Ravenwild: Book 01 - Ravenwild (27 page)

“Sixty miles,” answered Gracie, “more or less. Maybe a hundred?”

“I agree,” answered Ryan with a grin, then, “I would have gotten there.”

“Okay, quit it you guys, this is serious,” said Orie. “Look here, in this town named Troll, is that lame or what? It says there is a raft hidden on the eastern shore that we need to find, and we’re going to float down the river for … jees, a couple hundred miles … no, more like four hundred … maybe five … wow … to pretty much where the castle is. Man, that’s a seriously long way … Ryan, get out the rest of the maps and see if there is a more detailed one of Troll.”

And on it went until the small group was confident enough that they knew where they were, and where they were going, to start the first leg of their long journey. Following this, Gracie gave the boys their first and only riding lesson.

“The first thing you need to know,” she said, “is their names. Look, they’re engraved here on the saddles. Mine is Lightning. Orie, yours is Thunder. Ryan, yours is Fury. You need to make friends with them. You need to love them, and they need to know that you do. Your lives will undoubtedly depend on them, and if they know that you love them they will put themselves in danger for you. Horses are like that. Most people think they are no more than dumb beasts that carry them from here to there. Not the case. They are highly intelligent animals, and definitely develop strong feelings for those who would ride them. What I'm saying is, take care of them and they will take care of you.”

The boys spent the next half hour bonding with their mounts. They spoke their names repeatedly as they groomed them for the trek that lay ahead. Much though she knew it was way too little training, she also knew that time was of the essence. So, just as the sun was setting, they took their first actual steps in the rescue effort of Stephanie.

For the first few hours, they rode in silence up the trail, guided by the intense light of the two Inam'Ra moons. At one point, however, the going became too steep and the footing too treacherous. On Gracie’s command, they all dismounted and started walking the horses along. Soon, even this became inadequate to deal with the difficult climb, and they were forced to advance with one horse at a time with one pulling and two pushing. It might have been easier had they been able to shout encouragement to the animals as they struggled upwards, fighting against the steep incline, the loose scree, and potholes that threatened their hooves every inch of the way, but they were forced to keep their encouraging words down to mere whispers. Gracie was the leader in this, soothing and cooing the animals all the way as they inched their way slowly up the mountainside.

By midnight, they had all the horses together again at a place where the trail widened out enough to accommodate the three animals side-by-side. Everyone in their little outfit was breathing heavily, even the horses, whose bits were covered with lather.

“We have to let them cool down,” said Gracie, “and they need water badly.”

“Ryan, get out the maps,” said Orie, “and see if there is any water along this trail. I’ll give them some of ours. We need to drink too.”

He gave each horse sips of water from their waterskins, pouring a tiny amount at a time into the palm of his hand and letting them lick it out. He thought of Mickey and Johnnie and how he used to get a kick out of the feel of their tongues when he was a little boy. “Sorry, Fury,” he said to the last one, “I wish it could be more. Ryan, what do you know?”

He handed the waterskin off to Gracie, and she took a sip. “Not too much,” he said, “we need to make it last. Just a mouthful. Hold it in your mouth as long as you can.”

“I don’t see any water on this side of the mountain,” he said. They all looked. They all agreed.

“Then we make do with what we have,” Orie said. “We have three waterskins. That will have to be enough. I can’t see that Minos Arterios would send us this way only to have us die of thirst. Let’s go.”

For the remainder of the night, they pushed and pulled and grunted and sweated and struggled furiously to make it to the top of the mountain. There were parts of the trail that were actually quite easy, and there were parts that were so difficult that they swore they would never be able to traverse them. But they worked together, they never gave up, and about an hour before sunrise a small clearing rewarded their valiant efforts, off to the right of which was a dense thicket in which they could hide out with the horses for the day. With any luck, anybody passing by this way would merely continue down the trail without noticing them. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

“This is where we sleep,” said Orie. “I’ll take the first watch. Gracie, you tether the horses, Ryan, you unload them and prepare us a little camp. Make sure they get a little water and some of the oats in the saddle bags.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he said. They exchanged meaningful looks. Their faces were covered in sweat and grime. Their hands were rubbed raw from the continuous pulling on the reins. Every muscle in their bodies ached beyond belief. They were hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, yet when Orie said, “The last time you looked like this was the first day of football practice last fall,” Ryan couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah,” he said, “compared to that, this is a piece of cake.”

“I’m going to scout ahead a little,” he said. “Make sure there aren’t any surprises around the next few bends. After you get the horses unpacked and the camp set up, you should scout back a bit and make sure nobody’s following us. And cover our tracks as best you can. Use small branches to rub them out. If anybody comes by here, it must look like we never passed this way.”

“Will do,” he said.

Once the horses had been led deep into the thicket, and Ryan and Grace were about their assigned chores, Orie moved silently away from the small clearing. He knew that they had made some noise getting to where they had gotten, but he also knew that the windings and turnings of a mountain trail tend to obscure routine travel noise, and they had been very careful to not shout, or even raise their voices, so unless someone was right up on them, they were most likely still incognito to this point. He checked his sword to make sure it was loose in its scabbard, as he had seen his father do a hundred times before when they were practicing in the barn. His sword and his daggers were all that he took with him, leaving his longbow, two crossbows, battle-axe, and mace tied to his horse. He didn’t want the weight and, more importantly, he didn’t want the rattles.

He glided along on soft leather moccasins, making not a sound. Listening. He thought he heard a noise from up ahead and stopped to listen intently for several minutes but, hearing nothing, he kept going.

He reached a sharp bend in the trail and peered carefully around the edge of it.

A huge hand suddenly clamped itself around his neck and picked him straight up.

He found himself face to face with what he presumed must be a Troll and getting choked to death all at once!

“Well, well, what have we here? A puny Human boy. My, but what a nice snack he will make for me in the morning.”

Orie kicked and struggled, but there was no way he could break free of the huge creature’s grasp. He began to lose consciousness, the light fading to a terrifying blend of darkness and spots, accompanied by a strange prickly sensation in his neck and back. His last thought before he blacked out was one of regret that he had not been able to warn Ryan and Grace of the danger. He had failed them, and they would die because of it.

The Troll noticed he had become limp and dumped him unceremoniously on the ground, then went back to the chore of setting up his camp, which is what he had been doing when he heard Orie sneaking up the trail. Orie landed with a blend of splat and rattle all in a heap and remained stationary for several minutes. When he came to, opening his eyes, he was confused for several seconds … then suddenly remembered where he was and what he was about. The Troll noticed he was awake and approached him. Orie could see that he was blocking the way back down the trail, and he knew he would have no chance of getting around him. He thought about unsheathing his sword but, in light of the Troll's immense size, gave up any hope of possibly coming out on top in a fight.

He waited, scrambling back a little.

“Whoa there, little fellow,” the Troll said, “Now where do you think you are going?”

He reached down and pulled Orie’s sword from its scabbard, which he had to do quite carefully, being as his hands were so large. “Now what could you possibly intend to do with this little toothpick of a sword?” he asked. “Surely you don’t intend to use it in battle. Maybe against the Gnomes, but not against a Troll.” He laughed loudly for a long time. Surely Ryan and Grace would hear that and come to his aid. Curiously, he handed it back to him.

“What is your name, little one?”

“Orie Alexander Strong,” he said. “Might I ask yours?”

“You might,” he answered, “but there is no guarantee that I would tell you.” He roared again, clearly amused with himself. This time he laughed until his eyes watered, great tears running down over his cheeks. Orie carefully adjusted his position while the huge Troll guffawed himself to silence. He wanted to be able to dart by him when the opportunity presented itself.

“My name is Forrester, Forrester Wiley Ragamund. Thank you for asking. Good manners. Good manners are never in bad form, you know.”

“That’s amazing. My mother says that all the time,” said Orie.

“Well she is right,” said Forrester Ragamund. “And you would do well to listen to her. Now, where is it you are going? You are far away from your home, Orie Alexander Strong. By the way, that is a wonderful name. I like it. Yes, I definitely like it. Where was I? Oh yes, where is it you are going? Do you know that this trail leads deep into Slova? That’s where the Trolls live. You do know this? You do know you are in Slova, right?”

“Yes. I do,” Orie offered, cautiously.

“Then what are you, some sort of spy or something? No way. First of all, you’re not old enough. Then again, I hear we have nearly wiped out the Humans, so maybe you
are
old enough. Say, where’s your horse, anyway?”

“Who said I had a horse? Anyway, what are
you
doing here Forrester Ragamund? By the way, I like your name too. It’s a good name.”

“What are you, trying to butter me up? I’m the one that should be buttering you up, seeing that I am going to eat you for breakfast.” He laughed again, but not as long this time.

He noticed that Orie got extremely pale and said, “Oh. Don’t worry Orie Alexander Strong. I won’t eat you. I’m not that kind of Troll. I’m not like the others … ” He looked sad. If, that is, a Troll can be said to be capable of looking sad.

“What do you mean?” asked Orie.

“Well, it’s a long story,” he said, “Why don’t you invite your two friends to join us, and I will tell it to you all at once. Then I won’t have to tell it again and again.” He laughed again.

“Do you promise you won’t eat us?” asked Orie, “Or harm us in any way?”

“I do,” said Forrester. “By the way, I could smell it on you.”

“Smell what?”

“Why, the horse of course.”

“Oh. Yes.
Ryan, Gracie
,
come on
!” called Orie. “It’s okay. I think we may have had a huge stroke of good luck.”

Ryan and Grace strode into the clearing where Orie was now kneeling on one knee in front of Forrester, who had seated himself on a large fallen tree. Ryan had his sword drawn, Gracie, an arrow nocked in her longbow.

“Put those away,” said Orie, “please.”

“Good manners,” said Forrester.

“Yes,” said Orie, standing up. “Good manners.” He smiled up at Forrester Ragamund, who smiled back. If, that is, a Troll can be said to be capable of smiling.

Ryan sheathed his sword, and he and Gracie warily approached Orie and the giant creature.

“Forrester Ragamund,” said Orie, “may I present Ryan Brahm and Grace Hubbard. Ryan, Grace, Forrester Wiley Ragamund.”