But they did not let him die. A magician of the Order helped to bring him back out of the dark.
Djok often had dreams. He was asleep and dreaming, somewhere far, far away from the stone box that some evildoer had had him thrown into. The archer hardly remembered any of his dreams, except for one.…
In this dream a guard came and opened the door of the cell and said with a cheerful smile that he knew Djok was innocent and the crime had been committed by the servants of the Master. The Master was waiting.… After that Djok wept and squirmed about on his straw. And then he fell asleep again.
Afterwards there was a very hasty trial, which he could hardly even remember. Just bright light in his eyes, the pale blobs of lots of faces, and voices talking. They asked him about something and he answered.… One man showed the tall judge his quiver of arrows and then took out an arrow that was broken and covered in dried blood.
“I’m not guilty,” Djok whispered. But no one listened to him and the clerk of the court scraped his pen across his paper. “It was the servants of the Master.…”
The court questioned Lotr, who was red-faced and sweaty, and so frightened that he stammered as he looked around and spoke. Yes, Djok was at my house that day.… Yes, he was upset when he heard that the elfin prince, may he dwell in the light, wanted to take part in the tournament.… Yes, there was something about the look in his eyes.… Why didn’t I notice that immediately, old fool that I am?
And there were other people, too.… Friends, acquaintances, relatives … Yes, he had wanted to win.… Yes, he could have lost to the elf.… Yes, all his life he had been a vain and malicious fellow. Yes, what a terrible disgrace!
Then there was Lia. Yes, Djok had told her he would do anything to win the tournament that day.… He didn’t listen to any more after that, he just kept on whispering one word through his broken lips: “Lia … Lia … Lia.”
It was over very quickly. Everything—his signed confession, his arrow with the blood on it, the testimony from a dozen witnesses—rapidly led the Royal High Court to the only possible conclusion.
When the wooden mallet descended and the old, skinny judge in the black robe and the absurd white wig pronounced the single word, “guilty,” Djok saw the elf who had sat through the whole trial as if he were made of stone look at him and smile. Djok’s trousers were suddenly soaking wet—that smile frightened him far more than all the beatings he had received from men.
* * * They did not execute him, they did something far more terrible than that—they handed him over to the dark elves. An old elf with faded yellow eyes and hair as dry as straw, the same elf who had frightened Djok so badly at the trial, took charge of him in person.
They put him on a cart with shackles on his feet and drove him out of Ranneng.
For Djok the journey to Zagraba was a single, unbroken thread of squeaking wheels, the sky above his head, the guttural voices of elves, and pain. It came every day, biting into his flesh like red-hot pincers, as soon as evening arrived and the elves halted for the night.
This was when Eroch came to the prisoner and took out a little box of steel needles. The elf never spoke, but every time after the torture, Djok thought that his time had come and he was about to die at any moment. And he waited for his death to come with joyful anticipation.
But the elves were too careful to lose their prisoner as a result of torture. When the pain became absolutely unbearable, when it threatened to expand and shatter his head open, an elfin shaman appeared and relieved his suffering. And the next evening it was repeated all over again. Day after day Djok suffered absolutely unbearable torment, dying, cursing the gods, coming back to life, weeping, and dying again. There was no end to this terrible dream.…
He did not remember much about Zagraba … green leaves, tinkling brooks, cold, and pain.… They took him somewhere, showed him to someone, hundreds of elfin faces with fangs, an old elf with a black coronet on his head, silence, and more pain.…
* * * For some reason all the trees here grew upside down. So did the grass. And the sun set upward. The elves walked upside down on the ground with their heads downward.
For a long time he couldn’t understand what was happening. He only realized the truth when he noticed that the blood oozing feebly from a cut on his cheek was falling on his forehead instead of his chin, and then dripping off onto the ground that was above his head.
It was very simple; he was hanging head down on a tree with his feet securely tied to a thick branch. How long had he been there like this? An hour? A day?
It turned dark and night came to the forest, and stars began shining through the crowns of the trees down below.
There was nobody guarding him. There was no need. He could never escape from the elfin spider web rope, and how far could a man half dead from torture run through a strange forest?
The archer plunged back into oblivion, trying to overcome the pain. He was woken by a quiet rustling in the grass, and when he opened his eyes he saw a dark female silhouette.
An elfess, he thought.
The person standing there said nothing, and neither did he. He was indifferent; he had already grown used to the fact that many elves came just to look at him. Let her look, as long as she didn’t beat him. Suddenly she laughed.
“Who … are you?”
It was hard for him to form the words; he hadn’t spoken for a long time. Most of the time he simply howled in pain.
“You poor thing,” the woman sighed.
“Lia? Is that really you?” he gasped, unable to believe his ears.
“Lia? Well, you can call me that if you like,” she said, walking out of the shadow into the moonlight.
She was just as beautiful as she had been in the garden, on that cursed day when the elfin prince was killed. Light brown hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones, full lips.
Lia. His Lia. The one who betrayed him.
“But … How?”
How could this girl be here, so far away from home, in the heart of the country of the elves?
“The servants of the Master can do much more than that.”
“The Master? I’m not guilty! I couldn’t possibly have done it!”
“I know,” she said with a smile.
“You know. Then why didn’t you say anything? You have to tell the elves, you have to explain to them—”
“It’s too late. The elves won’t listen to anyone, they’re thirsting for vengeance. They won’t try to find out if you’re really guilty or not for at least a few months. But unfortunately you don’t have that much time. The elves have decided to make an exception—tomorrow the Green Leaf is waiting for you.”
Djok squirmed on his rope and started swaying like a pendulum. He sobbed in terror. He did not want to die like that.
“But you have a choice, you fool.” Lia walked up close to him, and he caught the scent of her strawberry perfume. “Either the dark elves will make an example of you with a form of execution that they have only ever used on the orcs before or…”
“Or?” Djok repeated like an echo.
“… or you will become a faithful servant of the Master.”
She spoke for a very long time, and when she finished, Djok said only a single word.
