Rick Cook - Wizard’s Bane

"Come this way. Quickly." The little being turned and skipped through the undergrowth. Moira started to follow but Wiz caught her arm. "Trap?" he panted.

Moira scowled and shook off his hand. She hurried after the little man, who was dancing with impatience.

Wiz was half-blown when they started, but he pushed ahead gamely. The trail led through glades and over ridges until at last they arrived at the base of a hill. As their guide approached, a rock rolled away and pale golden light flooded out into the dark.

"Enter and be welcome," said a melodious male voice from within.

Again Moira started forward and again Wiz caught her arm.

"Didn’t you tell me to avoid places like this?"

"Would you rather the trolls and Dire Beasts?" she snapped. Wiz nodded and followed her into the hill.

"May there be peace upon you. May you leave the woes of the World behind," the voice said, as if reciting a formula.

"May there be confusion to our enemies and may we return to the world we know," Moira said firmly into the air.

"May it be so," responded the voice and their host seemed to step out of the wall of the tunnel to them.

He was tall, graceful and silver-haired. His eyes were so blue as to be almost purple and his skin was the color of milk. Wiz could see the blue veins underneath.

He wore a long tunic of scarlet, intricately worked, and a collar of beaten gold. His belt was dark leather decorated with bronze the length around.

"My Lady," he bowed to Moira. "My Lord," he nodded to Wiz.

"My Lord." Moira dropped a deep curtsey.

"My Lord," Repeated Wiz and made a clumsy bow. He barely noticed that the rock had slid silently back across the entrance, sealing them within.

Their host regarded them serenely. "I am called Aelric. I am duke of this place and I bid you welcome here."

"We thank you for your hospitality, Lord," Moira said. "I am called Moira and this one is called Sparrow."

Duke Aelric looked narrowly at Wiz. "Ahhh," he said simply, but with a world of meaning.

"You have heard of us then, Lord?"

"A mite." The elf duke made a languid gesture. "But there will be time for talk later. I hope you will do me the pleasure of dining with me this evening."

"We would be honored, Lord," Moira said.

"Let it be so then." Duke Aelric snapped his fingers and their guide capered out and bowed low to his master.

"Most dread Lord, most gracious Lady, if you will deign to follow me?" The little creature turned and moved down the tunnel. Duke Aelric touched his fingertips to his forehead and faded back into the rock. Wiz gaped until Moira jabbed him with her elbow. Then he followed her and their guide down the corridor.

Wiz’s shoes squeaked on tessellated marble floors inlaid in fantastic patterns. Over his head columns of scarlet and gold soared upward until lost in the gloom. Here and there an elaborately carved lantern cast a gentle yellow glow through its alabaster panes, making the light more mellow rather than brighter. Occasionally the glint of gold added accent and unostentatious richness to their surroundings.

They passed down stately corridors, through tapestry-hung halls and up sweeping curving staircases, yet they saw no one. Not even a faint, distant footstep or the furtive motion of a curtain dropping into place showed that there was anyone in the huge underground palace but themselves and their tiny guide.

At last they came to a massive door, twice their height and finely carved. The elf placed his hand on the intricately worked handle and pushed gently.

The door swung open to reveal a spacious, richly appointed room. It was more brightly lit than the rest of the palace and the carved and gilded lanterns along the walls cast a warm light on the furnishings of pale brown wood and heavy silken hangings the color of chrysoberyl. The ceiling was painted the blue of a summer sky and spangled with glittering golden stars. Lines of silver traced out the shape of unfamiliar constellations. The air was heavy with the scent of roses and lilies.

"My master bids you be comfortable," the elven major-domo squeaked. "There will be time to rest and bathe before dinner. My Lady’s chamber is to the right," he swept a bow in that direction, "and my Lord’s is to the left. Peace and repose be unto you." With that he bowed out.

"Wow," said Wiz as he looked around at the splendor. "This is really something."

"Elves contrive to live well," Moira said, laying her cloak onto an elegantly proportioned table and sinking down onto a silken cushion of the palest blue in the chair next to it.

"All right!" Wiz said and dropped onto a couch nearby.

Moira removed the ribbon from her hair and shook out her flaming locks. Wiz watched, enthralled.

"It was brave of you to save me from the trolls," she told him. "You gave me my life at the risk of yours and I thank you for it."

The words were sweet, but her tone was used to thank a stranger for a service. Moira was sincere and grateful, but that was all. She had been warmer to the man from the village, Wiz thought.

"It was nothing, Lady," he said uncomfortably.

"It was, and again I thank you."

Wiz did not reply. "Lady," he said finally, "may I ask you a question?"

"Since you must."

"I mean we won’t be overheard or anything will we?"

"We will almost certainly be overheard, although mayhap Duke Aelric is too noble to pry into the affairs of his guests. Question if you must, but guard your tongue."

"Where is everyone? I mean, does Aelric live here all alone?"

Moira shrugged. "I doubt it, for elves are social creatures. But the place cold be aswarm with elven folk and we might see none. All elves have the trick of not being seen when it pleases them."

"Why did Aelric help us? Are the elves allied against the League?"

Again the shrug. "Allied against the League? No. Elves ally with none and barely notice what mortals do to each other. His Grace acted for his own reasons and those are beyond conjecture. Barring war or murder, elves are deathless and they fill their years with contests and rivalries among themselves. They play deep and subtle games with their own kind and meddle seldom in the affairs of mortals. Perhaps we are part of such a game."

"Well, as long as he’s willing to put us up, we can be whumpuses for all I care."

"What’s a whumpus?"

"An imaginary animal." Wiz lay back on the couch and started to put his feet up before looking at his muddy shoes and thinking better of it. "Now what?"

"Now we had best make ready for dinner." Moira rose from the chair. "This is your room, I believe."

The bedroom managed to be magnificent, simple and cozy all at once. The canopied bed was made of some rich dark wood crafted in sleek, almost modern, lines and polished until it glowed a warm reddish brown. The sheets were tan and the thick comforter was a pale russet. The lighting was soft and indirect, brighter than the twilight the elves seemed to prefer but not as bright as the sitting room. The bed looked so inviting Wiz nearly sank down onto it, but he knew if he got comfortable he’d never be ready for dinner. He had a strong feeling it would not do to keep Aelric waiting.

The bath beyond was walled in pink-veined marble set with gold. In the center of the room was a sunken tub of steaming water, fragrant with herbs.

Wiz moved toward it, pulling at his shirt.

He had the shirt over his head when soft warm hands touched his bare back.

"Hey!" Wiz tried to turn, but the hands restrained him gently and helped him get the shirt off. With his head free, Wiz turned, but the room was empty.

"What is this?"

The only answer was a very feminine giggle as someone started to undo his belt. He looked down and saw nothing, yet his belt was unhooked and fingers began to unzip his fly. Instinctively he reached down to knock the invisible hands away, but he met only air. Again someone or something giggled.