Ben - 2. Chapter 2

“We just can’t walk in there and take him back,” Karn said. They were in a small hollowed out chamber in one of the dwarf’s unused drifts. There were thick rugs and pillows to sit on and refreshments, as dwarfs were rather big on refreshments. “They won’t release him unless we have someone or something to trade.”

“I can’t ask anyone to take Ben’s place,” Gregor said. The negotiations for the dwarfs assistance was going longer than he hoped. Karn, the superintendant of the local mine, seemed to be in no hurry at all. “That’d be tantamount to asking someone to die for me. I’m not a king, I’m just a sorcerer.”

“And a mighty one at that, you fail to honor yourself too much, lad,” Karn said as he refilled their tankards with dwarf ale, which is thicker than regular ale but packs the punch of whisky. “No, I’m thinking of something different. I’m thinking we might need a dragon.”

“Percy? He’ll never agree to change back into a dragon,” Gregor said, remembering how Percy came to him a few years earlier asking to be turned into a man so he could marry Deirdre, his maidservant. They had two children, already, with another, their first boy, on the way. Luckily, Deirdre’s younger sister, Pauline, agreed to live with them and help with the children.

“I don’t think you’ll have to change him back,” Karn said. “I think he still has the magic to make flame.”

“No way!” Gregor exclaimed.

“Way! Probably it’s still far back in his mind, but it’s there,” Karn said after a long swallow of ale. “You’ll have to ask him. If he’s the dragon I believe he is, he’ll do it.”

“I thought adult humans can’t go into the netherworld,” Gregor said, then remembered he’d been in there and he was an adult male, too. “Excuse me, normal adult humans.”

“He’s not normal, either,” Karn said. “You have to give him that. There’s still dragon blood in that man. He’ll likely go, if you give him the chance.”

“Well, I suppose I can at least ask him,” Gregor said. He wanted to get in there, now, but one never went into the netherworld without purpose or destination. A person, including a sorcerer, could get lost, too easily. He needed dwarf assistance on this, so he had to have another tankard of dwarf ale. Luckily, he was a sorcerer and alcoholic beverages had little effect on him. He very much wanted to get out of the mountain and across the veil. “But, I doubt he’ll agree to join us.”

“Oh, and you’re not going,” Karn said.

It was as if a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown on Gregor. He was stunned at the suggestion he was not to be a party to his son’s rescue.

“You’re too valuable to risk being killed by an elf or one of their agents,” Karn said. “We’ll have enough trouble protecting Percy, let alone having to worry about you.”

“But I can practically lead you to them,” Gregor said. They couldn’t leave him, not for this. “I went into a trance and saw where the troll took Ben. I’ve been to the orchard.”

“Why didn’t you bring him back?” Karn asked incredulously.

“I can’t see where they have him hidden. It’s as if there is stronger magic preventing me going into the orchard. The troll is dead. The gnomes killed him.”

“By now, they’ll have branded your Ben, too,” Karn said sadly. “You might never be able to see Ben because of the gnome’s ownership brand, but don’t worry, dwarfs have done this before, so we’ll get him back all safe and sound.”

“You’ve successfully rescued humans before?” Gregor asked happily.

“Uh, no, not human children, gnomes’ll take dwarf young’uns, too, if something can convince them that mining isn’t in their future. Dwarfs, though never come back, as they change into gnomes if you don’t get to them in time. Even then it’s not always successful because of the poison in the brand. There’s a chance Ben won’t be quite right when we bring him back, but I’m sure you’ll or the mistress will figure out some kind of poultice to draw out the poison. Now, off you go to ask Percy. We’ve dilly-dallied too long and need to get across the veil before the zenith.”

* * * * * * * * *

Being a sorcerer did have its advantages besides the magic; one didn’t have to do a lot of long distance walking. A mere thought was enough to take Gregor from one place to another. In this case, the thousand yards to the adit and then the nearly full league to Percy and Deirdre’s farm on the west side of the valley took approximately the time it takes all of the neurons to fire to make it happen.

Percy, formerly a dragon of considerable size, was now a man of average height with average features, though he was a bit stronger than most men his size. Gregor had once seen Percy heft a dray horse over a stone wall rather than lead the beast a quarter-league to the nearest gate. Then there was the hog slaughter when Percy went into the sty and picked up the unlucky pig for the day, threw it over his shoulder and calmly walked over to the tub where he gave it a good washing. Eating unclean pork just wasn’t good for you or your guests.

Percy was out moving hay from one pile into two more to be ready for sheaving and lofting for the winter. If they had help, either from Edwina and the children, or a couple of the older boys from the orphanage lower down the valley, he’d split those two piles into four or more if necessary.

“You know, Gregor, it still unnerves me when you appear like that,” Percy said dropping the pitchfork. “This must be important, as you usually appear over behind the barn and walk over to me. What’s up?”

“Ben has been taken across the veil and is being held by gnomes,” Gregor said, trying to sound like a sorcerer and not like a distraught father whose son has been kidnapped by mean, evil beasties from another world.

“You mean those short little beings in the colored hats that tidy up the garden?” Percy asked with a frown.

“No, in the netherworld they enslave little boys and work them until they’re too old,” Gregor said, sounding even more desperate, if that was possible. “Then they’ll sell them to elves and you know what elves do with humans.”

“You want me to go, don’t you?” Percy asked. His secret was going to get out, if he went with Gregor across the veil. “You know I can still do it, the fire I mean. Deirdre yells at me when I do, but the children get a kick out of it.”

“First of all, I’m not going,” Gregor said with a frown. “The dwarfs won’t let me. Karn is leading the party. There will be the pixies, of course, but I suspect there will be other beings, too. I don’t exactly know the plan. I’m to stay here to figure out a poultice to pull the gnome poison out of Ben, but I’m also going to find a way in as a sorcerer. I might be able to do something else.”

“When do we leave?” Percy asked.

“Now, Karn says you have to cross the veil before the zenith” Gregor said. He went up to his friend and hugged him. “Thank you. Now, go give Deirdre the bad news. I’ll wait for you outside.”

In only a few minutes, Percy returned and Gregor swept them up to the cottage.

“I wish I could go with you,” Gregor said.

“No, you stay here, see if the scrolls can help,” Percy said. “Maybe when we get there, you’ll have already rescued him.”

“I can’t get into the orchard, but I gave Karn the location if he doesn’t know it already,” Gregor said. “He knows the tribe. From what he said, they are the worst of the worse, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to find a way through their magic. Maybe they just need a few bursts of lightning amongst their trees.”

* * * * * * * * *

Ben, or rather Dirt as he was now called, worked among the walnut trees picking up whatever fell from them such as dead leaves, broken twigs, bits of lichen, the occasional bird dropping congealed in the soft sandy loam, or the walnut husks, which were disposed of, too. The gnomes revered the trees, tended the trees, gave the trees whatever they needed, but had no use for walnuts. If something fell on the ground, it was Dirt’s job to clean it up.

Young gnomes, just a dangerous as the older ones who put the poison in him, guarded the younger human and pointed him to his daily tasks. They also kept a close eye on him lest he slip across the veil in an attempt to get back home.

Slipping across the veil wasn’t so much an action performed, but a perception changed. You were in the real world, full of the realities of life, death, heat, cold, rain, snow, bright sunlight, bright moonlight, the dark of night, the dark in the middle of a thunderstorm, and all the other actualities that told you this is the real world; and, suddenly you slipped into the netherworld where the dim light was the same everywhere, all the time; there was little rain, some dew, no sun, no night, but the dim light of day was there all the time.

Ben had slipped across the veil with his father and Unger, but he’d always done it holding their hand. It had been more of being pulled across, rather than doing it himself. Yet, he knew, from the few times he’d done it, the action was simply like walking through an open doorway. Yet, you couldn’t actually see the other room, but, still, you simply walked into it assuming it was there. The problem was getting your mind to accept the fact you could do that. Dirt wasn’t sure he could do it without help and that, alone, kept him locked in the netherworld.

At night, or rather during the time the gnomes called night, Dirt was kept in an iron barred cage that hung from a large tripod of iron posts by means of chains and pulleys. There was a wooden floor in the cage. A bucket where he did his business was kept in one corner and he dumped it in a cesspool every morning before going to work. A large bowl containing a thick gruel and a large cup of water were given to him morning and evening. At lunchtime, he was given another large cup of water and a tasteless, dried biscuit that turned to a pasty substance in his mouth.

Every day, every night was the same for Dirt. If he didn’t work hard enough, he was beaten. If he complained, he was beaten. And, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, if he dreamt of home and Papa, Mummy, Trudy, Bea, Margo, Rubiette, Percy Deirdre, Harold the raven ghost, or even Exetor the pixie he was beaten the following morning. It was as if the gnomes knew what he was thinking.

Yet, Dirt grew stronger, heavier, and older. Time passed differently in the netherworld. Soon elves would arrive and a price agreed upon; and, Dirt would become Ben, again, for only a brief time before he was devoured in an orgiastic fest of gnashing teeth, tearing flesh, and screaming beyond belief, as elves didn’t kill or cook humans before eating.

* * * * * * * * *

Seven fully armed pixies stood under the great oak when Gregor arrived with Percy. A short time later, three dwarfs came trudging around the mountain from the direction of the orphanage. Gregor looked at them suspiciously.

“We dug a tunnel around the mountain and installed an adit with a magical door over yonder ways,” Karn said pointing back from where they’d come. “This is Horn and Timo, they’re for the dragon. That leaves the rescue primarily to myself and the pixies. Is this agreeable?”

“Yes,” chimed the pixies.

“I see our number is eleven,” Karn said. “Seven pixies, auspicious indeed, and four to make it eleven, luck is with us. Gregor, I’m sorry you cannot join us.”

“I’ll be there,” Gregor said with a wink. “In fact, I’ll be working on a rescue myself. If I get him out before you arrive, I’ll pull you out.”

“Save the dragon, first,” Exetor the pixie said. “He is in the most danger across the veil.”

“Yes, save the dragon,” Karn said. “We have ways to save ourselves.”

“Let us be off, the zenith nears,” Exetor said.

They all took a step forward and disappeared across the veil and, other than the dwarfs who are the same wherever they are, the other members of the party changed. In the real world pixies are about a hand’s width tall. Across the veil, they dramatically increase in size into a being taller than a human male, plus much more bulky, most of which is pure muscle. They’re just as mean as in the real world, but now have the strength to back up their prowess with all kinds of dirks, swords, spears, and pikes.

They also had the dragon, which quite remarkably changed back to a dragon once Percy stepped across the veil. Whether any of the other members of the party knew it, Percy knew what was going to happen as he’d done it a number of times to chase down a few gremlins who had been mucking around his farm equipment and two minor elves—distinguished from major elves by being about knee high to a small child, mostly vegetarian, and enjoyed thieving crops of human farmers—who came looking for a bag of grain and left with a bucket full of apples.

Of course, a dragon in the netherworld isn’t the same as a dragon in the real world. It’s mostly a matter of physics. The real world is bound by specific physical laws which fairly well explain how things are, or should be if human eyes didn’t see upside down, in not enough colors, and with a brain that was simply too logical. The netherworld has assumptions particular to specific beings. Dwarf, elves, gnomes, pixies, nymphs, fairies, gremlins, goblins, trolls, and a few rarer beings such as the aloo, which inhabits dark lakes and ponds and pulls at the feet of hapless swimmers, have their own view of the netherworld. For most, it’s a two-dimensional place where travel forward might be hindered, but sideways movement is never hindered. Up is not an option, as is down. Sound travels sideways, the light is always dim, and it never snows or, rather, that’s what most beings think. Ask a troll or a common snow snake and you’ll get a completely different answer.

Dragons perceive the netherworld as a crystal sphere. They are inside the sphere and everything else is outside on the surface. Much like the aloo, it is simply a matter of reaching up and plucking their victim down in a dragon’s dimension. The gremlins, hardheaded and obnoxious beings, were unreasonable and had to be dealt with in a traditional dragon manner, i.e., toasted to a golden brown and crunched in itty-bitty pieces before swallowing. To a dragon, gremlins are like a savory mushroom roasted on a spit. The pathetic minor elves stood before the dragon and widdled on themselves as they pushed the bucket of apples toward Percy.

“Two’ve been eaten,” Percy said.

“Don’t eat us, please,” one of the elves begged miserably.

“Who ate the apples?” Percy asked. He lowered his scariest dragon eye close to them and watched them widdle, again, in fear.

“Both of us,” the other elf said. “We had to test them to see if they were ripe.”

“Okay, now that you know what you’re dealing with,” Percy said. “I don’t expect to see anymore of you wee elves at my farm. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the first elf said.

“Oh, yes, yes, sir,” the second said.

“Clean up and get home,” Percy said. He picked out four apples from the bucket. “Here, you can have these.”

Then he stepped back and was a man, again.

That was why the dwarfs were surprised when they all crossed the veil and ended up inside the dragon’s crystal sphere. Luckily, the dwarfs knew where they were going and now having a dragon meant not having to walk there. What they were going to do once they got there, neither the pixies nor dwarfs had a clue. The dragon on the other hand knew exactly what was going to happen.