Stephen Lawhead - In the Hall of the Dragon King

They stayed just off the main track through the forest and presently came to an ancient oak of immense girth, as large as any Quentin had ever seen. Theido called a halt and rode a few paces ahead by himself. Then he raised himself in the saddle and, placing two fingers of an ungloved hand into his mouth, gave a low whistle. He repeated it and then trotted back to where Quentin and Queen Alinea waited. He was just about to speak when a long shrill whistle came in answer to his own.

“Come,” said Theido, “we may proceed.”

They turned off the path by the oak and Quentin saw a narrow opening between two massive and impenetrable hedges. The gap was just wide enough to admit a rider or a man on foot-if they happened to be looking for the spot, for it was fully concealed behind the eldern oak.

Through the hedge wall the riders entered upon a clearing which was a bowl-shaped hollow. The ground sloped down just ahead of them and rose again opposite to form a rocky rim crowned with slim young birches on a small hill. All around the circumference of the hill grew holly bushes, thick and black in the moonlight.

Theido led the party to the center of the bowl and there waited. Quentin could not imagine why they had come here, or who had returned Theido’s signal, for obviously, signal it was. He had not long to wait for answers to his questions. As he sat scanning the limited horizon of the bowl he noticed nothing. And then even as he watched he perceived that the bushes themselves were alive-each one a man outfitted with a cunning camouflage of branches and twigs affixed to his back and shoulders. Quentin watched fascinated as these walking shrubs rustled to their feet and came forward. There were sixteen in all. Their leader seemed to be a large man with a hat of dry leaves pulled low over his face. He approached easily and came to stand directly in front of Theido, bowing low and saying, “Good evening to you, Sir Hawk. Your signal stirs us out of a long winter’s nap. But we are ever ready to serve you and yours whatever the time or need may be. How can we help you?”

“You are most gracious, Voss. I wish only to speak to you now and then you shall all return to your cozy cave.” The man bowed again and this time Quentin saw his broad, good-natured face full in the moonlight which filled the hollow, reflecting off the sparkling snow. Voss waved his men closer and instantly the riders were surrounded by an odd assortment of heads, arms, and branches. Each man carried a short sword and a long bow. Quentin saw no arrows, but guessed they were concealed in the camouflage.

“I was taken prisoner this morning by men under Jaspin’s orders.”

“The dog!” spat Voss. The ring of bush-men murmured menacingly. Quentin got the impression that if Jaspin or any fifty of his men had been within bow shot right now, they would be wearing feathers. “How was this deed accomplished?”

“I do not know. But that is a matter of small importance. I am free now because of the quick thinking of my friends here.” Theido nodded to Quentin and Alinea.

The bush-men bowed together at this revelation and Voss spoke for all of them, pledging, “Pelgrin will never hold ill for you while any of us are awake and breathing. A whistle thus,” he whistled, “will bring help and rescue from man or beast. And if food or shelter is your lack, you have bed and board with us as long as bellies need eats and eyes sleep.”

“We accept your most generous pledge, kind ranger,” said the Queen. “You may be certain that if ever I am in such need I will summon you at your word.”

“Please,” interrupted Theido, “we will trouble you no further tonight but to say that we go directly to the cottage of the holy hermit, Durwin. Most likely we will be followed-if we are not pursued even now. I would require a watch to be placed upon our path, and a fair warning to be given when any of the Prince’s men enter these woods.”

“That is easily said,” replied the woodsman, nodding to several of his companions who left at once, melting into the forest silently as shadows, “and done. Is there nothing else?”

“I may have need to put your craft to the test, but not yet I think. We will take our leave and thank you now for your help. I may not have time to thank you later.”

“No thanks necessary,” replied Voss, with a wide smile. His eyes glittered and his teeth shone white in the dark. “We are only too glad to repay in kind what has oft been given us. Away with you!” he shouted suddenly, slapping the horses on the neck. “You may still dream before the dawn.”

Theido saluted the stocky woodsman and bowed to the circle of men gathered round about them. They returned his salute, raising their long bows high in the air and saying, “May Ariel guide you!” Three men jumped forward and seized the reins of the horses and led them off into the forest. Quentin looked back over his shoulder to where Voss and the rest still watched after them. He waved and the bush-men’s leader waved back. Quentin watched until they were removed from sight by the forest closing once more around them.

QUENTIN awoke to the smell of roasting meat seasoned with pungent spices. The aroma teased him, bringing water to his mouth and an ache to his empty stomach. It seemed like a month since he had last eaten.

His eyelids were heavy as bobs of lead and he had not the strength to open them. So, he lay in a state of suspended animation, awake, but unmoving; dragging his scattered thoughts together and willing his reluctant limbs to move-and only half succeeding in either case.

At last, overcome by hunger and coaxed upright by the pleasant odors wafting over him, he pushed away his cloak and gleaned the straw from his hair.

He heard voices and, struggling to his feet out of the dry, straw-filled corner that had served for his bed, he approached the hermit’s long table where Durwin and Theido mumbled together.

“… Then we must use every caution. Any misstep would prove fatal. So much is at stake…” Quentin heard this ominous pronouncement as he drew nearer the table. Durwin was speaking. “We must arm ourselves accordingly-I see no other alternative.”

“No,” replied Theido softly, yet his voice carried a stern objection. “I cannot ask such a thing of you. There must be another way.”

Just then Quentin reached the table and the two men cut short their conversation and greeted him heartily. “Durwin, our young acolyte saved my life yesterday. Did I tell you?” Theido said, raising a cup of steaming liquid to Quentin as Durwin hurried to place a bowl of hot porridge and bread before him.

“Yes, you have told me only three hundred times this morning, but I’ll gladly hear it again,” replied the hermit.

Theido recounted in glowing terms all that had taken place the last morning, from the capture to the daring escape and the moonlight ride. “Had it not been for my young friend’s disobedience of my orders, I would be food for owls this day.”

“Disobedience? When did I disobey you?” Quentin croaked.

“You were instructed to ride back to Durwin here, if I should have come to harm, or our plans miscarry.”

Quentin remembered the order; it had been scared right out of his head in the confusion and fright of the ambush. And later he had chanced upon a better plan.

“Quentin,” continued Theido, “you stand absolved of any wrong. But I must stress this to you now: you are never to disobey my orders again. Follow them no matter what may seem to you the outcome. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Quentin answered uncertainly. He had only minutes before been praised for his bravery and pluck. Now he felt severely reprimanded.

“Tut,” said Durwin, “Don’t be so strong-headed, Theido. I think the god intervened with a command of his own. I tell you the god has a hand on this one.” The holy hermit nodded approvingly to Quentin, who was glad for this affirmation.