Because Of The Wonderful Things He Does
1.
SPLAT!
Dalamar sat up. The little house he had rented while the Tower of High Sorcery was being repainted was tilted to the side, and there was a curious, high-pitched noise outside, like bees buzzing, and the smell of cotton candy. Dalamar hated cotton candy. He got out of bed and put on his robes, walked to the front door, and looked out.
"For the love of Nuitari!" he snarled, as forty-six little faces peered up at him. "I've been transported into Kendermore! What a bother. Now I'll have to -- "
"Kendermore? What's that?" one of the little people asked.
"Maybe he's talking about his house," one of the others said.
Dalamar fixed the Munchkins with a stern eye. "You're telling me you aren't kender?"
"Er, no." The little people began backing away slowly, seeing the pointy-eared, dark-robed man glaring at them.
Then one of them pointed into the sky, and a babble of awe and delight arose among the small inhabitants of this unusually brightly colored land. Dalamar turned and saw a great bubble of pink light coming toward them. He raised an eyebrow, watching with interest as the bubble expanded, turned into a redheaded human woman wearing an enormous pink gown and a beatific smile, which quickly melted into alarm as she caught sight of Dalamar.
"Are you a good witch or a bad witch?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Bad." Dalamar smiled.
"Um, how nice." The woman in the pink gown drew herself up. "I am Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. You have just killed the Wicked Witch of the East. Look." She pointed, and Dalamar saw feet sticking out from under his rented bungalow, clad in a pair of gaudy red pumps.
"Well, well. What a shame." Dalamar murmured with fake remorse. Then he regarded Glinda with speculation; she wasn't bad looking, but the huge puffy gown had to go, and of course her ridiculous wand, which she kept waving in his --
POOF! Dalamar looked down. The red sparkly pumps were now on his feet, sticking out garishly from under his robes. He frowned.
"What are you doing? I don't want these!" He tried to pry them off, but they wouldn't budge. "What, do you think I'm a transvestite or something?"
"Well," Glinda said primly, "you are wearing a dress -- "
"It's a robe!" Dalamar snarled. "Now, get these hideous things off my feet and tell me where I am and how to get back to Palanthas!"
"You're in Oz, of course, in the land of the Munchkins." There was a tinkling giggle from around them. Dalamar rolled his eyes. "And as for...Palanthas? Where's that?"
Dalamar stared at the creampuff sorceress in front of him, then sighed. "Just get the shoes off!"
Glinda said something magical and ridiculous, like "bibbety bobbety boo!" and the shoes appeared in her hands. She held them out to Dalamar. "Here. Take them, they're yours since you killed the Witch."
"Oh, all right!" He shoved them under his arm. "So how do I get out of here and back to Palanthas?"
Glinda blinked, then smiled her sugary smile. "I have no idea. You'll have to go ask the Wizard!"
"Which one?" Dalamar asked.
"There is only one, silly!" Glinda said, her hands on her hips. "In the Emerald City! The Great Wizard of Oz!"
"Only one wizard in this whole land, eh?" Dalamar narrowed his eyes. "I suppose you don't count, or her?" He gestured at the splattered body of the Wicked Witch. Glinda shrugged.
"I don't know. But, ah, even if you are a bad witch, the Munchkins will be eternally grateful to you. The Wicked Witch held them in bondage, and you've freed them by killing her!"
After that, Dalamar was going to say that he didn't care either way, he just wanted to go home, but he was set upon by a crowd of Munchkins, who proved every bit as annoying as kender, trying to make speeches in their high, squeaky voices, forcing lollipops on him, and generally being a nuisance. Finally, after threatening to barbeque the lot of them and scaring the little buggers off, which caused Glinda to glare at him, Dalamar figured out where the damn Yellow Brick Road was in the middle of the Munchkin village and started off down it, the ruby slippers under his arm and a lollipop sticking out of his pocket, shaking his head and muttering darkly to himself.
The Munchkins crept out from under the bushes where they'd been cowering, coming to stand behind Glinda as they watched Dalamar heading toward the Emerald City.
"Well! At least the Witch is dead!" said the mayor.
"Yeah! And at least HE didn't want to stick around!" said another, shaking a tiny fist at Dalamar's retreating figure.
"He's certainly a snob!" Glinda folded her arms and lifted her chin. "Bad witch indeed! Let West have her way with him, then!"
2.
"What's your problem?" Dalamar asked the Tin Man.
"Mmmfrrrgghhhaaannn" he said.
"What?"
"Mmmmeerrll ggghhaannn."
"Oil can?" Dalamar looked around. He saw a small metal container with a spout, and after greasing up the Tin Man, he set it down and started off. When he heard the clanking getting closer and closer, he sighed.
"What exactly is it you want?" he said, wheeling to face the Tin Man, who clattered to a halt and stared at him hopefully.
"Where are you going?"
"Not that it is any of your business, you gnome-built freak, but I am going to the Emerald City. I seek another wizard."
"Really?" The Tin Man brightened, or as much as one could do with a face made of sheet metal. "Can I come? Maybe the Wizard will give me a heart!"
"What do you want a heart for?" Dalamar asked, then groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead, having already been through this once before. The Tin Man immediately launched into a ditty, capering and gesturing to music that seemed to come from nowhere, and Dalamar gritted his teeth, reached out, and clamped a hand over the Tin Man's mouth.
"Mmmrrrgg!" said the Tin Man. Dalamar turned him around and pointed.
"See that?" He waved a hand at a smoldering pile of straw and rags that lay behind him in the road. "That's you, if you don't leave me alone. No more singing. I've had a bad enough day as it is, being accosted by candy-colored kender, assaulted by scarecrows, and having a prom queen of a sorceress accuse me of cross-dressing. Now, begone before I turn you into a flatiron!"
He watched as the Tin Man ran off terrified into the woods, and as the clatter died away, Dalamar realized he was hungry, having broken down and eaten the lollipop some time ago. Spying an apple tree, he went over and pulled off a bright red fruit.
"Hey!" said the tree, and started to grab him.
"Asth brrk mrplen..." Though the spell was slightly muffled by the mouthful of apple Dalamar was chewing, it still worked. The tree burst into flames, and around him, the angry muttering of the other trees died into an abrupt, intimidated silence. Dalamar peered around to make certain they'd all gotten the message, then, gathering a few more apples (nicely baked by his magical fire) he left.
From the branches of the burning tree, a figure leaped out and threw itself to the ground, slapping at flames and sparks in its black dress and pointy hat.
"Damn! He's better than I thought!" The Wicked Witch of the West narrowed her eyes at the retreating figure. She grabbed her broom and sped off.
After fending off the advances of a large, wussy lion, who Dalamar immediately turned into a kitten and sent mewling away into the bushes, the dark elf was getting impatient and tired. How much further away did this accursed wizard live? All Dalamar needed to find out was which way to Palanthas, and he could magic himself there, but no one seemed to know -- not the sugary sorceress in the pink dress, not the annoying Munchkins, not the (now ashen) scarecrow or the metal man or the talking lion. What a frustrating place this was. He was about to look for a road sign at the crossroads when he felt himself getting sleepy.
He looked around, then sneered. "Oldest trick in the book!" The dark elf said a word of magic, and immediately the effects of the poppy field died away.
He stared down at the tacky ruby slippers still clenched under his arm. "Maybe I can trade them for a map!" he said in disgust, and as he set off through the field toward the green towers in the distance, he thought he heard a cackle of, not malice, but appreciation.
3.
As he trudged up to the gates of the Emerald City, Dalamar was pissed off.
First of all, no one he met here seemed to have a lick of sense, bursting into song at any given time without warning. Second of all, it was late, and he was tired. Thirdly, as he shoved open the large, green gate, he was overwhelmed by the sounds of a blaring brass band and several townspeople ran up to him, their green faces shining with delight. Their expressions of joy quickly melted, however, when Dalamar snarled at them to go away, and no, he didn't want a haircut, a pedicure, or a new dress. "And it's a ROBE, damnit! A ROBE! Not a DRESS!" The Emerald Citizans scurried away, casting frightened glances at each other.
Dalamar caught one of them by the collar and dragged him back. The man's green moustaches quivered in fear as the dark eyes of the elf bored into his. "Where's this great and powerful Oz I've been hearing so much about?"
"Um, er, over there, sir!" the man babbled, pointing. Dalamar let go of the man, took a firm grip on the ruby slippers, and started in the direction the man had pointed.
A blue horse drawing a carriage nearly ran him down. Dalamar jumped out of the way just in time. When he looked up, the horse was red. He blinked; now it was green. A minion of Takhisis! Here! There must be only one explanation -- it was his former Shalafi, back from the Abyss in disguise! Overcome with exhaustion, rage, and caffeine withdrawal (had these fools never heard of tarbean tea?) Dalamar raised a hand and shouted something.
There was a puff of black smoke, a shrill whinny, and the smell of cooking horsemeat. Dalamar smiled with satisfaction and turned to go, ignoring the anguished cries of the carriage driver and the gasps of passers-by. He reached for the huge door knocker, thought better of it, and simply pushed the door open.
"Hey! What are you -- "
"Out of my way." Dalamar said grimly, ignoring the man's attempts to force him back through the door.
"The Wizard is seeing no one today!" the guard protested.
"Is that so? Well, let me tell you, I am a wizard myself, and I'd like to see if this Oz character is as 'great' and 'terrible' as he claims he is. You haven't seen anything until your master's branded you like a steer with his bare hand!" Dalamar said testily. "Let me put these damn slippers down and I'll show -- "
"That won't be necessary!" the guard sputtered. "I'll, er, I'll go announce you!" He ran off. Dalamar picked up the ruby slippers and made his way down a long hall that opened on a vast audience chamber.
A huge, floating head appeared over a throne. "I AM OZ!" it shouted. "WHAT DO YOU WANT OF -- "
"Stuff it, you cheap Houdini!" Dalamar waved a hand and the giant head disappeared. He looked around, then walked over to a curtain booth where a small, portly man was pulling levers and speaking into a funnel thing. The dark elf took hold of the man and wheeled him around.
"Pay no attention to that man behind that -- oh, forget it. What bizarre boon do you want? The last crew that came through here wanted beauty, dignity, and the breasts of an eighteen year old porn star."
"I am not interested in such things!" Dalamar said sneeringly. "At least, not the first two. And I'd rather they went to someone else!"
"Oh, good." The little man eyed Dalamar up and down. "Seeing as you're in a dress and carrying those shoes and all. I kind of though you were a member of the He-Man Woman-Hater's Club, if you get my drift -- "
"FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT A DRAG QUEEN!" Dalamar shouted, shaking the little man so hard that his teeth clattered in his head. "I SIMPLY NEED TO KNOW THE WAY BACK TO PALANTHAS! WHERE IN THE ABYSS IS IT? WHERE?" His yell turned into a sob and he let go of the Wizard and clutched the ruby slippers to his chest, weeping pitifully. "I've had midgets chasing me, scarecrows trying to dance with me, tin humans asking me for hearts, lions attacking then losing their nerve and peeing all over my shoes, people trying to force candy and leg waxes and the gods know what else... I just want to go home!"
Oz stared at him in sympathy. Then he sighed. "I don't know the answer to that, young man. I've no idea where Palanthas is, actually. They only call me great and terrible because I've got better special effects than Spielberg and more money than Gates. Besides, it's a heap better than running the shoe store back in Iowa."
Dalamar blinked, then suddenly he sagged against the wall. "Great. Now what? Am I to live out my days here, surrounded by Munchkins and constantly being accosted by golems and talking cats? For the love of Takhisis!" He held a hand to his forehead in despair.
"Well, um, actually, there's someone who might be able to help you." the Wizard offered cautiously. "But I wouldn't advise it."
"Why not?" Dalamar asked, his despair vanishing.
"She's, um, wicked."
"So?" Dalamar grabbed his robe and shook the fabric at the Wizard. "Do you think I wear these to hide the dirt? Where is she?"
"Oh, west of here. Can't miss it, it's a big, dark, scary-looking tower thing surrounded by horrible guardians, and no one will go near it, even me." Oz shivered.
Dalamar smiled.
"I like her already."
4.
After leaving the Wizard and the Emerald City, and walking for what seemed to be another 1,000 miles, Dalamar found himself standing at the edge of a dark, twisted wood.
There were signs pointing back the way he came, with "DANGER!" and "I'D TURN BACK IF I WERE YOU!" He snorted, took a firm grasp on the ruby slippers, and started through the forest.
Above him, a flock of ravens chirruped and screeched. He peered into the cloudy sky. Ravens, as he recalled, didn't have such long tails, nor did they have four feet...Squinting his eyes, he was surprised when the leader of the flying monkeys descended and started to lay hands on him.
"Bugger off!" Dalamar said irritably, waving a hand in a careless fashion. The monkeys wheeled overhead, then dove suddenly, not at him, but at a pile of bananas that appeared on the road behind the dark elf. He could hear them chattering excitedly and had to dodge the occasional peel flung into his path, but otherwise he was pleased.
The head monkey, clutching a half-eaten banana in both hands, suddenly flew forward and hovered in the air right in front of him, its wings flapping gently.
"What do you want?" Dalamar sighed. "A brain? A heart? Courage? A kitten?"
The monkey pursed its lips, then pointed up the road, regarding him quizzically. Dalamar nodded. "Yes, I'm going to see her. And yes, I am, er, wicked as well."
Apparently satisfied, the monkey nodded, chattered something unintelligible at him, then flew back to the rapidly disappearing pile of bananas. Dalamar kept walking.
He came to a high, rugged mountaintop, upon which sat a twisted, dark castle. He could hear chanting and bootsteps ringing as he climbed up. Coming over the top of a rocky ledge, he saw the palace guard marching into the gates of the Wicked Witch's castle.
"Yo! Wait up!" he yelled.
They all turned around and stared at him in surprise, then snarling, ran toward him, weapons at the ready to spear him through. Dalamar dropped the ruby slippers and waved his hands in the air, chanting. The guards' weapons turned into trout. He picked up the shoes again and started forward.
"What in the name of Ozma is going on -- Oh. It's you." The Wicked Witch stood at the top of the stairs. She cackled. "I knew you'd be turning up sooner or later. Guards, let him in. And get rid of this mess!" she added as a trout flopped by.
Dalamar approached the Witch slowly. She was as tall as he, a bit on the skinny side, and with that weird green skin, but for all that, there was something about her that made Dalamar smile with evil delight and say, "My lady, I am honored."
"Are you?" The Witch eyed him speculatively. "That should make things easier then." There was a puff of red smoke, then she was standing before him. "Give me those shoes."
"Why should I?" Dalamar drew himself up. "Glinda said they were mine, for killing the Wicked Witch of the East!"
"Who happened to be my sister!" the Witch said with a frown. "Not that I got along with her all that well, the dried-up old prune. But as it happens, those slippers are mine by right. I don't care what that simpering bitch had to say. Now hand them over!"
"No!" Dalamar said with dignity, raising his chin. "And if you dare take them from me, you'll be sorry!"
"Will I?" The Witch's eyes narrowed. "What do you want with them anyway? Or are you planning on wearing them yourself?"
"NO...I...Am...Not!" Dalamar said through clenched teeth. "But give me one good reason why I should give them to YOU. It's not as though they wouldn't clash with what you're wearing anyway! Not to mention your unusual hue!"
"What's wrong with my skin color, you pointed-eared freak?" the Witch screeched. "Damn you! GIVE ME THOSE SHOES!" She raised her broom.
"All right, you asked for it." Dalamar was at the end of his patience. He'd been accosted, harrassed, tormented, made to walk miles and miles, faced with idiots of literally every description, and had it insinuated by all and sundry that he was a drag queen. He narrowed his eyes. "Take them if you can!"
The Witch shouted something obscene which made the remaining guards drop their trout and hurry away. She pointed her broomstick at him and a ball of flame shot out of it. Dalamar countered with a bolt of lightning. Their cursing and screaming rang through the castle while the guards cowered in the hallways, wondering if hurling the trout at the stranger would get him to stop attacking their mistress.
***
The head of the Palace Guard tiptoed out of the corridor where he and the others had been hiding. It was worse than he expected. There were scorch marks everywhere. The Witch's broom lay in smoldering splinters on the stairs. Dead, burned trout filled the lower chambers of the castle with a malodorous stench. There was no sign of his mistress or the pointed-eared stranger.
He tiptoed upstairs, seeing more evidence of their battle. In the Witch's laboratory, the great hourglass was cracked and broken, and her crystal ball had rolled off into a corner from its stand. Shattered glass lay everywhere.
The head guardsman left and continued on up the stairs. He caught sight of the Witch's pointy hat lying on a step. Then he saw something dark on another step, and broke into a run.
When he burst into the Wicked Witch's bedchamber, he came to a complete halt and stood in embarassed silence.
Dalamar and the Wicked Witch lay in the bed, the covers pulled up under their arms, smoking cigarettes. The Witch's hair was pulled down out of its knot and lay in green-black strands over her shoulders. In her other hand, she was holding a riding crop. Dalamar was wearing the ruby slippers, which poked out from under the blankets. He was smiling. So was the head flying monkey.
The Witch eyed the guard evenly as he stood there flushing furiously. "Well, Twittle, what do you want?"
"I, er, uh, my lady..." He backed hastily out of the room. The other guards were standing at the bottom of the stairs, halfheartedly cleaning up the burned and smelly trout.
"Well? What happened? Is our mistress safe?"
The head guardsman just shook his head. "Let's get this mess cleaned up before she comes down here." He looked up as he heard a noise coming from upstairs. "On second thought," he said, "perhaps we've got time for a beer. Ludsworth, get that cask out of our quarters. I need a drink, very, very much."
***
They got dressed hurriedly, after giving the monkey some more bananas and peeling the melted wax off the floor.
"I was wrong. They suit you excellently." Dalamar said, struggling into the robe which seemed awfully tight, but in his haste to be gone, he paid it little attention.
"You're just saying that because I got out the ball and chain," the Witch returned. She was admiring her feet in the mirror. Then she cackled evilly. "With these shoes, I can rule all of Oz! I'll enslave Glinda and squash that accursed Wizard like a bug! AH HA HA HA HAA!"
Far from being alarmed, Dalamar only smiled. "I'm glad to be of service. And now, tell me... WHERE in the name of the gods is Palanthas?"
"You're just like all the rest: wham, bam, thank you ma'am!" the Witch said, but she crossed the room and pulled down a book entitled MAGICAL LANDS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM. Paging through it, she ran a green finger down the page. "Ah ha. Here." She turned the book to show Dalamar. "North, then a right turn at the Quadling forest, then two hundred miles straight on and you're at the borders of Krynn. There you go." She saw relief cross Dalamar's face.
"Thank you!" He sighed gustily. "Nobody else here seems to have any clue whatsoever. How can I ever repay you?"
"You already have," the Witch said sinisterly, smiling as she lifted a ruby-slippered foot. "In more ways than one, though I doubt the guardsmen are going to be able to look me in the eye for weeks."
"No, no, the gratitude is all mine." Dalamar said delicately. "I've never met anyone with such an inventive use for shoestrings and taffy before." He leered, then sighed. "I had better go. My apprentices are probably running riot with the yohimbe as we speak."
"Very well, then." The Witch eyed him up and down. "Come back anytime, Dalamar. Once I've crushed Oz and put Glinda in a boot camp for the rehabilitation of annoying sugary people, you'll never have to face singing scarecrows here again."
"I will," Dalamar said, privately resolving to do nothing of the sort. He cast the spell that would send him home, and as the Witch watched, he faded from sight, leaving only a faint smell of taffy behind.
"Whew." The Witch started upstairs again to get her spare broom and start her conquest of Oz. "I thought he'd never get out of here. I'm still not convinced he isn't a tad... light in the loafers. Or the ruby slippers, I should say…"
***
The dark elf awoke on the floor of his laboratory. Jenna and the others were staring down at him.
"Shalafi!" Jenna cried. "What happened? Your house -- it was destroyed in a tornado! We searched all of Palanthas for you! Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." Dalamar sat up groggily. "I have been, ah, on a magical errand. I am glad the paint reek is gone, although," he added dryly, "I can still smell the yohimbe." Several of the apprentices looked away, muttering to themselves. "Get this place cleaned up. I've got to go visit the landlord and, er, settle my rent."
"Why is there salt water taffy in your hair, Shalafi?" Jenna asked, pointing. She was surprised to see Dalamar flush.
"No reason." Dalamar got up and walked out of the laboratory.
"And why is he wearing a black witch's dress?" asked one of the others.
(end)
Dragonlance Underground is owned and operated by Mages of the Plains.
Dragonlance is a registered trademark of Wizards of the Coast, Inc. All contents are copyright of their respective owners. Please refer to our Legal Page.