As wind rushed up from below to great him, the young elf proceeded through a series of acrobatic rolls with uncautious delight.  Up to this point, his fall through the void appeared to be never ending. "You know, Master Irik? Maybe that Dragon was right?"

Devard's choice of conversation starters seemed out of place in the nearly all-consuming darkness and considering the potential direness of the situation.  Especially contrasted with the high-pitched shrieks of pure terror from the only other person joining him in this constant state of free fall.

The cries from the older half of the pair trailed off with the realization that if there were a bottom they'd have hit it by now. "How so?" Irik asked, voice hoarse from what had been five full throttled minutes of screaming.

The same blast of air the younger half of the duo appeared to enjoy thrust Irik's midnight blue robes up past his waist and revealed nothing was being worn underneath.  Pushing a frazzled, gray beard from in front of his face, the elderly gentleman accompanying the happy-go-lucky elf struggled to gain control of his persistent and undignified wardrobe malfunction. 

Laying out, Devard spun himself in a flat circle like the vanes on a windmill, continuing to enjoy this conundrum the two found themselves in and reveling in his ability to explore the concept of weightlessness. "I mean, you really are just a bitter old man, aren't you?" 

Finally gaining control of the unruly bits and pieces of his clothing, Irik corrected the young troublemaker.  "Wizard.  I'm a Wizard."

"So?"

Master Irik heaved a sigh. "Wizardry is a dignified profession!  Unlike yours, my pick-pocketing acquaintance."

"Acquaintance?  That's all?  Here I thought we were friends!"  

"Hardly! You're only here because your father—"

"The king," Devard said, reminding the crotchety wizard who his father was.

"Yes, I know he's the king!  That fact is beside the point."

"He's quite influential, you know?" Sporting a wide smile, Devard added the unnecessary detail.

"And good thing for you! Otherwise your butt would probably be rotting in jail right now.  Instead of just being banished, tagging along, and making my life miserable."

Devard found his center, crossed his legs and sat before the wizard as though he were on solid ground and without a care in the world.  "Actually, the elven term is 'sulsonus'.  More like a suspension.  I just need to prove my worth, and I get back in.  Whereas banishment? That's pretty much permanent exclusion without hope for redemption."

"You'll be lucky if it isn't permanent with those sticky fingers of yours."

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of thief." Devard regarded his colleague with deep offense.

"You are!"

"Collector." Devard wagged a finger at the wizard.

"Of other people's stuff!"

The elf leaned forward.  "Wait. You still mad at me for holding on to that necklace of yours for safekeeping?"

"First," Irik held up a lone finger in response, losing control of his clothing once more.  Lowering his hand to secure the robes, the wizard restarted his thought from the beginning without repeating the gesture.  "First, you stole it!  Second, I never asked for you to keep it safe."

"See, that's what makes me a wonderful friend!  You didn't have to ask.  Besides, if I hadn't been keeping it safe for you, that trio of not so pleasant blokes who came looking for you, and it, might have gotten their hands on it."

"Do you seriously think a wizard of my caliber couldn't handle some common ruffians?"

Devard took thoughtful glances at the blackness below and above.  "You can't even get us out of this fine mess.  For a 'wizard of your caliber' I expected more than screaming like a little girl."

With a raised eyebrow, Irik silently judged his young companion.  "You're mocking me?"

"I mean, well, kinda.  Yeah.  You claim to be powerful and stuff, yet here we are.  You're making zero progress towards getting us out of here."

"Might I remind you, we're 'here' because you couldn't keep your fingers off that jeweled scarab in the wall and sprung a trap."

"Did you see that ruby?  Big as my fist!  You know what we could have bought with that?"

"I don't need stolen property to sustain my standard of living!  Besides, I don't even know where here is.  And what are you doing to help out?"

Devard reclined, fingers locked behind his head, as though comfortably lounging in a chair instead of hurtling infinitely downward.  "Got you to stop screaming and focus on the problem at hand, didn't I?"

Prepared to respond, the wizard checked himself, realizing that, whether or not the thief had intended that outcome, and he probably hadn't, such was indeed the result.  "I should probably work on getting us back on solid ground, shouldn't I?"

"Would be a lot more helpful than finding out if there really is a bottom to this thing at some point.  Because if there is, we're going to make one heck of a splat.  Then I'll never be able to prove my worth and get back into my home."

"Always about you, isn't it?"

"Hey, I like you.  Would hate to see anything bad happen to you.  So, any ideas?"

Irik believed he understood what was happening now.  All it took was a little concentration on his part.  "Back in the College—"

"That's like some sort of Wizard School, right?"

"Wizards, sorcerers, illusionists, mages... various types of magic-users attend the College."

"There's a difference?"

Irik waved the question off.  "Yes.  I'll explain later.  Anyway, in the final year enchantment course we were required to create a bag that could hold more than its apparent volume."

"Bigger on the inside than on the outside is what you're saying?"

"Yes.  You create a portal inside the bag, link it to a small segment of one of the outer planes, and then loop that link back upon itself."

"Interesting."

"Anyway, to get items back out, you reach in and wait for the item you want to sort of fly by and grab it.  I'm thinking this trap works on that same principle.  But on a larger scale."

"And you know how to break this cycle and free us?"

"Theoretically, one of two ways.  First, someone would have to pull us out.  Being as such is unlikely, I instead have to find the seam where the two ends are magically sewn together and break it."

"And you know how to do that, right?"

"There."  Irik pointed to a crack of not so black darkness only visible for a fraction of a second as they whizzed passed.  Not too long afterwards, it passed again. Then again.

"I'll take your word for it.  So, what's your plan?"

"Well, breaking a spell requires another spell that either directly counters it or is stronger and can overload it."

"And we're going with which option?"

"The second."  Finding a grip on all his clothes with one hand and pinching some of the fabric between his knees, Irik freed his other arm to perform the required hand motions.  Fingers tracking through various twists as his hand waved across and then up and down, the wizard timed the release just as the magical seam passed once more.

A ball of fire roared forth, consuming the darkness with heat and striking the mark dead on.

The clashing of spells resulted in an explosion of magical sparks as the trap containing them tore open, spilling the wizard and elf back on to the floor of the stone-walled antechamber they'd been in previous to becoming ensnared.  Neither one landed particularly gracefully, although Devard certainly made his landing look more elegant than it was.

Standing and dusting himself off, the thief didn't move to assist the old man struggling to rise after his hard landing.  With a smile he said, "I knew you could do it!"

"Oh, did you now?"

"I've got faith in you.  Fear not!"  Without missing a beat, Devard was once more back over at the jeweled scarab still encased in the wall, dagger out, looking once more for a pry point to wedge the tip under.

"Don't even think about it!" Irik said. "Honestly, the fact that you find that more valuable than all these ancient runes carved in the walls astounds me."

"Oh, come on, the trap's been sprung already.  How can we pass this up?"

"Simple.  We just walk away."  Irik recovered the staff he'd dropped upon being sucked into the vortex.  The magical flame hovering atop it still burned and illuminated the room.  "Damn thing is more trouble than it's worth.  Besides, that's not what the Dragon sent us here to get."

The butt of his staff ticking on the stones, Iirik proceeded to head for the passage opposite where they had entered.

The light fading on the scarab as the wizard's distance grew, Devard sighed and gave the prize a tender pat.  "I'll be back for you later."  And then he followed Irik out.