The dragon isles, p.23
The Dragon Isles, page 23
Mik smiled roguishly. “I need to save some surprises for later, don’t I?”
Mik, Jerick, and Kell took sightings on the War Hound once more, and both ships set sail for the Isle of Fire.
By morning it was pouring again. Jerick eyed the western horizon, worrying that the storm might build to gale force once more. Mik and Ula wondered if the burgeoning clouds hid the Order’s dragonish spies.
The rain didn’t dampen Trip’s spirits—though it did increase the stench of his sea serpent cloak. Everyone except his friends avoided him, but Trip was having too much fun to notice. He frequently consulted his treasure finder. The only time it spun, though, was when it came too close to Ula, who had reattached the jeweled key to her clothing, or Jerick’s money purse.
Lord Kell kept careful watch on the crew of the Red Wake and on his own galley, trailing close behind them.
Karista Meinor stayed close to Lord Kell, speaking to him in hushed tones and frequently looping her arm around his. Mik thought that even without the treasure, she had a pretty fair chance of landing her trade deal.
Ula kept watch on Kell and his ship, and scanned the storm-tossed skies for signs of Tanalish or other dragons. The sea elf seemed edgy and full of energy. “I hate waiting,” she told Mik. “I’d rather fight my way to a treasure than hang around a ship.”
Mik nodded. “You may soon get your wish.”
For a day and a half they traveled east. They’d passed beyond all sight of land now, though they were still within the protective influence of the Veil.
“Look at the storm,” Jerick said, pointing east to a towering bank of thunderheads. “That’s where the Veil ends.”
Mik squinted into the black clouds. “I see the island,” he said. “It’s almost the same color as the clouds.” He pointed, and Jerick followed with his eyes.
“Aye,” he said, a faint smile cracking his red beard. “Can’t say I like the look of the place.”
“You’ll like the look of its treasure, though,” Mik replied.
“Aye.”
By mid-afternoon they’d drawn close to the island’s rocky shores. The Isle of Fire was a volcanic peak jutting nearly straight up out of the surging sea. Its almost sheer sides were black, craggy, and unforgiving. Only at the very bottom did a few sparse copses of vegetation cling to its meager shore. The eastern side of the mountain had fallen away, leaving a large V-shaped gully in the side of the escarpment. A faint red glow emanated from within the crack, making the island look as though it peered toward the sunrise with an eerie red eye. Within the volcano, the immense fires that had helped forge the the Veil still burned bright.
“Where is this supposed lost temple?” Kell asked skeptically.
“It’s hidden,” Mik replied. “It’s been hidden for centuries.”
“If it wasn’t,” Ula said, “someone would have taken the treasure long ago.”
“The water is very deep here,” Jerick said. “More than fifty fathoms. Are you sure diving is the right way to proceed?”
“The final hallowed key, Illumes the deepest night, At lord of fire and sea, Seek pillars’ sacred might,” said Karista.
“The Prophecy, and the visions I’ve had, make me think we’re looking for a temple under the sea,” Mik said.
“Sacred pillars in the deep,” Trip added smartly.
Jerick rubbed one callused hand across his balding red pate. “Well, it’s your necks,” he said. “I’ll set anchor and keep an eye on things.” He shouted for his men to do so, and both his and Kell’s ship anchored well clear of the island’s dangerous shores.
“I’ll summon my divers,” Kell said. He moved to the rail and whistled a signal to his brass-armored ship. A dozen warriors appeared in shell-like helmets and diving gear.
“Oh, no,” Mik said. “You’re not going to outnumber us down there. Pick just three other divers besides yourself, Lord Kell.”
Kell gazed into Mik’s brown eyes; Mik didn’t blink.
“Very well,” Kell said slowly. “Will you be coming, milady?”
Karista Meinor nodded. “If you will loan me a helmet,” she said. “I’ve not been able to replenish my supply of magical seaweed.”
“And it tasted terrible anyway,” Trip put in.
“Are you up for it, Shim?” Ula asked.
The bronze knight stood and slowly stretched. He’d removed his bandages, but his shoulder didn’t seem quite healed.
Mik worried about the dragon-man’s usefulness in a fight, but said only, “Everyone, prepare yourselves. We’ll meet at the rail in twenty minutes.”
Kell nodded and signaled for a longboat to ferry his equipment and two divers over to Red Wake.
Mik put on his enchanted fish necklace. He hadn’t worn it since they’d left Aurialastican. His fingers traced the empty pockmarks where there had once been jeweled scales. The magic felt weak and tentative. He hoped it would be enough to complete at least one final task.
“You’re sure this cloak of yours works, Trip?” he asked.
“Better than your feeble old necklace,” the kender replied, pulling the serpent skin tight around his small body. “I’ll swim circles around the rest of you.”
Kell, Karista, and two brass-garbed warriors joined them at the rail. They all wore uncomfortable-looking brass helmets in the shape of sea huge seashells with clear quartz faceplates. The strange helmets complimented the design of the warriors’ sparse brass armor. Karista just wore the helmet and a brief swimming outfit, but looked uncomfortable, nonetheless.
“Very nice,” Ula said. “Can you actually hear or speak in those things?”
“Well enough,” Kell replied, his voice sounding metallic and distant. “Thrakdar himself helped forge them; their magic is strong. Do not worry on our account.”
Mik nodded. “Then down, down to the briny deep, where sharks hold court and sailors sleep,” he said, reciting an old diver’s saying.
He was the first to step to the rail and plunge over the side.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Into the Deep
Mog watched as a large contingent of surface creatures dropped down into his domain.
First came the young ship captain, followed by the kender, then the sea elf, a bronze knight and a brass one. Then these were followed by a helmeted woman and two more brass-garbed swimmers.
The dragonspawn hid himself behind the keel of the galleon, lest they detect his presence. A tingling in his spine told him that other agents of Tempest lurked nearby. Soon, he would have need of them. Soon they would wrest the treasure from these pale, fleshy creatures and open the Veil for their mistress.
Then Glorious Tempest would invade the Dragon Isles, and Mog and his kin would feast on the flesh of humans and elves.
As the divers moved away from the ship and sank into the deep, Mog left his hiding place and followed—cautious to remain out of sight.
Mik led the treasure hunters into the depths. The sea water quickly faded from clear as glass, to blue, indigo, and then black. Mik and Trip’s magic-assisted eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom. The water-born senses of Ula and Shimmer needed no such aid.
Nor did the fish living in the dark waters. Many sported huge eyes to navigate and find their prey. Others had grown their own lights, for purposes of mating or communication. The black waters twinkled with their presence—a starry sky within the ocean deep. A barrelmouth shark swept past; it looked fierce, with jaws wide enough to swallow a man, but Mik knew it was harmless. Barrelmouths had no teeth and fed only on tiny shrimp.
Without warning, light burst around them. Mik blinked and whirled, his scimitar in his hand. It was only Kell and his warriors, though. Small gems set atop their brass helmets shone with bright white light.
“Put those bloody things out!” Ula hissed. “Do you want everything down here to know we’re coming?”
“Dim them,” Mik added. “There isn’t anything to see here anyway. What we want is on the bottom—the deepest night—and that’s still a long way down.”
Kell ordered his warriors to turn off their lights and did the same himself. They left Karista’s light on but dimmed it to a dull red glow. The aristocrat sweated uncomfortably within her metal helmet, even though the artifact’s powerful magic protected her from the cold and pressure of the deep.
Several times, the brass warriors spun to face something flashing through the water, only to discover it was merely Trip in his sea serpent cloak. The kender swam rings around the rest of them, like a playful dolphin.
“I’ll admit,” Ula whispered to Mik, “that cloak is impressive.”
They snaked down ever farther into the deep. The blackness closed in around them as the luminous sea life grew progressively less numerous.
“Is anyone else cold?” Karista asked, her teeth chattering. “I feel strangely cold.”
One of Kell’s warriors took a moment to adjust the position of a dial which controlled the spell on the aristocrat’s helmet. “Thank you,” Karista said. “That’s much better.”
Mog knew his time had almost come. The small Turbidus leech attached to his spine wriggled and burned as the dragonspawn sent out his telepathic call.
The message summoned Tempest’s other minions lurking inside the Veil. They came swiftly—sharks, razorfish, and other evil fish—all trailing the tiny Turbidus leeches with which Tempest poisoned and controlled their minds. Mog felt them connected to him as he was connected to her.
When the mistress came, she would release thousands of her beloved Turbidus leeches. They would swarm the tepid waters of the Dragon Isles and make the denizens of the islands their own. Legions of creatures would join her blackhearted troops: humans, elves, minotaurs. Some had fallen already; soon all would be hers.
Mog reveled in the presence of his allies. He pictured them swarming through the seas, following him to battle. He imagined the blood of their enemies staining the seas red. He relished the hot, salty taste of his victims’ vital fluids.
He longed for this pleasure. Perhaps it was not too soon to sample it. Slowly he drew closer to his prey, looking for a straggler—a weakling who could slake his thirst Acid saliva ran across his fangs and made his black tongue tingle.
He chose a victim and waited for the moment to pounce.
“I see the bottom!” Trip called back to the others. He swung low over the seabed before arcing back up to his friends. “There’s a huge canyon—but I don’t see any sign of a temple.”
“Perhaps the temple is within the canyon,” Kell suggested.
Trip held his kender treasure finder out before him. He moved it back and forth over the course they might take. As it passed the canyon, the necklace began to spin wildly.
“Something’s down there, all right,” Trip said.
“Are we going to trust that dubious magical device?” Karista Meinor asked.
“I see no other course,” Kell replied.
Trip beamed. “I’ll scout ahead.”
“Stay out of trouble,” Mik said.
The kender nodded and sped down into the canyon.
“You and your people go first, Vardan,” Kell said. “We’ll turn up our lights and follow behind so as not to obscure your vision.”
Mik nodded, and he and Ula darted ahead with Shimmer just behind. The bronze knight swam more slowly and less gracefully than he had before his wounding by Tanalish. Kell came next with Karista at his side. The two brass warriors brought up the rear.
The walls of the undersea canyon sprang up around them—towering cliffs disappearing into the indigo waters both above and below. Fissures pockmarked the sides of the defile. Some of these bubbled with hot water and brackish clouds that looked like black smoke.
Strange undersea creatures swam past them as they ventured into the deep canyon: white, eyeless shrimp as big as a man’s hand; long, luminous eels whose guts they could see inside the fishes’ transparent bodies; hideous sharptoothed fish that seemed all head and eyes and no body; a slender octopus that flashed with the colors of the rainbow, and tiny clouds of orange-white krill. A redtip shark dipped down from above, but darted away when Kell’s people turned their lights on it.
Trip reported back at regular intervals, though his findings consisted mainly of, “More canyon. I’m sure we’re going the right way, though.”
Gradually, the canyon ceiling began to close over them. Black, jagged coral sprang from the pockmarked walls and knitted together like huge knotted brambles. Long, pale seaweed intertwined with it, forming an impassible wall of spikes and tangled netting.
Karista glanced around nervously. “Much farther and we shall find ourselves trapped.”
“We can always return the way we came,” Mik replied.
As they swam cautiously forward, the bottom of the canyon loomed into view. It, too, was covered with the strange thorny coral and pale weeds. As the canyon closed in around them, they felt as though they were swimming down the gullet of some thorny aquatic beast.
They passed huge, carved columns, each as large as Kell’s galley, lying broken among the weeds and spikes. They also saw the skeletons of ancient ships poking out amid the wreckage.
Ahead, the living tunnel opened up into the vast, dark sea once more. Beyond the opening loomed a pale shape of towering pillars, curving walls, and domes.
“The undersea Temple!” Mik crowed.
They swam ahead heedlessly as the canyon walls closed in around them. Soon, the divers were passing through a narrow tunnel of pale weeds and sharp black coral.
Something blocked their way. It was ethereal, cloudlike, and huge. The pallid form obscured the shapes of the temple behind it, while not blotting out the architecture entirely.
“A jellyfish?” Trip asked.
Ula shook her head. “It’s not one creature,” she said, focusing her keen elven eyes on the thing. “It’s many.”
“Crabs!” Shimanloreth said.
Tiny albino crustaceans swarmed over them, pinching and biting. The creatures were only the size of a child’s ear, but had oversized serrated pincers on their eight limbs, and wicked beaklike mouths. The four eyes atop the stalks on their thorny heads glowed with an eerie green light. The movement of the school made an unnerving clattering sound, like knives running across old bones. The crabs paddled swiftly with their oarlike legs, surrounding the divers like a school of piranha. They wheedled their way under clothes and between cracks in armor. The treasure hunters swatted at them, but there were just too many.
“Fall back!” Kell cried. “Split up! They can’t follow us all.”
“No!” Mik countered. “Stay together! Work together!” He and Ula swam back to back, protecting each other. Shimmer went with them, but the cloud of crabs forced him apart from the others.
Kell and his warriors quickly vanished back into the darkness, their cries of frustration and pain drifting through the deep.
Trip had disappeared entirely.
Mog’s chosen target struggled amid the tiny, swarming creatures and the tangled weeds.
With sharklike speed, the dragonspawn shot forward, claws extended. His talons bit through flesh, filling the water with tasty blood. He grabbed his prey and dragged the squirming, bleeding victim into the weeds to feast.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Final Key
Mik and Ula whirled in a frenzy, fighting back-to-back, swinging their weapons and waving their hands, trying to ward off the thousands of miniscule predators. The tiny crustaceans kept coming.
“I’ve heard of the death of a thousand cuts,” Mik said, “but I didn’t think it was administered by crabs.”
“Where’s Shimmer?” Ula asked. “We need Shimmer!”
Mik looked around, but the entangling weeds and the swarm of crabs obscured his vision. “I don’t see him,” he said. “Let’s fight our way to the temple. The tunnel opens up ahead.”
“Right! Ouch!”
“A crab get you?”
“No. I stabbed my leg on this gods-forsaken coral.”
They swam toward the glow from the temple, struggling to avoid the weeds and the razor-sharp coral. Against the swarming, nipping crabs, they made slow progress.
Just as they seemed about to break through, the water around them went dark. A swirling black cloud surrounded them. Horrible shapes lurked in the cloud—things Mik had only glimpsed in the darkest corners of his mind: swarming scavenger eels; black horsemen riding across the desert with scimitars raised high; the mangled, decaying body of old Poul.
Mik tried to swim away, but the nightmares surrounded him. Something grabbed his wrist in the dark. A voice boomed, “Mik!”
He tried to pull away, but the thing’s webbed fingers gripped him like iron. He slashed down with his sword, trying to cut the arm off. “Hey! Watch it!” the voice thundered.
A blue fist flashed out of the darkness and clouted him on the jaw.
Stars flashed before his eyes, and then both the horrible visions and the black cloud vanished. Ula Drakenvaal held Mik’s wrist tightly in her blue fingers.
“It was Shimmer,” she said, shaking him lightly. “He drove the crabs away.” She pointed to an ethereal white cloud of crustaceans receding into the distance.
Mik nodded, remembering what Shimmer had done to Lord Kell’s crew on the deck of Red Wake. Now he knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end. Shimmer hovered nearby, rubbing his left shoulder.
“Where are the others?” Mik asked.
Shimmer peered into the darkness up the canyon. “They’re coming,” he said. “All but the kender.”
A cold hand gripped Mik’s heart. “Trip!” he called. “Where are you?”
“Here I am!” the kender’s happy voice replied. He zipped back into view from beyond the weedy tunnel. “I tried to get the crabs to follow me, but it didn’t work. Sorry.”
“No apologies necessary,” Mik said.
Kell and his warriors returned. Karista Meinor looked very frightened, and her diving briefs hung in tatters, but she didn’t seem much the worse for wear. The brass lord brushed pieces of crab from his armor. Kell’s two warriors trailed behind, tending to their armor and numerous small cuts. The woman looked badly shaken, and the man was very pale.
