A hefty man scurried forth through the night, his head covered by a plain brown cloak. Over his shoulder he looked, making certain that no one followed, his heavy chest heaving ever so slightly as he darted this way and that. He took solace by a tree for a moment, then paced himself to another, cautious of the night air.
He sat for a while on a boulder, catching his breath in the cool breeze. Pant, pant, pant went his lungs, until finally, he was ready. He gave three consecutive stomps on the ground with his foot, waited some seconds, then gave two more. From underneath him he could hear a slight stir. Glancing quickly around, he rose from the boulder and waited tentatively for something to happen.
The boulder shook for a moment, then toppled over completely, revealing the faces of three ugly men underneath. One of the men had a mustache and a walking staff, and he waved his hand fervently at Cosko – for it was he who had been running – and said, “Come, come now! Hurry-up!”
“Take it easy, Pommer,” said the fat man, beginning to lower himself in. “None follow. I was very careful.”
The other two Pooglie-Wooglies helped Cosko down, then grasped onto the rope that had been secured within the boulder and pulled it closed once again, re-covering the secret passage. Pommer replaced some of the dirt and shut the door. He turned to Cosko, and, in an authoritative tone, said, “Come. They are not far.”
…………………………………………..
“I’m sorry, Taylor,” Winkle Pooglie-Wooglie stated regretfully, “but I’m afraid this was the best that I could do.”
The horse that the Pooglie-Wooglies had stolen looked about as welcoming as a lion before dinner. His hair was raggedy, his heels nicked, his eyes randomly placed. Taylor thought it fitting. He shook his head.
“Are you sure this horse wasn’t abandoned?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Winkle said, looking him over, “but I suppose it’s possible.”
Taylor went to pet him, but the horse bit at his hand.
“Looks like he likes you,” Robert said.
“Sure seems like it.”
“They’re here, they’re here!”
The shout had come from one of the Pooglie-Wooglies nearby. When Taylor turned, he saw Pommer approaching with Cosko and two others. He ran to them.
“Are they all right?” he demanded.
Cosko was still somewhat out of breath.
“Tell me!” Taylor cried.
“They are alive,” the fat man gasped, raising his hand. “Rosemarie is well. She is being kept in the palace by herself. The rest are being kept in the Tower Dungeon, but the word I get is that none have died as of yet.”
“Who gives you this word?”
“Both a Guardsman and the gravedigger. Ten rupiks can get you a long way.”
Taylor waited for more. Robert came closer.
“It is rumored,” said the hefty messenger, “that the Dark Duke intends to marry your love. He is keeping her locked in the palace. From what I hear, though, she is well-fed.”
Taylor’s eyes were a fog. Cosko continued:
“It is suspected that he will announce their engagement on the Day of Pig. He has made little secret of it.”
“He is trying to tempt you,” Robert said.
“Well then he has done a good job of it,” Taylor returned. “The Day of Pig is only three days hence, and it will take me at least a day just to get to the palace in Dermer.”
“Then go now,” said Winkle.
Taylor turned to Pommer.
“You are sure that you can get me there and back, all within the time allotted?”
“Quite sure,” Pommer replied. “The only question is whether or not you will be able to convince them in time.”
“Let me worry about that. Do you have the map?”
“Yes,” said Pommer, pulling it from his belt. He unraveled it and spread it atop the horse’s back. “We will start here,” he said, pointing, “following this trail. It will lead us up over here, at which point we will depart onto this trail here. That will take us to within a mile of the palace.”
Taylor nodded.
“Then let us go. We do not have time to waste.”
Pommer snapped his fingers.
“Load up the horse,” he called.
The seven Pooglie-Wooglies that were to accompany them immediately set to this. Robert patted Taylor on the back.
“The Day of Pig, then,” he said. “I suppose it is all or nothing.”
“All or nothing,” Taylor said, thinking it over to himself. “Just don’t be late.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Robert replied. “I hope to see you there.”
Taylor smiled at him, bravely, hopefully.
“You will. I just hope I won’t be showing up alone.”
The two embraced.
“Good luck, Taylor. I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Now, don’t forget,” said Winkle, “be very careful. Many surprises may obstruct your path…and a dangerous path it is, I know. And watch for The Monster that we spoke of – a chance meeting with him could be the end of your voyage.”
“I understand.”
“We will attempt as best we can to avoid his path,” Pommer assured.
“But will it avoid yours?” the elder asked. He brought his finger to Taylor’s chest. “It thrives on blood, Taylor.”
“Yes, well, so does Pommer,” Taylor comforted. The old man was not assuaged. “We’ll be careful.”
Winkle nodded.
“Go then. Hurry.”
Taylor approached the ragged horse and, after sundry attempts, finally managed to mount himself upon its bony back. The animal started for a moment, but Taylor brought it quickly under control with a tug of the reins. It would be tough to trot with such a steed, but the cave grounds made trotting impossible anyhow. If only Taylor could have chanced an above-ground route, he thought.
He motioned to Pommer.
Four torches were lit, and gradually the ten men, eight Pooglie-Wooglies, one skinny villager named Rafey, and a king, all advanced down the dark corridor.
“We’ll see you in Belsden,” Winkle called. But even he did not know if they would make it so far.
Chapter 37
Troubles Abound