The History of Krynn: Vol IV

by Dragon Lance

  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.”

  Chapter 5

  PROTECTOR OF URIONE

  No one spoke for several long seconds. The Qualinesti remained standing on the ramp, shivering in calf-deep water. None of the richly dressed strangers smiled or spoke. Clad as she was in only her sodden smallclothes, Vixa found their expre
ssionless stares most unnerving.

  “We had n-no idea you or your city existed,” the princess finally stammered through chattering teeth. “It’s lucky for us you found us.”

  At that, Coryphene smiled. “Has the landed race so soon forgotten their brothers, the Dargonesti?”

  Dargonesti. Here was a race thought extinct for more than a thousand years. As Vixa, Armantaro, and the two warriors exchanged silent glances of wonder, one of the sea elf soldiers held out Vixa’s confiscated sword to Coryphene. He examined it closely, testing the heft and workmanship. Turning to Armantaro, Coryphene asked, “Who are you?”

  The colonel, evidently taken for the leader because of his age, introduced everyone. He carefully omitted Vixa’s title. No sense stirring up ideas of ransom.

  “Your wife?” Coryphene inquired.

  “My … niece.” Armantaro smoothed the wet hair from his face and forced his shivering body to stand more erect. “There was another elf with us, named Esquelamar. Do you know if he was saved as well?”

  Coryphene made a dismissive gesture. “My heralds told me of only your arrival.” One of the Dargonesti leaned closer and spoke softly to Coryphene. He nodded once, then said, “It is possible your companion was brought in through another portal.”

  As he said this, a powerful gray dolphin burst from the water onto the quay. The Qualinesti flinched from this sudden intrusion. The creature landed in front of Coryphene. Its wide flukes flailed, splashing everyone on the dock.

  “Is this how you present yourself, Naxos?” Coryphene’s tone was as chilly as the water.

  The dolphin uttered a shrill whistle. Its back arched, and a violent shudder ran through its muscular body. The Qualinesti stared in stunned amazement as two sinewy arms appeared from the animal’s sides, arms as gray as the dolphin’s flesh. With a sharp sucking sound, the tail split down its length, becoming a pair of long gray legs. The snout shrank to a rather prominent nose. In less than twenty heartbeats, the dolphin had transformed into a lean, hard-muscled elf with short, greenish blue hair. His gray coloring faded, first from his extremities, and the usual blue skin tone of the Dargonesti washed over him.

  The transformed elf knelt before Coryphene, his body glistening with seawater. “Forgive me, Excellence,” he murmured, though his expression was more amused than contrite.

  “Is everything in order?”

  “Ma’el is put to bed, Excellence.” The elf called Naxos glanced at the Qualinesti shivering on the quay.

  “Was another drylander found, Naxos?” Coryphene asked.

  “A fifth was discovered, Excellence. He had drowned.”

  Vixa and Armantaro exchanged an unhappy look. Coryphene gestured at the two of them, saying, “You shall remain. Naxos, have the other two taken to the grotto.”

  More dolphins appeared in the pool, blowing and whistling. Armantaro had to shout to be heard. “Your Excellency! These are my retainers. I wish to keep them with me.”

  “You have no need of retainers here. Come.”

  The newly arrived dolphins began transforming just as Naxos had. Vixa watched in rapt wonder as, one by one, they became tall, yellow-eyed Dargonesti elves.

  Armantaro, thinking it unwise to annoy their host, tugged at her elbow. He spoke briefly to Harmanutis and Vanthanoris, and the warriors reluctantly allowed themselves to be separated from their commander.

  Vixa and Armantaro followed Coryphene. The entourage stood aside to let the Qualinesti pass. Up close, Vixa saw that these sea elves were more than mere officials or courtiers. Under their mauve cloaks they wore breastplates of green tortoise-shell. Short scabbards hung from their belts. Vixa thought longingly of her own treasured sword and took hold of Armantaro’s arm.

  “Why do I feel less rescued than captured?” she whispered.

  He gave her an encouraging smile, but couldn’t hide the worry in his own eyes.

  Coryphene had donned a tall headdress made with dangling shells and gemstones. His guard closed in behind them. A wide stone staircase led upward through the pale pink ceiling of this level, emerging in a busy street. Hundreds of Dargonesti bustled about in what appeared to be a marketplace. Fish of a dozen varieties lay piled in gigantic seashells or baskets of woven seaweed. Vendors trundled two-wheeled barrows back and forth. The air was heavy with damp and the smell of the sea.

  Everyone made way for Coryphene. The common folk, who wore gray leather vests over knee-length green or yellow kilts, bowed deeply as he passed. Striding through the respectful crowd, Coryphene looked neither left nor right. His escort was similarly sober. Once the Dargonesti lord had passed by, the sea elves turned their gazes upon Vixa and Armantaro. The looks the two received were less friendly.

  “No one seems happy to see us,” Vixa remarked softly.

  “No, they don’t. We’d get a warmer greeting in Silvanost, I’ll wager.”

  “Speaking of warm —” Vixa tugged at her skimpy clothing.

  Armantaro frowned. He lengthened his stride.

  “Your Excellence,” he said, catching up to the Dargonesti lord. “My niece is cold. Could we borrow a cloak for her?”

  Coryphene glanced back at Vixa, shrugged, and gestured to a passerby. In moments, Vixa was wrapped in a blue cloak made of some surprisingly soft material. Warmer now, the Qualinesti princess looked about her with more interest.

  Another vaulted ceiling topped this market, with many light globes strung about. In some places, on pillars or bare stretches of wall, stone spouts protruded. Formed to resemble sea horses or squid, these spouts poured forth streams of water into stone basins. They seemed too numerous to be drinking fountains. The mystery was solved when Vixa saw a Dargonesti set aside the basket of fish he carried and duck his head into one of the streams. It was then she realized that below each ear, on the sides of his neck, the sea elf had a semicircle of lacy gill. She commented on this to Armantaro.

  “I see,” he said, nodding. “They seem to breathe both water and air. Perhaps they must keep their gills wet when not in the water.”

  As they neared the far edge of the market, Coryphene stopped. An elaborate open sedan chair, borne by four helmeted elves, arrived. The bearers lowered the chair to the floor, and Coryphene stepped in.

  Vixa looked around for another conveyance. None appeared. “Looks as if we walk,” she said with a sigh. Her feet, bare and damp, felt like twin ice blocks. None of the Dargonesti were shod, so she’d probably have trouble securing new boots here.

  At a shout, the bearers hoisted Coryphene’s chair to their shoulders. The Dargonesti formed a line on each side. He clapped his hands, and the bearers were off at a trot. The Qualinesti were obliged to jog just to keep up.

  The Dargonesti guards drew swords and held them up as they ran. The lead soldier, ahead of Coryphene’s chair, began to chant in a very deep voice. The guards echoed his words. To Vixa it sounded like nonsensical singsong.

  “Look at their swords,” Armantaro puffed.

  Coryphene’s escort was armed with an assortment of edged weapons – Ergothian sabers, dwarven short swords, sailors’ cutlasses. It was clear that these were salvaged pieces, probably from shipwrecks. Why would this elite guard be armed with such a random mix of blades?

  A lustrous marble path wound tightly around an enormous pink granite pillar, most likely the central support of the city’s outer shell. The grade was rather steep, but the long-legged sea elves maintained their exhausting pace with no sign of discomfort.

  As they trotted around the broad sweep of the ramp, Vixa looked up. The central shaft reached all the way to the city’s apex. She swallowed hard and looked away from the sheer, dizzying height of it.

  Round and round they went, passing every level in Urione. Some levels were air-filled and contained houses and shops. Others, walled off from the spiral ramp by panes of quartz, were open to the ocean. Dolphins coursed through the passages – or perhaps they were Dargonesti in dolphin form, for these animals wore necklaces of shells and gems. On other floode
d levels were gardens of waving sea plants, schools of trout and tuna that surged from wall to wall with the restless energy of the wild sea, and pens teeming with crabs.

  They passed a level with especially high ceilings. Roads, inlaid with alternating bands of black basalt and mother-of-pearl, radiated from the central ramp to a complex of wedge-shaped temples constructed in the finest style. Elaborate, brightly colored bas-reliefs on the buildings displayed a variety of sea life – octopi, starfish, sea horses, and fish of every shape and hue. An odd odor, similar to the sweet incense used in Qualinesti temples, yet strangely different, permeated this level of the city, leaving a sickening aftertaste. Then, as Coryphene’s sedan chair swung around the ramp ahead of them, Vixa and Armantaro beheld a sight that froze the blood in their veins.

  In a plaza between two brilliant temples stood an enormous statue, easily thirty feet wide and about half as high. It portrayed a creature shaped like an upside down bowl, with myriad tentacles hanging from its underside. A vast mouth opened on the side of the thing, and two onyx eyes were buried in the dull white flesh above the mouth. This was horrible enough, but scattered across the broad back of the monster were tiny carved models of ships. They listed this way and that, their sails slack and useless. Stranded ships, just like Evenstar.

  “Ma’el is put to bed,” the shapeshifter Naxos had said to Coryphene. And what had Captain Esquelamar told them when they were first trapped inside the sea monster? He’d spoken of the kraken, a creature so huge it could drag down a ship entwined in its tentacles.

  Their pace faltered. Lines of Dargonesti warriors surged past.

  In front of the grotesque statue was an altar of white coral. Several Dargonesti, clad in red and mauve robes that swept the floor, stood before the altar. In their hands they held seashell bowls. As each passed the statue, he poured liquid from his bowl onto the altar. The Qualinesti saw oil, sand, and a dark substance they feared was blood dribbled onto the flawless white coral.