Dargonesti lh-3

by Paul Thompson

  A party of eight was chosen to explore the island: Captain Esquelamar and three of his sailors, Vixa, Armantaro, Harmanutis, and Vanthanoris. Manneto was left in charge of the ship, and Paladithel put in command of the remaining warrior contingent.

  Although Armantaro and the other two warriors in the landing party had donned full battle dress, Vixa demurred, saying, “I’m only going to climb a hill, not fight a battle. Why should I wear armor in this heat?” She did, however, take along her fine Qualinesti sword.

  A section of the ship’s rail was removed, and supplies for the landing party lowered by rope to the raft. Vanthanoris and two sailors went down first, holding the raft steady by its mooring lines. The others followed. Below the waterline the hull was studded with razor-sharp barnacles. Deprived of water, the creatures made eerie clicking sounds as they gasped in the air.

  From the deck, Manneto called down, “How long will you be, Captain?”

  Esquelamar shaded his eyes, checking the position of the sun. It was perhaps two hours after dawn. “We’ll be back before sundown,” he called back.

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  With the captain at the raft’s plank rudder and the sailors and warriors on the oars, they set off for the unknown island that had risen from the bottom of the sea. And Vixa said a silent prayer to the Blue Phoenix, lord of the sea.

  Chapter 3

  Marooned

  The glare off the still water was harsh, though the sun was hours yet from its highest position. Gulls and other seabirds wheeled overhead, screeching in the steamy air. To shield her head, Vixa made a sort of short burnoose with her kerchief and a length of thong.

  The going was slow, as almost every dip of the oars struck bottom. Lurching from side to side, the raft made its way. Twenty paces from the shoreline, the raft ran aground. Captain Esquelamar pulled in the steering oar and called, “From here on, mates, we walk.”

  They piled out. The footing was firm. From their vantage point, they could see Evenstar high and dry, looking like a child’s toy left on the bank of a pond. Esquelamar shaded his eyes and scanned the low line of dunes left and right.

  “From the look of these ridges, I’d say the water drains off from a central point. There, I think,” he said, indicating the highest point on the island.

  They set off, Esquelamar and Vanthanoris leading. It was not a pleasant walk. The hollows between the sand ridges were full of stagnant pools, seaweed, and other debris. A foul stench rose up from this soupy mess. There was no way around it, only through.

  Vanthanoris drew farther and farther ahead of the rest of them. Suddenly, at the top of a ridge, he drew his sword and flung up his free hand.

  “Hold!” Vixa ordered. She, the colonel, and Harmanutis each dropped to one knee. Confused, Esquelamar and the sailors stood and stared.

  “Get down!” hissed Armantaro. They did so at last.

  Vanthanoris disappeared over the hill, sunlight flashing off his naked blade. A few tense minutes passed, then he came jogging back to his worried companions.

  “I saw movement,” he whispered. “To the northeast, yonder. Whatever it was, it disappeared behind some dunes. I ran forward, but all I found were tracks.”

  “What kind of tracks?” Vixa demanded.

  “Hard to tell. This ground doesn’t hold them well. Maybe a four-legged animal of some kind. Big, too,” Vanthanoris replied.

  “How big were the tracks?” Esquelamar asked.

  The elf warrior held his hands apart about sixteen inches.

  “Show us the trail,” Armantaro said, rising. In a flash, the agile Vanthanoris was loping up the hill. The others struggled through the sand after him.

  On the lee side of the ridge, they saw a line of prints starting on the left, southeast, and moving in a curve, paralleling the contour of the ridge.

  Harmanutis dropped on his stomach and sniffed the prints. “Saltwater,” he reported. “Whatever it is, it came out of the sea.”

  “A sea turtle?” suggested one of the sailors in a hopeful tone.

  “Nay,” Esquelamar said, dismissing the suggestion with a wave of his hand. “A turtle’s got flippers. This creature leaves a distinctive trail.”

  “Well, it went that way,” Vanthanoris said and started off again. His long legs covered the ground rapidly. The rest of the party hurried along in his wake.

  They headed right, following the gully’s curve. Vanthanoris, his hunting blood up, forged ahead. Vixa and Harmanutis jogged after him, panting with exertion. The fetid sea-stench grew stronger.

  Suddenly, Harmanutis lost his footing and slid down the slope. Vixa, one hand on her sheathed sword, went after him. About the time she reached the bottom of the slope, a shout split the air. It was Vanthanoris from above-calling for help.

  Vixa was still several steps away from Harmanutis. Struggling to his feet in the stinking bog, Harmanutis called to her, “Go, lady! I’m with you!”

  The princess ran splashing along the bottom of the gully, scanning the landscape for sight of Vanthanoris. She caught a glimpse of movement at the top of the next ridge. Then she froze in place. Harmanutis, coming up behind her, likewise halted. A tall, upright figure was silhouetted against the bright sky. All she could make out was a dark figure. It was not shaped like the stocky, muscular Vanthanoris, but it seemed to be a person, definitely not a four-legged animal.

  “You there!” she shouted. The dark figure turned away, disappeared over the hill.

  “Go help Van!” Vixa ordered Harmanutis. Out came her sword. She charged up the slope.

  By the time she reached the top of the hill, Vixa was puffing. Her labor went unrewarded. There was no sign of the dark figure, only more undulating ridges of sand. She stood for a moment, scanning left and right. Still nothing.

  Vixa turned right, strode along the rim of this dune until she saw the rest of her group collected in the bottom of the gully. Esquelamar and the sailors had caught up at last. She called down to them, “Hello! How’s Van?”

  Armantaro and Harmanutis moved apart, revealing the young warrior. Vanthanoris waved to the princess. Vixa skidded down the dune. When closer, she saw that Vanthanoris had a gash on his forehead.

  “What happened, Van?” she asked.

  “I was hard on the trail, lady. As I rounded the bend there, I caught a glimpse of something green moving. I challenged it, and it split in two!”

  “Split in two?”

  “Yes, Highness! What we thought was one four-legged animal turned out to be two two-legged people, walking in step together.”

  Vixa looked back at the ridge top. “I saw one of them,” she said. “Did you get a close look?”

  “No, my lady. I couldn’t see them well. But they were covered with this.” He held out a hand. In it was a swatch of green material. “They were lying in wait for me as I rounded the bend. When they attacked, I managed to tear this off one of them.”

  Vixa took the green material from the warrior’s outstretched hand. It was damp. “Looks like seaweed.”

  Esquelamar examined it. “The fisherfolk call it eelweed,” he told them. “Comes from the deepest parts of the ocean. Most people see it only when it gets caught in a fishing net.”

  The stems of the weed were woven together, like cloth. There even appeared to be threadlike strands of green sewn through the seaweed, for all the world as though it were a square of cloth. This was no bit of camouflage picked up at random. Someone had taken time and trouble to fashion the fronds of seaweed into a leafy covering.

  “Well, these two brigands were draped in it,” Vanthanoris stated. “They saw me, jumped apart, and one of them thrust a short spear at me. I ducked, but it grazed me. That’s when I gave the call. One ran over the hill, that way. The other one ran down the draw.”

  Armantaro was nodding. “This changes everything,” he said. “If there are armed foes about, the ship may be in danger.”

  The sailors were all for turning back right away. Esquelamar glared at them until they
subsided into silence. “There’s no need to panic,” he said calmly. “Some other boat has fetched up on this unforeseen land, that’s all. Vanthanoris ran into another scouting party. He startled them, so they attacked and ran away. There were two of them-if they’d wanted to kill him, why didn’t they?”

  “But the seaweed-” objected Harmanutis.

  “There’s probably several hundredweight of eelweed lying around here. This sand heap rose up from the depths, did it not? It must have brought the eelweed with it,” was the captain’s reasonable response.

  “I agree with the captain,” Vixa said. She tucked the swatch of eelweed into her belt. Esquelamar was probably right in his reading of events, but the woven eelweed was certainly one more peculiar detail in an increasingly odd situation. “We should finish what we came here for.”

  A bandage was tied around Vanthanoris’s head. With Harmanutis in the lead, the small band continued their march toward the center of the island. The hills got higher, and the ravines between them got deeper. Here and there were more tracks in the sand, pairs of deep indentations, but they saw no more figures, weed-draped or otherwise. They plodded up hill and down dale, sweat-drenched, until Harmanutis topped the final rise and cried out, “I see smoke!”

  The rest of the party slogged up the ridge to join the corporal. “Smoke means people,” Esquelamar said.

  One of his sailors muttered, “What is there to burn on this sand pile?”

  Standing alongside Harmanutis, they saw the white smoke soaring skyward from a distant point. The smoke did not rise in long plumes, but in distinct, rolling puffs.

  “How odd,” Vixa said. “Is someone signaling?”

  “That’s not smoke,” said Armantaro. “See how it disperses so quickly? That’s steam, by Astra! There must be a geyser behind that hill.” The old colonel allowed himself a smile. “No wonder this island is not on the charts. It must have been created by a recent upheaval of the subterranean regions.”

  The elves hurried on. Vixa and the younger soldiers arrived first at the pinnacle. As they had hoped, the view was spectacular. Looking back the way they had come, they could see Evenstar, surrounded by muddy water. A considerable distance to the west, a strip of brilliant blue revealed open water. However, it was a long, long way from the stranded ship.

  A fresh billow of steam erupted below them. As the wind whipped the steam away, the source of the eruptions was revealed. Two large openings marred the hillside below.

  “This I must see,” announced the captain. He started down the hill.

  “Keep clear, Captain,” Armantaro called. “The steam can scald you.” The master of Evenstar, acknowledging the warning with a wave of his hand, kept going, followed by his crew.

  The warriors lingered atop the sandy hill, discussing how best to move the ship to that tantalizing stretch of blue ocean. A flurry of action interrupted their debate. Just as Esquelamar and the three sailors reached the closest steam vent, three large, weed-draped figures burst out of the cavelike hole, brandishing short-handled spears.

  “Out swords!” Vixa ordered. “Charge!”

  The elves ran down the hill, shouting Qualinesti war cries. The attackers had seized Esquelamar. His sailors tried to free him, and one received a spear in the chest.

  Vixa raised her blade in a high overhand swing and brought it down on the closest foe. Keen elven steel sliced through the eelweed cape, and a broad section fell away, revealing some type of shiny green armor.

  The attacker let go of Esquelamar and turned to face Vixa. He towered over her by at least a foot, though she herself was six feet tall. He jabbed his short spear at her. She batted it away with her sword. The head of the spear was a reddish, glassy material, barbed like a fishing hook.

  The other Qualinesti warriors poured into the fight. Vanthanoris ran up behind the enemy and grabbed one of them, spinning him around and slashing hard across his opponent’s chest. Eelweed fell away, revealing a cuirass of bright green. The elf dodged a spear thrust, lunged, and felt his sword tip strike home. His moment of triumph was short-lived, though. His tall opponent grasped the blade and wrenched it from Vanthanoris’s grip. He then brought up his own spear, willing to continue the battle with a sword in his side. The now weaponless Vanthanoris hastily withdrew from this display of fortitude.

  The other two weed-robed figures were retreating. They had abandoned Esquelamar and dashed back into the steam vent, bowling over Harmanutis, who tried to block their way. The third antagonist staggered toward the other steam vent. After wrenching Vanthanoris’s blade from his body, he plunged into the cave.

  Vanthanoris and Harmanutis gave a shout and started after the fleeing foe. Armantaro called them back. The old colonel and Esquelamar were kneeling by the dead sailor.

  “Sir! The enemy escapes!” Vanthanoris exclaimed. The bandage on his forehead had slipped, and blood trickled down his face.

  “Stand your ground, soldier!” snapped Armantaro. “Will you charge blindly into a dark cave, like some wild kender? Retrieve your weapon and stand guard at the mouths of those caves, both of you.”

  Vixa went over to the spot where one of the strange creatures had been wounded by Vanthanoris. Drops of greenish liquid were soaking into the sand. She touched the colored spots and raised her fingers to her nose. It was blood-of a completely alien shade, but blood nonetheless. She showed the others the odd bloodstains, saying, “I know of no race on Krynn with green blood in their veins.”

  “Do we go after them?” the colonel asked her.

  “Yes,” was her grim reply. “I want them alive, to question.”

  She led them to the mouth of one of the caves, guarded by Vanthanoris, who was cleaning green stains from his sword with his kerchief. The opening had an arch to it and looked to be made of some smooth stone. Esquelamar scratched the rock. “Limestone,” he reported.

  “Two of our marauders went in here,” Vixa said. “We’ll go after them. Captain, you and your lads should stay and guard the entrance.”

  “Nay, lady,” Esquelamar contradicted. “It’s my comrade who lies dead. I want a hand in catching his killers.” The captain ordered his two sailors to remain on guard, then the elves entered the cave. The sudden change from bright sunlight to damp darkness left them all temporarily blind. They paused inside, allowing their eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. The sound of their footfalls echoed in the tunnel.

  The floor tilted downward. Harmanutis and Vanthanoris lost their footing, slid down the slippery slope, and fetched up in a heap at its bottom. They called warnings to their companions, but too late. Vixa, Armantaro, and Esquelamar joined the pile.

  “Your pardon, lady,” Armantaro said, untangling himself from Vixa’s long legs.

  “Think nothing of it.” Vixa stifled a chuckle at his unfailing politeness, then grunted as something dug into her ribs. “Mind that elbow, Captain.”

  “Beg-oof-your pardon, lady,” Esquelamar puffed. They managed to separate and get to their feet, all except Vanthanoris. He remained crouched on the floor, feeling with his long, sensitive fingers.

  “What is it, Van?” asked the princess, straightening her clothing.

  “The floor is ridged,” he replied, curiosity in his voice. “The gap between the ridges is filled with something soft.” Vanthanoris drew his dagger. “I’ll nip out a piece, and we can examine it.”

  As soon as his dagger penetrated the soft layer in the floor, the island convulsed. The floor rose up under their feet, then dropped away, knocking them all down.

  “Earthquake!” yelled Harmanutis.

  It was no ordinary earthquake. A great inrush of air howled through the cave, tearing at their clothes and ripping the burnoose from Vixa’s head. Sand, sucked in from outside, stung their skin. Then the rush of air reversed direction, bellowing out as hard as it had previously roared in. Thick steam came with the outward flow, soaking them to the skin.

  “We must get out!” Esquelamar cried.

  Vanthanoris and Har
manutis cupped their hands, and Esquelamar placed his feet in them. The soldiers boosted him to the top of the slope.

  “Gods preserve us!” Esquelamar shouted over the screeching wind. “The cave is closing!”

  He offered his hands to Harmanutis. After the two of them pulled the rest of the party up, they all ran in a body for the shrinking exit.

  Indeed, the walls of the cave mouth were closing together. The faint light that penetrated the cave was fading fast. Creases appeared in the floor, and the whole tunnel seemed to be folding in on itself like a concertina. Air shrieked inward once more, blowing Vixa and Vanthanoris off their feet and back into the others. When they regained their footing, they saw that the opening was sealed tight. They were trapped.

  Before they could take in what had happened, the floor dropped out from under them once more. A mighty rushing sound filled their ears, as though the entire ocean roared around them. Vixa shouted for her comrades. If they replied, she couldn’t be sure, but a hand reached out from the darkness and clasped her own. She would know those knobby fingers anywhere. Armantaro.

  The floor continued to rise and shake, throwing them about like pebbles tumbling in a gourd. In spite of the thundering sound of water, no torrent breached the cave.

  The walls of the cave had begun to glow a dark red.

  “Armantaro,” Vixa gasped, “what is happening?”

  “The fires of the deep underground,” he replied, drawing her closer. “Don’t look, Your Highness. Turn away.”

  She could not resist a glance. By the ruddy light, she saw the warriors and Esquelamar huddled on the floor. The walls and the ceiling of the cave seemed to be shifting. Was the cave collapsing?

  With loud wheezes and gulps, they fought for breath. Sweat broke out on their faces. The temperature was rising.

  They would be crushed, if the heat and pressure didn’t kill them first. Clumsily, her chest heaving, Vixa drew her sword. It had been presented to her on her last birthday by her mother. Ten ingots of dwarven iron forged by the finest smith in Qualinost into a single blade. The hilt was finely wrought with leaves and twining branches, forming a lattice handguard set with a large topaz.