"I can see you're a force to be reckoned with. It seems a reasonable price. We'll pay it."
The elves murmured excitedly. The half-ogre quieted them down with a hard glare and pointed his spear at his feet. "Deposit your riches at our feet, and you may pass unmolested."
"Very well." Gwurm waved his hand at the spot. "Done."
The elves looked to their leader questioningly He glanced to the bare earth as if to see something that wasn't there. "What's this?"
"You said all our riches, every piece of gold, every scrap of silver, and worthless copper coin. Well, that's all of it."
This was true. None of our party carried money. Witches, ducks, and brooms had no need for it. And Wyst of the West, as a White Knight, had taken an oath of poverty. Trolls might carry a coin or two on occasion, but not this day.
The elves muttered among themselves, sorting through the flaw in their demands. Finally, the half-ogre pointed his finger at Gwurm and said, "Ah, but we said double!"
"Double of nothing is nothing," Gwurm explained. "But if you'd like, we can give you thrice of nothing."
"Oh, why not quadruple it," said Newt. "We can afford it."
"Why not?" Gwurm agreed.
Most of the elves were thrilled with the offer until their leader smacked a cohort with his spear. "You idiots." He raised his spear again, a gesture he seemed very fond of. "If you won't pay our toll, you'll face our wrath. You fools have no idea what you're facing."
"Pray tell, what might that be?" Gwurm inquired.
The half-ogre puffed out his chest that, by elf standards, was quite full but hardly threatening. He lowered his spear only to raise it again. "First, there is Yog. He can spit fire. Then there is Rof who can summon rocks from the sky when he sneezes. And Gok, able to change his shape at will into terrifying creatures you couldn't even comprehend. And Vop, well, Vop can talk to worms."
The half-goblin added, "And snails. Worms and snails!"
"Yes, Vop, yes. And snails." He switched his spear to his other hand without lowering the weapon. "And I, Doz the Mighty can bring life to the inanimate."
"Don't forget, Sof," an elf remarked.
"Hell's bowels, Gok. I was trying to keep him a secret."
"Sorry."
"Well, the damage is done. Sof, foolish full mortals, is our greatest weapon. He's invisible and can strike from anywhere, anytime. One by one, he can strike you down as your companions watch helplessly." He laughed. Unfortunately, elf voices are terrible for sinister cackling.
"Can I kill him?" Newt asked.
"Not yet." I patted his head. "Maybe later."
I glanced to Wyst. There was a trace of a smile on his lips.
"Strike now, my brothers!" Doz the Mighty shouted. "Show them what happens to those who defy us!"
The elves milled about their leader in a show of confusion.
Doz lowered his spear and ground his teeth. "What are you waiting for?"
"Uh... well, we've never struck before, Doz. We aren't sure how."
"Fine. I'll show you. You first, Rof."
Rof, who could summon rocks from the sky when he sneezed, stepped forward. He drew in a few quick breaths. His nose twitched. His head drew back. And nothing happened.
"Well?" Doz asked.
"I can't." His nostrils flared. "Maybe if my allergies were acting up."
"Fine, fine. Yog, roast them."
Rof stepped back dejectedly as Yog prepared to spit fire. He puckered up and spat. Flame dribbled from his lips and sizzled away at his feet. He hunched over, clenched his fists, and spat again. A gout of flame erupted from his mouth and blackened his face.
"Damn it, Yog. I thought you were practicing."
Yog was too busy beating out his smoking eyebrows to apologize.
Next came Gok the shape-changer. His attempt went smoother than his companions. In a flash, he transformed into a vicious wild boar. It had wicked tusks and crimson eyes and sharp hooves. Unfortunately, it was barely the size of a large rat. While Doz the Mighty berated Gok, Gok grunted in an effort to grow larger. He expanded to twice his size, belched, then shrank to half his previous volume.
"My turn," Vop the worm-talker announced. He stepped forward with bold determination.
"Step back, Vop."
The snail-talking elf backed away. Gok the shape-changer, who seemed trapped in his tiny boar form, retreated to the back of the group.
"I guess it's up to me." Doz the Mighty released his spear. It floated forward and hovered before Gwurm. "Now you'll know fear, fools. How will you fight a weapon that has no wielder?"
The spear danced about, jabbing at the troll without actually attempting to stab him.
"Now grovel before me, and I may spare your lives."
Gwurm grabbed the spear in one thick hand. The weapon twisted and trembled in his unbreakable grip.
"That's not fair! You can't do that! Let it go!"
Gwurm released it. The spear hopped back and shook angrily. It traced intricate patterns in the air with its point.
Penelope jumped from my hand and faced the spear. The broom caressed the spear up and down with her bristles. Doz's spear shivered, bowed to Penelope, and floated aside. She returned to my side.
"Stupid spear." Doz the Mighty folded his arms across his chest. "But there is one left. The last and most deadly of our band. That's right, Sof. Strike! Strike now!"
No strike came.
"Sof! What are you waiting for?"
Still, no strike came.
"Damn it, where's Sof?"
The elves offered a collective shrug.
"Who saw him last?"
They exchanged whispers.
Vop the worm-speaker said, "Uh, thinking on it, I've never seen Sof."
"Me neither," Rof the rock-sneezer said.
"Me either," Yog the fire-spitter added.
Gok the shape-changer, still a boar, snorted his agreement.
Doz the Mighty shook his head slowly. "Well, this is just embarrassing."
A sneeze came from the back.
"I did it! I did it!" Rof squealed with his elf voice.
The sky darkened. A shrill screech filled the air, and a monstrous red bird swooped from the sky.
"Aha!" Doz the Mighty thrust his hands high. "Now you shall see the grave errors of your ways!"
The roc swept from the sky, snatched up the band of elves, and soared away, quickly disappearing into the horizon. Only Doz's spear was left behind.
"Can we pass?" Gwurm asked.
A disembodied voice spoke. "Sure. Go ahead."
We bid Sof the Invisible and the spear a good morning and went on our way.
17
Though Wyst and i could go days without saying much of anything, we did exchange a few words over the course of our quest. Nothing of much importance from a questing perspective, merely polite salutations of "Good morning" and "Good night" with the occasional observation about the weather or scenery or some such other trifle. Though words were a wondrous invention, both tremendously practical and inexhaustible in supply, there was no need to waste them. The silence was contagious, afflicting both Newt and Gwurm. My broom and Wyst's horse were the only ones not noticeably affected.
The truth was, I wasn't at all comfortable speaking to Wyst for very long. I didn't trust my discipline. One unwitchly slip of the tongue could reveal too much of my growing affection for him, which was difficult enough to hide without saying anything. Too often I caught myself smiling at him or staring at the graceful sway of his full shoulders. Fantasies, both carnal and cannibal, fell into my mind without warning, and each seemed harder to dispel than the last. None of these symptoms truly surprised me, but I was startled by the suddenness of their severity.
I couldn't read Wyst's mind, but I caught him smiling at me as often as he caught me. I suspected, like my own smiles, there were many more times when I didn't catch him. Often his eyes seemed to wander, however briefly, up and down my body. Almost as if he could see the shapely form beneath my wrinkled gowns. Each passing day, I was less and less willing to dismiss these signs as products of my own desires. This led to an odd dilemma.