Norelven Uu Foothills and Ingress

Lontel stared miserably at the gray sky from the slight overhang that protected Davlena and him from the drizzling rain. He looked back at Davlena. "No," she said grouchily, "this is not one of Oberon’s storms. And no, he is not reaching for me with one of his spells. This is just a damned cold rain that won’t quit. Nature, too, makes them, you know." Lontel grunted and slid back against the cold wall. Davlena huddled next to him and they piled the limbs and leaves Lontel had gathered over their shivering bodies to retain what heat they could. They eventually warmed under their soggy covering and were able to sleep.

The next morning nothing had changed. The sky was still an ugly gray. The jagged peaks of Norelven Uu still towered over them to the north. To the west, the way they were traveling, the foothills rolled on for an eternity covered by dwarfed trees and thorny brush that had shredded Davlena’s pants and scraped uncountable gouges into Lontel’s legs. The only food to be found was old berries and an occasional mouse Lontel had to eat raw. Davlena would nibble the berries, but declined any mouse.

Sullenly the two left their marginal shelter and started through the cold drizzle. Each wore a cloak made of laced spruce limbs that retained a little heat and afforded some protection from the wet. They marched almost the entire day without stopping. When they did stop, it was only momentarily because one or the other soon chilled. By the end of the day, Lontel was at the end of his rope, and he could tell by the way Davlena stumbled along that she was, also.

As the gray sky darkened, Lontel began looking for some sort of shelter. He saw a glow coming from a hill not too far north of them. He rubbed his eyes wondering if he was hallucinating.

"Do you see that light?" he asked pointing at the hill. Davlena stared numbly in the direction Lontel indicated.

"I… I certainly do," she stammered.

"Come on," Lontel said starting for it at a stumbling trot. Davlena trudged along behind him. Soon they were lying on the cold knoll of a grassy hill staring up at a cave. Smoke crept out the roof and slithered skyward. Lontel could see at least three figures within. One of them came out and looked around.

"Trolls," Davlena gasped. Lontel bit off a curse. He should have known better than to expect anyone friendly in the forsaken land. He took Wizbane and its scabbard from his belt. He gave them to Davlena. She looked at him questioningly.

"I can’t sneak around with it banging against my leg. I’ll just have to trust to this," he said slapping his dirk. Davlena started to protest, but before she could Lontel had slipped away.

He crept towards the cave until he could see inside. Davlena had been right. The occupants were trolls. They had the same ears and size of the one he had killed while in the meadow country. There were five. Two were nearly as big as the one he had killed. Another was only slightly smaller. It was female Lontel assumed since it had huge breasts with a baby latched onto one of them. The fifth was only about half the size of the others, a son or daughter no doubt.

Lontel fought back a deep chill as he waited long into the night. When he had just about given up, the last troll walked to the back of the cave and disappeared. The fire died down. Lontel crawled forward until he could hear the breathing of the creatures. One or two of them seemed to be whispering. Again Lontel waited. The chill night seeped through him. He began shaking uncontrollably. Still he waited.

"Go to sleep!" he screamed silently. Another hour crept by, then another. Finally he could hear only even breathing and snoring. Shivering, he eased forward.

A rank odor met him at the entrance and he gagged. Something growled, and he froze. As he waited, his eyes adjusted to the dim glow cast by the dying embers of the fire. The fire was in the center forward part of the cave. On either side of it slept two of the trolls. Towards the rear of the cave were two barely discernable heaps of animal hides. Two more beds he guessed. He inched forward and froze again at another growl. He saw no movement.

He slid into the cave hoping his shivering wasn’t as loud as it sounded to him. As he felt the warmth of the fire’s remains, it got worse. He stopped and waited for the chill to run its course. Again he crawled forward. He went to a stack of fur and found coats. He saw what looked like white bowls. To get to the bowls he would have to go by the trolls sleeping near the fire. He would have to stand.

Slowly he did so. He knees popped. He froze and waited. Sweat beaded his brow. One of the trolls rolled to its side and stared directly at him. Fear boiled up in Lontel as he saw a smile spread across its face. Fighting back the urges to flee, he remained still. The eyes never blinked. Soon drool dribbled from the slightly parted lips. The perspiration from his brow dripped into Lontel’s eyes. Slowly he wiped his forehead and started forward. The eyes didn’t follow him but stared ahead unseeing.

He eased by the sleeper and tiptoed to the bowls. A startled gasp escaped him when he saw the bowls were really tops of skulls. With a trembling hand he picked up one and made his way back to the fire. He dipped out several hot coals and covered them with ash. All he had to do was get two coats and get out.

Just as he started by the open-eyed troll, the baby cried from the back. Lontel stopped in mid-stride as the troll next to his foot rolled over and growled something. An answer came from the back. He heard the crying baby start sucking. The troll at his foot sniffed the air, grunted and rolled back over. Lontel watched in horror as a droplet of sweat fell from his nose to the face of the troll. It grumbled and slid deeper into its covers.

Lontel waited until he again heard the steady breathing of the troll before he crept to the coats. He grabbed the top two and quickly exited the cave. When he was fifty yards from the cave he sprinted into the night as fast as his legs would carry him. The long coats entangled his legs and he fell scattering his precious coals. Burning his fingers, he gathered up those he could see and strode away from the cave at a brisk walk.

He could see nothing in the pitch-black night. He shuffled along calling softly for Davlena. Something touched his shoulder, and he jumped yelping.

"Phew," Davlena snorted. "What did you steal, their feces?"

"No," Lontel retorted defensively. "I got two coats. Here, ignore the smell and put one on." He put down his bowl and helped her into the coat. It swallowed her slight frame.

"I think it could use some trimming," she laughed. She took Lontel’s dirk and trimmed it so it didn’t drag the ground. Lontel put his on and she trimmed it. She cut scarves for their heads out of the trimmings.

"Why did you steal a bowl of ash?" she asked.

Lontel dug through the cold ash and sighed. "I was stealing a means to make a fire, but I got so scared that when I finally got out of the cave I started running. I tripped and spilled the coals. I gathered what I could, but they have gone out," he said dejectedly.

"Don’t worry, you did most excellently, master thief," she said kissing him on the cheek. Lontel smiled. He had done well. He gad done as well as any master thief could have.

Grabbing his hand Davlena said, "I can see in this darkness much better than you. I doubt if either of us could sleep this close to those trolls. Besides, I need to warm this tent you have most graciously procured for me."

They walked through the night with Lontel stumbling after Davlena. By noon the next day they were too tired to go farther. They found a depression on the lee side of a hill and squirmed into it. Soon both of them were asleep. They awoke the next morning.

Lontel stretched and climbed to the top of their hill. The land was even more barren than before. The ground contained outcroppings of rock everywhere, and the only plants were the thorn bushes and mosses. Even the thorn bushes seemed to find the land inhospitable as they grew only sparsely. Much to the west, though, the hills looked greener.

Maybe things were improving. He had stolen these coats that were not only warm, they were waterproof. If he and Davlena could make through this barren country, they would probably find food in the greener hills ahead of them. Smiling, he looked at the awesome mountains towering above everything. Something ducked behind a hilltop not too far from them.

"Let’s get moving," he said.

Davlena yawned. "What’s the matter?"

"I saw something." That was enough for Davlena. She bounced to her feet, and they started for the green hills. All day they kept seeing things peek at them then disappear. The creatures were too fast to get a good look at them. They alternated taking naps that afternoon and walked through the night with Davlena leading Lontel by the hand. Davlena told Lontel their company was still with them. The next morning, they again alternated napping then continued walking.

By mid-afternoon, they reached beginning of a different type of country. The sparse thorn bushes and moss gave way to small trees that grew in size the farther they advanced into the new forest. Lontel found an apple tree and picked as many as he could carry.

Davlena ate two and was content. The forest began to remind Lontel of Sprite Forest. He kept expecting to hear the childish giggle of the small, winged people. When night fell, they were well within a forest of giant spruce and birch. Man and elf were exhausted, but they walked on. Neither of them could shake the feeling they were still being followed. Davlena found a well-traveled path and led Lontel down it.

Suddenly she stopped. "There is a hut ahead with smoke coming out of the chimney," she said. "There’s movement around…" A gurgling cry cut her off.

"Goblins!" Lontel shouted as he whipped out Wizbane. Green images appeared all around him. He saw some of the horrid creatures were pulling something from the cabin. He and Davlena were surrounded with no protection. Their only chance was the house.

"Run for the house!" he yelled and led the way. A small goblin with a club barred his way. Wizbane sheered through it in a shower of blood. Lontel could hear the flap of feet racing after them. The goblins leaving the house dropped their load to meet him. Sparks flew as Wizbane crashed through the shield of one. It squealed as the sword severed its arm. Lontel hacked away part of another’s head and burst into the house.

It lay in ruins. Behind him Davlena was struggling with a body. Two large goblins were almost on her when Lontel sprang between them. He caught the axe of one with Wizbane. A huge chunk of metal flew from the axe. The other threw its club. Lontel dodged it, but it glanced off Davlena’s head. She sighed and slumped to the ground. The goblins retreated.

Lontel wasted no time in dragging Davlena into the house. He then dragged in the body she had been trying to get into the house. He shut the door and barred it. The one window was already barred. In the gloom he found a lamp that hadn’t been overturned in the sack of the house and lit it with hot ember from the fireplace.

He righted a cot and laid Davlena in it. Her head had a nasty knot on it, but her breathing was regular. He then studied the other body. She was definitely a female. She looked human, but she was shorter and stockier than most with more pronounced features. She had a bulbous nose, large thick ears, and knotty, wrinkled hands. Her hair was a mixture of gray and brown. She had a bloody knot on her head where she had also received a hard blow but much to Lontel’s surprise she still lived.

Lontel heard something happening on the roof. He smelled oil fumes filling the room. He quickly doused the small lamp and the embers remaining in the fireplace. He put the woman and Davlena on the floor, covering them with the cot’s mattress. Gagging, he then lay down on the floor where the air was cleaner. Nothing happened for several minutes, then Lontel smelled the vapors again. This time they would drop a torch and ignite the stuff, he thought miserably. He heard scuffling, some shouts, and then nothing.

"Open the door," a booming voice commanded. Lontel started to answer, but could think of nothing to say, so he just waited. The door began humming, then vibrating, then it blew apart. Splinters showered Lontel. Standing where the door had been was a huge man in golden robes like those worn by Oberon and Arlin. He snapped his fingers and the explosive vapors vanished. Another snap and the room was bathed in light. Lontel got up off the floor. He could feel the strange power of Wizbane surging through him. The newcomer stared at him.

"I couldn’t believe it when I heard Arlin had lost that damned sword to a mere human," the man said. "I see that it is true." He started to enter the room, but Lontel barred his way. The other’s eyes sparked furiously.

"Don’t be impudent, mortal. You can treat Oberon the Yellow or Arlin the Lavender as you wish perhaps, but you will show Satar the Gold proper deference or I will squash you like the bug you are." Lontel didn’t move. Wizbane glowed more intensely than ever. The wizard didn’t move further.

The two stood facing each other for minutes. Suddenly Satar raised his hand, but before he could utter anything, Wizbane leaped with Lontel’s arm and severed the hand. Blood spurt from the stump only once, then Satar waved his remaining hand over it, and the bleeding stopped. Lontel marveled that the wizard didn’t utter a sound. Instead, he picked up the severed hand, turned on his heel and walked quietly from the house. In his place rushed scores of goblins.

Lontel ripped through the first wave frantically as they poured through the door. One slipped under his sword and crunched down on his leg with its massive jaws. Screaming in pain, Lontel drove his dirk through the beast’s temple. It fell to the floor a quivering, jerking mass. More of them scrambled over the dead bodies of their comrades. Feet splashed in the pools of blood forming on the floor. Lontel’s arm felt like lead. Why didn’t Wizbane give him strength now?! As he fought on doggedly, he heard a ruckus outside. The wave of attacking goblins wavered then broke.

Over the bodies of the dead climbed a short, stout man carrying a battle-axe. "We be facing an ogre in here, lads," he yelled as he attacked. Lontel caught the axe in mid-swing. The weapon split in half as Wizbane cleft through it. The startled man retreated. Three others clambered in behind him. He waved them back.

"The beast has a magical sword, lads," he said. "Look here what it did to me axe." He showed them the neatly split axe. The others eyed Lontel worriedly.

"Well, Tubar, we can’t just let him have Estel now can we?" the youngest looking said.

"No, boy, we can’t, but we can’t all go getting killed trying to save her either, now, can we?" The other two voiced their agreement. While they stood there, Lontel saw that other short men had gathered outside and were peering in.

"May I say something?" Lontel asked.

"Speak your piece, ogre. We haven’t yet decided how to do you in," Tubar said.

"I am no ogre," Lontel began. "I am a man." A hushed silence fell over the others. "This is a troll coat I am wearing. I stole it from a troll family several days to the east of here. I am escorting, Davlena, the elf woman there, to…"

"Hold on now one minute," Tubar interrupted. "You say you are a man?"

"I am."

"We heard that all men had been killed in the Great War. And if they haven’t, then those that survive are our sworn enemies. Right lads?" A roar of agreement went up behind him.

"Are elves your enemies, too?" Lontel asked.

"No, they are our friends; although, it has been more than my lifetime since we last saw one. The Passage Road is impassable."

"Well, I am escorting Davlena, who is an elven princess from Elysium to Shangri-La so the Passage of Life Ritual may be consummated again." Lontel studied the faces of the men. He couldn’t tell if they believed him or not. It was apparent they had heard of the ritual before. He needed to offer them some gesture of good faith. "Take your woman out of here. I will not harm the man who moves her so long as he takes no action against me."

"We are dwarves, not men," the youngest one spat. Everyone, including Lontel sighed at the brashness of the youngster. He blushed and rushed by Lontel and soon had the woman cradled in his arms at the door.

"Why are you risking your life for an elf? I thought you men hated elves," Tubar said.

Lontel smiled. "I have my reasons. I am beginning to think they aren’t really adequate anymore, but I shall persist. As for hating them, why should I? I owe my ancestors no allegiance for the Great War. It almost destroyed my race and has made me an outcast among others. Davlena has been very kind to me, so I can do no more than repay the favor."

Tubar thought on the words for a moment, cast his weapon aside and came forward with his hand outstretched. Lontel hesitated. All Tubar had to do was pin him momentarily and the others could cut him to ribbons. Still, he needed all of the friends he could get right now. Also, these folks could probably tell him something of the Passage Road other than it wasn’t passable.

Lontel sheathed Wizbane and took the proffered hand. Tubar’s grip nearly crushed his. The dwarf laughed. "You are definitely no ogre." He released Lontel’s smashed hand. "Let us return to Ingress, lads. There is no telling how many of those monstrous goblins are about." Lontel started to get Davlena, but saw two dwarves had her on a makeshift stretcher.

Two hours later the troupe marched through the defensive walls surrounding Ingress. Lontel limped badly on his bitten leg. He stumbled awkwardly as they started up a flight of stairs. Only Tubar’s quick assistance kept him from falling. At the top, two guards barred the way.

"Tubar to see her majesty," Tubar said. One of the guards called it inside. A response came, and they were admitted.

"I would leave that smelly coat," Tubar said. Reluctantly Lontel took it off. One of the stretcher-bearers gagged at the sight of Lontel’s bloodstained, swollen leg. "What happened?" Tubar demanded.

"A goblin bit me again," Lontel sighed.

"Come along. We must let the queen see this. She is the only one who can possibly save you now." Tubar literally dragged Lontel through the gray stone hallways to a perfectly wrought iron door.

"Enter, Tubar," a high feminine voice called from within before they could announce themselves. Tubar shoved open the door and led the motley procession into the white marble room containing a beautiful silver throne covered by scarlet cloths. In it sat a woman who looked much like the woman Lontel had saved at the stone house in the forest. She wore a flowing scarlet dress and cloak that followed her as she stepped down to meet them.

"What strays have you brought me this time, Tubar?" she asked looking at the nearly naked Lontel and his puffy, dirty leg.

"Your majesty, I have with me Davlena, Elven Princess of Elysium, and her guard, Lontel. He has just received a goblin bite in a battle to save Estel. As you can see, the poison has already started working." The queen poked Lontel’s leg, and he winced at the pain. Oh, how he hated goblin! She then studied Davlena who was just rousing from the blow to her head.

"If you gentlemen would please turn away," the queen ordered as she opened Davlena’s coat and began pulling down her pants. All of the men blushed crimson and turned their heads. The queen ahemmed and said, "You truly do have an elf here, Tubar. My congratulations." She returned to Lontel after covering Davlena. She studied him closely.

"If history serves me correctly, you are a man."

"I am, your majesty," Lontel answered blushing under her scrutiny of his every part. She sighed and looked at Tubar.

"Please tell me, Keeper of the Passage, why you brought a man into this realm?"

Tubar cleared his throat. "Lontel allowed us to get Estel from him when he could easily have killed her. He then offered me his hand in good faith after denouncing any allegiance to the beliefs held by his ancestors who fought against us in the Great War."

"Is this true?" she asked Lontel.

"It is, your majesty. I might also add that I have been Davlena’s guardian since she was captured and taken to the city of Sepultha." At the mention of the city, the queen’s eyebrows raised considerably.

"Isn’t that in the southern part of the Central Plains?"

"It is."

"Why are you aiding an elf?"

"Personal reasons."

"I see. Do you know where she is going?"

"We are trying to get to Shangri-La. She is going to participate in the Passage of Life there."

The queen smiled. "So, Tubar, you have brought into our city perhaps its salvation, for if the Passage of Life isn’t completed soon, we will all fall to Satar." Lontel flinched at the mention of this new wizard. The queen saw the change in his expression. "Do you know anything of Satar? We have reports that he is on the prowl. Some say he has even been seen with another."

Lontel’s leg ached terribly. He wiped his brow and said, "I have met him. He was at the forest house where Tubar found us. He came to kill me and take Wizbane. Instead, I lopped off his hand. He left me to the goblins then."

"You have Wizard’s Bane?" the queen asked excitedly. Lontel pulled the green sword from its scabbard. The dwarf queen eyed it reverently. Lontel offered it to her, but she declined. "Do you know what power you have in your hand?" Lontel shook his head. The only power he knew of at the moment was the goblin’s poison coursing through his body. This was much worse than the first’s had been.

"Wizard’s Bane is the creation of the Dead East. It arrived here sometime in the forgotten past shortly after the wizards. Some say that Wilfred the White journeyed to the Dead East and found it. All that is known is that he used it to defeat Demius the Black at Zama. Even with Wizard’s Bane, Wilfred was mortally wounded. He died shortly after the battle, and no one has seen the sword since then.

"After the Battle of Zama, the world had centuries of peace and prosperity, but then came the Time of Introspection. Some say wizards inspired it. Only they know the answer to that question. The Time of Introspection ended with the Great War. It ended when we thought we had annihilated man, but I can see now that we did not, much to our good fortune." Lontel started to thank her for the complement, but the pain finally overcame him and he dropped unconscious.

Lontel sat astride a mighty, white stallion. It snorted fire and pawed the earth. Before him, astride a black lizard the size of a large horse was a figure dressed in impenetrable black. The eyes were only darker recesses of black. Lontel reached for Wizbane with his left arm, but saw that it was gone. He remembered. He had lost it when he fought the city spirit, the raving spirits of an entire city combined, for the glowing green sword, the one he had seen in his dream.

The black figure spoke, and the world froze as the words crackled across it. "Wilfred the White, now Wilfred Onearm. You have found your sacred sword. Forged by Nature herself, you say. Hah! It will avail you nothing. I, Demius the Black, shall rip it from your grasp and shred you with it." Lontel/Wilfred felt the strange sword surge with power. A mighty bolt of black shot from Demius’ hand. The green sword flashed, and the bolt shattered into brilliant stars, releasing the colors it had robbed.

Demius urged his hissing mount forward. It reared onto its hind legs and charged. The white steed whinnied and attacked. The black wizard’s mace crashed into the valiant horse’s head. It fell, and Lontel dove off. The green sword caught the mace in an explosion of force. The earth shook, and all mortals cowered. Lontel thrust into the blackness of the lizard. Bright crimson gushed from the wound and drenched him. The acid blood burnt, but it vanished with a simple word he uttered.

Demius dismounted from his crumpled mount. The two wizards circled each other. Lontel slashed. The black mace countered and clipped his head. He fell and barely caught the mace flashing down at him. He suddenly released the pressure and thrust up. Demius roared as the green sword impaled him. The black wizard pulled a black stalactite from his robe and thrust it into the leg of Wilfred. He then slumped. Wilfred pushed the smoking wizard from him and fell from the clouds to earth. The fire in his wound burned. Nothing could save him he knew. He had to get the sword to a safe place, someplace it could wait until it again was needed to combat that which gave it its power.

Something cool touched Lontel’s forehead. He opened his eyes and saw Davlena holding a wet cloth to his head. He smiled up at her. She returned it.

"Surely we aren’t back in Sepultha," Lontel said wistfully.

She laughed. "No, we are in Ingress. You have had yet another bout with goblin poison. When are you going to learn not to let them bite you?"

It was Lontel’s turn to laugh. "What day is it?" he asked.

"It is the day before we continue our journey. By the way, how did you know I was an elven princess?"

Lontel shrugged. "When I told Tubar that, I wanted to make it sound like we were important people. Since I am only a thief, I thought it best to tell him that you were a princess. After all, you never told me you weren’t, and surely Elysium would send no one less to an event as important as your Passage of Life."

"Very brilliant deduction," Davlena laughed. They spent the rest of the day getting fitted for clothes to wear on the trip. Lontel also learned that Tubar was going with them. The queen told Lontel that it was Tubar’s commitment as the Keeper of the passage to go and do all in his power to see that they reached Shangri-La safely. Tubar didn’t object, so Lontel certainly didn’t. He could think of nothing better than to have more company. He would have gladly let the entire populace go with them.

The next day Lontel accepted the garb given to him by a maid. He frowned as he spread his new clothes on the bed. White?! Everything was white. He didn’t like that at all. It reminded him too much of his dream that still haunted his thoughts for some inexplicable reason. He certainly didn’t want to complain, so reluctantly he donned the garments and followed the waiting page to the throne room.

Tubar and Davlena waited for him outside the room. They, too, were dressed in white. Together the three went before the queen. She smiled approvingly at them. "I had the tailors us all white so when you reach the pass, you will better blend with the surroundings. No doubt you have seen the fresh snow falling. My seer has told me more will be coming, so soon even our land will be covered by winter’s white blanket.

"Also, I had a dream. I dreamed that a mighty battle took place at Midpost. I could see nothing, but it compelled me to dress you in white." Lontel shuddered inwardly. All of these dreams were doing his nerves no good. He barely heard any more of the queen’s farewell speech. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his companions bowing. Quickly he did the same and followed them out of the door. Soon they were at Ingress’ gate. Tubar kissed his wife and children goodbye and waved to the small crowd that had come to wish them well.

When they were out of sight of the city, Tubar stopped them. "Put on the clothes I had packed. It is very true what the queen said about the snow, but right now we will be as easy to see as snow hares in the fall. We’ll don our whites when we reach the snowline. If all goes well, that should be in two day." Lontel needed no encouragement. Quickly he shed his cursed white clothes and put on the mottled green ones he found in his pack.