Ravenwild: Book 01 - Ravenwild (97 page)

“Hello, Stephanie,” a voice said. The voice was soft and full of love. It was as beautiful a sound as Stephanie could ever remember hearing. Standing up, she looked for the source of the voice. It seemed to come from out beyond the edge of her small hollow in the dune.

“Please sit,” said the voice. “There is no reason that you must see me.”

She sat back down in the sand, hugging her knees.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am the voice of your lineage,” came the answer. “The voice of your Grandparents and their Parents and their Parents before them to the beginning of time. I want to help you with the decision you have before you, for the three who await you have spoken the truth. You hold their fate in your hands.”

“Well, what should I do?” Stephanie asked.

“That is a decision only you can make. You will, however, need some guidance. You see, this world, and the one you are actually from, is made up of thousands upon thousands of living creatures. Some are intelligent, that is, capable of thoughts and reason. In the case of these higher life forms, their thoughts and beliefs, their reasoning of what is right and wrong, if you will, are shaped by those around them. The process starts, of course, with their families when they are small, and all they can do is observe. But then as they grow, their behavior continues to be molded by the ones they grow up with: the ones they play with, go to school with, work with, those sorts of things. So, while the ways of many might appear strange, and perhaps hateful, to a stranger who finds him or herself among them, they can only be judged by the ways they have been raised, and taught, since birth. And, since all of the mortals are raised differently, it could never be “up to them” to stand in judgment of each other. In essence, it could never be expected of them, on this world or any other.”

“It seems to me you’re telling me I should let them go,” said Stephanie. “Is that what you're telling me?”

There was no answer, just the whisper of the offshore breeze.

Stephanie looked down at the ground. With so much to think about, her head had started to ache. When she looked up once again, she found herself on the same bench where she had previously sat. She thought it all over for a while, then stood and retraced her steps to where the Trolls remained in chains.

Jobst Nunns, Martus Kisk, and Forbst Grottos had not moved since she left them. They seemed transfixed by her presence, and it was not only in the way they stared at her as she walked up to them. By the looks on their faces, they might have been looking at an angel. They were looks of wonderment.

“I heard you say something important,” she said, standing before them with her hands on her hips.

None of them spoke, each looking one to the other.

“One of you called out that you were sorry, that you were wrong. Is that true?”

Again not a word. They seemed afraid to speak.

“Jobst Nunns,” she said. “I heard one of you say you were sorry, that you were wrong. Was it you?”

He lowered his great head and said quietly, “Yes, Stephanie Doreen Strong. It was I. I am sorry for what we surely would have done to you, had you not killed us first.”

“Martus Kisk. What about you?”

“Yes, Miss, I am sorry. Our ways were wrong. For this we are sorry.”

“Forbst Grottos?”

“Yes, Stephanie Doreen Strong. We were wrong. We talked it over after you left us. Our ways
were
wrong. We ask, we beg, for your forgiveness.”

She took a seat back on the bench. “And how do I know you’re not saying these things so that I’ll set you free? How do I know you’re not lying through your teeth?”

“We cannot,” said Jobst Nunns. “That is how it was explained to us when we got here.”

Stephanie looked confused. “Explained?” she asked. “Explained by whom?”

“By a voice. Before you arrived,” answered Martus Kisk. “We never saw the one speaking. We were told that we would have no choice, that the truth of our answers would be of something beyond this world.

“Uh-huh,” said Stephanie.

She stood and approached them.

“Two things,” she said. “One, you’re free.”

The chains that bound the three Trolls turned to ash and drifted to the ground at their feet.

“That’s interesting,” she mused, as the Trolls fell to their knees in front of her.

“That
too
is interesting,” she said, looking down on the tops of their bowed heads. “And you make my point
for
me. I am not the one from whom you should beg forgiveness. And I’m not the one before whom you should kneel. Stand up.”

The Trolls stood, but kept their heads bowed.

A pathway now opened up in the direction opposite of the one down which she had just walked. “I have a feeling that you are being summoned,” she said, nodding in the direction of this new path.

The Trolls began to walk down it. “Thank you,” called Jobst Nunns over his shoulder.

“Yes, thank you,” acknowledged the other two.

She awoke from the trance. The first thing she felt was the amulet, red hot against her chest, through which it felt like it was ready to burn a hole. The first thing she heard was her horse, neighing ferociously as it reared and pulled at the reins she had tied off to the tree. She looked around. Once again Trolls surrounded her. All were heavily armed, and all had murderous looks in their eyes. It had been such an odd dream, and she closed her eyes as she tried, as best she could, to remember every last detail. With her eyes shut, she felt all manner of small things striking her, as one might feel when a baby strikes its holder when first learning to move its tiny arms. She opened her eyes and looked around her, seeing the dozens of shattered arrows, crossbolts, and spears that lay all about her on the ground.

Looking up, she saw the mob of Trolls. Rather than the fury of mere seconds before,

she now saw nothing but bewilderment in the looks they directed her way.

But, more important than all of this,
she remembered who she was!

Flooding her mind was a torrent of memories as to how she had journeyed to this place, a world apart from her own, and the life that had been hers before Hemlock Simpleton entered it. She was Stephanie Doreen Strong from Salem, Connecticut.

Entirely shocked by the overwhelming rush of thoughts, she paid not the slightest bit of attention to the Trolls who had gathered all around and were pressing closer and closer. When she finally did realize that the nearest were now within an arm’s reach of her, she snapped, “
Back up!”
which they did straight away, many in the front falling clumsily over those behind them in their rush to obey her command.

One of those nearest to her spoke. “Are you a god?”

She barely heard him; such was the intensity of the thoughts coursing through her mind.

“What?” she asked, then, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

She walked over to her horse and unfastened the reins from the tree. Terrified, he reared back and lashed out at her with his hooves, with his nostrils flared, his ears back, and the whites of his eyes showing.

“Easy boy,” she cooed him. “Easy. It’s all right. It’s all right. Easy … easy.”

It took several minutes, but eventually he calmed down and allowed her to mount up.

She rode slowly away, once again leaving the Trolls behind her. For the second time they had tried to end her life. Now they merely stood and talked to each other in hushed tones.

As she rode, she knew what she had to do. She was sure that her mother and father had followed her to this place. It only made sense. She needed to find them before something bad happened to them, if it had not already. She eased the horse into a canter. She had a plan.

“What do you mean ‘it’s complicated?’” Jessica asked the Gnome soldier.

The Gnome didn’t answer her right away, and Blake could see that she was about to explode, so in his most diplomatic tone of voice he said, “Sir, we have been completely without any news as to the whereabouts of our daughter for months now. If you could please give us any information you have concerning her, we would be entirely grateful. Please.”

The Gnome looked again at Captain Pilrick, then back at Blake, then lastly at Jessica, to whom he addressed his next words. “I cannot say for certain,” he began slowly. “But this is what I have heard. The news of the capture of the Prince of Ravenwild and a peasant girl came to us late last fall. Some time after that, we heard that they had escaped, along with the Emperor’s private doctor and one of his nurses, aided by one of the Emperor’s own commanders and a small band of renegades. Then the Prince was recaptured, but she was no longer in his company, it seems. Not a month ago, a girl fitting her description was seen walking down from the border of the Enchanted Northland. The word is that the Trolls captured her up near the village of Obb, where they have a temporary garrison set up. It has been used to house members of the resistance movement, pending their execution. She was apparently taken to it, but a story has come out in the last, oh, I would say a week, of a girl, once again fitting the description of the one who was captured with the Prince, who escaped from there. One who possesses powers not of this world. Extraordinary strength mostly, as well as the fact that her body is impervious to injury by sword, axe, arrow, spear, or crossbolt. It is said that she hurled a Troll jailer hundreds of feet in the air as though he weighed no more than a child’s ball. She then, if the stories are correct, rode away from the garrison on one of the horses that the Trolls had been keeping for foodstuff, and was last seen headed south. That is all I know.”

While he was speaking, the last of the Gnome soldiers filed by him, carrying the supplies that were needed for the campaign in the village of Utt, saying, “Sir, we are ready.”

“I must go,” he said.

“Wait,
” said Jessica. “
Please
. I have some questions … ”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted her, “I must go. The situation in Utt is most precarious, and I can delay no further. Good luck in finding your child.”

“Wait, you son-of-a … ”

Blake restrained her as she lunged for the Gnome, who marched from the room. Furious, she turned and slapped him hard in the face. “
Are you going to let him walk away
?”

“Jessica,” he barked back at her, seizing her by both arms. “
That’s enough. Count your blessings, and let it go!
”

She tore herself from his grasp. “What is wrong with you?” she directed at no one. “What is wrong with you?”

There was an oppressive silence in the room as Blake, Jessica, and Captain Pilrick all stood and considered the words spoken by the Gnome commander, Blake rubbing absentmindedly at his cheek.

“Where is this place?” Jessica asked the captain. “This place called Obb?”

“Far to the northwest. It is a few miles south of the border to the Enchanted Northland. It’s a three, maybe four, day ride.”

“Then that’s where we’re going, as soon as we can get hold of some decent mounts. Do you think you could arrange that?”

“I’ll do you better than that,” he said. “I’ll go with you.”

“Will you be able to do that?” asked Blake. “Don’t you have military obligations? You are still a captain in the resistance army, aren’t you?”

He laughed. “True enough. But there is something intriguing about these rumors that the commander said are circulating. Something that could potentially have enormous tactical implications, and it will not take a lot of convincing of my superiors to have me go check it out firsthand, now will it?”

“Very well,” said Jessica. “Make it happen. But know that Blake and I leave at first light. We’ll need horses and provisions.”

“You’re wife is a no-nonsense woman. She reminds me of my own.” He smiled.

Blake returned it. “Probably why we married them, huh? Maps would be good.”

Chapter 32

Orie crept slowly back towards the camp. All of the sounds of the fight had stopped, and it was deathly quiet as he moved cautiously along. More than once he thought about doing as he had been told and running back to join his friends in their flight away from danger, but he never wavered. Forrester Ragamund was his friend, and friends did not abandon friends in need. Ever.