Serpent Mage

29

“Where do you think yer taking that there boat?”

The dwarven deckhand had popped up out of nowhere seemingly, was glowering at the three young people.

“You are speaking to a royal chieftain’s daughter, sir,” said Alake, drawing herself up imperiously. “And to the daughter of your king.”

“That’s right,” said Grundle, marching forward.

The deckhand, abashed, snatched the shapeless hat off his head and bobbed from the waist. “Pardon, missy. But my orders are to watch over these here boats. No one takes one without the Vater’s permission.”

“I know that,” Grundle snapped. “And we’ve got my father’s permission. Show him, Alake.”

“What?” Alake jumped, stared at her.

“Show him the permission letter from my father.” Grundle winked, glanced significantly at the pouch that hung from a braided belt encircling the human’s waist.

The top edges of several small, tightly rolled parchments were barely visible, peeping out over the edge.

Alake flushed, her eyes narrowed. “These are my spells!” she mouthed angrily.

“I’m not showing them to anyone.”

“Women,” said Devon hurriedly, taking hold of the deckhand’s arm and drawing him away. “They never know what they have in their pouches.”

“It’s all right,” Grundle shot back. “You can show him. He can’t read!” Alake glared at her.

“Come on! We don’t have much time! Haplo’s probably left by now.” Alake sighed. Reaching into her pouch, she drew forth one of the parchments.

“Will this do?” she asked, unrolling it, thrusting it beneath the deckhand’s nose, snapping it back up again before he could do more than blink.

“I ... I guess so.” The dwarf ruminated. “Just to be on the safe side, I think I’ll go ask the Vater himself. You don’t mind waiting, do you?”

“No, go ahead. Take your time.” Grundle was gracious. The deckhand departed. The moment his back was turned, the three climbed through a hatch in the hull and from there into the small submersible, which hung onto the side of the mothership rather like a young dolphin clinging to its parent. Grundle shut both hatches—the one on the hull and the one in the submersible, and detached the vessel from the sun-chaser.

“Are you sure you know how to operate this thing?” Alake had as much use for mechanical devices as Grundle had for magic.

“Sure,” Grundle said promptly. “I’ve been practicing. I thought, if we ever got a chance to spy on the dragon-snakes, we’d need a boat to do it.”

“Very clever,” Alake conceded magnanimously.

The water around Draknor, unlike the rest of the Goodsea, was dark and murky.

“Like swimming through blood,” Devon remarked, peering out the porthole in search of Haplo’s small vessel.

The two girls agreed complacently. The no-fear weed had lived up to its reputation.

“What’s he doing?” Alake wondered uneasily. “He’s been inside his ship the longest time.”

“I told you,” Grundle said. “He’s not coming back. He’s probably fixing it up to live in for a while—”

“There he is,” Devon cried, pointing.

Haplo’s submersible was easily recognized: it belonged to Yngvar and was therefore marked with the royal crest.

Assuming that Haplo knew where he was going, which they did not (none of them having been taught the mysteries of navigating the Goodsea[48]), the mensch tagged along behind.

“Maybe he’ll see us. Grundle, keep back,” Alake said worriedly.

“Pooh. In this muck, he can’t see us. Not even if we were on his—”

“—tail,” said Devon hurriedly.

Grundle was steering. Alake and Devon stood behind her, peering eagerly over her shoulder. The no-fear weed was working quite effectively. They were agreeably tense and excited but not afraid. Suddenly, however, Grundle turned around to her friends with a stricken look.

“I just thought of something!”

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Do you remember the last time we saw the dragon-snake? It talked with Haplo. Remember?”

Both nodded.

“And it spoke his language. We couldn’t understand a word! How can we find out what they’re saying when we don’t know what they’re saying?”

“Oh, dear,” said Alake, looking downcast. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“So what do we do?” Grundle asked, deflated, her excitement for the adventure gone. “Go back to the sun-chaser?”

“No,” said Devon decisively. “Even if we can’t understand what they’re saying, we can use our eyes and maybe we’ll learn something that way. Besides, Haplo might be in danger. He might need our help.”

“And my side whiskers might grow until they touch my feet!” Grundle retorted.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Devon asked.

Grundle looked at her friend. “Alake?”

“I agree with Devon. I say we go on.”

“I guess we go on,” said Grundle, shrugging. Then she cheered up. “Who knows? We might find some more of those jewels.”

Haplo sailed the submersible slowly toward Draknor, taking his time, trying to avoid running aground again. The water was dark and foul-looking. He could barely see through it, had no idea where he was or which direction he was headed. He was letting the dragon-snakes guide him, letting them draw him toward them.

The sigla on his skin glowed bright blue. It took enormous force of will for him to steer the ship closer to Draknor’s shore, when every instinct screamed for him to turn around and sail away.

The submersible surfaced, bobbed up out of the water, with a suddenness that startled him. A large stretch of beach was visible, white sand glowing in the darkness with an eerie, ghostly light that emanated from some unknown source, perhaps the crushed and crumbled rock itself.

No welcoming fire burned this time. Either he was unexpected, which Haplo couldn’t believe, or he was unwelcome. He adjusted the oilskin pouch, felt it press heavy and reassuring against his skin.

Beaching the vessel, Haplo jumped from the deck to the shore, being careful to avoid getting his feet wet. He landed safely on the white sand, took a moment to get his bearings.

The beach extended several leagues before him. Tall rock formations, their jagged peaks black against the Goodsea, rose up out of the sand. Odd mountains, Haplo thought, eyeing them with disgust. They reminded him of gnawed and broken bones. He glanced around, wondering where the dragon-snakes were. His gaze glanced across a dark opening in the side of one of the mountains. A cave.

Haplo began to walk across the deserted, barren beach. The sigla on his skin burned like fire.

The three mensch sailed into the cove so close behind Haplo they were practically nose to rudder. Once there, however, they kept their distance. Peering with difficulty through the dark water, they saw the Patryn beach his ship, watched him jump out, then stop and look around, as if wondering which way to go.

Apparently, he made a decision. He started walking purposefully along the shoreline.

When he was out of earshot, the three guided their small submersible into shore, tied it to a formation of coral that thrust up out of the water like “a finger, warning us away,” Grundle said.

The three laughed.

They waded through the shallow water, forced to hurry to keep Haplo in sight. Tailing him was easy. The Patryn’s skin gave off a radiant blue glow. They crept after him silently.

Or rather, Devon crept after Haplo silently. The elf glided over the sand with graceful ease, treading so lightly his feet never seemed to touch the ground. Grundle fondly imagined she was emulating Devon, and she did manage to move quietly—for a dwarf. Her thick boots clumped, her breath came in wheezing huffs, and she only spoke when she should have kept quiet half—a-dozen times. Alake could move nearly as softly as the elf, but she had forgotten, in the excitement of the moment, to take off her ear-jangles and her beads. One of her magic spells required a small silver bell, wrapped in a pouch. Alake slipped once, the bell gave out a small, muffled ring.

The three froze, holding their breaths, certain Haplo must have heard them. The only fear that the no-fear weed had not been able to dispel was the fear that the Patryn would catch them and send them home.

Haplo kept walking. He obviously hadn’t heard. The three breathed a sigh of relief and continued on.

That the dragon-snakes might have heard them was a thought that never crossed their minds.

Haplo came to a dead standstill outside the cavern. He’d only experienced terror like this once before, standing with his lord outside the Gate of the Labyrinth. His lord had been able to enter.

Haplo had not.

“Enter, Patryn,” hissed a voice from the darkness. “Have no fear. We bow before you.”

Sigla flared red and blue on Haplo’s skin, its light illuminating the darkness beyond. Comforted more by the sight of the power of his magic than by the serpent’s assurance, Haplo walked to the cavern’s opening.

Looking in, he saw them.

The light of his runes reflected off the dragon-snakes’ shining scales. Their bodies were draped over each other in a hideous, tangled coil, making it impossible to tell where one left off and the other began.

It seemed that most were asleep, for their eyes were closed. Haplo moved silently as a Patryn learns to move in the Labyrinth, but he had barely set foot in the cavern when two of the slit red eyes opened, fixed their red-green gaze upon him.

“Patryn,” the king snake said. “Master. You honor us with your presence. Please, come closer.”

Haplo did as the serpent requested, the sigla on his skin itching and burning, nearly driving him wild. He scratched the back of his hand. The reptile’s giant head loomed over him; its body remained resting comfortably on the back of one of its neighbors.

“How did the meeting go between the mensch and the Sartan?” the dragon-snake asked, blinking its eyes lazily.

“As well as you might expect,” Haplo said shortly. He intended to explain his plan, give the snakes their orders, then depart. He loathed these creatures.

“The Sartan—”

“Pardon me,” the serpent interrupted, “but could we speak human? We find that conversing in your language wearies us. Admittedly the human language is crude and awkward, but it does have its moments. If you don’t mind. . . .” Haplo did mind. He didn’t like it, wondered what was behind this sudden change. They’d spoken his language well enough the first time they’d met, spoken it at length. He considered refusing, just to assert his own authority, decided that was pointless. What did it matter what language they talked? He didn’t want to draw this out any longer than necessary.

“Very well,” he said, and continued to explain his plans, speaking the human tongue.

The three mensch watched Haplo enter the cave. His skin was a bright, flaring blue.

“That must be where the snakes live,” exclaimed Grundle.

“Hush!” Devon clapped his hand over her mouth.

“We can’t go in after him,” Alake whispered, worried.

“Maybe there’s a back entrance.”

The three circled around the side of the mountain. They poked and prodded among huge, fallen boulders. Walking was treacherous. The ground was wet and slick with a dark liquid that oozed out of the rocks. They stumbled and fell, Grundle cursed beneath her breath.

The mountainside was covered with huge gouges. “As if something had taken large bites out of it,” Alake said. But none of these gouges led them inside the cavern.

Growing discouraged, they were about to give up when, suddenly, they found exactly what they’d hoped to find.

A small tunnel opened directly into the side of the mountain. The three crept in, examined it. The cave was dry, the way smooth and easy to travel.

“I hear voices!” Grundle said excitedly. “It’s Haplo!” She listened closely, her eyes grew wide. “And I can understand what he’s saying. I’ve learned to speak his language!”

“That’s because he’s speaking human,” said Alake. Devon hid his smile. “At least now we’ll know what they’re saying. I wonder if we can get any closer.”

“Let’s follow this,” said Grundle, pointing. “It seems to be heading the right way.”

The three entered the tunnel which, by the most remarkable chance, appeared to lead them exactly the direction they wanted to go. They hurried along it eagerly. Haplo’s voice became louder and clearer to them each moment, as did the voices of the dragon-snakes. The sides of the tunnel gave off a lovely, phosphorescent glow, lighting their way. "You know,” said Alake, pleased, “it’s almost as if this had been constructed exactly for us.”

“So this means war,” the dragon-snake said.

“Did you have any doubts, Royal One?” Haplo gave a brief laugh.

“Some, I must admit. The Sartan are unpredictable. There are those of their race who are truly selfless, who would welcome the mensch with arms outstretched, would take them into their own dwellings, even though it meant they went without a roof above their heads.”

“Samah isn’t one of those,” said Haplo.

“No, we never supposed he was.”

The dragon-snake seemed to smile, though how it was possible for the reptilian face to alter expression was beyond Haplo.

“And when will the mensch attack?” the dragon-snake pursued.

“That’s what I came to talk to you about, Royal One. I want to make a suggestion. I know this doesn’t go along with the plan we originally discussed, but I think this will work out better. All we have to do—to defeat the Sartan—is flood their city with sea water.”

Haplo explained, in much the same terms as he had explained it to the mensch.

“The seawater will nullify their magic, leave them easy prey for the mensch. . . .”

“Who can then go in and slaughter them indiscriminately. We approve.” The dragon-snake nodded its head lazily.

Several of its neighbors opened their eyes, blinked in sleepy agreement.

“The mensch won’t slaughter anyone. I was thinking more in terms of surrender—total and unconditional. And I don’t want the Sartan to die. I intend to take Samah and maybe a few more back to my lord for questioning. It would be helpful if they were alive enough to answer,” the Patryn concluded wryly.

The slit eyes narrowed dangerously. Haplo tensed, wary.

The serpent sounded almost jocular, however. “And what would the mensch do with the sodden Sartan?”

“By the time the water drains away and the Sartan have dried out, the mensch will have moved onto Surunan. The Sartan will have a tough time evicting several thousand or so humans, elves, and dwarves who have already set up housekeeping. And then, of course, the mensch, with your assistance, Royal One, could always threaten to open the seagates and flood the city again.”

“We would be curious to know why you formulated such a plan, in opposition to our own. What did you find wrong with forcing the mensch into open warfare?” The hissing voice was cold, its tone lethal. Haplo couldn’t understand. What was wrong?

“These mensch can’t fight,” he explained. “They haven’t fought a war in who knows how long? Oh, the humans skirmish among themselves, but hardly anyone gets hurt. The Sartan, even without their magic, could inflict serious casualties. I think my way is better, easier. That’s all.” The dragon-snake lifted its head slightly, slid its body down off its reptile pillow, and slithered across the cavern floor toward Haplo. He stood his ground, kept his gaze fixed firmly on the slit red eyes. Instinct told him that to give in to his fear, to turn and run, would mean his death. His only chance was to face this out, try to discover whatever it was the serpents were truly after.

The flat, toothless head halted an arm’s length from him.

“Since when,” asked the dragon-snake, “does a Patryn care how mensch live ... or how they die?”

A shudder went through Haplo, starting at the core of his being, twisting his insides. He opened his mouth, was about to make some reply.

“Wait!” the dragon-snake hissed. “What have we here?” A form began to coalesce out of the dank cavern air. It shimmered and shifted, faded in, faded out again, wavering either in its magic or in its decision or perhaps some of both.

The dragon-snake watched with interest, though Haplo noted it slid back, moved nearer the knot of its fellows.

The Patryn saw enough of the wavering figure to know who it was—the one person he didn’t need. What the devil was he doing here? Perhaps it’s a trick. Perhaps Samah sent him.

Alfred stepped out of thin air. He glanced around vaguely, eyes blinking in the darkness, and immediately spotted Haplo.

“I’m so glad I found you!” Alfred sighed in relief. “You can’t imagine how difficult that spell is—”

“What do you want?” Haplo demanded, tense, on edge.

“I’m returning your dog,” said Alfred cheerfully, with a wave of his hand at the animal materializing in the air behind him.

“If I’d wanted the beast, which I don’t, I would have come for it myself—” The dog, being somewhat quicker on the uptake than Alfred, caught sight of the dragon-snakes. It began to bark in wild, frantic alarm.

Alfred realized, apparently for the first time, where his magic had taken him. The dragon-snakes were now all wide awake. Bodies writhing, they loosed themselves from their tangled knot with slippery speed.

“Oh . . . m-m-my gracious,” stammered Alfred, and dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

The king dragon-snake’s head darted toward the dog.

Haplo leapt over the comatose body of the Sartan, caught hold of the animal by the scruff of its neck.

“Dog, quiet!” he commanded.

The dog whined, looked at Haplo plaintively, as if uncertain of its welcome. The dragon-snake pulled back.

The Patryn jerked a thumb in Alfred’s direction. “Go to him. Keep an eye on your friend.”

The dog obeyed, first casting a threatening glance at the dragon-snakes, warning them to keep their distance. Padding over to Alfred, the animal began to lick the Sartan’s face.

“Does that annoying creature belong to you?” asked the dragon-snake.

“It used to, Royal One,” Haplo stated. “But now it’s his.”

“Indeed.” The serpent’s slit eyes flared, quickly cooled. “It still seems attached to you.”

“Forget the damn dog!” Haplo snarled, patience wearing thin, rubbed by his fear. “We were discussing my plan. Will you—”

“We discuss nothing in the presence of the Sartan,” interrupted the dragon-snake.

“You mean Alfred? But he’s out cold!”

“He is very dangerous,” hissed the dragon-snake.

“Yeah,” said Haplo, looking at the Sartan, lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.

The dog was licking Alfred’s bald head.

“And he seems to know you quite well.”

Haplo’s skin prickled with danger. Damn and blast that fool Sartan anyway! I should have killed him when I had the chance. I will kill him, my very next opportunity . . .

“Kill him now,” said the dragon-snake.

Haplo tensed, stared grimly at the creatures. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he may have been sent to spy on me. And if he was, I want to know why, who sent him, what he planned to do. You should want to know, too, since you think he’s so dangerous.”

“It matters little to us. And he is dangerous, but we can take care of ourselves. He is a danger to you, Patryn. He is the Serpent Mage. Do not let him live! Kill him . . . now.”

“You call me ‘master,’” said Haplo coolly. “And yet you’re giving me orders. Only one man, my lord, has such power over me. Someday perhaps, I will kill the Sartan, but that day will come in my own time, at my own choosing.” The red-green flame in the serpent’s eyes was almost blinding. Haplo’s own eyes burned and stung. He fought the impulse to blink. If once he looked away, he had the feeling he would see nothing but his own death.

Then suddenly it was dark. The dragon-snake’s eyelids closed over the flame.

“We are concerned solely for your own well-being, Master. Of course, you know best. Perhaps, as you suggest, it would be wise to question him. You may do so now.”

“He won’t talk if you’re around. In fact, he won’t regain consciousness if you’re around,” Haplo added. “If you don’t mind, Royal One, I’ll just take him out. . . .”

Moving slowly, purposefully, keeping an eye on the dragon-snake, Haplo took hold of Alfred’s flaccid arms and hefted the man, who was no lightweight. Haplo positioned the Sartan’s limp body on his shoulder.

“I’ll carry him to my boat. If I find out anything from him, I’ll let you know.”

The dragon-snake’s head weaved back and forth slowly, sinuously. Debating whether or not to let me go, Haplo thought. He wondered what he’d do if the snake refused, ordered him to stay. He supposed he could throw Alfred to them. . . .

The snake’s eyes closed, flared open. “Very well. In the meantime, we will confer on your plan.”

“Take all the time you need,” Haplo grunted. He had no intention of coming back. He started out the cave.

“Pardon me, Patryn,” said the dragon-snake, “but you seem to have forgotten your dog.”

Haplo hadn’t forgotten. That had been his plan. Leave the animal behind, let it act as his ears for him. He glanced back at the dragon-snakes. They knew.

“Dog, come here.”

Haplo clasped his arm around Alfred’s legs. The Sartan dangled down the Patryn’s back, arms flopping like some ungainly, grotesque doll. The dog trotted along after them, now and then giving the Sartan’s hand a comforting lick.

Once outside the cave, Haplo sighed deeply, wiped his forehead with his hand. He was unnerved to find himself shaking.

Devon, Alake, and Grundle arrived at the tunnel’s outlet in time to see Alfred stumble out of the air. Crouching prudently in the shadows, concealed behind several large boulders, the three watched and listened.

“The dog!” breathed Devon.

Alake clasped his hand, counseled silence. She shivered, and looked uneasy when the dragon-snakes ordered Haplo to kill Alfred, but her face cleared when the Patryn told him he would do so in his own time.

“A trick,” she whispered to the other two. “It’s a trick to rescue the man. I’m sure Haplo doesn’t mean to really kill him.”

Grundle looked as if she’d like to argue, but Devon took hold of her hand and squeezed it warningly. The dwarf subsided into a muttering silence. Haplo left, taking Alfred with him. The dragon-snakes began talking.

“You saw the dog,” said their king, continuing to speak human, even among themselves.

The three young people, accustomed to hearing the human language by now, never gave this odd occurrence a second thought.

“You know what the dog means,” the dragon-snake continued ominously.

“I don’t!” whispered Grundle loudly.

Devon squeezed her hand again. The dragon-snakes nodded their understanding.

“This will not do,” their king said. “This does not suit. We have been lax, the terror has subsided. We trusted that we had found the perfect tool in this Patryn. He has proven weak, flawed. And now we find him in company with a Sartan of immense power. A Serpent Mage, one whose life the Patryn held in his hands and yet did not take!”

Hisses of anger breathed through the darkness. The three young people exchanged puzzled glances. Each was beginning to notice a faint flutter in the stomach, a chill creeping over the body—the no-fear weed was wearing off, and they had not thought to bring more with them. They huddled near each other for comfort.

The king dragon-snake raised its head, twisted round to take in everyone in the cave. Everyone.

“And this war he proposes. Bloodless! Painless! He talks of ‘surrender’!” The serpent hissed the words in derision. “Chaos is our life’s blood. Death our meat and drink. No. Surrender is not what we had in mind. The Sartan grow more frightened every day. They now believe that they are alone in this vast universe they created. Their numbers are few, their enemies many and powerful.

“The Patryn did have one good suggestion, and I am indebted to him for it—flood their city with seawater. What subtle genius. The Sartan will watch the water rise. Their fear will change to panic. Their only hope—escape. They will be forced to do what they were strong enough to resist doing ages before. Samah will open Death’s Gate!”

“And what of the mensch?”

“We will trick them, turn friends into enemies. They’ll slaughter each other. We will feed off their pain and terror and grow strong. We will need our strength, to enter Death’s Gate.”

Alake was shivering. Devon put his arm around her, comfortingly. Grundle was crying, but she did so silently, her lips clamped tight. She wiped away a tear with a grimy, trembling hand.

“And the Patryn?” asked one. “Does he also die?”

“No, the Patryn will live. Remember: chaos is our goal. Once we pass through Death’s Gate, I will visit this self-styled Lord of the Nexus. I will endear myself to him by bringing him a present—this Haplo, a traitor to his own kind. A Patryn who befriends a Sartan.”

Fear grew on the three young people, invaded their bodies, an insidious disease. They burned and chilled, limbs shook, stomachs clenched with sickness. Alake tried to speak. Her facial muscles were stiff with fright, her lips quivered.

“We must . . . warn Haplo,” she managed to gasp.

The others nodded in agreement, neither being able to respond aloud. But they were too terrified to move, afraid the slightest sound would bring the dragon-snakes down upon them.

“I must go to Haplo,” Alake said faintly. She reached out her hands, grasped the cavern wall, and dragged herself to her feet. Her breath came in short, sharp pants. She started to try to leave.

But whatever light had shone them their way here was gone. A terrible smell, of living flesh rotting away, nearly made her gag. She seemed to hear, far away, a dismal wail, as of some huge creature, crying in agony. Alake walked ahead into the noisome shadows.

Devon started to follow, discovered he couldn’t free his hand from Grundle’s panicked, deathlike grip.

“Don’t!” she pleaded. “Don’t leave me.” The elf’s face was chalk white, his eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Our people, Grundle,” he whispered, swallowing. “Our people.”

The dwarf gulped, bit her lip. She let go—reluctantly—of his hand. Devon fled. Clambering to her feet, Grundle stumbled after.

“Are the mensch children leaving?” asked the king dragon-snake.

“Yes, Royal One,” answered one of his minions. “What is your command?”

“Kill them slowly, one at a time. Allow the last survivor to remain alive long enough to tell Haplo what they overheard.”

“Yes, Royal One.” The dragon-snake’s tongue flickered with pleasure.

“Oh,” added the king dragon-snake offhandedly, “make it appear as if it was the Sartan who murdered them. Then return the bodies to their parents. That should end all thought of a ‘bloodless war.’ ”