Tickling the Dragon's Tail

  “My Lady,” said Anson. “Have you ever seen any elvenkind?”

  Corissa said that she had not and granted there could be small-sized people who inhabited this area, so she relented somewhat, though stopping short of apology. “I meant no offense. Like most people, I had grand ideas about the wonder of High Mages and Elf-Lords. But after my time with you, those skilled in magery seem more like common folk than different. The practice of magic holds less wonder for me now, and I expect the elves are little more than a small collection of wispy fellows whose lives are made mysterious by living in this secretive place.”

  “Here, here! The lady makes a good point.” Nevin said, with a wave.

  Corissa responded with a shake of her head.

  Anson was growing impatient at the delay. “If we can agree to use this horn, My Lady, you may soon find out. What do you say, Nevin?”

  Nevin shrugged. Orris still thought it was too risky, leaving Corissa with the deciding vote. As she gave her vote to blow the thing, Anson already had the horn out of his pack. Raising it to his mouth, he produced an unexpectedly loud and high-pitched blare. The horses pawed the ground as they waited. Anson blew again with no results.

  “What are we waiting for?” asked Nevin.

  “Another horn blast in return, I expect,” answered Anson. He raised the horn to his lips to blow again when they heard someone say, “That is enough, Mage. You will cause the leaves to fall from the trees if you keep blowing. We have had you in sight for some time.”

  They all looked behind them where Zael appeared less than twenty feet away, walking out of the gorse toward them. He was not armed, but Nevin was sure there were others around who were.

  Corissa gave a short but audible gasp at the sight of the Elf-Lord, then quietly uttered, more to herself than for others to hear, that she should be more willing to believe the stories of legend.

  “Why did you call?” Zael asked.

  “We need some help getting to the Gilsum border,” Nevin answered.

  Zael pursed his lips and reflected for a moment. “You have much to explain before we would give you such help. Follow me. There is a place near here where you can dismount and we can talk more easily.”

  In single file, they followed Zael for a distance that Nevin estimated at three hundred yards. Zael made his way without difficulty as if a path seemed to exist where none could be seen, making it much easier to guide the horses. They came upon a small grassy hillock so undetectable that the first rider could see it but the second could not.

  “Dismount and join me over there. Your horses will be looked after,” said Zael, pointing to a very large oak tree. No sooner had the riders stepped to the ground when several camouflaged elves appeared out of cover to take the reins of the horses.

  The band of four sat on the ground as Zael sat with his back to the tree, one leg slung over the other. Corissa started to explain that they were a delegation from the Farmer’s Grange to meet with local tenant farmers, but was curtly interrupted by Anson.

  “No, My Lady. We must speak the truth to Zael. We do not have to fear him as we do our human fellows.” Zael looked at Anson but remained impassive, giving no indication whether he appreciated the mage’s truthfulness or resented Corissa’s fabrication.

  Zael said nothing for some time after Anson finished explaining the entire story of their mission.

  Trying hard to control her impatience, Corissa finally blurted, “Will you help us or not?”

  Zael barely turned his head toward her to respond. “Lady, would you be so impudent with your King Lucan? I think not. You should show the same respect when in another’s kingdom. I have heard your request and I will give you an answer when I am ready. I must first finish hearing the views of my elves.”

  Nevin frowned slightly because no one seemed to be within earshot.

  Zael let a faint smile slip across his face. “Yes, Large One. There are elves around you. More than one hundred. Some only a spear’s length away.”

  Nevin believed it. And it would not require “magic” to explain it. These odd little fellows were masters of camouflage and it was entirely possible they could communicate at a sound pitch that was inaudible to him.

  Zael finally nodded his head as if a conversation ended. “My elves are divided over your request. We do not like humans roaming about our Wood and it matters not to us whether the Red Shirt soldiers kill off the Blue Shirts or the other way ‘round. We have always been uninterested in the affairs of humans.” Zael’s impassive face changed slightly, giving away some consternation. “Despite the opinions of many of my elves, I must change from what would be our usual course. We are drawn into your conflict. Let me tell you what happened one night ago.

  “There is a small human village called Dalbo which borders our Wood and also lies close to the Gilsum border. The Red Shirts of Gilsum attacked Dalbo and took several human lives, but there were greater concerns for us from the fires that nearly spread to our Wood, and, worst of all, a change occurred in the air before the attack. Borne on the wind was a poison that spread over Dalbo and blew into the Wood. It had a foul, acrid smell and was deadly to breathe. One elf has died and others remain ill. The trees and grass are smitten with a yellow dust that kills the leaves and burns at the touch.”

  Zael hesitated for a moment. His impassivity gave way to a look of sorrow as he finished the story about the attack on Dalbo. After lowering his head for an instant to recover his lordly composure, he faced Anson and quietly asked, “Tell me, Mage. Was this spellwork? And what can be done to shield us from these effects?”

  Anson knelt forward and faced the Elf-Lord. Without speaking, there was no doubt that Anson shared the sorrow felt by Zael. This act seemed to raise a hopeful look from Zael. Anson said, “I have also experienced this fouled air, Zael. It is not the work of magery, but of alchemy. Sir Nevin is more knowledgeable and can tell you more.”

  “Speak then, Sage. Tell me what I asked.”

  “Your people experienced something we call ‘gas warfare,’” Nevin explained. “It was probably made by some method of combining solutions...uh, potions you might call them, made from powders mixed with water. The vapor forms when the potions react together and is spread by the wind. The yellow residue of dust makes me think it was some type of mustard gas, which is lethal unless highly diluted. It would have to be concocted by someone who really knew what he was doing. The worst is over, though. This dust will wash into the soil with the next rain and there should be no permanent damage to the trees. I am very sorry this harmed your people, Zael. It’s possible that elves are especially sensitive to these chemicals. As far as shielding yourself, once you smell the gas it is too late. The best thing you can do is get up-wind from an impending attack and avoid an area that becomes contaminated until the wind disperses the gas.”

  “What can be done to aid those who remain ill?”

  Nevin knew at least one mode of treatment that should help. “If they are experiencing internal reactions like stomach cramps or nausea they should drink lots of water, as much as they can take. Cold water is preferable, the colder the better. This will flush out the chemical. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what to do for external reactions.”

  “Would their skin turn red and burn, Nevin?” asked Anson.

  Both Nevin and Zael nodded, with Nevin adding that severe blisters could also occur.

  The mage sighed with relief, “For that, the leaves of aloe lilies should provide an effective treatment. Zael, you must crush the leaves and smear the bitter ichor on the afflicted parts. If you cannot find these flowers, then burdock root is next best. To use burdock, you must first boil the root to make a strong liquor and swab it on the blistered skin.”

  Zael turned to his left and sharply spoke a few words unintelligible to the humans. After a final nod to his unseen listeners, he faced Nevin and the others again, this time with his eyes showing a hint of relief on his own part. “We will have to go outside the Wood to find the lilies because th
ey are not a growth we commonly see, but burdock is plentiful here. Your words have been passed on and will soon reach those in need near Dalbo.”

  Zael stood up and paced a bit before speaking, “Not only am I grateful for your council, but it seems we now share a concern over threats posed by the Red Shirts. I have decided to guide you myself to the Grayflood River, which you must cross to get to your destination in Gilsum. That is where I will leave you to finish your quest. You must leave your horses here because they would slow our progress. You will be under my command and must do as I bid. Is this acceptable?”

  Anson and Nevin were quick to say yes, as was Orris. Corissa hesitated until Anson convinced her that they were completely safe in the hands of the elves. By this time, several of Zael’s band had melted out of the brush and gathered around them. They seemed especially taken with Corissa and eyed her with admiration, which pleased Nevin but seemed to make the woman uncomfortable.

  “What of the horses?” Orris asked.

  “Some of my elves have already grown fond of them. Your horses will be well treated, surely better than the hard ride you planned for them.” Zael rose. “Hie, now! We have several hours before night and you expressed a need for haste. We should begin immediately.”

  The four from Antrim stood to follow the Elf-Lord, but before stepping out, Zael asked them a puzzling question. “What of your follower? Shall he join us openly?”

  Follower? No one knew what Zael meant.

  “The one who follows Anson. He is known to us as Gren. What men call a droll.”

  “Anson, do you know what he’s talking about?”

  “I know there are such beings and did encounter one some time ago, but…” Anson was equally puzzled.

  Zael smiled openly for the first time. “You must walk with your fingers in your ears if you were not aware that Gren followed you on your last visit to the Wood, as he follows you now.”

  Orris asked what seemed the obvious question, “Is he invisible?”

  Zael laughed this time. Nevin could also hear high-pitched tittering all around them and chuckled himself when he realized they had provided great amusement for all.

  Zael turned to his left, toward the direction they had walked. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out.

  “Gren! Come forward and show yourself so these travelers can see that you are flesh and bone.”

  All eyes looked toward in the direction of Zael’s call, but nothing seemed to be happening. Except for the hillock where they stood, it was impossible to see anything clearly through the forest growth until Anson was the first to detect some movement. The density of the trees and their dark coloration obscured any figures, but Anson was sure he saw something move. Someone was there, but was reluctant to leave the cover.

  “I see him!” Anson pointed and stepped toward the cover. “Zael, please bid him to come forward.”

  Zael pointed to a pair of elves, who sprinted into the thick cover. A minute later, they came back leading the “follower” out into the open. Each elf had hold of a hand, like two children trying to coax a large adult to come along. This mysterious being complied reluctantly as the elves pulled him forward until he stopped fast upon coming into full view of everyone. It was a striking sight to see the large creature being affectionately led by elves one-half his size. Corissa moved over to stand next to Nevin. Her eyes wide with astonishment, she said, “A third legend come to life.”

  Since his arrival in this land, Nevin had taken his introduction to elves and dwarves in stride. But this droll was a different matter. This creature, Gren, was at least six and a half feet in height. His head, chest and limbs were disproportionately large. Wearing only a ragged leather breech at the waist and a crude vest for clothing, his body was more or less covered with a thick mat of hair. Most distracting, however, were his facial features: a large mouth with a jutting lower jaw that displayed big incisors, thickly set lips and a bulbous nose. Nevin thought he looked like an oversized caricature of a figure he once saw in a Mardi Gras parade that was half clown, half ogre.

  Gren’s appearance was unnerving to Nevin and his cohorts, which was a sharp contrast to the reaction shown by the elves. As Gren shyly stepped closer, Nevin saw depth in his large sloe eyes that unmistakably revealed sentience and not some kind of demon or goblin. The elves obviously liked him. The pair that pulled him along affectionately encouraged him to come forward, one now pushing him from the rear.

  Anson understood the situation immediately. He knew that the droll’s reluctance stemmed in part from shyness, but also from a well-founded fear of humans. Anson went up to face Gren. Staring deeply into Gren’s eyes, there was a spark of recognition as the droll returned the gaze.

  “Are you the one?” asked Anson.

  No answer was needed after Anson lifted the vest to reveal the gruesome scar from a shoulder wound. Gren looked to Zael for a conversation that made the droll shake his head several times until he raised his arm in a wave that indicated some sort of concession.

  Zael and Anson turned to rejoin the others, except that a change had come over Zael. The sternness and acerbic tone that had characterized the Elf-Lord was gone, replaced by a look of compassion and soft words that bespoke admiration. Zael spoke so that all could hear.

  “Gren says that once he was attacked by humans and badly injured. He fell to the ground to die a slow and painful death when Anson discovered him. This mage treated the droll’s injuries, even pulled a crossbow bolt out of his shoulder. Gren says that Anson gave him a nectar that stopped the pain and gave him a peaceful sleep which lasted for two days. The sleep was full of a high pleasure which he had never known, and it gave him both time and the will to recover.”

  Zael was obviously touched by this story. The Elf-Lord looked back at Gren and continued to explain.

  “For reasons Gren does not understand, humans have always sought to kill and revile him. The kindness shown him by this mage stirred him to forgiveness, as it has me. I have found little to admire or learn from humans, but the gift of healing and goodness of heart this mage has shown is uncommon. It pleases me that I have chosen to aid humans who value compassion and show a true reverence for life.”

  Zael put a hand on Anson’s shoulder to show his respect and continued, “Gren wishes to travel with Anson and the others, as a protector and a guide. Does anyone speak against this request? If not, gather your packs and follow my lead. Take care not to stray from my path or you will suffer the obstacles and punishments the Wood offers uninvited travelers.”

  The packs had already been unloaded from the horses and handed to the members of the Alliance. Orris showed his comrades how to don the packs securely with the weight properly distributed. Zael watched over their preparations and restated his eagerness to move out. When they were finally ready, Zael gave the word to leave and strode off in the lead. Anson followed second, then Corissa and Nevin with Orris last in their file. There was no sight of any of the other elves or Gren, although Nevin had no doubt there were many moving in the same direction through the thick tree cover.

  After a short time, Zael urged them again to set a faster pace so they could reach his intended destination by dusk. “Night falls very quickly in the Wood. It will be much darker than the night you are accustomed to.”

  Nevin was surprised at the ease of the travel around the dense tree boles with briar, bramble and brush masking any trail. The file of travelers moved efficiently as long as they took the precise path taken by Zael. It was uncanny how he avoided tripping, or even being slowed by the fauna. In a few instances when Nevin veered to the right or left, he received numerous scratches from low branches and twice fell over unseen tree roots. Nevin soon learned to follow Zael’s steps exactly and kept pace for the hours they traveled until he was near exhaustion when the party finally stopped at dusk. They arrived at a circular glade about fifty yards in diameter. Nevin could barely make out dozens of small figures darting about, emitting a buzz of high-pitched conversation.


  When the line of weary travelers stopped, a pair of elves approached each of the humans to relieve them of their loads and show them to bedding areas that had been prepared under the canopy of an immense tree. Nevin was so tired that once he realized he had a bed of any type, he plopped himself into it, looked to see that Corissa and the others were nearby, then fell asleep without further thought of food or the interesting details of his surroundings.

  Chapter 4

  Trolls

  Two elves stood over the large sleeping human. After exchanging dubious looks, one of them carefully tried to wake the man by poking him. When the human did not stir, the second elf tried pushing on a shoulder to rouse him. Still unsuccessful, the two elves alternated efforts to wake the man Zael called the Sage, who reached out an arm as if to brush away a pesky fly.

  Corissa came upon this scene, laughing as the elves took turns jabbing and pushing, then scooting aside as Nevin’s arm flung out to shoo them away. “Nevin!” she called. “You’ll have to move more quickly to rid yourself of these elven flies. Come, it is time to rise. We need to be off soon. We have many leagues to walk today.”

  Nevin propped himself up on his elbows and squinted into the glare of bright sunshine.

  “Ohhh. My bones! Every one of my joints is sore. It can’t be time to leave already.”

  This time Nevin’s aches could not be blamed on uncomfortable bedding because a nest of leaves and boughs had been fashioned for each of the humans. It was the change from hard riding to hard walking that had put a strain on Nevin’s body.

  “Since you have the biggest bones, you are expected to suffer the greatest aches,” Corissa teased. “Come. You delay us. We have all been awake for more than hour.”

  Nevin blinked again at the morning sunshine. Through squinting eyes, he made sure it was Corissa he was hearing. Since when had she become so good-natured?