Realms of the Deep a-7

by Lynn Abbey

  Narros took Thraxos's arm and guided him to the edge of the chamber. Beyond the door, seaweed eddied and swirled with the currents.

  "It has been long rumored among our people that to the south of Waterdeep, in the depths of the cliffs that line the shores, there may be found passages that join in some waterway leading beneath the land. Perhaps in one of those passages you may find a dimensional gate to our brethren in the Sea of Fallen Stars. You must do the best you can. We are depending on you."

  Thraxos's mouth twisted. Depending. Thraxos was nothing if not dependable. Not heroic. Not dashing. Not brilliant. Just… dependable.

  And now, to be sent by Narros on this hopeless mission…

  After traveling south from Waterdeep, Thraxos had scoured the coastal cliffs for two days. For two solid days he had swum back and forth, probing caverns, exploring crannies, hoping each would be the one to lead him to the underwater way to Seros.

  All had proved false.

  He had begun to think that the old legends were but garbled tales of a far-off past in which perhaps such a passage had existed, only to be destroyed in some gargantuan upheaval that tossed about sea and land alike.

  Now the rocks beneath the sea's edge loomed up before him again, black and forbidding. They reared themselves into a great cliff, fifty feet high. About halfway up was a black spot.

  Another cave.

  With a sigh, Thraxos shot upward. The cave door was roughly ten feet wide, worn smooth by the passage of the tides. Its sides were cloaked in mossy growth that wavered in the pale light that shone about the entrance from the sunlight streaming from above. Thraxos entered, his body adjusting to the sudden chill of the waters around him. The passage was pitch black, and Thraxos felt his way cautiously along its sides, which were rough and irregular. Once or twice he felt an empty space on one side or another, as if the main passage had intersected with smaller ways, but he continued to follow the large tunnel.

  The tunnel bent sharply to the right, and Thraxos, bending with it, encountered a cold surface in front of him. Rock. Another dead end.

  He almost wept with anger and despair. In a rage, he slammed his hand against the side of the passage.

  Something gave way under the blow. The blocking wall, on which he had rested one hand, fell back, and the water around him leaped forward into the narrow tunnel beyond. Thraxos had barely time to put his hands above his head and make himself as thin as possible before the current swept him into the opening.

  The water propelled him along the tunnel with increasing speed. He could feel the rush of movement all around him, yet he was helpless to control his progress. Instinctively he knew that the way had widened somewhat. The water carrying him grew faster and rougher, and several times he was banged against the walls of the passage. He smelled blood in the water and knew it was his own. Once or twice his head struck against the walls of the passage. He felt as if he had lost consciousness, but he could not be sure. When he opened his eyes, everything was exactly the same as it had been: the same hurtling motion, the same blur of water and walls around him.

  Faster and faster. Now he had no conception of the speed at which he was traveling. His body felt as if it were being stretched before and behind, as if he were being pulled to an infinite thinness that could only end with him shattering into a myriad of pieces.

  From ahead of him came a dim light that grew stronger. Suddenly the rocky walls fell away, and space and light surrounded him.

  He looked behind him. A shaft in the dark wall was slowly closing by some unseen mechanism. In a moment the edges ground together with a resounding boom, and the rocky wall looked as impervious as the barrier he'd encountered on the other side of the passage.

  How far have I come, he wondered, and where in all Faerun am I?

  As far as a preliminary look could tell him, he was in a shallow lake of some sort. Twenty or thirty feet above, the surface was flooded with light, almost blinding to him after the darkness of the passageway. He rose toward it, and hi a moment his head burst above the water.

  Nearby was the shore against which soft waves were lapping, while dark firs ringed the water. Their tops whispered softly together and made a kind of accompaniment to the sound of weeping.

  Thraxos looked about. Some ten yards beyond the water's edge was an overturned caravan. Smoke smoldered from the ashes of a nearby campfire, while various bags and bundles were scattered roughly about the ground. They had been torn open and the contents plundered-by human robbers, Thraxos suspected. In his travels along the shores of the Sword Coast he'd seen enough to realize the extent of human barbarity practiced against other humans. But where was the crying coming from?

  A young girl, scarcely more than eight or nine, her golden hair twisted around a tear-stained face, sat next to two of the bundles. They were bigger and more compact than the others, and it took Thraxos a moment to realize they weren't bundles after all but bodies. From where he floated on the water's surface, he could see the rivulets of red that ran along the stony ground from beneath them and found then- meandering way to the waters of the lake.

  Thraxos had little interest in the details of the affair, but he urgently needed to know where his unexpected journey had brought him.

  "Hey," he called softly.

  The crying did not cease, so he tried again. "Hey, there!"

  Now the girl lifted her face from her hands and looked about wildly, fear suffusing her face. Thraxos flipped his tail and glided up against the rocks that ringed the lake.

  "Girl… where am I?"

  She stared at him, her eyes wide, then a fresh storm of sorrow seized her. She threw herself on the mossy ground, kicking her heels, screaming and wailing.

  "Stop it!" Thraxos yelled. "Stop it at once, do you hear?"

  His voice, which contained every ounce of force he could put into it, seemed to shock her back to some semblance of calm. She sat up and rubbed her eyes with grubby fists.

  "Where am I?" Thraxos asked again.

  "Mummy and Daddy are…" Her voice trailed off, and she looked as if she might burst into tears again.

  Thraxos's scales itched with impatience, but he tried to keep his voice even. "Yes. I'm sorry. Were you attacked?"

  She bobbed her head. "Robbers. Mummy told me to hide under the bed in the wagon. I did, and I heard Daddy yelling. Then Mummy screamed, and then the robbers were laughing, and then the wagon fell over and I was under the bed. I almost couldn't breathe. I don't remember anything else for a while. Then I crawled out, and Mummy and Daddy…" She began sobbing again, punctuated by hiccups.

  Some part of Thraxos's mind noted that bein knocked unconscious had probably saved the girl's lif The robbers had evidently been in too much of a hun to search the caravan thoroughly. They'd ransacke what they could easily find and fled, leaving the bodic of their victims for whatever scavengers prowled th; land.

  The girl had finished her crying and was now lool ing at him more calmly. "Are you a ghost?"

  "What?"

  "Are you a ghost?" Her tone was matter of fac "Mummy told me this grove and this lake wer haunted. We wanted to get through here quickly, bi our horse went away and we had to wait before gettin a new one."

  Thraxos realized that she had no idea of his tru nature. All she saw was the head and shoulders of man protruding above the water. He shook his hea‹ "No, child, I am no ghost. I do not even know where am. Can you tell me?"

  This is the Frahalish Grove."

  The name meant nothing to Thraxos. "How far ar we from Seros?"

  She said nothing, but looked puzzled. Clearly th name meant nothing to her.

  Thraxos remembered Narros calling the sea b some other name, the name the surface dwellers i Waterdeep had used. What was it?

  The… Sea of… Falling… Fallen Stars. That's i How far from here?"

  "A long way." She shook her tresses briskly. "A lonj long, long way. We were going to Cormyr. Daddy tol me we wouldn't get there for days and days an days."

&nb
sp; Thraxos looked around him. The lake was really not much more than an extended pond. The far shore, rocky and looking very much like that against which he leaned, was not more than a mile away. He sighed inwardly and tried again.

  "How far are we from the Sword Coast?"

  She considered gravely. "Ever so far. My Uncle Aelias lives in Waterdeep, and we never see him because Daddy says it's too far away to travel."

  Thraxos's heart sank. The passage he'd been through, though evidently not a gate in the precise meaning of the word, had deposited him at incredible speed in this lake in the middle of-nowhere. He was trapped here as surely as if he'd swum into a fisherman's net. The passage behind him was blocked. There might, of course, be an exit elsewhere in the lake, but the gods only knew where it would take him.

  The girl was watching him with solemn eyes. "Why don't you come out of the water?" she asked abruptly.

  Thraxos ignored the question, and she asked it again more loudly. He turned back to her with a sigh. "Because I cannot. I am a merman."

  Her mouth fell open, and several high-pitched squeaks emerged before she got her voice.

  "Really? I've never seen a merman. My Uncle Aelias says there are mermen who live near Waterdeep and who help protect it. My friend Andriana says that if you catch a merman by his tail he'll give you three wishes, but I don't think I believe that. I mean, if you caught a merman by the tail you'd have to swim faster than him, and no one can do that, because everyone knows that merfolk swim faster than anything, even than fishes, but I don't know about that because I had a pet fish once, its name was Berf-"

  "Silence, child!" Thraxos roared. His head was splitting. The little girl stared at him in astonishment for a moment, then burst into tears again.

  "Oh, for Tyre's sake!" Thraxos flipped his tail impatiently. "Child, I did not mean to be angry, but you must understand, I have an urgent message to be delivered to the ruler of our people in the Sea of Fallen Stars. The fate of all Faerun may easily depend upon it, but now I do not see how I am to accomplish this mission."

  Bile rose in his throat. "They trusted me! They depended on me. I have let them down. That is what they will say of me! They will say Thraxos was given an important task, and he failed miserably. No one ever even found his body. He was lost somewhere in the distant waters of-'"

  "Wait!"

  The little girl had stopped crying and was looking at him again, her eyes large. "Why don't we take a mount?"

  Thraxos shook his head. The pounding behind his eyes grew stronger. He plunged his head beneath the surface, drawing a deep breath of water before returning to the surface. "What do you mean, child? I have no mount, and even had I the fastest dolphin in existence, it could no more get out of this lake than I can. No, the matter is lost. I shall linger here, despairing, while songs are sung up and down the Sword Coast of my sad fate, and-"

  The girl, whose eyes had been wandering about the lake during this peroration, suddenly interrupted. "Why don't you ride a horse?"

  Thraxos stared at her, dumfounded by her stupidity. Then, in the voice he might use to address a simpleton, he said patiently, "I cannot ride a horse. I have told you, I am a merman. How would I mount? Besides, a horse would travel far too slowly. I must be in water every hour or so, or I will die. Breathing is difficult for me after even a few minutes. You see-"

  The girl shook her head impatiently. "No, no. Not a regular horse-a flying horse. They travel much faster, and you could see lakes from the air. You could take a bath in them and feel ever so much better."

  Thraxos snorted. "And where, pray tell, would I get a flying horse?"

  The girl nodded solemnly. "Wait there a minute." She dashed over to the wreckage of the wagon, dived beneath a jutting spar of wood, and rummaged energetically.

  Thraxos remained where he was, grumbling quietly to himself. An unnatural rustling in the leaves a hundred yards away startled him, and he wondered if the robbers might have come back.

  The girl returned, something long and slender clutched in her chubby fist. "It's Daddy's magic rod," she said calmly. "He used it to make a horse when ours died."

  Thraxos glanced at the wagon where the corpse of a slaughtered animal lay between the traces. The girl followed his gaze and shook her head. "Oh, no, not that one. We bought that one in town a long, long time ago. Last tenday, I think. But it wasn't a magical horse."

  In spite of himself, Thraxos was impressed. "What happened to the magic horse?" he asked.

  "It went away, but I can make another one."

  "Was your other magical horse a pegasus?" He saw her brow wrinkle in puzzlement and amended hastily, "A flying horse?"

  "No, but watch."

  She took the rod between both hands and pointed the end toward a dear spot of grass nearby. Thraxos saw that the rod was smooth, wooden, and had some sort of metal wire binding both ends. The girl closed her eyes and bowed her head in concentration. After a moment, Thraxos fancied he saw the end of the rod begin to glow. In another moment he was sure of it.

  With a startling suddenness a beam of white light shot from the end of the rod and spread across the grass. It brightened to an intense flash, and Thraxos blinked, spots swimming before his eyes.

  When he blinked, the spots went away. In their place was an enormous hedgehog, standing on the grass with an expression of vague surprise. From its shoulders sprouted two slender wings. They resembled those of an emaciated bat and were obviously inadequate to bear the animal's considerable weight. The hedgehog stretched its snout over its shoulder and subjected its unusual appendages to a prolonged snuffle. Having exhausted whatever interest they held, the creature examined its surroundings, grunted cynically, and set off for the woods at a gentle, though earth-shaking trot.

  Thraxos looked at the little girl in exasperation. "For goodness sakes, child, be careful. Objects like this usually have a limited number of charges. We cannot afford to waste any on foolish mistakes."

  She stared back, her lower lip thrust out in a pout.

  "Well, it's not my fault," she said. "I've never used it." She turned her back on him.

  The merman put out a hand. "Never mind. Better give it to me. Perhaps I'll have better luck with it."

  "No! It's mine! It belonged to my daddy." He could hear tears trembling at the edge of her voice.

  Thraxos made a careful effort to keep his voice calm.

  " Did your dadd-father tell you how many charges the rod contained?" — — .:

  She thought a moment, then said, "Three. That was it. He said we could use it three more times."

  Thraxos winced. "Very well, but you've already used one, so only two remain. Try again, and please try to get it right this time."

  She nodded and held the rod out before her again. This time Thraxos turned his head away as the light emanating from the rod grew brighter. When he turned back to the patch of grass, a magnificent white horse stood on it, quietly champing at the meadow. Folded along its back were a pair of the finest wings the merman had ever seen, surpassing even those of the pegasi that occasionally dipped and swooped above the skyline of the City of Splendors.

  The girl approached the animal without any trace of fear. It watched her with liquid eyes and bent its graceful neck toward her. She stroked it, patted its mane, and whispered softly in its ear. Then she looked at the merman.

  "Well, come on."

  He asked, amazed, "How do you know what to say to it?"

  She looked puzzled for a moment, then replied, "Whoever summons the creature controls it. That's what my daddy said." Daddy was evidently an oracle whose words were unquestioned.

  All the elation Thraxos had felt at seeing the magical appearance of this mount dissolved in an instant. He shook his locks despairingly. "How can I mount? How could I hold on for such a flight?"

  She considered the question gravely, then went back to the rubbish around the wagon, dived into a pile, and came up with a length of rope. With fingers remark ably sure in one so young, she twisted it int
o a rougl halter, which she cast about the unresisting pegasus She led the animal next to the rocks on which Thraxoi rested his arms, and handed him the end of the rope.

  "Catch hold of that and hang on."

  Before the merman had time to reply, she slappec the animal's rump. It backed suddenly and Thraxos was drawn in an instant from the water and lay flop ping absurdly on the dry, hard ground.

  The girl laughed, and Thraxos felt the blood rising to his cheeks. No merman feels more helpless than or dry land, and Thraxos was no exception.

  "What are you doing?" he shouted irritably at the child. Raising himself on his arms, he began struggling painfully back toward the inviting, cool waters of the lake.

  "No, no!" The girl caught him by the shoulder "Wait."

  She looked at him critically, from his majestically muscled torso, to his long, brilliantly scaled tail. Turning back to the pegasus she busied herself with the rope, hiding what she was doing with her body.

  Thraxos felt his lungs contract painfully. The sun scaled his tail, used to the cooling waters. He flicked il across the dry ground and marveled that humans and others could manage to exist on anything so unpleasant.

  There!"

  The girl stood back, and Thraxos could see she had fashioned a kind of rough harness that was suspended across the beast's side. He felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he asked, "What is that for?"

  "For you, silly!" In obedience to the girl's command, the flying horse trotted over to Thraxos and knelt beside him. "Now," said the girl, "catch hold of that rope"-she touched a dangling line-"and Freyala will pull you up. Ill bind the harness around you so you won't slip, and well be off."

  There were so many objections to this scheme that Thraxos had no time to voice them. The girl placed his fingers firmly around the rope. The pegasus-when had she named the damned thing, Thraxos wondered-rose, and Thraxos felt the lines of the harness gather around him, supporting him. The girl pulled another rope and the harness tightened around him.

  "There," she said triumphantly. "Comfy?"