Dargonesti

Chapter 15

As the days went by, the thirty or so slaves who’d survived the flooding of Nissia Grotto began to drift out of the House of Arms. Singly and in pairs, as boredom overcame their fear of the Dargonesti, they wandered out of the citadel and into the city.

What Gundabyr found strange was that he never saw any of them on his jaunts through the streets, and none of the former slaves ever returned to the House of Arms. Six days after the battle, only a handful of men remained in the headquarters of the Urionan army. These were drylanders too sick or too injured to be up and about.

Three days earlier Armantaro had stormed off to locate Vixa, and he’d not returned either. A messenger had come from the palace bringing word to Gundabyr that the colonel was remaining there, to be with his princess and because his cough needed treatment. Still, the dwarf felt a bit like the kender cavalry commander in the famous story. “Charge the foe!” cried the kender commander, and five hundred kender on ponies charged-back the way they’d come. The commander, oblivious to this fact, rode on to meet the enemy alone.

Gundabyr resolved to seek out Armantaro and Vixa. Anything had to be better than sitting on his rump in this citadel day after day with nothing to do and no one to do it with. He needed something to occupy his mind, other than sad thoughts of Garnath.

There was no disguising his squat dwarven frame in a city of seven-foot-tall people, so he didn’t try. The majority of the sea elves had finally moved on to other diversions, and the crowds that followed him now consisted mainly of children. Ten or twelve young sea elves, some of them as tall as adult Qualinesti, tried to tag along behind him as he mounted the central ramp. Their attentions were innocent, but Gundabyr had grown tired of being stared at. He whirled around and shouted, “Go home!” The startled children fled. Gundabyr stumped onward.

When he reached the top of the ramp, he was surprised to discover the magic barrier that usually concealed its entrance was no more. Beyond the ramp, he could see the green of the palace glimmering. There were no guards in sight. He entered the palace plaza and received another surprise.

The great courtyard was clogged with equipment: stands of spears by the thousands, sacks of provisions, armor, helmets, and most astonishing of all, enormous piles of cylindrical clay pots, just like the ones he’d designed to hold the gnomefire for the firelances. The Dargonesti were obviously stockpiling fresh supplies, but why? The chilkit menace was gone.

He could hear Dargonesti moving about in other parts of the plaza, but the heaps of goods screened his view. The dwarf made his way along an aisle that snaked through the military equipment. He soon came to a clearing in which stood a table. Kelp paper was strewn on the tabletop. He scanned the first document that came to hand. It was a map. Gundabyr couldn’t read the angular Dargonesti printing, but by the shape of the river delta and coastline, he guessed this was a chart of southern Silvanesti.

“You there! Drylander! Do not move!”

Gundabyr hadn’t been addressed in that tone for quite some time. A quartet of Dargonesti soldiers approached rapidly. Their leader snatched the map from the dwarf’s hand and shoved him backward.

“Remove this drylander from the royal residence,” said the officer in a nasty tone.

When the three Dargonesti soldiers advanced, Gundabyr clenched a fist the size of a nail keg and punched the Dargonesti officer in the stomach. The lightly built sea elf went over backward, air whooshing out of his mouth. He collided with his squad. All four went down like ninepins.

The sprawling Dargonesti made a most diverting sight, but the sound of marching feet told Gundabyr that reinforcements were coming. This was no place for a lone forgemaster! He grabbed the map of the Silvanesti coast, shoved it under his vest, then ran. The fact that they hadn’t wanted him to see the map told him it must be important.

The masses of arms and supplies had turned the formerly open plaza into a maze. Gundabyr went down one winding aisle after another, but he kept running into Dargonesti. He decided to make his own path. Kicking over a stand of spears, he bulled through the rows of equipment. Shouts echoed through the plaza. Someone cast a spear at him. It missed, clattering harmlessly against the hard floor. Gundabyr put his head down and stormed through a wall of shields. His stumpy legs got caught, and he tripped. The shields toppled over, covering him.

He lay still. The Dargonesti were searching nearby. When he heard their footfalls recede, he crawled slowly out from under the shields. He got about five yards before the way was blocked by a large bundle lying on the floor. The dwarf shoved, but the bundle was heavy. As he pushed against it, his hands felt its contents. It felt almost like-

Casting quick glances left and right, Gundabyr worked at the lacing on the brown seaweed covering. Sure enough, a knobby human hand poked out of the hole he made. Why was a dead human lying in the palace plaza?

He realized there were a number of bundles here, pretty much identical. Cold anger seized his heart. No wonder the slaves had never returned to the House of Arms. Coryphene had had them murdered!

A heavy stone had been placed in each makeshift shroud. The dwarf raged silently against Coryphene. After the drylanders had been instrumental in the defeat of the chilkit, the Protector couldn’t simply execute the prisoners. That might disrupt the victory atmosphere. No, he had let the slaves think they were going to be freed, then secretly had them killed! Reorx take his eyes, he had given his word!

One bundle was noticeably longer than the rest. Swallowing hard, Gundabyr inched toward its head and pulled the seaweed cloth apart.

Armantaro.

Now he was truly afraid. He hadn’t seen Princess Vixa in days. Perhaps she was dead as well. Aside from the few sick and injured humans in the House of Arms, Gundabyr might be the only drylander left in Urione.

“Things don’t look good for our young dwarf,” he murmured.

Reverently, he covered Armantaro’s face. The Qualinesti colonel had been a good fellow, a brave fighter, and a wise elf. Gundabyr said a little prayer to Reorx, asking him to put in a good word with Astra, highest god of the Qualinesti. When he was done, he said a second prayer for himself. He would need plenty of divine aid if he was going to get out of this predicament alive.

He crawled on, using his powerful arms to drag himself forward. He reached the line of columns that encircled the plaza. The clutter of goods did not extend into the colonnade, so Gundabyr stood. He could hear the clash and clatter as the soldiers combed the stockpile behind him. Now was the time to make his move.

Skulking along the shadowed wall, Gundabyr went as quietly as his bulky physique allowed. There were numerous doorways to cross, and he never knew, when he dashed from one side to the other, if someone in the passage would see him and raise the alarm. After six such heart-pounding crossings, he paused, flattening himself against the palace wall. There were voices ahead.

Coryphene and two soldiers had emerged from a corridor and were standing under the portico. “Join the search,” Coryphene told the soldiers. “Find the dwarf, immediately.”

“And the other prisoner?” asked one of the Quoowahb.

The Protector glanced back the way they’d come. “She is secure. Go.”

She! That could only be Vixa Ambrodel. She must still be alive! Gundabyr waited until Coryphene walked away before slipping into the corridor. There were several arched openings off this passage, and Gundabyr, with bated breath, crossed them all.

At the rear of the corridor he found a door whose surface was marred by a simple locking mechanism. The bolt had not been thrown home, but it was the first lock the dwarf had seen in Urione, and it made him curious. He put his ear against the cold granite. No sound came from within. He would have to chance it. He eased open the door.

Vixa was sitting in a heavy chair, her back to the door. She wore a green Dargonesti robe, but her short golden hair was unmistakable. Gundabyr slipped into the room.

“Release me, Coryphene!” Vixa cried, hearing the door close. “Is this how you repay those who help you?”

“Shh, lady, it’s me. Gundabyr Ironbender.”

“Gundabyr! Get me out of this!”

He came around the front of the chair and saw a bizarre sight. Vixa was not shackled or bound in any way. She was sitting bolt upright in the chair, facing the wall. Poised in midair, its barbed tip a hairbreadth from her chest, was a Dargonesti spear. Midway down the horizontal shaft, a gold ring glittered.

“What’s this?”

“Coryphene’s little joke, long since grown stale! He used that ring of his to set up this spell. If I move, the spear will impale me.”

“What if I remove the spear?”

“No! Don’t touch it! The only thing you can do is take off the ring. Slide it down the shaft to the butt, but don’t let it touch the spear. Once the ring’s off, the spell will be broken.”

Gundabyr grimaced. “Move the ring without letting it touch the spear? That’s a tall order, Princess. No wonder Coryphene felt no need to lock the door.”

“You can do it, Gundabyr. Your hands are skillful, and your nerve is like the iron you forge.”

“It’s not my skill or nerve I’m worried about. It’s these thick fingers of mine.”

“Do it, Gundabyr! You must! I’ve got us a way out of here, a way to get home!”

The dwarf nodded, rubbing his hands along the tops of his trousers. He held out his right hand, flexing his stubby fingers as they neared the floating ring. An inch away, he stopped, pulling his hand back.

“I can’t, lady! I’m too clumsy, I tell you! You’ll die if I try it.”

“We’ll both die if you don’t.”

Gundabyr sat back on his haunches to think. There had to be a way to move the ring without letting it touch the spear shaft. If only he had a feather, he could slip it between the floating ring and the spear. But he had no feather, no tools, nothing. He sighed.

His gust of breath made the floating ring quiver. Was that it?

He explained his idea to Vixa. Sweating profusely, the princess agreed he should try it. Gundabyr moved around behind her. Leaning forward over her shoulder, he blew against the ring. It quivered, but didn’t move. He blew harder. Coryphene’s ring skittered two inches toward the spear butt.

“Hurrah!” Vixa rejoiced. “You can do it!”

“It’s going to take a lot of wind.”

During Gundabyr’s many pauses for breath, Vixa told him about her explorations as a dolphin, the chilkit tunnel she’d found, and the discovery she’d made there. By which time, Gundabyr had moved the ring only half the distance necessary.

“So he’s alive.” The dwarf panted with exertion, his cheeks red. “Glad to hear it. Anything that thwarts Coryphene makes me happy.”

A few more minutes of huffing and puffing and the ring was only scant inches from the end of the spear shaft. Gundabyr took a short break and outlined what had been happening in the city since the battle. When he got to the part about finding their fellow prisoners dead and prepared for disposal at sea, Vixa blanched.

“And Armantaro?” she whispered. The dwarf nodded curtly, his eyes fixed on the ring. He started blowing again, faster and harder, looking down to avoid the tears glistening in Vixa’s eyes. “He was ill. Did he die of his cough or was it murder?”

“The others weren’t sick, lady, and they’re dead.”

“Coryphene gave his word! He promised he would free us!”

“He obviously changed his mind.”

Hatred welled up inside Vixa. Armantaro was dead. Like Harmanutis, Vanthanoris, Captain Esquelamar, and for all she knew, everyone she’d left on Evenstar. All gone. Murdered by Coryphene and his insane queen.

“Hold still, lady!” Gundabyr hissed. Vixa forced herself to relax, pushing away her grief. It would serve no purpose now. Almost inaudibly, she said, “I will kill them both.”

The icy coldness of her tone made Gundabyr stare at her. Her face, considered “humanlike” back in Qualinost because of her quarter-human ancestry, had worn thin under the hardships she’d endured. Poor food and privation had sharpened her features and bled most of the color from her skin. The dwarf could see the rage burning in her eyes.

“Princess, I’m about done,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“I am.”

He filled his cheeks, blew smartly. The ring flew off, ricocheting against the wall. No sooner had it left the shaft than the spear dropped harmlessly to the floor. Vixa was up in an instant, the weapon in her hands.

“Thank you, my friend! Let’s go.”

He restrained her with one hand. “Escape, Princess, yes? Revenge can’t be enjoyed when you’re dead.”

Before she could reply, they heard voices outside. Vixa sat back in the chair. Gundabyr scurried to the far corner and hid behind a stone column.

Coryphene entered, leaving a pair of guards in the corridor. “Hello, Princess,” he called out. “Still here, I see.” From his position he couldn’t tell that Vixa, rather than his spell, was holding the spear in place.

“When are you going to keep your word and release me?”

There was the slightest of pauses. “Soon,” he replied evenly. “Right now my warriors are looking for the dwarf Gundabyr. I thought he might have found his way in here.”

“No such fortune. Is Armantaro nearby? I’d like to speak to him.”

“That’s impossible. Her Divine Majesty has forbidden it.”

Vixa resisted a powerful urge to hurl the spear at him. She must remember that Gundabyr, too, would be endangered if the guards were to rush in.

“Where’s your honor, Coryphene? Don’t the Quoowahb believe in keeping their word?”

“You would be well advised not to provoke me. You’re alive now only-” He stopped abruptly.

“Yes? Go on, Coryphene. What truth were you about to let slip?”

He made a fist. “You’re alive because I have defied my divine queen! She has ordered your death, Vixa Ambrodel, but I have secreted you here instead!”

“How kind of you, but why?”

“Because the Protector of Urione does possess honor.”

Vixa’s arm, holding the spear by its head, was beginning to ache. “So, what’s to become of me?”

“After we take Silvanost and Uriona is crowned queen of all the elven nations, I will set you free. Perhaps you would make a good viceroy, to rule in Qualinost in Her Divine Majesty’s name.”

Astonishment momentarily left the princess bereft of speech. Coryphene must be as crazy as his queen, if he thought she would become the tool of a conqueror. How little he knew her!

“I believe that, in time, you will come to accept Her Divinity’s power,” the Protector went on. “My queen will reward me in the future for not killing you now.”

Vixa heard Coryphene’s footfalls as he moved from the doorway, coming farther into the room. If he drew too near, he would see his spell had been thwarted. Sweat trickled down her forehead.

“My lord!” A soldier had appeared in the doorway. “The watch reports a disturbance at the House of Arms.”

“What kind of disturbance?”

“A dispute-a riot between the surviving drylanders and the sea brothers.”

Smothering an oath, Coryphene hurried from the room. Gundabyr emerged from his hiding place, and Vixa, with a relieved gasp, let the spear drop.

“Damn him!” she fumed, rubbing her aching wrist. “Did you hear that? I would make a good viceroy to rule in Qualinost, he said. What kind of weak-minded simpleton does he take me for?”

“Lady, we must go,” insisted the dwarf.

Once outside under the colonnade, Vixa whispered, “We must hurry to the temple of Zura. Naxos needs water from the fountain there to heal his wound.”

They had to take the central ramp, at least part of the way. Vixa dropped down on her stomach and started crawling into the plaza. The war supplies hid them both from the remaining guards until they reached the entrance to the spiral ramp. Gundabyr rolled into the opening. Vixa ducked after him. The ramp was clear.

Noises drifted up to them from the lower levels. Creeping down the ramp, Vixa and Gundabyr speculated on what might be happening below.

“A riot? That doesn’t make sense,” Gundabyr mused. “The only drylanders left in the House of Arms are too sick and weak even to walk, much less riot.”

“Well, in any event, the timing was perfect.” Perhaps a little too perfect, Vixa added silently.

The thick scent of incense told them they were nearing the temple level. Farther on, and they could see robed priests and priestesses coming and going. It seemed impossible for Vixa and the dwarf to slip by unseen. Gundabyr, a practical soul, reached out from their hidden vantage point and grabbed an unsuspecting Dargonesti acolyte. A good solid blow to the back of his head, and the acolyte was in dreamland. Now they had a robe to wear.

“You’re too short to pass for a Dargonesti,” Vixa reminded him.

“Well, so are you, lady.”

Vixa chewed her lip for a moment, then a smile broke out on her face. She leaned over and whispered in Gundabyr’s ear. Soon he was grinning, too.

Moments later, a tall acolyte draped in a hooded gray robe joined the lines of worshipers in the courtyard outside Urione’s temple complex. The new acolyte surreptitiously studied the inscriptions at the entrance to the various sanctuaries.

“Can you read them?” said a low, strained voice from the vicinity of the acolyte’s waist.

“Shh, legs can’t talk. I’ll let you know.”

Sitting astride Gundabyr’s shoulders, Vixa tapped him with her left heel to steer him down a narrow lane. The usual Dargonesti script eluded Vixa’s understanding, but here in the temple precinct the priests still used Old Elvish, just as was written in Silvanost more than a millennium ago. It was awkward and archaic, but Vixa, always an avid reader, had at least a general comprehension. She puzzled her way past structures sacred to gods named El-ai, the Fisher, and Ke-en. She decided these were the Dargonesti equivalents of E’li, the Blue Phoenix, and Quen. Then they entered a smaller, circular courtyard, faced by three lesser temples. The names on these were Matheri, Estarin, and Zura.

“What’s the matter?” hissed Gundabyr in response to her soft exclamation.

“These Dargonesti are strange elves,” she replied. “I just figured out that these three temples are sacred to Mantis of the Rose, Astra, and Zeboim.” This last name amazed the dwarf. In Thorbardin this goddess was called Bhezomiax, but there were no shrines dedicated to her. What use had a mountain race for a sea goddess? Daughter of Takhisis, the queen of evil, Zeboim was known to be impetuous, temperamental, and very, very dangerous.

“You mean they worship evil gods alongside the good?” Gundabyr asked.

“So it seems. Now I understand Naxos’s nervousness about using the water of Zura.”

Gundabyr smothered a groan. “Lady, you’re no lightweight, you know. Do we go on?”

Vixa nodded curtly. “We have to. I don’t know what else to do.”

They walked up to the entrance of the temple of Zura. The building was a truncated pyramid made of alternating bands of jade and blood coral. Striking but gaudy, was Vixa’s opinion. Monstrous carvings decorated the outer walls, depicting all the destructive forces of the sea: waterspouts, tidal waves, and the like.

A pair of priests came into view. Each wore on a thong around his neck a jade medallion decorated with Zeboim’s-or rather Zura’s-sign, a sea turtle. Vixa flinched when they drew near enough for her to see their faces. Unlike the usual blue tone of the Dargonesti elves, the priests of Zura had deathly gray complexions. Their eyes were strangely dull and colorless-much like the flat, gray shade of the ocean on a cloudy day. They walked with small, shuffling steps, their arms hanging straight and unmoving by their sides. No notice was taken of the tall, unknown acolyte who fell in behind them.

The temple’s interior was damp and fetid. Smears of phosphorescent slime on the walls provided what little light there was. Ahead, the two priests ducked their heads periodically. At first Vixa thought they were observing some sort of ritual, then she felt a cold, fleeting contact on her forehead. Looking up, she noticed faint tendrils of smoke floating in the air, writhing like the tentacles of some phantom octopus. Vixa felt no pain at the contact, but a horrid smell of decay permeated her nostrils.

The priests disappeared down a side passage. Vixa and Gundabyr forged ahead. She watched for other tendrils and dodged them when they appeared. At last they reached the center of the pyramid. The main chamber mimicked the form of the outer structure, being a flat-topped pyramid itself. In the center, instead of an altar, there was a fountain. Water dribbled from the mouth of a statue of Zura, which was carved from a massive block of white onyx. Depicted in Quoowahb form, Zura wore an expression of pure malevolence. Her eyes were set with blue-green jade.

“I need a jar,” Vixa said. “Turn around, Gundabyr.” The dwarf swung her in a full circle. “Whoa! Not so fast! Again, more slowly.”

Deep niches were cut into the walls. Piled in the hollows were white clay amphorae. Vixa pulled one out. It was empty. Smaller than a Qualinesti wine jug, it would hold perhaps a quart of liquid. She hoped that was sufficient for Naxos’s purpose. A fitted stone stopper was set in the mouth with the same kind of sticky kelp paste they’d used to seal the gnomefire pots. It had a long, braided seaweed loop for a handle.

Gundabyr took her back to the fountain. Since no one was around, he hiked up the hem of the long robe and took a breath of air, as well as a look around. When he saw the statue, his mouth dropped in amazement. “I hope we don’t meet her while we’re here,” he said, aghast at the dreadful image.

“Shh! Bend over so I can fill the jug.”

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the rim of the pool. As Vixa held the amphora in the water, Gundabyr was able to see what was lying in the bottom of the pool. Skulls. A great many of them.

“Uh, Princess, I’m not sure this is a good idea. Look down here.”

Vixa glanced down, almost dropping the jug. “By Astra! Where did those come from?”

“Sacrifices, maybe? Or all that’s left of people who drank the water?”

She shuddered. “We’ve got to trust Naxos,” she said, finishing her task. “He said to bring him the water, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

She plugged the amphora, smeared the brown jelly around the stopper, then handed the jug to Gundabyr. He put its braided loop over his neck, and they rearranged the robe over him and his burden.

They garnered a few sidelong glances as they crossed the square and left the temple precinct, but no one challenged them. By the ramp, they discarded the robe, and Vixa recovered her hidden spear. Gundabyr and Vixa descended a few levels, then got off at a residential floor evidently reserved for Urione’s more affluent citizens. The houses were larger and fewer, and the level had the advantage of being nearly empty just now.

“There are side stairs and ramps all over,” Vixa said, rushing ahead. “As long as we keep going down, we’ll find our way to the sea.”

Puffing a little, the slender amphora cradled in his arms, the dwarf commented, “Not to be argumentative, but the sea’s everywhere outside, ain’t it?”

Vixa pulled up short, her face reddening. “You’re right. I would’ve dragged us through the whole city, just so we could leave the same way we came in!”

“We have another problem, lady.”

“What?”

“I know you shapeshifted dolphins can hold your breath from here to midnight. Me, I’m running out of wind on these stairways.”

She clapped a hand to her head. “We need an airshell!”

“Yup.”

Dejected, the pair crouched in an alley between two fine houses. Through open windows occupants of the buildings could be seen moving about. Faint music came from inside.

“Let’s consider this logically,” Vixa whispered. “All an airshell is, is a container for air. We never knew how much air any one of them would have. Right?”

“Right. So?”

“A container for air,” she repeated, her eyes distant with thought. “Gundabyr,” she said abruptly, “how many breaths do you take in a minute?”

“Hammer me if I know.”

She urged him to find out. Breathing normally, the dwarf counted his exhalations while Vixa counted off the seconds in a minute.

“Stop,” Vixa ordered.

Gundabyr reported he’d taken thirty-one breaths. “How does that help?” he asked.

“It will take me fourteen-no, better say fifteen-fifteen minutes to get from the city to Naxos’s cave, swimming flat out. All we need is enough air to last you-” With one finger, she scribbled on the dusty floor. “Four hundred sixty-five breaths!”

Vixa stood and tiptoed to the back of the dead-end alley. She explained that what she was looking for was a barrel or sack that could hold enough air to last him until they reached the cave where Naxos was hidden. Gundabyr could take sips of air from the barrel or sack, just as they had taken air from the airshells. The dwarf rolled his eyes.

The rear of the alley was piled with Dargonesti household rubbish. Some sacks were woven seaweed, useless as it was not airtight. Others turned out to be made of catfish skin. Not bad. Vixa pawed through several such sacks until she found one of the size she wanted. She emptied it of rubbish.

“It’ll do,” she pronounced. Gundabyr looked more than a little doubtful.

They stole back into the street. A few residents were out at the other end of the lane but didn’t notice the two drylanders skulking about. At the end of the street, they came to the pink granite wall that was the city’s outer shell, unbroken by the arched openings found on the upper floors.

Vixa snarled at the bad luck. Time was running out. She’d been worrying constantly about Naxos ever since Coryphene’s soldiers had captured her. What if he was already dead in that cold, wet cave?

“Over here, Princess!”

Just a few yards away, Gundabyr had found a staircase leading down to the next level. He descended; Vixa hurried after him. She could see the flicker of light reflecting off water at the bottom of the stairway.

When she reached bottom, a glad sight greeted her eyes. There were pools in the floor of this level every dozen feet or so. Vixa sat on the edge of one. Before she entered, she said, “You won’t understand me when I’m a dolphin, but I will understand you. Once I change, fill up the bag with air and get on my back.”

She slipped into the water, picturing her dolphin form. The black-and-white shape was becoming as familiar as her elven one. She no longer felt afraid as her body stiffened. The immobility would pass quickly. She sank beneath the surface. In seconds, she was two-legged no more, but when her dolphin head broke the surface she saw that the situation had changed dramatically. A squad of Dargonesti warriors was coming on the run toward the pool. They had their spears leveled.

Since escaping the grotto, Gundabyr had been quite happy to stay dry, having no fondness for the water. Now, however, he didn’t hesitate, but leapt into the pool. In a heartbeat, he was seated on Vixa’s muscular back, clinging tightly with his knees. He whirled the sack about his head, filling it with air.

“Go, go!” he shouted, thumping his heels against her flanks. She shook her head side to side, gesturing with her beak toward the amphora still sitting by the pool.

“Reorx save me,” groaned the dwarf. He snagged the braided handle of the jug, slipping it over his neck. The Dargonesti were only twenty paces away. Clutching his inflated sack in one hand, Gundabyr grabbed her dorsal fin with the other.

“Now, go!” he cried. Vixa submerged, taking him with her.

Behind her, the princess could hear loud splashes as the Dargonesti dove into the pool. Her course was erratic, as the unfamiliar weight of the dwarf on her back made it difficult for her to swim straight.

They swam through an archway into the open sea. Vixa heard numerous cries as the Dargonesti shouted for her to stop and called for sea brothers to intercept her. She headed toward the ruined wall across the Mortas Trench and thanked all the gods that the spears would not travel far underwater.

Gray dolphins flashed by her. Sea brothers! Vixa stubbornly stuck to her course. The big shapeshifted dolphins zoomed before and behind her. What were they playing at? she wondered. With their speed and power, they could ram her into submission easily. But they didn’t.

“What are you doing?” she demanded in the high-pitched water-tongue.

“No need to shout,” said a friendly voice close by. Vixa cocked an eye astern and saw Kios keeping pace with her.

“Are you chasing me or not?”

Kios surged ahead of her. “If we wanted to catch you, Sister, we would.”

“Then what’s your game?”

“This is a show, for Coryphene’s troopers. We’ll tell them you evaded us. For now, take me to Naxos.”

Her only response was to swim harder. Vixa didn’t trust Kios, but what could she do? With Gundabyr on her back, she knew she had no chance to outrun or outmaneuver the sea brothers.

Six dolphins blasted through the breach in the wall made by the chilkit-Vixa, Kios, and four more sea brothers. Vixa headed directly for the tunnel leading to Naxos’s hiding place, all the while praying she wasn’t bringing him his death.

As soon as Gundabyr’s head burst into the air, he gave a glad cry. Vixa carried him to the pool’s edge, by Naxos’s hiding place. The dwarf clambered out of the water. Vixa reverted to elven form and joined him. Kios also resumed his two-legged shape, though the other shapeshifters remained as they were.

Naxos appeared to be unconscious. Most of the color had drained from his skin, and he wasn’t moving. Vixa knelt by him.

“What’s in that jug?” asked Kios as Vixa unplugged the amphora.

“The water of Zura,” she said bluntly. “He said it would cure him.”

“Oh, it will cure his wound. But he will become undead, like the Shades of Zura.”

Appalled, Vixa shoved the plug back in the amphora. She remembered the bloodless, empty faces of the priests she’d seen in Zura’s temple. Naxos would become like them!

“What can we do?” she moaned.

Naxos stirred. “Vixa,” he murmured, “and the Firebringer. Who’s that with you?”

“It is I, Kios.”

“Come to finish me off, Brother?”

“I could. Coryphene would shower me with riches if I brought him your head.”

“Traitor.” The voice was weak, but the anger very apparent.

“Ah, the things you say. Where is your famous wit, Naxos? I thought you would trade quips with Death himself when the time came.”

“I’m too tired to trade anything. Kill me, or give me the water of Zura. I am weary of pain and cold.”

Kios took the amphora from Vixa. Without hesitation, he dashed the jug against the stone wall. Into the stunned silence, he said, “It wouldn’t do for the chief of the sea brothers to become undead.”

“Chief?” Naxos whispered. “Am I still?”

“You’ve never been anything else.” Kios went to the edge of the pool and gave orders to the remaining shapeshifters. The four dolphins submerged. When he returned, Kios brought back seawater in his cupped hands. He trickled this over Naxos’s drying gills. Vixa and Gundabyr rushed to follow his example.

“Look here, my brother,” Kios said, as the other two continued to minister to Naxos, “you confronted Coryphene in the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by thousands of his loyal soldiers. By the Fisher, Naxos, he’d just led them to victory over the chilkit! I had to profess loyalty to him on the spot. You should have done the same.”

“Coryphene has no confidence in my sincerity,” Naxos murmured.

“But he does in mine. If I had defied him, it would have meant civil war, then and there. The time was not right for us to resist, but it soon will be. Coryphene and the queen are leaving the city.”

“Leaving?” Naxos was stunned. “To go where?”

“They are marching on Silvanost,” Vixa supplied. “Uriona says she’s received a prophecy that if she is crowned in the Tower of the Stars, she will rule all the elven nations.”

“Hail, goddess Uriona,” mocked Naxos.

Kios shook his head. “Don’t be so certain of her madness. I have seen the preparations. They will take ten thousand warriors to the dry land and attack the city of our ancestors. Uriona has persuaded four thousand of the Shoal Dwellers to join the attack as well.”

Naxos snorted. “Dimernesti nomads can’t be trusted.”

“No, but they have been promised booty.”

“What sort of troops does Coryphene have?” asked Vixa.

“Six thousand spearcarriers, two thousand netcasters, a thousand firelancers, and a thousand picked troops armed with drylander swords. Those include Coryphene’s personal guard.”

“All infantry,” she mused. “Have they no cavalry?”

“In the old country, the Waveriders fought mounted on hippocampi, but none of them followed Uriona into exile. The army is all afoot. Except for the sea brothers.” Kios grinned. Weak as he was, Naxos returned the wicked smile.

“What do you find so amusing?” Vixa asked suspiciously.

“Coryphene relies on us to be his scouts,” Naxos said.

“And once he’s on the march, he’ll find that all the sea brothers have vanished,” concluded Kios. He rubbed his pale blue palms together. “We’ll double back and seize the city!”

“No,” said Naxos, shaking his head. “You can’t hope to hold the city against Coryphene’s army. Better to disperse, live wild in the sea.”

Gundabyr, who’d remained in the background during this discussion, finally spoke up. “Hey, what about us? How are we supposed to get home?”

“I sent my brothers for bandages and healing ointments for Naxos,” Kios told him. “They will bring an airshell for you, little fellow. Our sister can carry you to land.”

They helped Naxos to stand, Vixa supporting him on one side, Kios the other. The wounded shapeshifter felt heavy as oak to the Qualinesti princess. They got him upright, leaning on a boulder by the pool’s edge.

One of the sea brothers returned, carrying a whelk shell in a bag clutched in his mouth. Kios took Gundabyr aside to adjust the fit of the airshell’s mouthpiece. Vixa had a moment alone with Naxos.

“Will you be all right?” she asked softly.

“With my brothers’ help, I think so. You’ve saved more than my life, Vixa. You’ve saved the sea brothers from servitude to Coryphene and Uriona.” That said, he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek, barely brushing her face with his lips.

Surprised, Vixa raised a hand to her cheek. Color invaded her face. “I–I only wish Armantaro and the others could have lived to escape with me,” she stammered.

“As do I, Princess.”

At that moment, the pool erupted as four sea brothers arrived-three sent by Kios to fetch medicines, and the healer they’d brought with them. The four changed to Dargonesti form and came to help Naxos.

“This airshell should last you two full days underwater,” Kios was saying to Gundabyr. “To be safe, our sister should carry you on the surface as much as possible.”

“My thanks, Master Kios,” Gundabyr said.

“For the Firebringer, it is nothing.”

It was time for them to go. Vixa slipped into the water. Before she transformed, Naxos called out to her.

“I shall see you again, Lady Dryfoot!” His golden eyes stared into her brown ones.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to return. My life is on land.”

Naxos smiled knowingly. It was not his usual arrogant grin, but more personal. “I shall see you again, Vixa Ambrodel.”

Vixa assumed dolphin form. With the airshell firmly clamped between his teeth, Gundabyr mounted her back and tapped her flanks to signal he was ready.

Naxos waved as the dolphin and the dwarf submerged.