by Mel Odom
The malenti recognized the kraken as the one that had guarded the tunnels leading to the king’s palace. Brought there as a young creature, the kraken had been fed by the royal guards till it was too big to get out through the tunnels it had been brought through. The guards had kept it on a regulated near-starvation diet that guaranteed it would eat anything that came within its reach.
Only it hadn’t acted like that with Iakhovas when they’d encountered it a tenday ago. With Iakhovas, the kraken had acted totally docile.
“There is your sign, Exalted One!” Iakhovas shouted, pointing at the great kraken as it continued to drift closer.
Huaanton stared up at the huge kraken in enraged silence.
Every sahuagin in the amphitheater knew the creatures possessed an uncanny intelligence. A kraken wouldn’t normally approach a sahuagin community, Laaqueel knew, especially one that had kept it captive. It had also gotten too large to get out of the caverns below by conventional means, leaving her no choice but to accept that Iakhovas had used his magic to arrange it. The kraken’s presence was proof again of the arcane abilities Iakhovas wielded.
“Here is your proof,” Iakhovas went on. “Proof that you demanded of our god.”
“You stand there and claim the appearance of this beast is a sign from Sekolah,” Huaanton thundered with deep clicks and thumps.
“Dare you claim it is not?” Iakhovas stretched his left hand upward. The kraken stretched one of its longest tentacles down at the same time, tenderly wrapping the huge, leaf-shaped pod around Iakhovas’s arm. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
Laaqueel knew the display left a distinct impression on the sahuagin community. Except for the guards who’d first seen Iakhovas with the kraken, no one else had ever seen anything like it either. The malenti priestess knew Iakhovas was treading a fine line between accreditation and accusation. Huaanton pushed it over the line.
“Magic,” the sahuagin king stated. The charge echoed over the crowd, eliciting small clicks and whistles of quiet conversation.
Laaqueel’s heart beat frantically in her chest. She took in fresh seawater through her mouth and flushed it out her gills. She held onto her belief in Sekolah with all her might.
Before the crowd had time to reach a decision on its own, Iakhovas raised his voice. “You try to denounce me? After all that you’ve demanded of Sekolah while giving so little of yourself?”
Huaanton shifted uneasily, knowing he was on dangerous ground himself. Laaqueel knew Iakhovas had led him there, carefully measuring each step.
“We’ve taken war to the surface dwellers for the first time in generations,” Iakhovas said. “We’ve fought them and we’ve broken them. We challenged them in their greatest city and seen it burn, taken their ships and seen them flee from the seas. Now you seek to undo all that?”
“We’ve done enough,” Huaanton replied.
“According to your will,” Iakhovas agreed, “perhaps we have, but I’ve seen a vision of We Who Eat one day marching through the streets of Waterdeep and other coastal cities. The surface dwellers ran cowering before us, no longer able to claim any part of the seas.” He paused, letting his words hang in the water. “That is when we’ve done enough.”
“You seek to lead us to our deaths, Iakhovas,” Huaanton said. “I know not why, but this I truly see. You were born less than fifteen years ago, yet you now hold the office of prince when most take three centuries to reach that position.”
Laaqueel stood in silent panic, knowing if Iakhovas came undone, she came undone with him. Her prayers continued without cease, but as always in Sekolah’s service, there was no true answer. Only the currents knew how things would sort out.
“Most of those positions,” Iakhovas pointed out, “came from you.”
“You fed off my own successes like a parasitic worm,” Huaanton said. “I didn’t see it then, but I see it now.”
Iakhovas drew himself to his full height. Even in his human form as Laaqueel saw him, he was impressive. The Royal Black Tridents nearest him involuntarily drew back. The albino kraken hung over the group with its tentacles waving in the currents.
“Truly,” Iakhovas said, “Sekolah does lay his hand upon our mission.” Still only three steps down from the sahuagin king he turned to address the crowd. “I thought only one sign was going to be presented here today. Now, I see that I was wrong. In his generosity, the Great Shark has given his chosen people two.” He gestured to the kraken. “We know that our war with the surface dwellers isn’t over.” He pointed at Huaanton. “And now we know that we have a king who is king of We Who Eat only in name and no true leader at all.” He stepped toward Huaanton.
Instantly, the king’s bodyguards moved to intercept Iakhovas. With a flicker of motion that ripped through the water, the kraken reached out and snatched up five of the guards in its tentacles, removing them from Iakhovas’s path. Before the other guards could react, Iakhovas stood in front of the sahuagin king.
“Huaanton, false king of We Who Eat of the Claarteeros Sea,” Iakhovas said in a loud voice, “I charge you with weakness, finding you unwilling to lead your people in this cause, and with impropriety for failing to carry out Sekolah’s war against the surface dwellers.”
The Royal Black Tridents closed in with their weapons raised, ready to chop Iakhovas down.
“As is my right,” Iakhovas said, ignoring the weapons raised against him, “I claim blood challenge on behalf of the Great Shark.”
Angrily, Huaanton waved his guards aside, brave enough to do so even in the face of the kraken as the gigantic creature cracked the bodies of his guards above him. “You lie,” the sahuagin king said, taking a step forward, “and your death shall prove those lies.”
“Your death,” Iakhovas promised, “will prove your weakness and your failing.”
Without warning, Huaanton exploded into action. He reversed the trident and thrust the cruel tines at Iakhovas.
Laaqueel watched helplessly as Iakhovas was caught off-guard. She didn’t think such a thing was possible after having seen him in action against their enemies, but she remembered how she’d found him, trapped by magic and nearly dead. The scars were mute testimony that he wasn’t as infallible as he acted.
The trident tines sank into Iakhovas’s chest, drawing a spurting, murky cloud of blood. He screamed in enraged pain and reached for the trident’s haft as Huaanton tried to shove it more deeply into him.
Watching on, Laaqueel knew it was a death blow. The tines had no doubt torn through Iakhovas’s heart and only seconds remained before death claimed him. The black quill next to her heart quivered in response, signaling a cold flush of nausea that ran through the malenti. She wondered how tightly the quill tied to her Iakhovas, and whether she would die when he did.
A bloody grin warped Iakhovas’s face, and touched even the dark hollow of his missing eye. He stood his ground and hooked his fingers between the trident’s tines. Muscle rippled along his arms as he shoved the weapon back and pulled the barbed tines free.
Though the misting blood partially obscured her view, Laaqueel watched as the gaping wounds on Iakhovas’s chest pulled back together, knitting the flesh, sinew, and bone. The ring she’d first placed on his finger when she’d discovered him glowed briefly, and she doubted that anyone but her saw it.
“Weak,” Iakhovas taunted in a ragged voice that almost belied the injuries he’d sustained. He maintained his hold on the trident even against Huaanton’s great strength.
The Royal Black Tridents stood back, unable to interfere in a blood challenge. It was one of the most sacred of the sahuagin practices.
Huaanton lifted a webbed foot and lashed out with the razor-edged talons on his toes. He ripped gouges across Iakhovas’s face, narrowly missing his eye.
Fearful then, obviously in high regard of his remaining vision, Iakhovas reluctantly released the trident and stepped back. Still, the confident look never left his face as he set himself for another attack.
&nb
sp; Huaanton launched himself up into the water, rising above Iakhovas. He was well within the kraken’s reach, and Laaqueel knew the sahuagin king was no coward. He kept the trident before him. “Come, Iakhovas, come join me in our dance of death. Let the tides decide our fates.”
Iakhovas leaped after the sahuagin king without hesitation. He eeled through the water with grace and speed that was totally unexpected. He slipped long-bladed knives from his belt and held them point down from his fists. Huaanton thrust the trident at him again. Iakhovas blocked the effort with one of the knives, then lashed out at the sahuagin king’s midsection with the other.
Huaanton had to move quickly, but the knife slid harmlessly by. Before Iakhovas could recover, Huaanton swung a backhand at him filled with claws. Iakhovas got his arm up in time to save his face, but the claws sank deeply into his flesh, slashing to the bone. He maintained his grip on the knife, though, and brought it down and across in a move designed to disembowel the sahuagin king. The knife blade tracked a bloody furrow across Huaanton’s stomach, but it wasn’t deep enough to spill his guts.
Spreading the webs between his toes, Huaanton cut through the water, streaking behind Iakhovas. The sahuagin king levered an arm under Iakhovas’s chin and popped his finger claws out. Before Huaanton could drag his claws across Iakhovas’s throat, Iakhovas slashed the back of the sahuagin king’s forearm, cutting through the ligaments that controlled the claws and fingers. Huaanton’s claws recessed and his fingers unbent.
Iakhovas broke free of his opponent’s grip while Huaanton was stunned by the severity of the wound he’d been dealt. If Iakhovas had used his magic, Laaqueel knew, the fight wouldn’t have lasted this long.
Still in motion, Iakhovas swam around Huaanton. As the sahuagin twisted to confront him, Iakhovas drove one of his knives home between Huaanton’s ribs, trying for the heart. He left the knife in place, and foggy blood spewed out into the water.
Even wounded as he was, Huaanton didn’t give up. Laaqueel felt pride fill her as she watched the sahuagin king. Despite the fact that he didn’t trust in Sekolah as he should, she felt Huaanton epitomized everything that was strong and good about the sahuagin.
Lashing out with the trident, Huaanton caught Iakhovas in the legs. He put enough force behind the blow to send the tines completely through one leg just below the knee, then nailed it to the other. With both legs pinned together, Iakhovas couldn’t move to escape Huaanton’s attack.
The sahuagin king pulled on the trident’s haft, not hard enough to rip the barbed ends free of Iakhovas’s flesh, but enough to turn Iakhovas in the water. Moving quickly, his fighting skill apparent in the economical grace he used, Huaanton yanked the blade from his side, then buried it deep in Iakhovas’s back.
The kraken fluttered in the water. For a moment Laaqueel thought the creature was going to interfere in the battle. If it did, it would undermine everything Iakhovas hoped to win.
Don’t count me out of the running yet, little malenti. Iakhovas’s pain-wracked voice filled Laaqueel’s mind. Torn between a king who refused to give as much credence to Sekolah as the Great Shark demanded and a mysterious being she’d inadvertently staked her future on, Laaqueel instead turned to her prayers.
Iakhovas tried to reach the knife in his back but couldn’t. He struggled to free his legs but didn’t seem capable of that either.
Even though he still bled copiously, Huaanton’s combat instincts took over. He held the trident at arm’s length and pinned Iakhovas to the stone floor of the amphitheater below him. He whipped the barbed net from his side, spreading it out with a quick, practiced snap. He threw it and the weighted ends flared out to encompass his struggling foe. He wrapped Iakhovas expertly, pulling the net tight so that the embedded barbs bit deeply into his flesh.
“Now,” Huaanton warned as he turned to grasp the trident’s haft more firmly, “now we’ll see whose truth speaks more strongly.” He yanked the barbed tines free of Iakhovas’s legs, pulling a roiling boil of blood and shredded flesh after them. Gripping the trident, the sahuagin king held the haft in both hands high over his head, preparing to run it down into Iakhovas’s chest.
The black quill next to Laaqueel’s heart stilled its beating, froze the cycle of water through her gills. She wanted to scream in denial, but she couldn’t honestly say if it was because Iakhovas’s doom looked imminent, or if it was the grin on Iakhovas’s face, so filled with fiery cunning.
Huaanton brought the trident down, arcing it fiercely. Iakhovas’s movement was so swift that Laaqueel almost didn’t see it. He thrust his right hand out, pushing against the constricting strands of the barbed net. His hand and arm blurred, becoming something else that was hard and sharp. The wedge-shaped appendage slashed easily through the net and plunged on into Huaanton’s trachea and air bladder.
The impact staggered Huaanton’s own attempt to stab the trident into Iakhovas. His life’s blood poured out of him in a rush, flowing from the huge hole Iakhovas’s blow had made.
When Laaqueel blinked again, Iakhovas’s arm was back to normal. He fought the net as Huaanton’s body went limp in the water near him. Barbs wrenched free of his flesh, leaving bloody tears behind. The malenti knew the effort hurt him; she felt part of his pain through the quill’s magic that connected them.
Silence reigned over the amphitheater as the sahuagin spectators waited to see what would happen next.
Still only partially free of the ensnaring net, Iakhovas regained his feet and turned to face the amphitheater. He reached out and seized the trident from Huaanton’s dead hand. He held it proudly thrust above him as the kraken spread out its tentacles and formed a loose but protective embrace around him, guarding his back.
“My people,” Iakhovas said in a strong voice, “you have seen the Great Shark’s will today. By right of blood challenge, and by right of Sekolah’s ordained destiny for We Who Eat in our battle against the surface world to reclaim the seas, I name myself king! Let any who disagree with that stand and face me now!”
Laaqueel stared at the sahuagin, knowing none would come forward to stand against Iakhovas in his weakened condition. Sahuagin custom dictated against taking advantage of a wounded member of their community even for a blood challenge.
The response started, low at first, then continuing to gain power as the decision swept through the crowd. “Iakhovas, Exalted One of We Who Eat. Iakhovas, Exalted One of We Who Eat.”
Iakhovas turned and grinned at Laaqueel. Ah, little malenti, do you see the greatness we have wrought? We forge our new destinies from this point on. You and I, both castaways, have risen to the greatest positions among the largest and fiercest sahuagin in the Claarteeros Sea. No one may stop us now. No one!
If it is what Sekolah wills, she replied.
His single eye burned into hers. You have doubts?
Not in the Great Shark. Perhaps in myself.
Then, little malenti, when you find yourself too weak to believe in yourself, believe in me. Iakhovas raised both hands above his head, holding the trident proudly. “I am king!” he roared. “None shall stand against us. The surface world shall quake in fear of We Who Eat, for they shall surely come to know that only their deaths await them in the seas we claim!”
The sahuagin cheered him, and Laaqueel watched as the fervor gripped her people. There was no turning back now, she knew. Iakhovas wouldn’t allow it, and now he controlled everything.
“And our next victory,” Iakhovas declared, “shall be at Baldur’s Gate!”
The cheering rose in thunderous approval again.
Turning, Iakhovas hacked Huaanton’s body to pieces and gave them up to the currents around him. The sahuagin surged from their seats, swimming to him rapidly to take part in devouring their last king.
“Come,” Iakhovas invited as he continued to slash at the dwindling corpse. “We must be strong for our coming battles. Meat is meat!”
II
3 Mirtul, the Year of the Gauntlet
“You’re pushi
ng yourself too hard, old friend. If I could, I’d like to talk you out of this present course of action.”
Taranath Reefglamor, senior High Mage of Serôs, the undersea world in the region known as the Sea of Fallen Stars, glanced at his companion and pierced him with his barbed gaze. Over the centuries, the look he gave the younger man was reputed to have withered even past Coronals who’d ruled over the sea elven kingdom where he lived. “If I’d wanted your counsel, Pharom Ildacer, I trust you know that I’d have requested it. As I’d have asked you to address me so casually, as if the station I’ve worked so hard to attain didn’t matter.”
Ildacer’s round face blanched and his posture suddenly straightened. “Yes, Senior Reefglamor. If I’ve erred in any way, I offer my deepest apologies.”
“Offer all you may,” Reefglamor replied, “you cannot take back words once spoken. I know you learned that at my knee.”
Inclining his head, Ildacer said, “It is indeed as you say, Senior Reefglamor.”
Reefglamor leaned back in his chair, trying to find comfort in the seaweed padding it seemed he couldn’t live without these days. He looked old and wizened, ravaged by time’s ceaseless hand and the battles he’d undertaken while defending his people. The studies he’d conducted to become senior mage had been no less strenuous.
He possessed the thin build, pointed chin and pointed ears exhibited by so many of the alu’tel’quessir. The blue skin with white patches further marked him with his sea elven heritage. His silver-white hair was bound back by a beaten gold circlet with carved glyphs and hung down nearly to his waist. Though shrouded by fatigue and red lines that seemed more like scars these days, his dark green eyes never wavered. He wore a pale blue diaphanous silken weave that bore the purple and black stripes of his office and the crystal clear dolphin that was the chosen symbol of Deep Sashelas for those few who didn’t immediately know him by sight.
