The Black Dragon

by W. D. Newman

CHAPTER 17

  THROUGH THE TUNNEL

  Once he was back on the road, Jonah picked up his pace and ran. Elves are very light footed and at the rate the snow was falling, he was certain he would leave no tracks for Zoltan to follow. However, after two very close calls, he wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the dragon. Memories, still fresh in his memory, of the enraged, hungry beast devouring his horse spurred him on even faster.

  Despite the storm, he was able to keep up a swift pace for a good while. The storm, in fact, actually helped speed him along, with its gale force winds blowing into his back and pushing him down the road. Soon, however, his luck ran out; the road turned and the winds shifted. The storm now seemed bent on stopping him and continued to mount in strength and fury. Eventually, the brute force of the winds, assaulting him head on, made running impossible. Jonah, stooped and bowed against the onslaught, trudged wearily onward through the deepening snow. Even with his keen elfin vision, he could only see just a few yards ahead him. He could not tell where he was or where he needed to leave the main road, so he relied on instinct.

  When he finally did leave the main road, he struck out across a great field. The only reason he knew it was a field was because he simply did not encounter any trees as he stumbled on blindly through the tempest. Here, in this wide open space, with the constant howl of the storm, the numbing cold and ever present darkness, Jonah lost all track of time. Seconds accumulated into minutes. Minutes slowly slipped by and turned into hours. How many hours had passed since he left the cave? Surely morning was not too far off. If only there was some way to mark the passage of time, then he might be able to judge how far he had traveled and how far he still had to go. But there was nothing; nothing but flying, stinging bits of snow and the bitterly cold wind. His feet and hands were frozen and the coldness had penetrated to his very bones. Did he leave the main road too early? Or had he gone too far and passed the Twilight entirely? Weary beyond measure, he was about to despair and abandon hope, and the Faerie Oak forest suddenly loomed before him. He was home.

  The Faerie Oaks were laden with snow and their branches bent beneath the weight of the storm's deposit. Deep drifts piled up along the edges of the forest, while eddies of snow swirled between the ice encrusted trunks. Jonah stepped forward. The Faerie Oaks raised their heavy limbs, forming a passageway into the forest, and shook the snow from their branches. They pulled their roots from the frozen earth and used them to brush the snow off the pathway. Wearily, Jonah reached up and plucked a handful of leaves from the nearest tree. He shoved the leaves into his pockets and then collapsed.

  Back at the castle, all outside preparations for capturing the dragon were being suspended until the storm passed. Great slabs of granite had been positioned along the outside wall, near the gate tower, and thick iron rings had been driven deep inside them. Catapults, for launching the chains, were being constructed within the concealment of the forest and were very near completion. The Faerie Oaks had pulled close together to form a barrier against the wind so that the elves and dwarves could continue working through the storm. However, the storm had finally become strong enough to force everyone inside.

  As the last few workers were filing out of the forest, one of the Faerie Oaks reached out from the ground with its roots and grabbed the elfin worker in the rear of the line. Startled, the elf tried to loosen himself, but the tree held him fast. He commanded the tree to release him, but the tree would not respond. The elf's name was Loren. Frustrated, he called out to the other workers, but they were almost to the castle gates and could not hear him over the shrieking wind. He reached down and scooped up a handful of snow and quickly crafted it into a small, hard ball of ice. Taking careful aim, he hurled the snowball at the elf in the rear and hit him squarely in the back of the head. It was his friend Baylor. Loren frantically motioned for him to come back.

  "What's going on?" Baylor yelled over the wind.

  Loren pointed to his ankle. A thick vine-like section of root protruded though the snow and wound itself several times around the elf's ankle. "I cannot free myself," Loren shouted.

  As Baylor was trying to free his friend, another root shot out from the snow and grabbed him by the ankle. Now, both of the elves were trapped.

  "What's the meaning of this?"

  "I think we are getting ready to find out," Loren answered, pointing into the trees. "Look! Something is coming!"

  A tunnel had opened through the forest and, though it was dark, the elves could see a snow crested wave of writhing, twisting roots racing down the passageway. Something was riding on top of this wave, but it was too dark for either of them to discern what it might be.

  The roots that were holding the two elves captive released their hold and disappeared back into the ground. Transfixed by what was taking place, the two elves watched in fascination as the wave bore down on them. As it neared, it gradually subsided to a ripple that was just barely visible beneath the snow. When this strange wave, formed by the roots of the Faerie Oaks, finally reached the elves it gently deposited a lifeless body on the ground before them. The roots then disappeared into the snow, retreating back into the cold hard earth, and the tunnel closed as the trees repositioned themselves and lowered their limbs.

  The man was lying face down in the snow. Loren bent over him and gently rolled him over onto his back. Both elves gasped.

  "It's Jonah," Baylor cried, "and I cannot feel his life force! Is he dead?"

  "No, he is not dead," said Loren, "Quickly, now. Let's get him inside."

  The two elves picked their friend up and rushed him inside the castle keep, where fires were burning on every hearth inside the great hall. They gently laid Jonah down upon a fleece rug and called for warm blankets and dry clothing. While they removed his ice encrusted wet tunic, they sent another elf to bring the Keeper.

  When Marcus arrived, he found Jonah sitting up and warming himself by one of the blazing fires. He was now dressed in dry clothes and wrapped snuggly in woolen blankets. Loren was making him drink hot tea as well. Seeing Jonah here, alone, startled the Keeper. Where were the others? Did the storm catch them? Or was it something worse? Was it possible that he missed something when he looked into their future? Was there a path in their journey he was unable to divine? Or was it Zoltan? All events that occurred, where the dragon was concerned, were hidden from him. His stomach churned at the thought of anything happening to Louise and the children. They would not have gone on this mission if he had said nothing. Nervously he approached Loren and took the elf by the arm.

  "Is he okay?"

  Loren nodded as Jonah stood up and threw the blankets off. "I am weary, but I am okay. Our friends are in need of help and we are sorely pressed for time."

  "What has happened? Where are they? Are Louise and the children safe?"

  "All were safe when I left them," Jonah answered, "except for Amos. We made it to the Crystal Cave soon after the storm began." He told Marcus of their ill-fated encounter with the cave troll and of the deadly bite Amos received from the troll. He picked up his cloak, which was drying before the fire, and pulled the Faerie Oak leaves from the pocket. "He hasn't much time, so we must hurry."

  "Come with me," Marcus motioned to Jonah. As they were leaving, Marcus called over his shoulder to Loren. "The storm is beginning to taper off. After everyone has eaten, take some men and go to the smithies to get the chains and hooks. They are ready."

  On the way to the Keeper's study, Jonah finished his story by recounting his near fatal encounter with Zoltan. "...and so, we dare not bring them back overland. It is far too dangerous."

  "I agree. We will use the tunnels," said Marcus, opening the door and inviting Jonah to enter. The Keeper pointed to a kettle sitting on the mantle. "Brew the Faerie Oak tea now. The water in that kettle is still hot."

  Jonah opened the small brass kettle and crumbled the leaves into the steaming water.
The room was instantly filled with the smell of oranges. Jonah felt the stress and tiredness melt away from his body as he inhaled the fruity aroma.

  While Jonah was preparing the tea, Marcus fetched an old wooden crate from a nearby shelf and, very reverently, sat it on top of the table. When he removed the lid, a soft white nimbus radiated from within.

  Jonah sat the kettle down on the table. He pulled Casey's necklace from his pocket and laid it on the table beside the tea pot. "Here is Casey's spell catcher. The tea is ready too."

  Marcus nodded. He handed Jonah a unicorn horn and placed another one on the table. He then put the remaining horns into a leather sack and tied it securely to his waist.

  "Twelve horns," said Jonah. "You and I, Gabriel, Amos, Louise, Ben, Casey, Hob, Gob, and Nob. That's ten. That leaves only two horns to bring back horses. That's not enough."

  "I can keep the pathway open long enough to make two trips. Are you ready?"

  Jonah nodded.

  "Let's open the pathway in the great hall. I do not think that Old Dan will fit inside of my study." Marcus slipped the spell catcher and the unicorn horn into his pocket, and Jonah, with tea pot in one hand and unicorn horn in the other hand, followed the Keeper out of his study.

  Back in the great hall, Marcus ordered some guards to watch over the entrance and summoned some elves from the stables to tend to the horses when they came through. Once the guards were in place, he pulled the unicorn horn and the spell catcher from his pocket. Holding the objects over his head, he spoke a word of magic and a black hole appeared before him. Viewed from the front and rear, the hole appeared to be approximately six feet in diameter and hovered a few inches off the floor. However, when viewed from either side it was paper thin. "Are you ready?" the Keeper asked.

  Jonah held up his horn and the tea kettle full of Faerie Oak tea.

  "Then, follow me," said Marcus, as he stepped into the black hole and vanished.

  Jonah followed closely on the Keeper's heels. When he entered the tunnel, the dark engulfed him. This tunnel was darker than the deepest tunnels in Kahzidar and colder too. Above him, below him, and all around him was total darkness. There were no walls that he could discern, no ceiling, and no floor, just a vast empty void; except for directly ahead of him. There, just past the Keeper, he could see through the opening into the Crystal Cave. He could see the flames dancing in the fire and the lights from the fire flickering off the quartz in the cave walls. He could see Louise and Casey tending to Amos while Gob and Nob kept a watchful guard over their friends. He could see past the fire, down into the tunnel and he could even make out the horses standing just at the edge of the firelight. A lump rose in his throat and he tried to swallow the fear that was rising up from his chest. Ben was not there!

  Somehow, in some way that Jonah did not quite understand, Ben was a critical member of this party. The Keeper had even said the success of this mission depended on Louise and the children going along. "Where was Ben?" he wondered.

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