look behind him. There was a large slab of granite beside him - if one looked at it from immediately in front, or from the direction they’d been coming, it appeared to be solid; but from where Rowan now stood, he could see that there was a split in the rock, a flaw perhaps, and beyond that a tall passageway that led into the darkness behind the rock face.

  “Amazing... no wonder we didn’t see it yesterday,” Cris said, “You can really only see it from that one spot. But what about Bess? Will she fit in there?’

  “If Shale did, Bess will!” Rowan laughed, “But I think she’d probably be happier out here.”

  “I will carry the little ones,” Moss volunteered, just as Marna reappeared through the rocky split.

  “My apologies, my friends. We were further ahead of you than we realised. And I forgot ye did not know... how stupid of me!” Marna said with a smile, “Ye must have wondered where we had suddenly gone... and I am sure these little monsters did not tell ye!”

  No, the little trolls hadn’t, but they were probably wondering why their new friends were standing around looking puzzled when, to them at least, the entrance to their home was plain to see.

  Marna lifted Venn down from Bess’s back and he immediately ran into the passageway and disappeared. Moss picked up Varla and followed him; although the cleft looked very narrow, he had no difficulty in passing through it.

  “Come, my friends, your little horse will be safe out here... or ye could bring her in if ye prefer. No? Then follow me, if ye will, and be welcome in the Trollhall of the Stoneforest Clan,” Marna said as she led the way into the rockface.

  **********

  30. “… telling their tale to a rapt audience.”

  The passageway went behind the granite slab for about ten paces, and then turned to the left. It was dim initially, but as their eyes adjusted, they could see quite well by the light of the low burning torches set into the walls. They went for a further fifty or so paces before the passageway opened suddenly into the trollhall, and all of the travellers stopped and gazed about them in wonder.

  They were in an immense space, fairly well lit by torchlight and the natural luminescence of multi-coloured fungi and mosses that grew in great clumps on the walls. The far end of the cavern was almost lost in the distance, and there were huge, well-spaced columns of rock that supported the ceiling. These were carved to resemble trees, massive trees with strong branches reaching upwards, with carved leaves and flowers and here and there a small bird or animal peering through the foliage or clinging to the granite trunks. The branches intertwined far above their heads to form a beautiful leafy roof. It truly felt like standing in a vast forest of stone.

  Along the walls of the cavern were several huge arched doorways with smaller caverns beyond, and in the corner nearest them was the glimmer of clear water in a deep pool surrounded by a waist-high wall. Over to one side they could see a long fire pit with smoke disappearing up a natural rocky flue, and curled up asleep in front of it were two huge cave cats that looked uncannily like a pair of enormous Tim Mousers. The floor of the cavern was smooth and level, and among the great pillars were numbers of boulders carved to resemble bushes and shrubs, and groups of large chairs and couches and piles of leather cushions.

  Marna led the way to the nearest of these, where some twenty or so cheerful trolls were standing around talking noisily. In the middle of the group, a grizzled old troll was seated on a cushioned stone chair, with little Venn perched on his knee. This troll was a little smaller th
an the mighty Shale, and his best years had nearly slipped by him, but he was still strong and active, and he rose to his feet easily as the travellers approached him. He carefully stood Venn on the seat of his chair and spoke to them in a deep, dusty voice.

  “My friends, be welcome to our trollhall. I am Basalt, First of the Stoneforest Clan... and I thank ye most sincerely for finding our little ones, and for taking care of them as ye have,” he smiled and added, “Nuisances though they both are sometimes, still we would not want to lose them.”

  Moss placed Varla in his arms and the little she-troll threw her arms around his neck and gave him a rather sloppy kiss on his whiskery cheek. Basalt grinned with pleasure and sat down again, with both troll twins happily making themselves comfortable and telling him of their adventures.

  “Twins are very, very rare among our kind,” Marna said quietly, still astounded at finding that Rose and Rowan were twins as well, “And it is even rarer for them to survive past the first few weeks... all troll children are cherished, of course, but these little ones are even more so.”

  A group of troll-wives brought huge platters of bread and cheese and meat, and big stone flagons of very good ale; gradually the news of the troll twins’ return and the arrival of the strangers spread, and the whole clan of about three hundred trolls gathered to hear their story and share the meal.

  Strangers of any kind were an event here, so deep in the mountains; but the arrival of a Bridge troll was almost unprecedented, and quite a few of the younger trolls had never seen a man before. Of course, all the adult trolls spoke the Common tongue - which, as Rowan remarked, was just as well, for men’s throats are simply not made to speak Trollish and he always lost his voice after speaking it for any length of time. Gradually the travellers found themselves in the centres of various groups, telling their tale to a rapt audience.

  Moss was being treated with great reverence and some awe. All trolls, whether mountain, cave, or forest trolls, seem to have a natural interest in bridges; but very few actually become Bridge trolls and it is almost a holy calling among their people. The Stoneforest clan were honoured that Moss was among them, but they were saddened and appalled to hear of the destruction of his Bridge. They’d never imagined such a thing happening.

  Rose found herself at the centre of a large group of troll-wives, their lovely eyes lighting up their happy, homely faces. The rumour had quickly spread that Rose and Rowan were twins, and the she-trolls wanted to see and speak with this phenomenon for themselves. All had been sceptical until the evidence of their own eyes convinced them that they were indeed in the presence of living adult twins, and Rose’s exotic colouring only added to her appeal. She found that she was as interested in this isolated group of trolls as they were in her and they were soon chatting happily together about this and that.

  Rowan and Cris, as the finders of the truants, were surrounded by the largest group of trolls. They were sitting on a big pile of leather cushions, with Varla and Venn beside them. The little twins had had a long, tiring day, and though they’d tried valiantly to stay awake, in the end they’d both given in to the inevitable and fallen asleep.

  “Look at them there... so innocent they look,” Basalt chuckled, “Ye would not believe the tumult there was in this trollhall when Marna found they were gone. All the folk were scurrying about like gnomes, looking here and looking there…”

  The trolls laughed at the memory of their own panic, and Rowan and Cris laughed at the thought of the huge trolls ‘scurrying about like gnomes’. Nearly all of these mountain trolls were at least as large as Moss, and many were quite a bit larger; the biggest of all was the gigantic Shale, son of Basalt and sire of the troll twins. There were also quite a few troll children running about and they seemed to be all sizes, from toddlers about the size of an eight year old human child to some as tall as Rowan - though of course these were much broader than he. There were even some tiny - by troll standards - babes in arms.

  Shale looked at his sleeping offspring ruefully and shook his head.

  “Pests, as I told ye... still, I am very grateful ye found them. Truly I do not know what we would have done if anything had happened to them,” he said, “But enough of the little villains... delighted as we are to have ye all here with us, still there must be a reason; we are hardly on a main trade route here.”

  “No, you certainly are not,” Rowan said with a smile, “So I’ll tell you why we’re here, so far from our homes.”

  Quite a while later he finished the tale, “...and so here we are at the Stairway of the Gods... but now we find that there is no way up to it. We think there could be a tunnel somewhere; maybe you might know of such a thing?” He absently stroked the tawny heads of the cave cats that had come to sit beside him.

  All of the clan were grouped around him now, listening intently to his story. They looked at each other and at Rowan, and a hubbub of deep voices broke out.

  “But how did ye...?”

  “Wasn’t there an old tunnel up there that collapsed, years ago...?”

  “What did ye think ye might...?”

  “Maybe ye could... if we helped ye...”

  “Shame old Granite died last spring … he might have known …”

  “Isn’t there an old tale about a…?”

  “Tunnels? There are lots of tunnels around here... but...”

  “I wonder if...”

  Finally Basalt raised his hand and silence fell.

  “It is a terrible tale ye tell, my friend, a terrible tale...” he said, “Why, even here, we have seen great glowing curtains and balls of light in the sky, and we have wondered what they might be... but, thank the Powers, we have not experienced any of the dreadful things ye tell of. Yes, we will help ye if we can, of course we will, but I must tell ye that there are many tunnels around here.”

  “Truly, there are many tunnels,” Shale said slowly, “But I am not sure that any of them go up to the great stairway, it is a long time since I last explored them. I will have to ask our youngsters, they will know...”

  “Perhaps... I would not offend you, but... could we meet again tomorrow, do you think?” Rowan said hesitantly, “Poor Bess is still waiting for us outside, and I must see that she’s all right, and you have your own business to attend to.”

  “Do not worry about that!” Basalt laughed, “None of ‘our business’, as ye call it, is so important that we cannot stop and talk to our new friends, especially when ye found Varla and Venn for us. But yes, the day is getting on, and your little horse will be wondering where ye are. We will ask our young ones about the tunnels tonight and we will come to your camp in the morning.”

  **********

  The next day dawned bright and cold and clear and the trolls came to the waystation soon after the travellers had finished breakfast.

  “A good morning to ye all!” boomed Basalt, “It is only Shale and me come to see ye this time... but... er...” he hesitated.

  “What he is trying to say,” Shale laughed, “Is that we have managed to get here without my two little pests, but only on the understanding that they could come down later and see your horses again.”

  “Er, I hope ye don’t mind...” he added anxiously.

  “Mind? Why would we mind?” Rose said with a grin, “Rowan loves to show off his horses, and they love it too.”

  Rowan glared at her fiercely, then laughed. “Aye, she’s right, they do too... of course they can come and see them. Actually the horses are running free in the valley, so they might see them any time, but we can easily put them into one of the pens if you’d rather they weren’t loose. Either way, for the Gods’ sakes tell the youngsters not to try to ride the stallions under any circumstances,” he quickly explained why and was relieved when the trolls nodded wisely. What could they possibly know about this sort of training here, in such isolation, he wondered. But apparently they did, or at least they understood that Rowan was giving them a serious warning for the safety of their children.

  “T
hey can ride the little mare or the piebald if they want to, they’re both very quiet and safe for them, but of course it’s up to you if you let them or not,” Rowan added. He thought it unlikely that any troll or anyone else would disobey an instruction from Shale and he hoped there were no rebellious headstrong youngsters such as he’d been himself here among the trolls. If there were, he was confident they’d only get a fall and a few bruises in the unlikely event they could get onto the stallions’ backs.

  “Thank ye; otherwise there would be no peace at all in the trollhall. I think all the young ones will be wanting to come and look at them,” Shale said. “But ye do not need to pen your horses up, they are better to run free as our beasts do in the valley. Our youngsters do know how to behave around them, but still I will speak with them to be certain. I thank ye for the warning, my friend.” He beamed down at Rowan.

  “And speaking of the young ones,” Basalt said, firmly getting back to the point of their visit, “We spoke to them as ye asked, and as I told ye, there are lots of tunnels... but, I am sorry to say it, nobody knew of any that go up to the stairway.”

  “It’s odd...” he added thoughtfully, “I had the idea that there was a tunnel such as ye spoke of, but... I don’t know, maybe it collapsed years ago, certainly no-one knows of it now.”

  “I am sorry,” Shale said as he saw the travellers’ disappointment, “But perhaps we can still find a way to be of help to ye.”

  “Aye, thank you,” Rowan said, “I won’t pretend to you that I’m not disappointed; but after all, we’re still better off than we were... at least we haven’t had to explore all those damned tunnels ourselves, and we still might be able to...” he broke off thoughtfully.

  “Maybe Basalt is right...” Cris said slowly, “Maybe there was a tunnel, but it’s been forgotten over the years.”