Betrayal in the Highlands

By Robert Evert

Riddle in Stone’s unlikely hero holds the fate of humanity in his hands in this epic fantasy from the author of the Quests of the Kings Trilogy.
 
Pursued relentlessly by goblin hunters for the ancient secret he knows, Edmund, the stuttering librarian, fights back in this fast-paced sequel to Riddle in Stone.
 
Edmund’s old, boring life is gone forever. Knowing the answer to a cryptic riddle that, if in the wrong hands, could destroy all of humanity, Edmund is hiding in a sleepy coastal town as far from the frozen mountains of the Undead King as possible. For a moment, he believes he’s finally safe. Then he learns that Molly, the woman he’s loved since childhood, is telling stories about him—stories that will get him and his friends killed. Edmund is forced to embark on a perilous journey home to confront the woman who broke his heart. If he fails, all will be lost.
 
“If there’s one fantastic thing about Evert’s atypical hero, its been Edmund’s journey from middle-aged, stuttering, self-doubting librarian to middle-aged, stuttering, one-eyed survivor who’ll risk his life to keep even a troll from standing in his way or hurting those he cares about.” —The BiblioSanctum

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Sep 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781626810792

Book preview

PART ONE

Chapter One

Are we … are we almost there? Pond asked, panting as he scrambled up the hill after Edmund.

Edmund labored around another tree, sweat trickling into the hole where his left eye used to be. In the shadows caused by the moonlight, he could only see a few feet in front of him, making his progress slow and often painful. Fatigue, however, was his biggest concern. Soon he would have to stop whether he wanted to or not, and he knew at least twenty goblin hunters weren’t far behind.

Almost, he said, ducking under a low branch. I think … I think I can hear it up ahead.

Hear what?

Veering to his left, Edmund set off for a gap between two jagged hills looming in the blackness before them.

The sound of rushing water grew louder.

This better not be another dead end. If we get trapped …

There’s a river around here, he said over his shoulder. The River Celerin. It’s nearby. It’ll … it’ll … it’ll hide our tracks.

Celerin? Pond repeated. That’s … that’s a big river, isn’t it? I mean, it … it isn’t just a small stream, right?

Edmund grunted, his pace slowing to a limping jog and then to a walk. He stopped and doubled over, sucking in the smell of dry autumn leaves in great, gulping swallows.

His puppy, Becky, leapt from his arms.

I … I don’t know if I can keep this up much longer. Pond collapsed onto the ground next to him. I can’t keep running.

Do you want to go back to the goblin pits?

Pond shook his head.

Then we either run, or we die. It’s that simple.

Edmund took a drink.

I’m … I’m sorry, he said, handing the waterskin to Pond. But, but we … we have to keep running. We have no other choice.

Pond took several quick sips, and then poured some of the water over his sweaty face. We could hide.

They keep finding us. I don’t know how … but … but they always do.

They probably smell you. You stink!

The river will take care of that.

Becky danced on her hind legs, begging to be picked up.

The river, Edmund said, trying to slow his pounding heart. The river is our only hope. We … we have to put some distance between us and them. The river … the river will help.

Without warning, Becky pounced on one of Pond’s boots, latching on to it as though it were a deadly enemy.

For the love of— Pond pried her off his ankle.

You were saying? he asked, holding the writhing puppy in his outstretched arms, her sharp teeth flashing in the moonlight.

I’m not sure how Kravel keeps f-f-find, finding us, Edmund stammered, arching his aching back. Maybe he’s … maybe he’s tracking us by scent. Maybe by—

Pond cried out. Becky had found a way to bite her captor.

She sprung free and raced in frantic circles around them, kicking up dead leaves in her wake.

Damned dog. Pond flexed his thumb. A drop of blood pooled above a small puncture mark. I say we tie her to a tree and leave.

Becky leapt on Pond’s shin, growling as she pulled at the previously shredded pant leg.

Could you please do something about her?

Here. Edmund tossed him the knotted remains of a cloak she had previously defeated. Have her play with this.

Becky stopped pulling and watched the tattered cloak dangling in front of her nose, eyes following the swirling olive-green fabric.

Pond threw the cloak as far as he could. Becky bounded down the hillside, flying after it with reckless abandon.

Honestly, Pond said, examining the holes in his pants, I don’t understand what you see in the little monster.

I like dogs, Edmund replied. Remember what Thorax did for us? We wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for her. Or worse, we’d be living in Kar-Nazar’s wet cells with our hands and feet cut off.

Poor Thorax …

Thorax was well-behaved, Pond said. This one is crazy. Seriously, there’s something wrong with her. It’s like she’s part demon.

Becky pranced up the incline, thrashing the cloak from side to side.

I’m sorry she’s such a p-p-pain, Edmund said, trying not to stutter. I’ll … I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Besides, with her quick ears and keen sense of smell, we can rest easier at night. She’s saved us more than once already.

Sleep easier? Not with her jumping on me every few seconds. I haven’t slept since you got her.

She only attacks when you move. So don’t move.

Pond snorted. Don’t move, you say.

Behind them on the crest of a distant rise, a black shape appeared, its humanoid form silhouetted against the bluish stars of the midnight sky. Two more became visible, followed by at least another score.

Edmund clutched Pond’s arm. Hurry! He yanked Pond to his feet. They’re coming. We have to get out of here.

They tried to run, but their bodies would only allow a lurching stumble.

Becky leapt after them, still growling and thrashing the cloak about.

What’s your plan exactly? Pond asked, forcing himself up the incline. With the river and everything, I mean.

I figure … I figure we can use its current to float downriver. The muscles in Edmund’s legs were tightening; in a few minutes, he wouldn’t be able to move at all. We can float toward the lowlands. It’d be f-f-faster, faster than running, and the goblins won’t be able to follow our trail.

Then he added, If we can just reach one of the logging camps or mining towns to the south, we might finally be safe.

Pond appeared visibly shaken.

What? Edmund asked.

Well, I’m not a terribly strong swimmer.

You don’t have to be an expert or anything, he said, praying the river wasn’t far away. All you’ll have to do is float. The current will do the rest. You’ll be fine.

Pond’s sour expression worsened.

You don’t know how to swim, do you? Pond! You’re from sea-faring people!

I sold textiles. I’m a merchant, not a sailor.

Pond! Edmund threw his hands up in dismay. Can you at least tread water?

Not … not really. No.

Shaking his head, Edmund stared up at the moon in desperation. The night was growing old, and the goblins could move quickly in the dark. They’d be on them within the hour.

Stay and fight, or run. Those are our only options.

Next to him, Pond was still catching his breath. Even if it were daylight and they were both fully rested, they couldn’t fight twenty goblins and survive.

Look, we can’t stay here, Edmund said. The river is our only hope.

Well then, let’s give it a go. Who knows, maybe I’m a natural swimmer!

Death by goblins or by drowning …

At least you’d have a chance in the water.

I do. Pond doesn’t.

The night breeze shifted through the forest, rustling the leaves at their feet. It also brought with it a pungent odor of rotting meat.

Edmund sniffed, trying to recall what the stench reminded him of.

Then he remembered.

Get down! he said, dropping to his knees.

Why? What’s wrong?

Edmund hissed for Pond to be quiet. He crept to the hill’s summit, peered down the other side, and almost gasped.

In the valley below, he saw the River Celerin shimmering in the moonlight, and striding through its white water stalked a massive figure, a spear the size of a sapling in his hand.

What is it? Pond whispered, crawling next to Edmund. Through the trees, he saw the problem. A troll? Oh, well, that’s not good!

Not just any troll, Edmund said, watching the hideous monster push through the surging current. That’s the same troll who tried to bury me alive under the tower of Tol Helen. We must be further north than I thought.

He retreated from the ridge and moaned.

Caught between a troll and goblins.

So what do you want to do? Pond asked.

Edmund thought for a moment.

We’ll be fine, he whispered, not believing a word he was saying. We’ll just swing around to the south. The wind is coming from the east, so he won’t smell—

Shrill barking rang out into the night.

Oh no!

Edmund lunged for Becky, but she darted out of his grasp, yipping and snarling.

The troll hesitated midstream, searching for the source of the commotion in the hills to his right. Then he spied the small bundle of grey fur sliding down the slope.

Becky!

The troll gazed up at the patch of trees where Edmund and Pond hid.

Quick, Edmund said to Pond, gather those rocks together. Get anything you can throw!

Why?

Just do it! Hit him when he comes within range.

What’re you—?

Edmund threw himself over the ridge and plummeted after Becky, who had stopped mere inches from the river’s rumbling current. Ears pulled back and front legs lowered like a miniature bull, she barked at the colossal figure in the water.

Laughing, the troll considered the puppy and then Edmund as he half slid, half fell down the nearly vertical incline. Edmund tumbled to the riverbank, got to his bloodied knees, and drew forth his notched and slightly bent sword.

Grinning, the troll waded to shore, his spear at the ready.

What the hell are you doing?

Saving Becky!

You’re going to die. You can’t fight a troll. Not by yourself. Run!

Shaking, Edmund pointed his sword at the approaching troll.

Do you know how to use that meat cleaver? the troll asked, stepping onto the riverbank.

W … w … well, well enough, Edmund replied, hands tightening around the sword’s rusty hilt. B-B-Beck … Becky, come!

Becky retreated a few paces as the dripping troll lumbered closer, her entire body vibrating with every high-pitched yap and snarl. But she didn’t come.

What are you doing? Get the hell out of here. Run!

Run where? Kravel is right behind us. We can’t go back.

Becky, Edmund repeated louder, his voice quavering. Come!

Becky let loose another deluge of barks, hackles raised.

It’s either feast or famine in these hills. The troll winked at Edmund. It looks like a feast tonight!

M-m-m-maybe. Edmund brandished his sword in front of him. But I’m n-not, I’m not cooked yet. You’ll have to catch me first. Becky … come!

Becky still didn’t come.

Her neck craned upward as the troll closed in, the riverbank shaking with each calculated stride.

The troll hefted his crude spear to his shoulder; just thirty feet from Edmund, he couldn’t miss.

Oh, I won’t cook you. I’m going to eat you alive. Bit by bit. Like a rat nibbling on your bones.

If you’re going to fight him, get closer! You can’t do squat from here! Make him use that spear for thrusting. At least then you can parry it.

Edmund inched forward, closing the distance between him and the troll until he was just beyond the spear’s thrusting range.

I’m going to tear your fingers off, the troll said. Then your stubby little arms.

I have to get out of here …

Focus. Don’t let him distract you. You won’t get many opportunities. So when he attacks, block the spear and stab him. Keep your feet under you. Move!

Edmund circled a few steps to his left.

I’m going to use your skull as a drinking cup, the troll went on. Why don’t you run and give me some sport?

Yes, run!

Edmund wiped the sweat from his hands. It’s too dark. I’d r-r-run … I’d run into a tree.

You aren’t as stupid as you look.

The troll jabbed its spear at Edmund’s head.

Edmund dodged the sharpened point. Becky zipped up from behind and nipped at the troll’s toes, but a flick of his foot sent her flying off into the darkness with a yelp.

Do something!

Edmund leaned forward timidly, swinging his short sword, and missed the creature by at least four feet.

The troll laughed at him.

You’re never going to touch him from back here! Get closer.

If I get closer, he’ll skewer me!

Edmund took a step closer.

How did you lose your eye? the troll asked. He feigned a stab of his spear and, crying out, Edmund hopped back.

Be calm! Buy time! Look for an opening.

Goblins burnt it out, Edmund said, conscious of the sweat-soaked patch covering the hole where his eye used to be. Actually, you, you … you met them a while back. Kravel and Gurding?

At this, the troll straightened, his expression a mixture of astonishment and trepidation. Edmund shot forward, swinging his notched sword. Recovering from his surprise just in time, the troll blocked Edmund’s blow with the haft of his spear.

Edmund scurried back out of the troll’s long reach.

Kravel and Gurding? the troll asked, unnerved. You’re joking.

Becky reappeared from the darkness, leaves and thorns sticking in her muddy fur. She snapped at the night air, keeping her distance from the troll.

Not at all. A … a c-c-c-couple, a couple of years ago they spoke with you about me. Something about a weapon made of a bluish metal, I believe.

The troll flinched.

You stutter, he said, putting together distant memories. And you have a dog.

Get him in the knee! If he can’t run, you might be able to get out of here alive.

Edmund lunged again, jabbing at the troll’s elephant-like leg. The troll parried with a swipe of his spear, the force of which nearly wrenched the ringing sword out of Edmund’s hands.

A cloud passed over the bright moon, plunging the valley into deeper darkness.

The roar of the river continued, unabated.

If you know Kravel and Gurding, the troll said, stepping back still farther, tell me this. Which is the smart one?

Force him into the river. Perhaps he’ll slip on the wet stones.

You’re as good as dead if you stay here. You can’t fight a troll by yourself. You’re just a stuttering fool of a librarian!

Kravel. Edmund slid to his left. Kravel was the smart one. Gurding was just an idiot who did what he was told. But they didn’t have a brain between them.

The troll withdrew another step, keeping Edmund in front of him.

What do you mean, ‘didn’t’?

I killed them, Edmund lied.

He sprang forward, the tip of his sword coming within an inch of the troll’s left knee.

Damn! You’re never going to stab him with this tiny sword. You need something bigger.

The troll laughed. You’re a fine liar. I just spoke to—

Suddenly something the size of a bat flew through the dimness, sailing just behind the troll’s head and splashing into the river’s foamy current. As the troll spun to see what it was, Edmund drove forward again. This time, his short sword pierced deep into the troll’s enormous thigh. Black blood spurted, sizzling as it hit the damp ground.

Howling, the troll whirled around, his spear connecting with Edmund’s ribs. Edmund flew backward, bouncing to a stop ten feet from where he’d been, while Becky launched herself at the distracted troll and bit his ankle.

Holding his aching ribs, Edmund scrambled to his feet and charged. He was just about to impale the troll through the creature’s unprotected belly when something cold smacked against his temple. He fell sprawling to the ground.

Sorry! Pond yelled from the ridge high above them.

On his back, head swimming, Edmund felt blindly for his weapon.

There’s a reward for you, the troll said, ignoring Pond’s volley of stones and the growling puppy tugging his leg. A huge reward!

Edmund’s fingers wrapped around the mud-covered hilt.

If only I had a lance or—

A longer sword? Your spell! Your spell! Use your spell!

The troll bent over, reaching for Edmund’s throat, and gloated, You, little fella, are going to make me very, very wealthy!

Hand trembling, Edmund pointed his sword up at the troll and uttered the incantation his father taught him when he was a child.

Forstørre nå!

In a flash, the sword doubled in length, piercing the troll between his eyes and popping out through the back of his skull with a bone-splitting crack.

The troll shuddered then toppled forward, his immense leathery torso crashing down onto Edmund’s face and chest, pinning him to the rocky ground. He screamed for Pond as the troll’s hot blood coursed over him, burning his skin.

Chapter Two

Sorry about that rock, Pond said as Edmund began to stir. It’s dark.

Wh-wh … what? Wheezing, Edmund pushed Becky off his sore chest. Wh-why … why am I wet? He tried to sit up but collapsed next to the dead troll, the tip of his enlarged sword still protruding through the back of the creature’s gore-covered skull.

I threw water on you. Are you okay?

Becky leapt on him again, licking his dripping face.

What happened?

I hit the troll with a stone and he fell over. Unfortunately, he fell right on top of you. Sorry.

You? Edmund said, his head clearing. You killed him?

Pond shrugged. That, or it was you stabbing him between his eyes that did it. It’s tough to say, really.

Edmund laughed weakly and pushed Becky off his chest a second time. He propped himself up onto one elbow, inhaling as deeply as his complaining ribs would allow.

You okay? Pond asked again.

Edmund raised a pleading finger and winced. He cast his healing spell.

Smerte av reise.

The stabbing sensation that radiated from his sternum dulled. His lungs expanded a bit more as he took a deep breath without discomfort. The wheezing faded.

Better? Pond handed him a waterskin.

Edmund took a couple of swallows and then poured the rest of the water over his left arm, where some of the troll’s blood still burned. Under the blood, a rash was forming.

How long was I unconscious?

Only a few minutes, Pond said. I had a devil of a time getting the beast off of you. Becky was no help. She kept jumping on the damned thing, trying to bite its head off. She actually dug into its neck like a crazy chipmunk or something. I was hoping the troll’s blood would burn her to ashes, but for some reason it didn’t have any effect on her.

Next to them, with her muzzle and front paws coated in dark blood, Becky barked in triumph.

As if in answer, a horn echoed to the west. Another blared further south.

Pond and Edmund exchanged worried glances.

They’re almost here, they said in unison.

Pond lifted Edmund to his feet.

If you give me a few pointers, I can try to swim. I’ll have to do away with my pack … and my sword … and probably my boots as well …

They’ll be expecting us to go south along the river in order to reach the closest human settlements. They’ll try to cut us off.

Have an idea? Pond asked.

Yeah, it might buy us some time.

Or get you killed …

Edmund picked Becky up as she licked the side of his face, her tail thumping against his stomach. This way. Hurry!

Staggering as fast as they could manage, they followed the river southward toward the sound of the second horn, leaving footprints in the mud. Then Edmund waded into the cold water, signaling for Pond to follow his example.

Now head the other direction, he said. Quick! Make sure you stick to the water. I don’t want to leave any scent or tracks.

As the waxing moon sank behind the tree-lined ridges flanking the narrow valley, Edmund and Pond sloshed northward, careful to keep their feet in the rushing river. A mile or so to the south, near where the troll’s body lay, harsh voices cried out. The goblins had found their trail again.

Do you think they’ll come this way? Pond asked, toiling through the surging knee-high water.

Edmund stroked Becky’s head, the puppy now fast asleep in his arms like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. She seemed to be purring.

Maybe, he said.

They pushed upriver.

You know, Pond went on, perhaps trying to swim would be a good idea. I’m a quick learner!

You’ll drown. The river’s too swift.

So what are we going to do? Keep heading north? Isn’t that where the Undead King’s tower is?

We’re going to hide where they’d least expect it.

You’d better hope Kravel and Gurding fall for this. They aren’t as stupid as you told that troll.

They’ll think we swam downriver to reach one of the farms or logging camps. They wouldn’t dream we’d head closer to their mountains.

What if you’re wrong?

Then we’ll be dead by morning.

They waded through the icy water, fighting against the swirling currents that urged their tired legs back the way they had come. Pond tripped and fell headlong into the river with a splash that echoed through the forested cliffs. Grabbing his waterlogged pack, Edmund pulled him, spitting and sputtering, to his feet.

You okay? he asked.

Yeah, Pond said, coughing. But I … I don’t think I can go on much longer. I need … I need to rest. We haven’t slept, really slept, in … in ages.

We’re almost there. We can rest a bit, or die fighting.

Let’s hope it’s the first. I don’t think I have the energy to die right now.

Over the thundering river, faint shouts called from the south. A horn blew. It was much closer than before.

Edmund tried to hasten his pace but couldn’t. He was so exhausted he was barely able to force his feet through the opposing current.

Where’re we going? Pond asked, stumbling again.

There. Edmund pointed to a rock outcropping high above the valley to their left. Just beyond it, a cave could be seen in the darkness, the same cave in which he had hidden during a thunderstorm two years earlier. It’s the troll’s lair.

Troll’s lair? Pond repeated doubtfully.

If you were the goblins, would you waste time looking for us in a troll’s lair?

Good point.

Plus, it’s out of view. Edmund made for the bank. And the ledge in front of the cave is very defendable … just in case I’m wrong about them looking for us there.

Staggering out of the river, they started climbing the ridge.

After hauling themselves onto the stone ledge high above the valley floor, Edmund and Pond collapsed. Before them gaped the entrance to the troll’s lair, the stench of death billowing out to greet them. Becky, now wide awake and ready for battle, pranced in a circle, yipping with excitement.

I think you’re right, Pond said, breathing hard. This time … this time we’re going to give them the slip. The goblins will never think about looking for us way up here. Plus, if this reek doesn’t cover our scent, nothing will.

Edmund rubbed his quivering arms. The climb up the nearly perpendicular slope had been arduous, especially with a heavy pack and Becky on his shoulder. If the goblins came, he wouldn’t have the strength to swing a sword.

Maybe. But I’m afraid that Kravel and Gurding may have been here recently. Right … right before you killed him with your stone, the, the, the troll … the troll said something about talking to them. That, and something about a reward for our capture.

"Our capture?" Pond asked.

Yeah. Apparently they’re offering a thousand gold pieces for me. And two thousand for you.

Pond brightened. Really?

No. I’m … I’m sorry. He didn’t say anything about you or … or how much the reward was.

Oh. Pond’s smile faded. I thought I might have become infamous, given that I stabbed their king and all.

With an effort, Edmund pushed himself to his feet. He wiped the drying mud from his hands. I don’t know about infamous, but you’re a hero in my book, should I ever get to write it.

Becky barked.

What are we going to do with the little monster here? Pond watched Becky paw Edmund’s leg. She’s going to draw attention to us.

She’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t see any of the goblins.

If she does, will you rescue her again? She’s going to get you killed one of these days.

Far to the south, black shapes swarmed into the valley.

Come on. Edmund stumbled toward the entrance to the troll’s lair. We have to get out of sight.

Hoisting his drenched pack higher onto his shoulders, Pond followed.

What if the troll didn’t live alone? he asked.

Trolls are solitary creatures. Besides, most were killed off in the Great Troll Hunts. The one we ran into must have been one of the last … hopefully.

Taking care not to fall from the ridge, they crept to the mouth of the cave.

Something glittered at their feet.

Thousands of coins cast about the ledge sparkled in the moonlight.

Look at this! Pond began sweeping them up by the handful. We’re rich!

Leave them. Edmund hobbled into the tunnel. It’s bait to lure unsuspecting travelers inside. Besides, they’re mostly copper and bronze.

Shame. The money would come in handy. Imagine what we could buy if they were all gold!

First we’ll need to survive long enough to get to civilization. Come on. Edmund waved for Pond to follow him. Get out of view.

Blindly they staggered deeper and deeper into the heart of the hill, the passage twisting this way and that. Damp darkness and the putrid stench of decaying meat enveloped them. Something that might have been cobwebs brushed against their faces like searching fingers.

Up ahead, water was dripping.

Becky snarled.

What is it, girl? Edmund asked.

She shot forward, kicking up a spray of coins.

Somewhere in the blackness, there was a rush of movement.

Becky! Edmund called out in hoarse whisper.

Squeals echoed around them.

Pond, give me the lantern!

We don’t have much oil—

Give it to me!

Pond thrust the lantern into Edmund’s hands.

Fumbling for the wick, Edmund cast his fire spell.

"Fyre av nå!"

A blue spark flashed.

He turned up the flame.

In front of them, the crudely hewn walls of the tunnel opened into a wide cavern. Through the wavering shadows, Becky darted here and there, chasing shrieking rats with bald tails and bright pink eyes. Hundreds of them skittered frantically into any hole or crevice they could find.

A scrawny rat with a lame front leg leapt for a crack between two boulders but was blocked by others fighting their way to safety.

Becky pounced on it.

The rat shrieked.

There was a crunch as the rat’s brown coat exploded red. It went limp, mouth hanging open, beady eyes gazing into oblivion as Becky shook it like an old shoe. Its squeaking companions vanished from sight. Then everything was utterly silent, save for the steady plink-plink-plink of water dripping from dirty tree roots hanging from the ceiling.

Skin crawling, Edmund shuddered. God, how I hate vermin.

Becky dropped the furry corpse at his feet, her tail wagging.

Good girl, he told her.

Damn. Pond let his pack fall to the damp ground. I was rooting for the rat.

He sat against a rock, took off a boot, and massaged his swollen foot.

Finally, a moment’s peace! He sighed. Do you think they’ll find us in here?

A drop of water plunked the top of the lantern, making it hiss.

Surveying the cavern, Edmund swept light across yellowing bones piled in the corner. Most were from animals—deer, moose, the occasional bear—but some were from humans, their grey skulls appearing to laugh at them through the gloom.

I don’t know, Edmund said. But we can’t run anymore, and there doesn’t appear to be another exit.

So we’re trapped in here.

Trapped …

Pond put his boot back on and untied the frayed blanket they used for a bedroll. Do you want to take the first watch, or shall I?

Reviews for Betrayal in the Highlands

[alissa1-7 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The story develops further in this book, and it is even more Edmund-centered, so the reader follows the events like thru the lens of Edmund's behaviour and feelings. The writing style is always nice and the pace more evenly-distributed than the first book.I enjoyed this much, and all the loose strings point to the third installment of the trilogy, leaning towards the grand finale. So, now out with the 3rd book, I want to read it!!

[lostinalibrary · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is the second book in Robert Evert’s epic fantasy series, The Riddle in Stone and it pretty much picks up where the first book left off. Edmund, the middleaged stuttering hero, is on the run from the goblins with his pal from the pits, Pond and Becky, the rambunctious puppy. The Undead King is determined to recapture Edmund to retrieve the secret he holds, a secret which could spell the end for the entire human race. While trying to evade their pursuers, they encounter a troll and, almost by accident, they kill it. With the discovery of its treasure, they are able to afford a place to hide out for a bit and think.But their period of rest is quickly interrupted. They learn that Noob, now married to Molly, has been telling tales about Edmund’s magical powers despite his past promise to keep the secret. This could put not only Edmund but his old village and his friends in danger. So, once again, they must set out on a new journey and hope they will be in time to stop the goblins from destroying everything and everyone Edmund loves.I enjoyed this sequel but it doesn't have the same sense of adventure or danger as the first. Like many middle books in a series, it seems more like a set-up for the final chapter rather than a stand-alone. Much of the tale is taken up with Ed and Pond hiding from the goblins, making plans, and ruminating about possible outcomes to said plans. Not to say there wasn’t any action, just that periods of action seemed to be immediately followed by long periods of inaction. And, since it is a middle book, it should come as no surprise that it ends on a cliffhanger.Fortunately, the likablility of the characters makes up for the lack of adventure. Edmund is as likable as ever and, if he still has his stutter and sense of self-doubt, he has grown a bit in terms of his confidence. Pond makes a pretty good sidekick, loyal to a fault and never willing to back down where Edmund’s wellbeing is concerned and Becky is a whole lot of fun. A new character, Fatty Moron, a gentle giant with a heart to match the size of his body was also a nice addition to the crew althoughI did think he deserved a name change. Like the first book, Betrayal in the Highlands is reminiscent of the early days of modern fantasy with its ‘everyman’ hero and its emphasis on outsmarting the bad guys whenever possible rather than on violence for the sake of violence. If it isn’t as wild a ride as the first book, it is certainly a fun one and I am definitely looking forward to the next installment in the series.