Troll Mountain: The Complete Novel

Chapter 12

The sight took Raf’s breath away.

It was magnificent. It made the realm of the hobgoblins look like an anthill.

From his position to the south-east of it, Troll Mountain stood before him like a giant, rising boldly out of the middle of a circular canyon, surrounded by lesser peaks. And while all the mountains around it were as black as the night, it was of a different color, a powerful deep gray.

Access to the mountain appeared to be from one point only, a long swooping rope-bridge that stretched from a small stair-equipped pinnacle to the mountain.

The rope-bridge met Troll Mountain at a heavily fortified watchtower that, according to Düm, was known as the Main Gate. As was the trolls’ custom, this watchtower — like all the other ones Raf could see on the mountain — was adorned with curved wooden tusks so that it appeared to have frightening horns.

A long and very magnificent staircase rose directly from the Main Gate to an arched doorway situated in the exact heart of the mountain. Flanking this arch were a pair of high ornate windows sunken into the stone.

“Behind arch and windows is Great Hall of the Mountain King,” Düm said solemnly. “Is where Troll King holds court.”

At the summit of the mountain was a stupendous structure — a wide open-air space dominated by an elevated throne. Four immense pillars sculpted from the actual rock of the mountain supported a roof-like structure that, it seemed to Raf, had once been the original peak of the mountain. Two banners mounted above the open-air throne flapped and fluttered in the gusts of the mountain range.

“That king’s Winter Throne Hall,” Düm said. “During colder months, Troll King holds court up there. Trolls like cold.”

“What’s that thing sticking out from the side of it?” Raf asked.

Jutting out from the eastern edge of this open-air space, high above the flank of the mountain, was a circular wooden platform, constructed so that it was level with the space but separated from it by a gap of about ten feet.

“Is Fighting Platform,” Düm said quietly. “Is where challenges are settled.” The big troll lowered his eyes, reminded of his shame.

Raf looked further up the magnificent mountain.

Above the king’s winter throne, encircling the summit of the mountain like a crown, was a crenellated battlement. The tiny figures of two trolls could be seen patrolling it.

Higher still above this battlement, at the mountain’s absolute summit, was a final watchtower that looked out over the entire mountain range. It was called the Supreme Watchtower, Düm said. A flag fluttered from its flagpole three thousand feet above the great mount’s base.

Down at that base, Raf saw a crude dam constructed of hundreds of troll-stacked boulders. A huge body of water had backed up behind the dam but only a thin waterfall poured over it — this was the dam that blocked up the river.

The dam’s meager waterfall fed a muddy moat that all but encircled the mountain. It appeared to be a bog of gripping mud like the one Raf had seen at the Broken Bridge — only this bog ringed the mountain on three sides. The lake behind the dam protected the fourth side.

Raf gazed in awe at the stupendous mountain.

“How could trolls build such a wonder?” he asked.

Düm said, “Trolls no build Troll Mountain. Trolls find it deserted many years ago. So trolls just move in and make it theirs.”

Raf threw a questioning glance at Ko.

The old man shrugged. “The work of the same race of men who dug the mine that became the hobgoblins’ kingdom. They built great watchtowers like this from which they could look out over their vast empire. But then they suddenly retreated south, leaving their watchtowers empty.”

Atop every watchtower on the mountain — in addition to the horns the trolls had added — were small glowing fires.

“What are they?” Raf asked.

“All’s Well fires,” Düm said. “If a watchtower’s fire burns, then all is well at watchtower. If fire goes out, then trolls know something wrong at that tower.”

Ko added, “Another creation of the original builders. Those who rule by force soon find that they have many enemies.”

Raf turned back to face the mountain.

“Düm,” he said. “I thank you for bringing me here and explaining these things to me. I have just one more question for you and when you answer it you may consider yourself relieved of your debt.”

“Yes, Master Raf.”

“Where does your king keep his fabled Elixir?”

Düm swallowed. “Düm should not tell, but Düm owe Master Raf life debt …” He paused, wrestling with this dilemma, but then said, “Life debt is life debt. Elixir is kept in most secure place in Troll Mountain: in Supreme Watchtower, at summit of mountain, higher even than winter throne. That is where king keep wise old troll Vilnar imprisoned, to work on his potions. King have Vilnar guarded day and night. You see guards up there now.” He nodded at the two tiny figures patrolling the battlement ringing the summit of the mountain.

Raf gazed intently at the highest watchtower.

“Master Raf,” Düm said. “Not even trolls can get into Supreme Watchtower. If you are discovered in Supreme Watchtower stealing Elixir, trolls rip you limb from limb and eat you while you watch.”

Raf said, “My sister is dying, Düm. So are my people.” His jaw tightened. “I have no choice.”

Raf then kneeled and extracted some yams from his pack and bit into them hungrily. He figured he should eat now because he’d need energy later.

“Young Raf,” Ko said, “forgive me, it’s been a long while since I had the flush of youthful confidence, but how exactly do you intend to get across to the mountain undetected?”

Raf jerked his chin at the rope-bridge, spoke with his mouth full. “I’m going to use the trolls’ very own bridge.”