Helga: Out of Hedgelands - Rick Johnson (a court of thorns and roses ebook free TXT) š
- Author: Rick Johnson
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Book online Ā«Helga: Out of Hedgelands - Rick Johnson (a court of thorns and roses ebook free TXT) šĀ». Author Rick Johnson
In just a few steps, the troop descended into a dingy, stinking chamber. Two massive iron doors, at least seven inches thick, stood open to admit them, with Skull Buzzard guards to each side. Helga gasped at what she saw: dozens of beasts standing nearly knee deep in water, each chained to rusty iron rings attached to the ceiling! Sea-beasts crowded together, packed on top of one another, pressed into the dismal, flooded, suffocating stench of unwashed bodies and molding clothesāHelga nearly screamed at the sight! Not a single breath of fresh air moved in the dreary chamber. Only beasts with hearts of steel could possibly endure in such a place.
āWelcome to the Butter Dock, Slime-bags,ā Fetor announced. āStep right in and join the crew of the Daring Dreamātheyāve been awaiting your arrival.ā Fetor laughed, then continued, āBut donāt get too comfortable because you wonāt be here long. As soon as we get these lazy scum ready to go, weāll be heading for Tilk Duraow.ā
āYou know of Tilk Duraow, I suppose?ā Fetor asked with sly sarcasm. āPerhaps its considerable fame has reached your ears? Ah, yes, that great, magnificent, wide open, yawning abyssāthat miraculous, glorious bottomless pit, from which come the precious stones to build Maev AstutĆ©! How could your heart not burn to cut those stones?ā A malignant smile played across Fetorās odd crooked mouth, dripping with a constant flow of drool.
āJust imagine with me the immense iron buckets forever passing up and down on their rattling, clanking chains! The creaking and groaning of gears and pulleys! Ah, the music of it! And think of the armies of beasts like yourselvesāworking on those vertical walls of stone, nearly a thousand feet from base to topāreduced to the appearance of ants crawling upon the massive walls. Some crawl across those wondrous walls on spider-web like ropes; others on ladders lashed together many dozens of feet in length, warped by the distanceāOh! What a joy! And especially for those lucky beasties clinging to the blasting baskets! Hear them hammering, āTap-Tap-Tap,ā as they drive an iron bolt into the solid rock to make a cavity for blasting powder! Then, who sets the powder and lights it? Why the beastie on the basket!!! Quickly now, light it, and, Heave Ho, get them out of the way! Maybe! HA-HA-HA-HO!ā
Fetor paused, slowly wiping drool off his chin, brow furrowed, as if remembering something. āAh, yes, I almost forgotāeveryone gets to enjoy the blessings of Tilk Duraow. The female Wood Cow has been chosen to be a Tilk Duraow runnerāso she wonāt be going with you.ā The Wolf turned to the Skull Buzzards and said, āYou two take the Wood Cow to Norder Crossingsābut watch her closely, I can see sheās a pack of trouble if you take your eyes off herāHeh-Heh-Hehāwhich is exactly why sheāll make a good runner.ā
āI am not willing to allow her to go!ā Christer exploded. āI demand to go in her place!ā
āWilling, you say?ā Fetor said, bemused. āThe question is whether I am willing, my dear fellow, and, sad to say for your hopes, I am not willing to accept your offer of service.ā
āYou are nothing but a bald, musically untalented tyrant,ā Christer remonstrated.
āIt will be wiser not to criticize my music,ā Fetor warned with a sarcastic tone. āBeasts with their feet in the chains I own do not have a very good record of correcting my playingāor in opposing me in any other way. I suggest you just settle down and enjoy the walk to Tilk Duraow.ā
āAnd if I should refuse that kind offer?ā Christer asked.
āIn that case, Iām afraid I might have to prevail on your young female friend here to help me make you more reasonable,ā the Wolf replied.
The icy note of warning in Fetorās response was not lost on Christer. Glancing helplessly at Helga, he said, āBelieve me, Fetor, I will do as you say, but only that I may one day hope to see you splattered across the rocks of your precious Tilk Duraow. Mark my words.ā
A Dragonwackerās Work
Rain at Norder Crossings was never normal. At Norder Crossings it rains like a dam has broken and the lake dumps on the unfortunate beasts below. But this time the rains were especially bad. Rivers were so swollen that caravans could not cross. Bridges were destroyed. Roads washed away. The very important monitor train to the Hedgelands was so long delayed that many merchants and traders were facing ruin. When at last the sun shone after weeks of rain, every merchant in town was in the market square at dawn, pushing and haggling for all he was worth. Everyone was making up for lost time; each moment precious.
Ankle-deep water still filled the streets in some places. Colonel Snart, Monopole of the caravan, slogged along, making final checks of the monitors being loaded.
āThat knot wonāt get any tighter if you pull on it another week,ā he fumed as a weary Wolf fumbled to secure the ropes holding packs in place on a monitorās back. āGive it to me! Iāll pull it tightāyou get over there and help Raskin load those barrels on the wagon. You pull your weight you bumbling idiot, or youāll be carrying packs just like the monitors.ā The tired, cold Wolf bowed to the Monopole and backed away with head bowed.
āWe pull out in an hour!ā Colonel Snart yelled after the Wolf, loudly enough to be heard all along the line of beasts working feverishly to load the monitor train. āAny more delays and weāll miss the last of the Trading Daysāif that happens, more than a few of you will be breaking rock at Tilk Duraow!ā
The impact of the threat was immediate. All along the line beasts increased the speed of their frantic efforts to ready the monitor train for departure. No beast wanted to be sentenced to the slave-works at the Granite Hulks of Tilk Duraow. There, slaves broke and cut rock that was used to build the great castle of Maev AstutƩ. It was dangerous, often deadly, work. A troublesome beast could easily find himself swinging in a rickety basket at a dizzying height above the ground sawing huge pieces of granite loose. Without warning, chunks could break away and knock the unfortunate beast to the rocks far below. It was an unpleasant business.
Slurrp! Slosht! āAhhhh, thatās better.ā Coming from behind him, the sound caught the Monopoleās attention. A young Wolf sat on the open tailgate of a wagon pouring water out of his boots and wringing water out of his soaked trouser legs. Seemingly unaware that anything was amiss in what he was doing, the good-humored Wolf hummed a song as he tried to dry himself.
Oh the rains are wet and me boots overflowā
A-me-a-my-hum-me-de-me
Me fieldās awash and Iām growinā gillsā
Alas, me potatoes are drowninā
A-me-a-my-hum-de-me-de-meā
KA-CHUNK! Colonel Snart whacked the Wolf across the head with the blunt end of his pike.
āGet on with it!ā the Monopole screamed at the poor, confused Wolf. āLoad the packs, you empty-brained sluggard!ā
āNow, Iāll be begginā your pardon, lord,ā the Wolf replied. āIām not bound to your cargo, nor likinā the thanks you gave me for my business. Iām a farmer, not your personal puncher-beast. I bought my goods from Mr. Peets, as I assume youād be glad I did as he pays your wages. So, Iāll be pleased if youād leave off with beatinā on me head!ā
āGet your sluggard bottom off of my wagons, if youāre not a caravan beast,ā Colonel Snart responded coldly. āThat will be my thanks for your businessāyouād best be thanking your own good luck that I did not split your skull. Mr. Peetsā affairs are Mr. Peetsā affairsāand as thereās no other place to buy what you need, Iām sure youāll be keeping your complaints to yourself. Now, move your sluggard bottom off of my wagon.ā
Despite the angry words and ill-treatment, the good-natured Wolf smiled as he pulled on his boots. Shouldering his pack, the Wolf farmer picked up his walking staff and moved away from the monitor train. Pausing just before he turned a corner and went out of sight, he called back, āAt the end, you know, we all end up at Tilk Duraow. See you there.ā Then, he was gone.
The Wolfās curious comment left puzzled looks on the faces of every beast that heard it, except for Colonel Snart. The color drained from the Monopoleās face and he leaned on his pike, breathing heavily. Sudden dizziness had come over him and he struggled to stay upright, gasping for breath. Looking strangely pale and shaken he wobbled off, muttering. āWheesh...gashp...wheesh...not Tilk Duraow for me...youāre a lying beast...wheesh...ā
Colonel Snart staggered a few steps beside the caravan before stumbling heavily against a huge monitor being loaded by one of the Dragonwackers. Grabbing frantically to keep from falling, the Monopole caught hold of the heavy rope lashings, stopping his fall. The Wolf had hardly touched the monitorās pack-harness when the beast lunged violently to the side, toward the Colonel, hissing ferociously and snapping its massive jaws.
āAYYYYAWWWWH!ā Colonel Snart yelled in startled surprise as the lizardās jawsāfilled with two-inch, razor-sharp teethāsnapped shut, catching the edge of the Colonelās coat-sleeve tightly within them. With a turn of his powerful head, the monitor jerked the Monopole toward it, making the next snap of the jaws certain to bloody Colonel Snart himself. The monitorās horrid-smelling breathāsaid to be the worst odor anywhereāshot out in huge putrid gusts. Pulled off balance by the monitorās jerk, Colonel Snartās face dropped directly into the stream of loathsome breath. Gagging at the vile stench, the Monopoleās stomach churned and he felt as if he would pass outāthe usual next step for a beast falling prey to a monitor attack.
The Dragonwacker reacted instantly to the danger. Leaping on top of the monitorās wide head, he began jumping up and down, pounding the lizard on the head with his heavy boots. āTorff ta Mit! Salamy! Torff ta Mit!ā the Dragonwacker yelled, giving commands to the monitor.
Slowly the giant lizard calmed down and, after a few more jumps on its head, the fearsome creature released its bite on the Monopoleās coat. Slick, gooey-looking drool glistened in heavy globs on the Colonelās clothing where the monitorās bite had ripped away much of the arm of his coat.
āDenāt ya tetch the druul,ā the Dragonwacker warned. āItās wersāna bite of thāa dragen hirāsilf! Here ser, drepāit ceat in thāa buckit. Thiān Iāll be burnāit fer ya.ā
The Colonel heeded the warning, carefully removing his coat and handing it over to be burned. Every beast he had ever known that had been bitten by a monitor had died. Monitor bites were not poisonous, but as their stinking breath suggested, their filthy mouths were filled with all manner of loathsome bacteria. A āfortunateā beast that survived a monitor bite and escaped soon saw his fur falling out and the skin rolling up all around the wound. The deep slashing bite wounds always became badly infected. It was rare for a beast with a monitor bite to survive more than a day or two.
āLuuk here, Mastir, ya git carāliss like that againārip-snap-gulp, and yaāre a mimery. Yaās bāin riāund ta dragins ling eniāugh ta kniw ta dangir. Whatās git inta yaās skull? Ta draginās billy dināt hild ta niceties iā rank. Yaās just pewirful lucky that ta meniāters have just had tarās liāading miāalāya kniw that makās thim sliāipy and sluggish fir a few hours. But dināt be fuuledāya disturb tarā napping, like ya did, and
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