The South Enil Debacle

Lontel watched the barge with Titarnaes and his four underlings pull away from the dock and drift slowly towards the center of the slowing moving Enil. Yunta hoisted the dirty sail that soon caught the morning breeze and began pulling the wide, flat boat upriver at a snail’s pace. The guild master barked orders and soon four oars dipped into the muddy waters.

Lontel sprang into action whenever the barge finally floated out of sight. He dragged out the immense length of rope he had purchased and dumped it into the small dory he had traded for several months earlier. In it he also stowed a week’s supply of food, his bow, and a quiver of arrows.

Soon the small craft was cutting through the current following the larger, slower barge. Throughout the day Lontel kept the sail reefed to keep his distance behind his quarry. Every hour he would land, climb through the reeds standing four feet higher than he, push his way through the shoulder high grass until he found a high point, and check the progress of Titarnaes’ barge.

The only unsettling part of the trip was the Enil crocodiles that basked on the sand bars or floated by with nothing moving, not even their eyes. Something very rough grated against the boat, and when Lontel glanced over to see what he had hit, a massive set of jaws snapped just under his heat. White with fear, he fell to the center of the vessel and cowered, sweat and fear pouring from his body.

"You’ll not keep me from becoming a master thief, you floating log of death," he muttered when he finally regained some of his composure. For the rest of the day, though, he steered as wide a course as possible around the drifting crocs.

When the sun dipped below the flat horizon, Lontel threw his small anchor into a growth of reeds, curled up in the bottom of his temporary home and soon fell into a light sleep. Scrapings and thumpings kept his sleep fitful. When morning arrived, the sun streaking the sky with gold, he felt more tired than when he had fallen asleep.

After washing down several sweet cakes with the river’s brackish water, Lontel pulled in the anchor and set out again. "All I need is a sharp bend in the river now, and I can set my snare," he laughed as the morning sun warmed him and lifted his spirits. No sooner had he said it than the river suddenly curled to the east. Clapping his hands together with childish glee, he swung the boat around and pointed it for the west bank. As it scraped the sandy beach, Lontel heaved out his anchor and stepped out carrying his bulky coil of rope. His eyes searched everywhere for something to secure this end of his trap. Nothing. Nothing but reeds and grass. How was he to stop a floating barge with one end of his line tied to nothing but grass?

Angrily he thrashed through the grass. Still nothing! He couldn’t believe it. All of his plans, his carefully laid plans thwarted. He sat heavily onto the sand and watched dejectedly as the current playfully tugged at the stern of his dory.

As he watched, the boat worked loose from the bank and slowly began drifting away. The anchor line went taut and caught its errant ward. Lontel jumped to his feet. Of course! How could he be so slow, so stupid?

Working frantically, he beached the boat, untied the anchor, tied it to his snare line, and buried it deep in the tough roots of the grass. Possessed by his inspiration he rowed to the far shore trailing the rope behind him. Once there, he spent four exhausting hours bulling the dory into the tall grass and burying it so it couldn’t be easily moved. When it met with his approval, he lashed the end of his snare line to the dory’s front cleat. Now all he had to do was wait.

The first two days dragged by. On the third day, Lontel woke from a nap and noticed a log about to hit the snare rope. A small test, he smiled to himself as he watched. Just as the log hit the rope it exploded into a maddened churning crocodile.

"NO!" Lontel screamed, jumping to his feet and racing to the riverbank. By the time he reached it, the reptile’s struggles were over, and it continued it leisurely journey down the river.

Fretfully Lontel tugged on the rope. Strong resistance met his efforts. Reassured and more confident than ever, he returned to his grassy nest to continue his watch. On the fifth day he saw a sail over the grass moving in his direction. Quickly he strung his bow and prepared.

Before the barge appeared, Lontel could hear Titarnaes’ bass voice ringing in song. He’ll be singing a different tune shortly, Lontel thought humorously. Suddenly the barge drifted into view. Almost instantly it touched the rope. The hidden thief watched anxiously as the rope tightened and water droplets sprang from it like it was a hot skillet.

With a groan the barge stopped in midstream and its passengers lurched forward. "What in hell’s name have we hit?" Titarnaes yelled from his knees.

Yunta stood and began going forward, but Lontel’s harsh voice stopped him. "Move again, Yunta, you pig, and I will skewer you with an arrow dipped in the venom of a viper." Yunta froze. He recognized the voice and knew the bastard could do it.

None on the barge moved. Lontel let his eyes stray from the people to hunt for the prize they had traveled so far for. He saw no chest, no bags, nothing that might contain coins or jewels. Titarnaes broke the silence.

"So, Lontel, you have stooped to stealing from your brethren, eh?"

"To prove a point only, Titarnaes," he said defensively. "To show you and those scum with you that I deserve the rank of master thief as much as they do." He could feel the guild master’s gaze on him, and he blushed.

"And what would our apprentice thief do with the prize he has taken from us?"

Lontel chewed his lower lip. "I will present it to the guild and receive my fifty percent of the profit realized." Yunta began inching forward. "Death by poisoned arrow is no pretty sight," Lontel said loudly. Yunta quickly retreated the few inches he had gained.

Titarnaes sighed. "It seems we are stalemated. We cannot cut ourselves free, and you cannot get our elf," Lontel gulped. What had the fool said?

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I said that our prize is and elf. Here, look for yourself." Titarnaes dragged a young maiden from his side into Lontel’s view.

"You want me to believe you have an elf?" Lontel laughed. "All you have is a skinny girl." He thought a moment. "How do you know she is an elf?"

"Well, you see, lad, she isn’t built like a normal woman," Titarnaes answered. He waited for a few moments for a reply. "Surely, Lontel, you knew that elven women don’t have the same womanly parts as humans."

"Of course," Lontel lied. "And I suppose you felt obliged to check her?"

"Our mountain brethren have been known to try to pull the wool over our eyes in the past," Titarnaes laughed. Seriously he continued, "As I was saying earlier, you have us stranded, but we have the elf. Now what do you propose to do?"

"That is simple," Lontel replied. "You will have the elf swim to this shore and you will swim to the other. I will then cut the barge loose. By the time you have caught it, I will be back in Sepultha waiting at the Bull.

"If you don’t, then I will be obliged to set fire to the barge and destroy any witnesses." As he finished speaking, Lontel noticed a huge crocodile floating towards the taut rope.

All aboard the barge jumped as the water exploded into a churning froth next to them. Lontel sank to the ground dejectedly as the rope slackened. Titarnaes and his cohorts began laughing riotously. "It seems we are freed by the teeth of one of your kin, oh master frog," Yunta chided.

Pulling the elf maiden to him as a shield, Titarnaes said, "You can try to kill us now apprentice thief; however, I doubt you can get us all, and your prize will surely be dead by the time one of your arrows reaches any of us."

Lontel didn’t answer. He just watched the barge pick up speed as the current and wind pushed it on its way. "Don’t worry, lad. We won’t hold this against you. It livened our boring trip," Titarnaes called back. The crocodile crawled onto the opposite bank catching the afternoon sun. Dejected, Lontel began the laborious task of digging out the dory.

From an alley, Lontel watch the dimly lit entrance of the Bull. Ignoring his reeling stomach, he pulled the cork on the wine bottle cradled in his arm and took another of many long draughts. His stomach could stand no more. Violently he retched. Bile and soured wine stung his nose as the vomit poured from it and his mouth. Reeling uncontrollably, Lontel dropped the bottle that shattered on the cobblestone. Again and again his stomach knotted as he fell to his knees until nothing remained but small trickles of spit. As he tried to rise, his stomach revolted again. Before he could fall arms with distant but familiar voices caught him.

Cold! Cold, wet, wet everywhere! He was drowning! Lontel thrashed madly. Finally, a rough hand pulled his head out of the trough by his hair. Lontel coughed and sputtered, trying to resist but his head spun wildly. Under he went again and was retrieved just before drowning.

"That should be enough," he heard Titarnaes say. He grasped the trough with both hands to stop the spinning world. Slowly it quit wheeling about him. His eyes finally focused on a young, thin, girl who was probably several years younger than he. Her brown, doe-like eyes seemed to study him with true concern. Her auburn hair shone even in the dim light.

"Stand up," Yunta said as he grunted the wobbly Lontel to his feet. When his watery knees steadied, Lontel studied his surroundings. Titarnaes and a small group of the Bull regulars stood around him in the stall behind the tavern. The smell of horse dung and soured hay wrenched his stomach. Yunta jumped out of the way.

"If you puke on me again, Frog, it will be the last time you ever have the opportunity," the grizzled thief growled. Frog! Apprentice! Lontel could stand the words no longer. From rubbery legs he threw a wild, weak punch at his enemy. Yunta dodged it easily and laughing doubled Lontel over with a smashing blow to the stomach.

A painful asp escaped his lips as he dropped to his knees clutching his ravaged midsection. He watched helplessly as Yunta set and kicked, smashing his mouth. Somewhere through the fog of semi-consciousness he heard Titarnaes say it was enough.