Friday Flash: Halitor the Hero excerpt

Told you it's Hero Month! That's why today's flash is an excerpt from Halitor the Hero.

Isn't that a lovely cover?

 Title: Halitor the Hero

Author: Rebecca M. Douglass

Publication Info: 2014, 159 pages (paperback). Available in paper and all ebook formats

Genre: Humorous fantasy

Age Level: Middle grades (roughly age 8 or 9) and up

 

A Fair Maiden who breaks all the rules.  A would-be Hero who fails everything by the book.  It’ll be the adventure of a lifetime…if they survive past breakfast.

Blurb:
Halitor wants to be a Hero and ride through the world rescuing Princesses and Fair Maidens in distress. Too bad he tends to trip over his own feet and drop his sword when he gets excited! When his Hero apprentice-master abandons him at an inn in Loria, he resigns himself to life as a kitchen boy. But he’s reckoned without Melly, the young kitchen wench. She wants his help finding her father, and she won’t quit until she has it. Soon Halitor is tramping through the mountains fighting ogres and dragons and just hoping to stay alive. Along the way he learns a lot more than just how to be a Hero. This fun fantasy adventure has a good dose of humor and plenty of excitement to keep kids turning pages.

Excerpt--From Chapter 3, "Encounters With Ogres"

Melly clutched Halitor’s arm and pointed into the woods. A pair of small ogres stared at them, growling and gnashing their teeth. When the young people drew their swords, the ogres slunk away. Ogres wouldn’t attack people who could put up a fight. Still, after that, Melly and Halitor walked a little faster and a little closer together. The next ogres might not be so quick to take flight. It began to drizzle, and Halitor thought of his stable loft. If not for Melly, he would have been there, warm and dry, and with a full belly.

“We need to get onto a main road,” Melly said. “There’s bound to be more monsters about and I don’t want to meet them.”

“What about Derker? Won’t he be looking on the road for us?”

“Not in the rain, not him. And anyway, he’ll think we’ve gone south, or off by the Great Road. Not up towards the Ice Castle with winter coming on.”

Halitor didn’t much like the sound of that, but he liked the idea of following a road, where more traffic might mean fewer ogres. They found a path that after much winding joined the road, and turned again toward the mountains.

Around noon they smelled the smoke of a cooking fire—smoke mingled with something that made Halitor’s stomach growl.

“I bet it’s a trader’s caravan,” Melly whispered, peeking around a tree at the camp where half a dozen wagons were stopped for a mid-day meal. “Maybe we can join them, if they’re going our way.”

Halitor remembered that she and her Da had been traders. She must be used to that sort of thing. “I’ll go in first,” he said, trying to think what a Hero would do. “What if they’re slave-hunters, or bandits?” Melly nodded, as though Halitor could somehow protect her. He knew that if they were bandits, the most he could do was occupy them long enough for her to escape. Well, that was something, and it was what a Hero would do.

The merchants were just merchants, and shared their meal in exchange for news. They would have preferred coin, but there was much the young travelers did not have, and coins were among them. The caravan-master was a kindly sort, so he let them eat. They looked like a pair of boys out for adventure and discovering it to be hungry work, as well as cold and wet. He asked about the road ahead, on down across Loria to Carthor and the other towns.

Halitor and Melly, disappointed the caravan wasn’t going their way, told what they could about the road, without mentioning that they hadn’t been using it.

When they parted, the caravan master warned them, “Ye’d do well to take care. Find a caravan if ye can. The ogres are bad this year.”

“Were you attacked?” Halitor asked, feeling to be sure his sword was still in place.

“Nay, not us. They won’t attack a large party, seein’ as they can’t work together, not more than two at a time anyhow. A pair of younglings like ye, though, they might think were easy pickins.”

Melly thanked him for his concern, and, hitching her sword to a more comfortable position under her hand, promised they’d be careful. “We can’t wait for another group. We are in a bit of a hurry.”

“Ay. Ye’d best move on fast in any case. It’s fair cold up high, and the weather has a changing feel. This rain could turn to snow up there any time, if it hasn’t already.”

Halitor felt a deeper chill than the drizzle caused. Until now he hadn’t grasped that their way led through a high pass. Melly led him off before he could ask any more questions.

They kept a sharp, nervous eye out front and back after they started on. After a mile or so, however, they started arguing again and forgot to watch.

“Why do we have to cross the mountains, anyway?” Halitor asked.

“Because my home lies on the other side,” Melly answered, in that too-patient voice that means both parties are about to be aggravated.

“But why can’t we go south? We could take the Great Road,” he suggested, referring to the largest road that linked the valley states of Loria, Garan, Duria and Kargor, which spread out from the Ice Castle like the splayed fingers of a hand. “Or even the desert route.” He and Bovrell had gone around the south end of the range that separated Duria and Garan, and it had been warm, even in the dead of winter. Maybe her home—what had she called it? Gandaria?—was in the far north. That would explain why he’d never heard of it.

“How long did all that riding around take you?” Melly asked in a tone that didn’t encourage him to answer. He did anyway.

“I don’t know, maybe a few months? We did stuff along the way, you know.”

He wanted to tell her that they had rescued maidens and freed a village from a cruel overlord. And they had done those things, but Halitor had always dropped his sword or ridden the wrong way or fallen from his horse. Every single time. By the time they had reached Loria and rescued Melly, Bovrell was scarcely speaking to him. He didn’t want to talk about it.

“Say, Melly,” he said to change the subject, since the idea of going south didn’t seem to go over well, especially as they had walked north for three days already and would have to go back towards Carthor and the Inn. “I never did ask how you got taken by that ogre in the first place. I mean, if you were at the inn and all.” Ogres would never come into a town, though according to the Hero’s Guide they might enter a lone castle to take a princess.

“I, um,” she glanced at him and went ahead and said it. “I was trying to run off.”

The news didn’t shock or surprise him as it might have once. After all, they were running away now because she wanted to. Of course she’d tried before. He thought of something else. “Ogres are only supposed to kidnap Princesses. The Guide says so. So why you?”

“Maybe they only kidnap princesses, but I’m pretty sure they’ll eat anyone.” She sighed. “I suppose that was what it would have done. How should I know?”

Halitor didn’t answer, because he didn’t know how to tell if an ogre was kidnapping a Princess or looking for dinner. And what did they do with the ones who weren’t rescued? It wasn’t like the ogres did it just so Heroes could have someone to rescue. That wouldn’t be a good bargain for the ogres, who nearly always ended up killed by the Heroes, if the Guide was right.

Thinking made his head hurt, so he stopped thinking and went back to watching for ogres. Fighting monsters he understood, even if he wasn’t any good at it.

***

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2018
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!

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Friday Fiction

In a nice collision of discouragements to a new story, not only did Terribleminds.com not give us a writing prompt this week, but the Ninja Librarian was out backpacking and only got home late Wednesday. Somehow, with all the other chores, a new story didn't get written. So...how about a sneak preview of The Problem of Peggy, i.e. the Ninja Librarian #3? This is from Chapter 1, and is about 2000 words.

Trouble Brewing

With nothing much for entertainment in Skunk Corners, everyone came to the spelling bee. They couldn’t all jam into the schoolroom, so we all trooped over to Tess’s, where the barroom had more space. Johnny agreed not to serve anything stronger than sarsaparilla while the kids were there, and we got down to some serious spelling. Eunice Reeves was up, trying to spell “procrastination,” when I slipped out the door for some air and a trip to the privy. Tom and Tess between them were running the spelling bee, and doing a fine job of it.
  I finished what I went out to do, and blew out the candle I’d used to light my way. I lingered a moment under the trees behind the Tavern and the bank, enjoying the cool night air and letting my eyes adjust to the dark.
   That was when I heard the soft plunk of hooves, extra soft like maybe they’d been wrapped in cloth to keep quiet.
   My eyes might have still been dazzled from the lights, but there was nothing wrong with my ears. Those horses were coming down the Endoline trail. I was glad I’d blown out my candle before I left the privy. As long as I didn’t move, I’d be invisible.
   Someone was sneaking into our town, and on the night when pretty much everyone was watching our children prove they could spell. Was that just chance? Six horses grew visible in the darkness. I couldn’t see any details, but it was definitely six horses, and six riders who didn’t belong around here.
   Honest men came to Skunk Corners by daylight, and most of them came off the train, or up the trails from down the mountain. People in Endoline didn’t have horses. People in Endoline didn’t have much of anything. It was in the name: Endoline. End of the line. Where you ended up when you'd run out of options. All the wealth had been sucked out of that place long since, before we’d contrived to send Mort Black packing. That man had thought he owned the place, and every person in it. Once, he’d thought he owned me, too. That was how I came to move to Skunk Corners: to make myself some options and prove I was no one’s property. Our town wasn’t much, but it was a long sight better than Endoline, even before the Ninja Librarian came and straightened things up.
   So I figured that anyone riding down the Endoline Trail quiet-like in the night was probably up to no good, and I snuck up a bit closer so’s I could hear them talking.
   “That’s it right there. Just a quick job.”
   “What’re we doing, anyway? Stick-up? Blow the safe?”
   “Don’t need to blow it. Boss says he wants some papers, and not just the money.” The man’s voice reflected his puzzlement over this command. I was confused, too. Papers? What for? And why wouldn’t they have to force the safe?
   His companions shared his feelings, and mine. “What in heck would we do that for? It’s a bank. You get money from banks, not paper.”
   “Mebbe some papers is more valuable than money.” The hoarse voice came from the smallest rider. A couple of the others started to laugh, but stifled it when someone hissed, “Shut up!”
   “So what’re we waiting for?” That was the guy who wondered what the job was. For someone who didn’t know much, he was mighty impatient.
   “Boss says wait for him. He’s comin’ up from the hide-out in the Badlands.”
   I wondered who the boss might be, and didn’t like the ideas that came to me. I tried not to think about it.
   “Too bad.” That was the little guy again. He sounded like someone who liked hurting people. “Looks like everyone’s in the Tavern just now. Some kinda party. We could take care of that bank right now and no one the wiser.”
   I felt a chill. I didn’t like Mr. Tolliver, the banker, but he was part of our town. I had to stop this.
How? If I went and raised the alarm, the men might ride off, but they might hurt some folks first. There were too many small fry in Tess’s place to risk involving them. But I couldn’t handle six fellows alone.
   I turned and tiptoed back around to the kitchen side of Tess’s. There was no light there, so I could slip in without being noticed. I ran quickly across and opened the barroom door just enough to get Johnny’s attention. He saw me, because he noticed most everything around his bar, and paused only to grab his shotgun. I smiled. Johnny’s pretty quick.
   Eunice had survived “procrastination,” and was watching while Lije misspelled “precaution.” I wondered if Tom had sensed something and chosen that word as a message to me. I’d take it as one, anyway.
   Johnny eased the door shut behind him, and we stood in the dark kitchen while I whispered an explanation.
   “I don’t want to get nobody hurt,” I finished. “And I’m afraid if we try to get the men-folk out of there,” I jerked a thumb at the other room, though he couldn’t see it in the dark, “we’ll have a panic. The rider are waiting for their boss, whoever that might be.”
   “I ain’t seen Hank and Yance tonight. They might be over in their workshop.”
   That was a thought. My two former students were apprenticed to Mr. Holstead and his carpentry business. They slept over the workshop, which was about the only place they wanted to be anyhow.
   “Run get them,” I said. “I’ll keep an eye on this lot.”
   Johnny didn’t waste time arguing. He was out the back door before I could gather my thoughts and follow, moving like a shadow off towards the Holstead’s.
   The bank robbers were still clustered in the woods, so it looked like they were waiting on their mysterious boss. And it looked like he was due any time.
   My biggest worry was guns. I didn’t want any kind of shoot-out, because someone would get hurt for sure. I didn’t care if these fellows got themselves killed, but there were women and children in that tavern a few yards away. We had to handle this delicately.
   A mosquito buzzed in my ear, and I batted it away, then turned up my collar. I had learned from Tom to hold still no matter what, but I drew the line at letting the blood-suckers have more of me than I needed to. That went double for two-legged blood-suckers like the ones I was watching. I crept a little closer, then prepared to wait without moving, mosquitoes or not. I was close enough now to know these fellows didn’t bathe much.
   The riders were getting restless. “Where the heck is the boss, Smitty?” That was the whiney one again.
   “He’s coming. Hold your hosses,” growled the voice that had hushed them earlier. “Shut up.”
   “Don’t see why we gotta wait,” another one grumbled.
   “I said to shut your yammering! We need him ’cause he knows the signal.”
   Well, that was interesting. I wondered what signal that would be. But the men’s restlessness was giving me an idea. Johnny and the boys would move in from the other side if they could, and the boys might steal the horses if they got a chance. Johnny had big ideas about capturing this lot, which worried me some.
   I thought maybe I should try to spook them before the boys did something we’d all regret. I slipped out of my shoes and crept a little closer, thinking hard.
   “Hey!” One of the men changed the subject. “I smell a skunk!”
   I sniffed. Sure enough, I smelled one too, and not far off.
   “Sure,” said Smitty. “That’s why they call this place Skunk Corners. I hear it’s lousy with the stinkers.”
   Well, we did have skunks aplenty. That worried me some, because they didn’t have cause to love me. I’d have to take my chances this time. I thought maybe I could use that skunk to some good end.
   An outlaw on a light-grey horse, visible even in the dark, spoke up. What he said gave me a fright. “What’s Mort want with this place, anyhow? It ain’t much.”
   Mort. Mort Black. The thing I’d told myself was just foolish fear, was real. We thought we’d chased that low-down thief off for good, but he was back. I took a deep breath to calm myself while Smitty answered.
   “I reckon Endoline’s played out and he wants fresh blood. He’ll take over here and we’ll live like kings, with all them woman at Tess’s Tavern.” The laughter that followed that chilled me even more.
Not if I had anything to say about it they wouldn’t. And then I did have something to say. It was too dark for the men to see each other well, and I was almost underfoot. I was making the horses uneasy, but the men blamed the skunk. I made my voice as much as I could like the little guy they seemed scared of and said the thing I thought would upset them the most.
   “Mebbe Mort don’t plan to share.”
   “Course he’ll share,” Smitty said. “He always has.”
   “Allus a first time. He done set us to do the dirty work, ain’t he?” That was one of the other men. Seemed my question had set loose some doubts. I worked on them some more.
   “Anyhow, I smell that skunk, and I don’t like it. I hear them critters are just unnatural round here. Maybe they’s hydrophoby skunks!”
   “Stop fussing. Anyhow, we don’t gotta do nothin’. Just wait for Mort.”
   “Stupid to wait,” the little guy insisted. “This here’s our chance, while everybody’s busy. There’s something he ain’t telling us. Some secret about this place.”
   The creak of saddle leather told me at least some of the men were dismounting. To move in and rob the bank? I moved a little closer under cover of their sounds, thinking that if I had to fight, I’d take out the leader first, and let the boys handle the rest.
   “Ground-hitch them hosses so’s we can leave in a hurry,” the bossy one said, and I heard then what I guessed none of the men did: a horse coming, not too far off. If that was Mort Black, we had to move fast. I tried another approach, desperate to take care of them before Black could rally them.
   “Boss shoulda been here by now. I tell ya, he’s leavin’ all the work to us. An’ what fer? So’s he can get rich, I reckon. And what do we get?”
   That set them to arguing a bit, which hid the sound of Black approaching.
   I smelled Stinky pass close by me, and danged if that skunk didn’t walk right in among the men and start rubbing up against them like a cat. The one with the coarse laugh was first to notice.
   “Hey, there’s a cat or somethin’ out here getting cozy with my legs!”
   I jumped on the opening. “Reckon it’s done tangled with a skunk, then. ’Less that stink is you. When’s the last time you took a bath, anyhow?”
   That set them to bickering again, and they all huddled up to do it in angry whispers, with an occasional, “there’s that kitty again,” mixed in with the cussing and arguing. I backed off a bit, thinking it might be time to get out of there. I was just far enough away to miss the worst of it when that skunk cut loose.
   Stinky had a good sense of timing. You never heard such cussing and choking in your life. I’d have laughed, if I’d dared. The bandits took off for their horses, stumbling blindly, eyes watering too much to see their way. I guessed by the stamping and neighing that the horses didn’t much like their scent, but they scrambled into the saddles and rode right up the trail and smack into Mort Black. I heard him yelling and cussing, but his men wouldn’t stop, and his voice gradually faded as he gave up and rode after them.
   “Thanks, Stinky,” I said quietly, and started back toward the Tavern.

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2016
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!

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