Debra L. Rollins - Revenge For the Huntsman

After traveling miles on the Troll road, Tony sat down on a fallen log and wiped the sweat off his brow. Marjorie took a few more steps, turned and looked back at him.

“What are you stopping for?”

“Look Margie, we can’t go on without water and we ate the last of the food hours ago. We have to find someone to help us.”

“Let’s go just a bit farther, Anthony. This King Wendell you’re so fond of may be just around the next bend for all we know.”

“That’s the problem,” said Tony wearily. “We don’t know. We took the wrong road out of town. That farmer warned us of the Troll road…not to travel on it. The rat said Wendell headed towards the Disenchanted Forest, but we still don’t know which road he took through it. Wendell may have taken a totally different route and we’ll never cross paths. The forest is huge!”

“Well, I say let’s try a little longer on this road. If we haven’t found anyone by the time we reach the next crossroads, we’ll turn off and try another way.”

Tony groaned, but stood up and nodded in agreement.

I’m getting too old for this, he thought as he stiffly set out upon the road once more.

Soon they came upon the next fork. Posted there were wooden signs shaped into arrows pointing in different directions. All were dilapidated, nearly falling off the rotting post in drunken fashion. Tony read them aloud:

Troll Kingdom ~ 24 mi.
Little Lamb Village ~ 21 mi.
Woodcutter’s Summit ~ 3 mi.

The last wooden arrow pointed north.

“Woodcutter’s Summit sounds promising,” Tony suggested hopefully. “Maybe we can find something to eat there and someone who has seen King Wendell and his men. Perhaps even Virginia and Wolf.”

Forty minutes later, they arrived at the little hamlet. The buildings were old, all made of wood and thatch. Most of the men in the little town were dressed in plaid shirts and sported heavy boots and hatchets, reminding Tony of lumberjacks while the women were buxom and plump with flaxen hair braided tightly, then pinned up on top of their heads like cinnamon rolls. The thought of cinnamon rolls brought the thought of food fresh to his mind as he and Marjorie found a small pub called fittingly “The Rusty Ax”.

They settled in at a rickety, rough-hewn table, then gave the waitress, dressed provocatively in a low cut blouse, their order.

“I’ll have a thick cut steak…rare, with all the trimmings. Heavy on the juices!” Tony licked his lips at the thought. “Oh and bring me a bottle of beer…No! Make that two!”

“We don’t serve beef nor beer here, sir,” she responded apologetically, pencil still poised above her tablet. “Have to go clear to Rivertown for either of those. Would you perchance be interested in anything else?” The woman leaned over his shoulder, her heavy bosom inches from his face.

“Well…” he pulled at his collar uncomfortably and looked around the room. He noticed more than a few enormous, well-muscled men staring their way. He began again. “Well, what do you have? I’m starving. I’ll eat anything.”

“We only serve flapjacks and sausage, sir. Oh…and hot cider.”

“Sounds good to me, Anthony,” remarked Marjorie. The hike had her famished as well.

“Fine! Fine!” Tony agreed. “We’ll take two orders of flapjacks and sausage.”

“Are you sure that is all, sir?” The waitress purred.

“We’re quite positive, young “lady”.” Marjorie answered haughtily, leaving no question in the waitress’s mind what the older woman thought of her. Still, the woman walked away, unimpressed by Marjorie’s disdain.

“Hussy,” Marjorie murmured under her breath, while searching the pub for someone that even appeared knowledgeable. She spied a pleasant looking man at a far table actually reading a book. Perhaps he would be able to help.

“Anthony…” She tapped him on the shoulder to capture his attention as the waitress sauntered by seductively. “Anthony!” This time she pinched him.

“Ouch! What did you do that for?” he cried out, rubbing his painful shoulder.

“Get your nose out of your pants and go ask that young man over there if anyone has seen your King Wendell!”

“Okay! Okay…I’m going. No need to get physical. Gees!”

A few minutes later Tony returned to the table, now heaped with huge stacks of flapjacks and delicious smelling sausages. His stomach growled loudly at having not been fed, so he popped a large chunk of meat in his mouth and chewed in relief.

“Did you find out anything?”

Tony swallowed with a sigh of contentment, then answered his mother-in-law.

“No, but one of the other waitresses overheard me asking and said I should go to see some old lady by the name of Madam Tatler. Says her husband does some work for the old broad. He’s a messenger or something like that and that this Tatler woman seems to know the entire goings on in the Disenchanted Forest. His wife asked that if we went and if we saw her hubby to tell him to get his ass home. She hasn’t seen hide or hair of him in nearly three days. From the looks of her, I can see why he wouldn’t want to come home.”

“Really, Anthony…don’t be so crude,” Marjorie berated him. “Where does this Tatler woman live?”

“Not too far. About thirty minutes ride from here.”

After finishing their meal they rented a horse and buggy from the hamlet’s stable. Marjorie grabbed hold of the wooden seat for fear of being jiggled off. The buggy wasn’t quite like the fancier hansom carriages that you could rent in Central Park, nor as plush. So by the time they arrived at Madam Tatler’s cottage in the woods, her bottom was bruised and sore.

The pair walked up to the cottage’s front door and knocked. No one answered. Tony tried knocking again, louder this time, but still there was no answer.

“Maybe she can’t hear us,” Marjorie said. “Try around back.”

The back door proved as futile as the front.

“She must not be home,” she moaned in disappointment. “We’ll have to try later. Let’s go back to town and return in a couple of hours.”

“No way,” said Tony. “What if she’s just out picking berries or something? We’ll waste all that time for nothing. Wolf and Virginia are out there in big trouble.” He tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it opened. “Look…she didn’t even lock up. She’s sure to be back soon. Who in the hell leaves their doors open nowadays anyway unless they’re planning to be right back? Probably some sweet old lady that doesn’t know any better.”

“Anthony!” cried out Marjorie, mortified that her son-in-law was planning to enter the woman’s house without her permission. “We can’t do that! We could get arrested! It’s simply not done!”

“Cool it, Margie. It’s not like we’re taking anything. We’re just going to sit down and wait for the old crone to come back, see if she’s seen or heard anything and then we’ll leave.”

Tony pulled Marjorie into the back door, entering what looked to be the kitchen. Tony read the contents of canisters on the shelves.

“Hmmm…bat membrane, dried mushrooms and what’s this? Ground marrow of goat. Ugh! Remind me not to accept any offer to stay for tea if she asks.”

Cautiously they walked into the next room where several chairs surrounded a fireplace, a low-lying fire still simmering in the hearth. He slumped down on one of the chairs and closed his eyes, while Marjorie circled the room restlessly.

“Relax, will you, Margie?” he asked, peeping at her through one open lid.

“I can’t…it’s like spying on someone! I say we at least wait outside until…OUCH!”

“What happened?” Tony sat up and looked over at Marjorie who sat down on the other chair, rubbing her foot.

“I don’t know. I think I tripped on something over there on the floor…under the rug.”

Tony got up and pulled the wrinkled up throw rug aside, revealing a trapdoor underneath. He pulled up on the iron ring handle, exposing a set of rickety stairs disappearing into a dark, damp cellar.

“Hey! I wonder what’s down here?”

“Anthony! I’m not going down there to find out and neither are you!”

“Oh, come on, Margie! Where’s your sense of adventure? You’ve come this far, why not go all the way? Besides…what if she fell down the stairs and needs our help? We’d be heroes.”

“Oh, all right,” she agreed reluctantly. “But only because I don’t want to stay up here by myself. It’s pretty weird around here. I’m getting a bad feeling about this place.”

A goodly bit of time passed before both kings saw Bork and Blabberwort returned. While Wendell was relieved that they could now leave, Bluebell’s mind on the other hand was eased that his sister appeared in good health. In fact she seemed absolutely…mollified? Bork himself seemed perfectly pleased with his wife and even surprised Bluebell by playfully tweaking the red tuft of hair sticking out from the top of his older sister’s head. Whatever had transpired between the two must have been monumental for such a turnabout. When things had settled down and they found Burly, he would remind himself to ask. But for now…he looked over at King Wendell, who sat atop his steed impatiently, reins in hand…it would have to wait.

Tony lit a nearby candle and the two cautiously made their way down the slender stairs to the bottom. Once there, he found a torch on the wall and set it afire with the candle.

“What the…” Tony looked around him, flabbergasted. “I don’t believe it…it can’t be!” “What? What is it, Anthony?” Marjorie asked, dread creeping over her.

“The mirrors. The mirrors Christine used as the evil queen. They’re here!” Tony looked in alarm around him, as his image stared back, reflecting his dismay. “What the hell are they doing here? They’re supposed to be locked up in the dungeons at Castle White.”

Suddenly a noise from above caught their attention. Floorboards creaked as someone or something crept slowly across the wood planks towards the cellar stairs. Tony searched frantically for a hiding place. If this Madam Tatler had the magic mirrors, then that could only mean one thing. They were in BIG trouble.

“Dammit, there’s no place to hide!”

“Anthony! Look!” Marjorie whispered. She pointed at another door half-hidden behind old wood crates and junk. Hastily, they moved everything aside, clearing a pathway.

“Move it will you, Anthony?” She hissed.

“I’ve just about got it cleared away…there!”

The trapdoor opened from above just as Tony pushed open the outer cellar door. He ground out the torch and shimmied up the worn stone steps leading behind the outside of the cottage. A moment later Tony popped his head above ground.

“Hey, Margie…I think we…made…it…” He never finished his sentence. Around him stood dozens of ugly, large-nosed Trolls all with swords pointed menacingly at his head.

“Oh, no!” he cried. Two Trolls reached down and pulled him up, while another, older Troll made a grab for Marjorie. She dodged his hand, nabbed a fist-sized rock from the cellar stairs retaining wall and brought it down hard on the Troll’s hand as he tried for her again.

“Dragon’s dung!” the Troll called out. “The old one knows how to sting!” The other Trolls laughed in unison as the Troll finally grabbed hold of her and heaved her out of the stairwell.

He stood her on her feet but kept hold of her upper arm.

“Big mistake, Bluto!” she cried out. With lightning speed Tony watched, as did the other Trolls in awe as the petite, frail-looking woman grabbed hold of the aged Troll’s arm and heaved all six-foot, nine inches of his tall, husky frame over her shoulder as if he weighed hardly a feather. He landed roughly against a large tree, the wind knocked out of him. It was a few moments before he could stand up again.

He walked stiffly towards her, watching her warily as she prepared herself for another attack. No Trolline and certainly no human female had ever had either the sense or the capabilities to upstage Derk the Dangerous before. At least, not until now.

“Great, Marjorie!” wailed Tony, closing his eyes to what he was sure to come next. “Now you’ve gone and done it. We’re dead for sure. We’re…”

“Anthony? Is that you?” a familiar voice said from within the crowd of tall Trolls.

“Wendell?” Tony searched through the forest of Trolls and saw Wendell walking towards him. Behind the king followed the poodle-haired sister and tiny Troll brother of Burly. “Oh-no! They captured you too?” he groaned miserably. Now who was going to help him find his daughter and Wolf? Not that it made any difference now; he and Marjorie were dead meat.

“Hardly, Anthony.” Wendell smiled at his former manservant. “We’re traveling together, trying to run down a witch by the name of Madam Tatler. This is her cottage. What in the world are you doing here? This wouldn’t happen to be the woman we are seeking, would it, per chance?”

Dozens of Trolls and Wendell’s guards drew their swords and pointed them at Marjorie. Marjorie drew back, raised her arms and prepared to defend herself once more.

“For Pete’s sake, Anthony, you idiot,” she yelled at him, irritably. “Tell them who I am!”

“Okay…okay! Don’t get you pantyhose in a bunch. It’s all right, Wendell. This is Virginia’s grandmother, Marjorie.”

“You mean the evil queen’s mother?” the king asked suspiciously. The ring of swords drew in even tighter at the mention of the evil queen.

“Well, yeah…but don’t worry. She may be a money hungry, snooty old broad but she’s not like Christine, er… the evil queen.”

“Really, Anthony!” Marjorie sniffed angrily.

“Just kidding, Margie!” Tony raised his hands in front of him in a protective gesture. “We were looking for you, Wendell. Virginia and Wolf have been kidnapped by Lady Lupine and Lord Llort.”

“What?”

“Only they’re not who they seem to be. Lady Lupine is really an enchanted wolf and Lord Llort, their brother, Burly.” He pointed to Blabberwort and Bluebell. “They mean to do them harm.”

“This Madam Tatler wishes to kill Wolf in order to revenge her son, the Huntsman.” Wendell explained.

“The Huntsman? That’s just great!”

“Yes…and that’s not all. Prince Burly is out to return Virginia to the Troll Kingdom in revenge for Relish’s death.”

“But that’s crazy! Virginia didn’t kill the Troll King…Christine did.”

“Yes, they all know that now, but Prince Burly does not. The evil queen convinced him that it was Virginia as did she convince Blabberwort, Bluebell and the whole of the Troll Kingdom. These Trolls you see before you now know of the evil queen’s deceit, but Burly and the rest of the Trolls do not. If he somehow makes it back to the Third Kingdom with Virginia in tow…”

“I know, believe me…I know! What can we do? I don’t know where to find them. If this Madam Tatler isn’t here then where is she? Maybe she’s already met up with Burly and the wolf, has Virginia and Wolf locked up somewhere.”

“If these mirrors are magical, then why don’t we ask them?” Marjorie wondered.

“You’re right! Good thinking, Margie!” Tony headed back into the cellar with King Wendell right behind him.

“They’re still here?” Wendell looked surprised. “That’s odd. She must have left in a hurry to leave something so valuable behind, almost as if she were expecting us. Hmmmm.”

Tony stood in front of one of the mirrors and demanded, “Mirror, show me where I can find my daughter and Wolf!”

After a moment the mirror crackled, slowly bringing into view what looked to Tony the back end of a horse.

“What the hell’s this? I didn’t ask for a horse’s ass, I asked to see my daughter!”

“Anthony, wait!” Wendell grabbed Tony’s shoulder and pointed to the mirror. “What’s that?”

The picture rotated, as if someone were carrying a camera and shooting a scene. Slowly Virginia and Wolf came into view, hanging over the back of the horse, enmeshed in a net of vines. Tony and Wendell could see more of the picture. Whoever had possession of the mirror on Virginia and Wolf’s side was walking further away from their prisoners, allowing the rescue party to view them better.

“Okay, I see them…now where are they?” “I can’t tell for sure, Anthony. I…wait! Just a moment-I’ll be right back.” Wendell left the cellar for a few minutes and returned with another man, not dressed like a guard or a Troll.

“Who’s this?” Tony asked.

“Madam Tatler’s courier. He knows this forest better than most.” Wendell turned back to the little man. “Do you recognize where they are?”

The courier searched the image in the mirror and frowned.

“It looks like they’re heading upwards…at a fairly steep pitch, too, I may add. The only path that runs that sharp uphill is the one to Cascading Falls River. But Sire, there’s nothing up there…nothing but…but,”

“But what?” implored Tony, grabbing the man’s collar and shaking him impatiently, his heart filling with dread.

“Well, nothing!” the courier finished. “There used to be the beginnings of the river but it dried up years ago. A gorgeous waterfall used to flow over the top. Dropped nearly two hundred feet it did. Beautiful view it was until the water stopped flowing. Nothing there now but a steep cliff.”

“A cliff?” A two-hundred foot cliff?” yelled Tony. “I’d say that’s something!”

“Mercy, no!” cried out Marjorie.

“Anthony…we have little time to lose,” Wendell said. “If we don’t get there before Madam Tatler meets up with them…”

“I know, I know…” moaned Tony. “Virginia and Wolf are in BIG trouble.”

They all filed out of the cellar on a run, rallied the guards and Trolls, then hopped on their horses, leaving nothing but a huge cloud of dust in their wake, and headed towards Cascading Falls River.