Helga: Out of Hedgelands - Rick Johnson (a court of thorns and roses ebook free TXT) 📗

The Mountain Moves But Stands Still

Burwell Oswego was a mild-mannered, sober Bayou Dog whose life of hard work, homespun fun and quiet living was a source of deep contentment for him. He loved to sit on the porch of his shanty, deep in the bayous, listening to the humming of the locusts and ‘tendin’ his home,’ as he put it. He avoided the ‘gross pleasures’ of the trading season, which was why he normally planned his travel to avoid it.

The last day of trading season was especially wild. Most Drownlands creatures had no use for money at home, so they spent it before they left. Crayfish cakes flew off the griddle and Drownlands Grog flowed like water. Burwell steadfastly avoided Drownlands Grog, because of its tendency to make the rough and foolish even worse. But he did drink considerable amounts of Bog Fizz. The sweet drink, named for its tendency to furiously fizz with bubbles, was a favorite with small beasts—and with Burwell.

Although Bog Fizz was a soft drink, it had a strange affect on Burwell. Its natural, fizzing bubbliness tickled Burwell’s nose so much, and made him hiccough so much, that he lost control of himself. “Hoo, hoo, hoo, ha, ha, ha...Woooeee...Hic! Hic! Hicccc-Hooo-Yip!...Wooooeee that tickles!...Hoo, hoo, hoo, Hic-Hic-Hicccc-Hooooo-Yip!” That was Burwell when he drank Bog Fizz. Especially if he was in a happy mood, and most especially if he was telling stories, gossip, or jokes that he thought were hilarious—Burwell completely lost control. He became totally silly...out of his mind...momentarily insane with glee. No one could talk to him. He just went, “Hoo, hoo, hoo, Hic-Hic-Hic, WOOOEEEE!” Every once in a while, he would try to blubber some part of a joke, or repeat some snatch of a funny tale, or make up some wild new piece of gossip...and then off he’d go into gales of laughter.

Burwell had long ago promised Bwellina that he would not drink Bog Fizz when they were at home or anywhere in ‘polite company.’ So, when they arrived at King Stuppy’s Trading Post, and Burwell said he was tired and thirsty, Bwellina knew what was coming. Throwing their bags up on the dock, Burwell gave a Dock Squirrel a coin and told him to “carry the bags over to Stram Noggbet’s barge and tell him we’ll be there as soon as I wet my whistle with some Bog Fizz.” Bwellina calmly picked up her straw knitting bag, fixed her flowered hat firmly in place, and set off to find a quiet place to knit.

Burwell walked up to the Bog Fizz vendor’s cart, standing tall among the crowd of small beasts gathered there. “A pint of Bog Fizz,” Burwell said to the vendor.

Bwellina, meanwhile, moved down the dock to where an elderly Opossum was selling tea and donuts. Bwellina ordered a cup of sizzle-tea and a pecan-crusted donut. “One sizzler and p-wheel comin’ right up, dearie,” the old Opossum smiled. She worked a bellows on her cart to fan a small fire, heating a bed of smooth round stones to red-hot. Deftly picking out one from the fire with tongs, she placed it into a thick crockery mug and sprinkled it with a mixture of herbs and dried flower petals. The herbs and petals began to toast instantly, giving off a pleasant, warm fragrance. As soon as the fragrance began to waft, the Opossum poured boiling water over the stone. Even boiling water was cooler than that super-heated stone and an explosion of steam poured out of the mug. Sizzling steam threw clouds of strong fragrance into the air. The beverage never failed to have a calming effect on Bwellina.

She settled down with her steaming mug, nibbled a piece of her donut, and put a few stitches on the new sweater she was knitting. Sighing happily into her mug of tea, Bwellina closed her eyes, letting the fragrant steam fill her nostrils. How calming it was. She was vaguely aware that Burwell was ‘hitting his stride’ nearby, but she was determined to ignore it until...

Above all the noise and hubbub, she could clearly hear Burwell laughing and hiccoughing. He was wheezing with delight. She could pick out snatches of what he was saying: “Hooo, Hooo, Hooo, Ha, Ha, Hooo...Hic-Hic-Hic-HooooYip!...Yessiree...Hooo, Hooo...and the minstrel band had a Cougar lady playing an accordion and harmonica and...Hooo, Hooo, Hooo...Oh, I can’t stand it...Ha, Ha, Hic-Hic-Hic-HoooYip...and the Cougar was all peaceable and kind and she was with a Wood Cow...Hooo, Hooo...Ain’t seen one of those ’round here before...Hoo, hooo, hoo, Hic-Hic-Hic...Hoo, Hooo, Hooo...And what beats all, is they said they were going to the Mountain that Moves But Stands Still...Hoo, Hoo, Hoo, Hic-Hic-Hic-HoooYip...who ever heard such stuff!”

King Stuppy, who had been dozing lazily in his hammock, leaped up and stormed over to where Burwell was wheezing with delight, letting Bog Fizz bubbles break on his nose, happily oblivious to the furious king now standing beside him.

“What did you say about the Cougar?” King Stuppy demanded.

Burwell, still not conscious of his danger, and thinking that his wild story was making the crowd happy, replied by making the story even wilder: “Hooo, Ha, Ha...I said she was a Cougar dancer wearing a tutu, and playing a banjo, harmonica and accordion all at the same time...Hoo-Hoo-Hoo, Hic-Hic-Hic...HooWEEE!”

King Stuppy was not amused. “Stupid Dog,” he said, slicing a button off of Burwell’s coat with his cutlass. “You insult the Cougars, for which I condemn you,” he continued. “But before I decide how to deal with you, I give you the chance to live.” Lowering the point of his cutlass away from Burwell’s belly, where it had been poking, King Stuppy pulled Burwell close and whispered harshly in his ear: “What did you say about the Mountain that Moves But Stands Still? Where is it? Tell me how to find it and you will live!”

“Listen to the Place Inside You”

Helga walked from one end of the Trading Post to the other, again and again, talking to creature after creature, always asking the same question: “Have you seen any Wood Cows?” She knew from Ola that Wood Cows were almost never seen in the Drownlands. The Forever End had cut off their homelands for centuries, and only those of the ancient stock lived beyond the Forever End. If any creature had seen a strange Wood Cow, it could be a clue to the fate of her father. Again and again she asked the question, looking earnestly into the faces of each creature, searching for a hint that they knew something that would help her find her father. Again and again, the answer was the same. No one had seen a Wood Cow.

Then, as she passed the Bog Fizz vendor, lost in her thoughts, she heard the phrase, “Wood Cow.” It was like a splash of cold water in the face, cutting through the accumulating dust of despair. Helga was instantly alert and electrified. Her mind replayed what it had heard:

“Oh, I can’t stand it...Ha, Ha, Hic-Hic-Hic-HoooYip... HoooWHEE...and the Cougar was a talking like a WooSheep, all peaceable and kind and she was with a Wood Cow...Hooo, Hooo, Hooo...Ain’t seen one of those ’round here before...Hoo, Hooo, Hoo, Hic-Hic-Hic...”

Scanning the crowd around the Bog Fizz cart, Helga saw King Stuppy holding a Bayou Dog by the coat, apparently angry and threatening the unfortunate creature. King Stuppy had the poor Dog’s shirt and suspenders in his powerful grip, lifting him up on his tiptoes. She could not hear what the Cougar was snarling in the Dog’s ear, but every instinct of pity and justice urged her to his assistance. Helga charged toward the place where King Stuppy held Burwell in his grip. She never reached them. Tough Cougar thugs—King Stuppy’s bodyguards—instantly surrounded her, cutlasses drawn, fingers sheathed in ugly, sharply-spiked brass knuckle rings. Helga stopped. Some other tactic would be needed.

“You claim not to know about the Mountain that Moves But Stands Still,” King Stuppy said quietly in Burwell’s ear. “So be it. I believe you, Dog. But perhaps you only forget. King Stuppy is a generous and fair ruler. He will give you a chance to remember anything you might have forgotten. You insulted the Cougars, which is punished by death. But if you soon remember anything you have forgotten about the Mountain that Moves But Stands Still, you will be spared. I sentence you to ‘Ride the Log.’ You will not die instantly, so you will have time to remember. If you remember, I will free you. If you do not, you die. Guards! Bind him to the log!”

King Stuppy was furious. Here was yet another fool telling of the Mountain that Moves But Stands Still, but who, when confronted with the majesty of King Stuppy’s questioning, turned into a mere blubbering idiot. He was nearly crazy with his desire to find this mysterious Mountain. Each year he sent out explorers to search for the Mountain that Moves But Stands Still, but it had never been found.

The mythical mountain was said to have castles of light with golden walls, and limitless sparkling gems. It was said to be so dazzling that those who beheld it could not speak of it. But King Stuppy knew better. He knew that those who had seen this marvelous place were greedy for its fabulous riches and did not want others to share in the wealth. So King Stuppy would find it himself. And when he found it, he would take all the riches.

The problem was, he could not find it. Each year a traveler would drop a hint, or tell a story, that seemed to give a lead to the location of the Mountain. Each year, he sent out explorers in a different direction. The searchers never returned. Sometimes, a straggler would stumble back to King Stuppy, arriving half-starved and in rags, having lost his mind wandering in the wilds for months with little food or water. The straggler, if he could speak coherently about his experiences, always reported the same thing: the King’s explorers had perished, not by attack from enemies, but by becoming so completely lost, in such remote wilds, that they simply starved or died of thirst.

King Stuppy was not deterred by these unpromising results. None of his subjects knew the fate of his exploring parties. So far as anyone in the Drownlands knew, King Stuppy was sending criminals into exile. For anyone in King Stuppy’s realm that transgressed against his rule, there were only two possible punishments: either become one of the King’s adventurers, or Ride the Log. Except for those poor creatures specifically sentenced to Ride the Log, most who angered King Stuppy chose to go exploring. The king promised them freedom and a share in the riches if they found the Mountain that Moves But Stands Still and brought proof back to him.

That King Stuppy had no intention to honor his promises did not matter. He was a patient Cougar. He would keep sending out explorers. If they did not return, it did not matter—it disposed of troublemakers. If, however, they did return one day with proof of the location of the Mountain...Well, then he would have a special reward for those brave beasts who had brought him his fondest wish. They would Ride the Log. Only King Stuppy would know that secret.

Helga surveyed the menacing ring of King Stuppy’s thugs. It did not look good for Burwell. In her injured condition, she could not use her Yeow-Yeow skills. Physically, she could not fight her way through King Stuppy’s guards. Yet she could not bear the thought of a poor, innocent Bayou Dog being made to Ride the Log. She must do something.

Unhappy creatures condemned to Ride the Log were tied to logs and set adrift in the