Macster - The Last Dragon

For all of that day they walked, pausing only for small meals to appease their stomachs before continuing on, following the main road, which at times became so narrow that it belied its name. Shadows encroached on their path, making it easy to trip on unseen roots, so Wolf assisted Virginia in avoiding them. At first she gave him annoyed looks, but when he would not desist, she sighed and relented, suffering herself to his guidance.

Virginia spoke little, which worried Wolf. He was certain she was brooding over their talk the night before, and the incredibly steep odds against convincing the dragon to aid their cause. He wished so fervently that he knew what to say to ease her mind, but huff-puff, that was the problem--there was nothing to say, because the tale of the dragons and all of Wolf's warnings of their chances were true. He could only hope that this dragon would be reasonable.

If only Virginia would talk to him!

Morning slid into afternoon, and still they traveled, moving in a straight line westward except for when they had to detour around a Gypsy camp. By nightfall they had traversed nearly all of the forest and had to make camp again beside another spring; it was so nearly identical to the first that if not for his sense of smell and direction, and the silhouettes of the mountains still another day ahead, Wolf would have thought that they had circled back to their starting point.

At this point Virginia finally spoke to him again, but it was only to ask how much further it was to the border of the Second Kingdom. Once told that they would cross the border the next day, she lay down and fell asleep beside the fire, leaving a subdued Wolf to sit and stare pensively into the flames.

The third day dawned much as the second had, but this time when fresh water had been gathered and they had set off once more, there was more to occupy their minds than the now-monotonous view of road and looming trees and hidden glens and slanting sunbeams. For ahead, and growing starker and more forbidding with every mile, the mountain peaks towered into the beautiful blue sky, their jagged outlines casting a deeper chill of shadows on the forest.

Wolf had his eyes on the mountains and was searching his memory for where the passes through the ridgeline lay--he was fairly certain one was not far distant, and that because it was seldom used, none of Riding Hood's patrols would be likely to be guarding it--when suddenly he sniffed the air. He had caught a familiar smell, a stench like rancid meat, mixed with leather, oil, and unwashed bodies.

No, it couldn't be. Even this close to the river, Trolls would not dare cross over. Yet he could not deny the odor, and with the Huntsman dead, there was nothing to prevent them from entering the forest and poaching...

A muffled curse came from somewhere nearby, and Virginia halted, tensing up. "What was that?"

Wolf didn't answer, merely placing a cautionary finger before his lips and leading the way closer, stepping carefully and silently so as not to disturb a single leaf or stone. After weaving his way among the leaning trunks of a stand of massive oaks, his sharp eyes detected a clearing ahead, and he could see forms moving about. Slowing his pace, he touched Virginia's arm and motioned her into the underbrush. Despite the muddy state of the ground, she complied, face pale as she bit her lip. She had no idea what lay ahead, but clearly his furtive movements and intense concentration had clued her in that it was no good.

Crawling now on hands and knees, Wolf crept closer and closer to the clearing, slipping through thickets and arching tree roots until he was nearly there, the sunlight warming his face as the canopy overhead thinned enough to let the sun illuminate and warm the scene before him. At the far side of the glen, three massive draft horses stood pawing the earth restlessly, tied securely to a series of pine and hemlock trees with heavy leather and iron saddles on their backs and matching bridles. Nearby, several animal carcasses hung suspended from the limbs of an ash tree of humongous girth--fox, deer, and rabbit. All the animals were gutted and blood-splattered, the metallic tang in the air causing Wolf to salivate instinctively. Oddly enough, the pelts of the dangling bodies were also coated with pink dust--very familiar pink dust.

Suddenly, from somewhere to the left, concealed within the trees, something came crashing through the underbrush. A huge cloud of pink dust filled the air, then came the twang of a bow. The horses stirred fearfully. More crashing ensued.

"Suck an Elf!" This time the curse was quite clear, snarled in a brusque, male voice Wolf had hoped never to hear again. Then three Trolls, two quite gigantic and one rather puny, stumbled into the clearing. Behind him Wolf heard a startled, and quickly muffled, yelp from Virginia.

The shortest Troll, dark-skinned and with frizzy black hair, bared his crooked teeth and stabbed a finger accusingly. "I told you to wait 'til I fired the Troll dust!"

"You took too long!" protested the tallest Troll, his pasty complexion and pierced nose now surmounted by a great iron crown resembling the battlements of a crude fortress. "I would've had him if Blabberwort hadn't fired too soon!"

"Oh, shut up, Burly!" the third Troll snapped, her vivid orange hair fairly quivering with her rage. "You know very well my arrow would've killed it if you hadn't been in the way!" She slung her crossbow back over her shoulder and balled her fists.

Her brother ignored her, glaring instead across the clearing at the animals they had already killed. "Suck an Elf, I can't believe we came all this way, and that's all the meat we have to show for it. It's been a week already!"

The smallest Troll scowled. "Well, this was all your idea, Your Majesty!" He executed an exaggerated bow, his pronunciation of the title making it sound like an insult.

Burly whirled. "Bluebell, do you want me to pound you into next week?"

He approached his brother menacingly, but at that moment a soft, stifled sound came from behind Wolf. Turning, he saw Virginia right behind him, one hand clamped over her mouth to hold back a sneeze. Her eyes were tearing and scrunched up.

Before he could offer her his handkerchief, she lost control and sneezed, loudly and violently. Wolf closed his eyes.

He turned to face the clearing again, to see all three Trolls looking with narrowed eyes toward their hiding place, hands upon their weapons.

"Who's there?" Burly demanded.

"Oh, cripes," Wolf whispered.

Eyes trained on the three Trolls, Virginia tried to fight the sinking feeling in her stomach. Those damn mold allergies! They'd betrayed her when she and her father had hidden in those barrows from the Huntsman, and they had done so again now.

Beside her she caught Wolf scratching at his temple out of the corner of her eye. From the calculating expression on his face, she guessed he was debating whether to fight or run. Deciding to take matters into her own hands--this was her fault, after all--she began crawling out of hiding.

Wolf clutched at her shoulder. "Virginia, no!"

Shaking his hand free, she stood up and stepped out boldly into the clearing. "It's us."

It was an interesting exercise trying to determine which of the Trolls was more surprised. After exchanging quick, terrified glances with his siblings, Bluebell at last exclaimed, "It's the witch from the Tenth Kingdom!"

"And that Wolf," Burly growled, as Wolf emerged from the brush in a feral crouch.

Blabberwort unsheathed her sword and grinned. "Nicee nice! Let's get them!"

All three approached menacingly, but Virginia held her ground. She had sworn to herself after her adventure that she would never run again, certainly not from the likes of these three. "No," she replied calmly. "I don't think so." "I am," Virginia answered. "If you do not let us pass, I will put you in a matchbox again." She tensed, hoping they would not call her bluff.

But Burly did. "Sure you will, just like you did all the times we were chasing you."

Virginia quickly shook her head, mind racing. "No, I didn't want to hurt you if I didn't have to."

Blabberwort snorted. "This we believe, from the one who killed our dad!"

Wolf snarled, saving Virginia from having to counter this ridiculous charge. "She did not! The Queen killed the Troll King!"

All three Trolls began laughing uproariously. As they clutched their stomachs, Burly choked out, "Why would the Queen do that? We were working for her!"

"Exactly!" Virginia cried. "She knew I was a threat, so she needed you to go after me. And if you knew she killed your father, you'd stop working for her. She had to lie."

Bluebell had stopped laughing, his expression troubled. "She does have a point. Dad and the Queen were always arguing, and we all thought he should have left her in the cell."

Burly rounded on his brother. "Shut up! Who's the king here, you or me?"

Bluebell looked ready to retort a reply, but Blabberwort elbowed him before pointing her sword at Virginia. "Why should we believe you? You'd say anything to stay alive."

Virginia didn't know what to say to that--anything she said they could deny with the same excuse. But Wolf interjected again, to her relief. "Because I say so! I used to work for the Queen, too, and I changed sides. Doesn't that say something?"

"Yeah, that wolves can't be trusted!" Burly crossed his arms and smiled proudly, as his siblings cheered him on.

Wolf snarled again, but Virginia restrained him. Even so, his countenance blurred and shifted, beginning to take on his lupine form, which served to frighten and subdue the Trolls somewhat.

The respite allowed her to come up with a rebuttal. Keeping her voice level and firm, she said, "You should believe me because of what you know of the Queen. Prince Wendell told us that he saw your father in Kissing Town--well, his head anyway. The dog was holding it out a carriage window. He couldn't have killed the Troll King. Agreed?"

Grudgingly, the three nodded.

"Well then, how did he end up with his head if I killed him?" Virginia jutted her chin out triumphantly. "The only way he could have gotten your father's head is if the Queen, who was keeping the dog prisoner, gave it to him."

Now it was Blabberwort's turn to look doubtful. Sheathing her sword, she put her hands on her hips. "Perhaps, girlie...but you only have Wendell's word on this. Tell us, then, how the Troll King died."

At least that was an easy question to answer. "He was poisoned. I know because I was there when the Royal Physician did the autopsy." Even if she'd had to stand near the door to avoid the sights and smells. "And he was found in the Merrypips Apple Orchard. Who else would use poisoned apples except the Queen? She served Snow White's Evil Stepmother!"

Burly frowned, his forehead crinkling, and Virginia could almost imagine steam was rising from his scalp as he struggled to think this all through. Grunting, he said, rather petulantly, "But why would she do that to Dad? He helped her escape prison!"

Wolf snorted and rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious, Troll boy? He was trying to take over Wendy's Kingdom. She wanted to rule all nine, so she couldn't have that, now could she?"

Virginia glanced at him gratefully, but Burly formed a knotted fist and shook it in Wolf's face, his pig-like eyes flashing. "That's 'Your Majesty' to you, wolfie!" He tapped his crown suggestively. "And even if you're right, your witch-lover had just as much reason to kill Dad. He wanted to burn her feet, and he sent us after you to capture her!" He exchanged knowing glances with his siblings, who bobbed their heads like a pair of pigeons.

Resisting the urge to rub her temples in frustration, Virginia forced herself to stay rational. Even if these Trolls were the stupidest creatures imaginable, she couldn't afford to lose her temper and provoke one of them into attacking. "No, that's not right, Your Majesty. Once you were turned to gold and we got away, I had no other reason to fear your father or want him dead. I was far away from him, and he was too busy taking over the Kingdom to threaten me. I was running from the Huntsman and chasing after the magic mirror! When would I have had time to kill him?" She looked now at Blabberwort the most as she made her appeal; as far as she'd been able to determine, Blabberwort was the smartest of the three.

All three Trolls were now looking sheepish and confused, clearly wavering. Virginia felt a surge of hope, until Burly muttered, "But you took Dad's magic shoes. You knew he'd come after them, and hurt you to get them."

Oops. How would she explain this one? "True...but I only took them so I could get away. Once I was free and had rescued my father, I didn't need them anymore." That was not true, of course, the addiction had made her need them more than anything else, but she was not about to admit that to Burly. Not when at any moment the balance could tip against her.

Suddenly it did. With a crafty expression, Burly the Troll King extended one gnarled hand toward her. "Very well...if you are telling the truth, and mean no more harm, then give us the shoes back. As a gesture of good faith...to prove you didn't kill our dad."

Virginia froze in horror, stammering a reply. "I-I-I c-c-can't. I...I l-lost them."

"What?" Burly's voice was a menacing growl, and abruptly all three Trolls' weapons were brought to bear, gleaming in the sunlight. Blabberwort even lifted a slingshot filled with Troll dust.

Involuntarily Virginia took a step back, but Wolf unobtrusively stopped her retreat with one hand, even as he stepped into the breach. "What my creamy love has neglected to say is that I threw them away...in the river. I had to, because she was addicted to them."

Virginia glared at him, but then paused, for it seemed to have worked. The Trolls were lowering their weapons, albeit reluctantly. Apparently they too knew the dangers of the shoes.

"It's true," Virginia said, her voice stronger again. "That's why I knew your father wasn't a threat, I didn't have his shoes anymore. But if I did," and here she met each of their eyes, even though it made her shudder to do so, "I'd give them to you in a second." This was true; she hated the shoes, even if they had been useful and beautiful and had provided the first hint of her attraction and love for Wolf. If she'd had them at Wendell's castle she'd have given them to the Trolls after they were pardoned.

But that reminded her of something else. "So you see, I have no reason to lie to you about your father. I could have kept quiet about the shoes, but I didn't. And my father, who fought you, was the one who argued for your pardon! If he'd do that, why would I kill your father?" She held her breath and waited. She did not add that the Queen had been her mother; that knowledge could be twisted to say she'd killed Relish to protect the Queen, or that a person who could kill her own mother would have no qualms about killing the Troll King.

After a long silence, Blabberwort nodded. "That may well be, girlie. But the fact is, you did throw away our shoes, one of our greatest magics, which you had no right to do. And it's easy for you to say you'd give them back when you don't have them anymore."

Crestfallen, Virginia sighed. She hadn't thought of that wrinkle. But Wolf once again came to the rescue. "Oh, stop whining about the shoes! You're better off without them. Your father was probably addicted himself." Wolf's eyes dared them to challenge him.

But for once the Trolls didn't. All three had sullen expressions and lowered eyes, as if Wolf had hit upon a point they could not dispute. "That's for us to judge," Burly muttered at last.

Seeing a chance to escape safely, Virginia said as gently as possible, "You don't have to believe us, at least not right now. Just let us go, let us pass by without any more delay."

Blabberwort eyed her shrewdly, or as shrewdly as she could manage. "Why?"

"Yeah!" Bluebell piped up, finally emerging from his perpetual crouch, where he had remained ever since the argument had gone over his head. "You should go back to the Tenth Kingdom, if you go anywhere!"

"And I will...after I finish the journey I'm on." Virginia took a deep breath; she didn't expect them to believe what had happened, but maybe it would distract the Trolls enough for them to slip away unnoticed. "The Fourth Kingdom's in danger, and I have to help King Wendell."

Burly snorted, smirking. "So His Royal Dogness has gotten himself in trouble again, huh? And why should we care, even if you're not lying?"

She fixed her eyes squarely on Burly. "You especially should care. Because all the Kingdoms and their rulers are threatened."

"What?" This time Burly's anger and suspicion were not directed at her, thankfully.

Slowly, using small words she was sure they could understand, Virginia explained about the Ice Queen and her spell, and the plan she had overheard using the Spying mirror. "So now Wolf and I are going to find someone who can help us break the spell," she finished. "But if you get a message from Wendell, don't trust it. Don't go to the palace. Stay far away."

She didn't expect these idiots to listen, nor did she really care what the Ice Queen might do to them, but she didn't want them in the castle causing more trouble when the time came to face the Witch of Winter with the dragon at their side.

Assuming they got that far.

Blabberwort sniffed haughtily. "We shall decide what we will and won't do, not you, girlie." Then she motioned her brothers into a hurried conference.

Virginia clasped her hands in front of her, wringing them nervously. Wolf stepped closer and wrapped his arm around her, and she straightened up as he lent his support once again. He inclined his head toward the underbrush, suggesting they should make a break for it now, but she shook her head, pointing at the huddle of Trolls, where Burly was keeping a watchful eye on them.

Finally, though, the three turned back and regarded them arrogantly, but all of them, especially Bluebell, could not quite hide the fear that her story had planted. "Very well, witch," Burly said in what he clearly considered his most authoritative, regal voice. "You may go, but if we find out that you have lied to us about anything, then next time you won't be so lucky."

"Because we'll take you to our palace again!" Bluebell chimed in eagerly.

"And then you'll find out the true meaning of torture," Blabberwort purred darkly. Her eyes were trained suggestively on Virginia's belly.

Virginia trembled anew, unable to move, but Wolf grabbed her and began dragging her from the clearing.

"Go!" Burly barked.

Virginia's legs needed no further urging, unlocking so that she could flee through the clutching limbs and wet, slapping leaves into the blessed concealment of a forest path. When she and Wolf were far away and could no longer see--or smell--the Trolls, she leaned against him heavily. That had been too close. She still could not stop trembling; that threat to her unborn baby had been far too much. She'd expected Wolf to attack Blabberwort, but thankfully he had not, resisting his instincts and taking the intelligent way out.

But now he was chuckling! Virginia lifted her head and stared up at him incredulously. "Wolf? What...?"

"Oh, Virginia! You were magnificent back there! Standing up to those three, not backing down for an instant...such drama! I'm so proud of you, my creamy darling!" And he embraced her tightly.

Blushing in spite of herself, Virginia managed a small smile. So she had. She'd never gotten closure with the Trolls, her father had dealt with them (and with remarkable skill and efficiency). But now she'd gotten her chance.

And it felt so satisfying. Now they would never terrorize her again.

Patting Wolf's back, she kissed his cheek and then pulled away to point along the path. "Thanks, Wolf. But now we'd better get out of here...before anything else happens!"