The Fourfold Key

Ruth opened her eyes and looked at the blurry scenery about her. She was lying on a small beach. The beige rocks stretched out a ways behind her and then were suddenly cut short by tall grass. The tall grass went on a bit and then the forest took over. The trees were some of the tallest she had ever seen.

What happened? she thought, willing herself to remember. Water…Cave…Key…Tom! She sat bolt upright, ignoring the stabs of pain shooting through her skull. To her relief, Tom lay a few yards away from her, still clutching the Key.

She stumbled over to him and pried the Key from his hand, then checked his pockets. The two other Keys were nestled safely inside. She drew them out of his pocket and held all three in her palm. The pale gold glinted in the gray, cloudy light. A shiver ran up her spine seeing all three together there.

“Tom,” she said, gently patting his cheek. “Tom, come on, get up.”

“Wha..?” he mumbled, opening his eyes.

“We made it out! All the Keys are safe. Are you okay? Do you know where we are?”

“Yes, I’m fine. My head hurts a little but I’ll get through it. How are you?”

“Never been better.” She grinned, bouncing on her toes.

She helped Tom stumble wearily to his feet. He gazed about him, trying to find his bearings. After a minute he shook his head. “I don’t know where we are. But it’s probably best if we continue southwest. It might lead us to a town, or directly to the Troll Swamps.”

Ruth’s head was spinning with questions, but she kept silent, hoping that he would find out where to go.

“Come on.” He waved her forward and they stumbled into the brush.

The tall grass was nothing like she had expected. It had three sides as sharp as razor blades, and the sharp sides clung to their skin, making large, deep gashes. They were cut and sliced from all sides by the invincible plants and they had no way to cut them down—they had lost their swords in the cave. The only weapon they had was a small knife, not big enough to do anything but whittle with. Their packs were gone, too. Let’s hope Troll Swamps are better than the Whirlpool. We won’t come out alive if it’s any worse!

They stepped out of the slicing grass. Ruth sighed with relief. The woods were much safer for her soft, bleeding ankles and one bare foot.

“Do you have any idea where we are now?” she asked. She pulled her sneaker off and tried to stuff her other foot into it. It fit...sort of. It pinched her toes a lot, but a shoe was a shoe, so she persevered.

“Not really. It seems like the Elven Woodlands but it could very well be the Fairy Kingdom for all we know.”

“How could we be in the Fairy Kingdom?”

Tom shrugged. “The underground river could have taken us to Dwarfshead River.”

As they walked, Ruth gazed around her. The woods were beautiful. The trees looked magical. Their bark was like birch, and they were almost as tall as the redwoods. They stretched up, up, up to the sky, each one determined to outgrow the other. Near the top, instead of the normal leaves for birch, there were pine needles. The ground was covered in the soft, dead needles—and moss—soothing Ruth’s sore feet. Flowers that looked much like tiger lilies grew in patches everywhere. They weren’t just orange, though. There were pinks and blues, too. They mixed together, filling Ruth with a deep happiness. She closed her eyes. It was a wonderful day to get lost. All of the sudden, she felt a pain in her right ankle. Something jerked her foot up, and before she could react it pulled her off the ground much too far into the air. Ruth didn’t even have time to scream. She opened her eyes to see what had happened. A thick rope was tied around her ankle. It had caught onto her foot and jerked her to the sky by some mechanism high in the trees. To her left, she saw Tom hanging upside-down from a rope as well. We can’t stay here too long. We’ll die! If we use the knife we have, we’ll fall one-hundred feet to the ground and die that way too! Ruth wondered who had set the trap. Elves? Maybe. Dwarves? Hopefully not. Unfortunately, Ruth suspected the latter of the two. Gee, what a stupid trap. She kicked angrily at the rope. The mechanism squeaked and she fell a few feet. It hurt her ankle terribly, but it was a way out!

“Tom! Kick the rope, the mechanism is weak!”

Tom did as he was told and they were soon squeaking their way down to the ground. The last few feet she tumbled and hit the ground. She sat up and began to untie her ankle. It was purple and raw. They had lost Lemonjello’s healing salve in the caves. Now would be a great time to have that stuff. Tom landed next to her and proceeded to free his foot as well.

“Looks as bad as mine,” she commented, glancing at the swollen lump forming on his ankle.

“Don’t move,” a dry, cracked voice behind them commanded. They both froze. “Turn around slowly with your hands where I can see them.”

They whirled around to see who had spoken. Five dwarves stood before them, swords drawn. Ruth recognized them. They were the five dwarves from her vision and the Gnome King’s Castle! Slowly, they raised their arms.

“These them?” a dwarf asked the one giving them the orders—probably their leader. The leader nodded. They advanced, swords at the ready. Two stood in front of them with their weapons at their throats. The other two came around behind them and began to tie their hands. Once they finished, they checked them for weapons, finding the knife. Terror flowed through her like a poison, keeping her from moving.

“Make a noise and see what happens,” their leader warned Tom and Ruth.

The dwarves then shoved them forward, taking no heed of their now very sore ankles.

Great, we’re out here in the middle of the woods with no one near but a bunch of dwarves who want to kill us! Or, at least, kill Tom. Ruth flinched at the thought. And it was her fault that he was here. She’d convinced him to come with her. She gave a quick glance at Tom, who looked about as miserable as she felt. Guilt dropped heavily into her stomach.

“Faster,” the head dwarf commanded, who Ruth now recalled was named Kalem Smithy, giving Tom a harsh kick in the back of the legs. Tom stumbled but remained standing.

“Do we have to drag him all the way back, Kalem?” one dwarf whined. “Can’t we just kill him now?”

“No, Wimble,” Kalem growled. “Me and Torrie here already told you that.” He gestured to Torrie. “We’ve got something...special planned for this one.” Kalem grinned wickedly.

“I don’t see why we can’t just do it now,” Wimble grumbled.

“Never mind that! Let’s just get out of these elf-infested woods. They have stronger senses than any intelligent creature on the planet.” Kalem looked about nervously.

Ruth’s feet were throbbing and bruised. She was tired. She was scared and angry. Her fingers had long since fell asleep and she was sure they were purple. She wanted this nightmare to be over.

She tried to decide which emotion she felt more—scared or angry. She decided on anger. She let the anger bubble and brew, until it grew into fury. She let that thunder in her head for a few minutes longer. Then she kicked the dwarf nearest to her, right in the shin. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she had to do something.

“Hey!” Kalem growled, and rushed at her. She turned and ran the other way. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tom kick down a dwarf and sprint after her. Kalem grabbed her from behind and flung her over his shoulder.

“Don’t try that again,” Kalem warned.

“And why not?” she asked obstinately.

“Because you don’t want to see your friend get hurt.” He nodded at Wimble, who flashed a knife under Tom’s throat. “Don’t move again unless you want that knife closer to his neck.”

Ruth went as still as she could, hardly daring to breathe. She shouldn’t have run. She should have waited until better circumstances. Now Kalem wouldn’t put her down, and Tom was being threatened, all because of her foolishness. They would drag them back to the Sorceress, she wouldn’t be able to rescue her dad and Tom would be killed. And quite possibly her, too.

“What was that?” Kalem stopped and looked about nervously. “I heard something.”

“It’s just a squirrel,” said Morrong, looking bored.

“What if it’s the elves?” Kalem asked. “We should go.” He set Ruth down.

Ruth scanned the trees. If it was the elves, then they were saved. Looking towards the sound, Ruth caught a glimpse of long, dirty-blonde hair. A second later, she saw Ramere’s face. It disappeared as quickly as it had come.

More than anything Ruth wanted to call out to the elf that had been such a good friend, if only for a short time. But she was afraid for Tom’s life, so she kept silent.

The dwarves scanned the forest worriedly. Ruth kept her eyes on the ground to keep from giving Ramere away. After a minute, she chanced a quick glance into the trees where she had seen Ramere. Nothing. A few minutes later, Kalem declared it safe and began to move on, shoving their two prisoners in front of them.

Now Ruth was shaking. Where is Ramere? A silly, illogical part of her felt abandoned and betrayed by the blonde elf. We saved her!

All day they trudged along, with the occasional shove or prod from their captors. When the sun began to go down they came to a small clearing.

“We rest here tonight,” Kalem ordered. “Thimken, Wimble, deal with them.”

Wimble and Thimken took hold of Tom and Ruth. They dragged them to the edge of the clearing and tied their hands to two trees, facing away from each other. There was a dull thud and Ruth heard Tom give a low groan.

“Leave him be,” Ruth demanded.

There was a pause, then Thimken and Wimble appeared around the tree.

Thimken smiled infuriatingly at Ruth. “And what are you going to do about it?” He bent down and tugged a lock of her hair playfully. She snarled at him. They laughed and joined their companions at the fire, leaving Ruth to steam by the tree.

If Ruth turned her head a bit she could see the dwarves around the fire they had built. She cringed whenever they mentioned Tom, but they never mentioned her. Tom was their top priority. The only reason they had her was because the Sorceress wanted her.

Soon, the dwarves were laughing at the fire, and drinking from a flask of something that was being passed around. A few minutes later, every one of the dwarves were asleep. The only one still awake was Kalem, who scanned the forest occasionally.

Ruth was tired. She felt herself drifting off. Soon, she began to dream.

Morrong was holding a flaming stick and began to wave it in her face. All the sudden, it turned into the weapon that he had tortured Ramere with. He scraped it down her face. She screamed in pain. And then it wasn’t Morrong anymore. It was the Sorceress.

“Ra domenish lapelty,” the Sorceress whispered to her. It was the same words she had said to the prisoner in the vision that she saw her father. Ruth began to choke and writhe. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was lay on the ground and twitch as spasms of unrelenting pain coursed through her body. She shuddered on the floor. Blackness clouded her vision. When she could see nothing else and the pain was almost unbearable, she woke.

She was lying next to the tree and her wrists were free. A familiar blonde elf was working on untying her ankles, and sparks of pain shot up her legs. She gasped and sat up, adding to the pain all over her.

Ramere saw she was up and scooted closer to her head. She pulled a flask of something off her belt and held it to her lips.

“This will help with the pain for a while, Ruth. You’re safe now.”

“Thank you,” Ruth croaked as she began to drink, and choked on the liquid inside.

Ramere apologized, mopping it off her as best she could. “I’m also sorry for leaving you this morning. I was alone and didn’t think I could take them all on my own. I went to get more elves to help. Forgive me.” She bowed her head.

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you came back.” Ruth smiled weakly. “Did you get to us okay?”

“Yes. Dwarves are heavy drinkers. They were all out by the time we got here.” She gestured to four lumps on the ground.

“Only four?” Ruth asked.

“Were there more?” Ramere asked, looking worried.

“Yes. There were five. Let me see them.” Ruth tried to get up, but Ramere pushed her back down.

“I will bring them to you.” She got up, and—with the help of two other elves—dragged their unconscious forms, one by one, to Ruth.

“That one’s Wimble, he’s not very smart…And that’s Torrie Fisher, he’s kinda like the second-in-command…That’s Thimken, and of course you know Morrong.” Ruth introduced the last one, giving him a hearty kick, gasping in pain for her efforts. “We’re missing the leader, Kalem. Kalem…Smithy.”

Tom came around the tree, supported by two more elves. Ruth ran to hug him. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess. It’s all my fault. Will you forgive me?” She looked up at him.

“Of course I forgive you!” Tom hugged her back. “But let’s try to avoid getting kidnapped in the near future.” He rubbed his wrists uncomfortably. “That’s not an experience I’d like to re-live.”

Ramere insisted that they come to her village for the night to recover from their most recent brush with death.

It turned out Ramere’s village was stranger than anything she had seen here so far. Not only was the village up in the trees, the trees and other plants there were magical, and seemingly alive as she was.

Ramere led them to the base of a tree and placed her hand upon it. She closed her eyes. “Keslyn tow,” she whispered commandingly. The tree began to writhe and ripple. The base of the tree opened up, leading into the inside of the tree itself. Except, instead of the hollowed out woody insides that Ruth had expected to see, she saw instead a platform, blue sky and branches. It looked as if it was high up in the air, not down at the ground. Looking up, she saw that the very same scene she was watching in the tree up above her in the elves’ village! From what she could tell, it was some kind of portal leading up to the village.

Ramere stepped into the base of the tree, landing on the solid platform above them. She turned and beckoned them to follow. “It’s perfectly safe,” she shouted from above them. When Ruth listened to hear from the opening in the base of the tree, she couldn’t hear her. The portal must only transport things, not sound. “My fellow elves will take the dwarves.” Ruth stepped forward into the tree.

A cool sensation rushed through her body as she felt herself rise, like fresh spring water. It wasn’t just in her, it was part of her. She was rushed and twisted like the water she felt she was. But the feeling lasted only a few seconds. Then she landed on the platform with Ramere.

“Come on!” Ruth cried to Tom. “It feels really good!”

Tom followed right after her, arriving at the top and blinking in surprise at being up so high, then rushed to the center of the platform, as far away from the edge as he could.

“Come along,” Ramere invited, advancing towards a thin rope bridge.

“Hrrmph,” Tom grunted. “I wouldn’t go across that flimsy thing for the world.”

As if the bridge had heard and understood him, it lashed out at him as if it had been an insulted creature. The ends of the vines flew towards him and wrapped about his ankles. Before he could protest, the rope vines dragged him to the bridge and flung him into the middle. He landed with a thud, and began to slide off the bridge. The ropes grabbed him again and held him in a standing position. He cast a terrified glance back at Ruth and Ramere. Ruth was staring in shock, whereas Ramere was doubled over in laughter.

“Even the bridges have feelings here, Tom,” she said as she attempted to compose herself. “It may be wise to keep that in mind.”

“Oh? Well, I’ll keep that in mind when this beast lets go of me!” Tom retorted, struggling against the tightly holding vines.

“Kasha my ke ronumtyn! Ny tike y pulenty!” Ramere cried to the vines. The vines slithered off Tom as if struck, making their way to their proper places and freezing there.

“Hrrmph. Thank you.” Tom made his way to the other side of the rickety bridge, taking care not to touch any of the vines and staying as far from the edge as possible.

Ramere leaped across the bridge with catlike agility. Ruth followed after.

Ramere led them up a flight of moving stairs—much to the dislike of Tom—and into a small building.

“This is where you will be staying, Tom. I assumed you wanted the room lower down—Ruth’s room is up much higher.”

“Yes, yes, thank you, Ramere. I’ll just stay here while you show Ruth her room. Thank you.” He sank onto the bed, which was made of larger leaves and moss. The bed held him for a split second, then seemed to swallow him up. He sank into the mossy mattress and his whole body disappeared—apart from his legs.

Ramere quickly leaped over and rapped the head of the bed sharply. It recoiled and spit Tom out, leaving him sprawled on the floor, covered with bits of moss and small twigs. Ruth stared at the bed, mouth open. Is this how my bed is going to treat me? she wondered.

“The only reason you are being treated like this is because you insulted the bridge earlier. Be more careful next time. If any of our plants treat you poorly again, tell it sharply: Ya carthuim! It should release you after that.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Tom asked.

“Then you’ll have to wait for further assistance. They will not harm you, but they will scare you.”

Tom repeated the words that Ramere had instructed and when he had pronounced it to her satisfaction, she led Ruth out of his room and up another flight of stairs. And another. And across another bridge. Just when Ruth was going to ask Ramere when they were going to get there, she stopped at another room. Ruth stepped inside. It was beautiful.

The bed was made of moss like Tom’s, but its covers looked like rose petals woven together. Four saplings grew at either corner of the bed, and their leaves and branches stretched across to each other, weaving into one another and creating a canopy. Morning Glories were twisted up each sapling, and each one was bloomed and fully open, even though it was well past noon.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Ramere. Who made this?” she asked.

“We elves do not make these rooms. The plants make them where and how they see fit. They heard you were coming and created a room just for you. By the looks of it, I would say they like you.”

“Unlike Tom,” Ruth added with a giggle.

“Yes, and I assure you, they will not harm Tom. Killing is not their way, nor is causing pain.”

After Ramere left, Ruth became acquainted with her room. The bed was the only object in the room, but it had quite a personality. Ruth slipped into the bed to see how it felt, and wrinkled the rose petal covers in the process. Two of the sapling’s branches swooped down and straightened it to perfection. Ruth giggled. There was no pillow; the mattress just raised itself at the head. She lay down and got comfortable, and one of the saplings tapped her shoulder. She turned to look at it and saw it was holding a nightgown made of ferns and pale pink rose petals.

“No, I’m not going to bed yet,” she told it. “Just trying it out. It’s only noonish anyway.” The nightgown melted into the leaves.

“Lila would like this bed,” Ruth murmured to herself, thinking of her best friend—her only friend—on Earth. Lila liked fancy things. And nature. Ruth closed her eyes.

The Sorceress was pacing in a dark room. Kalem was standing in the corner, along with the short creature Ruth had seen in earlier visions, Kilp.

“You mean to tell me, Kalem, that you had the dwarf and the girl, and they both got away because you let your men drink?!” the Sorceress practically shrieked.

“Well—ma’am—Sorceress. I—I didn’t think it would hurt all that much, they needed to sleep and I thought this way they would sleep longer. I thought I’d be able to wake them up when I was ready for some rest.”

“Liar,” she snarled. “Spem!” A white light blasted from her fingers and into Kalem’s head.

“I couldn’t make them stop.” Kalem’s eyes were blank and glassy and he spoke these words.

“Thank you, Kalem.” The Sorceress’s face was twisted from fury. “Kilp, you may go.”

Kill didn’t move.

“NOW!” she thundered.

He scurried from the room, head ducked, hat tucked under his arm.

“Now. Remember what I told you in the beginning?” she asked Kalem. “I told you not to come back if you didn’t have the McKenzie girl! She is dangerous! She must be stopped! Do you know what she’s doing? Do you even know that much?” she snapped.

“We believe she’s after the Keys. To rescue her father.” Kalem was still under the truth spell. “And with all due respect, I don’t think she’s dangerous.”

The Sorceress leaned her forehead on her hand in exasperation. “You are no longer any help to me. Ra domenish lapelty.”

Blue sparks shot into Kalem’s body and he stopped moving altogether. Then he began to shiver and writhe. He fell to the floor and began to shake and moan. Blue static covered his body, his eyes were wide and frightened. He gave a last pained scream and his body fell silent.

The Sorceress smiled smugly. “Kilp!” she roared. He scuttled into the room, stopping short at the sight of Kalem.

“Get someone to remove this body. Now!”

“Yes sir. Ma’am! Madam Sorceress.” He twisted his cap so hard it ripped and rushed out of the room, taking care not to look at the body.

The Sorceress sighed. “I’m surrounded by fools!”