City of IF

[Thracia Alba]

"The Greatest Fantasy Story Ever"

Chapter Five: In Which Many Things Are Explained


Once upon a time, there was a dark, mysterious wood, and deep within this wood there was a tall tower made all of stone. The tower belonged to an evil magician who lusted for power, and it was guarded by a ferocious dragon. This was not a tower intended for any noble purpose; rather, it was a prison. But who could the prisoner be? Well, within the tower, locked away in a magically-sealed cell, languished a princess. She was not just any princess; she was Princess Kristelle of Niphti, and she was the fairest, kindest, mose graceful maiden in all the land.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME, YOU FROG-FACED LITTLE CREEP!! YYYEEEEAAAAAARRG!!!"

A silver platter burdened with cheeses, choice-cut meats, and fresh bread sailed across the comfortably-furnished cell at an impressive velocity and hit the wall with a resounding CLANG, ricocheting away and flinging its load in as many directions as it could manage. Toad himself managed to duck just before the now much-dented disc whizzed (or, rather, wobbled) through the space where his head had been, or would have done so had the bars in the doorway not stopped its aerial joyride. It was quite fortunate for Kristelle that looks cannot, in fact, kill, for if they could she would have been pushing up some rather sullen daisies at this point. "Your Highnefsh," Toad said through clenched teeth (though since he didn't have teeth, he said it through clenched lips; and though this was an impressive feat in itself, it had the unfortunate side-effect of muffling his speech a bit), "it doffen't do for you to wafte your food by frowing it at fthe wall."

"I meant to hit you," Kristelle growled.

Toad glared though the magical bars with all the hate he could muster, which was a lot. To think that he, Toad, personal lackey to the most powerful magician in all of Niphti and surrounding areas, was stuck playing babysitter to a spoiled and obnoxious royal brat, was insult enough in itself. But to be required to suffer such abuse, to have to cow down and whimper, 'Yes, your Highness,' 'No, your Highness,' 'Thank you for throwing food at me, your Highness,' this was torture beyond anything even his own moist mind could imagine, which was really saying something. His master was an evil genius, to be sure, but Toad couldn't help but think that there had to be some better, more practical way to go about all this business of throne-snatching. Sure, dragons and kidnapped princesses and the like might have tradition on their side, but wouldn't a more direct approach be simpler and more effective? He could think of several options himself, most of them involving a quiet sneak into royal bedchambers in the dead of night. Yes, he could see it now... The guards could be dispatched of easily enough, just distract them long enough to creep in, and then the monarchs themselves... Toad's damp, webbed fingers twitched excitedly. How long had it been since he had held a good, strong cord in his hands, been treated to the sweet sounds of the desperate, strangled gurgles of his victim as they desperately struggled for air? Too long, too long...

"What are you giggling about now, freak?" The princess' delicate features were twisted into the kind of revulsion one normally associates with the face of a person who has stepped barefoot into a dark kitchen at three in the morning, only to make the sudden and unexpected acquaintance of something cold and apparently aqueous on the linoleum. Kristelle turned away and waved a hand dismissively. "I tire of the sight of you, fish-man. Begone!"

Toad hesitated for a moment, a muscle under his eye twitching dangerously. Then with an indignant "hmmph!" he spun around and scuttled down the winding stairs, his furious mutterings trailing off in his wake. "That's the way we should do it, oh yes, give Toad a good rope or pillow anytime..."

Kristelle breathed a sigh of relief when the minion had finally gone, and shuddered. What a creep. And he dared to treat her, the royal granddaughter of King Goosander of Niphti, as if she were a common prisoner! It was intolerable! It was not to be endured! And yet...

The princess sat down heavily upon the feather mattress and dejectedly picked a pepperoni out of her flowing gold tresses. The truth of the matter, as much as it pained her to admit it, was that it looked as if she'd just have to endure her situation for now, or at least until Mother and Daddy tired of this little charade. Kristelle punched a pillow. She wasn't used to having to do anything she didn't want to, which was probably why she was here now. A corner of her mouth twitched upward in a sardonic little grin. She had to hand it to her parents; they had gone out of their way to make this seem as legitimate as possible, even to the point of hiring thugs to kidnap her in the middle of the night and carry her off to this stinking tower in the woods. But Kristelle was under no illusions. She knew this was a set-up, a ruse designed to force her into marrying the first bone-headed brute to show up. She also knew that no such rescue would be coming; she had seen to that by creating for herself the reputation of being the the most unmanageable maiden in all the land. It had been a hard-earned reputation, but worth every bit of effort. No would-be prince, no matter how bone-headed, would dare risking her wrath, never mind the dragon! She had no interest in marriage, or in boys at all for that matter. She sniffed disgustedly. That's all anyone had ever wanted or expected her to do anyway. 'Act like a lady, Kristelle,' 'Don't yell so, Kristelle,' 'Work hard at your dancing and your embroidery, Kristelle, so that one day you can make a good wife and produce plenty of heirs for the kingdom.' However one went about producing heirs was a mystery to her, and anyone she had ever asked had looked suddenly uncomfortable and remembered an appointment they were missing. No matter. Soon Mother and Daddy would give up and forget about all this ridiculous business, and then she could go home. It was just a matter of time.

"Oh, I don't think you have to wait all that long, dearie."

Kristelle jumped violently and spun around to see a hooded, cloaked figure standing away in the corner. "Wh-who... How did you...?" she stammered. She noticed the person, whoever they were, was standing inside the room, even though the bars in the doorway were still in place. Then she got ahold of herself and struck a dignified pose. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" she demanded.

"My dear, I'm your ticket out of this cell," the figure said, and though its face was hidden by the hood, Kristelle could see it's thin-lipped mouth. It was grinning like an executioner that knows the French Revolution is about to start, or like a seventh-grade math teacher who knows you haven't done your homework.

---

"I spy with my little eye something beginning with 'T'."

"Umm..." Gemma let her eyes take in the surrounding forest. "Is it 'tree'?"

"However did you guess?"

"Got lucky."

"All right, then, your turn."

"Okay. I spy with my little eye something beginning with 'F'."

"...'Forest'?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Neither of them said anything for a time, and then, "Hey, Gemma?"

"Yes, Cleo?"

"You think of anything yet?" The luckless elf examined her ragged fingernails in a manner that she hoped was nonchalant. "'Cause, you know, it's getting dark and stuff, and they want to kill me at sunrise, and stuff..."

Gemma shifted uncomfortably. Most of her body had fallen asleep, a luxury her brain couldn't seem to afford at the moment. "I'm, uh, letting my subconscious mull over it." The three adventurers, herself, Cleo, and that stupid Coriander (who still hadn't woke up yet; she was beginning to suspect that he was no longer knocked out, but simply sleeping), had been stuck in cages in that stinking tree for hours now. And it literally did stink. Somehow this tree was producing an odor that could have easily come from a dog with a stomach ache, or an ape with an unhealthy banana obsession, or possibly some combination of the two. She eyed the tree suspiciously; she was starting to wonder if it was really an oak at all. But in truth, she hadn't come up with a single escape plan that wouldn't ultimately end with the three of them getting horribly maimed or killed. She wasn't about to tell Cleo that, though.

"Oh. Okay, then." Cleo shifted in her own cage and searched desperately for another topic. "Um... I spy with my little eye something beginning with 'R'."

Gemma sighed and glanced around. There was the rope that was lashed to the tops of the cages, wound over a strong branch above, and at the other side was wrapped and tied firmly around a gigantic, exposed root that... Gemma's eyes widened suddenly as inspiration struck like a brick in the face. "That's it!" she gasped. "It's the root!"

"No, actually, I was thinking of the rope," Cleo said, but Gemma ignored her. She cleared her throat, clapped her hands dramatically to her cheeks, and let out the most blood-curdling scream she could manage. The guard, who had been dozing on the ground below, jumped about three feet in the air.

"Huh-- what--" he stammered, and looked all around for whatever army of ghouls must be emerging from the trees. He was somewhat surprised when there wasn't any. "What is it? What happened?" he shouted up while notching an arrow to his bow.

"Ouch, Gemma, what was that for?" Cleo asked, wincing. Gemma ignored her.

"What are you doing to this poor tree?!" she cried at the top of her lungs. "Can't you see it's suffering?!"

The guard paled a bit and looked up and down the length of the gigantic oak, or whatever it was. "What do you mean?"

"That root," she wailed, and thrust a pointed finger in the direction of the aforementioned object, "that poor, poor root is a life-vein of this magestic giant of the forest, this arboreal adonis, and you're strangling it!!"

"Gemma, I don't think it's hurting it any..." Cleo started, but Gemma interrupted her.

"Will you shut up?" she hissed. "I'm trying to save our skins here!"

More blood, in the meantime, had drained from the face of the elven guard. "But, we've always..." he faltered, visibly shaken. "That is to say, we've done this before..."

"And how long has this poor tree had to suffer for your selfishness?!" Gemma clutched her hand to her heart as one stricken. "Decades? Centuries?! I shudder to think!" She held her breath and waited anxiously. This was it; either the guard bought it or he didn't, and their futures all "hung", so to speak, on his reaction.

And then he reacted in a way she hadn't at all expected.

With a scream like one possessed, the guard threw his hands into the air, sending the bow and arrow flying in different directions. Then he rushed over to the root, pulling a dagger from his belt as he went. Gemma's heart dropped to her stomach. "No, no!" she shouted. "You don't have to cut them all at once! Just lower us down gent... ly..." Her voice trailed off in horror as she watched, like a cliché slow-motion scene from an action flick, the elf grab the three lengths of rope in one hand, and with the other swing back the dagger, which gleamed even in the gloom, and then he brought his arm back around, and time woke itself up and got back to work. And then two things happened at once: the elf, still holding tightly to the ropes, went up, and the three cages, still attatched to the ropes, went down. And then they were falling, falling...

deus ex machina
n. 1) an unexpected power or event saving a seemingly hopeless situation, esp. in a play or novel.
2) a handy plot device.

Gemma hid her face in her hands and waited for the impact. Then there was a loud crunching noise, and a violent jerking, and then stillness. She hesitated. Was this it, then? Had she died and gone to Heaven? She ventured a peek between her fingers. She could see trees, and off a little ways there was Coriander, still snoozing away in his cage. Oh great, so she was in Hell! "What did I do that was so bad?!" Gemma shouted, shaking her fist towards the now-dark sky. "I said I was sorry for all those sins and stuff!"

"G... Gem-- Gemma..."

She turned and saw Cleo, eyes turned upward and widened in a sort of wordless terror. Mouth gaping like that of a beached trout, the elf pointed a shaking, scrawny finger upward. Gemma followed it and looked up to see... "Holy..." she breathed, and backed up against the bars so that the caged tilted backward dangerously. The elf guard was there, hanging onto a rope for dear life and gazing in horror at the branch over which the ropes had been slung, which was now twisted around them and holding them in place. A different branch that had supported Coriander's rope was now holding it as well, as one might hold the handle on a bag of groceries. Gemma let her gaze drift to the ground, which was now only about five below. Then she looked back up at the tree.

I thank you for your concern. A deep and ancient voice, rich as amber from the tree of life, echoed through her mind. I must say you were the first to express any. But really, I'm fine, it continued, and Gemma could have sworn one of the knotholes actually winked at her. Then there was another crunching sound as the branches lowered the cages gently to the ground and let go of the ropes; the guard scrambled onto a branch to avoid falling. Now run along, dearies, rumbled the tree. I believe you have other matters to attend to. It winked, for lack of a better word, again. Word gets around, you know.

Dazed and as if in a dream, Gemma lifted herself out of the top of the cage, which was open. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cleo do the same, and together they stood for a moment, gazing dumbly at the tree, which had gone back to acting like a tree. Even the guard seemed too dumbfounded to do anything and sat on the branch, looking lost. Cleo was, of course, the first one to break the silence. "Did we... did it... I mean, did it just..."

Gemma shook herself roughly out of her stupor. "Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "The ropes just got caught on the branches, that's all."

"Yeah, it was just our, whatchamacallit."

"Imagination?"

"Yeah."

Gemma glanced back at the now-still branches and shuddered. "Let's get the hell out of here," she said. With that, she strode over to Coriander's cage and pushed, knocking it onto its side; the slumbering youth rolled out, and Gemma kicked him in the ribs. "Wake up, idiot. We have to get outta here."

He groaned. "Nosso loud, Mom. There's a spider hitting me with an elf."

Gemma growled impatiently and yanked him up by the arm. "Stop playing games! We need to leave now!"

Coriander awoke with a start, his eyes focusing blurrily on the surrounding scene. "Gemma? What's going on?"

"Nothing you can't make worse, I'm sure," she snapped. "Now let's go!" She tugged on his arm, the three set off into the trees, and soon the woods were silent. Well, almost silent.

'Just our imagination', indeed. Well, that's gratitude for you.

---

The night was dark. Nights generally are, at any rate. It's what they excel at, and they're very proud of the fact. They actually prefer that you curse the darkness, because for them it's a bit of an ego-booster. Of course, they don't mind the candle, either; they enjoy a challenge.

Magicians also enjoy a challenge. Conjuring up a thunderstorm hadn't been absolutely necessary, and it certainly hadn't been easy work, but a good scheme should always involve a little drama. Wictred stood atop the tower, leaning into the howling wind and admiring his handiwork. Black and purple clouds swirled angrily overhead; now and then they growled like an angry tiger or flashed an electrical tooth. The air was so charged that the magician's hair stood on end, which was a nice effect. He grinned. It was magic time. "Toad!" he shouted over the wind and thunder.

The lackey appeared at his master's side immediately. He was shaking like a leaf, which only cheered Wictred further. "Y-y-yes, M-master?" he stammered.

Wictred's grin was truly evil, and it was a good one. He had practiced in front of a mirror all morning. "Tell your fellow minions to release the dragon at my signal," he said, "and then bring our royal guest up for an audience. And be quick about it! I'll need all my concentration to keep our scaly friend under my control. The dragon will prove difficult, as well." He chuckled at his own joke.

Toad, trembling in fright, managed a sickly little grin. "Yes, M-master." He bowed quickly and scurried off down the trapdoor and into the tower. Wictred cackled maniacally. And why not? He had earned it. Everything was finally in place, and his plan was about to unfold without a hitch. Just as Princess Kristelle was brought up he would order the dragon be released, and he would make a show of warding the great beast off while having it under his control the entire time. Then, as soon as the creature had been "vanquished", Kristelle would have no choice but to marry him. And then... Wictred indulged in another insidious chuckle. Soon the throne would be his, and with the most powerful army of the world at his beck and call, the world itself would be next!

Wictred heard the trapdoor bang open behind him. This was it! The magician gave the signal to release the dragon, and prepared to enter the creature's mind. It would take his total, absolute, undivided concentration...

"Master, Master!" Toad's frantic voice rang through the din of the storm. "The princess... she's gone!"

"WHAT?!" Wictred spun around to face the servant, and as he did so the contact was broken. There was a deafening roar as the dragon broke from its chains, screams as the servants below trampled each other to get out of the way. The creature swooped into the air where it hovered for a moment, somehow blacker than the storm-filled sky. Then, to Wictred's horror, it turned and flew back towards the tower. Toad shrieked and dove for the trapdoor, Wictred scrambling at his heels. They reached the door and fought each other frantically to get in first until Wictred grabbed the lackey by his collar, threw him down through the door, and jumped down after him, slamming the door shut just in the nick of time. He could hear another roar outside, and he screamed and jumped back as the wood started to char, the iron bindings glowing red-hot. Then there was a great, leathery flapping of wings, and the enraged roaring faded off into the distance.

Wictred said nothing for what felt like an eternity, an eternity in which Toad attempted to make himself look as small as possible. Finally the magician, without seeming to turn the rest of his body, turned his head until he was facing the servant. Toad figited under the deafening stare. He felt he was expected to say something, so he did. "Uh, perhaps, Master," he ventured, "perhaps the beast went off in search of the princess? Maybe?"

---

"What was that?"

Gemma glanced up. "What was what?"

"It sounded like a frog being smacked violently against a stone wall."

She shrugged. "You're hearing things. Do you see walls of any sort around here?"

Cleo rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's not as if we elves have really good hearing or anything."

"I don't want to hear about the elves or their hearing, good or no. I'm sick to death of elves. I never want to see another elf again for as long as I live."

Cleo waited patiently for Gemma's hastily-added, "Present company excluded," which of course never came. The three of them, she, Gemma, and that kid Gemma was traveling with, had run hellbent for election through the woods after escaping from their "prison", and had only stopped when it had become too dark to avoid running into the trees ahead. They had found shelter in a convenient cave that probably wasn't home to a troll. "We'd know from the smell," Gemma had assured them. "If there's a troll anywhere for ten miles around, you'll know."

None of them, of course, knew how to make a fire.

Cleo sighed and leaned back against the cave wall. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that kid staring at her. What was his name again? Cilantro, or something like that. Anyway, Cleo had caught him gawping away at her ever since they had escaped. It was creepy. "Why don't you take a picture?" she said. "It'll last longer."

The boy blushed a deep crimson. "Um, sorry," he muttered, clearly embarrassed. "It's just that I never thought... Well, what with you being a real, live elf and all... Gosh, on my quest, of all things!"

Cleo attempted to process his disjointed explanation and failed. "Quest? What on earth is he talking about?" she asked, turning to Gemma, who in turn crossed her arms and snorted.

"Oh, don't mind Coriander," she said bitterly. "He's just on some idiotic, suicidal mission, and he probably wants to drag you along as well."

Coriander looked surprised. "But Gemma, you're on this quest as well."

"No, I'm not! You lied to me, got us nearly killed, captured, and nearly killed again, and all because you were too stinking impatient to stick to the path!"

Coriander furrowed his brow and cast his eyes downward. He seemed so miserable that Cleo almost felt sorry for him. "Yeah, about that," he said dejectedly. "I feel really awful about lying to you, Gemma. My actions put you in a great deal of danger, and I have no excuse for what I did. I'm very sorry."

It was a good apology and seemed sincere enough to Cleo. Gemma, on the other hand, didn't appear utterly convinced. "You're sorry?" she snapped. "Do you honestly think a mere apology will change the past?"

"Will holding a grudge against me do so either?" he replied in a quiet voice.

This was too awkward. Desperate to change the subject, Cleo interrupted. "Well, anyway," she said in what she hoped was a lighter tone, "I don't think I could join your quest. I have my own quest of sorts already."

Coriander perked up immediately. "Ooh, another quest? Really? What is it?"

Gemma cocked an eyebrow. "Yes, Cleo, on what errand has the Council sent you this time? Are they out of coffee? Or does Magden want you to pick up her dry-cleaning?"

"Har, har. Very funny."

Coriander's face had once more slipped into its accustomed expression of surprised confusion. "Council? What Council?"

"The Witches' Council," Gemma replied in a disgusted tone. "They're a magical corporation that hires gullible morons to run around like slaves for them."

Cleo felt her eyes narrow of their own accord. "I seem to recall you being one of those 'gullible morons' up until a few days ago," she said. "You went and got your MW and everything."

"MW?" Coriander's puzzlement had been kicked up a few notches.

"Master of Witchcraft," Gemma said.

"Means she's a witch," Cleo said.

Coriander gasped. "A witch? Really?" He was positively starry-eyed. "So you can, you know, do magic and stuff?!" The two ladies exchanged a look.

"Well..."

"Not in so many words..."

"Y'see..."

Coriander tilted his head to one side. "I'm confused," he said, which was no lie. "Witches can do magic, right? It's kind of what they're famous for."

Gemma cleared her throat. "Well, these days it's more about getting the degree."

"Degree?"

"Yes, degree. You go to school, you take the classes, learn the theories, and graduate with a degree in witchcraft."

The youth's face fell as horrible realization dawned. "So... you don't actually have to be magical to be a witch?"

"Not really, no."

"Oh." Coriander said, crestfallen. "Well, what was your job in the Witches' Council, then?"

"I was an executive assistant," she said with dignity.

"You know, a secretary," Cleo added.

Coriander shrugged. "Oh. Well that's interesting too, I guess."

"It wasn't."

The boy seemed to ponder this for a moment. "What about you?" He turned to Cleo with a face full of hope. "You work for the Witches' Council too, right? Are you a witch? Can you do magic?"

Cleo sighed. "If I could, do you think I'd be where I am now?"

"Cleo? Magical? Now that's a laugh!" snorted Gemma. "She's about as magical as a dishrag. All elves are."

Cleo nodded. "They're more nature-oriented. Not that I'm that, either."

"But you said witches' don't have to be magical," Coriander pointed out.

"No, but you at least have to understand the basic principles and theories," Cleo replied sadly. "It makes as much sense to me as a square circle. Anyway," she continued, wishing to move onto a less depressing toping and failing miserably, "magical or no, I have my job to do like everyone else. And right now my job is to find Princess Kristelle."

Gemma turned sharply. "What on earth does Magden want with the princess?"

Cleo was about to go into a long and boring explanation that would probably take at least a couple of paragraphs, but luckily Coriander chose that moment to interrupt eagerly with, "Then it looks like we're going the same way. Excellent! You can help Gemma and me with our quest!"

Cleo was about to ask what, exactly, Coriander's quest was, even though the answer would probably have been painfully obvious to just about anyone else who has been paying attention so far, when luckily Gemma chose that moment to interrupt snippily with, "Uh-uh. Look, Coriander, I might consider forgiving you if, and only if, you abandon this ridiculous idea of yours. There will be other quests that will be less suicidally dangerous and, more importantly, not involving me. And besides," she added with a regretful sigh, "we're so hopelessly lost, it's going to be hard enough to find the path again at any rate."

"But I have a strong feeling I know where the path is," Coriander protested. "I have this internal... whatchamacallit."

"Compass?" Cleo volunteered.

Coriander beamed. "Yeah, that's it!"

Gemma frowned. "What's a compass?"

"No idea," he said. "But whatever it is, I have it."

Cleo looked the youth squarely in the face for the first time since she had met him. There was something... She couldn't quite put her finger on it...

"Well, whatever it is," Gemma said firmly, folding her arms across her chest, "you can use it to help up get out of this stinking forest in the morning."

And that was that.

---

Gemma awoke from a troubled sleep. She had been standing in a darkened room, and off in the darkest corner of the room had been a scrawny, hunched figure, bent over a creaky desk and scribbling something with bleeding fingertips. Writing, writing... It had been muttering to itself feverishly, something like, "Never again... I'll be damned if I do... Gonna take forever to type up..." Gemma shuddered. It had been horrible. She glanced toward the mouth of the cave. Sounded like it was raining now. As if on cue, a peal of thunder boomed terribly, causing her to jump in surprise.

"So you can't sleep either?" It was that bizarre elf with the ridiculous name, Cleothestrina. She was watching the snoring Coriander intently, as if trying to remember something.

Gemma shrugged. "I had this crazy dream. Anyway," she said, looking quizzically at her former co-worker, "what's so interesting? Is he growing another head or something?"

"It wouldn't surprise me if he did, what with all the other nonsense I've been subjected to lately." She shook her head. "But no. It's just that there's something strange about this kid. I'm not sure why, but I feel like I've met him before."

"Puh. If you'd met the likes of him before, you'd definitely remember."

"Tell me, Gemma," Cleo said, "you never seemed like much of a joiner before. Why are you accompanying this Coriander on his quest, or whatever it is he's doing?"

"I'm equally curious, Cleo." Gemma raised a brow. "What is it, exactly, that the Council wants with this princess? You tell me, and I'll give you some answers."

Cleo sighed. "Very well. I suppose it's all right to tell you." So she told her.

After she had finished Gemma frowned. "Well, that does answer my original question, but it also raises even further questions. It's common knowledge that Magden assisted with Kristelle's birth, so wouldn't she, of all people, know about the gender in question? And for another thing," she said, raising an index finger, "don't Gossamer and the rest of the High Council find it just a little odd that Magden, the most powerful witch around, would just up and disappear like that?"

Cleo shrugged. "Gossamer may try her best to be as intimidating as Magden, and she succeeds for the most part. But she is a fairy, and is just as flutter-brained as the rest of her kind. Magden could tell her the sun is the moon and she wouldn't know the difference. And as for your other point, I suppose everyone just assumes Magden left for some important reason, can take care of herself, and will be back when she's good and ready. Anyway," she continued," it's not my job to 'question the wisdom of the Council'. I don't care about whatever their rationalizations are, so long as they pay me at the end of the day."

"So what will you do when you get there, then? Do they expect you to fight off that silly magician's pet lizard? Or are you going to knock on the door and politely ask if he'll turn the girl over to you please, because the Council would really like to talk to her, please?"

Cleo plucked at a thread on her fraying sleeve. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be completely honest." She shrugged again. "I just go where they send me, and things generally work out in the end. Either that or I die. Now I've lived up to my end of the bargain," she said, "so now it's your turn. Come on, spill the beans; why are you hanging out with this kid?"

Cleo seemed suddenly weary. "Tell me, did you ever pay attention in tenth-grade magical history?"

"That depends on what you mean by 'pay attention'."

"By 'pay attention', I mean 'listen to whatever the teacher was blathering on about and generally stay awake'."

"Ah. Then no, can't say I did."

Gemma sighed. "Do you at least remember the First Cardinal Rule of Questing?"

The elf nodded. "Of course. They drill that one into you nonstop." She quoted, "'Unless you're a professional, it's a good idea to stay away from quests of any kind if at all possible. Especially key,'" she continued, "'is the Bumbling-but-Purehearted Youth; this creature should be avoided at all times, at any cost. But should you happen to...' Oh dear." She trailed off as understanding dawned. "You mean you..."

"Ditched him only to be reunited under unexpected and dangerous circumstances? Yes," Gemma replied miserably.

"But then you know what this means, don't you?"

"Of course I do! It means Fate has a hand in this!" She buried her face in her hands.

"'And if you try to thwart Fate...'"

"'Something Really Bad Happens.'"

Cleo tut-tutted in sympathy. "Poor thing, you're stuck on this quest then, aren't you?"

Gemma nodded. "Until it's finished, or until he gives it up of his own accord. Which he will in the morning. Trust me on that." She pounded her right fist against her left hand, and once more Cleo almost felt sorry for this Coriander.

Of all the questing companions, she thought, he had to pick Gemma. Poor kid. But perhaps she's the only thing that's helped him survive so far. Fate is weird like that. And it seems to have a sick sense of humor. The two sat in silence for some time while the rain poured and the thunder boomed and the lightning flashed outside. Suddenly, Cleo's pointed ears perked. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.

"Hearing frogs being thrown about again, are we?"

"Shut up, I'm serious." The concentration on her face was intense. "There's something scratching around further in."

Gemma listened. "I don't hear anything. It's probably just a rat, or a gnome, or something."

Cleo shook her head. "It's much too large and much too heavy." She peered off into the darkness of the deeper part of the cave, and Gemma joined her.

"I wonder if..." Gemma began, and froze. There in the darkness gleamed two yellow eyes like windows into Hell. And they were staring straight at her.

---

Coriander, having grown up on a farm in the rural outskirts of Niphti, was accustomed to having to rise early. What he wasn't accustomed to was being prodded into wakefulness by someone's boot in his ribs. That seemed to have been happening a lot lately. "Jussa minute, Gemma," he muttered. "I'll be up in a sec."

"Wake up, human. I have no patience for your foolishness."

Now that didn't sound like Gemma. Coriander's eyes snapped open and he beheld the tall figure of an elf standing over him, boot pulled back and at ready. The youth glanced around in confusion at the now-empty cave mouth. The sun was rising outside, but that was just about the only thing that seemed right. "What's going on?" he asked. "Where are Gemma and Cleo?" He scrambled to his feet.

The elf sighed. "That's what I was hoping you could tell me," he said. "But no matter. I'm sure I'll find them soon enough, as well."

Coriander peered at the beardless face and exclaimed, "Hey! You're that elf that knocked us out!"

"And don't forget saved your sorry hides from those Lieders you were stupid enough to blunder into."

"Yeah, but then you hit us across the head with your bow! I was there! I saw you!"

The elf shrugged. "I had to. You weren't coming along peacefully."

Coriander pointed an accusing finger. "And then you locked us up in that tree! Or so I was told, anyway. I was kind of asleep at the time."

"Look, we can rehash recent events all you want any other time," he said, "but right now I really don't have the time for this. We need to find those companions of yours."

Coriander eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want with them?"

"I need to apprehend them and bring them back so justice can be served, naturally." Then the elf seemed to remember something. "Oh yeah, you're under arrest, by the way."

"But I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You stepped off the path and into elven territory without a permit. So yes, you did do something wrong."

Coriander frowned. "Well, that's stupid. And I'm not going with you."

"I don't see that you have much of a choice," the elf said, looking around at the cave boredly. "I will take you into custody whether you cooperate or not, though I'd rather not have to tie you up and leave you here while I go off to search for your friends. It would be extra trouble for me, and frankly I could use your help in finding them."

"Forget it! Do you think I'm dumb enough to help you find my friends just so you can arrest us all?"

The elf shrugged. "Fine then. Let me just get my rope..." He turned and started to dig around in a rather tattered backpack he was wearing. Coriander wondered if he'd be able to run past the would-be captor without getting caught. "Oh, and don't try to run while I'm distracted or anything," the elf added, still rooting around in the bag. "I'm very fast, and would catch you in no time."

Drat. Well that was all for it, then. Coriander would be dragged back to the elves and goodness knows what they'd... He shook himself. What kind of talk was this?! A true hero would never let himself get caught! There had to be something he could do. His eyes roved desperately across the cave. There! He spotted a fist-sized rock lying near his foot. If there was one thing Coriander had always prided himself on, it was his aim. He could knock a crabapple out of his mother's favorite tree from a hundred feet away on a windy day. He glanced back at the elf, who was still going through the bag and muttering, "I'm sure it was in here somewhere... What on earth did she need all this stuff for...?" It would be a simple matter to grab the rock and throw it at the elf, knocking him out and giving Coriander a chance to get away. It would certainly serve him right, for what he had done to Gemma and Coriander! But the boy paused uncertainly. Would a true hero attack someone so sneakily? It didn't seem very heroic. And besides, this elf seemed to know his way around the forest, and if anyone could find the others (wherever they had gone), he could; and if they found them, the three could possibly get away. Then again, the elf seemed pretty capable at arresting people, and there was a good chance that they would be carried off to elven "justice" again. But even if Coriander did escape, what chance did he have of finding Gemma and Cleo on his own? He clutched his head in his hands. What to do, what to do?!

[Chinaren]

Hurrah! Finally it is here!

Another lovely chapter Alba. What to do? Mmm. I think he should go along with the elf, finding the others should be a first priority. Once that is done they can think of ways to escape from Mr. Elfy.

Now, are you working on the next chapter yet? :shock: ;)

Loved the 'dream' btw!

[Thracia Alba]

chinaren wrote:
Now, are you working on the next chapter yet? :shock: ;)



*screams*

[Key]

Great chapter, Thracia! :D

I think a true hero would neither go quietly with the elf nor hit him sneakily. A true hero would challenge him to a duel. How about the elf's bow against Coriander's rock at 20 paces?

[Solomon Birch]

Superb chapter Ms. Alba! Hilarious!

Quote: deus ex machina
n. 1) an unexpected power or event saving a seemingly hopeless situation, esp. in a play or novel.
2) a handy plot device.


Ahahahaha! :lol: :biggrin:

I think that desperate times call for desperate measures. A rock to the forehead would suffice, for the moment. Possibly a kick in the ribs as well. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

It was now or never. Coriander fingered the stone apprehensively, then coughed. The elf turned to look at him.

"Eat rock you pale skinned ninny! Nyaaahhh!"

Or somthing like that. ;)

Can't wait for the next chapter! :D

*holds breath* :shock:

[Smee]

Awesome chapter Thracia :lol:

Although handwriting first *shudder* You must be mad.


He should throw the rock, tie up the elf and block up the cave before going to find his Gemma and Cleo.

However, his ideas of a noble hero will make him hunt our the girls with the elfs help - appearing to Gemma that once again he led danger to them expecting her to sort it out. What a great Hero :D

Happier Writing ;)

[Shady Stoat]

Thracia Alba wrote: Gemma glanced up. "What was what?"

"It sounded like a frog being smacked violently against a stone wall."

ROFL! So many funnies in this chapter, and the plot rolls on apace as well. Good one Thrace :D

As for the decision point... I think his best idea is to keep this elf talking in the hopes that his companions will return shortly. He hasn't really got the brain-power to think up anything cleverer than 'hit it with a rock'.

Gemma or Cleo, on the other hand... (if they return)... might want to bring up the subject of Elven 'Territory.' Just as it's wrong to cause trees pain by binding a rope around their poor little rooty-wootys, it's also wrong to subject them to slavery by declaring their lands your own, and making yourselves the overseers of it. I think the elves should prostrate themselves before the nearest tree and beg forgiveness for their prior crimes against treedom.

Then might be a good time to try the rock...

[Ingrothechundyer]

Great chapter! I loved the dream :D

I agree that he is probally going to hunt the girls with the elf.

[LordoftheNight]

Quote: Cleo tut-tutted in sympathy. "Poor thing, you're stuck on this quest then, aren't you?"

Cleo nodded. "Until it's finished, or until he gives it up of his own accord. Which he will in the morning. Trust me on that." She pounded her right fist against her left hand, and once more Cleo almost felt sorry for this Coriander.

I think the second Cleo was meant to be Gemma here. But I could be wrong, and good chapter.

Attacking him with the rock seems to be the only acceptable outcome, whether or not he gives him warning first.

[Thracia Alba]

Typo acknowledged and corrected. Thankee kindly, Lordy!

I swear you guys crack me up.

Quote: It was now or never. Coriander fingered the stone apprehensively, then coughed. The elf turned to look at him.

"Eat rock you pale skinned ninny! Nyaaahhh!"

:rofl: I shall forever remember that quote as one of my favorites. Mind if I steal? (Not that it matters if you do, but I just thought it'd be polite to ask. ;) )

Shady Stoat, your idea is hilarious, and I can think of a couple directions that could take. I hope y'all vote for it.

I'll put up the poll tomorrow after school.

[Solomon Birch]

Haha! Glad you liked it, and steal away! That's why I posted it! :biggrin:

[thebean203]

Shady Stoat wrote:
...He hasn't really got the brain-power to think up anything cleverer than 'hit it with a rock'.

of course, the classic 'hit-it-with-a-rock and run' neanderthal approach...

coriander's mind and body may not have been included in darwins "survival of the fittest"

:rofl: ROFL another chapter of the greatest fantasy story ever...so far the story has lived up to the title!

[Ravenwing]

*laughs out loud* I am glad I caught up to this story after a 72-hour sabbatical due to the fact I couldn't get internet access.

I think we should just go along with the elf. But like others have said, we don't have to go along quietly. Once the the group is back together, surely three heads can think of something to do with an elf. ;)

[Thracia Alba]

What do ya do with an elven captor,
What do ya do with an elven captor,
What do ya do with an elven captor,
Earl-eye in the mornin'?

Hit 'em in the head with a fist-sized rock now,
Hit 'em in the head with a fist-sized rock now,
Hit 'em in the head with a fist-sized rock now,
While he is distracted.

Way hey and down he goes now,
Way hey and down he goes now,
Way hey and down he goes now,
Earl-eye in the mornin'...

Tie 'em up good while he's still unconscious,
Tie 'em up good while he's still unconscious,
Tie 'em up good while he's still unconscious,
So he can't fol-low you.

Then run away like a little chicken,
Then run away like a little chicken,
Then run away like a little chicken,
Earl-eye in the mornin'...

And that's what ya do with an elven captor,
That's what ya do with an elven captor,
That's what ya do with an elven captor,
Earl-eye in the mornin'!

[Ravenwing]

You know, when you have so much time, when you decide to post up a song that is related to your story.

[LordoftheNight]

Ah, I was wondering which hole you'd been hiding in Rave.

[Thracia Alba]

Ravenwing wrote: You know, when you have so much time, when you decide to post up a song that is related to your story.

*raspberry* It only took a couple minutes. It's not like it's bloody Shakespeare or anything.

[Ravenwing]

lordofthenight wrote: Ah, I was wondering which hole you'd been hiding in Rave.

Really. I gave you ample opportunity to surpass me in posts it would seem. :cool:

I can't write poetry in a few minutes, so I had to make a comment. :D

[Thracia Alba]

Actually, most of it was copy-and-paste. My kind of "poetry". ;)

[Solomon Birch]

The best invention since sliced bread. :biggrin:

[Ravenwing]

Which was probably before your time, Soily. :D

[ethereal_fauna]

Great chapter! :D
Quote: She could see trees, and off a little ways there was Coriander, still snoozing away in his cage. Oh great, so she was in Hell!

Loved that quote. Funny stuff.

I rather like Key's idea of a duel. Sounds like what our hero would do...pitting his rock against the bow in a fair challenge.

[Thracia Alba]

You call that fair? :shock: It could prove interesting, though... And humorous. Humor being the main goal here.

[Thracia Alba]

Poll's up, peeps. Time to get a-votin'.

[Ravenwing]

Voted.

[Solomon Birch]

Voted! Dah-de-dah! :biggrin:

Let's just hope elves have soft, fleshy heads....

*holds breath* :shock:

[Ravenwing]

Already there is a tie... ;)

[Thracia Alba]

That seems to happen a lot with this story. No matter, though. I could probably fit in all four of them. :cool:

[LordoftheNight]

Voted to smash heads, but didn't affect the tie.

[Dobs]

grat new chapter thracia! a bit long for me but i got through it! :D

[Thracia Alba]

Dobs wrote: grat new chapter thracia! a bit long for me but i got through it! :D

Heh, sorry about that. I do tend to get a bit wordy, don't I? ;)

[Ingrothechundyer]

Lots of funny words that make for very fun reading :biggrin:

[Ravenwing]

A tie between the first and last options.

[Thracia Alba]

Argh. And I had everything all figured out for option 2, which was winning until recently. Ah well, time to get a-plottin'. *plots*

[Chinaren]

Thracia Alba wrote: Argh. And I had everything all figured out for option 2, which was winning until recently. Ah well, time to get a-plottin'. *plots*

Ahaha! Yes, that happens. I had to scrap a whole chapter of Narg once, when the vote suddenly swang the other way at the last minute.

*shakes fist* ;)

[Ravenwing]

LOL. That is why you should put a time limit on your polls sometimes. Keeps people from casting sudden votes.

[Thracia Alba]

Okay, poll's over, the duel option won out *grumblegripecomplain*. Time to get a-writin'! *examines now-scabbed-over fingertips and winces*

[Kalanna Rai]

*looks at massive to-do list and back at the grumbling Thracia* I'm sorry you feel that way...wanna cookie?

[Thracia Alba]

That's okay. I had to bake six dozen tonight. Thanks, though! :D

[Ravenwing]

Well I should be writing the next chapter of Glassbreaker, but APs have started, and I am already swamped with work. I can't even start the new story I thought up a month ago.... :(

Good luck Alba on the next chapter. :D