Chapter 8 – The Road to Gallen Not Taken

There were no roads leading anywhere from the Iron City Pass. Very little trade ever happened between Iron City and the cities and towns north of the Ottoran Mountains. The occasional shipment of iron would go out to Osiri to be distributed throughout the area, but any other trade route was nonexistent. Thus Koja, Lynna, and Harrad had no beaten path to follow to get to Gallan. All they had was the sun and the mountains to guide them.

Harrad preferred it that way, though. Travel an unbeaten path and you are less likely to run into people. A Koro traveling this far into the heart of the Ottoran Empire could have spelt trouble for Harrad and his friends had they run into people. And Harrad had heard before of rogues, society’s outcasts, lurking at the sides of the roads waiting to ambush trade caravans and travelers.

Koja was inclined to agree with Harrad. When you get this close to the more ‘civilized’ towns in the Ottoran Realm, society’s outcasts become increasingly easier to find.

So for three days they traveled along the mountain’s edge unencumbered. Grassy plains and clear, open skies made for prime traveling conditions. But when those clear skies became dark and dreary with storm clouds and the cool, moist winds of summer’s end began to race across the plains, traveling became as miserable as can be. And then the rain fell early in the morning on the fourth day, so early, in fact, that the three teens awoke that morning already drenched.

Miserably wet, but with the morning rains having died down for a bit, the teens tried to no avail to start a fire and attempt to warm up with a cup of coffee. But the fire would not start, the water could not be boiled, the coffee unable to be made, and just thinking about gave Harrad the headache he knew he would end up suffering through in a few hours. He rubbed his temples and groaned.

“This is not going to be a good day,” he predicted moodily. Koja laughed a short barking laugh.

“I think I figured that one out when I woke up to rain hitting my face,” Koja stated grumpily.

“I think you two are blowing things way out of proportion. It’ll clear up, warm up, and it’ll be a great day,” Lynna said cheerily, to both Harrad and Koja’s annoyance.

“I don’t think you get it, Lyn: not coffee equals a headache the size of a mountain Troll!” Harrad growled. Lynna looked a little shocked, but kept up her cheery attitude, which Koja figured was better than her trying to tear his head off verbally.

“Things will get better, you’ll see,” she insisted. With a thunder clap it began to rain again.

They packed up soon after it began to pour again, deciding not to eat. They were cranky and wet, and so none of them spoke to each other. That lasted for the first hour. Then the cold winds picked up, and being drenched, it cut to the bone quicker and more painful than a knife. They knew they wouldn’t be able to travel very far in those conditions, but they were out in the open, not a tree in sight.

Not a tree in sight, that is, until, off in the misty distance, nestled comfortably in a small valley carved into the Ottoran Mountains, Lynna spotted a forest. It would be the perfect place to wait out the storm and maybe to start a fire to dry off and cook something to eat. So, without so much as a word, the three friends headed off in the direction of the forest.

It was a painful journey, as short-lived as it was. Each step was a course correction as the winds blew at their sides, pushing them off their path to their destination. Rain whipped stingingly at their faces and hands. Any exposed skin was red and stinging with each drop of rain. And the storm only got worse.

The teens reached the shelter of the forest and the valley none too soon as the temperature dropped again and instead of rain, the land was pelted with hail. It was an odd turn of events, but not unheard of in those parts. Koja was just glad for the shelter of the mountains and the forest, a double barrier against the storm. He set his stuff down against a tree and began to help Harrad and Lynna gather wood for the fire. Within minutes it was ablaze and the three friends huddled closer to the warming flames, feeling much better in dry clothes.

“I honestly can’t believe our bags managed to protect everything inside them form the rain. I mean, judging from the outside, the thing should be more waterlogged than a lake!” Koja exclaimed. Harrad and Lynna nodded in agreement.

“I’m just glad to be out of the rain,” Lynna commented, shivering slightly. Before Koja knew what he was doing he reached over and rubbed her back a bit, trying to warm her despite the fact that there was a fire right in front of her. But she made no move to tear his arm off, so Koja continued as they sat there. He looked over at Harrad to find the Koro with a wry grin on his face as he sipped his coffee.

“You know, Koja,” Harrad began, “now that I think about it after seeing the map of the Ottoran Realm, why didn’t we just travel west down the Aruth Valley to Ligol? We could have grabbed a boat there and taken the Aruth River all the way out to the Kries Sea, and then up a bit north to Mylavis.”

“Well, you know what they say about hindsight,” Koja stated.

“No, I don’t. What do they say about hindsight?” Harrad asked. Koja hesitated before answering timidly.

“Um… I don’t know either… I just know it’s easier to see solutions to your problems when you look back at them.” Lynna laughed a bit. “What’s so funny?”

Lynna shrugged and replied, “I don’t know. I find it amusing when you try to sound smart.”

“Fair enough,” Koja replied with a grin.

It was exactly what he had tried to do. And he’d botched it up too. Now that he thought about it, it was kind of amusing. So amusing that he began to laugh, and soon he found that he could not stop. And laughter being as infectious as it is, it was not long before both Harrad and Lynna joined Koja. It took a long time for them to stop laughing, and when they did they found themselves stretched out on the ground, sides sore, and grins on their faces. It was exactly what they had all needed. And as tired as they felt afterward, they felt much better than they had before.

“So has anybody else wondered why this forest wasn’t marked on the map of the Ottoran Realm?” Harrad asked as a way to start conversation. He did expect an answer. Koja always had a theory, Harrad knew him well enough to know that. But the voice that answered him he did not recognize.

“Because you’re not supposed to be here,” the voice said.

“Oh crap,” Koja muttered. Harrad was right; today was not going to be a good day.

-

Harrad, Lynna, and Koja marched forward in that order, their hands bound behind their backs, and those binds bound to each other by lengths of rope. And a length of rope was bound loosely around Harrad’s neck. Its end extended forward into the hands of one of their captors. The others trailed behind, bows and arrows at the ready, axes strapped to their backs.

Harrad was acutely aware of who their captors were, and was not surprised by their treatment of outsiders. For that is what Harrad, Lynna, and Koja were considered to be by theses people; outsiders. It was punishment, Harrad figured, for the Humans driving them out of their forest homes elsewhere. But this behavior wasn’t uncommon back when they used to inhabit numerous forests throughout the land. It just became a little more aggravated.

The leader tugged at Harrad via the rope about his neck and barked at him to hurry up. Harrad really disliked forest Trolls. So arrogant and pushy, wanting everything to be their way without compromise from the people they secluded themselves from. It was no small wonder the Humans drove them out of their homes. But, Harrad reprimanded himself, they were a sentient race as well, and had every right to live in this land as they did. If only the Humans saw things that way. A lot of problems would be solved before they even started.

Further into the forest the three friends were led in silence. Only the patter of rain and the wind rustling the leaves broke the silence about them. They walked on for what seemed like hours without rest. They still had not eaten anything that day, and they were quickly growing weary. But the forest Trolls marched them onward.

After a while the trees began to thin out, and soon the three teens found themselves in a large clearing in the forest. Houses were scattered throughout the clearing, each one on the edge of what looked like a small farm. Forest Trolls were out in these fields tending to the crop. As the captors and captives passed by the farmers would stop and stare. Those in groups would gather together a whisper amongst themselves. It unnerved Koja.

As they walked further into the clearing, Harrad noticed their destination: a large wooden structure at the opposite end of the clearing. It looked to be a town hall or something like that. Or maybe it was their leader’s home. Harrad couldn’t be sure. But as they neared the building, it became evident that it was an important place. Guards were posted to either side of the stairs leading up to the front double doors where two other guards were posted. There were also guards marching across the grounds around the building.

They stopped at the stairs where the leading captor greeted the two guards in a friendly manner.

“Gathrel, Rignhald, good morning. Hrothfel truly smiles down on us this day.”

“Judging by this wind, Hrothfel wears a wry grin and not a smile on his face, Higlar,” the one addressed as Rignhald replied with a slight shiver. Gathrel laughed at his fellow guard then turned his attention to Higlar.

“I think no god but Lothlir smiles this day if you’ve come back to town with those creatures in tow,” he said, a look of disgust crossing his face as he cast a glance in the captives’ direction.

“Creatures?” Koja blurted, “We’re sentient beings, just like you!” The Trolls roared with laughter.

“They were found within our forest, a clear violation of our agreement with their king. I am bringing them to King Thoren,” Higlar explained.

“The king is not here at the moment,” Rignhald said.

“He is out tending his fields,” Gethrel added.

“Thank you, my friends,” Higlar said, bowing low so that his brown beard nearly touched the ground. The guards returned the gesture and Higlar turned and began to march off towards a house that looked no different than any other in the clearing.

“If I may ask, what agreement with the king of the Ottoran Realm, and would it make any difference if, say, one of us was a Koro?” Harrad asked.

“To answer your last question first: no,” Higlar replied, then continued, “Long ago, a short time after King Ottora established his kinghood over the land, my people were driven out of their homes and scattered. In an attempt to save some of our lands, our king at that time made an agreement with King Ottora that essentially gave us ownership of this forest and others scattered throughout the Ottoran Realm. He promised us that no Human would ever bother us again. And if they did, the Dwarves had the right to do with them as they pleased.”

“Dwarves?” Harrad asked, “I thought you were forest Trolls.” Suddenly Higlar stopped and took a deep breath, and Harrad could hear axes being drawn behind him.

“You may live out of ignorance this once,” Higlar said dangerously. He turned around and glared up at Harrad, thick eyebrows knitting together in anger. “Should you ever call us Trolls again, I will slit your throat myself. Are we clear on that?”

“Clear as glass,” Harrad said shortly. Higlar turned back around and began marching them off again.

“Smooth,” Koja commented, “very smooth.”

“What? I didn’t know,” Harrad said over his shoulder.

“Yeah, and that about the only reason you’re still alive right now. So how about you leave any further conversation and inquiry to me?”

“Oh yeah, that will go over much better,” Harrad said sarcastically.

“Both of you shut up,” Lynna stated.

They finally reached the house and the plot of farmland beside it. They stopped at the edge of the field and Higlar raised his hands and cupped them around his mouth.

“King Thoren!” the Dwarf bellowed. Suddenly a head popped up over the crops and scanned around for the source of the call. He was an older Dwarf, his hair and beard completely grey and what little of his face that could be seen wrinkled. He finally spotted them and looked almost annoyed. He raised his face to the sky and muttered something, and then began to cut through the field towards Higlar and his captives.

He reached the group and stopped in front of Higlar, standing a bit taller than the Dwarf. He looked annoyed, a frown visible in his beard.

“Can’t a man tend to his crops without getting bothered these days,” he complained. “Shouldn’t you be out on border patrol, Higlar?”

“I was, but I ran across these trespassers in the forest,” Higlar explained. “I thought to bring them straight to you so that you may decide what to do with them.”

“Hmm… A Human and two Koro, eh?” the king muttered. He walked up to each of them staring them in the eye. Not one of them looked away. The king smiled.

“Release them,” he ordered.

“What?” Higlar blurted looking confused. The other two Dwarves seemed confused as well.

“You heard me,” the king said sternly. “Sever their bonds. Hrothfel’s Axe! Sometimes I think you younger Dwarves are harder of hearing than me.” Higlar took his knife and cut the ropes tying the three teen’s hands together, but still decided to argue.

“They are trespassers; outsiders, my king!”

“I am aware of that, Higlar. What would you have me do? Enslave them? Kill them? Would we not be any better than the Humans who drove us from out homes all those generations ago? No. I say we let them go, and welcome them as guests in our valley.”

“Thank you, King Thoren,” Koja said when the king had finished. The king turned to him and smiled.

“Do not think you are off the hook, my boy,” he said. “I shall still question you and your friends. How about at the evening meal, here at my home?”

“The king of the Dwarves is very kind,” Koja said, bowing to Thoren. The king returned the gesture, still smiling.

“Good! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have crops to tend to,” he said then turned and reentered the field, his grey head bobbing above the crops as he walked.

Higlar looked annoyed, Koja noticed. “He seems like a good guy,” he said to the Dwarf.

“He is our king. Hrothfel’s Axe guides him. He must have a good reason for letting you go,” Higlar said.

“Say, Higlar; think we could have our stuff back? We can go set up camp on the edge of the forest or something and we’ll be out of your beard, so to speak,” Koja asked. Higlar turned to him, shaking his head.

“No. The king says you are guests, so we shall take you to the guest house. And since you are guests of the friendly sort, you will have no need of your weapons here,” Higlar stated. He motioned to the other two Dwarves and they left.

“I will personally show you to your lodgings,” he said to the three, and then began to walk off back towards the large building. Harrad and Lynna followed without another word. Koja followed, but not without speaking.

“So, I’m hearing this Hrothfel character’s name thrown around a lot: what’s the story with him?”