Euphoria Page 11

  Baeloc searched farther from the shore. He found a limb but couldn’t break it. Next was a thorny branch he couldn’t handle. Then was a rock, which just confused him. The frustration caused his small mind to panic.

  He saw a flower, tried a plant, grabbed for a snake—which looked like a stick. And then full panic set in and he found himself yelling, waving his arms, and running back and forth on the shore. If he hadn’t tripped and fallen, Baeloc’s rant would have gone on for hours.

  The smack on the ground helped him come to his senses. As he rolled over, he saw the hazard. It was a part of a branch. As he sat up, his mind sized up the stick. It looked like it would be perfect. And then as he got to his feet, the object looked familiar. It was his walking stick.

  Quite a while ago, Baeloc had fashioned this stick to help him out with tough reaches, climbs, and other assorted activities one might use such a tool for. In his greedy panic, he must have dropped it. Quickly he snatched it up, hugging it like a long-missed mate. Then he remembered the bag.

  Timidly he approached the shore, fearing any contact with the water, but wanting the prize floating on the river. The stick’s reach came just barely within an inch of the sack. If he stretched out over the water, he could at least make the pack bob up and down, but nothing more.

  He took a moment to think before frustration set in again. As he was caressing his stick, the wounds from the thorn branch ached. Pain connected with a thought, which composed an idea and then a possible solution. Baeloc quickly got to crafting his thorn tool.

  In five short minutes, he had made himself a tool, which at one end held jagged thorns. Baeloc was ready to attempt again to snag his prize. With the new tool, it only took him two tries to snare the pack. As he pulled it toward him, its strings gave some resistance before coming untangled. He was home free. Four feet…three feet…two feet….

  RIPPP!!!

  The thorn punctured the fabric of the bag and suddenly cut through the material, opening a huge hole. Water began to claim the contents. Baeloc screamed and quickly reached for whatever his hand could grab. The stick fell in the river as he pulled back his prize. As he tumbled over into the grass, whatever he had claimed from the sack sliced into his arm.

  Baeloc dropped the object as his hand went to his new injury. It was a small cut, but blood trickled from the slice. He put the arm in his mouth and licked the wound. As his adrenaline rush receded, he looked for the object that caused his injury. In the grass lay…he wasn’t sure what it was. It looked like a fragment of something made of dark material.

  Taking his arm from his mouth, he crawled over to it and looked down. It lit up with an intense blue light, blinding him. But as his eyes adjusted, the light was comforting, soothing, and blissful. The surface of the mirror had become smoky, and through the swirl and light came a face. It looked to be a nymph at first, but then it changed before him, a short crocodile snout, similar to his. The eyes morphed into those of a female kobold.

  Someone spoke to him, and he was at peace.

  ***

  “Taylon, wake up!”

  The captain jerked alert to Hazel’s cry. Sleep had not been kind to him, and he struggled to gain his senses. A hand shook him as his eyes opened. Hazel stood over him, a look of panic on her face.

  “I’m…up…what?”

  “She’s gone!”

  Taylon propped himself on his elbows and looked around. His mind had been on delay, so it took him a second to realize where he was. “What?” Taylon was on his feet in no time. He went to Euphoria’s tent, which lay empty.

  “Her horse is gone as well.”

  From his crouch he stood tall, hand over his brow looking for a sign of her in the distance.

  “I already looked before I got you. No sign,” Hazel said, beginning to scan again.

  The captain’s heart pounded as his mind put together scenarios of what might have happened and where the queen could have gone. He looked in the distance, deep in thought.

  “Where do you think she went?” Hazel’s voice held a hint of concern.

  Taylon finally turned to her, noting her eyes showed worry. “If I had to guess, probably toward the way we headed. Toward Zediah.”

  Hazel stared at where Taylon pointed. “But you have to make a turn again once you get so far. There is no going straight. If you go left, Zediah is close. If you go right….” Her voice trembled.

  “What is to the right?”

  The old woman paused for a moment before speaking. “Let’s hope she didn’t go right.”

  It took them less than five minutes to break camp. Morning meal was comprised of a few strips of beef jerky that they ate along the ride. It was thirty minutes before they came upon a sign; a sign that only told them they were on the right path.

  Taylon noticed a shape in the distance that didn’t fit with the landscape. Hazel approached first. Euphoria’s horse lay on the ground, eviscerated; its entrails drug out and partially eaten.

  The sight was horrific. Blood coated everything in a twenty-foot radius. As Taylon dismounted, he saw tracks from something he had never seen before. Human footprints were also scattered among the carnage.

  Hazel stayed on her horse. She goaded her mare to the side of the killing, looking to the west for clues. Taylon examined the horse and the surrounding area. It was brutal, but he had seen worse in his career.

  “Is Euphoria dead?” Hazel asked, finding nothing to the west.

  Taylon surveyed the corpse once more before answering. “I don’t think so, but I am not positive. Something attacked the horse. Some of this blood is not from it.”

  Hazel looked to the west again. “Zediah is this way, but these…animal tracks don’t lead anywhere near him.”

  Taylon looked at Hazel for a long time until he finally caught her eye. “I think you need to tell me about these predators you mentioned last night.”

  ***

  There was a tugging at his arm.

  “I don’t wanna get up.” The words rumbled across his lips. Fret splashed back. His mind did a double take when it felt the water. Hands came under one armpit and pulled. This time he felt himself move more, his back dragged against the ground. His senses started to come to. Fret felt wet and cold. His eyes creaked open, seeing water and branches as he soared upward. He had no sense of smell; his nose felt bloated. And the only thing he could hear was grunting noises.

  The water and branches disappeared from his sight as he fell to the ground. Slowly, he tried to recall what had happened previously, but with no luck. A face suddenly filled his view.

  “Boy, speak to me! Are you all right?” A couple of pats to the cheek and Fret’s eyes blinked again to focus. He wanted to speak, but as he tried, a great retching movement caused his body to arch up and roll to the side. Water came forth, foul and dirty, leaving his mouth sour and gritty.

  “What…where…Lyra!” It all came back to him crystal clear: the bridge, the pack, and then the water.

  Koelic shook Fret. “Come on. Snap out of it.” The shaking caused Fret to vomit more, his throat already burned from the stomach acid. He coughed and rolled completely over; grass tickled his teeth.

  “Stop.” He moaned. Even though muffled, the old man understood and backed off. It took Fret another five minutes to feel up to rolling to his back. Again, his vision was filled with the old man.

  “Are you all right?”

  Fret forced himself up and swatted the Mordock away. “Yes!” His head still felt uneasy but soon cleared as his bout with the bridge replayed in his mind.

  Koelic sat next to him. “We need to move to the other side.” The statement stumped Fret for a moment. He stared at the old man until it clicked in his head.

  “We’re in the Territories?”

  “Yes.”

  “But…how did you..?”

  “My boat.”

  “You have a boat?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I thought that was….”

  “I command, but
I rarely try to mislead.” Koelic looked offended that Fret could imagine the Mordock capable of lying.

  Fret saw hurt in the old man’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I just….”It was probably the first time in his life he had apologized to anyone. It took him a moment to realize what he had just done.

  Koelic shook his head. “We need to go. This side is not safe. Especially here.” The old man looked around as he tugged at Fret’s arm.

  Slowly, Fret got to his feet. His whole body felt wet and wrinkled. A sour grittiness filled his mouth. He tried to spit to get rid of it.

  Rrrrr….

  A low growling sound came from the forest brush nearby. Both humans looked in that direction.

  “To the boat…,” Koelic said as he quickly made his way down the shore, away from the area where the noise came. Fret was pulled along, still feeling woozy, bloated, and with a bad taste in his mouth. It reminded him of the time he broke into the local tavern and stole some ale. The stuff tasted like crap, but he had to show off for the other neighborhood boys and drank almost an entire jug. How he felt then and now were very similar.

  Rrrrr…!

  The sound intensified as they passed the spot where the growl came from. Something swiped at Fret’s foot as he passed the rumbling sound. A claw skinned the surface of his ankle, causing him to yelp and stumble. Fret rolled as he tumbled to the ground to see what had attacked him.

  A small bear cub’s head poked out from the brush, its face trying to hold a mean snarl. Koelic turned to help Fret up.

  “Hurry!” The old man’s voice was impatient. Fret had to laugh because the cub looked adorable, even though he would never admit it aloud.

  “It’s just a baby. What’s the rush?” He allowed himself to be brought to his feet but resisted the old man as he pulled for him to follow. The small bear grrred again, stepping out of the brush a little more.

  Fret shook off Koelic’s grasp and stepped closer to the bear, his hint of fear evaporating. The cub groped at Fret’s hands as they reached down to pick it up. It was a hefty thirty-pound cub, and for a moment, Fret thought he would lose his balance as he hoisted it off the ground. The bear struggled a bit, swiping at the air and baring its teeth, but hung limply after a good hard try.

  “See…” Fret began to turn with the cub outstretched to show the old man. “Harmless.”

  ROAR!!!!!

  The ground beneath them shook as the air rang with the violent cry. Just a short distance off, the forest uprooted itself as something charged. Suddenly, Fret knew why Koelic was concerned. Not because of the cub, but because the mother couldn’t be far behind.

  Fear froze the boy to the spot as all eyes, including the cub’s, stared at the charging mother. She stopped just shy of Fret and Koelic and launched herself up on two legs. The mother bear was a monstrous sight. She seemed to block out the newly rising sun.

  Fret panicked. His arms jerked, he threw the cub toward the river, and his legs did a complete reversal. He was four strides away when he heard the cub hit the water. Another roar shattered the air, and the ground pounded again. Fret ran, not looking back, not caring if Koelic or the cub were okay. He just ran.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gantha never dreamed being a high council member for the elfin race would mean dressing in tattered, smelly garments and pretending to be possessed. But he found himself in that position, stumbling through the forest after Lourak.

  Ra’na joined them as a guide. She knew the location.

  “I’ll stay back when we come to the place,” Ra’na said, waving away Lourak, who protested.

  “Aye can find this wizard thingy.” Lourak, too, could have found the place, but he had had a bit too much of the magical dark elf’s mead the previous night. He still stumbled through the forest as they neared the spot.

  “Explain again why possession?” Gantha complained. His foot caught on a vine, causing him to misstep and knock into the dwarf. Lourak gave him a sour look back but said nothing. Ra’na hid her smile.

  “We are trying to play on his sympathies, if he has any. Sickness and mental illness usually invoke a caring heart with humans, based on what I have read. Since those are usually healed by alchemists, the next best symptom for magical healing would be possession.”

  “Uh-huh….”

  “Just shuddup an’ keep stridin’,” Lourak grumbled.

  Ra’na smiled. “Hush, you. You’ll be fine soon.”

  “Yar…when da trolls stop dancin’ on me head.”

  Gantha nodded meekly. Last night, from the way the dwarf had raved, the elf wished he had sampled the mead. Now in retrospect, Gantha counted his blessings.

  “But why the rags and the smell? Did you have to rub me down with manure?”

  “I might have done that too well.” She held her nose on Gantha’s behalf and then laughed. “Most deranged folk do not take care of themselves. Spirits or demons are usually not concerned with cleanliness. They are more concerned that they have gotten a physical form. More evil can be spread physically than in their prior state.”

  The councilman groaned. After a few more minutes of hiking, they reached a clearing. Ra’na stopped them both and pointed to a large tree.

  “That is his door.”

  Both dwarf and elf looked at it in a moment of silence.

  “It’s a tree,” Gantha said.

  “But he lives there.” Ra’na rummaged in her satchel.

  “In a tree?”

  “I think he lives under it.” Ra’na pulled out a piece of paper.

  “Under a bloody tree?” Lourak stated in outrage.

  “So?” Ra’na didn’t seem too concerned.

  “But it’s a tree!” the dwarf persisted.

  “So. Dwarves live in a cave underground.”

  Lourak turned and pointed a finger up at her. “That’s only ’cause we’re miners. It’s where the riches are.”

  Ra’na smiled and let the conversation drop. She stepped closer to Gantha and held out the paper. He took the note and looked at it. “What…?”

  “I did a little research with my contacts and found that this might be the incantation for the door to materialize. Sort of like a magical doorbell.”

  Gantha stared down at the paper until the dwarf snatched it away. “Aye’ll do it. He’s possessed.”

  “No, Gantha needs to say it. One needs magic in order to ring a magic doorbell.” Ra’na stepped forward and took the paper back. She handed it to Gantha, ignoring Lourak as he swore at her. “I’ll be just over here if you get into any trouble.”

  Slowly both dwarf and elf approached the large tree. Lourak grumbled under his breath as Gantha read from the paper. It had been a while since he had read magic, but it came back to him quickly. As he finished the last word, an outline of a door appeared in the trunk of the tree. Both stared at it for a moment.

  Gantha looked back to Ra’na for advice when nothing else happened. She mimed a knocking. Lourak took it upon himself to do this part. “Make sure ye play yer part,” he whispered.

  Again, a long moment passed, but then suddenly the door slid away, revealing dark space. At first Gantha thought no one had answered the door, but the dwarf’s reaction showed otherwise.

  “A bloody rabbit?”

  Sure enough, a large rabbit sat in the doorway looking at them. It was the color of snow, but something about it was unusual. Gantha stood mutely, at a loss for words. He looked at Lourak, who seemed befuddled.

  “Is this the wizard?” Gantha whispered.

  “It’s a rabbit. Could be my lunch.” The dwarf’s hand started to reach back for his battle-ax.

  “I am nobody’s lunch, you nasty little man!”

  Councilman and dwarf stood stunned as the rabbit spoke. Silence passed between them as it became a staring contest. Gantha again leaned down to whisper, “A talking rabbit?”

  “Bit on the obvious side, are ye?” Lourak sneered at the elf. He turned back to the rabbit.

  “A might pardon fer my offense.
Had too much elfin mead.” The dwarf smiled, but it came off looking clumsy and a bit creepy. Silence passed again, eyes staring at each other.

  Finally the rabbit spoke. “The wizard Ynob is not accepting clients. Please be on your way.”

  The words hung there without response. Gantha totally forgot his role. “But we must see the wizard.”

  All the rabbit did was look at the elf with unsympathetic eyes. It said nothing.

  Lourak spoke again. “Yar, the matter is of dire need.” The rabbit turned its head toward Lourak and stared.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you need?” As soon as the rabbit said this, Gantha remembered he was supposed to be playing a part.

  “This ’ere elf is possessed.” Lourak raised his hand up toward the councilman, trying to cue his performance. Gantha missed the mark. The rabbit turned its head to look at Gantha. A moment later he went into his act.

  “Blau, blau, blau, blau….” His face drooped so he slurred his words as his hands waved in the air, sometimes patting his head. After about a thirty-second performance, he stopped. The rabbit continued to stare.

  “Uh-huh.” It turned its eyes upon the dwarf again. “The only thing this man needs is a bath.” The rabbit sniffed the air. “Make that two baths and a decent set of clothes.”

  Gantha tried to hide his surprise, shocked his performance hadn’t convinced the rabbit. Lourak stared at the rabbit. “So, we can’t see the wizard.”

  “Nope.”

  “And if aye persist.” Lourak tried to hide his smile as he said this.

  “That’s why I’m here,” the rabbit proclaimed confidently.

  The dwarf tried to hold back his laugh but only caught part of it. He began to sneak his hand back towards his ax.

  SCHUNK!

  Instantly the rabbit transformed and leaped at Lourak, forcing him back to the ground. Instead of a rabbit on top of the dwarf, a young woman pinned the little man down a few feet from the doorway. Long, white hair fell to either side of her face as her gray-brown eyes stared intently into Lourak’s.