Evermeet: Island of Elves (single books)

by Elaine Cunningham

  "I don't suppose you have decent maps and star charts," she muttered.

  Vhoori suppressed a smile. "As to that, you may judge for yourself. My library is at your disposal. Star charts we have, but it may well be that you can greatly improve them. Certainly, you have an insight that no one on Evermeet can equal. Your work will guide elven ships for many centuries to come." He paused, as if beset by sudden doubt. "That is, if you can captain a ship upon the water. It is easier, I would think, to sail through the endless void than to deal with matters of tides and winds."

  The captain's eyes kindled. "I was walking the deck of sea-going ships when you were still in nappies, and furthermore-"

  She broke off suddenly, for the mage had dissolved into ringing laughter. Realizing that she was being teased-and more importantly, that he had deliberately reminded her of a time and a work that she had loved-Mariona gave him a grudging smile.

  "Now that you mention it, I wouldn't mind sailing these waters myself!"

  With these words, she caught up one of the many globes that showed a sea-scape and tossed it playfully to the mage. Vhoori caught it, glanced down. His eyes widened, and he returned his gaze to the image within.

  "Well, indeed. It would seem that my gift to Darthoridan Craulnober was fortunately timed," he murmured.

  Curious, Mariona rose and came to look over Vhoori's shoulder into the globe. Within the magical sphere she saw the image of a ship, crystal-grown like an elven man-o-war. The sails, which glowed with multicolored light, hung slack, flapping helplessly in the gathering wind despite the efforts of the elven sailors who labored at the ropes. Another cluster of elves gathered at the stern, firing upon the enormous creature that nudged and prodded the boat out into an odd, unnatural band of turbulence. The creature, by all appearances a titanic turtle, was odd enough. But stranger still-at least to Mariona's eyes-was the invisible boundary that abruptly separated the calm sea from the storm.

  "The dragon turtle wishes to destroy the ship," Vhoori reasoned. He did not sound particularly displeased.

  "Not so," the captain said. "Just look at the size of that thing! It could shatter a crystal hull with a few swats of its tail. And I'd be willing to bet my favorite dagger that this dragon has other weapons worth using."

  "Its breath," Vhoori admitted. "If the dragon turtle wished to do so, it could send a scalding cloud of steam over the ship that would certainly kill most of the crew."

  "And likely damage the ship, as well," Mariona retorted. "That's not its intent."

  "What, then?" the mage demanded, not liking the direction that her reasoning was taking.

  The captain tapped the globe with one finger. "Three ships," she said, indicating three specks of heat and color in the distant seas. "My guess is, these people want your ship. The dragon turtle is in alliance with them-or more likely, they're both answering to whoever sent this wizard weather."

  "This is no wizard's work," Vhoori mused as he studied intently the storm raging within the globe. Already the ships that Mariona's sharp eyes had discerned were coming fully into sight. They were long and low, each bearing a single large, square sail. Vhoori had seen such ships before. They belonged to pirates from the north, primitive humans who lacked the sort of magic needed to create such a storm.

  There was only one explanation for such a gale: It was the work of Umberlee herself. For whatever reason, the capricious goddess had made the raiders' purpose her own.

  By her power, every bit of speed had been coaxed from the sturdy little ships. The sails were tightly curved and as full of wind as they could be without rending under the force. Even the masts seemed to be bent almost to the breaking point.

  "Raiders, I'll warrant. They want to capture the elven ship unharmed," Mariona said, answering Vhoori's question before he could put words to it. "It will be easier for them to slip past Evermeet's defenses in an elven ship, to strike at other ships or even to raid coastal towns."

  "This we cannot allow," Vhoori said. He raised his gaze to Mariona Leafbower's eyes, and saw grim determination reflected back as if from a mirror.

  "You promised me a ship. I can sail those waters," she said, nodding toward the globe and its image of wild seas.

  "No doubt," Vhoori responded. "But we could never reach the elven ship in time to bring aid. At least, not by sea. Come." He turned and strode quickly from the tower room.

  The elf woman's brow furrowed with puzzlement. Then Vhoori's meaning came to her, and a fierce smile set flame to her eyes. She fell into step beside the mage. "You said 'we.' You're coming in to battle?"

  "This night Evermeet's first starwing ship will take its maiden flight," the mage said. "Who better to take the helm?"

  The captain nodded. "Good. You've got more power than any helmsman I've sailed with. But remember, I'm the captain and this battle is mine. Do you think you remember how to take orders?"

  "That is not my strongest skill," he said dryly. "But yes, this battle is yours to fight-and mine to win."

  Mariona cast a sharp, sidelong glance at the mage. She did not care who got the credit for this victory. The prospect of walking again upon the deck of an airborne ship was enough for her. But there was an odd note in Vhoori's voice that she disliked and mistrusted. More was brewing than an eminent battle against a dragon turtle, a trio of human pirate ships, and an angry sea goddess-as if that wasn't enough!

  To steady her nerves, Mariona brought to mind one of her favorite maxims: "If it were easy, it wouldn't be worth doing," she muttered. By that token, or so the elven captain strongly suspected, her night's work would be worthwhile indeed.

  As Anarzee swam desperately toward her beloved's ship, a large, moon-cast shadow fell over her. Another followed swiftly. The Sea elf paused in her headlong race just long enough to glance up as the third ship swept past her.

  Human ships. The Sea elf had seen such ships before, and knew well what manner of human sailed them.

  "Pirates," she murmured, sending a rift of bubbles floating up into the troubled sea.

  The dragon turtle's part in this was now apparent. Since no human ship could pass unbidden through the magical barriers surrounding Evermeet, the pirates had made a bargain with the sea monster. Anarzee wondered what the humans had offered the dragon turtle in exchange for delivery of the elven ship. Treasure, most likely, for the promise of elves to devour was a hollow one-if that had been the dragon turtle's only purpose, the creature could surely have carried it out without the aid of human pirates.

  Anarzee twisted in the water and swam upward with quick, powerful strokes. Her head broke the surface and she bobbed there in the turbulent waters as she took stock of the situation.

  The elven warriors aboard Sea-Riven fought desperately against their gigantic foe. Magic was not a viable solution, not at such close range. Any spells powerful enough to hurt the creature would almost certainly destroy the ship, as well. Their arrows, even the huge ballista bolts, merely bounced off the dragon turtle's armor. Any vulnerable areas the creature possessed were hidden beneath the waves.

  As if his thoughts echoed Anarzee's, Darthoridan vaulted over the rail of the ship and plunged down toward the monstrous turtle. In his hand was a long metal tube, from which protruded the barbed tip of a spear. A second spear was strapped to his back.

  Anarzee caught her breath; Darthoridan's attack was a brave and desperate move. The turtle's shell was a mass of ridges and spikes, and Darthoridan might as well have been leaping headlong into a mass of braced and ready weapons.

  But Darthoridan came up onto his feet and at once began to pick his way along the spiny center ridge of the shell, heading for the creature's head.

  A small cry of relief escaped the Sea elf. Darthoridan's shoulder was bleeding badly, but at least he had survived the leap. She began to swim for the dragon turtle, never once taking her eyes from the brave warrior she loved.

  Just then the dragon turtle butted the ship again. The impact cost Darthoridan his footing; the elf stumbled and roll
ed painfully down the bumpy curve of the creature's back. He slammed into one of the ridges that lined the edge of the shell. Not bothering to rise, he began to work his away around the macabre island, using the ridges as handholds, toward the opening from which protruded the massive front leg.

  Anarzee nodded grimly. The harpoon Darthoridan carried could fire with considerable force. If he could get a clear shot through the folds of tough, leathery skin of the dragon turtle's leg, he could pierce the creature's heart.

  Even wounded, Darthoridan moved quickly. In moments he'd reached his target. Hooking his feet around one bony ridge, he lowered himself and his harpoon into the water. The Sea elf's keen ears caught the sharp click of the harpoon's release, carried to her by the water.

  A terrible roar split the night. The dragon turtle reared like an angry stallion and then wheeled about, swinging its massive head this way and that as it searched for the source of the attack. Its yellow eyes fell upon the elf clinging to the edge of its shell. The reptilian orbs narrowed with malevolence, and the turtle's head craned back, jaws snapping. But Darthoridan had rolled back onto the shell, and was scrambling to the center where he was well out of reach.

  The dragon turtle changed tactics and went into a roll. Once, twice, the pale armor of its belly glinted in the moonlight as it tried to rid itself of the troublesome elf. The creature's spin created twin surges of water that caught the elven vessel and carried it ever closer to the turbulent sea-and the rapidly approaching pirates.

  Anarzee wailed and swam all the faster, though she knew there was little she could do. Once Darthoridan was cast into the water, the sea creature could finish him off with a single snap.

  But when the turtle righted itself, the elven warrior clung to the center ridge of the shell, stubborn as a barnacle. He could not do so for long, however; a wash of bright blood mingled with the water that flowed down the slope of the creature's shell. No warrior could ignore such wounds forever.

  Suddenly the sea around Anarzee went still. The unnatural winds eased off, and the surging, white-capped waves sank into the sea, sending small restless ripples skittering off. Anarzee heard the guttural shouts of surprise as pirates trimmed their sails to adjust for the diminishing wind. They no longer needed such wind, Anarzee noted, for they would soon be upon Darthoridan's ship.

  For a moment the Sea elf knew despair. As she gazed out over the quieting sea, inspiration struck her, as clearly as if the voice of Deep Sashales whispered in her ear.

  Without the marker provided by the restless waves, the humans had no way of telling where the dangerous shields lay!

  The Sea-elven priestess began to chant a clerical spell, praying for an illusion that would turn the serene waters surrounding Evermeet into a mirror-a mirror that would reflect the still-choppy waves of Umberlee's storm.

  Anarzee completed her spell and then dived deep-a heartbeat before one of the pirate ships blundered into the magical barrier.

  A flare of light transformed the dying night into midday, and turned the ship into a torch. The Sea elf plunged downward to escape the sudden heat, and to avoid the flailing limbs of the pirates who had survived the first blast and who had leaped-or been thrown-into the water.

  The boom and crackle of the fire, the bellowing of the angry dragon turtle, the thrashing of the wounded humans-these things filled Anarzee's senses like a chorus of triumphant music. Too late she caught the vibrations that bespoke a new presence in the waters nearby. Instinctively she twisted to one side-just as a sleek gray form brushed past her.

  For a moment Anarzee thought the dolphin had returned to join the battle. But the rough hide that rasped painfully against her arm could belong to only one creature. The sharks, drawn by the commotion of battle and the scent of spilled blood, had come to feed.

  Anarzee drew a knife from her belt and dived deeper still. She slashed off a length of kelp and quickly bound the arm that had been abraded by the brush with the shark. There was not much blood, nor would there be, but even a few drops in the water around her could mean her death. At the moment, the sharks were driven to a frenzy by the abundance before them. They would be busy with the pirates for quite some time. But few sharks ever became so sated that they would forbear to hunt their favorite food: a wounded Sea elf.

  She placed the knife between her teeth and swam up to the enormous shapes silhouetted against the burning sky. The dragon turtle had turned its attention back to the elven ship, and was nudging it relentlessly toward the open sea-and the two ships that awaited the prize. A thin line of blood streamed into the water from behind the creature's leg, diminishing even as Anarzee drew near. Darthoridan's shot had done little more than nick the turtle's hide. It fell to her to do better.

  The Sea elf lunged for the enormous tail. She caught hold of the tip, then pulled herself against the tail and wrapped her legs around it as tightly as she could. With one hand, she took her knife from between her teeth and drove it deep into the tail. She pulled it down with all her strength, tearing a gash in the hide.

  Again the dragon turtle roared, a terrible sound that reverberated through the water and even created a lull in the sharks' grim feasting. Anarzee held on as the tail lashed fiercely back and forth through the water. When this method did not avail, the turtle raised the tail above the water and flicked it upward with one quick, hard motion. The Sea elf released her hold, letting the momentum throw her up onto the turtle's spiked shell.

  She was not so fortunate as Darthoridan. Waves of agony swept through her as she slammed facedown onto the bony ridge. But she tore herself upright, off the short spike that grated against her hip bone, and came up onto her hands and knees. Ignoring as best she could the searing, numbing pain, she forced herself to look at the wound. There was blood, far too much of it. In a shark-infested sea, such a wound would prove mortal-of that she had no doubt. But perhaps she could survive long enough to complete the task before her.

  Still on her knees, the Sea elf made her way over to where Darthoridan lay. He was hurt worse than she had first thought, and near to losing consciousness. She slapped and shouted and pleaded until at last his eyes focused on her.

  "Anarzee," he whispered. "Oh, my poor, lost love. There are so many things I must say…"

  "No time," she told him grimly. With one torn hand, she gestured toward the elven ship. It had passed the barrier, and pirates swarmed up onto its crystal decks. "The humans must not have this ship! You know what use will be made of it."

  A female's scream, shrill with pain and terror, rang out over the sounds of battle. Darthoridan swore bitterly as two of the humans dragged a struggling elf woman up from the hold. The elf woman's bright gown, the circlet of summer flowers hanging askew in her tangled hair, left little doubt in Anarzee's mind as to her identity.

  Darthoridan struggled to his feet, but he did not immediately go to his new wife's aid. He seized the harpoon and thrust a second spear into the metal tube. As clearly as if he spoke his thoughts aloud, Anarzee knew what was in his mind. His first task was to keep the ship in elven hands. As long as the dragon turtle lived, the ship was lost. The Sea elf looked down into the churning sea, where the sharks were still avidly feeding. No land-dwelling elf was nimble enough in water to avoid them. If Darthoridan tried again to stop the dragon turtle, he would surely be dead, and his efforts would be for nothing.

  Anarzee seized the harpoon with her one good hand. "Go," she demanded, nodding toward the rope ladder that the pirates had draped down the ship's crystal hull.

  "You are hurt," he protested, noting at last the blood that stained her mottled skin.

  "I am dying," she said simply. "Go, and let me die well. You must save the ship, and the People upon it."

  Before Darthoridan could respond, the Sea elf scrambled down the turtle's shell and dived into the water. The Moon elf took a long, shuddering breath and made his way up to the shell just behind the turtle's head. Although the creature's task was done-the elven ship had been herded beyond the magical shi
elds-it remained nearby, circling the ship like a waiting shark.

  Darthoridan waited until the creature circled back around to the place where the pirates' boarding ladder hung. He leaped, catching the lower rungs as he fell. The pain as he slammed into the crystal hull was nearly overwhelming, as was the dull throb in his torn shoulder. But he pulled himself up and rolled over the rail onto the ship.

  Battle, bloody and fierce, raged all around him. As the elves fought for their lives. But Darthoridan's comrades were no army-just a few friends and kindred who had accompanied the newly wed couple on the northward trip.

  The ship lurched suddenly as a rolling wave caught it. Darthoridan seized the rail to steady himself, and suddenly found he was eye-to-eye with the dragon turtle. The creature's eyes were frantic, and its gigantic mouth was flung wide, held open by the harpoon imbedded in the roof of its mouth. It could not shut its jaws without driving the weapon up and into its brain.

  Even as he took note of this, Darthoridan saw the slender, webbed hands clutching at the base of the spear. Anarzee had not gotten off a killing shot, but the determined Sea elf would bring down her quarry even if that meant swimming into its mouth! For a moment he knew hope-Anarzee had wedged the spear in securely, and perhaps she would consider her task done and escape into the water. Even as the thought formed, a cloud of steam puffed from the dragon's mouth, turning crimson as it caught the light of the rising sun. The dragon turtle let out a garbled roar and tossed its head high. Anarzee's limp hands slid from the spear, disappeared down into the crimson mist.

  Darthoridan dashed a hand across his tear-blinded eyes and turned to face the battle before him. One of the pirate ships had emptied its human cargo onto the deck of Sea-Riven, and another was closing in. The elves would soon be overwhelmed.

  A silver streak shot down from the clouds toward the approaching ship. Darthoridan gaped as a ballista bolt struck and splintered the ship's single mast. The beam fell, smashing one side of the wooden ship and covering the pirates in a shroud of canvas.