It was Mitch.
Remmaline couldn’t believe her eyes. The man who had just blindfolded her, thrown her under the bed, cut her hair, and handled her so roughly was the man that had helped care for her over the past four years. Remmaline’s eyes filled with tears again. “How could you?” she asked.
Mitch ignored her as he reached and grabbed a pouch that had been attached to his belt. He reached into the pouch with his right hand and pulled out something black and smelly. Before Remma could even react, he started to smear the substance all over her face. It was mud. Remma grimaced as the gritty substance was crudely spread over her cheeks, her nose, and her chin. Some of it got into her eyes, but Mitch obviously didn’t care. Remmaline blinked and tried to rub it out so that she could see again, but as soon as she raised her arms, Mitch slapped her. “Listen, Remma,” he muttered in a low but sinister voice, “If you want to make it out of here in one piece, you’d better do what I tell you, and ONLY what I tell you. Do you understand?” Remmaline nodded.
After covering her face with mud, Mitch reached under Cable’s bed and grabbed something. It was a ragged cloak that was filthy and tattered. Remma couldn’t recognize it--she figured Mitch must have brought it with him and left it there earlier. Mitch then ordered Remmaline to stand up. When she did, he took the filthy cloak and draped it over her dress. Remma bowed her head in shame. “Oh Mitch,” she cried. “This was Daddy’s favorite dress.”
“I couldn’t care less about your father,” Mitch said. “Now listen to me. When we walk out that door, we’re going to head to the royal stables. I’m going to pretend that you are Butch the stable boy, and you are going to do whatever I say. All right? Believe me--you won’t want to find out what happens if you decided to scream or run away.” Then, without waiting for a response, Mitch grabbed her by the arm and led her outside.
Mitch led them to the left as they exited the bedroom. The hallway was deserted; it appeared that everyone had gone to Julianna’s birthday party. Remmaline was heartbroken. Who would be able to save her? After going down the hallway a ways, they entered a door to their right. The door led to a stairway. Their footsteps echoed eerily in the cavernous stairwell. When the reached the bottom, they turned to the right. After they walked for about 100 feet, they came to a door. As Mitch started to push it open, he stopped abruptly. Remmaline thought she heard footsteps behind them. She started to turn, but Mitch grabbed her arm and said, “Don’t move.” Mitch then slowly turned around and stared.
The hallway was empty. Remma grimaced. It must have simply been her imagination. Of course, if the footsteps had simply been in her imagination, how could Mitch have heard them as well?
When they passed through the doorway, they entered the stable. Night was falling, and the stables were nearly enveloped in darkness. Mitch dragged Remmaline along as he walked briskly to the back to the stable. Remmaline, unable to see and unfamiliar with the stables, tripped over a bucket. The sound seemed deafening, after the intense silence of the past few moments. Mitch raised his voice. “Watch where you’re going, Butch!” he bellowed. “Now get me my horses!”
Remmaline remained silent and stumbled along behind Mitch. Once they reached the back of the stable, Mitch grabbed the horse that he was looking for. Moving swiftly, he led the horse out of the stable with one hand while maintaining a firm grip on Remmaline with the other hand. Mitch then led them toward one of the king’s wagons that was positioned just outside the stable. He opened the door to the wagon and rudely grabbed Remma and threw her inside. “Just sit there and be quiet. We’re in for a long ride,” he said as he shut the door.
Mitch then hitched up the horse to the wagon, mounted up in the driver’s seat, and gave the command. The horse obediently started to trot. The wagon circled behind the castle and headed west, toward the Jagged Mountains. Remmaline’s heart sank. As she saw the silhouette of the mountains in the moonlight, she realized where Mitch was taking her. She was heading toward Dor-ko’s land.
Mitch drove the horse onward, and the wagon moved down the road with great speed. Once the sun had completely set behind the mountains, the wagon reached the foothills and started to climb. The road was well-marked, and Mitch had no trouble navigating by the moonlight. Remma hoped that someone would stop them, for several outposts of soldiers were positioned on this road in order to provide a warning in case any enemy soldiers tried to invade. But no one stopped them. Remma then realized that there was no reason to stop them, for they were riding in the king’s wagon. No one suspected a thing.
As the miles dragged on, Remmaline’s heart filled with despair. She felt completely hopeless. No one knew where she was. She hadn’t even thought to leave behind a clue about what had happened, or where she was going. And now, as the earth cooled after sunset, she began to feel very cold. Her body shivered, gently at first, but then uncontrollably. She was scared and exhausted and hungry and frigid, and there was nothing she could do about it. Once again, the tears started to flow. “Oh Daddy,” she mumbled quietly, “if only you knew...”
At that point, Remmaline felt a strange warmness next to her. She opened her eyes and looked beside her. To her great surprise, an owl--a big, fluffy, feathery owl--was sitting at her side. Remmaline was scared at first, and she immediately backed away. But as she continued to stare at the silent owl, she realized that he meant her no harm. In fact, she felt strangely and suddenly calm in his presence. She had never seen an owl this close before, although she could remember the boys talking about an owl they had met on their adventure about four years ago. Could this be the same owl? Did owls live that long?
Remmaline continued to stare. The owl didn’t move, neither did he glance back at Remma. He just sat there, peering into the darkness outside. Remmaline then slid back over and wrapped her arms around the owl. To her amazement, the warmth was almost too great. So she let go, turned sidewise, and leaned her back against him, like a camper might do at a campfire that was too hot to face. Then, as she leaned back against the owl, her heart grew calm and she fell asleep.
When Remmaline woke up, she was lying flat on the floor of the wagon. The owl was no longer there. Remma was puzzled. Had he left? Or had he also just been a part of her imagination? She thought that maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing. But then again, how could she have managed to have such a peaceful sleep in a wagon while being taken captive? She hadn’t even had a blanket on her! Emmaline scratched her head in wonder.
As she peered outside, she could see the darkness starting to retreat as the sun slowly crept upward in the east. The wagon seemed to be high up in the mountains. The air was crisp and cold, and the view of the surrounding mountains and the plains plains below was stunning. In fact, it almost felt like they were preparing to start going down again. Remma cautiously stood up in order to get a better view. Then she almost fell down as the wagon came to a halt. Remma crouched down. Peering through a small peephole, she saw a soldier carrying the king’s flag approach. The soldier planted the flag and the ground and saluted. “Greetings, sir!” he declared cheerfully as he saluted.
Remmaline couldn’t see Mitch, but she could hear him as he replied brusquely. “What do you want?” he said.
The soldier, whose face Remmaline could clearly make out, approached closer. “Sir,” he declared, “this is our furthest outpost. Once you pass this point, we can offer you no more protection. That is Dor-ko’s country. King Maximilian will one day conquer him, but until that day comes, there is still great danger. I would urge you to go no further.”
“Don’t you know who you’re talking to?” asked Mitch. “I work for Maximilian himself! Who are you to stop me?”
“Look sir, I mean you no harm,” replied the soldier. “I too serve the king. But my orders are to let no one pass unless they have orders from Prince Dorian or the King. So I would ask you to please turn around. We have provisions for you here, if you need a meal or some sort of refreshment.”
“All right, buddy. Do you need orders? Let me show you my orders.” Remma saw the soldier come still closer. She was torn. Should she jump out now? The soldier was almost close enough to touch! But Remmaline was paralyzed with fear and spellbound by the story that was unfolding before her eyes. Her mind told her to move, but her body wouldn’t budge.
Then, to her shock, she heard a great thud, and she saw the soldier crumple to the ground. Instead of grabbing orders, Mitch had grabbed a wooden staff that was hidden on his seat. He had then clubbed the unsuspecting soldier on the side of the head. Remma gasped, but no words escaped her mouth. She watched in wide-eyed fear as Mitch grabbed the reins and urged his horse onward. Remma looked backward as they careened down the road. Her last hope--the king’s brave soldier at this remote outpost--lay motionless on the road as she descended into Dor-ko’s country. She wept again. That owl must have simply been imaginary after all. She was a prisoner and there was no going back. She lamented once again that she had failed to leave the least clue. She was gone, and nobody knew a thing.
***************************************
But of course, Remmaline was wrong. For the footsteps that she thought she heard just before they’d entered the stable were not imaginary. They were real. And they belonged to the real Butch, the one who tended the stable. Butch hated parties, and so he was skipping out on Julianna’s party. But before he left the party, he had stolen a few handfuls of cake from Skittlechip’s kitchen. He knew the Skittlechip wouldn’t mind--he always left extra food around for the faithful stable boy.
As Butch made his way back to the stable, he walked on tip-toes to avoid being noticed. He didn’t want to have to share his cake with anybody besides his horses. But as he slinked through the hallways, he heard someone else’s footsteps heading toward the stable just ahead of him. Stalking these people like a cat, Butch managed to make out the figures of Mitch and Remmaline. What could he be doing? Butch thought to himself. He followed them down the stairwell before tripping on the final stair and stumbling a bit. That was what Mitch and Remmaline had heard. But before they could turn, Butch leaped back into the stairwell. He hadn’t been seen after all.
Butch then followed them into the stable. He saw Mitch grab the horse, and he saw him throw Remmaline into the wagon. Most startlingly, he heard Mitch call her “Butch. This was particularly odd, since he knew that he was the real Butch, not Remmaline! As he saw the wagon tear off around the corner of the castle, he tossed the cake to the other horses in the stable and ran upstairs to tell the king.
The king listened intently to Butch. Butch always loved to talk to the king. Though he was a humble stable boy, he always felt like the most important person in the world when he talked with Maximilian. After listening to his tale, the king walked upstairs. He went to the boys’ room. He walked over to Cable’s bed. Stooping down, he looked at the floor. He reached down and felt the tears. And then the king wept. His tears fell to the floor and formed a small puddle that covered Remma’s tears. Yes, Remma had indeed left a message for her father king--a message of tears. And the king would not fail to answer her plea for help.
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