Dargonesti

Chapter 4

Vixa was very surprised to open her eyes and find herself alive.

Her head pounded as if all the smiths of Thorbardin were busy inside, and with a groan, she sat up. Captain Esquelamar and the warriors remained unconscious, scattered around the shrunken cavern. The walls still glowed a dull red. Vixa massaged her aching temples.

Armantaro stirred. He sat up slowly, clutching his head. A smear of blood stained his upper lip.

“Ahhh,” he moaned. “My head feels as if I drank a barrel of nectar.” He winced, and added, “Very bad nectar.”

“Your nose bleeds, Colonel.”

He dabbed at it, and they spoke in whispers because the throbbing in their heads wouldn’t allow anything louder. This strained quiet was suddenly shattered by a skull-piercing roar. Captain Esquelamar had fought his way to consciousness with a great bellow.

“For mercy’s sake, Captain!” Vixa hissed. “Be quiet!”

“Astra have mercy, I’m dying!” he roared, heedless of her entreaties. He thumped his head with the heel of one hand. The captain cried, “I’d give my right arm for a beaker of nectar!”

Armantaro muttered, “I’d give mine if you’d lower your voice.”

Esquelamar stood, reeled about, and blundered against the glowing wall. Vixa expected him to cry out, but he did not.

Armantaro asked softly, “Captain! Are you not burned?”

“Burned?” The captain lifted one eyelid and took in his surroundings. Frowning, he stepped back from the wall and said, “Nay, nay. ’Tis no warmer than a maiden’s cheek.”

Vixa regained her feet slowly, waited a moment while her knees trembled, then walked carefully to the wall. She placed one hand against it. Esquelamar was right. It was only mildly warm, but yielded to her touch, like living flesh.

Harmanutis and Vanthanoris awoke at nearly the same instant. The corporal croaked for water, but they had none to give him. The small store of food and water they’d brought with them had been swept away in the tumult of the earthquake.

To take her mind off her own thirst, Vixa studied their prison. She dropped to one knee and scraped away debris. Soon, she had exposed more of the odd ridges they’d seen deeper in the cave. Between the ridges was the softer material Vanthanoris had described. Like the walls, it was spongy and gave easily to her touch. Suddenly, the myriad thoughts chasing around her aching head coalesced into a single idea-an idea so startling, she gasped aloud.

“Your Highness?” Vanthanoris had come to see what she scrutinized so carefully on the floor. He dropped to one knee beside her.

“This is not a cave!” Vixa exclaimed.

Vanthanoris and the others regarded her blankly. “What, lady?” whispered Armantaro.

“This is not a cave,” she repeated slowly and carefully. “I believe-I believe we are inside a living creature!”

All their faces registered puzzlement. The colonel frowned, trying to marshal his scattered wits. “What?” he demanded in a low voice.

Vixa looked at each of them in turn. “This island is no island,” she stated, forcing her voice to remain calm. “It is some sort of creature.”

“Your Highness has injured her head,” Harmanutis blurted.

“Mind your tongue, Corporal,” Armantaro said absently. “Lady Vixa, how do you know this?”

“Captain,” she replied, “the other night, when we saw the fish fleeing on the surface-had you ever seen such behavior before, in all your years at sea?”

“No, lady. Never.”

“And the soundings that changed, deep then shallow then deep again-ever experienced that before?”

“No.”

“The sea was stained with mud for miles, right in our path, yes? And Evenstar fetched up on a shoal no one had ever charted.” They still regarded her with skepticism. “Don’t you see? This creature rose from the bottom of the sea. It frightened the fish, and they fled before it. It swam under the ship, and that’s why the bosun got different soundings. When at last it arrived at the surface, we ran into it, thinking it was an island!”

During her recital, doubt had crept into the faces of the other elves. When she finished, worry appeared, as the logic of her words sank in.

“How can it be?” asked Vanthanoris, standing by Vixa. “The monster would be more than a mile wide. How can the gods permit such a creature to exist?”

Armantaro shook his head, dazed. “The gods do as they see fit.”

“This cave,” Vixa continued, “must be inside the creature. The walls are made of flesh. That’s why they’re so soft and warm.”

Vanthanoris’s head snapped around, and he stared at her in horror. “I roused it,” he whispered. “When I dug into the floor with my dagger, I roused it from its slumber!”

Silence reigned for long minutes as each of them digested the implications. They contemplated their surroundings, trying to recognize this place as the inside of a living beast and not a natural rock formation. A cave that was no cave.

“What shall we do?” Harmanutis asked at last. “Will we ever see dry land and sunshine again?”

Vixa straightened her shoulders staunchly. “There must be hope. We don’t seem to have been devoured. In fact, judging from the wind that tore through here just before the beast went under, I’d say we’re in the creature’s nose or spout-hole. The principle danger, as I see it, may occur when the beast next draws breath.”

“We could get out then,” Vanthanoris said, hope dawning in his hazel eyes.

“If it breathes only air, yes. But if it breathes water-” Vixa’s voice trailed off.

Captain Esquelamar ran his hands through his long, sand-colored hair. “I forced the guards to stay on duty,” he said softly. “I left them out there. When this monster submerged, they must have-” Armantaro put a hand on his arm. However, there was no comfort to give. When the sea creature had submerged, certainly the elves left outside on guard must have drowned.

“But the ship is probably all right, Captain,” offered Vixa, as much for her own comfort as for his. After all, she’d left her own soldiers aboard the vessel.

Esquelamar forced a smile, saying, “Aye, lady, she’s a good ship. The best I ever served on.” The smile vanished. He swallowed hard.

“There’s a legend I heard once,” he murmured, “a long time ago, when I was a lad not yet gone to sea. It told of a creature called a kraken, a beast so huge it could drag down a ship entwined in its tentacles. Now and then a ship would be lost in fair weather, or on an easy run to Hylo or Balifor, and the old salts would say, ‘They’re food for the kraken now.’ ”

This vignette did little to lift their spirits. Armantaro finally stood and declared, “We’ll never get out by sitting here. We should explore farther down the passage. Perhaps there is another way out.”

“Don’t forget, the ones who attacked the captain and killed Theleran must be in here with us,” Vanthanoris reminded them.

“If we meet them, we must offer a truce,” Vixa decided. “It would be folly to fight each other in a situation like this.”

The younger warriors drew swords and made for the slippery slope. The others trailed, picking footholds with care. The air grew moister and warmer as they descended the passage. Out front, Harmanutis murmured, “I don’t fancy this.” His and Vanthanoris’s faces seemed bloodied by the lambent red glow from the walls. “I feel like a worm in a bird’s gullet.”

Vixa followed close on their heels. She found herself growing curious about the kraken-for a kraken it must be-in spite of her fears. “How would you classify this creature, Captain?” she asked. “Among other sea beasts, I mean?”

“Hard to say, lady,” replied Esquelamar, ducking his head under a flap of leathery flesh hanging from the ceiling. “It vented like a whale.”

“That would be fortunate. Whales breathe air as we do. When next this one surfaces to breathe, we could escape.”

“Even if that’s so, we’ve no way of knowing how often it needs to breathe,” Esquelamar said. “It could be hours or-considering this beast’s size-even days.”

The gently sloped passage leveled off and ended at what looked like a pair of doors, each half-round.

They scrutinized the barrier. Vixa poked one of the doors with her fingers. The surface was soft and rubbery. At her touch, the doors parted slightly, and a foul, fishy smell assaulted them.

“Phew! That must lead to the monster’s gut!” Esquelamar gasped.

They certainly didn’t want to investigate that chamber. As there was no other way to go, they turned and retraced their steps, stopping just inside the closed nostril.

“The only way out is the way we came in,” Vixa stated, gesturing at the sealed entrance.

Vanthanoris ran a hand through his silvery hair. “I wonder what happened to those two spearmen? The ones who led us in here.”

“Maybe they fell into the kraken’s stomach,” Harmanutis said flatly. “Good riddance, I say.”

“It’s all very odd,” Armantaro mused. “They didn’t appear to be shipwrecked mariners. Yet, if they were not, then how did they get on the island-er, on the kraken?”

The princess had her mind on more practical matters. “We’ve no way of knowing when this creature will next draw breath,” she announced. “We cannot hope to survive for long without food or water, so we must devise a way to escape. Suggestions?”

The warriors were out of their element. With charging armies, they could cope. With a monstrous sea beast, they were at a loss. A long minute passed, and no one spoke.

“Captain?” Vixa said, turning to that elf. “Any notions?”

The mariner folded his hard, tawny arms and replied, “I can’t tell if we’re moving or not. We might be lolling back on the surface, or lying on the bottom forty fathoms deep. As you said, lady, we have no option but to try to escape. As to the how-” Esquelamar smiled. “Kraken or no, if an animal gets something up its nose, it usually sneezes it out.”

Vixa’s own smile brightened her grimy face. “It does indeed. A splendid idea, Captain.”

They resolved to get as close as possible to the opening through which they’d entered, then jab the kraken with their swords. With luck and the gods’ intercession, the monster would expel them on the surface, or at a depth from which they could swim to the surface.

Armantaro, Harmanutis, and Vanthanoris shed their mail and heavy boots. Esquelamar pulled off his own footwear-beautiful, hand-tooled boots that reached to his knees. Vixa stripped to her smallclothes, which caused the old colonel some embarrassment.

“My lady, this is-this isn’t seemly,” he said haltingly.

“I won’t risk drowning for the sake of modesty, Colonel. My clothes will weigh me down if we must swim,” she pointed out.

The younger soldiers followed her example, stripping to their breechcloths. Armantaro stubbornly refused to remove his shirt and trousers, and the captain retained his emerald green corduroys as well.

“They’re new,” he said simply.

The elves drew their weapons. On Vixa’s signal, they began to jab the leathery walls of their prison. The kraken’s hide was tough. None of their thrusts drew blood or seemed to discommode the creature in the least.

Frustrated, Vixa raised her silver blade and stabbed it into the ceiling. This proved more tender than the walls. A twitching shudder rippled through the tunnel.

“Everyone! Concentrate on the ceiling!” Armantaro ordered.

All four elven blades were driven deeply into the ceiling, over and over. A violent quaking knocked them down. Two swords fell out of the ceiling. The other two-belonging to Vixa and Vanthanoris-hung quivering, embedded in the soft flesh.

The arched opening parted slightly. Water spewed in. “We must be underwater!” Esquelamar cried.

The beast shook itself again, rattling them helplessly.

Vixa was determined to reclaim her treasured sword. With the floor lurching and the ceiling swaying, this was not a simple task. She made two fruitless attempts, her hand missing completely. She finally grabbed the hilt on her third try.

At that moment, the nostril opened fully, and a wall of water smashed in. They were blasted back down the passage.

Vixa struggled frantically for a handhold. She knew they could be washed to destruction in the kraken’s gullet. Water dark as ink roared over her. She couldn’t see a thing.

The torrent slammed them against a barrier that buckled under the impact. This must be the “door,” to the monster’s gullet. They squirmed against the membrane, but the rush of water held them pinned in place.

Suddenly, they were rocketing in the opposite direction, back up the passage. The mad torrent of seawater had reversed itself as the kraken exhaled. Vixa hurtled on, battered by the water, debris, and the bodies of her friends. A stunning blow landed across her back as she shot through the nostril opening, then all was darkness and cold, swirling water. She was spinning free, weightless.

Her lungs were burning. Frantically, she began to swim. Was she heading for the surface? She couldn’t tell. The buffeting of the water had knocked nearly all the air out of her. She had to breathe! Vixa put out her hands, groping for her comrades. Nothing.

Something streaked past her, brushing her outstretched arm. The kraken? There was a face staring at her. A strange, un-elven face. Smiling.

It was a dolphin. She’d never seen a dolphin this close before, and now that she had, she was nearly dead. She simply had to breathe. Her lips parted. Before the water could fill her mouth, something hard was shoved against her lips.

Air! Not cold seawater, but air flowed into her starving lungs. The dolphin had pushed a hard, white object against her face. With both hands, she pressed it to her mouth. It looked like a big seashell, but it held air-sweet, delicious air!

The dolphin bumped her right arm with its dorsal fin. On its second pass, she grabbed the dark gray fin and held on tight. The dolphin’s powerful flukes propelled her through the inky depths.

Water rushed over her face, and she gripped the precious airshell even more tightly. Casting a look behind, she saw other undulating forms that were probably more dolphins. Had her friends been rescued as well? She sent up a silent prayer to Astra to keep them safe.

They swam for many minutes; then Vixa noticed a faint yellowish glow ahead and below. The dolphin changed direction, swimming toward the yellow light. They entered a zone of warmer water. A cherry-red glimmer beneath them told Vixa there were volcanic vents here. Columns of water warmed by the vents streamed upward.

The dolphin took her between two spires of stone. One, she noticed, passing just a foot away, was carved with geometric shapes and strange glyphs. Between the bases of the spires ran a long, white ribbon. It looked astonishingly like a road. A road on the bottom of the sea!

The dolphin slowed, fell in with a school of other dolphins. To Vixa they all looked very much alike-nine feet long, gray backs and flanks, lighter bellies. The school swam above the surface of the white road.

The water was brighter than before, suffused with a warm yellow light. Once more she looked over her shoulder. Vixa could make out the shapes of her friends, likewise being towed by dolphins. They all had shells clasped to their mouths, as she did. The number was wrong though. Her three comrades from Qualinost were there, but of Captain Esquelamar she saw no sign. Still, the sight of her friends cheered her tremendously.

She faced ahead again just as her slowly swimming dolphin reached another pair of stone spires. These were carved to resemble giant squids. The road rose, then dipped. Beyond was a sight that almost caused Vixa to drop her breathing shell.

It was a city.

This was the source of the golden light that brightened the depths. A vast structure rose from the seafloor in a swirling curve. Light shone through arched doorways. Vixa could see white shapes that resembled towers and buildings. Dolphins passed in and out of the lower reaches of the framework. She could only guess at the height of the peak. It was far beyond the limit of her blurry sight. The Tower of the Sun in Qualinost was over six hundred feet tall, yet this structure seemed much taller.

Her dolphin dove down to the lowest levels. Vixa could see beings walking on two legs near one of the structure’s openings. Were there people down there?

The dolphin slowed and sank until its belly rested on the white marble road. He shook himself violently, and Vixa let go of his fin. Her rescuer darted off, leaving her alone.

As she floated there, pondering her next move, Vixa became aware that the water was filled with the sound of odd clicks and whistles. The dolphins bearing her friends drew up beside her, depositing the rest of the party on the road. Armantaro grasped her arm. She nodded vigorously to assure him she was unharmed.

Harmanutis tugged at the colonel’s arm and pointed. Silhouetted against the city light came six very tall figures. The elves closed together.

The six strangers were the tallest beings Vixa had ever seen, easily a head taller than herself. Their skin was deep blue. It appeared they wore green-enameled armor, helmets, and short kilts. The water blurred her sight too much for her to make out details. What they bore in their hands was easily recognizable: short-handled spears. These were the beings draped in eelweed cloaks whom the elves had followed into the nostril of the kraken.

The blue-skinned strangers surrounded them. Vixa felt a pang of regret as her sword and scabbard were taken from her. Regret turned to surprise as she got a close look at the hand that gripped her sword; the fingers were unnaturally long, with a thin webbing of skin connecting them to each other.

The strangers herded them toward the city. It was awkward for the elves, half-walking and half-swimming, but Vixa had to admire the grace of their guards’ movements.

As she drew closer, Vixa saw that the delicate-seeming city structure was actually made of pink granite. The walls of the lowest course were extremely thick. The group passed into a tunnel twelve paces deep, hollowed out with many side passages. Light came from pumpkin-sized globes attached at intervals to the overhead stonework.

The road forked, and the guards guided the elves to the left. The road inclined upward. They swam up the ramp and emerged into a large, air-filled chamber, twenty paces long and ten wide. The ceiling was dappled with waves of light reflected off the water. Vixa removed the shell from her mouth. The air here smelled sweet enough, and it was pure bliss to be able to breathe freely once more.

At the top of the ramp was a stone pier in the style of a seaside quay. Assembled on this pier were more tall, blue-skinned strangers. These wore silky robes of pale green, sweeping cloaks of mauve, and elaborate headdresses of shells and gemstones. Their hair ranged from apple green to deepest jade and was cut to shoulder length. At the center of the group was the most striking water-dweller of all. His short green hair was fixed in ringlets around his face, and he wore no headdress. Numerous necklaces of shells and gems covered his smooth chest. As she drew closer, Vixa saw that his nose was long and straight, his cheekbones high. Large violet eyes dominated his face. She pushed her sodden hair from her eyes, and something else attracted her notice. Astonished, she halted in her tracks.

The water-dweller’s ears were upswept like Vixa’s own. He was an elf. All the blue-skinned water-dwellers were elves.

“Greetings,” he said in excellent Elvish. “I am Coryphene. Welcome to the city of Urione.”