Chapter 3
Pros and Cons
Hank hated waiting.
He, Diana, Bobby and Uni were huddled up behind some stones, upwind of the small entrance tunnel they had found. They would have waited closer, but for the smell. If it had been bad yesterday evening, it was ten times worse today, and none of them could stomach getting any nearer. Uni had suffered particularly badly, and she kept very close to the Barbarian.
As it turned out, it was easy to track the Trogs. Hank had lead them back and they travelled as fast as they could, trailing their quarry deep into the mountain range, back the way they had climbed the previous day. Diana had found the tunnel entrance, partially concealed by rocks and they had decided to let Sheila go in on her own.
Hank had had second thoughts as soon as he'd seen the entrance and hadn't wanted to let her, but he quickly realised it was the only way; the tunnels were narrow and dimly lit with glowing torches. All it needed was a wandering Trog to spot one of them and they would have lost the vital element of surprise. So, reluctantly, he let Sheila pull up the Cloak and go down into the tunnels alone.
He had almost told her what he'd heard about the Trogs, but at the last minute he didn't. It wouldn't have changed her mind about going, and would probably just have made her more nervous. But he felt terrible for sending Sheila, unknowing, into such danger.
It was well into the afternoon by now. The Thief had assured them she would be as quick as she could, but she had already been gone for at least three hours. Hank tried to suppress a little shudder. He was more worried about her than his two missing friends; what if something happened to her this time? He never realised he would feel like this. He'd sent her into danger a number of times before, he knew she could take care of herself, but today he just couldn't stop worrying.
Bobby seemed calm, confident that his sister could cope, but Diana looked more nervous and unhappy than he'd seen her in a long time. She was taking this a lot harder than he'd guessed she would. Perhaps she'd been told what the Trogs were like, and knew that Presto and Eric were in terrible danger.
Hank didn't like admitting it, and he would never have admitted it openly to anyone (except perhaps Sheila), but he was more worried about the Magician than about the Cavalier. He couldn't play favourites, but the truth was that he had always liked Presto better than Eric. It wasn't exactly hard. Even at school, the Magician was a much nicer guy.
Presto had always looked up to him, and he had a tremendous amount of respect for the Magician in return. Not only had he admitted his error to the others in Mindril, he was obviously struggling with a weapon that was as temperamental as it was powerful. How many other people would keep going with the Hat? So what if he needed encouragement every so often? He'd always tried his best, even if that didn't always work well. And Presto had always been a good friend.
Then there was the Cavalier.
At the moment, after their little spat last night, Hank struggled to think of any good points about him at all. At the beginning of their "stay" in the Realm, Hank had disliked Eric, though he would never have let it show. He was sarcastic, and annoying, and cowardly, and selfish, and always managed to get them into trouble. There was nothing anyone could do that was good enough for that boy. He picked on Bobby, he teased Sheila, he pushed Hank's authority at every opportunity, he used Presto to boost his own fragile self-esteem and sniped at Diana in a vain attempt to get her to notice him.
There was one thing in particular that Hank really disliked about Eric; his tendency to run away at the slightest hint of trouble. OK, all of them had been scared, but the Cavalier had taken cowardice to a new level. And after it was all over, Eric would show up with no apology for his behaviour and that same smug look that said "I did nothing, but I'm still fabulous!". That look was just the worst.
But over the years, (was it really years?) Eric had slowly grown up, and Hank's dislike had matured into a reluctant tolerance, even though the unpleasant traits still bubbled just below the surface, ready to reappear at the slightest provocation. The few times he'd actually helped were usually motivated by self-interest; marrying the Queen of Zinn, for example. And then there was that time with the Warlock, when everyone thought that the Cavalier had gone home on his own and left them all behind.
Perhaps I should have left Eric that day. I could be with Sheila right now, safely back at home…
The Ranger took a deep breath, stopping the thought where it was. This wasn't going to help. He knew he'd made the right choice, the choice he'd have made for any of his friends. He was just taking his frustration out on the Cavalier because he was a convenient scapegoat. Eric wasn't the problem. Hank was just worried about Sheila.
She'd been gone far too long.
His heart gave a sickening lurch. He'd managed to loose two of his friends already today, what if she'd been captured too…
He shook his head, trying to get rid of the terrible images that though had created, and tried to think about something else. So, instead of thinking about his missing companions or the Thief, Hank tried to concentrate on what Dungeonmaster had said. You will find no allies…you must find the key to their trust. What were they going to do?
It made no sense at the moment, but the Ranger knew that the riddles seldom made sense until they were needed. It was always the way with Dungeonmaster. The riddles had always been right before, so there was nothing much to do except wait and hope.
Hank let out a loud sigh that made both Bobby and Uni jump. Wait and hope? What sort of options were those? How had he managed to get them into such a dangerous situation? For God's sake, what kind of leader was he?
He had just closed his eyes where there was a soft scuffing noise from the entrance hole.
Diana was up in an instant, her Javelin at the ready. Bobby had raised the Club and Hank himself had an arrow ready before he'd even realised what was happening.
Sheila... she was pushing herself out of the entrance hole.Her face was clear, she looked tired and dirty, but it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He felt the world tilt slightly as he rushed forward to embrace her.
She smiled up at him, trying to hug Bobby at the same time. Even held tightly in his arms, he could feel her shaking, and when he looked into her eyes he could see she was close to tears.
'I know I've been much longer than I thought,' said Sheila. 'I'm sorry.'
The worrying about the Thief was over, but from the tone in her voice he knew something really bad had happened. There will only be time to help one. Perhaps they were too late, he had delayed too long, he wasn't fast enough, he hadn't… Hank had to turn way, trying to stop the worry. Beside him, Diana asked the question he was unable to say.
'What's happened?'
The Thief had to walk for almost an hour before finding the Lair. Hank had only been able to guess at the distance, but he was way out. It was a very long way to walk and the tunnel wound round and down all the time. Unsure of the right way to go, she just followed the noxious smell to the centre of the mountain.
It was dim, and monotonous, and thankfully she met no Trogs as she went. And even though she tried, she couldn't stop thinking, but not about her two missing friends.
Hank. There was something worrying him, she knew.
It had taken him a few hours to recover from being held by the Darkling, but when he'd led them out of Mindril, it was with a confident air that she'd only seen a few times before. He was their leader, and he obviously felt the need to prove it after having to be rescued. And that meant making the decisions on his own. She had almost agreed with Eric last night; Hank should have heard what he had to say, he'd led them well against the Darkling. But she was far too loyal to voice her opinion in front of everyone. She had been going to mention it to the Ranger, then this had happened.
But it was more than that; his behaviour had changed after Dungeonmaster's appearance. She could tell there was something seriously wrong, and she desperately wanted to help him. But there were times when he would shut her out, even though he loved her, thinking it was for her own good.
She suspected he'd heard of Trogs before. The look on his face when Dungeonmaster had asked him what he knew was a dead give-away. But, even when the opportunity presented itself just before she'd left, he didn't open up and tell her what was wrong.
It was so frustrating that Hank wouldn't trust her. He would try and protect her, but that was a luxury they couldn't afford in this place. They had to work together. And, even though she loved him as much as he loved her, the fact that he wouldn't let her help just made her angry.
Gradually, more and more tunnels joined the main one, and it grew bigger and better lit. Then, just as the smell got almost overpowering, she began to hear noises. She slowed, then stopped to peep round the next corner. Ahead was the Troglodyte Lair.
And it was huge. At least the size of a football field and lined with small caves in the walls; it was difficult to tell the size accurately, as hundreds and hundreds of Trogs were milling about the centre, sending wafts of foul air up the tunnel. The whole place was buzzing with excitement, Sheila could sense it from her hiding place.
The Thief waited in the tunnel entrance for a short while. Even secure under her Cloak, she couldn't help feeling vulnerable. There was a lot was going on, the Trogs were everywhere.
As she watched them, she had a bad feeling inside. These guys weren't gonna be friendly. They looked vicious, and had a nasty smugness about them that made her very uncomfortable. Poor Presto and Eric. She just hoped they were OK.
She saw her chance to move when they Trogs all started shuffling closer to the far end of the cave. It still wasn't easy; movement was made all the more difficult because of their long, thick tails that swished out from side to side, she was almost hit a few times and quickly learned to keep out of their way. But it made her progress all the slower.
She crept around, keeping close to the wall, listening to what was going on and hoping to get some hint about the fate of her friends. The Trogs spoke with a heavy accent, but they were easy enough to understand.
Steel: that was the main topic of conversation wherever she went and whomever she listened to. And steel was somehow going to make this Clan rich and powerful beyond their wildest dreams.
This was not good news, considering what Dungeonmaster had said. They only went after Eric because of his armour and Shield. Was that the steel that they meant?
There was no chance to think about that question as, suddenly, the whole place seemed overcrowded with Trogs, and the Thief pressed herself against the wall, trying to keep out of their way. Far to the left, she heard a raised Trog-voice shout something incomprehensible. Then the whole Trog Clan raised their voices in reply, and the noise almost made Sheila's ears burst. She huddled down beside the wall, pressing her hands over her ears, waiting for the howls and shouts to stop.
From the floor, she couldn't see what was going on, only that the Trogs were heading off, down a tunnel next to the one she'd used. Sheila felt a huge surge of relief. Hank and the others would be safe; the Trogs weren't going that way. The thought of the Ranger made her smile, those gorgeous blue eyes, the way his hair curled round his ears, the way…
No! she told herself. The Trogs might be gone, but I still have to find Presto and Eric.
Slowly, the Lair emptied, as the Trogs shuffled out. Only when they were gone could she search in safety for her friends. But it was so big and confusing that she almost gave up hope of finding them at all. Where were they, what had happened to them?
Presto was like a brother, she cared about him in the same way that she cared about Bobby. They had been through so much together, and she knew Presto had come a long way from being that naïve and shy boy she'd known at school.
Then there was Eric. It was difficult to describe her feelings for him. There had been a time, quite recently too, when she'd almost hated him because of the way he'd teased her about being scared. But when it came down to it, she had a soft spot for the troubled Cavalier. And after their last run in with Venger, not to mention their fight against the Darkling, she'd realised that Eric had somehow managed to grow up, more than any of the others were aware of.
This isn't helping! she told herself. Stop worrying and get on with it! She had to find them, and quickly. She was the only one that could help.
Walking cautiously out into the centre, she took a slow look around. Apart from the tunnel she had come down, and the one the Trogs had left through, there were another four tunnels leading off in other directions. But the part that caught her attention was the steep, wide ramp that sloped down at the far end of the Lair. She tiptoed across, on edge in spite of the relative quiet. She almost pulled her Cloak off, but didn't at the last minute. In such a strange and frightening place, she should use all the advantages her weapon gave her.
She walked down the ramp, hearing strange noises from below.
At the bottom, there were four doorways, two on the left, two on the right.
The first room on the left was just a storeroom full of junk. The second room on the left had a huge thick door that had a big lock on it. She gave it a tentative pull, wondering what was behind it, but it didn't budge. It could be where Eric and Presto were, so she pressed her ear close and listened. But she heard nothing, and certainly not the loud, complaining noises that should have been heard from an annoyed Cavalier.
She turned back, and looked at the other two doors. Just as she was about to move, there was a noise that startled her, and a huge Trog lumbered into view from the upstairs, yanking the far door open with a snort. She froze, still nervous in spite of the Cloak.
Of course, she thought as she watched the Trog go through the door. They wouldn't leave this place unguarded.
It was by far the fattest Trog she'd seen, and it didn't have the happy air of the others; it was probably annoyed about being left behind and not going with the rest of the Clan. But she couldn't help giving a little smile. Since there was only a single guard, it should be easy to get the two boys out without being seen.
She peeked through the open door. The room beyond wasn't very large and she just waited, watching what it did next.
It sat down and started measuring out various liquids into a narrow flask, mumbling to itself all the time. Separately, the liquids smelt terrible, but when they were mixed together they created a stench so awful that Sheila had to wrap the end of her Cloak over her mouth and nose to stop herself from coughing. There was nothing in the universe that could have smelt THAT bad.
It sat for a number of minutes, pouring and mumbling then finally, it put a stopper in the flask and moved to leave, muttering about 'steel' as it stomped past her.
Intrigued and hopeful, she followed it through the last doorway, just in time to slide through the door before it slammed. But it moved faster than she'd thought, and it was through the big door at the other end of the hallway before she could follow it. Trapped for the moment, she waited. Presto and Eric could be behind that door, and this was an opportunity to check. If she got stuck, she would have to try and trick her way out, but she would worry about that it if happened.
The Thief moved round to beside the door, listening for any sign of the Trog Guard coming back. The door was thick and there was only silence for a long time, then there was the muffled sound of stomping feet. Sheila pressed herself against the wall, waiting for her chance.
The door swung outward and the Trog marched through, still muttering and Sheila darted into the other room, just managing to get through the door before it closed.
She gasped, having to hold her Cloak up again. It smelt even worse in here!
There were two thick, wooden cages that took up most of the room, each with a hefty looking lock on the door. One was empty, but Eric was in the other!
He was lying on the floor, naked but for his shorts. Sheila could here his quick, shallow breaths and even from a few feet away, she could see he was covered in small cuts and bruises.
She stood still is shock for a second, staring. In spite of the compassion she felt for Eric (often the one to end up in trouble), there was also the obvious question: Where was Presto?
Sheila finally managed to get her legs moving and, worried that the Guard might still be outside, she tiptoed across to the Cavalier. He was shivering, but his hair was damp with sweat, and he was weakly wiping green slime from his mouth. He definitely looked green too. She had thought it was just the low lighting.
Her heart sank. He looked so weak and helpless there was no way she could get him out of here on her own, that was for certain. Not with that one Guard left. She knelt down beside him, wondering what to do.
'Eric,' she whispered. 'Eric!'
He turned round to the direction of her voice. She recoiled at the dazed look on his face, and the blood-red rims to his eyes.
'Sheila?' he whispered back. 'Sheila! Am I glad to see you!' He frowned. 'It is you, isn't it?'
'Yeah,' she replied, pulling the Cloak back. She tried not to let the worry show on her face, but he sounded very ill. His voice was faint and he slurred every few words.
'What's happened?'
For a few seconds, the Cavalier was silent, as if he was trying to force himself to speak.
'You don't wanna know,' he managed.
'Huh?' she replied, confused. Since when had the Cavalier not wanted to talk about himself? Her worry increased, but before she could get more information, Eric spoke again.
'Have you seen Presto?' he asked. 'They took him a short while ago. The Clan are going to the Main Lair to meet the King.'
Sheila shook her head.
'I just saw some of them leaving, but I was at the back of the cave,' she said. 'I didn't see Presto.'
'Figures,' muttered Eric. 'They must have him near the Leader.'
The Cavalier looked off into the distance, and there was silence for almost a minute before Sheila realised Eric wasn't going to say anything else.
'I don't understand,' she said. 'Eric, you have to tell me exactly what's happened.'
'It's Pledge time for the Clan,' he said bitterly. 'They have to give their best slave to the King in some sort of ceremony.' There was a resentful emphasis on the word "best" that made Sheila wonder if Eric was jealous of the Magician, for once. 'They had decided to keep me and take Presto to meet the King.'
There was another pause, and Sheila's heart sank further. She could tell that he was keeping something back. It was so unlike Eric to keep silent.
'But why? Why keep you?' While the question might hurt his ego, she still had to know. The Cavalier hung his head. If she didn't know better, she would have said there were tears in his eyes. It took him a long time to start the next sentence.
'They think I can "make" steel,' he said. 'You know, grow it or something. They took my armour,' he gestured down at himself, 'and they keep me well fed, there's… this drink… and…' He stopped as Sheila realised what had been happening. That's what the Trog had been making. It made Eric drink THAT!
Her stomach tightened, and it was only because she hadn't eaten anything since last night that she wasn't sick there and then.
'Oh, Eric!' gasped the Thief. 'Are you OK?'
She saw Eric purse his lips, presumably biting back a smart comment. Was he really going to be OK after having being stripped, beaten and forced to drink that awful stuff?
'It's the best food they have,' whispered Eric, looking totally disgusted. 'And I can't believe this is happening.'
It was the nearest thing to an admission of being human that she'd ever heard from the Cavalier. Tears of sympathy formed at the back of her eyes and she blinked them away.
She looked at the solidly built cage. How was she gonna help him? How was she ever gonna get him out of there? It didn't look like he could stand, let alone walk. He was sitting very still, as if any movement would hurt. How could this have happened? But in the back of her mind was the whisper of another question: did Hank know what these awful creatures were capable of?
'Oh, Eric,' she whispered. The Cavalier looked away, obviously embarrassed by her sympathy. But there had to be something she could do or say to help.
'We saw Dungeonmaster,' she said, then wished she hadn't.
'Why doesn't my heart leap with joy at that statement?' said Eric looking back with a scowl. 'So what did the old fraud tell ya this time?'
'We will find no allies, but we have to find the key to their trust.'
'Who's trust? The Trogs?' asked Eric.
Shelia shrugged. Why did the old man have to give them a riddle? He obviously knew all about the Trogs, why couldn't he had told them something that would actually make things easier for once? And Hank hadn't been much help either… but perhaps he knew more than he had let on? Sheila didn't like that thought.
'Well, the Trogs are not gonna trust us, key or no key,' Eric told her. 'They are only interested in steel. Period.'
Sheila didn't say anything as the Cavalier closed his eyes again, and shuddered. Watching him was making her feel terrible. The Trog Guard could be back any minute, and there was nothing she could do. If only she'd got here sooner, while Presto was still in the cell too, she might have been able to help them both at the same time, but as it was…
Eric opened his eyes and looked up at her. There was something in his gaze that told her that he knew what she'd been thinking.
'Trogs might be big and lumbering, but they're not stupid!' he said. 'You've gotta trust me on this one! And they're not patient. Who knows how long they'll wait.' Sheila looked anxiously at him. He didn't mean what she thought he did, did he? 'I'm guessing it'll be marinated Cavalier for dinner if I don't come up with more steel for them soon.'
'Oh, Eric,' said Sheila, tears starting at the back of her eyes again.
'Please, stop saying that,' he said. 'It's not…'
He stopped, and began to shiver more violently. He screwed up his eyes and gave a low moan, then turned suddenly away to be sick. Sheila felt her own stomach contract again. This was a lot worse than she'd thought.
Eric turned back, still shaking, wiping the ooze and blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand.
'Time's running out,' he said. 'The King's Hall is under the biggest mountain, to the West. You've gotta find Presto.' An ugly look crossed him face. 'And you can tell our fearless leader from me that this would never have happened if we'd gone round!'
Shelia had no intention of doing any such thing, but she nodded anyway, just to please the Cavalier.
'I could try and get you outta here?' said Sheila, knowing that the chances of success were almost zero. That Trog Guard would soon see he was gone, and in his current condition the Cavalier wouldn't get far.
Eric shook his head very slightly.
'The guard… checks… on me every few minutes,' said Eric, and Sheila had the distinct impression that the "checks" weren't something Eric enjoyed. 'And you've gotta get back to the others. They've gotta go find Presto, before he gets to the King's Hall.'
'Before?'
Eric glared at her.
'Sheila, don't be dumb! The whole damn Trog kingdom is gonna to be there. You won't stand a chance!'
'But what about you?' she asked, her voice quiet. They both knew the answer and her question did nothing to improve the Cavalier's temper.
'Well, I'm not going anywhere, am I?' he snapped. 'I don't think I can stand up anymore, and you can hardly carry me! Besides, that stuff is making me feel… real… strange.'
She looked into his eyes for a long moment, suddenly understanding what he hadn't told her. That stuff was gonna kill him, and he could feel it working.
What was she gonna do?
There was a sudden noise at the door, and Sheila yanked the Cloak up. She saw Eric shudder.
'Get gone!' he whispered.
Sheila didn't move. Eric obviously knew her better than she'd thought, as he glared in her direction. The noises grew louder and the door started to open.
'I said get gone! Find Presto!'
'But…'
'You just don't have time,' Eric said. 'Go!'
The Thief had stopped talking, and was cuddling Bobby. She looked very upset.
'What happened next?' asked Hank.
'I sneaked out when the Guard opened the door.' She sniffed. 'I'm sorry Hank, but I didn't have a chance to get him outta there.'
In the piercing silence that followed, the Ranger looked towards the tallest mountain to the West, and in the almost the opposite direction from the Lair where Eric was.
This had all gone wrong.
The Lair was a lot further away than he'd anticipated. Backtracking would take too long, and they would loose the opportunity of finding Presto. The mountains were probably riddled with Trog tunnels; even finding the King's Hall would need all their skills. They couldn't afford to waste any more time.
He looked round at the others.
'We've gotta help Eric,' said Sheila. 'We can't leave him.'
'But what about Presto?' insisted Bobby. 'He needs us too!'
Diana didn't say anything at first, but as everyone looked at her she said:
'I don't know, Hank, I…just don't…'
Hank nodded understandingly. But now he was faced with the most difficult decision of his life. This was what Dungeonmaster meant. You will only have time to help one.
If they stayed to help Eric, then they would never have a chance to get Presto away from the King. But if they went after Presto, the chances were that the Cavalier would be dead before they had a chance to reach him.
There was only one, slim hope; that they could find and free Presto quickly, and back before the Clan returned. It was the only choice. So why does it feel like I'd just sentenced Eric to death? Why does it feel like I'd already made my choice, even before I heard what'd happened? And why does it feel like I'm only doing this because I like Presto better than Eric?
Sheila seemed to know what he was thinking, there was a dark, reproachful look on her face.
'What will we do, Hank?'
'Is Eric safe, for now?' he asked her.
'They're killing him,' she said bluntly. The Thief looked up, and Hank was surprised that her voice hadn't wavered. 'And if that… stuff… doesn't do it, the Trogs will themselves, when they don't get more steel.'
'We'll be able to get Presto and back in time,' he said.
'No!' replied Sheila, looking scared. 'It's not gonna work, Hank.'
They looked at each other. He knew the argument was about to escalate, and could tell that Sheila wanted to go and help the Cavalier, on her own if necessary. But he couldn't let them split up any more. It was bad enough as it was.
'I'm the leader and it's my decision,' he said sternly. 'We need you with us to get Presto. We have to leave Eric and just hope.'
Sheila was appalled.
'We can't leave him, Hank! Please! You didn't see what they did to him! We have got to help!'
'And Presto?' he asked. 'We don't have time to save them both. We can't just leave Presto without trying to help, even Eric himself told us to go get him.'
Sheila glared up at him, tears on her cheek. He hated himself for doing this. OK, so Eric could be a jerk, but he was one of the group, even if he didn't act like it all the time. Only it feels like I'm turning my back on him just because we had an argument.
And another thought bothered him. If it had been a different choice, if Sheila had been the one held captive by the Trogs, he would have moved Heaven and Earth to get her out, and absolutely nothing would have stood in his way.
Looking round at his friends, he realised he would have to be decisive. He felt terrible for leaving the Cavalier, but Presto needed them more. It really was that simple. He pulled himself up as tall as he could. He was the leader, after all.
'We have no choice,' he told them. 'We're going to find Presto.'
