Arlin and Wizbane

"Lontel, drink. Your body needs water." Lontel looked up. Davlena was holding a bowl of water up to his lips. He took it from her and drank it greedily. She smiled and returned to the tiller after pushing them off the bank.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"We are two days from the river fork," she answered. "Your fever broke last night. The poison from the goblin bite was more potent than I thought. My healing poultice lacked a few herbs that would have made it act faster, but apparently it was strong enough."

Lontel sat up. He felt like he had been clubbed everywhere. Every joint ached, and he felt as weak as a newborn. Still, he was alive, and that is what counted most. He looked at the river. The current had certainly picked up speed. He could even see a few standing waves ahead of them.

"The river is certainly flowing fast," he said.

"The faster the better," Davlena laughed. "It will carry us away from Oberon that much quicker." Lontel felt the dory rise and fall as it rode over a wave. He looked ahead again. Rapids!

"We’re heading into rapids," he said as calmly as he could manage. Davlena’s smile tightened.

"Could you take the tiller," she said. "I have never been through rapids." Lontel crawled back to her and took control of their small craft. He knew he wouldn’t do much good in his weakened condition, but he set his jaw and tried to appear brave. Davlena smiled at him and moved forward. He steered them around a boulder that suddenly loomed in front of them. Two others took its place. Straining against the tiller he got them through the slot made by the two mammoth rocks.

More boulders appeared, and the speed of the current increased dramatically. "Lontel!" Davlena screamed as the dory crunched sickeningly into a nearly submerged rock. Both flew out of the dory as it shuddered to a stop then split into several pieces and that were swept on.

Lontel gasped for air when he broke the surface of the water. He started fighting the current to reach the near bank, but knew almost immediately it was useless. As the rushing water swept him on, he concentrated on keeping his head above the water. He saw Davlena bobbing in the current ahead of him. Worrying about her, he was caught by surprise by an undertow that sucked him under before he could catch a breath.

His lungs quickly lost what little air they had. His brain reeling, his limbs tiring, Lontel thrashed through the water and reached air just as the world began turning an ugly gray. He gasped in air and water coughing violently as the current yanked him under again. Again he fought to the surface. He could no longer look for Davlena. His world was a blur of water spray, gagging breaths, and tortured limbs. He didn’t have time to wonder if he should just give up.

Suddenly the world dropped away, and Lontel tumbled into the air as he cascaded over a waterfall. He heard himself screaming, but remembered nothing else until he dragged his exhausted body the rest of the way out of the water onto the sandy beach surrounding the calm pool at the foot of the falls. He started to sit up, to begin a search for Davlena, but first he had to rest just for a moment.

Strained breathing woke Lontel. Standing over him was a tree turned man. The trunk was the body and head. Its upper limbs were its hair. Two lower limbs were arms, and instead of roots it had two spindly legs. It effortlessly picked up Lontel in one arm and began walking. Lontel felt its hard, leathery skin rub against him as it carried him.

Lontel knew he should be scared and should try to escape, but he just didn’t have the energy. Besides, fate had cast him into the unknown too many times. This time he wasn’t going to cower or cry. No, this time he was going to laugh in fate’s face. He started to but his laugh turned into a hacking cough and fit of sneezing.

"Have you seen an elf?" Lontel asked as he bobbed up and down in his captor’s arm.

"Grud," the tree man answered.

"Could you repeat that?" Lontel asked.

"Grud."

"That’s what I thought you said," Lontel said smiling and was quiet. He studied the countryside as best he could from his position. To the south as he reckoned was the continuation of the river. The opposite bank turned up sharply and became a steep, sheer-faced cliff. To the north were more plains dotted with large, fully leafed trees. The grass appeared shorter than that of the plains Davlena and he had been traveling through.

Lontel heard chattering and hooting. He craned his head around and saw they were approaching a huge tree. In it and around it scurried large, gray and brown animals. They were covered by fur except for their faces that had elongated snouts similar to a dog’s. Their fang shaped teeth reminded Lontel of goblins. He had seen monkeys in Sepultha, but these were much fiercer looking.

The tree man walked for the tree, and the creatures there became very excited. Lontel’s eyes widened with fear. This thing was going to feed him to those monsters. He began struggling violently. The pressure around his middle increased. He pounded on the tree man. It cooed like and seemed to squirm with pleasure. A voice stopped Lontel.

"Grud, put the gentleman down. I don’t think he cares to be carried any longer." The tree man dropped Lontel heavily onto the ground. Panting from his exertion, Lontel stood stiffly rubbing his back end, which had broken his fall. Smiling at him congenially was an old man wearing flowing lavender robe. On his head sat a high, conical hat the same color as his robe and decorated with gold astrological symbols. Lontel smiled at the sight.

"How do you do? My name is Arlin. What is yours?" the old man asked in his high voice, stroking his long, white beard.

"Lontel."

"Excellent. Davlena will be so happy Grud found you. She was worried that in your weakened condition you might not have survived your journey down the rapids and waterfall. To appease her I sent Grud to find you. He has never failed to find whatever I send him for. Of course, he is sometimes gone for months, but…"

"Did you say Davlena?" Lontel interrupted.

"What? Oh, yes. I did say Davlena. Grud brought her in much earlier. It has been years, no decades; perhaps centuries since I last saw an elf. They certainly are a beautiful race. I have always held them in the highest regard. They…"

"May I see her?"

"Who?"

"Davlena."

"Oh, of course. Follow me." The old man led Lontel to the huge tree. He chanted a quick spell, and the tree opened. Warily Lontel followed him into it. The tree was large, but its trunk couldn’t hold very many people. Lontel’s jaw dropped when he stepped into it.

Before him was magnificent room. The walls were finely grained woods. Wall hangings depicting pastoral scenes with all kinds of creatures decorated all of them. Pillows of lavender were strewn about. A table of translucent lavender glass dominated the center of the room. Cuddled in several pillows was Davlena asleep.

She awoke when the tree closed behind Lontel. Seeing him, she jumped up and ran to him throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. Lontel hugged her back then stepped away from her to admire the silk blouse and pants she wore.

Arlin smiled. "I couldn’t find her a dress, but I don’t think the pants detract from her beauty. Of course, they don’t show her legs. Elves have such beautifully formed legs, slim yet with well defined. Davlena is on the thin side even for an elf, though. No doubt that is from not getting enough to eat. We will take care of that."

"Are you all right?" Davlena asked Lontel.
"Tired and hungry, but other than that I am fine," Lontel said and sneezed.

She felt his forehead. "You still seem to have a slight temperature…"

"Hungry are you?" Arlin interrupted. "Well, of course, you are. After going through all you have, even I would be hungry. Davlena, you are probably starving, too. I know you elves don’t eat much, but I have delicacies that will make your mouths drool. Besides, my cuisine is guaranteed to match even an elf’s finicky digestive tract. I remember once when I was in Shangri-La before the Troubled Times. I fixed such a feast that even the elves couldn’t digest all they ate. But would they stop eating? No they would not. They gorged themselves and then daintily regurgitated it so they could eat more. That was the only time I ever saw anyone puke daintily, but they did it.

"I’m rambling, aren’t I? Well, of course I am. Come along and we will eat, then I’ll show you to your rooms. You must tell me why you are here and where you are going. A human and an elf! Who would have thought I would have them for company? I certainly wouldn’t." Arlin led his guest through an ornately carved door into a huge dining hall. He snapped his fingers and the candles of a tremendous overhead chandelier lit. The wizard, human, and elf sat at one end of the long table and were soon served a complete banquet. Each course floated out of the kitchen and settled gently in front of them. As they ate, Arlin kept up a nonstop flow of conversation. He allowed them to interrupt very seldom to tell him of their adventures. When he heard Oberon’s name, he shook his head sadly.

"A rogue wizard if ever there was one. Why he wants to rule over the lives of people and make the lives of countless races miserable is beyond me. He should be content to study his magic as I am." Arlin scratched his beard. "I think perhaps it is the Troubled Times. Before them, I had visitors all of the time. This dining hall was always packed. Sometimes it would be all wizards as we exchanged gossip and small spells. Wizards never divulge their better spells, you know." He paused long enough for Davlena and Lontel to nod. "Other times it would be elves on their way to or from Shangri-La. I have even had a troll or two in here. They are such abominable guests that I can’t say I miss them, though. They are forever eating and complaining about the ogres."

"What are the Troubled Times?" Lontel asked when Arlin paused.

"You don’t know what the Troubled Times are?! Where have you been? Oh, well, of course, you humans don’t call this the Troubled Times. Only we wizards do." Arlin gulped down a long draught of wine. Davlena sighed and Lontel wished he hadn’t asked. Arlin was going into another long speech.

"The Troubled Times are now. They started after what you humans call the Great War. That it was, too. I remember seeing fields covered with dead bodies with men and elves and others standing on their fallen comrades fighting on. Sanity slipped everyone’s mind. Even I on occasion was afflicted with the madness.

"Armies marched upon the land shaking it to the earth’s very roots. None asked for quarter and none gave any. It was a great time to be a vulture. There would be thousands of them at a time so bloated with food none could fly. The armies fought until one thought it had completely destroyed the other. Imagine that! Each was trying to commit genocide against the other. And why?

"Man thought the elves and others had to be saved from their devilish religions that included magic. It was a grand crusade for them. The elves went to war for the same reason, only they thought man vile and evil for not being affected by magic. The world had to be purged of men because they were different. The lure of booty drew in the dwarves and others. Of course, that was a good time to exterminate the foul goblins who ate anything they could kill. In the end, I think the thirst to kill overrode even the ridiculous notions that started the war. That thirst wasn’t easily quenched.

"Now, you may wonder why this tragedy ever happened. Of course you do. It happened during a time of racial introspection. Trade among the different races slowed as each tried to learn more of its identity. Man, being the oldest, knew that somewhere in the long, almost forgotten past he had reigned supreme and there had been no magic. He felt it was in the best interests of all to return to those days. Others remembered those days differently. They remembered that man had almost destroyed the earth and only magic had saved it, or so they believed. Therefore, anything that didn’t respond to magic, man, had to be exterminated.

"All sides forgot about the wonderful centuries that everyone lived in relative peace and harmony. We wizards could have helped, but at the time we were engaged in a war of our own. Ours, of course, was only one of words. Some wished to tear the power away from all races. Oberon led that faction. They said we could and should rule the world as benevolent seers. They reasoned since we were the most logical and rational, we were the best equipped to handle the job. Others of us wanted only to continue to live in peace with our neighbors. We were chided as isolationists. As we fought, the Great War raged. After its end, everyone went his separate way. There wasn’t anything left to fight over." Arlin finished another glass of wine and stood.

"I’ll show you to your rooms. I hope you will forgive my ramblings. I have had only mice and roaches as guests for ages. They make good listeners, but they never respond."

They would never have the chance, Lontel thought smiling.

Arlin led his guests through a hall decorated by oddly beautiful paintings. "Of course, they never complain when I put them through some tests, either," he said. He left them by the doors leading into their rooms.

"What do you think he meant by that?" Lontel asked.

Davlena shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "I don’t know. I think he is just a slightly crazy old man who happens to be a wizard." She yawned and excused herself.

Lontel went into his room. Instead of the lavender that dominated the rest of the rooms, this one’s color scheme was gold. It had an ornately carved dresser and chair on one side. A large canopied bed dominated the rest of the room. There was a smaller door leading to a bathroom. It took Lontel several tries to properly use the fixtures, and after doing so crawled into the warm, soft bed and slept.

His previous adventures haunted his dreams. Also, he dreamed he kept awakening to find Arlin in the room chanting and throwing powders over him. When Lontel did wake, he looked about the bed but found nothing. He smiled at his suspicions. This trip was making him paranoid.

Davlena wasn’t in her room when he checked. Suspicion rose in Lontel’s mind. What if Arlin was actually in league with Oberon? Then he and Davlena were in peril. He was probably wrong, but he needed to find a weapon just in case he wasn’t.

Very quietly he sneaked out of Davlena’s room and made his way to the dining room. He heard laughter coming from the room and peeked around the corner. Davlena and Arlin were laughing at something. Lontel started to relax and join them, but the wizard’s movements stopped him.

Arlin gestured to a wall hanging, and when Davlena turned to look at it, the wizard dropped something into her drink. She took a long drink before Lontel could move. He stayed hidden, waiting for something to happen to her. Nothing did. Still, Lontel couldn’t shake the feeling something was amiss.

Better to be safe than sorry, he thought, and crept away to find a weapon. He had little idea what kind of weapon could be used against a wizard, but he bet one would bleed if stuck with a knife or sword. Also, he knew how to use them very well.

In his search, Lontel couldn’t help but marvel at the number of rooms Arlin had fit into the tree. True, the tree was huge on the outside, but without some kind of powerful magic it couldn’t have ever been hollowed out into such a large mansion. His admiration for the wizard only matched his growing frustration. Nowhere could he find a sword or even a small paring knife.

As he sat pouting over his failure to find any kind of weapon, Lontel heard footsteps approach. He ducked behind the cabinet he had been searching and waited. The footsteps approached, crossed the room, and stopped. Lontel could feel eyes burning into him, but he didn’t move. A door creaked open, and the footsteps continued on their way.

Breathing a little easier, Lontel hazarded a look behind him. There was a door, slightly ajar, where there had only been a wall before. Very cautiously he crept to it. He peered inside. Steps led down a dirt tunnel. The passageway flickered eerily in the dim torchlight that lit it.

Lontel chewed his lower lip. His nose wrinkled at the smell of stale dirt wafting up. This had to be a trap. He just knew it. He could feel it. Something, though, compelled him to go down and investigate. He slowed his breathing and relaxed his tight muscles. He had to maintain control!

Gently he eased the door open just far enough to admit him. It creaked slightly. As quietly and as quickly as he could, he hurried down the stairs. He needed to find someplace he could hide if necessary, and the steps offered nothing. They just kept spiraling down.

Lontel slowed his descent when he saw brighter light ahead. Also, he heard someone humming. It sounded like Arlin. Lontel continued down more slowly. He saw a shadow moving on the wall. Good, the light wouldn’t give him away. When he reached the bottom step, he glanced around the corner and saw Arlin busily going from a small box to a larger box to a hole in the wall. Lontel watched the wizard until something in the hole caught his eye. He focused on it more closely.

Yes! It was the hilt of a sword. Lontel smiled. All he had to do now was return to his hiding place behind the cabinet, wait for Arlin to finish with his magic business, then return here and get the sword. It sounded almost too easy, but then many of his biggest thefts in Sepultha had been his easiest. He started up the stairs when a squeaky yet familiar scream brought him scurrying back.

Looking around the corner, Lontel saw Arlin reach into the smaller box and pull out a kicking doll. Lontel almost couldn’t restrain a cry when he saw the doll was Davlena. Arlin pulled back a clear glass cover on the larger box and gently placed Davlena in it.

"I am sorry about this, Davlena. I hadn’t wanted to use you. I find you very pleasant company. Unfortunately, it is still true that humans just will not succumb to even my most potent shrinking magic," Arlin said. He pulled up a stool and continued. "This test is really nothing. I have had a few mice survive it easily. Of course, most of them get eaten, but those few do make it. Surely you are smarter than a mouse. At least, I think you are. You don’t think I would do this to you if I didn’t think you would survive. I am counting on your survival. How else will I be able to carry out my other experiments?

"All you have to do is make it through the maze to safety before the snake I release catches you. If by chance he does catch you, don’t worry. I am using a viper so your death will be quick and virtually painless.

"There is one added twist to make things just a bit more difficult for you. You won’t know when you reach safety. Your only clue is the viper won’t be able to hit you when he strikes." Protesting squeaks fomented from the box. Arlin blushed and said, "Really, Davlena, such language is not very becoming of an elven woman."

Arlin replaced the cover on the box and lifted a sliding door from one side. He clapped his hand together and said, "You must move Davlena. I can guarantee you that where I put you is not safety." As Arlin watched his show, Lontel studied the room. There was no cover for him to sneak around. The only thing he could do sprint for the sword.

Lontel took a slow deep breath and burst into the room. Arlin whirled around, falling from his stool. In five strides Lontel was at the hole. He grabbed the sword hilt and pulled the gleaming green weapon from its resting-place.

"Oh dear," Arlin said. He righted his stool and continued watching the chase in the box. Carefully Lontel approached him. When Arlin felt the sword's prick his back, he gasped and asked, "Now what are you going to do?"

"Nothing if you release Davlena," Lontel replied. Arlin looked back at him incredulously.

"You mean you will do nothing to me even though you have Wizbane?"

"Only if you release Davlena, NOW!" Arlin quickly made gestures over the box. He then removed the cover, pulled Davlena from it, set her on the floor, threw a fine powder on her, and chanted. In a puff of purple smoke Davlena returned to her normal size. She stood without moving, her eyes staring ahead blankly.

"What’s wrong with her?" Lontel growled.

"I am afraid the viper hypnotized her," Arlin answered. "That snake is getting smarter with every new test. You would have been amazed how quickly it caught Davlena, and she put up quite a chase. She…"

"Unhypnotize her," Lontel ordered.

"Oh, of course," Arlin answered. He snapped his fingers and Davlena blinked. She looked about her and saw Lontel, Arlin, and the viper gliding about in the cage. She jumped behind Lontel.

"Kill that bastard wizard," she cried.

"He can’t, Davlena," Arlin said. "He has promised not to hurt me if I released you. As you can see, I have released you." She glared at the wizard, tears streaming down her face.

She started to grab the sword. "Well, I made no such promise. He can let me have the sword and turn his back. The he’ll not be doing anything to you."

Arlin patiently explained, "That’s not quite true. You see, if he allows you to kill me then he is doing it only through a surrogate. He is as much the killer as you. If you wish to kill me, you must do it without Lontel knowing it so he will not break his word." Davlena shook her head. The wizard had a point. Besides, there was something about his innocent demeanor that made him impossible to dislike, at least for too long.

"We will not kill you," Lontel said, "but we will have to take our leave."

Arlin shook his head. "Of course. I will get you some provisions." He started to leave and added, "You can return Wizbane to its cubbyhole."

"No, I’m going to keep the sword," Lontel said.

Arlin sighed. "You don’t understand. If you take that sword with you, then you will be bringing the wrath of Oberon down upon me. We agreed if I released Davlena…"

"We agreed that I would do nothing to you. I am upholding my part of the agreement. I am going to take this sword as compensation for the trouble you have caused us. I don’t know that the wrath of Oberon will be anything to you. After all, you appear to be as steeped in the ways of wizards as he is. He should be nothing to you."

Arlin smiled. "You have touched my vanity. You may take Wizbane." He started up the stairs and called down, "Don’t worry, the provision I’ll be giving you will not be poisoned in any way."

An hour later, the three were standing at the entrance to the tree mansion. Lontel and Davlena had on new leather outfits with matching leather boots. Wizbane was sheathed in a plain scabbard. Both adventurers carried small packs with food and warm cloaks in them.

After a lengthy discussion, Lontel had convinced Arlin he needed a flint and steel to start a fire because he couldn’t do it by just striking a small twig against something abrasive. Arlin had insisted men could, but finally capitulated and dug up a flint and steel with some tinder to go with them.

After talking for another hour, Arlin finally said, "Be sure to let Grud carry you beyond the baboon’s territory. They allow him to pass through with whatever he can carry, but nothing and no one else. The beasts have even attacked me on occasion. They are excellent guards, though, so I haven’t complained." When Arlin finished, Grud unceremoniously lifted his two charges and carried them into a sunny day. He dropped them four hundred feet from the tree and turned to go.

"Goodbye, Grud," Davlena said.

"Grud," he answered and started back to the tree. The baboons let him pass but watched Lontel and Davlena closely. They waved to Arlin. He waved back and returned to his tree.