Troll Quest

By Suzanna Stanbury

Children's book for ages 6 – 9
43000 words

The Bridge Trolls from the great undercity of Venice are in turmoil. A dire warning has been delivered from the troll witch that unless the trolls can solve the riddles in her prophesy by the turn of the next moon, the city will sink beneath the lagoon.

The grand troll council dispatches forth two young trolls on a mission against time to save the Bridge Trolls' ancient home.

Using powerful Vulco-boards to travel, Crankio and Nozio soon team up with Magma, a bossy Bog Troll, and Vespa, a bright little Mountain Troll and the four of them head off on a great adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanna Stanbury
• Release date: Jan 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465845030

Suzanna Stanbury

Suzanna Stanbury lives in Bristol, England. She publishes as Snub Try Publishing. Suzanna writes children's books, novels and short stories. She performs regularly at spoken word events, performing at schools and libraries encouraging children to love books. She is administrator and an active member of The Bristol Fiction Writers' Group. Website: http://snubtry.weebly.com/ Twitter: @suzannastanbury Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/SuzannaStanbury The illustrations for Suzanna Stanbury books are created by Liz Ascott.

Book preview

Troll Quest

Suzanna Stanbury

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*****

PUBLISHED BY

Suzanna Stanbury on Smashwords

Troll Quest

Copyright © 2014 Suzanna Stanbury

Smashwords Edition

License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author.

Thank you for your support.

Cover Art copyright © Liz Ascott 2014

Troll Quest copyright © 2014 Suzanna Stanbury

Snub Try Publishing

A glossary of troll words and information can be found at the back of this book.

Chapter One

The Prophesy

When the sun sets over the beautiful city of Venice, under each of its 400 bridges something begins to stir. As the city quietens, far below the canals and waterways, the secret caves and tunnels are filled with the sound of noisy yawning; the Bridge Trolls are waking up, and at dusk the first thought on any troll’s mind is food: for the Bridge Trolls this mainly consists of large and juicy rats. After munching down nightfeast, the trolls emerge from their caves; swimming up through thick gloopy waters to spend the night playing tricks on any hapless person who passes over their bridge.

One fine summer’s evening as the full moon was on the rise, Crankio, a bright young troll of just 74 years of age, broke the surface of the water with a plop. Sighing deeply as the chewy night air filled his lungs; he let out a burp which echoed under the stone supports of his bridge. Crankio swam to the wall, claws scraping until he located the neatly hidden rungs and all the time his stomach was rumbling loudly causing him to mutter crossly under his breath.

I’m starving – not enough nightfeast again; take heed, Crankio – cook more food! Footsteps echoed overhead, someone was coming down the brick-lined passageway leading to his bridge. Crankio quickly scaled the wall, climbing over the parapet; he crouched in the shadows to wait.

The pitter, patter of footsteps grew louder and soon a pair of shiny leather boots appeared through the archway. Crankio grinned, swinging to the wall with a smooth swoop he scraped a handful of dripping, sticky moss from the wall and with an upwards twist he threw it right onto the shiny boots.

Urgh! Urgh! Urgh! cried the owner of the boots. Crankio smiled a wicked smile and just about managed to keep from laughing out loud – he knew that would never do, for trolls were one of Venice’s deepest secrets and must remain so. The clod of moss was kicked over the side of the bridge, missing him by a rat’s whisker; Crankio ducked in time and the moss plopped into the water. Choking back his giggles Crankio watched the figure hurrying away, still trying to remove the gunge and tripping with every other step.

Hoy!

Crankio turned around so quickly he nearly lost his balance and almost toppled over the stone balustrade into the water. Che cosa…? Looking down the canal, he could see nothing moving at all. Leaning out dangerously far over the bridge Crankio stared along the stretch of dark water and could just make out an arm waving to him from under the next bridge.

Nozio! he grumbled. Pestiferous Nozio – I should have known it would be him.

It occurred to Crankio that Nozio may not have eaten all his nightfeast and he may still have some food left. Very swiftly he climbed down the rungs under the bridge and reaching underneath pulled something away from the wall throwing it onto the surface of the water with a splat.

Crankio landed on his Gondo-board, and with a swift kick he powered the board up. The motor made a noise like an asthmatic toad, and the board skimmed away over the still waters towards Nozio’s bridge.

Ave, Nozio, called out Crankio, slowing the board and bumping into the wall.

Ave to you too, Crankio, how are you this fine night?

Hungry, replied Crankio, tucking his board under his arm and swiftly scaling the wall.

You’re always hungry. Nozio swung down to greet his friend.

Nozio’s home was the last bridge before the salt-water lagoon. His job as sentinel was to guard the undercity, and to report any signs of danger or unwelcome visitors. Nozio and Crankio had known each other for a very long time and although Nozio often despaired of his friend’s greediness and peculiar habits he preferred Crankio’s company to most of the other young trolls.

What’s that in your fur? asked Nozio.

Crankio looked down. Moss, I expect, from pranking. Picking the green lumps out, he flicked them into the water. Got any rat left, Nozio? Crankio docked his Gondo-board on Nozio’s gleaming new board rack, scratching the shiny surface as he shoved it into place.

Careful! said Nozio, leaning down to inspect the damage. That’s the very latest board rack from the trorge.

Nozio was a fine, well-built troll – whereas Crankio was smaller and wiry. Nozio liked to dress smartly in neat, grey shorts worn with a black leather belt while Crankio’s shorts were made of grey and white pinstriped material and were always slightly grubby.

"So – do have you any food left? Crankio rubbed his stomach hopefully. I know you never eat all your nightfeast." He grinned.

You’re in luck, replied his friend. I did cook too much nightfeast and kept some back for a snack. Unravelling a piece of oilcloth, Nozio displayed a large portion of rat pasty.

Can I have all of that? Reaching out, Crankio grabbed at the pasty.

Half, said Nozio, you can only have half. He clung on tightly to one corner of the food; Crankio lunged at it and a tug-o-war ensued; back and forth went the pasty until at last Crankio gave his corner a mighty heave and it flew out of Nozio’s hand. Crankio shoved the pasty straight into his mouth.

With a mighty whack, Nozio shoved him over the parapet into the water. Crankio sank rapidly, leaving just a few bubbles popping on the surface – a sure fire sign he was still busy chewing the pasty underwater. When he’d finished, Crankio re-emerged to find Nozio had vanished.

Hoy! shouted Crankio. Nozio, where are you?

Sssh! came a hiss from the bridge above his head. Crankio swam to the wall and climbed back up, trailing weed and a few twigs with him. When he reached the bridge he discovered Nozio staring out towards the salt-water lagoon.

Listen, Nozio said as Crankio landed beside him with a squelch. I think I can hear a Bog-board coming.

Crankio pulled at his ear, shaking out a watersnail, he listened intently. A humming sound was growing louder. The bright moonlight shining down on the canal picked up glints in a mass of red hair on the chunky troll riding the board towards them. The buzzing Bog-board entered the waterway, coming to a halt under Nozio’s bridge it spluttered into silence.

It’s Magma, said Crankio, squinting down. I wonder what she wants?

Why don’t you wait and find out what she wants? Nozio was still cross with Crankio for pinching his snack.

Ave, Bridge Trolls, called a loud voice, its tone sharp and haughty.

Ave, Magma, chorused the Bridge Trolls in reply.

I have come with a prophesy from the Tritch, shouted Magma.

Crankio groaned. I hate the Tritch – she gives me the creeps.

There was a creak as Magma climbed the rungs up to the bridge. The Tritch is all knowing and all seeing, she said, docking her Bog-board on Nozio’s rack with an almighty clonk.

I know, that’s why she gives me the creeps, called back Crankio.

An enormous hairy leg swung over the side of the bridge, long toes wiggled trying to get a grip on the stone; and grunting and puffing, Magma climbed over the parapet and stood before them.

Bog Trolls are a good head taller than Bridge Trolls and are much broader across the chest. Magma poked her spreading nose into the air, smoothed her mass of wild hair behind her whooping great ears then huffed down on their heads.

Look – do you want this prophesy or not? she said crossly. I didn’t come all the way from the Festrin Bog for nothing, you know.

Go on then, let’s get it over with. Crankio frowned up at her. Let’s hear this prophesy of yours.

***

The Festrin bog, where Magma lived lay not far from the city. It was a bleak and soggy place lurking in the shadows of Mount Melba – a medium sized volcano. Italy has many volcanoes, some that are known and some that are not; and at the top of every one lives a troll witch. Troll witches, known as tritches, have the gift of foresight. Each night they sit inside their volcanoes gazing into the bubbling, sulphurous ooze looking for signs of a vision – sometimes a vision will appear quite soon after the last one, or it may take many years before another rises to the surface of the ooze.

When a vision does arrive, the Tritch will immediately become very excited. She will caper about, rush outside her cave, and most likely she will set a torch aflame then wave it over her head whilst shrieking: I have seen, I have seen! Far below her at the base of the volcano, the local trolls will have gathered to argue and fight about who should climb the volcano to hear the latest prophesy.

***

This time at the trollony by the Festrin Bog; due to the fact she had not fetched a prophesy for 25 years, Magma had lost the argument; she hated climbing the volcano and wished a new arrangement could be brought in, perhaps she could nominate another troll to climb and then she, Magma, could deliver the message. Magma took a deep breath to prepare her voice, after clearing her throat with a series of alarming rasping noises she began.

"Trolls must act by the turn of the moon,

Or the city will sink beneath the lagoon…"

Is that all? interrupted Crankio. The city’s always sinking – it’s been sinking since the beginning of troll time.

Nozio punched him. Let her finish, she hasn’t finished.

Magma cleared her throat again. There was a loud splash as she spat the rock she’d been chewing over the side of Nozio’s bridge.

"A lake is long lost; its scales have all fled,

To seek a new and watery bed.

Trolls must seek the river’s source,

To stir the beast who blocks its course.

Trolls must hurry to find the black mass,

Entice them home to make their green gas.

If trolls do fail in this their quest,

They must find a new home to take their rest."

What on earth does that mean? asked Crankio, scratching his head.

I have no idea, said Magma, tossing her hair. It’s your prophesy.

Well, it’s a stupid prophesy and I think you should take it and stuff it…

Nozio clamped his hand over Crankio’s mouth to shut him up. Thank you, Magma, said Nozio, politely. "We will, of course, have to tell the Trouncil, after all it’s my duty as city sentinel to deliver bad news. Nozio beamed at her. Err, Magma…" he said.

Che cosa?

I wondered… as you are so very good at speeches. I thought, perhaps… well, the prophesy would sound much better if you told it to the Trouncil. They would be very impressed to hear your wonderful voice.

Magma fluffed her hair again. I do have a remarkable voice, don’t I? she said. Many trolls have commented on how commanding I sound. She preened her hair, flicking it out and catching Crankio in the face.

This will be the perfect opportunity for you to delight us with your-err-forthright tones, said Nozio.

Oh, all right, said Magma, If you insist.

Crankio put his hands around his throat behind Magma’s back, sticking his tongue out he began making choking noises. Magma whirled around, glaring at him.

I’m just so excited I can’t keep still, said Crankio, showing his teeth in a very false smile.

Magma snorted, grabbing his shoulder she gave him a shove forwards. Come on, then, she ordered. Show me to the grand chamber.

Chapter Two

The Trouncil

The troll council of Venice had been meeting in times of trouble, or of direst emergency, for nearly a thousand years – the fact that there had only been eight meetings in all that time tells you that on the whole trolls don’t really have very much to worry about.

It was 300 years ago this very summer