"I hope you appreciate the value of this gift," began Palentor, speaking to Brandon and Robyn.
"Aye, that we do," replied the northman, with a frank look at the elf. "Even as we're surprised that you give it to us."
Palentor regarded Brandon quizzically. Then he bent down and swiftly unwrapped the blanket that had cloaked the Helm of Zulae.
The humans saw a larger than normal silver battle helmet with a full-face visor-so full, in fact, that it was even devoid of eyeholes! A sleek, ribbed fin jutted from the center of the object, sweeping from front to back like the dorsal fin of a fish. The sea elf nodded toward the Princess of Moonshae, with the proud female figurehead rising from the bow.
"Place this over the head of that carved figure," he explained, "and your ship will descend through the surface of the water. A pocket of air will remain over your crew, in the inverted shape of your hull."
"How does she move?" inquired the captain.
"The helm will propel her, although at much slower speeds than on the surface. You'll have to rig a second rudder to guide the ship up and down. Also, you must furl your sail before you submerge, or water pressure will tear it away quickly."
"Slower speeds, you say. How much slower?" asked the Prince of Gnarhelm.
"You'll make perhaps five knots."
"Does it have a time limit?" inquired Keane, staring in obvious fascination at the silver object.
"Indeed. It varies based upon the number of elves-I should say, people-in your crew. For a complement such as yours, I estimate that you will be comfortable for perhaps twelve underwater hours and capable of surviving for another twelve. Beyond that, though the mask will maintain the bubble around your ship, the air becomes stale and useless. Suffocation inevitably results."
Palentor looked them over, ready to challenge anyone to argue with him. None did. The picture he painted created a graphic image in the minds of all his listeners.
"When we're down there, then, we'd best pay attention to the time," Hanrald murmured dryly.
"I think we'll notice when the air starts to go bad!" Brigit affirmed.
The sister knight stood beside the earl, and it occurred to Alicia that they had been together a lot during the stay in Evermeet-at least, when Hanrald wasn't working with the men on the ship repairs.
Alicia's attention drifted to Keane, and she saw that the mage looked peaked, with dark circles under his eyes. He clutched several large tomes to his chest, as if he had been reading, and parted only reluctantly from his texts. Five days ago Trillhalla had brought him some books, and these he had perused ever since with obvious eagerness. Indeed, of all the men, he had been the only one who hadn't worked on the repairs. Instead, he spent his time reading in a secluded part of the grotto. Now, however, he listened carefully to the words of the sea elf.
"I–I feel I should warn you of something," Palentor said, as if he forced himself to speak despite great reluctance. "My scouts have reported a massing of the fishmen armies. Sahuagin and scrags, plus huge schools of sharks, which they use as their scouts, have collected just beyond the cyclone barrier."
The sea elf paused, and for a moment, Alicia wondered if he was preparing to launch a harangue against them for gathering the enemy to his shores. Instead, he spoke with real sincerity.
"We suspect that they await your departure. As I explained before, the cyclone belt is no barrier to undersea intrusion. They are not holding back an attack against us, for their numbers have been stable for several days and they have made no overt move toward the elvenhome. Instead, they screen the entire eastern coast of Evermeet."
"I suspected that might be the case," Keane noted. "Their pursuit was too diligent to break off on the suspicion of our destruction."
Trillhalla offered the next advice. "There may be a way to get you around that barrier," she said tentatively. "I'll have to talk to the queen."
"If not, we're helpless against them under the water, aren't we?" Alicia questioned. "After all, we can barely outrun them on the surface. They could easily catch us when we submerge."
"They can catch us, yes, but we're not exactly helpless," Keane continued. He raised the heavy books in his arms, as if the others might not have noticed them, then smiled at Trillhalla. "Thanks to our friends here, I have been able to learn a few new spells that might aid us. Water breathing, for one, and free action-and several others. If it comes to battle, they may prove very useful."
"Druids are not without useful abilities in this situation as well," Robyn pointed out.
Palentor looked at them all, his eyes wide and an expression of guarded respect on his features. "One thing that has not been exaggerated is the courage of humanity. I… begin to believe that you may accomplish your objective."
"That's a relief," muttered Alicia. She flushed when the sea elf turned his almond eyes toward her, then stared in astonishment as he concluded.
"Even more," Palentor added, with the first smile-albeit a small one-that the visitors had seen on his face. "I hope that you succeed."
With a quiet nod at all of them, the sea elf turned away and sliced through the waters of the grotto in a clean dive.
"Who are you?" croaked the chained figure, his tone weakened almost to the point of death.
"I am-" He wanted to say that he was Tristan Kendrick, High King of the Ffolk. Somehow that fact didn't seem important now. "I'm a prisoner here, like you. Only they didn't chain me."
"They assumed the water would stop you. I need more secure restraint." With a tight smile, the merman gestured with his fishy tail in case Tristan missed the point. "I am Marqillor, of Deepvale," added the prisoner.
"Tristan Kendrick, of the Moonshaes."
"I know those islands."
The words were like a flame of hope to the king. "You do? Where are they? Where are we?"
Marqillor shifted uncomfortably. "We are in the dungeon of Krell-Bane, in the heart of Kyrasti, his great fortress in the Coral Kingdom," the merman explained. "The cells of air, where Krell-Bane's most hated prisoners are kept."
The chained captive leaned his head against the wall, and his mouth worked weakly, as if he struggled for enough air to breathe.
"Can I help you?" Tristan asked, examining the brackets, both of which seemed secure.
"Water. ." The merman gasped weakly and nodded toward the pool where Tristan had emerged. "It almost killed you, I know, but without it, I will die."
The king saw a large bucket near the wall of the cell and went to fill it. "To drink?" he asked as he returned.
Marqillor smiled and shook his head. "Throw it over me," he said. Tristan did so, and immediately he saw the merman's expression grow softer. He leaned back in apparent bliss. "Again. . please?"
The human willingly soaked down his fellow prisoner, amazed at the abrupt transformation. Within moments, Marqillor seemed vibrant and healthy. He strained, albeit fruitlessly, at his bonds.
"Are they trying to kill you?" asked Tristan. "Is that why they keep you out of the water?"
"No. They enjoy the torment, that's all. When I reach the point of complete collapse, they come and revive me. Sometimes I've awakened to find Krell-Bane himself observing me."
"Krell-Bane … tell me about him. Who or what is he?"
The merman described the scrag king and his race. "The sea trolls are the inherent masters of the sahuagin."
"Much the way trolls control orcs and goblins on the surface," Tristan realized. "And this is their palace?"
"Aye," grunted Marqillor. He looked at Tristan quizzically. "Do you know that you're five hundred feet below the surface of the sea?"
Now it was the human's turn to sag wearily backward. "I guess I'm not completely surprised, though how I got here alive I couldn't tell you."
"The scrags have ways," Marqillor stated. "Though normally they don't bother with the effort. They keep only prisoners who they feel will make valuable hostages."
The two captives looked at each other with the same idea.
> "I'm High King of the Moonshaes," Tristan stated bluntly.
Marqillor smiled wryly. "And I am the Crown Prince of Deepvale," he concluded.
Sinioth lurked in the depths, seething with impatience. Were the humans dead, slain by the cyclones of Evermeet? Or did they still live, plotting and planning against his master?
The more he agonized, the more he convinced himself that the latter circumstance was the case. These intrepid voyagers would emerge again, he felt, bringing their longship against the aquatic army in their desperate attempt to carve a path to their king.
Yet even as he contemplated his great plan, with thousands of scrags and sahuagin effectively barring the sea east of Evermeet and the fast Manta floating just below the surface in the center of that great deployment, Sinioth's unease grew. They were resourceful, these humans. . they had surprised him before.
More and more, he realized, the avatar of Talos should consider returning to his undersea monarchy. If the humans somehow passed his barrier of predatory sea warriors, he knew that he would finally meet them in the Coral Kingdom.
15
Embark to the Underdeep
"We'll be ready to sail as soon as the drydock fills with water," Brandon announced late in the afternoon of the day following the Helm of Zulae's arrival. "Knaff's rigged up the horizontal rudder, so the Princess is as good as new-maybe better."
Despite the fact that this was the culmination of all their endeavors, and Alicia had been eager to proceed all week, she found that the northman's announcement caused a melancholy reaction. Indeed, she was not alone. The longship's entire complement seemed to take the news like a dousing of ice water.
"We'll wait for first light, I presume," ventured Hanrald, standing beside Brigit. The sister knight looked around their grotto, and Alicia saw a trace of panic in her eyes, as if the elfwoman would suffer deeply upon their departure.
"Aye-and the tide, a few hours beyond. But we'll be well away from shore before noon," replied the captain. Even Brandon seemed to bite back a trace of wistfulness at the notion of leaving the idyllic elvenhome.
But of course there was no choice, nor really did Alicia welcome the thought of any further delay in her father's rescue. It was more that the sensations of the past eight days had been so pleasant, so relaxing, that the reality of a return to their quest seemed to loom like a many-headed hydra, threatening them with a dozen different fates, all of them bleak.
"Ready to get back to sea?" asked Keane, looking surprisingly undismayed by the prospect of sailing. "It should be-"
"No, I'm not ready!" Alicia snapped, annoyed that for once Keane should be prepared to embark on an adventure while she felt a deep reluctance. She looked at his pallid skin, at the circles under his eyes. "Where have you been all week, anyway?" she demanded, knowing full well that he had engrossed himself in tomes loaned to him by the command of the queen. Alicia's frustrations welled up and, as had so often happened during her childhood and adolescence, all of that anger focused on the convenient scapegoat of her familiar tutor. "We've been sailing the seas, living outside, and you're still pale!"
The magic-user turned away, hurt, and Alicia wondered why she had spoken to him so harshly. She felt little better after her outburst; her temper still smoldered with a low flame. Why does he let me do it? she wondered, wishing that for once the man would respond to her with anger of his own.
She threw herself into the frenzy of preparation and found release for her tension there. They had water barrels to fill, food to pack and load, and a final inventory, repair, sharpening, and polishing of weapons and armor to make.
"I'm not sure I relish a return to hardtack and stale bread," observed Brigit as they looked over their provisions, which had been unloaded when they beached the longship. Now they started to pass the heavy crates back into the hull.
Before dusk of that last night in the elvenhome, one of the great cargo canoes sailed into the grotto, propelled by its usual complement of elves. Trillhalla and Palentor stood in the bow, and as it neared the dock, the humans saw a wide variety of foodstuffs-melons of all sizes, large wheels of cheese, kegs of butter and honey-piled high in the center of the boat.
"A gift from Queen Amlaruil," announced Trillhalla, stepping lightly onto the dock. "Delicacies for the palate that may make your journey a little more pleasant."
Palentor stepped out of the canoe, bowing to the humans. The male sea elf looked remarkably unhostile, which is not to say he appeared friendly.
"The provisions of Evermeet are famed throughout elvendom," he said stiffly but with a real effort to control his arrogance. "The queen-that is, we-hoped that you would enjoy them as you embark upon this final leg of your quest."
"Your generosity-and your queen's-is overwhelming,"
Robyn said sincerely. She took a few steps forward, standing directly before the sea elf and staring into his eyes. "Thank you, Palentor."
The mottled green of the elven warrior's face darkened, and Alicia wondered if he blushed. He bowed with great formality before speaking.
"Perhaps … perhaps I should thank you," he said. "We live in great isolation here on Evermeet. Indeed, isolation is the key to our survival. But you have shown me that not all humans are rapacious destroyers as we have been taught.
"Your courage is obvious, and your skill-setting out for Evermeet and actually reaching our shores-is something that no ordinary creature would dare to do." His gaze shifted from Robyn to Alicia, who was staring at Palentor in surprise. "I hope that you find your father," he said.
"Thank you," was all the princess could reply, but suddenly the resumption of their quest became the most important thing in the world.
"The armies of the deep?" inquired Brandon. "Do they still await us beyond the cyclone belt?"
"Aye," replied Palentor. "They have gathered in greater numbers than I have seen. …"
It seemed that the sea elf had not completed his statement, though his voice trailed away. He regarded them carefully, and they sensed that he was trying to decide what to say next.
"There. . there is a way around them," he finally announced. "A concealed passage through the reefs along the eastern shore that you could follow to the south, passing west of Belintholme, the Guardian Isle. That course should carry you around the cordon."
"How well concealed?" wondered the captain grimly.
"Perfectly. No charts have ever been made. It is mapped only in the minds of a few elves who have spent much of their lives in those waters. Anyone who tried to sail it without such an elf as a pilot would find himself-well, much as we found you-high and dry, a mile off the shore of Evermeet and going nowhere."
"The pilot, then. .?" Brandon prompted.
"These passages are keys to the final defense of the elvenhome!" Palentor snapped brusquely, as if he desperately wanted them to understand. "Nevertheless, the queen has placed it in my discretion. If I choose to provide you with a pilot, she has granted you permission to sail the secret ways."
They waited, curious and tense. Alicia wondered why he had told them this much. She was sure Palentor's rabid belief in the sanctity of Evermeet's defenses would prevent him from allowing the humans to sail those concealed channels.
"You, Sister Knight, have shown me much by your example," continued Palentor, stealing a look at Brigit. "As you know, your staunch defense of Synnoria through the past centuries has not escaped our notice. Yet if one who has devoted her life to preserving the sanctity of an elven land sees fit to welcome humans there, perhaps there is good cause. I see now that there is.
"I will lead you along these paths," concluded the sea elf in a sudden rush of words. He glared at them for a moment, as if challenging someone to dispute him, but even so Brandon's reaction took him by surprise.
"I knew it!" boomed the northman, stepping forward to clap the much smaller elf on the shoulder. "You're all right, you know that, Palentor?"
The sea elf was too astonished to reply, but he smiled hesitantly as the crew
raised a cheer. The elves produced great baskets of fruits and kegs of sweet wine, and the grotto rang with celebration, music, and dancing late into the night.
Alicia joined Robyn, Trillhalla, and Tavish on a blanket near the roaring bonfire. Keane and Brandon, and later even Palentor, came over to join them. The wine flowed sweetly, and as darkness settled across the grotto, the voyagers rose to a spirit of celebration.
"To our hosts! Their generosity stands as a shining example to all the Realms!" proclaimed Robyn, raising a crystal goblet of red wine. All the crew joined in the solemn toast.
"And to our guests," replied Trillhalla. "May their endeavor be blessed with success."
Thoughts of that endeavor again propelled Alicia. She felt certain now that, if her father lived, they would find him. Yet in the fellowship of the fireside, the camaraderie of their last night on Evermeet, she felt a growing wistfulness. The thought of her companions gave her strength, and she resolved to throw herself into the resumed voyage with every ounce of her energy.
"Where's Hanrald?" the princess wondered at one point when the company was well into their second cask of wine.
Brandon looked at her, his expression sly. "He's gone for a walk with Brigit, I think-at least, I saw them amble off together a few hours ago."
The princess looked around, trying to suppress her sudden shock. In truth, she had noticed the bond that had seemed to slowly develop between the couple, and every time she thought of it, it puzzled her. She felt a flash of jealousy toward the elven woman, a feeling she recognized as irrational, but it remained with her nonetheless.
After tuning her harp, Tavish sent songs of joy and celebration wafting through the camp. She played short, lively songs, ribald ballads, and sang gentle verses of love and valor-all of it music that floated through the night, a perfect counterpoint in sound to the idyllic grotto surrounding them.
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