Mistshore

CHAPTER 9

Icelin awoke to darkness and more shadows moving around her. This time she felt real terror, for she knew where she was. The gag stank in her mouth, and voices floated around her.

Cerest was there, somewhere in the darkness. She heard him say, "We'll wait for gateclose. Bring her, if she's awake. Be careful of her arm."

Icelin looked down and saw the clean bandage tightly wrapped around her injured arm. There was a dull ache where the pain had been.

Two pairs of rough hands grabbed her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. The dark-haired man stood to her right. Her captors guided her over to the center of a large, rectangular room.

Icelin looked up, just as she'd done in her dream. Timber beams crisscrossed above her head. Tin sheets formed parts of the walls. Wooden crates lined the whole building, some stacked as high as the ceiling.

A warehouse, Icelin thought. She felt the floor slope down sharply; the ground the warehouse was built upon had shifted over the years. There was a good chance they were still in Mistshore, near the harbor.

In the center of the room, Cerest and the female elf stood talking. The two men guiding her sat her on a crate before them. The dark-haired man removed her gag.

Cerest faced her, a cloak hood tucked close around his face. He appeared to be keeping his distance from the human men. Did he fear their reaction to his scars? The thought came unbidden to Icelin, and she wondered why the murderous elf would be bothered to care how others saw him. He nodded to one of the men.

"Wait outside," he said. "Greyas, you remain here, but step back so we may talk."

With the men dismissed, Cerest focused his attention solely on Icelin. "Hello again," he said softly. The female elf-Shenan, he'd called her-brought a lantern close and handed it to Cerest. The elf held the flickering flame close to her face so he could see her clearly.

"What do you want?" Icelin asked.

To her surprise, the elf went down on one knee in front of her, so that he was looking up into her face. She supposed he meant to appear non-threatening, but Icelin found the effort he took more unsettling than comforting. He angled his body so that the unscarred portion of his face was most visible.

"I would like," Cerest said, "for you to tell me how much you remember of your childhood."

The question was so bizarrely out of context with the situation that Icelin didn't immediately answer. Cerest, intent on her expression, seemed to take her silence as defiance. He frowned.

"Icelin," he said, at the same time gesturing to the dark-haired man-Greyas, he'd called him. "I know you don't trust me. That's to be expected. You don't remember who I am." He smiled. "But I have known you for a very long time. Gods, I named you. I remember the night you were born-"

Icelin lunged at him. Shenan caught her by the throat and pushed her back, but Icelin's gesture had the desired effect. Cerest stopped speaking and stood back a safe distance. He regarded her with wounded curiosity.

"Why do you behave this way?" he asked. "I've not hurt you, and I don't intend to."

"You killed Brant," Icelin said. Her throat burned. "All your lies, no matter how prettily spoken, won't change that."

"I'm not lying," Cerest said. "Brant cared for you. He was a good man. I know that." When Icelin only stared at him, he went on, "But I think you'll discover Brant had his share of secrets, especially where you were concerned. I'm confident he acted to protect you, but in doing so, he shortened his own life."

"Master." Greyas stepped forward again, dragging a smaller figure. Icelin pulled her gaze away from Cerest's face to see who it was. Her heart dropped.

Fannie stood in front of Greyas, looking like a doll in the man's muscular arms. While Icelin watched, Greyas placed a hand on either side of Fannie's head. Fannie quailed, but he did not exert any pressure on her skull. He didn't have to. Fannie stood utterly still, held in place by the mere threat of what he could do to her with those large hands. She was gagged, as Icelin had been. Her eyes were huge above the scrap of dirty cloth. She looked beseechingly at Icelin.

"We took her at the same time we took you," Cerest said. He motioned for Greyas to bring Fannie into the light. He pushed her, stumbling and barefoot, into the small circle of illumination.

"Shenan," Cerest said, and the female elf stepped forward, taking Greyas's place at Fannie's back. She patted the woman on the shoulder, whispering comforting noises that made Icelin's skin crawl.

"What do you remember of your childhood, Icelin?" Cerest repeated the question slowly, glancing meaningfully between Fannie and Icelin.

"I am an orphan," Icelin said. She met Fannie's eyes, trying to silently reassure her. "My parents were killed when I was barely two summers old. Brant, my great-uncle, raised me."

"Your great-uncle," Cerest said. "What about your grandfather, Icelin?"

"My grandfather is dead. I have no other living family," Icelin said. "Why are you asking me these questions? If you want to revenge yourself on me, let this woman go and have your pleasure! What more can I possibly give you than my life?"

Cerest's brow furrowed in confusion. "Revenge?" he said, sounding almost amused. "My dear girl, far from it. I have no quarrel with you. What gave you that notion?"

"I-" Icelin turned away. Her mind raced. He wasn't after her. She'd been wrong this whole time. He hadn't been in the fire____________________

Relief and fear vied for control of Icelin's emotions. She hadn't injured the elf. But if it wasn't revenge he sought, why had he killed Brant? Why had he hunted her so diligendy?

"Shenan," Cerest said quietly.

Fannie's muffled scream snapped Icelin back to the present. She looked up in horror to see the female elf holding Fannie's head back by the hair. She placed a gleaming dagger blade against Fannie's arched neck. Blood welled where the blade pressed flesh. The dagger was so sharp, one slip and Shenan would slice open the prostitute's throat.

"Answer my question, please," Cerest said. He sounded like a father coaxing a child. "I think it important I hear this tale, so that we understand each other."

Icelin swallowed. She looked at Cerest, letting him see the undisguised hatred. "I studied magic under the tutelage of Nelzun Decampter, a skilled wizard," she said. "My great-uncle paid out most of his savings to apprentice me to the man because Decampter specialized in handling wielders of unstable magic. Such was mine. I studied under Nelzun for three years and acquired a reasonable level of skill in the Art."

"A reasonable level-did Nelzun believe you had the potential for greater power?" Cerest asked.

Icelin's jaw clenched at the eager light in his eyes. "Yes. He wanted me to travel with him, to test my skills out in the wodd. But I had no desire to leave my home. That mistake cost Nelzun his life."

"What happened?" Cerest said.

"First tell her to move the dagger," Icelin said, looking at Shenan but addressing Cerest.

Cerest nodded to the elf woman. Shenan appeared disappointed as she removed the blade from Fannie's throat.

"Nelzun took me into the city to test my powers. He wanted me to be able to defend myself in the rougher districts. None of the spells I was to cast that day were dangerous, and Waterdeep is more stable than many cities when it comes to magic going awry." Icelin knew she shouldn't care what the elf thought of her, but the need to explain, to justify what couldn't be justified, clawed at her.

"We were in Dock Ward. A fight broke out at a tavern as we were passing by, and the brawl spilled into the street." Icelin could see it clearly in her mind: the shattered door, the man being thrown into the street. Another pair of men followed, brandishing weapons. She'd thought…

It didn't matter what they'd intended. She never had the chance to find out.

"I ran toward the fight. I left Nelzun. When I saw the man about to be attacked, I cast the only spell I knew that would hurt. I'd never called the fire before, but Nelzun had showed me how it was done."

" To summon fire to yourfingertips is one of the easiest attack spells to master, because you cannot burn yourself, as real flame would."

Her teacher's words, Icelin thought. But he'd never given a care to what might happen to him if things went wrong.

"The spell ran wild?" Cerest asked. He touched his face, rubbing the scars thoughtfully. "The fire spread?"

"I can still remember how high the flames soared," Icelin said. She was dimly aware of wetness on her face. She reached up with her bound hands and felt the tears. It didn't matter. They had already seen how weak she was. "There was a boardinghouse- old wood, and a dry season-next door to the tavern. The fire took the roof first, caving in the ceiling on the people inside.

Five people on the topmost floor were killed instandy, including a Watchman who'd been investigating a woman's disappearance. The people below escaped-miraculously, I thought." She took a shuddering breath. "Until the spell ended, and I realized Nelzun wasn't with me."

"What happened to him?" Cerest asked. But Icelin wasn't listening. She recited the tale automatically, numbing her mind to the most painful part of all.

"Nelzun had gone into the boardinghouse to save the rest of the people inside. He got them all out, and then he collapsed outside the building. I tried to get him to take healing, but he said he'd breathed too much of the smoke, that healing wouldn't save him. He spent his last breaths telling me not to blame myself."

Icelin looked up. The warehouse was utterly silent. Greyas stood somewhere in the shadows, unseen, but probably listening. Nothing seemed to exist outside the dim circle of lantern light: it was only herself, Cerest, Shenan, and Fannie. She glanced at the two women and was horrified to find them both looking at her with pity in their eyes.

Gods above, she'd never thought to be making a confession before two monsters and a terrified prostitute. She'd never imagined such beings pitying her.

"I understand now," Cerest said. "You believed I escaped the boardinghouse fire, horribly scarred and out for revenge against the lass who'd maimed me."

Icelin nodded.

Cerest smiled gently. "You have nothing to fear from me, Icelin. My scars are from a different fire. Like your teacher, I see great strength in you. I want to help you harness your gifts-* "Never!" Icelin's shout shattered the stillness. "I swore I'd never pursue magic again."

Cerest and Shenan traded glances. Icelin couldn't tell what passed between them.

"She is untried, Cerest," Shenan said, voicing her thoughts aloud. "You have led us on a fool's chase." Her tone was mild, but she tightened her grip on the dagger.

Good, Icelin thought. Let them slay each other and have done with the whole business. For the first time in her life she felt grateful for being inadequate.

"She can learn," Cerest said. "She's already had a wizard's training, which is more than Elgreth had."

"Elgreth," Icelin said, surprised, "you knew my grandfather?"

"It's true," said Cerest. "Elgreth was my best friend."

"No. You're lying again," Icelin said. His words cut her. This couldn't be. Her family would never be connected to a murderer.

"You don't know your family as I do, Icelin. Your grandfather was afflicted with a powerful spellscar. Did Brant ever tell you that?"

Mute, Icelin shook her head.

"He should have. The scar gave Elgreth substantial abilities," Cerest said, "abilities that I believe you also possess."

"That's not possible. You have to be exposed to the spellplague to bear such a scar," Icelin said. "I have never been outside Waterdeep's walls."

"You were too young to remember-"

"I remember everything!" Her body shook with suppressed fury. "I possess all my memories, whether I want them or not. And you, sir, are not among them."

Out of the corner of her eye, Icelin glimpsed movement. A slender shape flowed down the sloping floor toward them. Icelin thought it was a snake moving in a crooked line, but as it drew closer, she recognized the metallic smell. The substance pooled in a thick circle at her feet.

Cerest recognized it at the same time. He drew his sword.

"Greyas!" he cried. But there was no answer from the shadows.

Cerest looked down at the blood pool and cursed. Shenan shoved Fannie away and brandished her own blade, moving into position at Cerest's back.

Icelin used the distraction to slide off the back of the crate, putting it between her and the elves. She heard Fannie stumbling for cover, but Cerest was no longer paying her any attention. He was watching the shadows intently.

"Show yourselves!" He shouted.

Tense, Icelin waited, but there came no answer from the shadows.

A breath passed, and a sound like beating wings came out of the darkness. A huge metal cleaver buried itself deep into the crate where Icelin had been sitting. The handle quivered from side to side.

Icelin reached up and snatched the weapon. As soon as her lingers touched the handle, the attack came.

Sull leaped from behind a crate, charging into the circle with a loud roar. The sight of the red-haired giant hurtling across the warehouse was enough to break apart Cerest and Shenan. They dived for cover, and Sull placed himself squarely in front of Icelin. He grabbed the cleaver from her and sliced her bonds.

"Get back!" Sull shouted as he parried a blow from Shenan's blade with his mallet. The dagger left a deep gouge in the wood.

Icelin backed away, seeking cover. Cerest broke to follow when another shadow moved-a large burst of darkness that came from above.

Ruen dropped from a column of stacked crates, landing behind Cerest. He grabbed the elf around the throat, dragging him away from Icelin.

"Greyas!" Cerest shouted, twisting to shove the man off. "Rondel!" He spun. Icelin saw the instant the elf locked eyes with Ruen.

For a breath, Cerest froze like a frightened deer. Icelin heard him mutter, "Spellscarred," before he went for his sword.

Ruen stood before him, unarmed and at ease. His knees slighdy bent, he all but danced on the balls of his feet. Cerest thrust with his blade, and Ruen jumped back. The thrust never came close to his flesh. The elf swung again, and again Ruen dodged, this time finding an opening to punch Cerest in the gut.

The elf stumbled back. His sword wavered; he didn't know whether to attack or defend.

He has no notion of how to fight an unarmed man, Icelin realized. It would be more to his advantage if Ruen had a weapon.

The thief, on the other hand, appeared to be reading Cerest's attacks before he made them. He danced back, sweeping his foot out in a kick that connected solidly with Cerest's knee. The elf had his full weight propped there; he went down with a cry of fury.

This wasn't desperate street fighting. Icelin observed Ruen's measured stance, the balance between rest and motion. He stayed suspended between the two, almost floating, until Cerest's attack came. Only trained, disciplined warriors fought this way, facing whirling steel with an air of serenity and absolute comfort in the strength of their bodies.

Ruen Morleth was not a thief, or at least, not only a thief. He was a monk, a warrior trained in unarmed combat.

A loud pounding sounded outside the warehouse door. Icelin tore her attention away from the battle. Ruen and Sull must have sealed the door from the inside when they'd entered the warehouse. Cerest's men-gods knew how many had come running at the elf's shout-were trying to break down the door. The flimsy wood and rusted iron wouldn't hold for long.

Not this time. She wouldn't be caught again. Icelin took a deep breath and searched her mind, cycling through spell after spell in the vast tower library.

Wind. Force. Her teacher had shown her how the spell could be used if she was ever jumped in Blacklock Alley.

Good enough to seal a door. Spellbooks opened and flew before her mind. She discarded the safe spells, those that would do no harm. She threw them all into a dusty corner and pictured a black book, something fearful and dangerous. Yes. Those were the spells she feared most, but they were the only ones that would aid her friends.

Then it came to her: a black tome with a gold spine. The words were written in faded ink, as if her mind were instinctively trying to protect itself from the deadly power in the words. She forced herself to visualize them clearly. Her heart tripped rapidly in her chest. She thought of a song to calm herself, chanted in time to the music, but her voice quivered. She was no monk. There would be no serenity for her in this fight.

The spell manifested in a burst of energy. Icelin's hair blew straight back from her face. The hot wind made her eyes stream. She lifted her hands, and the wind rose, spiraling outward to the door in a contained funnel. The force of it grated against the wood, forcing the door tight into its frame. The pounding ceased.

"Ruen! Sull, let's go! I can't hold it for long!" Icelin screamed above the wind.

Sull turned, his mallet tangled with Shenan's dagger. He kept barreling into her, knocking her off balance so she couldn't cast a proper spell. "Hold on, lass. We're comin'!"

Icelin heard a loud thud. It sounded like someone had been thrown into a pile of crates. She was too focused on the spell to see whether it was a friend or a foe.

The breath burned in her chest. Too hot, she thought. The air thickened, and sweat poured down her face. The spell was too strong. It was happening just like before, but this would be much worse. She could feel the heat building. Paint bubbled on the warehouse walls.

Gods, don't do this to me. Not again.

Five years fell away like scales. She was losing control; the spell was slipping away, taking on a life of its own. Icelin was powerless to stop it. She could hear the screams coming from the boardinghouse. So many people, trying to get out…

The wooden door buckled in its frame. Frightened shouts rang out from the other side. Icelin fought to contain the wind, to keep it caged in its deadly funnel.

Flames burst into being and flew along the funnel's rim. Icelin could do nothing but watch them, a dozen restless sprites spiraling through the air. Pain shot through her after each flame appeared, as if they were being torn from her body.

Icelin dropped to her knees, and the funnel burst. Freed, the fire shot in all directions. The deadly flame arrows buried in crates or ricocheted off the tin walls.

Everyone in the warehouse would be a target, Icelin thought wildly. She couldn't end the spell; the magic became unrecognizable once the spell went wild. She had no way to contain it now.

Through a haze of smoke and pain, Icelin felt a presence behind her. For all she knew, it could have been Cerest or one of his men, come to stick a dagger in her back. Somehow, she knew it was Ruen. The thief crouched behind her.

"Can you walk?" He had to shout to be heard above the roaring wind.

Icelin shook her head. The slight movement made her vision swim.

"I can't touch you," Ruen said. "My ring will enhance the spell. It could kill us all."

"Where's Sull?" Icelin said. "Fannie-she's here too." She couldn't see them through the smoke. The crates were on fire, the blaze spreading to every corner of the warehouse. Soon the ceiling would collapse, just as it had done five years ago.

"Sull and Fannie are fine," Ruen said. "The others fled in fear of your spell."

Relief flooded Icelin, bringing with it a sense of peace. This was justice, she thought. I will die here and never hurt anyone again.

"Go," Icelin said. "Get out of here. Make sure Sull gets to safety, and your marker is paid. That's all I care-"

A wave of energy shuddered through Icelin's body. She felt the last vestiges of the spell inside her explode outward. The door and part of the wall blew apart, but Icelin didn't hear the grinding, tearing metal. The force of the blast deafened her.

"How convenient," Ruen said. He was still shouting, but his voice seemed to come from very far away. He had his hands at her armpits, dragging her to her feet. "You made us a door."

"You shouldn't have… done that," Icelin said. She swayed on her feet. A beam broke away from the ceiling, trailing a sheet of flame all the way to the ground.

"We've got to run," Ruen said. He took her hand, yanking her behind him. "Put your arms around my neck."

"But the ring-"

"Do it!"

Icelin wrapped her arms around him. Ruen lifted her onto his back and sprinted to the gap in the wall. Icelin felt as if she were flying. More beams dropped around them, but Ruen found a path through as if by magic. The fire and smoke were everywhere, but he kept running.

Suddenly they were through. Cool air hit Icelin's face. It was daylight.

The twisted opening spat them out onto a small dock behind the warehouse. Parts of it burned with the building, but Ruen didn't stop to see if it would hold their weight. He charged down the narrow platform all the way to the edge and jumped into the water.

The impact shook Icelin loose from Ruen's back, but he stayed beside her. The cold water shocked her limbs into functioning. With Ruen's aid, she swam to the surface.

"We'll say in the harbor," Ruen said when they'd caught their breath. "Swim underwater as much as you can," he told her. "They'll be watching to see if we survived. We've got to find cover."

He dived down. Icelin followed, keeping a hand on his flank so she wouldn't lose him in the murky water. As far as she could tell, they were headed roughly in the direction of the shore.

They surfaced in a thick stand of brush about thirty feet from the dock. Sull waited in the weeds.

"I saw you go off the dock," he said. "Fannie slipped away. No one's watching that I can see."

Icelin was shaking by the time she got out of the water. When she came within reach, Sull pulled her against his chest, hugging ber so hard Icelin couldn't breathe.

"I'm all right," Icelin said weakly. She patted him on the back.

"Thought I'd lost you, little one," the butcher said roughly. He released her and mopped his eyes with his apron. Ruen stood a little apart, scanning the area. The warehouse continued its slow collapse, but they were clear of the devastation.

"Let's get out of here," Ruen said finally. He moved away, crouching low along the shoreline, not waiting for their reply.

"Where are we goin'?" Sull asked. He led Icelin by the hand, half-supporting her. "She needs rest."

"Back into the water," Ruen said. He waded in up to his waist. "Keep her head up. She'll be fine."

The water felt colder. Icelin's teeth chattered, but she swam with Sull's aid, following Ruen into the harbor.

They swam clear of the dock and out into open water. The sky was gray and overcast. In the distance, deep blue clouds threatened rain, but the day was still too bright. Icelin felt horribly exposed. At any moment, she expected shouts to go up from the shore.

"Don't worry," Ruen said, seeing her expression. "We're going under." He took in her chattering teeth and general state of disarray. "Sull, you'll have to tow her if she slows."

"I can make it," Icelin said, but she slurred the words.

"We'll stay under until we reach the wreckage," Ruen said, nodding to the floating mass of Mistshore's main body. "We should be able to swim under the docks and footpaths. Ready?"

Icelin nodded, and they dived. Sull kept one arm around her and used the other to swim close to Ruen.

They swam for what seemed like an eternity. After a time, Icelin simply floated in Sull's grip, concentrating on keeping her breath in her body. When she felt she could bear no more, Sull angled upward to the light.

They came up under one of the wooden pathways. There was barely room for their heads underneath the rotting planks, but the sound of the waves lapping against the pilings concealed their gasping breaths.

Icelin could hear footsteps echoing loudly just above their heads. "Where are you taking us?" she whispered..

Ruen put a finger to his lips. He disappeared beneath the surface, leaving her and Sull to tread water.

"We should swim back to shore," Icelin said. "I don't like this." She expected Sull to echo the sentiment, but the butcher shook his head. Water plastered his red hair over his ears.

"I wouldn't have found you without him," Sull said. "He tracked you. Persistent as a demon, he was. Ghosted into that warehouse and took out the meanest of the elPs men without a sound."

"But why?" Icelin said. "He never wanted to help me. He could have left you on the beach to die."

"Maybe he is everythin' you thought he was," Sull said.

Ruen broke the surface a few feet away and waved a hand. Icelin experienced a renewed shock of weakness as she slogged through the water. "We're here," Ruen said.

"Where?" Icelin asked.

"If you can hold on for a little longer, I'm taking us someplace safe," Ruen said. "Nine feet straight down there's a figurehead: the Blind Mermaid, they call her. She sticks up from the sand, so you can't see her fish half. She's buried along with the rest of the The Darter."

"The Darter?" Sull said. "You mean she was part of a ship?"

"She sdll is," Ruen said. "But she has a more important job now. She's the guardian of a door, a secret door we're going to need. So we'll be paying her a visit." He raised a hand to forestall more questions. "When I go down, you'll follow a few feet behind. Don't be afraid of what you see, or how deep we go. Just keep following me."

Icelin nodded, but her hesitance must have shown. Ruen scowled and shook his head impatiently.

"This is important," he said, speaking to both of them. "You can't turn around. Once we go down, it's all the way. Or you'll drown. That's how they keep out the ones who aren't supposed to be there."

Isn't that us? Icelin thought, but she didn't give it voice.

"We'll follow you," she said. She'd decided to trust Ruen Morleth once, and now Sull seemed convinced of the man. He'd saved her from the fire, risking his own life to do so.

They dived. The water seemed darker here, a creature stretching out inky black arms to envelop them. When they got to the bottom, Icelin and Sull stayed back. Icelin pushed her drifting hair out of her eyes and strained to see what Ruen was doing ahead of them. Craning around his body, she saw the figurehead.

The wooden mermaid was covered in a shawl of seaweed, the thin, green streamers trailing behind her like a living cloak. Buried to the waist in sand, the mermaid stared up to the surface through her sightless eyes.

Ruen put his thumbs to both her eye sockets and pushed. The wooden orbs disappeared inside her skull, and Ruen back-stroked furiously, propelling himself away from the figurehead.

Light burst from the mermaid's eyes, beams of illumination that spilled over her wooden sockets and down her rigid face like tears. The rotting wood glowed golden, suffusing, impossibly, with life.

The mermaid's skin turned white, and her hair moved in the water, shifting colors from brown to blue-green. She uncrossed her arms from in front of her bare breasts, brandishing a trident in one hand, and a glowing green orb in the other. She turned her head at an odd angle to regard them. Though her body now throbbed with life, her eyes remained vacant.

She doesn't really live, Icelin thought. She's a construct of some sort. A guardian, Ruen had said.

"Welcome to the Cradle," the mermaid spoke. The words reached Icelin's ears clearly, magically propelled through the water. "Those who seek entrance, come forward. But do no harm in Arowall's house, or face a slow death in Umberlee's embrace."

With those cryptic words, the mermaid lifted her arms, crossing the trident in front of her. The orb flashed green, and the trident glowed in answer. She brought it down in one swift stroke, driving the weapon into the sand covering her lower half.

A deep rumbling echoed beneath them. Awestruck, Icelin watched the sand roil, parting on either side of the mermaid's body. Contained by magic, the tempest of sand and water swirled around the mermaid and revealed her glossy silver tail. Beneath the webbed fin, a dark space yawned.

Lit by spheres of magical radiance, the narrow passage led into the hull of what looked like an ancient sailing ship. The wood around the animated figurehead was rotting and caked with barnacles, but somehow it remained intact.

Ruen swam for the passage; Icelin and Sull followed quickly. Icelin's chest ached to draw breath, and as she swam down the dark tunnel, she realized what Ruen meant about not turning back.

The sand was already swirling behind them, sealing off the entrance. The mermaid resumed her frozen pose, her sighdess eyes betraying nothing of what lay beneath her fin. There was no way out behind them. It was death or forward.