The Arsenal Files 6/The Arsenal Files 6 (Arsenal Computer).ISO/epub/df9601r.zip/DFJ

Text File | 1996-01-01 | 17KB | 398 lines

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THE SWILL
  by Michaela Marie Brandon
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  It was all Synth's fault. If the Imp hadn't suggested they
stop and spy on the nymphs in the field, he would have never
noticed Danetha.

  She was dancing the Nymphsong, her lithe form swaying gracefully
in the afternoon breeze. Alorgin had been instantly mesmerized. As
he laid down his trusty shield, he advanced into the open field.
The nymphs had run screaming for cover. Except for Danetha. She had
held her ground.

  "What do you seek," she'd asked in a musical voice.

  That was all it took to bespell him. He had foolishly pulled his
sword from it scabbard and held it aloft. Bending on one knee he
had dipped his head low in the usual form of supplication.

  "I seek to serve you, my queen," he pledged.

  And serving her he was. Only his 'queen' had tuned out to be
Danetha, consort to Kythnar, the evil Taginami leader. The very
same band of outlaws that had illegally imprisoned the Fleurlin.
The same band of outlaws that Alorgin had been sent to infiltrate
and dispatch, therefore freeing the Fleurlin from their decade long
enslavement.

  Now instead of rescuing them he found himself overseeing the
small band of Demi-humans as they worked in the Taginami Swill
mine.

  "Synth," Alorgin hissed, careful to keep his voice low. If he
was caught conversing with the small creature he would be in even
worse trouble. Since an Imp only communicated with their familiars
and an Imp's familiar was protected by the creature's magic, Danetha
would realize that her enslavement spell had only worked partially.
She directed his actions but his will had remained intact.

  The Imp appeared and instantly polymorphed into a spider.
Alorgin swiftly scooped up the small insect before anyone could
accidentally tread upon it. Placing Synth on his shoulder, he
switched to their chosen form of communication, telepathy.

  "_Did you find a cure?_" He asked impatiently.

  "_Yes and no,_" Synth replied. "_You must either slay Danetha or
she must release you from her spell, by her own volition. Those are
the only cures._"

  "_I cannot slay Danetha for she is my queen,_" Alorgin reminded
the Imp. "_Nor can I ask her to release me. That would give away my
secret and she would realize the ineptness of her enslavement_."

  "_Yes,_" Synth agreed. "_Then she would produce a spell so
strong that even I could not repel it._"

  Alorgin paced the mine shaft. How could he convince Danetha
to revoke her enslavement? If only he had not stopped to watch the
nymphs. Nymphs? He stopped dead in his tracks. What was a Taginami
queen doing frolicking with simple wood nymphs? Didn't the beautiful
adolescent creatures, shy away from foreigners?

  "_Synth, why would the wood nymphs allow Danetha to participate
in the Nymphsong?_"

  "_Only a nymph can dance the Nymphsong,_" came the Imp's reply.

  Alorgin smiled. If Danetha was indeed a nymph, there might still
be another cure. "Here's what I want you to do," he told Synth as
he began his trek down the mine shaft again.

                               *  *  *

  "Heave!" Alorgin bellowed as he cracked his whip against the
dirt covered ground. Swill dust billowed, threatening to overtake
the small group of Fleurlins, but still they did as they were told.
They had no other desire since both their actions and their will had
been bespelled by Kythnar. The Fleurlin only wanted to serve their
Taginami master and it was his wish that they follow Alorgin's
command.

  Suddenly a large Fleurlinian male screamed. He flailed his
reptilian arms as he flipped head over tail into the Swill pit.
The thick gray ooze slowly began sucking him under, his round head
barely visible through the unsettled Swill dust.

  "Doran, throw the rope across," Alorgin ordered quickly as he
moved to unleash the Preen. The greenish-blue snakelike creature
slithered to the edge of the Swill pool, waiting for Alorgin's
command to retrieve the fallen Fleurin.

  "Ropes out," hollered Doran as the rope settled across the huge
pit of precious slime.

  "Orschhh," he hissed at the awaiting reptile. The Preen undulated
across the rope and wrapped itself around the fallen Fleurinian's
upper torso. When the creature transmuted to a deep golden brown,
the other Fleurians began to haul their comrade out of the deadly
pit.

  Alorgin examined the demi-human as he was hauled out of Swill.
Like the other who had fallen in, his hide had changed from its
usual yellow to a dull blue. He gasped as he recognized the
Fleurian. It was Laygar, king Wilton's favorite huntsman.

  As the day went on, he kept an eye on Laygar. Though the
huntsman was careful not to fall into the pit again, he seemed to
hang closely to the grotesque slime. Alorgin noticed something else
too. Laygar seemed more alert, almost as though he now knew what he
was doing and did not enjoy it. But that would go against Kythnar's
spell, wouldn't it? Was it possible for the Swill to counter the
negative Taginami magic? If so, he might have part of his dilemma
solved.

  "Laygar," he called. "Take command of the workers. Make sure they
finish pulling another quint of Swill before they adjourn to their
cells," he instructed.

  "_That should keep them working until well after sundown._"

  Alorgin looked up. He hadn't realized his familiar had returned
already. "_I need them to stay busy while I go visit my queen,_" he
informed Synth.

  "_What did you find this time?_"

  "_Your assumption was correct. Danetha is truly a nymph, she also
is bespelled by Kythnar._"

  This was shocking news. Alorgin had always assumed that a nymph
was immune to a Taginami sorcerer's magic. Kythnar must be more
powerful than he had realized.

  "_What did you find out about the Swill? Why is it so important
to Kythnar,_" he asked the Imp, as he left the mine area and made
his way to the queen's garden.

  "_The Swill has some type of magical properties that only a
Taginami sorcerer knows how to manipulate,_" Synth hissed as he
disappeared.

  He found Danetha sitting under a large oak tree. She was
humming an unrecognizable tune and staring off into space. Once
again she was dumbstruck by how lovely she was. Not only was she
exquisite, but her aura was sweet and--

  "_I'm all for checking out the hot babes but have you noticed
the gray edges of that sweet aura you were just admiring?_"
Synth's sarcastic question snapped him out of his trance.

  He found himself groveling in the dirt next to the nymph.
Standing up quickly he brushed off his worn leggings and examined
her aura more closely. The Imp was right! Danetha's oh-so-delicate
aura was tinged with a sickly gray.

  "Did you come seek me in my garden for purposes other that to
worship my beauty, Sir Alorgin," she asked in her musical voice.

  "I would ask a boon of my queen," he begged appropriately.

  "What is your desire?" she asked as she fluffed her luxurious
blonde hair.

  "I wish for my lady to accompany me to the mine. I have a
surprise for you," he offered. Nymphs were notorious for enjoying
surprises.

  "OOOOO," she squealed as she jumped up. "I LOVE surprises!"

  Alorgin held out his arm for his queen. As she daintily placed
a tiny hand in the crook of his elbow, he escorted her out of the
gardens and to the Swill mine.

  "_Synth, can you hear me?_"

  "_What do you want?_" the Imp snapped, annoyed to be interrupted
from whatever mischief he was causing.

  "_I have something I need for you to do. I think you will enjoy
this. When we get to the Swill pit . . . ._"

                               *  *  *

  Danetha ranted and raved the whole time she was being hauled
out of the grotesque ooze. Her pretty gauze robe dripped with the
slime and she smelled like she had bathed in a pile of dragon dung.
Alorgin had been correct in assuming Synth would enjoy his request.
The trouble making Imp, had polymorphed into a hellhound, visualized
for a second and then promptly disappeared. Of course no one else
had seen him except for Danetha and Alorgin and possibly Laygar.

  As Alorgin wrapped his queen in a warm blanket he examined her
aura once again.

  "_See her aura now,_" he told the Imp excitedly. "_It is bright
and clear and there are no tinges of gray any longer._"

  "_So the Swill can counter magic? Then maybe I should push you
into the pit,_" the Imp offered hopefully.

  "_No, not yet. We do not know if Kythnar can detect his spells
dissipating, and I am the chosen overseer. Since Danetha has only
ordered me to oversee the mine workers, I should be the last person
to be bespelled. Unless I am given further orders or bespelled
again, do not help me into the Swill,_" he cautioned the Imp. As
overseer all he had to do was make sure the Fleurlins hauled the
designated fifty quints a day. Plus he could let Synth occasionally
'help' the worker into the Swill. Meanwhile he could keep an eye on
the freshly dipped Fleurlins and hopefully interpret exactly how much
the slime countered the Taginami magic.

  A week went by quickly and by the end of it there were only a
small handful of yellow Fleurlins left. Unfortunately the rest of
the Fleurlin were obviously becoming restless now that they had
regained their will. Plus it was almost time for Kythnar to come
inspect the mine and chances were pretty high that he would notice
the partially bespelled Fleurlins. Alorgin had to do something.

  "Laygar," he called.

  "What?" The once docile Fleurlin had become quite obnoxious.

  Alorgin looked at the large blue reptile-man. "I want you to
jump into the pit," he commanded.

  The Fleurlin looked at him like he was nuts. Then a calculating
look came into his eyes. "Okay," he conceded.

  "Wait," Alorgin cautioned Laygar. He turned to the Preen guard.
"Release the Preen," he instructed.

  When the Preen was ready and the rope secured across the lake,
he nodded at Laygar. The Fleurlin didn't hesitate before he jumped
into the pit. As the Preen wrapped itself around him, Laygar pinched
his nose and dipped his head into the ooze.

  "Yuch!" He spat as he was hauled out of the pit. This time his
hide had changed to a pale green, the usual color of a Fleurlin.

  "Yes!" Laygar shouted as he wiped the Swill off his face. "Let
me tell you something--"

  "No," Alorgin interrupted. "Let me tell you something. I am
the queen Danetha's servant. I am your overseer by her order. I
must," he stressed the word must. "Obey her directive. Her
directive is that I oversee the removal of the Swill and that is
what I will do. You must do whatever it is that you see fit. If
the workers ACCIDENTALLY fall into the Swill, I must help remove
them as quickly as possible, for my lady has ordered me not to
lose anyone in the pit."

  Alorgin stared at Laygar. He knew the king's huntsman was
weighing out the odds. Finally he nodded and went back to his place
in the Swill line.

  The rest of the day was spent hauling more Fleurlin out of the
pit. Synth helped out by pushing, scaring sometimes suggesting that
the bespelled workers jump into the ooze. They were hauling the
last Fleurlin out of the pit when Kythnar finally made his
appearance.

  The Taginami Sorcerer was every bit as imposing as Synth had
suggested he would be. He stood over seven feet tall and wore robes
of rich purple velvet. His blue-black hair was long and unkempt and
his eyes blazed a brilliant red.

  Alorgin looked around the mine. Most of the de-spelled workers
had wisely chosen to hide behind the few Fleurlin that had not yet
been dipped into the Swill.

  Kythnar pointed at one blue Fleurlin. "What is wrong with that
worker," he bellowed, his voice reverberating off the cavern walls.

  "He fell into the Swill as did many others my lord Kythnar,"
replied a yellow Fleurlin.

  "_Synth, can you hear me?_"

  "_Loud and clear_."

  "_I need help,_" Alorgin informed the anxious little Imp.

  "_No problem,_" Synth answered. He materialized slightly behind
Kythnar just as the Taginami Sorcerer raised his scepter above his
head.

  "How many other?" Kythnar demanded.

  "All but six of us my lord," the bespelled worker answered
dutifully.

  Kythnar began to chant as he swirled the scepter above his head.

  "Daygant, Jaltar, Omdran," he intoned. An indigo whirlwind
appeared above the evil sorcerer head. Thunder reverberated across
the mine as his magic began to swell. The smell of burning Swill
emitted from the sorcerer's rod.

  The Swill! Not only did it counter Taginami magic, but it
nourished it too.

  "_Synth, now! The Scepter, go for the scepter!_" Alorgin ordered
as he grabbed the Preen rope and tossed it back across the Swill
pit. He began slowly inching his way across the pit when Laygar had
tied the rope securely to a post.

  The Imp polymorphed into his hellhound form and let out an
obnoxious growl. He sat back on his haunches and began breathing
fire at the sorcerer.

  Suddenly the cavern swarmed with the de-spelled workers.
Someone let the Preen loose just as Kythnar's magic peaked. The
Taginami sorcerer pointed his scepter at the snake and shot a
thunderbolt. The Preen screamed as it was hit, it's body dividing
down the middle and sizzling into ashes.

  "You fools!" Kythnar yelled above the noise. Turning he lashed
out at Synth. The Hellhound pounced and began snapping wildly at
the sorcerer. He caught Kythnar's sceptered arm with razor sharp
teeth, just as the two lost balance and tumbled into the Swill.

  Alorgin's rope teetered aimlessly. He screamed as he went head
over heals into the ooze. He felt his body being sucked under. This
is it, he realized.

  "Alorgin!"

  He looked towards the bank. The Fleurlin, no longer bespelled,
had joined hands and were inching their way across the pit. They
reached him just in time to haul him out of the slime.

  He sat gasping for air on the bank. "Kythnar?" He asked
breathlessly.

  "Gone. Thanks to you Sir Alorgin."

  He looked up. The Fleurinian's has all reverted to their own
natural pale green since the evil Taginami sorcerer's demise
released them from their enslavement.

  "_Synth?_"  "Synth? Can you hear me?"

  "Your Imp has returned to his home plane," Danetha's beautiful
voice informed him.

  Once again, she was so beautiful he forgot himself. "My wondrous
queen, what do you bid me to do?" he whined. If he was lucky she
might even gift him with a kiss.

  "I wish for nothing, Sir Alorgin. You have defeated Kythnar,
therefore I am released from my enslavement. In return, I release
you from yours."

  His sanity returned. He hauled himself up off the ground,
embarrassed to be seen kissing the toes of anyone. "Well thank
you little missy. Tell me why did the Swill repel Kythnar's spells
but not yours?"

  "That's an easy one to answer, Sir Alorgin," A Fleurlin
interrupted. "She ain't a Taginami, she's a nymph."

  He nodded his understanding.

  "The Swill was only good to a Taginami sorcerer. Kythnar had to
enslave workers or they would have never mined the slimy substance
for him. Yet without the slime Kythnar would have been just an
everyday warrior," The Fleurlin stated.

  Alorgin sighed as he gave the Swill one last glance. His familiar
had lost his form in an effort to atone for the trouble he had caused.

  "Oh Synth, you troublemaking Imp, I will miss you, he thought
as he began the long trek home. He had barely gotten out of the
Taginami sorcerer's mine when he heard a soft whisper in his mind--

  "_Hey, there Alorgin old pal, wanna have some fun?_"

                               (DREAM)

Copyright 1996 Michaela Marie Brandon, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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This is Michaela's first publication, and she feels writing has
been as much a passion since childhood, as reading SF and Fantasy.
An avid believer in anything fantastic, everything terrific and life
on other planets. She has two children and two cats grace her NW
home, and if not making up stories for children to read, she's
plotting her next story. Email: [e-mail]
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