"Maybe we should've come up with some sort of strategy before we did this," called Stan.
"Well, they weren't supposed to have guards on this side of the bridge," Roderick complained as he jumped up from the poster and backed further onto the bridge, as one of the trolls lumbered onto the bridge toward him.
"Don't you remember?" called Stan. "At the last bridge, there were guards coming from the far side of the bridge after the alarm was given."
"Now you tell me this!" exclaimed Roderick, drawing his sword as he kept an eye on the troll in front of him and tried simultaneously to glance back over his shoulder for guards approaching from the other side of the bridge. "At least it's a wide river, and a long bridge," he added.
"Yeah, tell me about it," Barbara said, wringing some of the moisture out of the hem of her dress.
"Hey, Barbara," Roderick called, as he heard footsteps approaching him from behind. "You're our resident lore expert. Can trolls swim?"
Barbara pondered that for a moment, and shrugged. "I don't think so. In 'The Three Billy Goats Gruff', when the biggest billy goat knocked the troll off the bridge, then the troll was never heard from again."
"Good," said Roderick, and dove over the bridge railing. There was a tremendous splash, followed by muffled burbling from below.
Stan glanced in the direction of the river. "Does he remember that he couldn't swim very well with his armor on?"
Johnson backed up another step and ducked a sweeping blow from the troll's gigantic club. "Somehow," he said, "I don't think he much cares at the moment."
"Good point," said Stan, backing in the direction of the road, where Bob and Doug were already waiting, weapons drawn. "Somehow, we just aren't having a very good week here."
On the bridge, the troll had slowly turned around and was lumbering back toward the shore. The guards from the other end of the bridge had caught up, but the bridge was a narrow wooden one, and there was no room for them to get past the slow-moving giant of a troll. One of the guards crowded a little too close to the troll, and in irratation, it swatted him right off the bridge. There was another splash. The remaining four guards quickly backed off and gave the troll a little more room.
"Hey," Johnson said suddenly, "I'm the biggest one of us here, right?"
"Uh, yeah," said Stan, turning to parry a sword swing from Bob. "That's why you're taking on the troll, and I'm just going after two guards."
"Well, if I'm the biggest of us three fighters," Johnson said, "then that would make me the biggest billy goat gruff." And he turned and charged toward the bridge.
"Uh, I'm not really up on my fairy tales," called Stan. "Just what does that mean?"
The troll on the bridge grunted as Johnson approached, and raised its club, but Johnson lowered his shoulder and rammed full-tilt into the troll's stomach. The troll fell over, crashed through the bridge railing, and fell into the water with a tremendous splash. This was immediately followed by two smaller splashes, as the two guards who had been knocked off by the troll's flailing arms followed it into the water.
"Ah," said Stan. "I think I like that story." He parried another slash from Bob, and stumbled backward to avoid one from Doug, then stumbled forward to avoid a swing from the remaining troll's club. "Now as soon as you could get back over here, please? I'd appreciate it, thanks."
Johnson, however, was momentarily occupied with the two remaining guards on the bridge. However, they were all briefly distracted by a brief screech from the water, followed by a deafening thwoosh and a sound of rushing water. Johnson and the guards looked at each other, then all went to the railing to look. There were three guards swimming madly for shore, and no sign of the troll. Johnson looked at the guards with a shrug, and they resumed fighting.
A sloshing noise heralded the return of Roderick to the fray. He brought his sword down on the top of the troll's head, with a tremendous clang. The troll paused, and looked stupidly around at Roderick, then swung its club at him.
"Thanks for distracting him, Roderick," called Stan, dancing around another slash from Bob.
"Uh, right," said Roderick. Then he noticed that there was a tendril of smoke rising from the top of the troll's head. The troll seemed to notice it at about the same time, and reached up to rub the spot. "Ow," it said in a deep, guttural voice.
Roderick looked down at his sword, which was still wet from the river. "Oh," he said. And with that, he tossed his sword aside, leapt up, grabbed hold of the troll's arm, swung his body up, and clamped his legs around the arm like it was a tree branch.
The troll let out a hoarse scream and thrashed its arm around violently. Roderick lost his grip and slipped off, and went hurtling into a clump of bushes. Thorn bushes, as it happened. He let out a scream of his own, though a much shriller one.
He stumbled to his feet, and saw a bizarre sight: The troll was running madly in circles, waving its arm around its head. Smoke was pouring from its arm, large patches of which were rapidly turning black.
Steadying himself on his feet, Roderick judged distance, waited, and then darted forward and flung himself onto the troll's back. It took quite a leap to get up that high, but he managed to grab onto one of the troll's gigantic shoulders and pull himself up. The troll let out another, louder scream, as Roderick wrapped his arms and legs as far around its neck and body as he could reach.
The troll stopped and shook its upper body as hard as it could, but Roderick managed to hang on. It flailed with its arms, trying to reach him, but the arms weren't limber enough to be able to reach the man on its back. With a scream, the troll ran toward the biggest tree in view, leapt through the air, and spun around in midair.
Roderick managed to see what was coming just in time, and let go just before the troll's back smashed into the tree, snapping the ten-foot-diameter tree in two.
Roderick smashed his own arm against a branch of the same tree, then slid headfirst back into the thorn bushes.
The troll, which had dark spots appearing around its neck and all down its back now, rolled two more turns across the ground, knocking over another full-grown tree, before it let loose a screech to match the one from the river, burst into a sudden, deafening thwoosh of exploding flame, and vanished into a small cloud of ash.
Roderick, panting from exertion and pain, gasped, "Barbara, add a note to your lorebook. Trolls most definitely cannot swim."
There was another splash, followed shortly by another, from the direction of the bridge, and Johnson came running over to help Stan in his battle.
"Uh, Bob, that guy's pretty big," Doug said nervously as he struck at Stan again. "Maybe it'd be smart for us to surrender."
"And give up our cash bonus?" Bob said, taking another swing.
Then Johnson arrived, and swung at Bob's feet, sending him sprawing to the ground with the breath thoroughly knocked out of him.
Doug dropped his sword. "I surrender!"
"Good man," said Johnson. "Let's tie him up quick, so we can get the other guys on their way out of the river."
"Owowowowowow!" Roderick exclaimed as Barbara applied healing herbs to the thorn scratches on his face.
The bridge guards were all securely tied up, and Johnson was getting the guards' horses ready to go. The agreed-upon plan was to untie the guards before leaving, but not leave them with any horses, so as not to risk a message getting back to their boss too quickly.
Barbara made a face. "I'm sorry, Roderick. We need to take care of these before they get infected. And this herb is the best I've got available right now."
"I know, but that stuff stings," he complained. "I liked the dryads' way better."
"In your dreams," she retorted, now applying some of the herb mixture to his arm. He winced and bit his lip. "Although," she added, "that was very brave. What you did back there, jumping onto the troll's back and all."
He tried to grin through his pain. "So there'll be a good song about it?" he asked.
She laughed. "You bet there will." She sat back and looked at him appraisingly. "You're not exactly the greatest guard there ever was, and it still scares me to think of you as a Paladin," she said. "But you're not bad." She leaned forward, smoothed back his hair, and gently kissed his forehead.
His face turned bright pink. He grinned a goofy grin and stammered, "Th-thanks."
"So," she said, as she got more of the herb mixture ready for his other arm, "what's the next step in our plan? Are we going after the damsel in distress?"
"I suppose so," he said unhappily. "Owowowow! That one's deep," he winced as she dabbed the mixture on some of the nastier scratches on his right shoulder. "The thing is, I think Erik the Goth's castle is on the other side of the river, back where we came from. So we'd just have to fight this battle all over again later, when we head to Mount Paladin."
"Oh, God," said Stan, who was carrying a pile of food over to the horse line.
"Yeah, pretty much," said Roderick. "I don't much like the idea either. But the brochure said sidequests are important."
"Excuse me," said Doug, who was lying tied-up on the ground about fifteen feet away. "Did you say something about Erik the Goth?"
"Yeah," said Roderick in surprise.
"Well, he came over this bridge a couple of times late last night," offered Doug. "Had a girl with him both times. She was dressed all in black, though it wasn't exactly her color."
"Gisella?" asked Barbara.
"Oh, no," Doug said. "This girl was a redhead. Gisella was with them when they came back, though. She was all tied up to her horse. Anyway, the second time they were coming over to this side of the bridge. And they haven't been back, at least not over this bridge here."
"Any idea where they were going?" Roderick asked.
"Not for sure. Of course, Sir Hugo and Erik both live on the other side of the river," Doug offered. "And I've seen this redheaded girl before, and she lives on this side of the river, but she works on the other side."
"Busy bridge," Barbara commented.
"Yeah, tell me about it." Doug grinned. "She was kinda fun to search twice a day, though."
Barbara made a face. "Well,anyway," she said, "so he's already kidnapped Gisella, and it looks like they're probably still on this side of the river." She frowned. "That's odd, if the wedding is only two days away. You'd think he'd have all kinds of arrangements to make. Florists, photographers, caterers, a DJ for the reception..."
Roderick shrugged. "Maybe he's just keeping it simple."
"Oh, please. The poster said it would be a 'Lavish Ceremony'."
Johnson, who was just passing by on his way to fill the water flasks at the river, said, "You know, that's odd. Because in the Advance Praise for 'Evil Overlords for Dummies', they mentioned that it was a bad idea to plan the wedding as a lavish spectacle in three weeks' time, and that a justice of the peace was a much better solution. Something about giving the hero less opportunity to rescue the damsel."
"Well, it's not three weeks away," reasoned Barbara. "Just two days."
"And maybe he hasn't read the book," offered Roderick.
Johnson shrugged. "I dunno." He headed for the river.
"So would it be easier," Roderick wondered aloud, "to go back to Erik's castle and wait for him there, only to have to cross the river yet again later; or would it be easier to wander aimlessly around on this side of the river, hoping we'll just run into him?"
"Well, we should be able to ask around," said Barbara. "People would probably remember seeing a group pass by that included a girl who was tied to her horse."
Doug laughed. "You're kidding, right? You're right in the middle of Evil Overlord country."
"Ah," said Barbara. "Well, at least it can't happen every day, right?"
A handsome, dashing young man in a tuxedo approached the mirror. He arched an eyebrow, flashed his gleaming smile, and said, "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Calvin the Bold. Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Gisella."
He flashed his smile again, then frowned. "No," he said, shaking his head, "not quite the right amount of panache." He walked back over to his bedside table, picked up his copy of Heroes for Dummies, and flipped back to the "Winning the Heart of the Overlord's Daughter" chapter.
After reading a few pages, he set the book aside and sighed. Noel the Not-So-Bold as Calvin the Bold, his white kitten, leapt into his lap and purred, and he rubbed her neck absently. "You know," he said to the cat, "I hate when they say something is best left as an exercise for the student. I never did well on labs."
He stroked the purring kitten for another moment or two, then noticed that she was shedding white fur all over his black tuxedo pants. He sighed. "Okay, Noel the Not-So-Bold as Calvin the Bold, it's time for me to go out and be dashingly heroic. Gotta win the overlord's daughter so I can pass my Hero's Exam." He carefully moved the cat to the bedstand, stood, and headed for the front door of his lavish condo, brushing cat fur off his pants as he went.
On the outside of his door, he found a large poster that someone had attached during the night. He glanced at it absently as he struggled with the deadbolt lock, then stopped, read it more slowly, and stood staring with his mouth open. "How dare he!" he exclaimed. Forgetting to take his key out of the lock, he reached up and tore down the poster, and stood there with a heated expression on his rugged face, reading and re-reading the words.
Finally, with a scowl that seemed most out of place on his handsome face, he tossed the poster aside, then turned and started down the path to the stables. It was time to pick up the most sleek, expensive horse he could find, and ride to the maiden's rescue before the foul villain could thwart all of his heroic plans.
As Sir Hugo approached his castle, his chancellor rode out to meet him, and was taking notes as they rode back.
"So the back half of the new plot of land," Sir Hugo was saying, "is quite well-suited for an archery range, which we can rent out to the various training groups. Double fees for any Heroes who want to train there, of course. In front of that, a stable, and the front part can be a set of condominiums."
The chancellor took copious notes. "What about the sewage overflow ponds you were looking for a place to locate?"
Sir Hugo grunted. "I thought about that, and decided against it. It would be unkind and uncourteous to my neighbor to locate those within smelling distance of his property. It's important not to take actions that antagonize one's neighbors, you know."
Sarah, one of the cooks who had accompanied Sir Hugo on his expedition and who happened to be within earshot at the moment, snorted loudly. "Things like plowing their rose gardens?" she said bitterly, a sour look upon her face.
"My dear, you've been complaining about that ever since we got there," Sir Hugo said patiently. "But they weren't his rose gardens, you see. They were on a plot of land which belonged to me, and I have every right to decide what will be built on my property."
Sarah shook her head and rolled her eyes. Sir Hugo accepted her silence and turned back to the chancellor, but then a large white rectangle of paper, posted on the outside of the castle walls just next to the gates, caught his eye. "I say, what is that?" he said, pointing at it and angling off to the side to approach it.
Then he spotted a clump of letters near the top of the poster that, at least from this distance, looked like his daughter's name, and he spurred his horse on faster.
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