Chatper 2, Part i

Chapter the Second

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!”

Aric rolled up his map and bit his lip sternly. He had ridden this poor horse nonstop all night – his aching thighs wouldn't let him forget it – but he was still only halfway to Dunberg. He had to get to that book first!

“I need more time,” he muttered to himself as he sat on a rock. He impatiently tapped his foot on the frosted weeds as he watched his exhausted horse slurp up water from a pond.

As soon as the creature finished, Aric mounted and they set off again.

An hour or so later, as the sun was finally making its way into the sky, he decided to stop at a tiny village in the woods and see if he could get some food. He sidled sorely into a trader's house. The place was piled high with sacks of vegetables, potatoes, and other things that Aric didn't care to name (or eat,) but empty of traders. “Hello?” he called out into the chilly air. “Is anyone here?”

Suddenly, Aric heard a commotion across the street: a very angry sort of commotion. Recognizing the shouts and rabble-rousing cries as the first signs of an angry mob, he gingerly pushed the door ajar and peeked out.

Sure enough, there was a full-fledged mob gathered in front of one of the wooden houses, complete with pitchforks and hoes. Some cheeky citizen had even brought along a torch, even though it was already light outside, just for the effect. Aric couldn't help a wry smile at a mob well organized.

“Are we going to let these monsters invade our town?” bellowed a scruffy-looking man, obviously the ringleader.

“No!” roared the mob.

“Are we going to let them kill our livestock and destroy our homes?”

           

“No!”

           

“Then we have to show those Toves who's in charge of the noble city of Thrimton!”

           

The crowd pumped its farm implements in the air and cheered violently. At a signal from their chief, the crowd started marching away.

           

Aric absently took some dried something or other from the wall and left a few coins on the counter. So they've got Tove problems, too, he thought as he slipped out the door and untied his horse. But what are Toves doing so deep into human territory? There's no Borogrove nearby that I know of...

           

He couldn't stop thinking of the mob and the Toves it was intending to destroy, even as he swung himself up onto his beast. Toves are people too, he thought. He sat still, holding the reins idly in one hand. It's all just a misunderstanding, they would never maliciously attack human settlements... But I don't have any time, I might already be too late as it is...

           

The mob was getting farther away, but their war-cries were getting louder and louder. Memories of his childhood flickered through his mind, and before he knew it he had made a decision. Aric cracked the reins and swerved his horse around and began following the crowd of angry villagers.

           

They were heading into a brown, stubbly field, toward the only house in sight. As quickly and as subtly as he could, Aric spurred his horse into a line of trees, circling around the field and the mob, making his way toward the little wooden farmhouse. The angry cries echoed over the frozen expanse and made Aric's mind return to a time he had thought was forever buried in his past.

           

The grown-ups were running everywhere, shouting to be heard over the noise and chaos. A little boy scurried back and forth, but nobody stopped to look at him as he cried out for help. He felt scared and alone...

           

The walls suddenly burst open, and dozens of dark, furred creatures spilled into the orphanage. There were more screams, and the little boy fled in the confusion. Nobody noticed him leave. He coughed and choked on the dust and smoke in the air, but he kept running and running because he didn't know what to do or where to go...

           

When the dust cleared a little he found himself in the middle of a brown and stubbly field, where he was surrounded by the chaos of battle. The ground shook as fire rent the sky and lit up the world for a moment; then more fire, more terrified screams. The boy tried to run but he tripped on something and fell flat on the ground, scratching himself on the rocks. His arms and legs shook violently with fear, and he couldn't stand up...

           

Aric pulled his horse to a stop behind the wooden hut. With his jaw set in determination, he leaped from the saddle, sprinted to the back door and shoved it open.

           

“They'll be here any second,” Aric pointed out curtly. The brown-furred Tove just stood there gawking at him.

           

Suddenly, in the next room, the door broke down and the mob spilled into the house shouting for the “beast” to come out into the open where they could see him. The terrified Tove dropped all the food he was holding and dashed toward the open back door, but Aric caught him and hissed Tovish words into his ear.

           

“You can either come with me, or go with them. It's your choice.”

           

He looked up at Aric with green eyes wide with panic and confusion. Then the mob exploded into the kitchen, pitchforks and rusty swords raised. They stopped, however, when they saw Aric standing between them and their prey, and they quailed with indecision.

           

Aric took advantage of the split second of hesitation. “Gentlemen, gentlemen! Please! Why all the fuss?” He swaggered forward with a sweeping gesture. “All dressed up without a party to go to!” Nobody said a word; they all shifted uneasily and looked at each other for direction.

           

Someone near the back hefted his garden trowel and announced, “We're here for the Tove!” which statement was supported with a halfhearted cheer from the rest.

           

Aric scoffed and shook his head. “Tsk, tsk. My friends, this is all just a big misunderstanding. Why, my Billie here wouldn't harm a fly! Right, Billie?”

           

“Yes sir,” he humbly responded. He was quicker than he looked, Aric noted.

           

“In all the years I've known him – since he was a wee babe, not even old enough to talk yet – he's been the nicest little companion a body could ask for.” Aric stepped back and wrapped his arm jovially around the Tove's shoulders. “Why, I'd even say that he--”

           

“That's enough out of you,” said the scruffy man that Aric recognized as the leader of the group. The responsible citizen advanced threateningly. He held a woodcutter's axe in both hands, and it looked a little sharper than necessary for woodcutting. “If you're a friend of the Toves, you're no friend of ours!”

           

“Yeah!”

           

“Kill the Tove!”

           

“Stick 'im!”

           

I guess I went a little to far, Aric grumbled to himself. His mind raced as he glanced around the room, backing slowly toward the door, wondering how they would get out of this with their skins intact.

           

The leader grinned maliciously. “Not so brave now, are ya?”

           

“Nope!” Aric yelped, and tossed a bag of flour at the man. It nicked his axe and exploded, filling the room with white dust. In the confusion he dragged the Tove out the back door and leaped onto his horse. “Get up!” he shouted at his furry companion, who managed to scramble up onto the horse  just as the mob found its way through the back door. Aric dug his heels into the horse's flanks and they lurched into a gallop.

           

Soon they were as far as the forest, and the angry mob was nothing more than a few distant specks with a single torch blazing in the morning light.