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The Eve of the Maelstrom

Page 21

by Jean Rabe


  One mast, Rig said to himself. “This isn’t one of the carracks,” he said aloud, the size of the ship sinking in.

  “No. All of them caught fire.” Fiona came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head into his neck. “But you probably weren’t awake to see them burn. They lit up the sky for miles and miles.”

  “One mast. Twenty-five feet long at the most,” he said. “The cog.”

  “Twenty-two. Blister paced it off.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “At least we got a ship,” Fiona consoled him. “The one ship that didn’t catch fire. And she is awfully pretty.”

  “No,” Rig softly grumbled. He shook his head then closed his eyes. “We don’t have a ship, Fiona. We have a boat.”

  Chapter 16

  DIMERNESTI

  Feril stood poised on the railing, near the port side of the Narwhal’s bowsprit. She gazed at the rolling water as it captured glimmering shards of the late morning sun. The light sparkled like stars glittering in a night sky. In the distance she spotted a darker patch of blue that indicated the presence of a reef. And at the very edge of her vision was a rocky ridge she knew was dotted with sea caves, where ships had moored and traded with the Dimernesti before the great sea dragon came to rule the area.

  The sunken land of the sea elves was said to rest somewhere between the reef and ridge.

  “Wish I could go with you.” Blister stood a few feet behind her. “I’ve never been under the water before. Well, other than swimming a little bit, and that doesn’t count. I mean, I’ve never seen a whole underwater country and elves and everything. Do you think someday you could teach me how to do your magic so I could go under the water too?”

  Feril didn’t answer. To say “no” would hurt Blister’s feelings and probably elicit a dozen “whys” and “how comes.” And to say “yes” was out of the question. As soon as she made a stand with Palin against the Dark Queen, the Kagonesti intended to return to Southern Ergoth and direct her efforts against Gellidus, or Frost as men called the white overlord. And if that dragon could someday be driven off, Feril intended to settle in either Onysablet’s swamp or Beryllinthranox’s forest.

  Her future plans, however, did not depend on the others in the party. She felt close to Blister and the others, to Dhamon especially. But that closeness couldn’t substitute for her need to be alone and in the wilderness.

  The kender spoke a little louder, thinking perhaps that the waves washing against the ship had drowned out her voice. “Feril, do you think some day maybe you could teach me...”

  The Kagonesti pulled a deep breath of salt-tinged air into her lungs and dove over the side.

  “... how to cast magic?” Blister’s lower lip stuck out and she shuffled to the rail, catching a glimpse of Feril’s feet. Then the Kagonesti was gone.

  The sea closed like a cocoon, and Feril concentrated on the feel of the water against her skin, focusing on a spell that would transform her into a creature she had studied years earlier. She’d spent most of the previous day sleeping and gathering her strength. The rest was necessary, as magic was taxing.

  She felt her skin tingle as her lungs started calling for air. As the Kagonesti angled herself deeper, she saw the skin of her outstretched arms darken and become the color of mud. The water felt different now; her skin, too, was different: thicker, rubbery. Her tunic slipped from her and floated toward the sea floor.

  Her hands disappeared, her feet vanished, and her limbs became snakelike. They writhed in the water, propelling her on. Her lungs ached, and she took a tentative gulp of water. Not yet! The spell had not yet progressed far enough. She concentrated harder as her head pounded.

  Feril’s snakelike limbs thickened, and more sprouted from her body – two arms on each side, growing from ribs that were snapping and popping and changing.

  She dove deeper, as the light diminished, looking hazy now. The plants around her were plentiful, pointing their stalks and leaves toward the surface, trying to drink in the dim light. Her leggings slipped away.

  The hair that fluttered around her face receded, her torso shortened, became bulbous, melding with her enlarging head. Her fingers and toes reformed and multiplied, becoming hundreds of suction-cup appendages. So sensitive were the cups that as they brushed against sea fronds, a myriad of sensations flooded into the Kagonesti’s brain. Feril gasped, this time taking a great gulp of water into her lungs. The feeling was strange, as if she were drowning, the water inside of her and part of her. But she wasn’t drowning; she was finally breathing the water. Her heart hammered wildly, and she focused on calming herself, accepting the new experience.

  The octopus dropped toward the white sandy floor. Feril’s new body felt liquid and malleable, the tentacles undulating to carry her across the bottom, the suction cups registering the smoothness of stones, the roughness of sand, and the suppleness of the few plants. It was impossible to catalog all the impressions. Feril concentrated on taking in the landscape.

  Her new eyes, no longer needing sun-filtered light, easily peered through the now-dark water. The colors were intense. She had a wide range of vision and quickly learned to focus.

  She noted the cuttlefish and squid that swam just above the sea floor to the right and a little behind her, and she saw a large reef shark that swam ahead in the distance. The shark was hunting, practically inhaling a scurrying school of black-saddled pufferfish. The shark would leave her alone, Feril thought. She was too large, and probably not on its list of preferred morsels.

  Feril continued toward the reef, as she visually explored her surroundings. Then the sea floor abruptly sloped upward, and she gathered her limbs behind her, jetting forward. The water rushed around her, as she finally spread her limbs to slow her pace.

  The coral reef was breathtaking, and Feril found herself staring at it in amazement. Turtle grass grew in profusion along its base and was scattered in clumps here and there. Elkhorn coral, green and yellow growths, predominated in the section of reef closest to her. She saw patches of fire coral – yellow, white, and pale orange animals that looked like tendrils of fire. In some spots the coral was only a few yards across before it was cut by the sea bed. In others, it stretched for a few hundred yards.

  The fish were as colorful as the reef. A school of blue tang swam above the elkhorn. Box crabs clawed their way up toward the surface, snapping at tiny fish as they went. There were porcupine fish, star-eyed hermit crabs, delicate-looking leaf scorpionfish, and brittle stars. She wished her companions could see the marvels spread out before her. She watched a white ball sea urchin collecting bits of shells to cover itself. Nearby, a flamingo’s tongue, a small mollusc, was feeding on the polyps of soft coral, leaving a swath of death behind it.

  Her tentacles propelled her up the reef where the colors became brighter, a rainbow of life, as more sunlight spilled down. Then she was traveling over the top of the reef and down the other side, steeply down toward a great ravine that looked like a dark scar against the sea floor’s white sand.

  Feril gathered her tentacles and jetted across, glancing down into the darkness and seeing nothing but shadows which seemed to move in rhythm with the current and the seaweed.

  *

  “Do you think there’s a city under the water?” Blister stood next to Usha, who was sitting on a coil of rope, her back against the mast.

  Usha nodded. “Several.”

  “And do you think there’re elves there?”

  “They’re called the Dimernesti.”

  “Ever see one?”

  Usha shook her head.

  “Do you think Feril will find the place?”

  “I hope so.”

  “You know, we might not be in the right spot. The ocean’s awfully big.” The kender threw her hands out to the side, then shrugged.

  “I’m sure Rig followed the Master’s directions correctly,” said Usha soothingly. “We must be close.”

  “But Feril’s been gone for hours.” The k
ender had an uncharacteristically worried look on her face. “She missed lunch. What if she’s not back in time for dinner?”

  Usha smiled. “Give her time, Blister. Not only does she have to find Dimernesti, she has to find the crown.”

  The kender stared into Usha’s golden eyes. “I hope she doesn’t find the dragon. I remember Silvara telling us about Brine.”

  “Feril can take care of herself.” Rig had moved up behind Blister. “I’m more concerned about the dragon finding us. We’re the only ship on this part of the ocean. That makes us a sitting target. The dragon’s been known to sink ships that travel these waters.” He had a spyglass in his hand. It was elaborate, made of onyx and silver and inlaid with mother-of-pearl, one of the nautical treasures he’d found in the cabin. “I haven’t seen another ship since we left Khur about two weeks ago. All the smart captains keep their ships to the coasts.”

  “You don’t have to worry about the dragon,” Blister said. “The Narwhal’s much too small. The dragon’s not going to notice a boat.”

  Rig closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, balancing himself as the Narwhal pitched violently. The kender latched her arms around the mariner’s leg to keep from falling.

  When the sea finally calmed, she let go, steadied herself, and looked up into his dark eyes. “Have you ever seen a Dimernesti? A sea elf, not the land kind. They’re called the same thing even though they’re not the same thing. I know you haven’t seen the land. But you might have seen one of the elves. Usha told me that the sea elves can breathe air. You’ve sailed all over Ansalon, and I thought maybe...”

  “No. I haven’t seen one.” Rig handed Blister the spyglass. “Mind taking a turn at watch?”

  Blister grinned broadly and puffed out her chest, snatched the spyglass, and hurried toward the rear of the ship, where Groller was teaching Dhamon some of his sign language.

  “Thanks,” Usha said.

  “Don’t mention it,” replied the mariner, grinning. “I’m going to get some sleep and then take the evening watch. You should think about a little rest, too.”

  “Rest?” The new voice was craggy and accompanied by the tromp of boots. “There’ll be plenty of time to rest when we’ve stopped the Dark Queen from coming back.” Jasper had his canvas sack clutched in his hands. Fury was following him.

  Jasper reached in the sack, handing the scepter to Usha. She ran her thin fingers over its wooden surface, tracing the gems with her thumbs. “You really want to try again? You’ve been doing this every day,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “Ever think that maybe you can’t remember because there is nothing to remember?”

  “You’re sounding like Blister,” she teased him. “No. The elves made me forget because they were worried the scepter might fall into the wrong hands, and they didn’t want it used for evil. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Palin and I. And they didn’t think we’d voluntarily tell someone of its powers. They just didn’t want to take any chances.”

  Jasper sat next to her, looked between a gap in the railing at the waves, and held his stomach. Usha would never remember, he decided. Just as he would never get over being seasick.

  *

  The sea floor dropped off and the current became much stronger. Feril continued in the same direction, following the Master’s instructions. The water was even darker now, both because she was deeper and because it was evening. She knew several hours had passed, but felt no fatigue.

  She wouldn’t have had to swim so far if they had taken the Narwhal closer. But neither she nor Rig wanted that. They didn’t want to risk losing everyone on the ship to a dragon that, according to Silvara, liked to sink anything that came too close to Dimernesti.

  Her eyes picked through the murky shades, separating rocks from shadows from plants from...

  She stopped, her tentacles waving gently over the sand to keep her in place. A few dozen yards ahead, strange shapes rose from the sea floor. Black and angular, they weren’t rocks.

  Dimernesti? she wondered. Feril crept closer, squeezing herself through a pair of coral spires, and jetted toward a bulky shadow. A shipwreck, she realized a moment later. A large three-masted carrack lay on the sea floor, its masts stretching futilely toward the surface. Bits of sail and long sections of rope flapped in the current, making the whole thing look like the underside of a giant jellyfish.

  Her tentacles touched the hull, feeling the smoothness of the wood and the rough barnacles that dotted its surface. She moved to a gaping hole in the side and slipped inside. It was dark as midnight in the cargo hold. She made out crates, coils of rope, and barrels labeled in a tongue she couldn’t read. A body, completely covered with tiny red crabs, thumped against the hull’s interior. She spotted other sailors, or rather what was left of them, mostly picked clean by the local denizens.

  Shuddering, she scooted out of the wreck and continued on. Several dozen broken ships littered the sea floor: massive whalers, four-and five-masted galleons, caravels, cogs, merchant vessels and traders. All had become home to thousands of fish, lobsters, and crabs. As she threaded her way through the wreckage, she noted that some of the ships had been down here for decades, the largest of them claimed by sharks and squid. The algae was thick on the older wrecks, like blue-green carpets covering every inch.

  Buntlines wagged in the water like tethered sea snakes. Crow’s nests were canted at crazy angles, some still affixed to masts, others caught up in seaweed-draped rigging. The place was eerily peaceful. Small sharks skimmed over the decks, and a school of a yellow tang darted inside a three-masted caravel. Feril spied another octopus, not so large as herself. Its tentacles curled and uncurled through a gash in a small galley’s hull.

  There were more recent wrecks, too, and Feril could make out names along their hulls: Seawind, Balifor’s Darling, Blood Sea Bounty, Sanguine Lady, and Cuda’s Gem. Feril paid closer attention. Her tentacles carried her across their decks and into their holds, while her senses shut out the bodies trapped there.

  All of the ships had one thing in common – holes gaped in their hulls, as if they’d run aground on dangerous shoals. But there were no shoals in this deep water, no coral spikes hiding just below the surface. The dragon must have done this, she realized.

  Feril moved more quickly now. She had visions of the Narwhal joining this graveyard. She passed beyond the wrecks and followed the still sloping sea floor. Life here was sparse in comparison to what thrived elsewhere.

  Finally, she spotted the glimmering lights of what she was certain was an underwater kingdom. A school of palm-size triggerfîsh – bluechins, half-moons, clowns, and pinktails swam into view. Fish darted toward and away from a city that surpassed the coral reef in beauty. Feril’s eyes focused on spires and domes that looked as if they had been sculpted by an artist. The colors were dazzling oranges and greens, shimmering whites, pale blues and yellows. Along the buildings’ surfaces were windows. Light spilled from them, illuminating the city and making it look like a jeweled brooch.

  The city was at the edge of an underwater continent, nestled amid hills. It reminded Feril of Palanthas, held in cupped lands ringed by finger hills and mountains. White sand stretched beyond it.

  As she moved closer, she concentrated on the triggerfîsh. Within a few heartbeats, she felt her body shrinking, folding in upon itself. Her brown rubbery skin was replaced by scales, pale yellow along her sides, green atop her back, and white along her belly. Her limbs dissolved, becoming gills. A tail appeared, and her eyes moved atop her head, giving her a disconcertingly wide range of vision. Her new body was angular, a diamond shape with a tail, and it weighed no more than a few pounds. Her lips were bulbous and bright yellow, like the yellow band that shot just below her eyes.

  She joined the school of triggerfîsh and swam toward the city. The fish fed on the small coral growths that sprouted here and there along the mountains and near the base of the buildings. Feril saw shapes passing by the windows, manlike, some pausing to look out
before moving away.

  Part of the triggerfish school darted toward a dome, and she followed. The buildings toward the center of the city were smaller. Some buildings were curved, sweeping like a horn from the ground. Others looked like overturned vases, and a few resembled lobster tails and conch shells. There were no people outside the buildings. She continued to swim with the fish, giving herself a tour of the city, and wondering if all the elven cities in Dimernesti looked like this.

  Toward the south was what looked like a park. There were coral spires artfully arranged, as a gardener might purposefully plant trees and bushes. There were statues, too, though only one was intact: a tall sea elf with a trident clutched to his chest.

  Beyond the park stretched other evidence of destruction, a row of once-tall buildings that were now nothing more than rubble. The triggerfish swam toward this, spotting coral and algae growing on a collapsed wall. They feasted on the algae and on tiny animals that looked like lace floating just above it.

  Feril considered staying with the fish, hoping they would lead her around the city until she found a likely place where the crown might be. But the triggerfish showed no interest in leaving their algae snack, and Feril was in a hurry. She swam past the rubble to a smaller dome with a single light toward the roof. She darted in a window and found herself in a bedroom illuminated by a glowing shell on the wall. A net hammock fluttered between two poles. Cabinets lined one wall. An oval doorway led from this room, and Feril swam through it. Beyond was a room filled with benches and chairs, lit by more of the shells. Sculptures of sea creatures were arranged on low tables. The furniture was white, edged in pearls.

  Her heart leaped in surprise as something touched her. Fingers. She pumped her fins and turned about, stared face to face with a young pale blue elf. Long silvery-white hair streamed behind her, silver like the tunic she wore. At first, Feril thought the elf had no eyebrows, but then she saw they were so pale as to seem invisible.

  The sea elf’s hands were webbed, her ears gracefully pointed, eyes wide and expressive, hinting at warmth and kindness. Her lips, a darker shade of blue, were moving. She was saying something. Veil? Veil-long? Feril felt the vibrations in the water before she heard the words. But the Kagonesti couldn’t understand the words. As the sea elf spoke, fragments of words sounded familiar to Feril; they reminded her of her native tongue. Again, the sea elf ran her fingers along Feril’s sides.

 

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