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

class="calibre7">(schmack) that there was no way (schmack) to the Norder Estates except (schmack) across the Borf lands, and (schmack) no right-thinkin’ beast would (schmack) ever do that.”

Smackie broke out in sobs again. “Oh! Woes and torments! (schmack) Woes and torments! (schmack) Woes and torments! (schmack) Why, that silly-headed beast (schmack) kept right on pesterin’ me (schmack) and pesterin’ me non-stop! He wouldn’t (schmack) let me think (schmack) or eat or sleep (schmack). Just pesterin’ and pesterin’ (schmack) sayin’ he came to the Cutoff (schmack) thinkin’ he could get to the (schmack) Estates from here. Why (schmack) he like to drove me (schmack) crazy with his pesterin’ (schmack). Oh! Woes and torments! (schmack) Woes and torments!”

“What’s with the ‘woes and torments,’ Smackie? Why so glum?”

“Oh! Woes and torments! (schmack) Smackie sobbed again. “I’ve sent him (schmack) to his death! The Borf (schmack) will roast him and eat him (schmack)! He wouldn’t listen (schmack) to me and went off to the (schmack) Borf lands! He wouldn’t have (schmack) gone there if I (schmack) hadn’t told him about it! Oh! (schmack) Woes and torments!”

“Come on, Smackie,” Helga urged, “don’t take it so hard. Why, how do you know the Borf will roast him? They might be friendly beasts—never met one myself and don’t know much about them.”

“Oh! They’ll roast him (schmack) sure enough!” Smackie wailed. “Them Borf are a (schmack) fearsome tribe. Every beast (schmack) knows that! Why, my own Mamzy (schmack) used to tell me that (schmack) if I did not behave, the Borf (schmack) would come down Fool’s Gap (schmack) and take me away (schmack) to roast on a spit! That scared the bewilickers out of me! And I (schmack) sent that Lynx onto the (schmack) roastin’ spit, I did! Oh! (schmack) Woes and torments! I’ve never hurt a (schmack) beast in my life (schmack) before this! And now, I just sent (schmack) an innocent beast to the (schmack) roastin’ spit!”

“Now just hold on there, Smackie,” Helga exclaimed. “How long’s that Lynx been gone?”

“Just a few minutes (schmack) before the Weekly pulled in (schmack),” the troubled station-master replied mournfully. “That’s why you (schmack) found me so sad! I (schmack) tried so hard (schmack) to warn him, but (schmack) he just wouldn’t listen (schmack). I’ve never harmed (schmack) a beast in my (schmack) life! Oh! Woes and torments! (schmack)

“Well, he can’t have gotten far,” Helga replied, “which way did he go?”

“He asked me (schmack) where the road went (schmack) from here and (schmack) I told him (schmack) it went to Fool’s Gap (schmack) and that they (schmack) call it Fool’s Gap (schmack)  because there’s a (schmack) passage through the Smothercap (schmack) there, but only (schmack) a fool would (schmack) go there. Oh! Woes and torments! (schmack) That poor, poor beast (schmack)!”

“Now, Smackie,” Helga smiled, “just calm yourself. I’d wager the running wagon will catch up with him before he reaches Fool’s Gap. When we catch up to him—maybe I can talk some sense into him.”

“Helga! Oh! (schmack)” Smackie exclaimed. “If you could (schmack) do that, it (schmack) would be wonderful (schmack)! That poor beast (schmack) knows nothing (schmack) of the dangers (schmack)! My Mamzy always (schmack) said that (schmack) Fool’s Gap was nothing but (schmack) wilds and more wilds (schmack) and wilds evermore (schmack)! The Drownlands is a (schmack) pleasantry compared (schmack) to the wilds between (schmack) here and the Borf lands! (schmack) Why, there’s nothing (schmack)—not a wall or fence (schmack)—to welcome a beast (schmack) past the Fool’s Gap Station (schmack)! Nothing! (schmack) Nothing! (schmack) Nothing but deserted (schmack) barren wilds to (schmack) get yourself thoroughly (schmack) lost—until the Borf (schmack) catch you!”

“Now, Smackie,” Helga said with a comforting smile, “the running wagon will catch up to the Lynx and I’ll talk sense to him! Why, you’ll no more than have imagined how many times he has met a dreadful fate, than he will be back eating Snapped Catfish and drinking Plenty Punch-Aroo with you. You don’t know how determined I can be when I’ve made up my mind. My parents didn’t bring me into this world to sit back on my haunches when a fellow beast is in trouble. I’m going to send that Lynx back to you if I can. So don’t worry, I’ll do everything I can!”

Light began to return to Smackie’s sorrowful face as he realized Helga was unshakeable in her resolve. “O.K., Helga,” Smackie said with a shrug, “because I know you (schmack), it gives me hope (schmack). I’ll try not (schmack) to worry.”

“Ay’t, ay’t, Smackie!” the running steward added, joining the conversation. “The runners will help Helga also. When we catch up with the Lynx, if Helga is not able to talk some sense into the Lynx, why the runners will just—shall we say—add our strength to her arguments! As soon as the passengers and baggage are unloaded and the runners are rested, we’ll go after the Lynx. Our runners will catch up to him soon enough.”

“So the Lynx is probably planning to follow Fool’s Gap through the Smothercap,” Helga said, pointing toward a massive range of hills in the distance. Every Roundie knew that the only sure way out of the Rounds was through the Drownlands Cutoff Station and across the Drownlands. Maps were labled “Impassable Wilds” beyond the Fool’s Gap Station in the direction of the Smothercap. The wagon road turned north at the Fool’s Gap Station and left the Smothercap Steps behind. Fool’s Gap was a barren wasteland inhabited only by biting sand flies and other such pests and vermin. But somewhere, Fool’s Gap cut through the Smothercap, and the Borf lands lay beyond that. No Roundie would ever go there—no, never.

“Not to worry, Smackie,” Helga said a while later, as the running wagon prepared to depart. “We’ll catch up to the Lynx and send him back to you—even if it takes all of us!”

“I’m sure (schmack) you will, Helga,” Smackie said, his old jovial look returning. “But, please (schmack) be careful (schmack)—the early bird catches (schmack) the worm, but the second mouse (schmack) gets the cheese (schmack). Just please be (schmack) careful.”

So it was that good-byes were said and the running wagon set off for the Fool’s Gap Station. The section of road between the Cutoff Station and Fool’s Gap Station became wilder with every mile. The Smothercap Steps in that area were a rugged wilds, untraveled beyond the road except by wind, a wilderness where the traveler should stay on the road or soon become lost.

After traveling for about two hours, the running steward called out, “Stupid Frog Shallows! Rest break!”

The running wagon coasted to a stop beside a swiftly flowing stream. The river had cut a main channel through bare soft rock some distance from the shore. Harder rock near the road had better resisted the river and formed a wide shallows perfect for wading or swimming.

Normally, when the running wagon stopped at Stupid Frog Shallows, as soon as the wagon stopped the runners bolted for the shallows to cool off and relax. On this occasion, however, as the wagon approached the river, something else captured the runners’ attention. A Lynx was standing knee deep in the water!

Hearing the wagon approach, the Lynx turned and called out: “Yo-Ho! Who’s that? What goes there?”

“Some friends!” Helga called back.

“Friends!” the Lynx replied. “I could very much use some friends just now!”

“My name is Helga and we are runners on the Drownlands Cutoff Weekley wagon bound for Fool’s Gap. Who are you and how can we help?”

“Aye’t! Aye’t!” the rest of the runners shouted.

“I am a Climbing Lynx in the service of the High One, Lord of all the Hedgelands. My important mission to the Norder Estates has come to trouble. As ashamed as I am to admit it, through misfortune I have lost my way. With the High One impatient and his mission weighing heavily on me, I desperately need to get back on track. The kind station-master at the Drownlands directed me to Fool’s Gap saying that offered a passage back into the Hedgelands. Although that will much delay me, at least I can again find my way.”

“Tallo, Lynx!” Helga replied. “We have hurried along, hoping to catch up with you. Fool’s Gap is impassable and dangerous. You cannot go that way. Rest a bit here at Stupid Frog Shallows, then go with us on our route. We will find a better way for you to—”

Before Helga could complete her sentence, the Lynx exclaimed, “Stupid Frog Shallows! Did you say this place is called Stupid Frog Shallows?”

“Why, yes,” Helga said with surprise. “Do you know this place?”

“No,” the Lynx replied, “but my great-grandfather’s nickname was Stupid Frog—surely he must be connected with this place! The name ‘Stupid Frog’ is not in wide use, I imagine. There must be a connection.”

“How did your great-grandfather get his nickname,” Helga asked with astonishment.

“Family lore says that, as a young Lynx he was traveling in the wilderness. It was the season when there were many frogs in the water and my great-grandfather began eating every frog he could catch. His companions could not believe that he was eating something as disgusting as wild, uncooked frogs, and they kept yelling at him, ‘Don’t eat the stupid frogs! Don’t eat the stupid frogs!’ And, well, the nickname stuck.”

“You don’t know what your great-grandfather was doing here, do you?” Helga asked. “It’s very unusual to see a Lynx in the Rounds. In fact, I don’t think a Lynx has been seen in the Rounds in a long time.” The rest of the runners agreed that they’d never before seen or heard of a Lynx in the Rounds.

“I don’t know what brought my great-grandfather here. It would be interesting to know that, especially now that I know that this must be the place where he was.”

“This place is called Stupid Frog Shallows because in olden days there were many frogs here,” the running steward said. “It’s never been clear to me why the ‘Stupid’ was in the name, but the ‘Frog’ comes from the fact there used to be lots of frogs here. Maybe now we know where the ‘Stupid’ came from.”

“If ‘Stupid Frog Shallows’ comes from your great-grandfather,” Helga mused, “something must have happened that got his name associated with this place—maybe he came here many times?”

“Who knows,” the Lynx replied. “I have no idea. Interesting to ponder, though.”

“Yes, interesting to ponder,” Helga agreed.

“Come on, now,” the running steward urged, “we’ve got to get going soon, so cool off if you want, but be quick about it! We pull out in ten minutes.”

“Come on, Lynx,” Helga invited, “climb aboard and we’ll take you with us. We can figure out how to help you later.”

“Ah, you shouldn’t worry yourself about me,” the Lynx replied. “I have no fear either about my current prospects. I’ll ride with you to Fool’s Gap, then I must continue across the Borf lands to the Norder Estates. I am a royal Climbing Lynx on my first mission from the High One—I dare not end in failure.” The Lynx paused, looked over his new acquaintance, and continued, “You have found me as you wished and