by Hank Quense

Frido knew he had to save his beloved shore, but he didn't know how. He set a cup of tea in front of the wizard Mamzer who stared at the wall and wove his hands through his long white beard. Frido sighed. Mamzer wasn't his wizard of first choice, but he was the only one who had responded to the help-wanted ad. Mamzer's resume indicated he had been semi-retired for years and Frido couldn't find out if that was voluntary or forced. Despite that concern, Frido was desperate and he needed wizardly help.

Mamzer's preoccupation increased Frido's nervousness. This morning's meeting could decide the fate of the Shore and he needed Mamzer awake and alert. Frido cleared his throat, but the stoop-shouldered, large-paunched old man continued to stare into the distance as if in a trance.

A knock on the door startled Frido. Before he could respond, the round door opened and a tall elf-maiden entered. "I seek the wizard Mamzer," she said. "My name is Dementia." Her green eyes glared defiantly around the room as if daring Frido to challenge her. She had pretty features and shoulder-length silver hair.

"Come in, my dear." Mamzer broke out of his trance and smiled at Dementia. "Sit down." Dementia approached the table and dropped her bow and arrow and a leather-encased harp.

"I'll get another cup of tea," Frido said and left the room. When he returned, a fierce-looking dwarf had walked through the door.

"You Mamzer?" the dwarf asked. Broad nostrils filled the space over a small mouth.

"Indeed, I am," Mamzer replied.

"Name's Gimlet." He tossed a large war ax in the corner but kept wearing his helmet with a straw-littered spider web stretched between the two horns. He tucked his henna-colored beard into his belt, glanced at the cup Frido carried and said, "None of that colored water for me, boy. Fetch an ale."

"Gimlet, that half-pint is our host, not a servant." Mamzer chuckled. "Frido is the mayor of the Shore and we're all here to help him."

Frido gave Dementia her tea and ran off again. When he returned, he handed Gimlet an ale. The dwarf was the same height as Frido but twice as wide.

Gimlet drained the mug in one gulp. "Who's this?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and thrust his chin at Dementia.

"Dementia," Mamzer said. "She just graduated from Bard and Beautician Trade School and will record our quest for posterity."

Gimlet smiled at the elf and wiggled his ears. They lay amidst a tangle of brown hair that stuck out from beneath his helmet.

Dementia pulled a face but otherwise ignored the dwarf.

"Let's all sit down and discuss our mission," Mamzer said.

Frido sat down but couldn't keep still. He squirmed from anxiety and excitement. There was so much at stake.

"By way of background," Mamzer said, "the Shore has existed virtually unchanged for centuries. Frido's ancestor, the famous what's-his-name, went on a quest, saved the world from evil and ensured the preservation of the Shore. Now all is threatened. Frido, tell us about the problem."

"It's yuks." Frido cleared his throat twice before continuing. "There's a gang of them approaching the Shore. They're building roads using black stuff. Asphalt they call it."

"Road's ain't bad," Gimlet said. "They help you get to wherever you gotta go."

"I agree," Frido replied. "The roads will help our farmers get their produce to market a lot faster. But it's not just the roads. The yuks plan to build houses alongside the roads. They'll have to cut down thousands of trees to build those houses and an influx of new residents will change the character of the Shore. They also plan to build a gambling casino."

"Who's doing this?" Dementia asked.

"The yuk leader is named Freddie Mac. My bailiff says he runs a big loan-sharking operation and is using the profits to build the roads."

"You're the mayor. Don't let 'em build anything." Gimlet gave a savage nod with his head.

"I told Freddie Mac I won't issue permits for the houses, but he doesn't care. My problem, you see, isn't the roads or the casino. It's the houses. We need the casino to provide jobs. Jobs will keep our young people from leaving the Shore."

"Nonsense." Mamzer tapped a knuckle on the table. "With yuks, one must take a firm stand. Don't let them set foot in the Shore. Don't let them cut down a single tree. That's why we're here. To stop the desecration of the Shore."

Frido grimaced. Mamzer had decided his mission in life was to preserve the Shore unchanged. Like Freddie Mac, the wizard refused to listen to Frido.

"This ain't a big problem," Gimlet said. "Round up the local militia and drive the yuks to the other side of the Puce Mountains. I'll help 'cause I love to fight yuks."

Frido gawked at the dwarf, alarmed by his ferociousness. "The Shore doesn't have a militia or any weapons."

"With a bit of gold, I can get fifty armed relatives and finish off the yuks in no time."

"Fighting never solves a problem." Frido fidgeted on his chair.

Gimlet rolled his eyes.

"The Shore runs on principles of peacefulness," Frido added, "not violence."

"So, let me summarize," Mamzer said. "To protect the Shore from the yuks, we will employ magic. That will satisfy the half-pint's abhorrence with violence."

"You have enough magical power to stop the yuks?" Dementia gave Mamzer a questioning look.