by Samuel Thews
The three stood over the book for some time before Crimson finally straightened and began to pace back and forth in the middle of the room.
“It just might work,” he said to no one in particular, yet Periwinkle either assumed the comment was directed at him or felt the need to respond in some way.
“It’s not without its risks, but aye, it could work at that.”
The creature interjected now, and Phinnegan was right that the words were nonsensical to him. But Crimson nodded furiously.
“Good point, Daga, good point. But we still have to get in. We can’t just walk right up and say ‘how do you do, might I explore your castle?’ Not going to work.”
The creature grumbled and crossed his arms, his suggestion evidently a good one, but not without its difficulties.
“Well hold on, mate,” Periwinkle said, pulling a roll of parchment from an unseen pocket. “We might be able to just walk in at that.” He handed the parchment to Crimson who cast a wary look before taking the parchment and unrolling it. As he read, a smile spread across his face.
“Brilliant! What luck!”
The red-haired Faë read the parchment a second time and then again for a third. When he finished, he handed it to the creature who read through it quickly. He too, smiled, or something like it. He cackled and uttered a few words which drew a laugh from Periwinkle.
“You’re right at that. And we’ve just enough time to make it.” He glanced at Phinnegan, who looked in wonder back and forth between the Faë and the creature. “Can he make it, you think?” Periwinkle asked, directing the question to Crimson.
“I’d wager that he can. Phinnegan, dear friend, we have quite possibly come across a way to get you home. But we’ve no time to lose and we have a long way to go. Can you handle it, you think?”
Phinnegan pushed the blanket back, which made him only slightly dizzy. He sputtered as he rushed his words.
“Ye…yes, I can.” He paused to let the dizziness subside. “I…uh, I can’t run but I can walk. I think…Where are we going? What have you found out?”
“Don’t worry about running. We can’t run there even if we wanted to. We’ve about a mile to the bridge. Can you walk that far?
“I…I think so.”
“Good. Periwinkle and I can help you along if need be. Once we’re to the bridge, it will be easy enough. Any good at riddles?” Crimson asked, casting an amused glance in Phinnegan’s direction.
“What do riddles have to do with anything?”
“The troll, of course. I’m not about to pay if I don’t have to.”
“Troll?! But trolls are mean and…don’t they eat people?”
The creature made a horrible gurgling sound just as Phinnegan asked this question. When he looked at it closely, he saw that it was laughing.
“You’ve heard too many stories, mate,” Periwinkle said in between chuckles. “We’ll be fine. But we must hurry.”
“I don’t understand! Why are we going to see a troll?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” Periwinkle called over his shoulder as he rushed from the room.
“But…!” Phinnegan shouted as he stumbled from his bed. “What is going on?”
“I’ll explain on the way. We must hurry!” Crimson placed a hand firmly on Phinnegan’s arm and steadied him as the two of them scurried from the room.
“Where are we going?”
“We, my friend, are going to Castle Heronhawk.”
CHAPTER 12
The Troll under the Bridge
They were quite a curious bunch, this group of four that set out at a brisk pace from the quaint cottage of one Crimson Grouse. The ruby-red-haired Faë led the way, a fine gray cloak now draped across his shoulders, billowing in the breeze. Behind him walked the flashy Periwinkle Lark, resplendent in a cloak of shimmering silver and a great black hat with a large purple feather tucked beneath the band. Leaning against him stumbled Phinnegan Qwyk, whose common cream shirt and worn brown trousers looked out of place beside the finery of the purple-haired Faë. In the rear waddled the stout little creature, naked save for a ruddy brown cloth that was draped over his body, resembling a brown sack with holes cut for his head and arms as much as a piece of real clothing.
Phinnegan, despite asking many questions as they made their way along the wide dirt road, had learned little about where they were going and why. Crimson had only deigned to say that they were going to the bridge and that this road led just there.
Periwinkle mumbled under his breath as they moved along, apparently searching his tricky mind for a riddle. Phinnegan wondered if Crimson was doing the same.
Sighing, Phinnegan let his mind follow his eyes, and wander across the countryside. He focused on the sweeping meadow that spread out from the road to their right. It covered the landscape as far as the eye could see with only a tree here and there to break the continuity.
He tried his best to ignore the left side of the road, for it was here that the edge of Darkwater Forest crept dangerously close to their path. But try as he might, the woods drew his eyes. When his gaze wandered to the dark tree line, he thought he saw more than one pair of eyes gazing back. Whether they were real or more hallucinations, he neither knew nor cared. But either way, he did not look upon the forest again.
As they walked, Phinnegan grew tired. This was the longest mile that he could ever remember walking, and he had walked a great many. But just when he thought to open his mouth and ask how much further it would be, the sound of rushing water reached his ears. Water likely meant a river, and where there was a river, there was bound to be a bridge.
“Almost there,” Crimson called back over his shoulder. Phinnegan looked around but saw no evidence of any water, yet the sound grew louder and louder. When he and the others caught up to where Crimson had halted some moments before, he saw why no river had been visible.
They stood at the top of a small hill, or what had seemed a small hill when they had begun to climb it. But it was no hill at all. When Phinnegan reached the top he saw that it was instead a cliff. A narrow staircase began just at its edge, a few steps beyond where Crimson had stopped. The steps descended back and forth down the side of the cliff. Looking up and out, he saw perhaps a hundred yards away another cliff.
“Where’s the bridge?” Phinnegan asked.
“Down there,” Crimson said, pointing over the edge of the cliff.
“You mean we have to go down those stairs?” Phinnegan asked as he crept to the edge of the cliff and peered down. His knees wobbled. The bridge was indeed down there. Very far down there. He guessed the river must be at the very bottom of the chasm, and that the bridge was somewhere in between.
“It’s not as bad as it looks. Just don’t look down,” Crimson said with a wry smile. “Come on then,” he scolded as he led the way down. Periwinkle followed quickly behind him, looking back over his shoulder to catch Phinnegan’s eye.
“Careful, mate. Stay close to the wall and you’ll be fine. It’s not as bad as it looks, honestly.”
The four began their descent with Crimson and Periwinkle almost bounding as they swooped down the old and crumbled staircase. Phinnegan was more cautious, both because he still felt weak and also because he was scared he would fall to his death. There were no railings to protect a careless traveler from falling into the great abyss, nor was he as surefooted as the two Faë. He kept a hand on the wall to steady himself as he made his way down. The two Faë stopped now and then giving Phinnegan and the creature a chance to catch up. The creature was also slow because his short legs demanded it.
Despite Crimson’s earlier assurance that they were not that far from the bridge, the descent took a half an hour. Phinnegan had maintained his balance for the most part, slipping only twice on his way down, but both times the creature had snickered behind him.
Phinnegan did not care for this little creature, not one bit.
When the final two reached the bottom they found the two Faë waiting for them.
; “All right, all in one piece?” Crimson asked as he checked them all for any signs of trouble on the way down.
“Well enough it seems. You All right there, mate?” Periwinkle asked.
“Yes. I’m just tired.”
“I’m sure you are. You should probably still be in bed, but that can’t be helped. The physical part is over now. Although the hard part lies ahead.”
“And what’s that?” Phinnegan asked, still a bit short of breath from the climb down.
“We’ve got to make our way past the troll, of course. Used to be that you could just buy your way with some pretty thing, but now they practically want half your fortune – or your firstborn. Riddles are the only way to go now.” Crimson cast a glance at Periwinkle. “Have you got a good one, then?”
“Fantastic. Just you wait.”
Phinnegan, who had never before seen a troll, was frightened by the prospect. Trolls were large and ugly. They were strong, stupid and they ate people, particularly those that tried to cross their bridge. He voiced as much to the two Faë, as he had done before they left Crimson’s cottage, but again he was met with laughter.
“You really have read too many stories,” Crimson said, a hand over his mouth to stifle the dying giggles.
“Well what’s a troll like then?”
“They aren’t snarling huge beasts with tusks and cyclopean eyes!” Periwinkle joked, raising his arms over his head and pretending to be a monster, much to the delight of Crimson.
“Or would you prefer them to have big hairy bellies and fingernails like talons, as long as knives!”
“I’ve even heard the stories of little goblin trolls who work black magic,” Periwinkle said in a quiet voice.
“That’s not funny. Everything I’ve read says they are…”
“Ah, to the devil with your books,” Crimson said. “You are about to meet a real troll. And I wager it will be nothing like you expect.”
Phinnegan by now was growing angry at the jokes the two Faë shared at his expense. He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.
“All right then, where is it?”
“Just over there,” Periwinkle pointed down a slight embankment to where the bridge began. “Just under the bridge.” He turned and walked toward the bridge. Crimson followed, as did the waddling little creature. Phinnegan had no choice but to bring up the rear, that or be left behind.
When they reached the edge of the bridge, Crimson headed for a rough hewn set of stairs that led down beside the bridge and then curved underneath. Phinnegan did not like the idea of going underneath the bridge, where he was still certain a monster would lurk.
“Must we go down there? Can’t it come up here?”
“Well there is one very good reason why it cannot, and I am certain in all of your reading you have come across it. Probably the one truth in the bunch. Now what could that be eh?”
Periwinkle stood and stroked his chin while Phinnegan struggled to come up with an answer.
“Oh, of course. Sunlight! So that bit’s true, then? They can’t come out in the sunlight or they turn to stone?”
“Yes, that bit is. And likely the only thing in that rubbish you humans thought up that was.” Periwinkle waved for Phinnegan to follow.
“Come on then, let’s get started. This could take awhile.”
Still afraid, although comforted by the fact that the troll could not chase him into the sunlight, Phinnegan shuffled behind Periwinkle, who was behind Crimson, the red-haired Faë already having gone under the bridge.
When Phinnegan reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around, he saw no troll. At least, he didn’t think that he did. What he did see was a most beautiful woman. He was young and not overly taken with the prettiness of girls. Yet still, he knew beauty when he saw it, and this woman was perfection in every detail.
“Where’s the troll?” Phinnegan asked.
Periwinkle smiled and nodded his head in the direction of the woman.
“She’s right there.”
Phinnegan’s eyes grew wide and he looked from the smiling face of Periwinkle to the face of the beautiful woman. He looked at Crimson, who was stifling a giggle, and then returned his gaze to the woman. And then he just stared.
Her long, straight hair was a more natural red than the ruby color of the Faë. She was tall and slender, more than a foot taller than either Faë. She wore a white dress with long sleeves that were cut tight about her arms, and then flared at the wrists. Her skin was pale, with a flush in her cheeks that offset the blue brilliance of her eyes.
Phinnegan shook with a start when she tilted her head and looked at him. Her eyes swallowed him whole and he felt that she was peering into his soul. It made him rather uncomfortable. At length she spoke, directing her statement to Crimson, who stood just beside her.
“He’s human. You know they will never let you in the castle with a human. Too dangerous.” Her lips curled in a wicked smile, her eyes still fixed on Phinnegan.
“Why don’t you just give him to me? What could two Faë and a bogle need with a human at Castle Heronhawk?” She grinned slyly in Periwinkle’s direction. “Unless you were planning to steal something.”
Phinnegan expected Periwinkle to laugh at the jest, but he remained quiet and looked to Crimson. Phinnegan found it odd that Periwinkle behaved in this manner, given that they possibly couldn’t be going to steal anything. Although, he had no idea why they were going to the castle. He wondered if the woman, no, the troll, could be right. Crimson’s voice distracted him from his thoughts.
“Now, now. What a horrible thing to say about two upstanding Faë such as us! Here we are just trying to show our young friend here a good time and you-“
“Well, why is he here then?” The troll strode over to Phinnegan, walking around him and putting her hand atop his head. Her touch was light and soothing.
I can’t believe that this is a troll.
“He’s here so that we can take him to the castle.”
“No. Why is he here, in this world? It is against the laws of your people to bring a human into this world. Have you forgotten? What’s to keep me from capturing the lot of you and handing you over for a nice reward, hmmm?” She gave Phinnegan’s hair a playful tousle. “Except for this one of course.”
Phinnegan felt a shiver run down his spine.
“He’s here and that’s all that matters. And he is not for sale.”
She grumbled and removed her hand from Phinnegan’s head, a bit more roughly than he felt was needed.
“Well what have you brought me then?” She snarled, her sweet voice taking on a sinister tone. “Gold? Jewels? I live in a land of treasure. Your paltry riches do not interest me.”
“Nay, none of that. We come to offer you a riddle.”
“Oh! A riddle is it? Well, that’s an entirely different thing then.” The troll’s pleasant voice had returned and she looked upon the two Faë with a smile.
“I love riddles. Name your terms.” She seated herself on a large boulder just under the edge of the bridge and folded her hands across her lap, looking up expectantly at Periwinkle and Crimson.
“If we win, you agree to send us up. No strings attached.”
“Done. And for me?”
Crimson hesitated.
“For you…name your terms.”
Smiling, the troll turned to face Phinnegan.
“I want him.”
Phinnegan backpedaled away from the troll and bumped into Periwinkle who had moved around behind him.
“I should say not!” he said in the strongest voice he could muster. But he felt Periwinkle’s hands upon his shoulders, light and delicate but with unseen strength. He flashed a grin to the troll.
“Half a moment, if you please.” When she nodded, Periwinkle spun Phinnegan around to face him and looked him in the eyes.
“Listen, mate,” he spoke in a whisper. “It’s either this or you are stuck here. There’s only one way out for you and that way lies past this troll. She
’s taken a liking to you and she’s dead-set on having you if she can get her way.”
“Well I’m not game. Tell her to pick another prize.” Periwinkle’s grip tightened on his shoulders and he could tell that the Faë was biting back his anger when he spoke.
“Look here, now, we’ve put ourselves in a bad spot. She knows you are here and she is right: you are not supposed to be. I got us out of Féradoon on a technicality, but if we are caught out here, all bets are off. She’ll turn us in if we back out now.”
“Well stop her then. We can just make a run for it across the bridge.”
Periwinkle shook his head.
“Nothing for it, mate. She’s got more magic in her little finger than me and Crimson put together. Besides, we don’t need to go across the bridge anyway.”
“Well where do we want to go then?”
Periwinkle turned Phinnegan back around and pointed to a small door that was at the base of the bridge amongst the rocks.
“That’s where we want to go. And she’ll never let us pass and we don’t have the power to muscle our way through. It’s this way or no way. Back to Féradoon, likely.”
Phinnegan didn’t like the feeling that he had been brought here without any explanation and now had no chance of turning back. He felt that they had tricked him, and now he had no choice but to submit and be the prize in some game with a troll, albeit a beautiful troll.
“I suppose I have no choice then,” he said coldly.
The purple-haired Faë shrugged as he often did, but Phinnegan saw in his eyes that he did feel some bit of guilt.
“I’m afraid not, mate.”
Phinnegan sighed and turned, pulling his shoulders from Periwinkle’s grip. He faced the troll, who sat waiting patiently, running a pearl-colored comb through her hair.