The Brave Apprentice by P. W. Catanese Read Free Book Online Page A

taking care not to block the monarch’s view. He took a few extra moments to arrange the items just so, and Patch could tell that he was enjoying this moment. Men of the sword and the arrow were so often the heroes, Patch thought, but now Griswold had been summoned from wherever he lived, and all these powerful knights and lords were itching to hear what the learned man had to say.
    He straightened up, cleared his throat, and rubbed his hands together. “Shall I begin with a poem? Perhaps you know it already:
    Keen of smell
Dull of sight
In the cold
They stalk the night.
    Eyes so small
Mouth so wide
Sharp the tooth
And thick the hide.
    Nails like spades
To dig their holes.
    Keep thou safe
From wicked trolls.
    No warmth
No sun
No friends
No one
Can keep thou safe
From wicked trolls.”
    There were a few smiles around the table, a nod or two of recognition, and some impatient glances. Griswold shrugged. “Learned that when I was just a child myself. It’s not entirely accurate. But then, it’s only a poem meant to keep the children from wandering too far from home.” He turned the map around so that it faced the king. “Well, sire. As you know, the stone trolls, or weeping trolls, as they are sometimes called—because of the noxious yellow stuff that always oozes from their eyes—are solitary creatures, living alone in their caves and skulking out to cause no end of evil. As far as we know they come from the Barren Gray, a mountainous area not visited by sensible men. The Gray is known for its desolation, its long winter, its rocky terrain, its lack of vegetation, and of course the trolls themselves. It is thought that the monsters feed mostly upon wild goats and pigs, except, of course, for the unlucky people whom they waylay.
    “The trolls have rarely ventured far from that homeland.They are bolder in the winter than any other season. And the rare troll that wanders down during the summer prefers to stalk at night. Interestingly, only the male trolls are known to roam. Legend has it that somewhere deep in the Barren Gray is the Cradle of Trolls, a cavern where the she-trolls remain, caring for their broods.
    “When the males leave the Gray, they most often follow the stony ridges that reach down into our kingdom like fingers.”
    Chairs creaked as the men leaned forward to consider the map. Griswold put his finger on the exquisite chart and traced a prominent ridge. “As you see here, one of the largest of these ridges runs southward, near the village of Crossfield. Now, Crossfield is not a significant place. I only mention it because we have rumors of a boy, a tailor’s apprentice, who slew a troll here, and—oh!” Griswold’s eyes had been moving from person to person around the table, and now settled on Patch.
    “Good heavens, are you that boy? How nice to meet you! So it’s true, then? Tell me, could your troll speak? He could? How interesting! I look forward to your story.” Griswold looked up to address the entire gathering again. “At any rate, the appearance of a troll in a place such as Crossfield is typical. This lone troll simply followed the stony ridge until he found a convenient hole to live in.
    “Now remember what I have told you as we follow the largest ridge. This one ranges farther south, yet stillends here, at least ten miles north of the town of Half.”
    Some of the men began to shift in their seats, as if suddenly uncomfortable. Milo stared intently at the scholar. “Yes,” Griswold said. “Strange things are happening that, in all our learning, we have not witnessed before. First, the trolls are traveling together and even cooperating. Second, they have ventured many miles from the stony ground that they prefer.
    “There is ample evidence that trolls are not comfortable for long away from such terrain. In fact, the historian Umber writes of one encounter where a troll emerged from its hole to chase a girl. He pursued her until she ran into a sunny meadow. Then he suddenly dashed