Troll Mountain: The Complete Novel

Chapter 20

Düm yanked Ko into the Great Hall like a stubborn dog on a leash. Ko’s beautiful gold rope was tied around the hermit’s throat and the old man’s hands were bound.

Ko tripped as Düm tugged on the rope, dragging him forward.

Düm called loudly: “Trolls! I Düm! Recently, I flee from Troll Mountain after refusing challenge from Prince Turv! Now I come back, humbly seeking audience with king to present this captive as payment for my return to tribe!”

Up on the throne, the king and his rogues all turned, smirking but curious.

The prince named Turv looked down upon Düm with particular disdain.

“Father,” Raf heard Turv whisper, “this is the dragger I told you about.”

The king turned. “The one who opposed your marriage to Graia?”

“The very same.”

Raf was confused. Had Düm turned on Ko? It seemed very unlikely. Or perhaps this was something else—

“Speak, dragger!” the king said imperiously.

Düm swallowed, clearly nervous to be addressing the king.

“Düm find this hermit in Badlands, sire.” Düm pulled up a stone sled behind him. On it were six small green barrels — the same barrels Raf had seen in Ko’s hovel in the swamp: with written on them and candlewicks sticking out of their lids.

“Düm also find these barrels in old man’s hut: barrels filled with dark salt.”

The crowd murmured. Salt was a greatly prized delicacy in these parts. To have salt on one’s food was a privilege reserved only for the elite and even then, only when it was available — and here was Düm offering the king six barrels of the stuff.

But as Raf knew, those barrels did not contain salt …

And for the briefest of moments, Raf felt a flutter of hope. Düm was carrying out a plan.

Düm said stiffly, “Düm bring barrels to king as extra payment for his crime, in hope that gift will absolve Düm of his insult to Prince Turv. But Düm know his fate rest in king’s hands.”

Düm bowed his head.

The king pondered him for a long moment, his mean eyes calculating.

He said, “To decline a challenge is the gravest crime in our society, dragger. It is not something I forgive lightly. However, I can see, with these gifts, you have gone to some trouble to make amends.” He looked at the crowd. “As it is my son’s wedding day and the insult was made against him, I shall let Prince Turv decide your fate. Turv? Do you seek to enforce your challenge against this dragger or do you accept his payment and release him from his obligation?”

Turv looked long and hard at Düm, then glanced at the watching crowd of trolls.

As the future king, Raf realized, the decision Turv made here was important. He could be seen as capricious and hard, or benevolent when the occasion called for it. That Düm had also brought the “salt” barrels as an extra gift was clever — it made it very hard for Turv to turn him down.

In fact, Raf thought, it was actually too clever for Düm, and it made Raf wonder if this had not been Düm’s plan at all …

“I accept both gifts and allow Düm back into the tribe,” Turv said in a loud voice.

The crowd of trolls nodded and clapped approvingly.

But then another voice cut the air.

Ko’s voice.

“Your most wise and excellent majesty. May I speak?” the old man said in his polite way.

The king leaned back on his throne. “Amuse me, human.”

“I have heard it said by trolls who wander in the Badlands that before you were king, you embraced the challenge of battles on the Fighting Platform.”

Raf frowned. Ko was putting unusual emphasis on certain words: king, challenge, Fighting Platform.

The king sat higher on his throne. “You hear correctly. I was the previous king’s champion, undefeated on the Fighting Platform.”

“Will there be any fights during this wedding feast?”

There it was again, Raf thought. The odd emphasis on certain words. The trolls didn’t seem to notice it, but he did.

The king said, “I imagine there will be, old man, especially if the mead is flowing. Why? Do you want to challenge somebody?”

The assembled trolls laughed loudly. The king enjoyed his own joke.

Ko smiled. “Oh, no, no, your majesty. I only ask that when you are done with your activities tonight, you release me.”

Ko never looked at Raf as he spoke — not even a glance — but Raf now knew that Ko was addressing him and not the king.

Raf furrowed his brow, trying to figure out the meaning behind Ko’s cryptic words: king, challenge, Fighting Platform, during the wedding feast, and when you are done with your activities tonight, you release me.

No … he thought.

It couldn’t be …

Was Ko suggesting …

But that was madness.

Ignorant of the secret messages being passed, the king just laughed at Ko’s words. “Ha! Release you! My generosity only goes so far, old man. When this night is over, I will be sucking the marrow from your bones!”

Ko’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, dear …”

Turv stepped in. “Guards. Take the old man to the cells on the western wall.” He turned to Düm: “And you, dragger, take those salt barrels and ready them, we shall make use of them tonight. The whole tribe shall enjoy your gift. Then return to your duties: after all, we have a feast to prepare!”

Ko was taken away to the cells. Düm dragged his stone sled toward the kitchen area on the eastern side of the hall.

Raf was watching them both — still thinking about Ko’s message — when, from his position in his suspended cage, he heard Turv say in a low voice to his lackeys: “Later tonight, after I am wed, bring Düm to the Fighting Platform, unarmed. There I shall take my hammer to his knees until he begs me to end his life.”

The prince’s cronies cackled.

Raf could only watch Düm dragging his sled toward the kitchen area, head bent, shoulders hunched, unaware that he had just been sentenced to die.