“Thank you, Elor,” said Theophilus.
Below the little weed, a dirty gnome cleared his throat. “Just so you know, I am still here,” he said.
Theophilus stomped once with his little foot. “And it serves you right, you greedy dirt mound,” said the weed before looking at Elor and Marin. “He kind of started all of this.”
“I see,” said Marin. “Well, let him up for now. I believe he has learned his lesson, at least for the time being.”
“I so intensely have,” muttered the gnome.
“Very well,” said Theophilus as he hopped off the gnome’s back. Harlim clamored to his feet before rushing back to his table. “And I expect pleasantries the next time our paths cross!” Theophilus called out before hurling two thorns at the gnome’s back side. Harlim yipped before rushing faster to his livelihood. “This place is not without its wicked charms.”
“Completely,” said Elor as he looked about. “Do you have any leads as of yet on the whereabouts of your friend?”
Theophilus shook his head. I am afraid not. I’ve little to go on, but I am hoping that now things have died down I will have a chance to properly question the vendors here,” he said.
“We shall assist you,” said Marin.
“I cannot thank you enough,” replied Theophilus gratefully.
“Excuse me,” said an approaching figure shrouded in robes. “I could not help but overhear your plight.”
Theophilus turned toward the voice and looked upon a pantheryn of almost gold fur and green eyes. The pantheryn looked amused and friendly, yet his cat-like gaze still held Theophilus at unease thanks to his recent encounter. The pantheryn offered a bow as he held out his hands to show them he meant no harm and was without weapon.
With the attention upon him, the pantheryn spoke. “My name is Erlwand of Randoon. I am sorry for your recent misfortune, little weed. I can tell you I have seen no Alethian flowers for sale today, but I have some information that may be of some use,” he said, his words passing from his lips like a purr.
Theophilus smiled. “I assure you, any help would be of great assistance,” he said.
Erlwand pointed to the east as he spoke. There is a clan of imps known as the Dark Claws. They travel here a few times a year to sell treasures they have gathered or stolen. They are camped not more than three leagues east of here. I believe if you want answers to the whereabouts of your friend, that would be the ideal place to start,” he said.
Theophilus nodded. “I will do that. Thank you for your help, Erlwand.”
The pantheryn offered another graceful bow. “Anything I can do to help. I wish you luck in your plight,” he said before walking off.
“Well I at least know where I must go next,” said Theophilus.
“Wait,” said Elor. “We will go with you, Theophilus.”
Theophilus shook his head. “You have already done me a great service, Elor. I cannot ask you to continue with me further,” he said.
Elor shook his head adamantly. “I would go regardless to help,” countered the imp before he sighed. “But there is more. I will be of great use in this, for the Dark Claws are my former clan. They are a motley, wicked bunch, but I know enough about them to help you on your quest.”
“Are you quite certain?” Theophilus asked.
“We are,” said Marin, for him.
The little weed patted his chest as he spoke in earnest. “Again, from my roots and beyond, I thank you,” said Theophilus. “One day I shall repay this tremendous favor you have offered on this day.”
“Think nothing of it, Theophilus,” said Elor, still grinning. “But we should be off soon. We must have time to prepare for such an encounter.”
Theophilus motioned to the east. “Then let us be off. Just let me get my fox.”
“Your what?” Elor asked as he came along beside him.
The little weed shrugged absently as they walked. “Long story. Tell you on the road,” said Theophilus as they made their way from the mystic aisle.
As they departed, the pantheryn known as Erlwand watched them go. His features showed true relief at their departure. Satisfied that they were gone, he turned and made his way deeper down the mystic aisle. After a few steps, some commotion under his robes gave him pause. Lifting his arm, he looked at his belt and the softly struggling pouch that rested there.
Patting it, Erlwand grinned deeply. “Hush, little flower child, for your time will come soon enough,” he said darkly before continuing further down the aisle.
Chapter Four
The Dark Claw Imps
With late afternoon fast approaching, Theophilus made his way slowly east with the company of his two new friends Elor and Marin. He was indeed grateful for the help, especially in dealing with imps. Theophilus had wondered if Renard would have difficulty with his travel companions but the three of them were instant friends. Having made a brisk pace toward the Dark Claw tribe of imps, the group had slowed, as the desire was to hold as much surprise over the imps as possible.
Scratching absently at Renard's back as he rode quietly, Theophilus could contain his silence no longer. "I have to ask, Elor, how did you and Marin come to find one another?"
A smile rose on Elor's face at the remembrance. "Well, as I said before, I used to be part of the Dark Claws, but I was never truly accepted for my size. Of course, not having a truly wicked bone in my body never helped much either. To prove myself, a small group of my tribe took me out for some mischief. I was ordered to torment Marin before I knew her and could not bring myself to do it. I even went so far as to try and stop them from pestering her. It would have cost me my life had Marin not intervened. We have been together ever since," said the imp.
“He has been a true blessing to me as well,” Marin offered as the depth in her eyes somehow deepened. “I had been alone for some time, my family lost to me ages ago. Elor’s spirit and heart brought warmth back into me. I guess it is better to say that we saved each other.”
Theophilus nodded to this reply. “I very much like this story. It sounds as though the two of you understand one another very well,” he said.
“Yes!” Elor beamed, albeit softly. “We are kindred spirits, Marin and I.”
Theophilus felt his spirit darken then, and soon his features matched. “Then I ask you both to keep each other close for as long as you can and treasure such moments. I wish the situation I am in to never befall such gentle souls,” said the little weed.
At the change in the little weed’s face, Elor grew somber, preparing for his next question. “What happened with Calla, Theophilus? How did you come to be traveling with a stone troll and imp on a perilous adventure?”
Patting at Renard, Theophilus was quiet for long seconds, thinking on Elor’s question. At last he drew a deep breath and spoke. “I guess it is for the same reason that you and Marin are joined, Elor. Calla and I are kindred spirits and it made her endearing to me from the very start,” he said.
“We can’t fault you for that,” said Marin.
“Indeed, we cannot,” added Elor. “What happened?”
Theophilus spoke again, and the words were easier this time. “Where I am from, there are two great places that share the region together. One is Alethia, the home of the great life tree Niburi. This is a place of beautiful flowers and light. The other is Bunda-Bas, the home of the weeds and where I once dwelled. You see, I am rather much like you in one regard, Elor, for I never truly fit in at Bunda-Bas. I was pretty much a cold loner when I met Calla,” he said.
“She must be beautiful,” said Elor, grinning.
“Thoroughly beautiful, inside and out,” replied Theophilus.
Elor was hesitant to ask his next question and he fidgeted a bit before doing so. “I am reluctant to do so, but I must press you a bit. What happened, Theophilus? How was she lost?”
The little weed lowered his head. “Because I made a choice and the consequence of that choice was her safety. Our friendship was frowned upon by flower and weed
alike, so we met in private and under the cover of darkness. I had set up a picnic for us, planning every detail before I was distracted. I made the choice to save a creature in need and by the time I had returned to the picnic, Calla was gone and lost in the night. I have been searching for her ever since,” he said.
“I am so sorry,” whispered Elor. “That is a heavy burden to wear on one’s heart.” To this the little weed nodded.
“That is quite unfortunate,” said Marin. “But you cannot save little Calla by blaming yourself, especially when it is not your fault.”
Theophilus looked at her with pained eyes. “But it is my fault, Marin. Had I been there I could have tried to save her,” he said before sagging his shoulders. “Had I never convinced her to leave her home, she would still be safe in Alethia,” he breathed.
Marin was not convinced. “But she too made choices, Theophilus. And she chose to be with you. I am quite sure if she is as wonderous as you proclaim, then she understood those risks. And would she have taken that risk if you weren’t a noble creature? I think not. And had you been there, maybe you could have saved her, or maybe you too would have been sharing her fate right now or worse. Perhaps your choice that night has put you in a position to truly have a chance at bringing her home,” she said.
Theophilus looked at the stone troll, his features softening. “Thank you, Marin. I never looked at it from such a light,” he said.
Marin nodded gently. “Sometimes a fresh perspective is much needed,” she replied.
“Yes,” whispered Theophilus. “If that is the fate I have been given, then I will make the most of such a chance.”
Marin smiled at Theophilus. “Calla would be moved to know she has someone as devoted to her as you are. Perhaps such a thought gives her hope in these dark hours,” she said.
Before Theophilus could reply, Elor raised a hand to quiet them. “Brace yourselves, friends, for we are close now. I can smell it,” he said before pointing to the distance.
The group quickly exited the road, looking to where Elor was pointing. Before them a ragged encampment was easily noticeable. Lazy tents and cots were strewn about carelessly as the imps lazed about, ate, and tormented one another. A large fire rested in the heart of the camp, heating a pot and a skewer of slowly turning meat. Soon Theophilus smelled what Elor had detected and his nose instantly regretted it.
“In comparison, you are the day to the night of these imps,” whispered Theophilus to Elor.
Elor nodded, looking at the camp from behind a fallen tree trunk. “My former brethren are quite troublesome. Kindness to them is an unforgiveable sign of weakness,” he said.
Theophilus shook his head at the sight. “Even at leisure they look restless and itching for mischief,” he mused.
“Only death or sleep still that,” whispered Elor.
Marin cleared her throat softly. “We are wasting Firestar light. We had better get to it,” she said, looking between the imp and weed to gauge readiness. “Are you prepared? Do we need to go over the plan again?”
Theophilus drew one of his daggers. “I am as ready as I need to be,” he said.
Elor nodded reluctantly, fighting his rising nerves. “I suppose I am too then,” he said.
Marin nodded. “Wait for my signal then, and good luck,” she said before she ventured off without a sound.
As they watched the stone troll move and fade into the wilderness, Elor could only shake his head in admiration. “One day, she must teach me such a skill,” he said in awe.
“You and me both,” whispered Theophilus.
The two new friends waited in silence, keeping a close eye on the Dark Claw imps, careful not to be noticed. Their plan hovered greatly on the element of surprise and its success would mean the difference between a clean escape or facing a wave of unforgiving imps. Trying to banish his own anxiety, Theophilus focused on Calla to give him the clarity he needed to succeed.
It was then that the two heard a distinct bird call. It was the signal that Marin was ready. Nodding to each other, Theophilus climbed again upon Renard as Elor prepared himself. Taking a deep breath, the little imp exhaled nervously as he walked out of hiding and marched toward the encampment of Dark Claw imps. Theophilus held himself at the ready, hoping beyond hope that their hastily laid plan saw them through successfully.
Relaxing some, Elor ventured into the encampment, fishing a green ball from the little pouch on his belt. At first, the imps paid him no mind as he drew closer to the large fire where a large imp was too preoccupied with cooking to pay him any mind. As Elor neared that imp, some of the Dark Claws took notice of Elor’s presence, offering snarls and growls. The biggest of the imps was still oblivious to this as he set about to finishing the preparation of his meal.
It was then that Elor whistled a happy tune. This was enough to bring the encampment to silence. The large imp then ceased his stirring, pausing as if he had heard a ghost. Slowly he turned, laying eyes upon Elor. As he did, fury rose up in him, flaring his nostrils as he threw down his cooking spoon.
“Well hello there, Midsyr,” said Elor with a grin. “It obviously hasn’t been long enough.”
“Puercelor!” Midsyr roared. “You’ve come at last, and just in time to round out my meal.”
Elor shrugged. “In the pot or out, I am certain I will be spoiling lunch for you,” he said.
Midsyr offered his fangs then. “I shall finally have revenge on you,” he growled.
“Well, you will have something at least,” chuckled Elor as he tossed the green enchantment in his hand.
Midsyr sneered, but before he could react the orb had crashed between his legs. A green goo spat out from the orb then, latching itself upon the ground and Midsyr’s ankles. The large imp knew immediately that Elor had assaulted him with an entrapment orb. Midsyr found himself stuck to the ground, unable to reach Elor or enact his revenge.
Elor turned then as he ran in the opposite direction. “That was fun, Midsyr! Let’s do it again some time!” he called out.
Stuck as he was, it was all Midsyr could do to not lose himself in rage. “Get him!”
As the remaining imps rose to give chase, Elor continued straight out of the camp. As the young imp fled, he tossed black orbs upon the ground, releasing a foul smoke that choked and distracted his pursuers. With the time it afforded him, Elor gained a good distance between him and his former clan mates. Back at the camp, Midsyr’s displeasure could still be heard in great mounds.
Theophilus watched as his new friend ran for his life. His enchantments had done their trick and the imps were almost cleared out of the encampment now. The little weed held his breath as Elor made his way around a large boulder where Marin was waiting. Out of sight from the other imps, Marin wrapped her cloak around him before enacting a spell that made her blend into the boulder. In a quick moment, it was as if she and Elor had vanished.
As the imps rounded the boulder, confusion set in as they screamed their confusion and rage. The Dark Claws began to scour the area in hopes of finding Elor and exacting their vengeance. With their focus dead set upon Elor, Theophilus knew his time had come at last. Goading Renard forward, the little weed rushed toward the encampment and Midsyr.
With Midsyr struggling to get his feet free, he did not see Theophilus and Renard at first. The little weed took advantage of this as he and the fox charged. Theophilus was already within the encampment when Midsyr noticed him. Snarling once more, the imp drew the dagger in his ragged belt as he prepared for the little weed and his mount.
Now in range of him, Theophilus tossed some of his thorns swiftly at Midsyr. The little spikes struck the imp’s wrist, forcing him to drop his dagger as he yelped. Theophilus then leaped upward as Renard rushed forward, jumping at the imp. Striking him on his chest, Renard knocked Midsyr to his back before landing ahead of him and coming about. Theophilus then pounced upon the imp’s chest before sitting himself on Midsyr. Placing his daggers at Midsyr’s throat, he applied a little pressure. The wide
eyes offered by the imp let the little weed know he had his full attention.
“We must talk, imp, and let us be quick before your breath overwhelms me,” said Theophilus.
“Do your worst, weed!” Midsyr barked his defiance. “When my brethren return you will be diced to bits!”
Theophilus shrugged as he pressed the blades more firmly to the imp’s neck. “That may be true,” he countered. “But not before they hear you wail and cry like the coward you are. You see, your former clan mate has informed me how your kind handle weakness. Maybe I end up in a stew. Maybe not. But if so, I won’t be the only one. Now talk!”
Midsyr found his taunts caught in his throat, bested by the truth of the little weed’s words. Disgust filled his eyes as he averted his gaze, defeated. “What is it that you want to know, weed?” he rasped.
Satisfied, Theophilus lessened the pressure of his blades as he spoke. “A beautiful flower was taken from near Alethia only days ago. I found imp tracks. I want to know what your clan did with that flower and for your sake I hope she is still alive,” he said.
Midsyr resisted at first but soon relented. “We are often charged to claim such ingredients. This flower brought us great fortune. I’d not be surprised if she was already a potion by now,” he said, smiling wickedly.
Theophilus pressed his blades against Midsyr’s flesh again, shaking his head. “You see, that fate is not going to work for me, imp, so I must know who you sold the flower to. This will directly affect whether or not you enjoy the main course tonight or become it yourself, now answer me, curse you!”
Midsyr sucked a heavy breath. “I do not know his name, I swear it!”
Theophilus barked a harsh laugh at the imp’s plea. “And I am supposed to believe the word of a dishonest imp?” the little weed asked.
“It’s true!” Midsyr stammered. “He comes to us at the encampment. We do not go near the market! He tells us what he requires and rewards us for our work!”
Theophilus let fire fill his voice. “Then tell me what does this wicked employer look like? Speak swiftly!”
The Adventures of Theophilus Thistle Page 4