by Jean Rabe
Feril shut out the sensation and selected another spell. As it took effect, she watched the sea elf step back, filled with surprise. The Dimernesti grabbed a piece of sculpture, holding it in front of her, and Feril prayed the sea elf wouldn’t hit her with it. The Kagonesti desperately needed her first encounter with a Dimernesti to be a friendly one.
The sea elf replaced the sculpture, and Feril breathed a sigh of relief. The Kagonesti continued to change. Her tail elongated and split, forming legs covered with pale yellow scales. Her fins thrust out to her sides, fleshed out and became scale-covered arms. Within several moments, Feril floated before the sea elf, her hair fluttering like a lion’s mane in the water, the tattoos on her face and arm visible. She had taken on her Kagonesti form, but her body retained the triggerfish’s scales and coloration, and her neck preserved the fish’s gills.
Veil. The word the sea elf repeated again sounded like “veil.” The Dimernesti cautiously approached Feril. More words spilled from her mouth. “Elf” was the only one Feril could make out.
The Kagonesti tried to respond but found she couldn’t speak intelligibly in this form. Her own elven words were foreign to the sea elf. She settled on a different tact, thinking of Groller so far distant. Pointing toward the ceiling, she cupped her hands in front of her, as if she were holding something. Then she moved her hands forward, as if they were a boat. Finally she placed her hands flat against each other and tilted them down, pantomiming diving.
The sea elf looked at her quizzically, but friendly, extended a hand, and led her from the room. As they went, the sea elf continued to talk; her words sounded musical. Only a few had any similarity to the elven tongue Feril knew. The only ones she recognized were elf, magic, and dragon.
Their path took them across the park. Nowhere did Feril see any other beings, only the triggerfîsh and a few crabs that scuttled along the sandy streets. The sea elf swam quickly, furtively glancing above and down each waterway between rows of buildings. She slipped between a pair of rose-colored dwellings, coaxing Feril along.
Then the Dimernesti turned down a street lined with massive, polished conch shells. They passed several more ruined buildings along the way. Feril wanted to ask her guide about them, but she filed the questions away for later, for a time when communication might become possible. Perhaps the elf was taking her to someone who could help her.
They approached a building that Feril guessed stretched upward five or six stories. It was a pale gray, shot through in places by streaks of silver. Soft orange light spilled from windows that spiraled up its sides.
The sea elf started talking again, faster, words that didn’t register with the Kagonesti. She pulled Feril toward a round door, rapping her pale blue hand against it. After several moments, the door opened, and a male sea elf stood in the frame.
His skin was a shade of bright blue, and his hair was dark green and short. He looked at the pair with a puzzled expression, as the female sea elf guide rattled off what Feril assumed was an explanation of how a fish swam into her home and turned into a scaly elf.
The man stepped aside, gesturing, and Feril allowed herself to be conducted into a circular chamber, the walls of which were covered in shell mosaics depicting fish, blue-skinned elves, and fantastical creatures. There was a hole in the ceiling, providing access to another floor. A similar hole at the edge of the room led to somewhere below.
Three more sea elves swam through an oval doorway directly across from Feril. They were young and muscular, wearing only shimmering cloths about their thighs. And they carried nets. Feril moved back toward the door, panic rising in her throat.
Her guide shook her head at the men, waving her webbed hands and speaking rapidly. But the men seemed to ignore her and headed straight toward Feril.
The Kagonesti felt the rush of water behind her as the door was closed, blocking her way out. She whirled and bumped into the bright blue elf. He grabbed her shoulders, and spoke words she couldn’t decipher. She struggled, but his hands were surprisingly strong and locked about her arms. He pushed her against the wall, continued to talk.
“I mean no harm!” Feril shouted in her native tongue, then again in the common tongue. Both times her words were distorted and lost on the sea elves. “I can’t let this happen!”
She summoned her strength, placing her feet against the wall, and pushed back as hard as she could, managing to break the grip of the blue sea elf.
Then she kicked out with as much force as she could manage. She bought herself a few yards, though the men with the nets were coming closer as her guide still argued with them.
She swam toward the oval doorway, narrowly avoiding the outstretched nets. Then she quickly altered her course. More elves might be in the chambers beyond. At the last moment, she kicked her legs hard and angled herself toward the hole in the ceiling. She was about to kick harder when a hand clamped around her ankle.
Her foot struck a face, and she bucked wildly to tear loose. But a hand grabbed her other ankle, and though she continued to struggle, the hands pulled her down. A net was thrown over her. Feril ripped through several of the strands. A second net was added, the weave uncomfortably tight. And then a third.
Bundled up, the Kagonesti was carried through the hole in the ceiling. The sea elf who had guided Feril to this building was left behind as she was taken to the third story of the tower. She was kept here under the guard of a pair of elves who tried to talk to her. It was hopeless – she still couldn’t fathom a word. The nets in which she was trapped were secured to a decorative post.
There was furniture in this room, and her three guards sat on slabs extending from the walls. The largest of the sea elves commanded a net chair that hung from a corner. Having given up on communicating with her, they conversed among themselves. Feril listened as she struggled to free herself. “Elf” was the word repeated most often. “Magic, fish, and dragon” always followed. Other elves came and went, chattering to her guards and ogling the prisoner.
She could use her magic to alter her form, become small enough, perhaps, to slip through gaps in the net. Other spells could split and rend the net and let her flee in this form. But should she cast such spells? Or should she wait, bide her time? The sea elves had not hurt her. And if they operated like other elven societies, no doubt leaders were being summoned to decide what to do with her. Perhaps she would be able to explain to them about the crown.
But how long should she wait?
A while, at least, she finally decided; long enough to rest and rebuild her strength. Feril was tired. She drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep, regaining some of her strength. She suspected the better part of the day had passed by the time her guards changed. The two new watchers chatted with her former captors in the doorway.
She concentrated, remembering the triggerfîsh, deciding a small one might wriggle its way free and lose itself in this city. One triggerfîsh among dozens. She felt her skin tighten, her form start to shrink. Then she stopped the spell. One of the new guards was approaching.
“Do you understand the common tongue?” he asked, the words muffled through the water, but distinct enough for her to make them out. “Veylona thought she heard you speak it. Are you from the surface?”
Her heart soared with excitement. She nodded vigorously. She tried to talk and failed miserably, though a few words came across. “Feril” sounded like Groller’s “Furl”, and “crown” sounded more like “round.” Another form would be best, she considered, something that might...
The sea elf yanked the nets free. “This was a precaution, nothing more,” he said. “We did not intend to harm you. Veylona – she was certain you meant no harm to us, though we had to be convinced.”
Veylona, Feril thought. Veil? The word the sea elf woman had repeated.
“These are difficult times for us,” the Dimernesti continued. “And you must understand that visitors here are most rare. Our mystics divined that you were alone, not a spy for the dragon.”
“
Veylona?” Feril said the word loud and slow.
“Veylona, she brought you here. Her command of the common tongue is not as good as mine. Veylona, she asked me to guide you. She thinks you are a sorceress.”
Feril swam free of the nets and flexed her arms and legs.
“Are you a sorceress?”
The Kagonesti shook her head. How to explain? Perhaps it was better not to. At last, she nodded slowly.
“A sorceress from the surface. Then you require air? Prefer air?”
Feril nodded again, more vigorously. If she had air to breathe, she could better talk to him, and explain why she was here and what she needed.
He motioned for her, and she followed, the other guard swimming behind her. His fingers were wrapped around the haft of a trident.
“I am Beldargh,” he said. “One of the city guardians. I am taking you to a room with air, where in decades past we brought visitors from the surface. It has not been used in a most long time.”
This room was at the top of the tower, the water in it shallow, held at bay, Feril suspected, by an enchantment cast long ago. Her face broke the surface as she concentrated on her body again, this time returning it fully to her Kagonesti form. The guard poked his head above the water next to her.
“Feril,” she gasped, as she took in a lungful of the stale air. “My name is Feril.”
“Sorceress Feril of the Surface,” Beldargh said slowly, his words sounding breathy in the air. “Were you on a ship that Brine sank? Did you survive by magic?”
“No. The dragon hasn’t sunk our ship. I hope it’s beyond his reach. But I’m here because of the dragon – all the dragons. I need your help. I need the crown.”
“The Crown of Tides?”
Feril nodded.
“Feril, I do not think that will be possible.” Beldargh’s expression darkened, and he shook his head.
“Please listen to me,” she begged. While Beldargh listened, the Kagonesti began the long tale of what brought her to the underwater realm.
“Dimernost,” Beldargh said when she was finally finished. “It will take us a day to reach there. In Dimernost you will ask our...” He groped for a word in her tongue. “Our leader. Our most wise leader will decide. We leave now.”
He motioned for her to follow, then added. “Expect disappointment, Sorceress Feril of the Surface.”
*
Dimernost, the capital of the underwater realm, looked much like the city Feril had first visited, though much larger. Beldargh served as her guide, and she was accompanied by a handful of other sea elves, including Veylona, the first sea elf that the Kagonesti had met.
She was led through a series of domes partially filled with air. The party stopped at an ornate room containing dozens of sea elves. Most wore few clothes and had pale blue skin, Feril noted, though others had gray skin, and a few were dark blue. Their hair color varied, as well, from white to almost blond, to green, and in many cases various shades of blue.
In the center of the assemblage stood a robed woman to whom the other elves seemed to defer. She had a matronly air, and her unblinking eyes carefully regarded Feril.
“I am Nuqala, Speaker of the Sea,” the woman began in the common tongue. Her accent was one Feril had heard spoken in Khur. “And you are a Kagonesti. Only once do I recall one of your kind visiting with us. That was a long while ago, and he was with a merchant trader seeking to barter goods. Like the trader, you appear to wish something from us.”
Feril nodded and opened her mouth to explain, but Nuqala continued.
“Word moves quickly through the water. What you wish is very valuable, precious to us and life-sustaining.” She paused a moment, and then continued. “You seem to have a considerable command of magic. That magic allowed you to avoid Bryndelsemir.”
Again Feril nodded.
“Explain yourself,” the woman stated.
Words tumbled from Feril’s lips. It was the same story she earlier had told Beldargh, but now it was much more complete: how she came across the Southern Courrain Ocean with her companions in search of Dimernesti, and how she elected to make this part of the journey alone because of her command of nature magic. She explained that she had seen no signs of the dragon, but had seen the ship graveyard.
“Ships sail here no longer,” Nuqala said. Her voice was tinged with melancholy. “We have no more trade with the surface. We are prisoners here. But we are fighters. We do not give up. Our people hunt, though some in turn are hunted by Bryndelsemir. We tend crops, and the dragon devours some of our farmers. But we will never surrender to the dragon. I believe Bryndelsemir does not want to kill us all, as he would have nothing to toy with. We use the Crown of Tides to keep him at bay, preventing him from destroying all of our cities. And you want the crown that is our defense?” Nuqala’s laughed sadly and shook her head. “You, surface elf, want us to surrender. You would doom us, and for what purpose?”
“I don’t wish to doom you but to save you and to save all of Krynn,” Feril replied. There was urgency in the Kagonesti’s voice. “The crown is old, an artifact from the Age of Dreams. Palin Majere believes
“Majere? Palin, nephew of Raistlin?” The sea elf tilted her head. “That is a name I have not heard for decades. Palin Majere lives?”
“Yes. He sent us here, to recover the crown. He believes that with the crown, and with other artifacts, we can stop Takhisis from returning and can make a stand against the overlords.”
“You want to help your people against the dragons on the surface. You want me to hand over something sacred to save the surface dwellers.”
“I won’t deny that,” Feril returned. “But I also want to help you. Please believe me. We haven’t much time. Takhisis is returning. And if the Dark Queen comes back to Krynn, your people will have worse things to worry about than a sea dragon.”
The other elves in the domed chamber spoke among themselves, some arguing. A few chattered heatedly to Nuqala in the tongue Feril could only catch pieces of. Nuqala seemed to absorb all their conversations.
“The crown is one of our most hallowed treasures,” she said at last, turning back to Feril. “It belongs to the Dimernesti. It is part of our heritage, linked to our lives.”
“There will be no Dimernesti if the dragons have their way and Takhisis returns,” said the Kagonesti.
“I will consider your words, as I will consider the words of my people. You will stay as our guest for the day, surface elf. In the morning, you shall have my answer.”
Chapter 17
ROUGH WATERS
“I don’t like this one bit.” Rig pressed the spyglass to his eye, looking out across the choppy water tinted pink by the dawn sun. “She should’ve been back by now. It’s been three days.”
Dhamon leaned against the railing nearby, his gazed fixed on a swell in the distance. “We have to wait for her.”
“I don’t intend to pull up the anchor... just yet,” the mariner returned. “So you don’t have to be all worried that I’ll leave her stranded – if she’s still alive. She’s a friend of mine, and I’m not one to abandon my friends. But waiting isn’t my style either. If Palin contacts Usha again tonight, I’ll see how much longer we can afford to stay here.” He thrust the glass at Dhamon. “I’m gonna wake up Fiona, and the two of us’ll fix some breakfast. Something edible. Something better than what Blister came up with last night.”
The mariner glided across the deck, silent as a cat. Dhamon held the glass to his eye and looked out over the water.
“Still lookin’ at that scepter?” Blister addressed Usha, who was sitting on a thick coil of rope. “I’ll admit it is pretty. And awfully valuable what with all those gems on it. But I’d get tired of looking at the same thing all the time. Of course, there isn’t much else to look at, I suppose. There’s water. Lots of water. You could count the panels of wood in the captain’s cabin. I already did that, though. So maybe we could —”
“Good morning, Blister!”
“Good mor
ning to you, Jasper.” The kender turned her attention to the dwarf. “Usha’s lookin’ at the scepter again.”
“I can see that.”
“She’s still trying to remember something.”
“I think I’ve figured out a way to help her do just that.”
The kender’s eyes grew wide. “Really? What? How?”
The dwarf sniffed the air. “Mmmm. Breakfast. Rig and Fiona are in the galley, working on something tasty.”
The kender scurried toward the stairs. “I told Rig I’d cook breakfast! I wanted to use that jar of blue flour I found last night!”
“What did you have in mind?” Usha asked the dwarf.
“Something I should have thought of a long time ago, if I’d been thinking right. Remember when we were in Ak-Khurman, and I, uh,... made the spy a little more cooperative? The spell might work on you, too.”
Usha’s eyes sparkled as she set the scepter at her feet. “Please, Jasper. Anything to help me remember.”
The dwarf reached inside himself, felt for the spark, and coaxed it to grow. The sooner he accomplished this, he told himself, the sooner he could go back below deck where he didn’t have to watch the water pitch and roll and where his stomach didn’t seem to rise quite so high into his throat. He held a stubby hand out toward Usha, rested it on her leg and stared into her golden eyes.
“Friend,” the dwarf began.
“Friend,” Usha heard herself reply. She closed her eyes, and the blue of the Southern Courrain Ocean disappeared. Her world was filled, instead, with green.
Usha watched Palin leave, the forest of the Qualinesti swallowing him along with Feril and Jasper. The green filled her vision and made her feel suddenly empty and isolated, somehow frightening her a little. For several moments all she heard was her own uneasy breathing. She felt in her ears the beating of her heart, and faintly she heard the rustling of the leaves in the slight breeze.
