by Gary Gygax
"Well and good, stout friends." the burly Barrel said. "I still have the problem of being dead in the water, and the Azure Sea is no place to be becalmed in for long!"
The old cleric prayed and gave the crew his blessings against the black anger sent upon them by the forces of the netherworld. Then Pauncefot retired to his tiny cabin to meditate. "What now, cap'n?" Barrel asked. He was grim faced, for the sun was near the horizon. Soon it would vanish to the west, and then they would be pinned to the flat sea with the darkness surrounding them. "In the dark, our powers will wane, and those of evil grow — and not even a sliver of a moon to lend us strength."
Gord motioned for Barrel and Dohojar to come to his side, and then he addressed the full assemblage of crewmen. "We must hold moot now. I need your counsel. Unless a strong course of action can be determined, I will have to accept the abbot's advice."
"What do you mean, Zehaab?" Dohojar looked at his comrade with true puzzlement, for he had heard nothing from the priest that he could interpret as advice to Gord. "The man said nothing but the ugly things put into his head by demonshine!"
"Not quite, Dohojar, not quite. The enemy doesn't care a jot for the life of anyone aboard Silver Seeker but for me. That much of what the abbot said was pure truth. Somehow, those vile ones who seek me have managed to succeed. If I get away from the ship, then it... and all of you... will be safe."
"You have no proof of that, lad," Barrel said, neglecting for once to address Gord by his official title — an office conferred by Barrel, Dohojar, and the rest by vote during the time when they sailed aboard the Sovereign Sea Lion more than a year ago. Since then most of their original band had left for home or some personal quest, but the new members who had Joined were of like mind. Gord, once beggar-boy, then thief and swordsman, now buccaneer, was their leader. "I say we lower our boats and row us the hells out of this demon-made calm!"
The other crewmen had muttered among themselves while these exchanges were taking place. They were all anxious to strike back at their unseen tormentors in any fashion they could.
"We're all with you, captain," one of the newest of the lot called. He was an ordinary sailor but felt emboldened to speak because of the easy relationship on this ship between officers and men.
"I jined up when the old Lion lef fer southern waters, matey-boy," a leathery-visaged salt said to the first speaker. "You've jes' said what all o' us think!"
Gord took in that and more of the same kind of commentary from the rest of the men. Thanks, all of you," he said, "but I think I have to say a bit against myself. You just listen up a tad. Many of you have been a part of our band for as long as we've been one. We've sailed to the savage coasts together, been to exotic ports, fought pirates and sea monsters, and done a bit of privateering ourselves in the process." There were nods and murmurs at that, and several of the men grinned as they patted a girdle or fingered a gem-set earring or golden bracelet taken as their share of booty. The young adventurer allowed them their moment to recall that, then went on. "And during that time you'll recall I managed to call most of the decisions right, aye?"
"Aye, that you did, cap'n," Barrel said, speaking for all of the men.
"Well, we're in a pickle now, my lads; it's a devilish tight place, too. If the priest isn't actually one of us, Abbot Pauncefot is a good man and true nonetheless. He said that I was the target of the attacks, and I vow by the green beard of Brocam he was dead accurate!"
"There is no way we can sacrifice you, Gord Ze-haab, to save ourselves," the Changa said loudly.
Gord looked absolutely astounded at that. "Sacrifice? Who the hells mentioned that? I'm not ready for Brocam's Briny Bier or any other grave quite yet, mate!"
There was nervous laughter at that, and Dohojar was embarrassed. "But you said..."
"I said that I'd get you and Seeker off the demons' hook if I could. That doesn't mean I'm consigning myself to drowning or anything like it. Most of you know that I have fought against lesser sorts of demons and others who serve evil. Just as you know that once I was a city-bred thief. Somehow I seem to be singled out, not to say cursed, to forever get in the way of the great forces that contend for mastery of our world. Like you, I would be content to fight a little, frolic more, and seek excitement where I may."
Because there were comments of ribald sort at that, Gord allowed a momentary pause before he spoke further, but time was short, and he had to press ahead rapidly. "Listen well now, lads! In my dreams of late I keep hearing a call. It has come to me more and more frequently these past few weeks. I have ignored the omen so far, thinking it imaginary and meaningless, but now I rue that choice, for it has put you all at peril."
The young man allowed that to sink in a moment. "I am indeed being called elsewhere," he continued. "The foes of the evil ones who hunt for my soul are in need of me. Had I heeded their summons sooner, then you would all be in Safeton's snug harbor now, drinking and wenching. The priest spoke naught but fact when he said I was the target of the demonkin who plague Silver Seeker now. Somehow they have found me and now use their fell sendings to try to destroy me."
"If that be the case, Gord, then I'll join ye in the fight," Barrel said firmly.
Dohojar nodded agreement. "I too am by your side, Zehaab!"
Before there was a general rush of that sort of thing, Gord raised his hand. "Hold! Avast! Then we'd be back where we are now. I am here to tell you that I will have to leave you — all of you. Seeker needs you all to survive the side effects of whatever dark things have been sent for me. My departure will draw off some of the ill, but much might still find its way to you!"
"Will you stride across the waters of the sea? Or have you wings?" That sarcastic query came from one named Reppon, first mate of the ship and a doughty sea-warrior who had seen much of the world in his travels.
"Neither," Gord replied with a laugh. "But I have certain friends, shall we say — beasts of the ocean. I think it likely that I can call upon them to carry me safely hence to wherever it is I must go — and that destination will be known to them."
The rim of the sun was Just touching the watery horizon when the moot finally ended. What decided it all so quickly was not entirely Gord's decision. An immense wall of black clouds was suddenly visible to the north — great, anvil-headed clouds that shot upward in contorted forms, nightmare shapes with writhing bodies and leering, fearsome faces. Dark layers overtopped even these mighty clouds, and bright lightnings made the looming wall flicker and flash eerily. It was Barrel who concluded the assembly then and there. "That there's a hellstorm, boys!" he announced. "If the cap'n can leave and take it from us, we just might live to tell of it!"
Dohojar dithered and fretted as Gord began a ritual to summon the "friends" he had referred to. "I am willing to help you with this calling, Zehaab," the dark-skinned man pleaded. "How can you refuse?"
But the young adventurer would not relent. He was confident that he could manage. "My friend," he finally said to the Changa, "even though you are a mage, you aren't acceptable to the ones who might agree to bear me from this place. Now go away so I can finish!" Dohojar slunk off, and Gord completed his ritual. The words he uttered and the gestures he made were the parts of a cat-summoning dweomer that had been taught to him by Rexfelis the Catlord. His dreams, he thought, were messages sent by Rexfelis, so perhaps the Catlord would supply the means of transportation. After all, he reasoned, weren't the great sea lions faithful subjects of Rexfelis? That remained to be seen. He waited a few minutes but got no results, so he began the ritual again, performing it more carefully this time.
A gurgling and a growl made Gord start. He had been so wrapped up in repeating the charm properly that he hadn't seen the darker shape rise in the darkening gray of the sea's depths. The lionlike head that suddenly broke the surface was huge — thrice the size of a true lion's — and of a greenish tinge.
"Who braves the calling of Leoceanius?" The challenge came in a roar, sounding like the rush and retreat of a huge breaker.<
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"Gord, associate of Rexfelis and friend of all cats, summons one who is vassal to the Lord of Felines."
Before the young man could say or do anything more, the monstrous sea cat rose up and grabbed him with its gigantic forepaws. "About bloody time, too," the creature growled, as it bore Gord from the ship's deck off into the leaden-hued waters. "Get on my back and hold fast to my mane, or I'll not be held accountable for your fate," said Leoceanius gruffly. There was no chance to protest. Floundering, Gord managed to do as the sea lion demanded, grasping and holding fast for dear life, for even as he spoke the creature was swimming off at a speed unimaginable to a man.
"What of my belongings, O Master Lion of the Seas?"
The sea lion gave a coughing roar, its version of a laugh. "You have much of power with you, man. I read clearly in your own mind that what is behind on that wooden float is naught of importance to you. Even were it otherwise, there would be no help for it. Ere you could get your possessions, the black sending would strike."
They were slicing through the calm waters at an angle that took them eastward and slightly away from the oncoming mountains of cloud. The Silver Seeker was already little bigger than a dot behind them. What the creature said was true. All of his possessions that Gord considered truly valuable were with him. He wore his short sword and his dagger, his cat's-eye ring and his amulet of protection, plus a few other cherished things safely contained in a dweomered coffer no bigger than a thimble.
"Go to it, Leoceanlus! Let's see a real turn of speed!" Gord cried with a laugh to match that of the sea lion. Let his companions aboard the ship keep the gold and gems he had left there. So too the good shirt of elfin chain mail that was in his sea chest, and the extra blade he had hidden beneath a false floorboard in his quarters — a longsword of dark metal that he had brought back from the city deep beneath the Ashen Desert. Those things he truly regretted leaving, but perhaps they would save another one's life one day. The mail shirt would fit Dohojar, although the Changa would have to forsake his spellworking while he had it on. And both Dohojar and Barrel knew of the sword and where it was concealed, so Gord was sure it would eventually be brought out and put to good use by someone. At any rate, there was no point in worrying about those things any more. "And where do we go?" Gord asked the lion.
"Well away from that," the great water-creature roared, giving its mighty head a shake to indicate the advancing tempest. "Only I do not think I can go fast enough."
That gave Gord pause. He turned slightly to eye the wall of ebon clouds and saw that indeed the storm was coming down upon them at tremendous speed. The dark, lightning-shot center of the tempest had altered its course too. The whole front was now bearing toward them, going eastward just as they did. The fading sunlight was now so dim that he could see nothing more, but Gord imagined that Silver Seeker was now well away from the worst of the storm, for the leading gusts of wind would be more than enough for the ship to begin beating westward.
"What makes the roiling?" the young adventurer managed to shout above the rising wind. He had seen the splashing of something off to their right and slightly ahead.
"My fellows," Leoceanius roared so as to be heard. "They converge to escort us to safety. A bad sign, for it means some worse foe than the storm draws near!"
In minutes the now-dark waters were made lighter by the foam and froth of a score of great sea lions cleaving the rising waves. They offered greetings to Leoceanius as their liege, the master of all their kind. It surprised Gord, however, to be saluted as well by these creatures — and especially because they hailed him as prince. Leoceanius surged to his right, bearing the young adventurer directly away from the evil cloud-wall that was rolling down upon them at terrible speed. "What news?" the sea lion roared to his followers.
"It is the sea hag, Udyll, who has raised the tempest," came the faint reply. Although the wind tore away at even the great bass voice of the sea cat, Gord could discern the speech well enough to hear the fear in the creature's voice. The hag hunts for the man you bear even now — she and her pack of sharks!"
Leoceanius shook his great mane. "Even as fast as I can go, the hag's tempest closes upon us. It will strike soon, and at its edge will be her death-fish. Burdened as I am, Gord, we are no match for sharks and hag."
"I have my sword!" Gord grabbed the hilt of the short blade buckled around his waist as he shrieked into the howling gale that now battered them and broke the tops of the ever-heightening waves of the Azure Sea into horizontal sheets of spray that stung like blizzard-whipped sleet.
"Save your breath!" came the sea cat's roar. "I go deep for safety!"
"What?" Gord couldn't believe his ears. The monstrous sea cat roared something about an undine's grotto, and then dived. There was no choice now. Gord held onto the deep green mane and concentrated on breath control. How deep they plunged into the salty waters of the Azure Sea, how fast they were descending, he had no idea. But the time seemed an eternity, since he did not have a chance to take a deep breath before they went under.
As part of his normal regimen of exercise, Gord practiced various breathing techniques, including the talent of holding his breath. In dangerous circumstances, even so slight a thing as a whispered exhalation could give a thief away. If he had a chance to prepare for it, Gord could maintain activity and not intake a breath of air for more than two minutes. But now his lungs felt as if they were bursting. Gord expelled some of the air from them in tiny spurts. That helped the burning in his chest only a little, and it made him conscious of the pain of pressure in his ears.
A blackness more impenetrable than the dark of the storm-ridden sea was closing over the young adventurer when he felt a change of motion. Leoceanius was no longer sounding but swimming laterally. Gord could feel the touch of thick strands of kelp striking him as the sea lion whipped through what must have been a veritable forest of the growth. Then he had to let out the last of his air, and seconds later the overwhelming dark conquered Gord and he remembered no more.
***
Those drowned ones who I have seen before were not so handsome as he."
Hearing that startled Gord into full wakefulness. His eyes saw a watery cave softly illuminated by a radiance that seemed to play between rose pink and the rich vert of a prize tourmaline. The walls were of stone, but coral branches of a reddish hue shot from them, and the sea plants that grew in profusion seemed to have been artfully arranged within the grotto so as to divide its space into private little nooks. Then he saw the undine.
Her skin was quicksilver and her waist-length tresses the color of rich emeralds. The coral that graced the undersea cave was shamed by the brightness of the undine's full lips. As green as her hair were her long nails, but the sea nymph's perfect breasts were tipped with the hot color of coral to match her mouth. Gord stared in wonderment at the creature, and finally his gray eyes met the green and gold orbs of the undine. At that she smiled, and Gord saw her mouth was filled with pearly little teeth as sharp as those of a barracuda. This anomaly shocked him, and he tore his eyes from her.
The undine laughed, a sound most strange in this watery place; yet Gord heard it plainly, as well as her voice saying, "Welcome to my home, hero. Will you linger here with me a spell?"
"No!" The reply came not from Gord, for the young adventurer was ready to agree. Leoceanius suddenly appeared beside him, and Gord became aware that the whole pride of sea cats was there in the grotto. The place was deceptively large, or else enchanted in some fashion. "We all, this man included, request sanctuary, Kharistylla. We will have no need to linger beyond the prescribed period for such."
"Request? Prescribed? My, my, Leoceanius, how formal your demand," the undine replied with a hint of mockery in her sweet contralto. "Yet I have no quarrel with Udyll. Why should I heed you?"
"Your power weaves a net of concealment about us now, undine," the huge sea cat rumbled. "You have already helped us, as I suspected you would graciously do, and thus cast your lot. But if she discov
ers what you have done, you know the hag would deal with the likes of you no more gently than with me... or this human who is her current prey."
The undine smiled, again showing her sharp teeth. Gord didn't find them quite so disturbing this time. "Agreed, great sea cat. I grant you sanctuary. Still," she said with a lingering appraisal of Gord, "I see no reason not to... detain... this man you carried here beyond the time the rest of you decide to leave."
"He is a champion of Balance," the monstrous sea lion rumbled. "Not even you would dare to disturb that!"
Kharistylla undulated closer, rested her hands on Gord's hips, and lightly caressed the thimble-sized container she found fastened to the right side of his belt. She smiled to herself, took Gord's hand, and spread it so as to reveal his palm. He noticed that her fingers were webbed, connected by a nearly transparent membrane. After the undine had studied it for a bit, she released his hand and stared into the young adventurer's eyes. That made his head reel, and Gord uttered an involuntary gasp, slamming the door on his thoughts at the invasion he sensed.
"Quick — quick and strongly barred, Gord. But not so fast that I didn't see," the undine said with a small smile. "You are Indeed what the sea cat claims, yet you are not entirely informed or willing. Come, then. Balance has others to spend their lives on behalf of its cause. You and I are much alike, and we both give due homage to the middle way. Be my champion and dwell here in Kharistylla's domain for a time."
Her voice was sweet and laden with promise. Gord's own voice was filled with regret as he replied. "If that were my rede, gracious lady, I would gladly tarry here with you for as long as it pleased you. It has ever been my fate, though, to be driven by storm and tempest to some strand that is not of my own choosing. Soon I must leave this element, somehow, to return to the world of air and earth. The ones who call me cannot be denied, but when I am done perhaps we can..."
