by Ayre, Janice
“You were to tell me about Zebulon and why Ambrose was sending soldiers after him,” Brock reminded Orville. “What did he do that was so wrong?”
“He stole from the farm.” Orville watched the effect this information had on the young elf. One part of him desired to be loyal and the other part was receiving confirmation of his suspicions that Zebulon had not told him everything.
“Do you know what he is supposed to have stolen?” the elf asked with hesitation.
“Something very valuable, like gems I believe.”
Brock turned noticeably pale.
“So you know this for yourself?” Orville encouraged the confidence of the elf by using a low conventional voice.
“I must be going,” was all Brock managed to say. He rose to leave.
Orville placed a restraining hand on Brock's arm. “Don't forget. I'm here for you. I can help you so that when they come for Zebulon you don't get caught too.” He released his hold on Brock.
“One more thing,” said Orville as Brock began to leave. “Clinton's pretty little sister forgives you and really misses you .”
That stopped Brock in his tracks. “How do you know that? Did she tell you.”
“Why, yes, she did.”
“But I thought you said you didn't really know Clinton.”
“When I said I didn't know him, I meant he wasn't my friend. But of course I know the family, they are important people round those parts. I am sorry I even told you. Just thought you would be happy to know,” said Orville in an injured tone.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to doubt you, I only wanted to be sure it was true.”
“Fair enough,” said Orville resuming his customary manner. “Meet me here same time tomorrow and I'll see if I can have some more news for you.”
Over the next few days they had multiple meetings, each one reinforcing the distrust Brock had for Zebulon and strengthening his belief that Orville was his friend. He encouraged Brock to confide in him, and to trust his judgement. Brock had found it easy now to disengage himself from the family as Uri and Elvira were very busy and Minerva made sure she had plenty to do. She found there were much more exciting things to do than baby sitting a boring elf.
One morning Orville gave Brock the news that the soldiers were only a short distance outside of the village and would be arriving within the next few days.
“You need to protect yourself. Everyone knows you were with Zebulon. You will be considered guilty too,” he told Brock.
“But if I leave, Zebulon will come after me.”
“Not if they capture him.”
“Zebulon is a very powerful wizard, they won't be able to hold him.”
“You're right. We need to protect you.”
Brock was now past the point of reasonable thinking. Many thoughts and ideas raced through his head but hardly any made sense to him. He looked to Orville for answers. “What will I do?”
Orville frowned and put his head to one side, considering the best solutions for Brock. “I am very good friends with a wizard who is much more powerful than Zebulon. He will protect you.”
“Why would he want to do that?”
“For such a young one you are full of questions. Because he will help any friend of mine, that's why.” Orville stated simply. “We should leave tomorrow and I will take you to Mustafa.”
“I have to find a way to leave without my friends being suspicious.” Having said that, the answer came to Brock in the next minute. “I know what to do, I'll tell them I am going back to Zebulon.”
“Excellent idea. Meet me back here at dawn. Don't be late,” said Orville.
During a rushed evening meal Brock informed Uri and his family that he was well enough to return to Zebulon and planned to return the next morning.
“You will miss the festival if you go now. Wait a few days,” said Elvira.
“I could go and tell him and we could both come back here. I'll leave early so that we can reach here in time,” replied Brock.
“That's a great idea,” said Uri. “It will be most enjoyable to have him here.”
With everything satisfactorily arranged, Brock packed his few scant belongings and lay down to sleep. His sleep was fitful and the night seemed long. Finally the first light of dawn appeared and Brock hurried dressed and crept to the door. Having lied to his friends he did not have the courage to face them. He was soon out on the street and hurrying towards the small inn and his new future.
Chapter Eleven
Abduction
Zebulon had found the last opal. It looked almost identical to the other blue one. Reaching into his pack to collect the pouch with the other two opals, he was surprised that it was not where he expected it to be. He found it after a short search and decided that Brock must have entertained himself with his favourite gem. He gave an indulgent smile and after placing the third opal with the others, he took the pouch containing the pendant and carefully lifted it out. The exquisite gold and silver leaf frame lost some of its appeal with all the gems missing except for the two pink diamonds.
As he worked to place the opals in their positions at the bottom of the pendant, he visualised it in all its beauty. Soon it would be complete. He knew where to find the ruby which would fit between the diamonds. The centre stone, the Peridot, that magnificent rich green stone, was in a safe place. His quest was nearly at an end. Tomorrow he would collect Brock from Kotonia and proceed on his way. He hoped the elf had regained his health sufficiently for travel.
Next morning he left the cottage, which had been home to him and Brock for some months, and urging his horse to a gallop, headed for Kotonia. Already his mind raced ahead to the retrieval of the ruby and the necessity of facing his old master, Kareem.
The sun was overhead when he reached the Four Star Inn. There was a lot of bustle with people crowding around various displays in the streets. Zebulon was not interested in any of this and felt annoyed as the entrance to the inn was obstructed by the gathering. After he had pushed himself through the crowd and suffered a few indignant remarks, he went in search of Uri. He did not find his friend but Elvira was busy cooking in the kitchen. She gave Zebulon a surprised smile as he entered.
“Why that was quick, we didn't expect you back until evening!”
“What do you mean? Why did you expect me at all?” the wizard asked.
“Because Brock was going to persuade you to come back here with him. He left very early this morning. We didn't even see him go.”
An indeterminable expression crossed the wizard’s face. “I have not seen Brock. He left this morning you say?”
“I expect so. He told us last night that he was returning to you and hoped to encourage you to come back to enjoy the festival with him.” Elvira looked worried. Zebulon had asked them to look after Brock and now it seems they had failed. “I don't know why you wouldn't have met him on the way. I'll go and find Uri and see if he knows anything more.”
“No, you stay here. I will go and look for Uri. And don't worry, we will find the elf.”
Zebulon found Uri but he didn't know any more than his wife. Enquiries in the village were fruitless, each person so intent on enjoying the festival, they had no recall of seeing a young elf. Zebulon set off to return to the mine in search of Brock. He believed he could have had an accident and be lying injured somewhere along the way between the village and their cottage.
Brock led his horse to the meeting place and found to his relief that Orville was waiting. Wasting no time once he saw Brock approach, the young man mounted his horse and directed Brock to follow him.
Brock brought his horse alongside Orville's horse as they left the town and asked. “Which way are we going?”
Orville pointed to a mountain range in the distance. “Mustafa has a home up in the mountains in a secluded place. Zebulon will not be able to find you there. Mustafa protects it with his magic.”
As they left the village behind, conversation was not easy because the track had narrowed and Bro
ck was forced to ride behind Orville.
Brock began to wonder what sort of wizard Mustafa was. Would he be frightening like Zebulon often seemed to be, or would he be friendly? Orville seemed comfortable with him, but then Orville was a very confident young man. The name Mustafa seemed familiar to Brock now that he had taken time to reflect. And then he remembered. He had heard Zebulon and Uri speaking about a wizard called Mustafa. He had not taken much notice at the time, being far more interested in talking to Elvira about cooking, but he had the impression that they didn't like him. That would not be surprising if Mustafa objected to Zebulon's evil ways. At the same time, Brock felt a certain uneasiness, setting out to meet a stranger. He satisfied himself it was because he had finally mustered up enough courage to leave Zebulon's company.
Well into the morning when they had been travelling many hours, Orville decided they would stop for rest and refreshments. Orville seemed unusually quiet and Brock supposed that it was because he was tired. After a short rest they continued on their way. It was shortly after they had resumed their journey that Brock heard a noise behind them. Looking back, he could make out two horsemen.
“There is someone following us,” he said tensely and as quietly as he could.
“Don't worry about it. Just someone going the same way,” answered Orville.
The riders were closing the gap quite fast between Brock and Orville. Despite Orville's disinterest, Brock was apprehensive. It wasn't until the riders had almost caught up with them that Brock recognised them.
***
Zebulon backtracked his route in search of Brock. He checked in around the dry river beds and looked for places where the elf could have accidentally strayed. He consulted the map. He called his name. He used spells to reveal Brock's whereabouts. All attempts failed. As he arrived back at the cottage he hoped he would find Brock there. The place was deserted, with no sign of Brock or his horse. Zebulon knew he would not be able to see well enough in the dark to make the journey back to the village because there was no defined track. There was nothing to do but wait until morning. He had instructed Uri before leaving to look for the elf and make some enquiries as to whether anyone had seen him.
As the two riders reached Brock he recognised them as the two young men he had seen at the park when he first met Orville in the village. His fears were not calmed when Orville swung his horse around to face the newcomers.
“I told you to stay out of sight until later,” he said to them.
One of the young men shrugged. “We thought now that you have the elf it didn't matter,” he said.
Realising that he had been foolish and allowed himself to be tricked, Brock tried to manoeuvre his horse past the riders.
“Get him!” Orville yelled.
As the man lunged for the horse it became frightened and rearing up, threw Brock off its back. The horse made good its escape but Brock was left to the mercy of the three ruffians. Brock tried to run but was knocked to the ground again.
“You fools, now we have lost his horse!” yelled Orville. “Here put him up with me.”
Brock was no match for the young men but he did not intend to go easily. He kicked and fought while the others cursed him and all his family. Orville finally produced some rope and Brock was bound and placed on Orville's horse. Being in such close proximity to Orville led Brock to wonder how he could ever have regarded this man as his friend.
They rode on through the day making as much haste as possible. It was the most uncomfortable journey Brock had ever experienced. He wanted it to end and yet he feared that once they had reached their destination, Zebulon would have no hope of finding him. He trembled also as he imagined what Mustafa would be like.
By nightfall they had reached a small dwelling built into the side of the mountain. It was not the type of place Brock would have thought a great wizard would have lived.
“Is Mustafa here?” asked one of the men.
“Not yet, he told me to wait for him here. He will come as soon as he can. The main thing is, we have the elf,” said Orville as he dismounted and dragged Brock off the horse.
He untied Brock and then shoved him through the doorway. Inside was dirty and messy.
“You pig!” exclaimed the young man who had not spoken so far. He didn't seem as wild as Orville and his companion. Brock had a fleeting thought that he might ask him for help.
Orville grunted in displeasure at the criticism and said, “As if you live any better!”
They all stood in the middle of the small room. Brock decided to appeal to Orville's better character, because they had exchanged confidences and Brock believed it couldn't have all been a pretence.
“What do you want with me? I'm sure the wizard would have no use for me,” said Brock.
All the men laughed. “You are right,” said Orville bringing his face so close to Brock's that the stench of his breath caused the elf to almost puke. “Mustafa has no use for you, and neither do we.” He jabbed his finger hard into Brock's chest and the three men laughed. “Do you know how it sickened me to pretend to be your friend? If I could have just dragged you out of the village it would have been much better. But the village is such a happy little place that any yelling and screaming would have been a problem. Don't raise any suspicions Mustafa said.”
“Zebulon will find you and rescue me,” Brock said defiantly.
“We want him to find us,” said one of the men.
“You stupid little elf. We have set a trap for Zebulon and you are the bait!” Orville laughed and grabbed Brock by his shirt and began pushing him towards the corner of the room.
“Zebulon won't be tricked!” Brock shouted and he tried to fight against Orville.
The show of temper was all the others needed to join in the entertainment of 'teaching' the elf a lesson. They mindlessly punched him until his nose was bleeding and his eyes were so swollen he could hardly see. In pain he fell to the floor where the others left him. Tired of their game and satisfied the elf would give them no more trouble, they sat at the table to eat, drink and play cards. They did not offer Brock any food, nor could he have eaten anything had it be given to him. He was in pain from the beating the three had given him, but the greater pain was the betrayal and the knowledge of his own stupidity.
Brock did not give up plans to look for a means to escape. All through the night, he woke from fitful sleep to see if the others were sleeping, but they always had someone sitting guard. In the morning they threw a bowl of some horrid food matter before him. It reminded Brock of the slops he used to feed the pigs on the farm. He was not going to have any, but he had not eaten since the previous morning, so he decided it would be better for him to keep his strength up. His greatest hope was that Zebulon would arrive and defeat his abductors.
Orville had been the last one to sit guard during the night so he came out from one of the inner rooms later in the morning yawning and stretching. “I hope Mustafa gets here soon. I want to get away from here. So elf, do you think your wizard will find you today? It’s going to be a thrill to see what Mustafa does to the wizard. Zebulon won't be in any state to rescue you then.” He turned to the other two. “Wonder what Mustafa will do with the elf? Hope he doesn't just snuff out his life. What fun would that be...”
The discussion of how terrible the punishment would be for Zebulon and Brock continued throughout the day at intervals when the three men were not sleeping, eating or drinking. The injuries Brock had sustained, the threats they continued to frighten him with, were not as terrible as the feeling Brock had that Zebulon had abandoned him. He believed that if he was going to rescue him he would have come by now. If Mustafa was truly stronger than Zebulon then maybe he preferred to sacrifice Brock to save himself. As the hours dragged on Brock became more convinced this was the reason Zebulon would not come.
***
The day following Brock's disappearance Zebulon scoured the surrounding country with the help of Uri and other men from the village. Uri had closed his inn and gone
searching while Elvira and Minerva went around the village asking everyone if they had seen anything that might help. It wasn't until the following day that Brock's horse was discovered wandering around near the river beds that divided Kotonia from the mine. Although it was a lead, it was not an encouraging one and there were some that began to believe that Brock was beyond their reach.
Zebulon would not give up. Uri voiced their shared suspicion and fear when after another fruitless day of search had ended he said. “Do you think Mustafa has him?”
“I think it highly likely. But one thing, though he may have driven the most vile fears into the poor lad’s head, he will keep him alive because he wants to bargain with me.”
“You will need to take great care,” was all that Uri said.
Chapter Twelve
Rescue
It was now the fourth day since Brock's disappearance. Zebulon felt there had to be someone who had seen something on the day Brock left. Kotonia was not like the other mining village where there was continual activity. These villagers mostly believed in returning to their homes at a reasonable hour. There were a few places such as the small inn on the outskirts of the village where some of the rougher inhabitants and strangers would meet. After Zebulon familiarised himself more with the town, he made his focus of enquiries at this particular inn, even though Uri was quite sure that Brock would not have ventured over that part of town.
“He may do so if he was enticed. Something had unsettled him after his last trip to Kotonia. I should have been more sensitive to his troubles and got him to confide his concerns,” said Zebulon.
“Don't do anything without me,” said the faithful Uri. He could see his friend was getting weary and could make a mistake, something he couldn't afford when dealing with someone as cunning as Mustafa.
When Zebulon entered the small inn his commanding presence seemed to fill the entire room. All conversation halted and all eyes turned to look at him.
