by Dragon Lance
Vixa slid back into the pool and resumed dolphin form. She caught some small fish and brought them back for Naxos. The ravenous Dargonesti ate them with gusto. At his instruction, she brought him several long strands of kelp. These he made into a thick pad, pressing it to his wound.
“Bring back the water of Zura, Princess, and we will escape the same day!” he adjured her.
She bobbed her dolphin head vigorously in reply and sank beneath the water.
Chapter 15
WATER OF ZURA
As the days went by, the thirty or so slaves who’d survived the flooding of Nissia Grotto began to drift out of the House of Arms. Singly and in pairs, as boredom overcame their fear of the Dargonesti, they wandered out of the citadel and into the city.
What Gundabyr found strange was that he never saw any of them on his jaunts through the streets, and none of the former slaves ever returned to the House of Arms. Six days after the battle, only a handful of men remained in the headquarters of the Urionan army. These were drylanders too sick or too injured to be up and about.
Three days earlier Armantaro had stormed off to locate Vixa, and he’d not returned either. A messenger had come from the palace bringing word to Gundabyr that the colonel was remaining there, to be with his princess and because his cough needed treatment. Still, the dwarf felt a bit like the kender cavalry commander in the famous story. “Charge the foe!” cried the kender commander, and five hundred kender on ponies charged – back the way they’d come. The commander, oblivious to this fact, rode on to meet the enemy alone.
Gundabyr resolved to seek out Armantaro and Vixa. Anything had to be better than sitting on his rump in this citadel day after day with nothing to do and no one to do it with. He needed something to occupy his mind, other than sad thoughts of Garnath.
There was no disguising his squat dwarven frame in a city of seven-foot-tall people, so he didn’t try. The majority of the sea elves had finally moved on to other diversions, and the crowds that followed him now consisted mainly of children. Ten or twelve young sea elves, some of them as tall as adult Qualinesti, tried to tag along behind him as he mounted the central ramp. Their attentions were innocent, but Gundabyr had grown tired of being stared at. He whirled around and shouted, “Go home!” The startled children fled. Gundabyr stumped onward.
When he reached the top of the ramp, he was surprised to discover the magic barrier that usually concealed its entrance was no more. Beyond the ramp, he could see the green of the palace glimmering. There were no guards in sight. He entered the palace plaza and received another surprise.
The great courtyard was clogged with equipment: stands of spears by the thousands, sacks of provisions, armor, helmets, and most astonishing of all, enormous piles of cylindrical clay pots, just like the ones he’d designed to hold the gnomefire for the firelances. The Dargonesti were obviously stockpiling fresh supplies, but why? The chilkit menace was gone.
He could hear Dargonesti moving about in other parts of the plaza, but the heaps of goods screened his view. The dwarf made his way along an aisle that snaked through the military equipment. He soon came to a clearing in which stood a table. Kelp paper was strewn on the tabletop. He scanned the first document that came to hand. It was a map. Gundabyr couldn’t read the angular Dargonesti printing, but by the shape of the river delta and coastline, he guessed this was a chart of southern Silvanesti.
“You there! Drylander! Do not move!”
Gundabyr hadn’t been addressed in that tone for quite some time. A quartet of Dargonesti soldiers approached rapidly. Their leader snatched the map from the dwarf’s hand and shoved him backward.
“Remove this drylander from the royal residence,” said the officer in a nasty tone.
When the three Dargonesti soldiers advanced, Gundabyr clenched a fist the size of a nail keg and punched the Dargonesti officer in the stomach. The lightly built sea elf went over backward, air whooshing out of his mouth. He collided with his squad. All four went down like ninepins.
The sprawling Dargonesti made a most diverting sight, but the sound of marching feet told Gundabyr that reinforcements were coming. This was no place for a lone forgemaster! He grabbed the map of the Silvanesti coast, shoved it under his vest, then ran. The fact that they hadn’t wanted him to see the map told him it must be important.
The masses of arms and supplies had turned the formerly open plaza into a maze. Gundabyr went down one winding aisle after another, but he kept running into Dargonesti. He decided to make his own path. Kicking over a stand of spears, he bulled through the rows of equipment. Shouts echoed through the plaza. Someone cast a spear at him. It missed, clattering harmlessly against the hard floor. Gundabyr put his head down and stormed through a wall of shields. His stumpy legs got caught, and he tripped. The shields toppled over, covering him.
He lay still. The Dargonesti were searching nearby. When he heard their footfalls recede, he crawled slowly out from under the shields. He got about five yards before the way was blocked by a large bundle lying on the floor. The dwarf shoved, but the bundle was heavy. As he pushed against it, his hands felt its contents. It felt almost like —
Casting quick glances left and right, Gundabyr worked at the lacing on the brown seaweed covering. Sure enough, a knobby human hand poked out of the hole he made. Why was a dead human lying in the palace plaza?
He realized there were a number of bundles here, pretty much identical. Cold anger seized his heart. No wonder the slaves had never returned to the House of Arms. Coryphene had had them murdered!
A heavy stone had been placed in each makeshift shroud. The dwarf raged silently against Coryphene. After the drylanders had been instrumental in the defeat of the chilkit, the Protector couldn’t simply execute the prisoners. That might disrupt the victory atmosphere. No, he had let the slaves think they were going to be freed, then secretly had them killed! Reorx take his eyes, he had given his word!
One bundle was noticeably longer than the rest. Swallowing hard, Gundabyr inched toward its head and pulled the seaweed cloth apart.
Armantaro.
Now he was truly afraid. He hadn’t seen Princess Vixa in days. Perhaps she was dead as well. Aside from the few sick and injured humans in the House of Arms, Gundabyr might be the only drylander left in Urione.
“Things don’t look good for our young dwarf,” he murmured.
Reverently, he covered Armantaro’s face. The Qualinesti colonel had been a good fellow, a brave fighter, and a wise elf. Gundabyr said a little prayer to Reorx, asking him to put in a good word with Astra, highest god of the Qualinesti. When he was done, he said a second prayer for himself. He would need plenty of divine aid if he was going to get out of this predicament alive.
He crawled on, using his powerful arms to drag himself forward. He reached the line of columns that encircled the plaza. The clutter of goods did not extend into the colonnade, so Gundabyr stood. He could hear the clash and clatter as the soldiers combed the stockpile behind him. Now was the time to make his move.
Skulking along the shadowed wall, Gundabyr went as quietly as his bulky physique allowed. There were numerous doorways to cross, and he never knew, when he dashed from one side to the other, if someone in the passage would see him and raise the alarm. After six such heart-pounding crossings, he paused, flattening himself against the palace wall. There were voices ahead.
Coryphene and two soldiers had emerged from a corridor and were standing under the portico. “Join the search,” Coryphene told the soldiers. “Find the dwarf, immediately.”
“And the other prisoner?” asked one of the Quoowahb.
The Protector glanced back the way they’d come. “She is secure. Go.”
She! That could only be Vixa Ambrodel. She must still be alive! Gundabyr waited until Coryphene walked away before slipping into the corridor. There were several arched openings off this passage, and Gundabyr, with bated breath, crossed them all.
At the rear of the corridor he found a door whose surface
was marred by a simple locking mechanism. The bolt had not been thrown home, but it was the first lock the dwarf had seen in Urione, and it made him curious. He put his ear against the cold granite. No sound came from within. He would have to chance it. He eased open the door.
Vixa was sitting in a heavy chair, her back to the door. She wore a green Dargonesti robe, but her short golden hair was unmistakable. Gundabyr slipped into the room.
“Release me, Coryphene!” Vixa cried, hearing the door close. “Is this how you repay those who help you?”
“Shh, lady, it’s me. Gundabyr Ironbender.”
“Gundabyr! Get me out of this!”
He came around the front of the chair and saw a bizarre sight. Vixa was not shackled or bound in any way. She was sitting bolt upright in the chair, facing the wall. Poised in midair, its barbed tip a hairbreadth from her chest, was a Dargonesti spear. Midway down the horizontal shaft, a gold ring glittered.
“What’s this?”
“Coryphene’s little joke, long since grown stale! He used that ring of his to set up this spell. If I move, the spear will impale me.”
“What if I remove the spear?”
“No! Don’t touch it! The only thing you can do is take off the ring. Slide it down the shaft to the butt, but don’t let it touch the spear. Once the ring’s off, the spell will be broken.”
Gundabyr grimaced. “Move the ring without letting it touch the spear? That’s a tall order, Princess. No wonder Coryphene felt no need to lock the door.”
“You can do it, Gundabyr. Your hands are skillful, and your nerve is like the iron you forge.”
“It’s not my skill or nerve I’m worried about. It’s these thick fingers of mine.”
“Do it, Gundabyr! You must! I’ve got us a way out of here, a way to get home!”
The dwarf nodded, rubbing his hands along the tops of his trousers. He held out his right hand, flexing his stubby fingers as they neared the floating ring. An inch away, he stopped, pulling his hand back.
“I can’t, lady! I’m too clumsy, I tell you! You’ll die if I try it.”
“We’ll both die if you don’t.”
Gundabyr sat back on his haunches to think. There had to be a way to move the ring without letting it touch the spear shaft. If only he had a feather, he could slip it between the floating ring and the spear. But he had no feather, no tools, nothing. He sighed.
His gust of breath made the floating ring quiver. Was that it?
He explained his idea to Vixa. Sweating profusely, the princess agreed he should try it. Gundabyr moved around behind her. Leaning forward over her shoulder, he blew against the ring. It quivered, but didn’t move. He blew harder. Coryphene’s ring skittered two inches toward the spear butt.
“Hurrah!” Vixa rejoiced. “You can do it!”
“It’s going to take a lot of wind.”
During Gundabyr’s many pauses for breath, Vixa told him about her explorations as a dolphin, the chilkit tunnel she’d found, and the discovery she’d made there. By which time, Gundabyr had moved the ring only half the distance necessary.
“So he’s alive.” The dwarf panted with exertion, his cheeks red. “Glad to hear it. Anything that thwarts Coryphene makes me happy.”
A few more minutes of huffing and puffing and the ring was only scant inches from the end of the spear shaft. Gundabyr took a short break and outlined what had been happening in the city since the battle. When he got to the part about finding their fellow prisoners dead and prepared for disposal at sea, Vixa blanched.
“And Armantaro?” she whispered. The dwarf nodded curtly, his eyes fixed on the ring. He started blowing again, faster and harder, looking down to avoid the tears glistening in Vixa’s eyes. “He was ill. Did he die of his cough or was it murder?”
“The others weren’t sick, lady, and they’re dead.”
“Coryphene gave his word! He promised he would free us!”
“He obviously changed his mind.”
Hatred welled up inside Vixa. Armantaro was dead. Like Harmanutis, Vanthanoris, Captain Esquelamar, and for all she knew, everyone she’d left on Evenstar. All gone. Murdered by Coryphene and his insane queen.
“Hold still, lady!” Gundabyr hissed. Vixa forced herself to relax, pushing away her grief. It would serve no purpose now. Almost inaudibly, she said, “I will kill them both.”
The icy coldness of her tone made Gundabyr stare at her. Her face, considered “humanlike” back in Qualinost because of her quarter-human ancestry, had worn thin under the hardships she’d endured. Poor food and privation had sharpened her features and bled most of the color from her skin. The dwarf could see the rage burning in her eyes.
“Princess, I’m about done,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“I am.”
He filled his cheeks, blew smartly. The ring flew off, ricocheting against the wall. No sooner had it left the shaft than the spear dropped harmlessly to the floor. Vixa was up in an instant, the weapon in her hands.
“Thank you, my friend! Let’s go.”
He restrained her with one hand. “Escape, Princess, yes? Revenge can’t be enjoyed when you’re dead.”
Before she could reply, they heard voices outside. Vixa sat back in the chair. Gundabyr scurried to the far corner and hid behind a stone column.
Coryphene entered, leaving a pair of guards in the corridor. “Hello, Princess,” he called out. “Still here, I see.” From his position he couldn’t tell that Vixa, rather than his spell, was holding the spear in place.
“When are you going to keep your word and release me?”
There was the slightest of pauses. “Soon,” he replied evenly. “Right now my warriors are looking for the dwarf Gundabyr. I thought he might have found his way in here.”
“No such fortune. Is Armantaro nearby? I’d like to speak to him.”
“That’s impossible. Her Divine Majesty has forbidden it.”
Vixa resisted a powerful urge to hurl the spear at him. She must remember that Gundabyr, too, would be endangered if the guards were to rush in.
“Where’s your honor, Coryphene? Don’t the Quoowahb believe in keeping their word?”
“You would be well advised not to provoke me. You’re alive now only —” He stopped abruptly.
“Yes? Go on, Coryphene. What truth were you about to let slip?”
He made a fist. “You’re alive because I have defied my divine queen! She has ordered your death, Vixa Ambrodel, but I have secreted you here instead!”
“How kind of you, but why?”
“Because the Protector of Urione does possess honor.”
Vixa’s arm, holding the spear by its head, was beginning to ache. “So, what’s to become of me?”
“After we take Silvanost and Uriona is crowned queen of all the elven nations, I will set you free. Perhaps you would make a good viceroy, to rule in Qualinost in Her Divine Majesty’s name.”
Astonishment momentarily left the princess bereft of speech. Coryphene must be as crazy as his queen, if he thought she would become the tool of a conqueror. How little he knew her!
“I believe that, in time, you will come to accept Her Divinity’s power,” the Protector went on. “My queen will reward me in the future for not killing you now.”
Vixa heard Coryphene’s footfalls as he moved from the doorway, coming farther into the room. If he drew too near, he would see his spell had been thwarted. Sweat trickled down her forehead.
“My lord!” A soldier had appeared in the doorway. “The watch reports a disturbance at the House of Arms.”
“What kind of disturbance?”
“A dispute – a riot between the surviving drylanders and the sea brothers.”
Smothering an oath, Coryphene hurried from the room. Gundabyr emerged from his hiding place, and Vixa, with a relieved gasp, let the spear drop.
“Damn him!” she fumed, rubbing her aching wrist. “Did you hear that? I would make a good viceroy to rule in Qualinost, he said. What kind of
weak-minded simpleton does he take me for?”
“Lady, we must go,” insisted the dwarf.
Once outside under the colonnade, Vixa whispered, “We must hurry to the temple of Zura. Naxos needs water from the fountain there to heal his wound.”
They had to take the central ramp, at least part of the way. Vixa dropped down on her stomach and started crawling into the plaza. The war supplies hid them both from the remaining guards until they reached the entrance to the spiral ramp. Gundabyr rolled into the opening. Vixa ducked after him. The ramp was clear.
Noises drifted up to them from the lower levels. Creeping down the ramp, Vixa and Gundabyr speculated on what might be happening below.
“A riot? That doesn’t make sense,” Gundabyr mused. “The only drylanders left in the House of Arms are too sick and weak even to walk, much less riot.”
“Well, in any event, the timing was perfect.” Perhaps a little too perfect, Vixa added silently.
The thick scent of incense told them they were nearing the temple level. Farther on, and they could see robed priests and priestesses coming and going. It seemed impossible for Vixa and the dwarf to slip by unseen. Gundabyr, a practical soul, reached out from their hidden vantage point and grabbed an unsuspecting Dargonesti acolyte. A good solid blow to the back of his head, and the acolyte was in dreamland. Now they had a robe to wear.
“You’re too short to pass for a Dargonesti,” Vixa reminded him.
“Well, so are you, lady.”
Vixa chewed her lip for a moment, then a smile broke out on her face. She leaned over and whispered in Gundabyr’s ear. Soon he was grinning, too.
Moments later, a tall acolyte draped in a hooded gray robe joined the lines of worshipers in the courtyard outside Urione’s temple complex. The new acolyte surreptitiously studied the inscriptions at the entrance to the various sanctuaries.
“Can you read them?” said a low, strained voice from the vicinity of the acolyte’s waist.
“Shh, legs can’t talk. I’ll let you know.”
Sitting astride Gundabyr’s shoulders, Vixa tapped him with her left heel to steer him down a narrow lane. The usual Dargonesti script eluded Vixa’s understanding, but here in the temple precinct the priests still used Old Elvish, just as was written in Silvanost more than a millennium ago. It was awkward and archaic, but Vixa, always an avid reader, had at least a general comprehension. She puzzled her way past structures sacred to gods named El-ai, the Fisher, and Ke-en. She decided these were the Dargonesti equivalents of E’li, the Blue Phoenix, and Quen. Then they entered a smaller, circular courtyard, faced by three lesser temples. The names on these were Matheri, Estarin, and Zura.
