Troll Mountain: The Complete Novel by Matthew Reilly

Author:Matthew Reilly [Matthew Reilly]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781760080983
Publisher: Momentum
Published: 2014-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Raf found himself in a small guardroom lit with candles: a room that had been converted into a laboratory.

Thick wooden benchtops were covered with jars, pots, and barrels, all of which were filled with bubbling, steaming liquids. On long shelves sat unruly clusters of flowers, fruits, and vegetables; garlic and onions hung from strings.

In the floor in the center of the guardroom was a wooden ladder that led to lower levels.

And in the midst of it all, snoring loudly, fast asleep in a chair, was a small wrinkled old troll.

*

Raf stared at the old troll in wonder.

He had never seen a troll like him. He was smaller than the others, shorter even than Raf was. And he had reedy arms and thin knock-knees. His nose was long and beaky, with several warts, and he had a long white beard on his chin and wild bushy eyebrows. A field troll.

As Raf peered in wonderment, the troll snorted suddenly, making him jump.

But it was well and truly asleep.

Raf realized with a thrill that this was his chance: to steal the Elixir and get away from Troll Mountain unnoticed.

If he could find the Elixir now and leave this tower without waking the old troll, he could be out of the mountains by morning and home with the cure within days.

Moving slowly and carefully so as not to make the slightest sound, Raf went over to the laboratory’s benches, scanning them for the Elixir.

There.

Three small glass bottles stood on a table off to one side, all on their own, separated from the clutter of the rest of the room.

They were all filled with the same amber liquid and each bottle was of far higher quality than any of the other vessels in the laboratory. Apart from the dry husks of several discarded lemons and limes beside them, the benchtop around the three bottles was empty. Clearly, these three bottles were special.

Raf stood before them, gazing at the all-powerful Elixir.

Damn the trolls, he thought. He’d take all three.

He stepped forward, his foot landing on an ancient floorboard.

It creaked …

… and the old troll awoke mid-snore, snapping up, looking around in a muddle. “What—? Who—oh my—how did you get in here!”

Raf stood erect, somehow finding nobility in being discovered. “I come from the valley you trolls keep under your thumb—”

The little old troll ignored him, rushing past him to the door through which Raf had entered the tower.

He crouched by the doorframe, looking down at the floor beside it. “You silly fool—!”

“I seek the magic Elixir,” Raf said desperately. “My people are dying. Please do not raise the alarm …”

The old troll turned, pointing to a mechanism in the floor by the door: a weighted rope plunged down into a hole in the floorstones there.

“My young friend, I’m sorry to inform you that the alarm has already been raised.” He spoke far more eloquently than Düm or the guards did. “The Troll King keeps me prisoner here. I cannot even go outside for air without his knowing it.

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