But as it turned out, Rock Bottom became something more than a spot for the caravanserais, something much more than a place for taverns or shops. A new class of visitors arrived. These were more or less criminals – criminals from both lands, because even criminals needed a safe place to do their deals. There were the real hardcore ones: smugglers, robbers, killers, mercenaries and distinguished provocateurs and schemers and politicians. And there were the lesser criminals: thieves, spies, snitches, conmen and the middlemen. They all came to Rock Bottom, to set up their secret deals: some organizations that wanted to smuggle some contrabands, some other organizations that wanted to rob the smugglers of those contrabands, and the same smugglers who wanted to buy a safe passage for their contrabands, some leader who wanted to stir shits up, some backbenchers who wanted that leader permanently disappeared, and the same leader who wanted those backbenchers permanently silenced. They could find all they wanted here, in the criminal underworld, right here in Rock Bottom. And the Oxtrail Tavern became the heart of the many establishments that catered for these exquisite needs of the travellers; connecting those people with the supplies to those with the demands.
But why here? Why did it prosper? What else was on the table that the copycat and the supplanted, the likes of Boarbourg and Dogbay and Wolfglen did not have? The security, of course. The protection that was offered, packaged and sold by the boss to all the establishments was unparalleled. Though law officers never existed except within the safety of their walls, rivals and enemies of the criminals occasionally showed up and tried to mess things up. The boss made sure that these illegitimate customers would be properly dealt with, onsite and offsite. Once upon a time, when Rock Bottom was just set up, a garrison of foot soldiers from Riverhaven thought that they could use some of their muscles and armaments to extradite a felon but long before they could reach the bank of Rock Bottom, they obligingly went back once Vamuk and his brothers killed a sufficient number of them. Then, Boarbourg tried their hands to wrestle back their prominence in the trade route. It went sour very quickly. In fact, their hands never made it over their moats. Next, about three score years ago, Castle Del Marr tried something more adventurous. The virtuous king of the castle declared war and launched several attacks on Rock Bottom, with the admirable aim to extinguish the fire of hell released by these transgressors, but each attacked was defeated and the whole noble campaign came to an abrupt end when the boss tore the right arm from the king’s body so that he could never sign another declaration of war or a letter of marque ever again. After that event, disastrous for the castle but plain sailing for everyone else in Rock Bottom, the reputation of the boss grew and so did Oxtrail. But anyone who knew the place knew the other person. The boss was the big umbrella but the one holding it was the bartender. He was the one doing all the work: the managing and the directing. But he was not here from the very beginning.
Sometime, about one score years after the first construction of the tavern, he came wondering through and asked for a job. The boss, who already had something else going, thought that it was rather bizarre that a fairy would come and asked for a job since the fairies and the darker beings did not really mix and fairies had no use for money. They had everything they ever wanted in the forest. Why work when you could get them for free. But the boss hired him anyway since he had nothing against fairies and he was rather pluralistic for a being that came from the desert. He began work at the tavern, which was then a simple one-building affair, and slowly but steadily it grew from one building to a massive sprawling complex of woods and bricks, complete with pools and baths, front and back gardens, bars and brothels, restaurants and cafes, banks and casinos, hidden compartments, secret chambers, underground halls and an expansive graveyard. He put a structure on the boss’ endeavours. Everything was available, well, almost everything. By now, it had been open for more than a century and the reputation was speckless. He was only known as the bartender or the manager, but very few actually knew his name, Finkler and even fewer knew his actual name.
******
A beam of light landed on the elf’s face. It was already morning. The ray came through a hole in the wall, which Oldbark had opened up specifically for the purpose of waking him up. It was another clear bright day. The sun had already risen for a while. Its heat was waking up the land. All lives began their daily cycle according to the light.
The ray burned the elf’s face. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The light was blinding. He got up and sat there for a while recollecting his thought. The puddle had dried up in the night and the mud caked on his hair and face and clothes. He looked around like he was lost. But slowly, the memory came back: the fight with the lizardman, the fight with the boss, the crash into the river, the peculiar little girl, the vines that hung him up, the fume. It all came back. But the girl was gone.
Where did she go? the elf thought. There’s no door. How did she get out? She must have climbed through one of those holes.
He stood up. “Oh, what a mess,” he said while looking all over himself. He brushed his face, his hair and his clothes to get rid of the mud. But he was still dirty. Then he went over to the root wall, took an aim and jumped through one of the large enough holes. These holes were actually gaps between the roots. Soon, he was outside, standing on the roots and he saw the forest he was in. The sun was entirely subdued except for one column of light shining through a hole in the foliage. It was very high with many tree trunks growing straight up to support it. These were the pillars of the forest. Stringy aerial roots dropped down from the top branches. Once these roots reached the ground, they would thicken and become pillars themselves. The tree trunk whose roots he was standing on was gigantic. It would take a dozen elves to hug it all around. This is probably the main trunk, the elf thought. This whole forest is just one tree.
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“You should wash up. You’re very dirty.” The voice came from the other side of the giant trunk. It was the little girl. The elf jumped over a few roots and saw her sitting on a swing made of vines. She was swinging back and forth in that column of morning sun. “Good morning,” the elf said. “It’s a lovely day to be on a swing.” The elf felt good despite the dirt all over his body and face. He even managed to smile.
“There’s a creek over there. Go and wash yourself. Then, eat some of the berries. The ones growing from the vines. They are not poisonous.”
“Yeah, I think I better wash up. Thank you for pointing that out.” The elf thought that he was in an unusually good mood and unusually polite.
He found the creek. It was a small creek and the water was clear like the ones in the Everglades, his home. He had always enjoyed bathing and swimming in the rivers at home. The water was very cold. It came directly from the melting ice of the Blue Mountains. One cannot find purer water than that.
The elf immersed himself into the water and the dirt immediately washed off. Elven clothes were easy to wash. With running water, they were almost self-cleaning. When out of the water, they self-dried. Unlike the Turtle Patch, which was kept a secret, the elves sold these clothes and the linen to all the other lands and made quite a hefty sum every year.
After filling his water bottle, the elf found himself eating the berries. They looked like a smaller version of the blackcurrants. They were chewy and sweet. “Emm, this is good.” The elf muttered to himself. He did not realize that he was really that hungry. And he also did not realize that his chest pain and all the bruises were miraculously gone.
“Have you finished eating? We have to go. The sun is getting pretty high up now.”
“Oh, sorry. Do you want some? I can pick some for you.”
“Nooope. Don’t eat too much. Or, you won’t go hungry for a long time.”
“It’s that so. I’ve got a big stomach. Where do we need to go?”
“I’m on a quest. And you are coming with me,” the girl announced.
“A quest? What quest?” asked the elf, still munching the berries.
“I’m looking for a pea. I’ve been looking for months now but I still can’t find one. Maybe you can. You have better eyes, and better nose,” replied the girl.
“Do I? Who told you that?”
“Oldbark told me. By the way, I’ve given you a name. It’s Nemo. It’s a good name for a fish.”
“I’m not a fish. My name is Darius. Darius of the Everglades.”
“I don’t like the name Darius. It’s not a good name for a fish. I’ll call you Nemo.”
The elf thought that the girl was quite impossible. “Then, what’s your name?”
“I’m Elena. Elena of Here.”
“Okay. Elena of Here. I can’t go on a quest with you cause … it’s not my quest. I’ve things to do.”
“No, you must come with me. It’s your quest now. Because you’re my pet. And pets follow their owner. So Nemo, come along, now. We don’t have much time. It’s a long walk. It would probably take days.”
Strange enough, the elf found himself following the girl. For whatever reason that had yet to descend upon him, he was following the girl, trailing behind her closely across the forest. And the feeling of such obedience was pretty weird.
“Oldbark has made a route for us. So, the first part of the journey will be easy.”
“Is the whole forest Oldbark?” asked Darius, looking in every direction as he walked.
“Yes. Oldbark has been growing for years, thousands of years. He’s so large now that it’ll take hours to walk out from him.”
The forest was indeed very large, very dense, and very quiet. He could not see very far. The sight was always blocked by trunks or bushes. And the forest looked boring. Every direction seemed more or less the same. All the trunks looked the same. The aerial roots dropping from high up looked the same. The vines clinging to the trunks and branches, the ferns growing out of the barks, they all looked the same. And since everywhere looked the same, there was no way to determine the direction. He could not even see the sun or feel any winds. He was amazed that the little girl knew where to go.
“How do you know which direction to go? Everywhere looks the same. And there’s no trail, or markings. Not even a big rock.”
“Don’t worry. Oldbark is leading me. I can see the route but you can’t.”
The elf trudged along behind the girl. They made a lot of turns to avoid the tree trunks and the vertical roots that clumped together. Sometimes, bushes were in the way. The forest floor was covered with withering leaves and grasses only grew at certain places. It was soft and uneven. Surface roots hid beneath the decaying leaves that the elf inadvertently kicked and stumbled upon. The girl just walked along like it was a stroll in the park. Without the girl, he would probably be lost.
But the elf noticed that, in a way, the forest seemed to be well organized. Unlike the forests that he had been to, which had a certain randomness in its growth, a chaotic scene of the struggle for survival, this one did not. It was neat like it was planned. Every trunk and bushes were exactly where they should be: to create turnings, to block the path, to give way. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing seemed redundant. There was not even a fallen branch or a decaying tree stump or a rock or a whatever anywhere.
“How can anybody get out of this place? It feels like a maze.”
“If Oldbark doesn’t let you leave, you can’t leave.”
“Then, what will happen to them?” the elf asked, just to keep up with the conversation.
“They will die here.”
On hearing that, a chill ran down his spine. No wonder it is so quiet. Not even a tweet from a bird. “How long did you say we have to walk?”
“A few hours.”
“That’s a bit long.”
“Don’t worry. It won’t be long now. Oldbark has enchanted our route. So it’ll be faster. It’s like taking ten steps in one. So follow closely. You won’t want to be left behind.”
“Taking ten steps in one, huh. I’ve never heard of that.”