The Fourfold Key
Chapter Nineteen: The Man Named Draoi

They walked under the tall trees with the pine needle carpet for some time. After a while, they came to a creek. That creek joined another creek which joined another, and soon the towering trees of the Elven Woodlands were gone and all that was left were little creeks joining up with each other until they made a mud land.

Gradually, they waded through the muck and made it to the Troll Swamps. The trees of Troll Swamps came so fast and so thick that as soon as they walked in, the only light they had to guide them was many little glowing mushrooms not unlike the shining fungus at the elves’ village. The ground was moist, and Ruth was glad of the pair of shoes she had received from the elves - it kept her slightly dry. The water was there, trickling in amongst the shadows, but it was hard to see. There was a small path leading through the forest, so thin that Ruth began to get claustrophobic.

As they walked, Ruth began to see some empty, spacious patches of dirt that weren’t mud or overgrown. Ruth headed towards one such patch so she could breathe comfortably again, but Tom pulled her back.

“Quicksand,” he warned. “Oh, and, watch out for snakes. I believe there’s only one kind here that’s not poisonous.”

“Oh, right. ’Cause that’s not scary at all!” Ruth exclaimed in a voice that was an octave higher than normal. After that she let Tom do the leading and didn’t take her eyes off the ground for a moment.

“So, how exactly are we going to replace the trolls?” Ruth asked after a while.

“We’re not. They’re going to replace us,” Tom said.

“What?!” Ruth’s head snapped up for the first time in hours. She clutched at her neck.

“We’ll just build a smoky fire. When the trolls come to investigate, we’ll be safe in the trees. And when they replace that no one is here, they’ll return to their camp and we can follow them.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Sorry, no.”

Ruth began to rant about what a terrible idea this was and how he was going to get them both killed, while Tom set about making a fire in a clearing he had discovered that wasn’t quicksand.

Considering how wet the sticks were, Tom had the fire going in no time. The smoky blaze was well under way when Tom decided it was ready to burn on its own and turned to get up a tree. Only there was a catch…

“Uh, Tom? When you picked this place did you realize that all these trees have branches well above our heads?” Ruth leaned her head back to look at the branches. The lowest ones were probably about eight or nine feet up.

“Well, no, I didn’t,” Tom admitted.

“Oh. Well. Look who was right,” Ruth said, her voice rising again.

“Come on, I’ll boost you and then you can pull me up.”

Ruth did as he asked and was soon up in the tree. But as it turned out, climbing into the tree from Tom’s hands was a lot easier than pulling Tom up. Their fingers hardly touched, and Tom had to jump to get a good hold. As she grabbed his hands, she heard footsteps crashing towards them. Tom tried to get up, but only succeeded in almost pulling Ruth down. He gave up and rushed behind another tree. Ruth’s heart lodged itself in her throat as she watched six trolls break through the thick trees, eyes roving madly about the clearing. Their large noses sniffed wildly, searching for the tantalizing scent of helpless prey.

The trolls had large, humped backs, with moss and other small plant life growing upon them. Their long knobby arms held spears as long as them. Their legs were just as spindly as their arms, and had large, bumpy feet. The only thing each one wore was a loincloth around its middle, tied on with a frayed rope. Ruth’s breathing quickened at the sight of them, and she almost lost her grip on the tree.

They searched about the campsite for just a few seconds and then spread out to search elsewhere. Unfortunately, they must have been accustomed to the whole hiding-behind-a-tree idea, because they found Tom right away. One of them jerked him out by the scruff of the neck and threw him into the center of the clearing. Ruth clapped a hand over her mouth. Cold fear settled in her as she watched. The six trolls surrounded him instantly. Tom’s four-foot-two stature was nothing compared to the eight-to-nine foot-tall trolls. The one who caught him stepped toward him, long bony fingers reaching for Tom. A smaller troll shoved its hand away, grunting at it in its own language. The other troll shoved the smaller one back, and it retaliated.

Soon there was a full on fight between the two trolls. The others turned to watch. Tom began to slip away unnoticed. One troll saw him and grabbed his shirt.

Tom struggled madly, but soon the troll had him tied up with a length of rope. It took its spear and staked Tom to the ground by placing it between his arms and driving the spear into the muddy dirt. Then it rushed back to watch the fight. Tom struggled with the ropes, but the troll had surprisingly dextrous fingers and had tied the knots tight.

More than anything, Ruth wanted to jump down from that tree and free her friend, but she knew that doing that could only result in her getting captured, as well. Wait. Wait for the right time, wait for a distraction, she told herself.

A distraction came in the form of a falling troll. The smaller troll had the taller one cornered by the edge of some quicksand. Trembling with anger, it rushed at the taller troll, who stepped to the side. As a result, the smaller troll fell headlong into the quicksand. The other trolls roared in surprise and fear and all bent to aid their friend.

Ruth took her chance. She slipped out of the tree and onto the ground, landing on all fours, and rushed over to Tom. She quickly began to work off the tight bonds, wrenching and pulling in her fright. She slipped them off over his hands.

“Thank you,” Tom breathed, rubbing his sore wrists. “Now let’s get out of here before they spot us.”

“Too late. Run!” Ruth shrieked. The trolls had finished helping their friend and had turned back to their now-freed prisoner. Ruth grabbed Tom’s hand and ran pell-mell into the swampy forest. The trolls roared in anger and the chase began.

Tom and Ruth raced side by side, breathing as shallow as they could, listening to their pursuers’ footsteps, which thankfully, seemed to be fading. I guess our small size helps in these thick woods. I wonder why they live here if they have a hard time moving around, Ruth thought, panting from exhaustion.

“I think they’re—” Ruth was cut off by a crackling noise in the brush next to them. She screamed and grabbed Tom’s arm. Tom jumped so hard that he tripped and fell backwards. Ruth, having a firm grip on his arm, fell with him.

They fell right into quicksand. Ruth flailed and splashed to try and break out of the weird substance, but it held her fast, pulling her down with it. Tom was struggling next to her, with the same amount of luck as her: none. The sand was up to her chest, bearing down on her with incredible force. It rose to her chin. She could feel it seeping into her clothes, as if taking over her body. It climbed to her mouth, her nose. She couldn’t breathe. She tilted her head up to try and replace more air, but all she got was a mouthful of quicksand. The world was a blurry, fractured image made up of sand and fatigue. She closed her eyes, and remembered nothing.

Ruth was alive. But she felt awful, like she had swallowed the whole pit of quicksand. Groaning, she sat up and looked around.

Tom lay beside her. Next to him was the pit of quicksand they had fallen into. How did we… Ruth began to wonder, then she saw him.

He was a small, thin man, with big eyes and a sharp, small nose. His eyebrows were launched high up on his head, giving his face a look of perpetual quizzical surprise. He had thin wisps of white hair. He also had a hunched back that reminded Ruth way too much of the trolls. She scooted away from the strange man.

“Who are you?”

“Wouldn’t we all like to know that?” said the man immediately in a loud, wheezy voice. He chuckled loudly.

“What’s your name?” Ruth tried.

The man thought for a second, as if he had forgotten. “Draoi. Good name, eh?”

“Sure…” Ruth said. The name felt familiar to her. I think it’s Irish. But she shrugged it off and proceeded to try to wake Tom up. She tapped his cheek lightly. “Tom.” He didn’t move. She tapped harder. “Tom?” She felt his pulse. Still alive. “Tom.” She gave him a sharp rap on the face. “TOM!” She slapped him again. Hard.

“What?” Tom sat up, gasping as a giant headache hit him. “How?” Tom started, then saw Draoi. “Who..?”

“He said his name is Draoi. He’s a little…” She looped her finger around her ear.

“What?”

“What what?”

“What’s...” He imitated her finger loop.

“Oh. Crazy. He’s not right in the head. I don’t think,” she whispered.

Tom nodded. “How did we get out of the pit?” he asked Draoi.

“You didn’t,” he said shortly.

“Yeeees, we did,” Tom argued.

“No, you didn’t. I got you out. You’re welcome, eh?” He chuckled loudly.

“How did you get us out of the pit?” Ruth asked.

“Just a little…” He snapped his fingers. “Eh?”

Ruth, thoroughly confused, looked at Tom for help.

“You’re a wizard?” Tom asked.

Draoi didn’t answer. He began to hum to himself softly. Ruth and Tom exchanged looks. They weren’t getting anywhere with this man.

“Ruth! The Key!” Tom whispered suddenly.

“Oh no!” Ruth stood and turned in wild circles, as if the Key was hidden in the bushes somewhere. “We need to get back! The trolls could be miles away by now! How long have we been out?!” She clutched her head.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where the troll’s camp is, would you?” Tom asked the man.

He looked at them suspiciously. “Why?”

“We need to replace something there.”

“The Key, eh?”

“Well, yeah,” Ruth admitted.

“What makes you so sure the Key is there, eh?”

“Information from a friend. What are you getting at?” Tom gave Draoi a piercing stare.

“Is this the Key you were speaking of?” Draoi dug into his grubby pocket and produced the fourth and final Key.

Ruth gasped. “You have it!” She reached for it, but he pulled away

“No, no. You think I’m just going to give it to you? No, no, I need something from you first. Go on.” He looked at her expectantly as if he had already told her what to do.

“What? We don’t have anything to give; do you see us right now?” Ruth gestured to the grimy, empty-handed Tom, and then at herself, who was in a similar state. He didn’t answer. “Come on, we don’t have time for this. Just give it!” She lunged for the Key, but Draoi jerked it away with surprising agility.

“Oh, no. You think you can just take it from me, eh? Well, daughter, that’s not how it works.”

Ruth’s gaze softened at the word ‘daughter.’ “Can I please have the Key? We really are running out of time! This is very—” She didn’t have to say anymore. In the middle of the sentence, Draoi relented and tossed the Key to Ruth. She caught it and looked at him in surprise.

“I thought you said we had to give you something for it?” Tom asked.

“Oh yes, you did. She said please.” And off he went, humming to himself as he wandered into the forest.

“What a strange man,” Ruth marveled as he left.

“Strange indeed,” Tom agreed. “But look! We have all four Keys! We can rescue your father!”

“Yes! That’s right!” Ruth quickly handed Tom the fourth Key, and he dug the others from his pocket. Each one was the same. A simple golden key with a small emerald on the edge. “I wonder what…” Ruth began to say, but stopped short.

The four Keys in Tom’s hand began to glow, brighter and brighter until they had to shield their eyes from the blinding light. A sound, so high-pitched it was barely audible, rose as the light grew brighter. Then it died away. They uncovered their eyes to look.

In Tom’s hand was one, beautiful Key. It had four green emeralds along the circular part, and when they looked closer at it, they saw that it had beautiful engravings along the edges.

One was of a lake or a lagoon shrouded in mist, with what looked like a fish tail flipping into the water. Another was of a tall, unfriendly castle. The third was a raging whirlpool foaming and ripping and tearing. The final one was of a thick, boggy forest, lit only by the light of a few glowing mushrooms. Even though they were just drawings, if Ruth looked close enough, she could swear they were moving.

“Oh, Tom!” Ruth breathed. “It’s beautiful.” Her pulse quickened as she imagined using the Key to rescue her father from his horrible prison cell.

“But it’s a very dangerous thing to have here, and if I’m not mistaken it’s gotten bigger, too. Come on, we need to replace a place to hide it.”

“We can take turns carrying it. Here, put it… um, do you have any rope?” Ruth asked. “We could tie it to your leg and pull your pant leg over it.”

“Oh yes, I think I might have a scrap somewhere…here.” He handed Ruth the rope and she tied it on.

Once they were ready, they realized they had a problem. The trees were so thick, and they had run so far that neither of them knew the right direction to take. Ruth pointed this out to Tom.

“Oh, that’s alright. I have a…” he trailed off, patting his empty pockets.

“You have a…?” Ruth prompted.

“I did have a compass. At one point.”

“Oh! Yeah, this is just great!” Ruth’s voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “Lost in a forest with a bunch of angry man-eating trolls! Gee, that sounds like a lot of fun, why didn’t we make this our first stop, Tom?”

“Ruth, it’s—”

“Oh, no no no no no no. Why didn’t we make this our first stop? Because, if we did, guess what? You wouldn’t have lost the compass!”

“Me!? So this is my fault now? You would be dead if it weren’t for me!”

“So would you!” Ruth argued, their voices rising.

“No, actually, I’d be safe at home, away from mermaids who want to drown me, a Gnome King who wants to kill me as entertainment, a murderous Sorceress, a deadly whirlpool, bloodthirsty trolls, and the dwarfs that I ran away from…and, I never wanted to help rescue your father in the first place! It was his fault he was stupid enough to get himself captured!” Tom glared at her. She willed back tears, shocked by what he had said. Red-hot rage boiled behind her eyelids, pushing its way out of her.

Then she blinked. A calming wave of warmth washed over her, soothing her boiling emotions and letting her think straight. There was a noise in the bushes. She gasped and moved closer to Tom. He didn’t move away. Ruth took that as a good sign.

“Tom, did you hear that?” The soothing warmth seemed to have drained the anger and the fight from her.

He ignored her question. “North is that way.” He pointed.

“Are you sure?” Ruth looked at him skeptically.

“Yes.”

He sounded sure of himself, and she didn’t want to offend him, plus she didn’t know where else to go, so she followed Tom.