The Crystal Legacy (Book 2) (22 page)

Tonelia turned to wave, nearly collapsing.

Another troll leapt from the den and grabbed at her, but this time she dodged the charge. She ran down the marshy ground past Saxthor and Bodrin with the troll in pursuit. It ran into Bodrin’s sword, arcing up across its gut, and Saxthor’s sword, arcing down and lopping off its head.

Still shaken, Tonelia growled at Bodrin and cautiously approached the den entrance once more. This time nothing grabbed at her. She started back, thinking it empty.

“Come on up. It’s safe now.”

Saxthor and Bodrin rushed up just as a young troll darted out at Tonelia.

“Look out!” Bodrin said.

A female troll followed close behind, overtaking the younger one, but tripped on Tonelia’s snapped stick. As Bodrin jerked Tonelia aside, the female rushed forward onto Bodrin’s extended sword. Saxthor struck the young troll. He fell back into a large wizard’s lettuce leaf beside the path. The leaf cap flapped forward, swatting the troll down into the interior digestive juices. The cap sealed the stem.

Saxthor searched the cave. “They’re all dead. Tournak has a dry if smelly place to rest the night.”

Still wrapped in Bodrin’s arms, Tonelia shook her head. “I suppose you men want something to eat, too.”

The next morning, the four left the troll den in a hurry.

“Trolls are as nasty as they are ugly.” Saxthor brushed himself off. “Those bones lying around contribute to the stench, no doubt. Let’s get out of here and find some clean water so we can wash off all traces of these trolls.”

“That was a long night, if a dry one. Tournak is much better this morning with the herbs, moss, food, and rest,” Tonelia said.

The four again journeyed north and emerged from the marsh on dry land near a village some days later. When nearby villagers discovered the hikers emerging from the marsh, they came to investigate the unexpected strangers.

“No one in our village that’s gone near the marsh at night ever came out again,” the village elder said.

Bodrin brandished his sword for the crowd. “We killed four trolls in there. They were ambushing anyone who entered at night.”

“We must celebrate,” the village elders said amid the villagers pressing close to shake the heroes’ hands.

Saxthor grew uneasy watching Bodrin basking in the adulation. “Thank you for your hospitality, but we must move on.”

“You can’t refuse to celebrate with us. You’ve saved many of our children. We must give thanks. You’re heroes.”

“Heroes,” Bodrin said.

The villagers entered the marsh and retrieved the dead trolls, except for the young one left in the bulging wizard’s lettuce leaf with two feet protruding.

During the festivities, a runner reported the heroes to Graushdemheimer, the capital, as Bodrin told and retold how they liquidated the trolls. Anxious, Saxthor remained silent.

“Bodrin’s boasting may get us killed,” Tournak said to Saxthor. “We need to get back on the road. Bodrin is enjoying the notoriety too much. His tales are attracting too much attention.”

“And I’m worried about the wraith,” Saxthor said.

“If it figures out someone else was involved, it’ll hunt us to gain another chance with the Dark Lord,” Tournak said.

The trip to Graushdemheimer was without incident. The autumn sun was warm and the hikers walked along the rocky back roads and through pastures untroubled by sights of slinking creatures. The peace ended when they got to Graushdemheimer. A great throng greeted the now national heroes with great pomp and ceremony at the city gates.

“It seems our exploits with the trolls preceded us,” Saxthor said. “It’s a good thing we didn’t mention the orcs and ogres or Dreaddrac’s watchers in Graushdemheimer would be waiting for us, too.”

“Who says they’re not?” Tournak asked.

The closer to the city they got, the more people rushed out to greet them. Everyone wanted to touch the heroes and their weapons. More than once, Saxthor had to hold onto Sorblade so no one drew it from its scabbard.

*

Word reached the court that travelers near the border had discovered and slain a band of trolls that had snatched villagers for years. The court was abuzz with news of the troll killers.

“Activity on the northern borders is picking up,” Graushdem’s chatra said in a council meeting. “The people report seeing orcs and ogres passing through Graushdem. There’s a growing discontent among his majesty’s subjects. The king ordered castilyernovs Feldrik and Tossledorn refurbished for reassurance. This troll incident could be a great moral booster if we use it properly.”

“Maybe these villagers could report on Tossledorn’s progress; the citizens here are listening to them for sure,” another minister said. “As the king’s ministers, we need to show a victory over Dreaddrac’s creatures.”

“This troll eradication is a timely political plum,” the chatra said. “We should be on hand to welcome these heroes and associate with their success.”

The council agreed and adjourned to the city gates as the crowd surged, sweeping Saxthor and his friends into the city.

“Welcome to Graushdemheimer,” the chatra bellowed, ushering Saxthor up to a high spot where the crowd could see them together. “It’s my pleasure to extend our warmest greetings to our distinguished troll-slayers. The people of Graushdem will forever appreciate your valor in ridding us of such vile creatures.”

The chatra’s broad smile faced the crowd, not Saxthor, as he assessed the crowd’s response. The people were cheering the heroes and not him, so he took Saxthor’s hand while patting him on the back. He held onto Saxthor, turning left and right that everyone could better see them together.

“We thank you for your warm greetings,” Saxthor said.

He bowed in deference to the chatra’s position. The chatra returned a slight bow, watching Saxthor.

This is the figure of a leader, thought the minister. His regal countenance and the ease with which he speaks in courtly phraseology assure me this man is no village farmer. The man is familiar with court protocol. His fine features suggest nobility. I must learn more about this noble troll-slayer. This will mandate an immediate change in plans.

“King Grekenbach would like to extend his appreciation personally,” the sly old chatra said. “Please accompany us to the royal palace.”

Bodrin looked at Saxthor. “The palace.”

Frowning, Tournak nodded.

Saxthor gave Bodrin an angry glance. Bodrin turned red and looked downcast. Saxthor turned to the chatra. “Thank you, Lord Chatra, but we need to be on our way due to urgent business in the north.”

“Nonsense, would you refuse the king’s gracious invitation?”

Saxthor cleared his throat as he glanced at sheepish Bodrin. “Of course not. We accept your kind invitation and will be honored to accompany you to the palace.”

The four melted into the crowd, thanking the well-wishers while the chatra stood gleaning the popular approval. He dispatched another minister with all haste to the palace to prepare the king and court.

Why the angry glance at his friend, he wondered.

Dignitaries surrounded the honored guests. When he thought the court prepared, the chatra called the heroes to join him, moving on to the palace through winding streets, the circuitous route to maximize exposure. He kept the troll-slayers beside him walking in the procession.

“What’s your name, young man?”

The chatra waved, focusing on the crowd. Saxthor didn’t seem to hear as he shook hands thrust at him. A young woman pressed forward and gave Saxthor a flower. He took the gift as she bowed to him.

That lady bowed to a commoner, the official thought. The king will inquire as to his name; we’ll see what that reveals.

The chatra didn’t ask Saxthor’s name again.

*

Saxthor realized the chatra had seen the lady bow. The king would ask his name and Saxthor couldn’t ignore the king. On the walk through the city, he pondered how to disclose his identity.

If I reveal who I am, the king is sure to be suspicious of Neuyokkasinian motives, Saxthor thought. Spies might be at court that would send news of our location to Earwig or the Dark Lord. If I fail to divulge who I am, and they discovered it, that would be a certain diplomatic flap. On meeting the king, I’ll determine if he is trustworthy. If so, I’ll confide in him in private and hope we can leave before news reaches the wrong ears.

“The shops and homes are so attractive on these meandering streets,” Saxthor said.

“They were deliberately built on winding streets to prevent siege machinery from penetrating the city in wartime,” the chatra said. “Ah, there it is, Portapang Palace.”

As the chatra’s entourage arrived at the palace-fortress, the guards snapped to attention. Honor guards, with swords raised in salute, escorted the troll-slayers along corridors to private quarters, where they freshened up. Then officials ushered them into the palace’s grand audience hall.

The men were familiar with palace splendor, but having spent her life in Castilyernov Hoyahof’s dungeons, Tonelia’s head turned like a screw. She gawked at the architectural splendors, tapestries, and treasures that adorned alcoves punctuating the walls.

Two elegantly uniformed guards opened the ornately carved doors in unison. The court chamberlain announced the chatra, and then, not knowing their names, announced:

“The Heroes of Hern, our troll-slayers.”

King Grekenbach the Fourth sat upon his throne in full court robes, crown atop his head, and scepter in hand. His attention focused on the visitors entering the grand hall. The chatra marched forward down the polished marble floor, past the assembled nobles, and bowed before the throne.

“Your Majesty, let me present the Heroes of Hern.”

He turned back to Saxthor and bowed slightly, extending his arm in presentation. “These are the three men and lady who slew the trolls that preyed on your subjects in the village of Hern.”

Forewarned of the popular acclaim, King Grekenbach motioned for the troupe to come forward.

“It is our pleasure to express our appreciation for so noble a deed.” Grekenbach’s deep, regal voice drew the attention of all within the grand hall. “You have earned the gratitude of our kingdom.”

King Grekenbach was taller than most of his subjects, his prominence enhanced by a large athletic build, suggesting extensive military training. His black curly hair; full, neatly trimmed beard; and bristling mustache accentuated a powerful jaw line and strong features, giving the king a commanding presence at the center of his court. He appeared to be about forty, had sharp blue eyes, an olive complexion, with a warm, confident smile.

King Grekenbach rose to shake the troupe’s hands, each in turn, starting with Saxthor.

“You'd be the leader of these heroes, we take it? Tell us young man, who is it that honors our kingdom with such a noble deed?”

Saxthor bowed. He couldn’t dodge the question.

“I am Saxthor Claremendak Calimon de Chatronier, Your Majesty. These are my friends Bodrin Vicksnak, our tutor Tournak Delphendor, and the lady is Mistress Tonelia Tezentok. We’re traveling the peninsular on holiday to experience the beauty of the Powterosian peninsula.”

The king’s eyebrows rose as his head cocked; he turned to the chatra.

“Lord Chatra, Queen Eleatsubetsvyertsin and Prince Consort Augusteros of Neuyokkasin are of the house of Calimon, are they not?”

The chatra’s jaw dropped. “I felt certain the young man was of noble birth, but I hadn’t suspected royal birth.”

King Grekenbach turned to Saxthor.

“Are you related to the royal house of Neuyokkasin, Saxthor?” The king’s piercing eyes stared directly into Saxthor’s eyes.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Queen Eleatsubetsvyertsin is my mother. I am Prince Saxthor of Neuyokkasin,” Saxthor responded with full bow.

The king cast a threatening glance at the chatra, then turned again to Saxthor. “Would you excuse us for a moment, Prince Saxthor?”

“Of course.”

Grekenbach’s smile flashed to pinched lips when he glared at the trembling chatra.

“Accompany us to our consultation chamber, Lord Chatra.”

A wave bowed across the silent hall as the chatra scurried behind the king. Following their departure, the court erupted in chattering, bobbing heads, and nods toward Saxthor.

Tournak stared at Bodrin, whose head hung down. “This is the result of careless boasting. The last thing we need is the king’s attention now.”

*

In the private chamber, King Grekenbach spun around, facing down the chatra as the door closed.

“How could a prince of the peninsula’s most powerful kingdom suddenly appear before us, and by chance no less, and we not have any advance warning? What is afoot with this group on what they call a holiday? Who is this prince, and why is he here?”

The chatra squirmed

“I shall send intelligence agents at once to get answers to a thousand questions, Majesty. I had no advance warning either. If you will excuse me, I'll get you the answers you seek. It’s a breach of protocol for a royal prince to sneak unannounced into our kingdom. A spy perhaps?”