Dargonesti lh-3

by Paul Thompson

  “Your turn tomorrow, Brother,” Garnath said with an exhausted sigh.

  “Yup.” Gundabyr brought out more strips of dried cod for his brother, and the two dwarves sat side by side, chewing noisily. Harmanutis asked again about the chilkit.

  “Don’t expect help from them,” Garnath said, echoing his brother’s earlier advice. “They have some intelligence, but not even the blueskins can talk to them. They come down the valley now and then and attack anything in their path. They’re bigger than Quoowahb are, and pretty damn tough.”

  Next Harmanutis asked about the airshells.

  “Nope, can’t use them,” Gundabyr stated, dashing yet another hope.

  “Why not?” Vanthanoris demanded.

  “The Quoowahb count every one they bring in and every one they take out. And even if you could get your hands on one, there’s no knowing how much air’s in it.”

  “And the sea brothers would get you anyway,” put in Garnath.

  Vanthanoris dropped his head into his hands, his brain reeling with all this unhappy news. “And who are the sea brothers?” he asked despondently.

  “Shapeshifters. You must’ve seen them-the dolphins who rescued you.”

  Harmanutis remembered them well. “Can all the Quoowahb become dolphins?”

  “Nope, just the sea brothers. They live outside the city. A fella called Naxos is their chief, but he takes his orders from Coryphene,” Garnath explained.

  “So Coryphene is Speaker of these elves?”

  “Him?” Gundabyr spat. “He’s a veritable butcher, but he’s not the leader.”

  Vanthanoris swore, which caused the dwarves to smile. Harmanutis motioned for him to be still and asked, “Then who does rule in Urione?”

  “Her Divine Majesty, Queen Uriona,” said the dwarf twins in unison. Gundabyr added wryly, “Uriona the Mad, that is. They say she’s been touched by the gods. ‘Touched’ is right.”

  A distinct clack-clack rang down the tunnel. Gundabyr vanished into the barrel again. Garnath jumped to his feet, crying, “The blueskins are coming back! Whatever the reason, it can’t be good!”

  The clacking noise had been made by one of the other dwarves. He’d seen a disturbance in the water and had signaled his fellow slaves by beating the floor with a rock. Seconds after his alarm sounded, a troop of Dargonesti warriors burst out of the pool, weapons in hand. One, with a golden sand dollar on the front of his helmet, boomed out, “All prisoners line up! Take a shell and proceed outside!”

  Slowly the tired slaves rose. When they didn’t move fast enough to suit their captors, a squad of sea elves came down the aisle, prodding the laggards with spear points. Harmanutis and Vanthanoris glared at the seven-foot-tall Dargonesti. Garnath straightened his soggy shirt and muttered, “Twice in one day! You owe me, Brother!” A muffled grunt from the barrel was the only reply.

  The Qualinesti stood shoulder to shoulder, their proud bearing in marked contrast to the ragtag look of the rest of the slaves. When he reached the water’s edge, Harmanutis addressed the Dargonesti who wore the decorated helmet, who he assumed was an officer.

  “What’s happening?” he asked. “Where are we going?”

  “No talking!” snapped the Dargonesti.

  With no other option, the two Qualinesti fit their airshell mouthpieces into place. They were still wearing their weighted belts as they walked down the steps and into the cold water. As soon as their ears were submerged, they heard a riot of strange noises. It almost sounded like … a battle?

  The Dargonesti soldiers drove the mass of prisoners forward. They quickly left the road to the city and turned toward the great mountain. Dark gray shapes hurtled overhead. The chorus of clicks and bubbling beeps revealed that these were dolphins, all heading in the same direction.

  Suddenly, the Qualinesti saw a wall looming over them. Made of great blocks of stone, the wall rose sixty feet from the seafloor. There was a gate in the center, and four unfinished stumps of towers at the top. Unused blocks of stone were piled here and there. Crowded among the waiting blocks were hundreds of armed sea elves, facing the wall.

  Floating aimlessly in the water above the Dargonesti were the injured and the dead. Some were missing arms or legs. Some were missing heads. Dolphins circled around, tugging Dargonesti wounded away from the battle and fending off prowling sharks. Blood drifted like smoke, coloring the water ahead.

  Atop the wall, between the centermost towers, Dargonesti were fighting. The inside gate on the wall was open, and the Quoowahb were herding the slave workers into the breach.

  As the Qualinesti, who were at the rear of the line of prisoners, reached the blocks lying on the seafloor at the base of the wall, something dropped among them from above. The prisoners scattered. Mud swirled around the Qualinesti warriors, and Harmanutis was knocked backward and trampled on. Once he got clear of the stampede, he saw what had caused even the sea elves to flee so frantically.

  A chilkit had landed in their midst.

  The creature reared eight feet tall, fiery red armor on top of pale gray flesh. Four jointed legs stood out from its thick, barrel-shaped body. A torso encased in a crimson carapace was attached forward of the legs, and the torso had two pairs of arms. The lower pair ended in articulated fingers sporting sharp talons. The upper pair was even more fearsome. A massive set of scissorlike claws tipped each of these arms. The chilkit’s head was hard to discern-its torso simply came to a blunt point. Whip antennae sprouted from this point, and four wide-set black eyes protruded on flexible stalks below the antennae. Lastly, a vertical mouth, surrounded by horny palps, opened and shut as the chilkit forced seawater through its gills.

  Harmanutis backed away. He feared no normal enemy, but this was a monster indeed, and he had no weapon. The chilkit scuttled forward, attacking the nearest man. The human scrambled madly, grasping the sandy bottom with both hands. The monster strode over him, its hideous claws upraised. Harmanutis watched in horror as the chilkit seized the man in both claws. The terrible pincers closed, cutting the slave in half.

  Vanthanoris, also scrambling away, found himself atop a massive block of cut stone. Other prisoners followed, until they were spilling off the sides. The chilkit advanced toward the block and swept a dozen slaves from the side with a backward swipe of its claw.

  Vanthanoris heard the staccato call of the dolphins, and a school thirty strong rushed in. Like a fleet of battering rams, the dolphins bore into the chilkit. Van lifted his head in time to see that the animals were wearing special helmets studded with shards of rock crystal. The chilkit backed away, slashing and grasping at the dolphins. The racing creatures eluded it and drove their spiked helmets into the monster’s armored hide. Now it was chilkit blood that darkened the water.

  From behind, Harmanutis heard an especially loud, trilling whistle. He saw a powerful dolphin ram full-tilt into the chilkit’s chest. Armored claws closed around the muscular gray flanks; then all was lost in a welter of churning sand and blood.

  Something nudged Harmanutis. He turned and saw a dolphin hovering behind him. Why did they always look like they were smiling? It nudged him again with its snout, then sank to the sand by his feet. The Qualinesti warrior got the message. He widened his stance, and the dolphin glided between his knees. The animal gave a warning shake, so Harmanutis held on to its dorsal fin. The sleek creature shot away with a few strokes of its powerful flukes.

  From above, the struggle with the chilkit was easier to see. The monster that had dropped among the prisoners lay on its back, dead. Sharks tugged at its lifeless limbs. Harmanutis’s mount swam higher, and he saw a wedge-shaped formation of Dargonesti warriors pushing chilkit back to the wall. The blue-skinned sea elves made a startling contrast to the bold red chilkit. One by one the attackers were isolated and battered to death by Dargonesti wielding stone-headed maces.

  One group of chilkit held fast, and they got behind a building block and used it to ram a phalanx of sea elves aside. Harmanutis’s dolphin mount saw this and
nosed sharply down. The corporal almost lost his seat, but held on to the dorsal fin with both hands. The dolphin twisted and bore in for a ramming attack on the back of the chilkit nearest them. That was enough for Harmanutis. He let go, and the weighted belt he wore caused him to drop slowly to the seafloor.

  He was on his feet promptly as he touched bottom, for to his astonishment he had seen whom the chilkit was attacking. A small knot of sea elves stood between the monster and two smaller figures. These two had airshells in their mouths.

  Princess Vixa and Colonel Armantaro!

  Harmanutis tried to shout a war cry, but the only result was a gurgle of bubbles past the mouthpiece of his airshell. He lost his footing and pitched down on his face.

  The chilkit grabbed the shaft of a sea elf’s spear and hoisted up the unlucky fellow. The warrior held his grip for an instant too long and toppled forward, into the monster’s claws. The chilkit tossed the lacerated foe aside to face the next soldier, who used his shield to fend off the monster’s talons. Undaunted, the chilkit bored in, bowling the elf over by sheer bulk. Now, only one fighter stood between the towering chilkit and the two Qualinesti elves.

  This sea elf carried no buckler, but wielded his short-handled spear in one hand, like a dueling sword. He jabbed at the chilkit’s eyes, and the creature backed off warily. The Dargonesti advanced quickly, thrusting with both hands. His opponent tried to snag the spear with its claws, but the warrior shifted his aim only slightly, deftly avoiding the claws. The needle-sharp tip of his spear pierced the chilkit through a chink in its body armor. A strangely emotionless cry broke from the monster. It gave ground. The Dargonesti shoved his weapon farther in. Talons reached for him, but found only water. The sea elf twisted hard on his spear shaft until there was a distinct crack as the spear tore into the creature’s vitals. Its arms dropped and it toppled over. The victorious fighter recovered his spear.

  Harmanutis had at last fought his way through the mud and blood and reached his princess’s side. Vixa clapped him on the shoulder. Her eyes and Armantaro’s spoke eloquently. The corporal pointed to the milling mass of slaves and soldiers still fighting at the base of the wall, the last place he’d seen Vanthanoris.

  The three Qualinesti started toward that spot, but before they’d taken more than two steps, Vixa’s wrist was seized. She was yanked around, and found herself face-to-face with the Dargonesti who’d single-handedly defeated the chilkit. Harmanutis charged to her defense, but the Dargonesti leveled his spear point at the corporal’s chest, bringing him up short. They could see the fierce face inside the helmet. It was none other than Coryphene.

  Coryphene’s throat worked, and a loud series of clicks rang through the ocean. Soldiers and dolphins not otherwise engaged gathered around him. He gave Vixa over to four warriors, then bade the rest accompany Harmanutis and Armantaro. The Qualinesti were tempted to resist this separation, but Coryphene placed a proprietary hand on Vixa’s airshell. The two veteran warriors subsided immediately and were herded back to the other prisoners.

  The battle was over. No living chilkit remained in the area. The three started back to the cave, but armed Dargonesti stopped them, sending them back toward the wall. It seemed they were to join in repairing the breach.

  Though they were bursting with questions for each other, and anxious over their princess’s fate, the Qualinesti had to content themselves with working in silence. The airshells in their mouths, and the vigilance of their guards, made any type of conversation impossible.

  Armantaro joined the gang that was busy fitting a heavy net around a dislodged stone block. Bladders inflated with air were used to lift the massive block to the parapet of the wall. As the colonel watched, Dargonesti in civilian dress filled the bladders from airshells heaped in a litter borne by other sea elves and closely guarded by soldiers. He counted four large bladders filled from one whelk shell.

  The problem, he mused to himself, is to get several of those shells secretly. Perhaps with enough air, the Qualinesti could walk to land.

  The colonel paused in his work and stared with a worried frown toward the city, where his princess had been taken. Of course, even if they had airshells, they still faced the dangers of ocean predators and the Dargonesti themselves, not to mention …

  Which way was land?

  Chapter 7

  Divine Queen

  Coryphene conferred with his lieutenants in their odd, clicking language. In a studied display of nonchalance, Vixa waited, leaning against an ornate pillar by the road. The battle had frightened off all the sea life around the city, except the sharks. Packs of wary dolphins cruised above, chasing predators away from the wounded and the dying.

  Coryphene rapped on the road with the butt of his spear. Vixa came out of her reverie and saw him motion for her to follow him back to the city. Bone-weary, she obliged.

  Large crowds greeted the victorious warriors on their return. The quays were jammed with Dargonesti of every rank, cheering the repulse of the chilkit. When Vixa and Coryphene emerged from the water, a roar went up. The Protector of Urione removed his helmet but did not acknowledge the acclaim.

  Over the enthusiastic cheering, Vixa said, “Your people appear to love you.”

  He pointedly took the airshell from her hands. “I am one of them,” he said simply. “And they will love me only so long as I win battles.”

  He climbed the ramp. Soldiers with mismatched iron swords appeared, parting the crowd. Coryphene’s personal guard drew up for review as their commander passed by. One soldier, his armor dented from the fierce fighting, barred Vixa’s path for a moment-just long enough to put some distance between her and Coryphene. It would not do for an outsider to intrude upon the Protector’s moment of triumph. The Qualinesti princess, her borrowed cloak lost, stood shivering and dripping, while all around her the sea elves went wild.

  An elderly sea elf, clad in a simple silver robe, stood at the end of the guard ranks, his bearing proud. Coryphene halted a few paces from this elderly fellow and raised one hand. Loudly, he intoned, “Greetings, Voice of Her Divine Majesty!”

  The elf bowed his head slightly. Vixa was astonished at how quickly the cheering and screeching died down. One minute there were thunderous cries, the next, virtual silence.

  The elderly sea elf replied in Old Elvish: “Greetings to thee, great Coryphene, terror of the enemies of Urione. Her Divine Grace desires thou to attend upon her instantly.”

  “I would like to make myself more presentable, noble Kytheron.”

  “As thou wishes, great Protector. Her Divine Grace desires thee to bring the maiden from the landed race as well.”

  Vixa was startled, but Coryphene merely nodded.

  The Protector strode away, and Vixa was forced to jog after him.

  “My uncle is leader of our party,” she said. “You should send for him. I’m sure the queen would rather meet Armantaro than me.”

  Coryphene looked down at her disdainfully. “All must obey Her Divine Majesty. Refusal brings death. Remember that.”

  Vixa was shown to a room where the only furniture was a table upon which was a pitcher of fresh water, a fishbone comb, and a small pile of clothing. The Qualinesti princess washed her hands and face, relieved to remove at least a few layers of the grime and accumulated salt. Her hair-kept short because of her warrior status-she rinsed as best she could, then combed back from her face.

  A pile of clean garments awaited her. There were several articles that were obviously undergarments and a flowing, ankle-length robe. Everything was made of a strange fabric. It didn’t feel like cloth at all-more like tissue-thin leather, if there could be such a thing. Quickly, she peeled off her salt-stiffened smallclothes, doused herself with the remaining water, and donned the clean clothing. The robe was white and had a wide red stripe winding from hem to neck. It was astonishingly comfortable. Material such as this, soft as silk yet tough as leather, would fetch a handsome price in any market on Krynn. Around her waist she fastened an elaborate gir
dle of tiny white coral beads. She had to wrap its free ends twice about her, otherwise they would have dragged on the floor.

  Coryphene entered unexpectedly. Vixa whirled, her hands still occupied with tying the belt. “Don’t you believe in knocking?” she snapped.

  “Her Majesty awaits. Come,” was all he said.

  He was resplendent in a long purple cape and jeweled torque. On his head was an elaborate headdress of shells and gemstones. Coral beads hung down in long streams across his bare chest. His fresh kilt was held up by a heavy, braided gold sash. Wide ankle bracelets completed his outfit.

  They walked out of the barracks and down the narrow street to the ramp. An honor guard of twelve Dargonesti in silver robes met them. On the way, Coryphene advised Vixa on protocol.

  “Do not speak unless you are spoken to,” he told her. “Answer fully all questions put to you. Her Divinity has the gift of sight, and can see far more than ordinary mortals. Lastly, do not look Her Divinity in the face.”

  Vixa couldn’t resist. “Why not?”

  “To do so means death.”

  They ascended the spiral ramp and passed through the magical portal. After the flash of light and heat, Vixa was once more standing in the palace plaza. The honor guard had drawn off a short distance and donned silver hoods. Coryphene straightened his shoulders and walked firmly ahead.

  He led Vixa to a pair of enormous doors, set just under the colonnade on the far side of the plaza. The doors were made of quartz crystals the size of logs, bolted together with rods of the same material. The shadows of servants could be seen on the other side, hauling the doors open. Once inside, Coryphene paused to remove his headdress. He tucked it under his arm before continuing.

  The corridor was illuminated by greenish light from the domed ceiling. The odd color of the light came from the filtering effect of many fathoms of seawater. The sun’s rays barely penetrated to this depth. Incense, its sweet-sour smell like that in the temple complex, filled the long passage. Vixa spied censers located between the pearl-inlaid columns lining the hall. Dargonesti women in scarlet robes tended these braziers, feeding them small pellets of some waxy substance.