Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles (25 page)

 
          
He
found a passageway hidden behind a rotting tapestry and decided to give it a
go. The tunnel wound steadily upward, and Trip soon smelled the fresh scent of
sea air once more. The glowing lichens quickly died away, but light from the
outside leaked down the passage, enabling him to see.

 
          
He
soon came to a cleverly concealed opening in the cliff face, about forty feet
above the surging tide. The entryway was cut into the rock such that, from
either direction, it appeared to be only a small crack in the surrounding
stone. While enough to fool a human’s—or perhaps even a dragon’s—eye, the trick
clearly had little effect on the bats whose droppings littered the cave
entrance.

 
          
Trip
crinkled up his nose and tried not to get his boots too messy as he peered out
into the daylight beyond. Even with the cloak’s hood pulled down nearly over
his eyes, the light seemed unbearably bright.

 
          
“If
you wait until nightfall,” he thought, “you may have an easier time avoiding
Kell and his men. On the other hand, if you do that, you’ll have
no idea
of where you’re going. Best to
climb down now, have a look around, and then try to catch a boat to Darthalla.”

 
          
He
pulled the cloak’s hood back from his head to have a better look at the cliff
face; the light immediately seemed less blinding and the air felt less
oppressive.

 
          
Being
extra cautious, Trip slowly climbed down the cliff face to the waterline. By
the time he got there, the tide had receded somewhat, leaving a thin, rocky
beach along the bottom of the bluff. Taking his bearings from the afternoon
sun, he quickly figured out in which direction the town lay.

 
          
He
felt concerned about running into Kell again, but as the cliffs only grew
steeper to the west, he had little choice. “It’s either back to town or twice
the climb you just made,” he though.

 
          
His
mind made up, he hiked down the rocky shore back the way he’d originally come.
He hadn’t gone far, though, when the sound of voices drifted to his ears.

 
          
“Must
be around here somewhere,” said a man.

 
          
“Check
up the shore again,” said a voice Trip recognized as belonging to Lord Kell.

 
          
“A
lot of work for one kender,” said the first voice.

 
          
“I’m
inclined to agree, milord,” said a voice belonging to Karista Meinor. “Why
chase the kender when your sister is ailing?”

 
          
“Aye,”
Kell replied. “I did vow to take him to Alarl, though.”

 
          
Trip
smiled. They hadn’t realized that he’d reclaimed the black diamond artifact
yet. Good! If they left, it would be easier for him to get off Jaentarth.

 
          
Just
as he decided to slink away and hide somewhere until they’d gone, though, the
first voice shouted, “There he is!”

 
          
Trip
cursed himself. He’d been so lost in thought—a very un-kender thing to do—that
his enemies had sneaked up on him. He turned, but saw no easy escape down the
western beach.

 
          
Kell
and the others ran toward him, brandishing weapons.
Trip’s
only alternative was a rocky, fingerlike quay stretching out into the ocean. He
dashed down the quay with no clear plan in his mind. Kell and the others ran
close behind.

 
          
“Perhaps
I can find another underwater cave,” Trip hoped. “Maybe one of those
passageways I didn’t take leads out here.” Glancing back the way he’d come, it
seemed a reasonable prospect.

 
          
An
arrow whizzed by his head and shattered on the rocks in front of him. Another
arrow clattered nearby. That made up his mind.

 
          
Not
waiting to reach the end of the quay, he dived into the crashing waves.

 
          
* * * * *

 
          
Lord
Kell and Lady Meinor watched in frustration as the kender disappeared beneath
the pounding surf. They raced to where they’d last seen Trip, and stood there
watching for long minutes.

 
          
“How
long can he stay under?” Kell asked.

 
          
Karista
shrugged. “They said he’s a practiced diver. I wouldn’t rule out five minutes
or more.”

 
          
“We’ll
wait,” Kell said, and turning to his men added, “Keep watch up and down the
beach. I don’t know how he eluded us last time, but we don’t want him slipping
ashore unnoticed.”

 
          
They
waited. Five minutes.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Twenty.

 
          
“Could
he have drowned?” Kell finally asked when they’d seen no sign of Trip for a
half hour.

 
          
“I
don’t know,” Karista said with a shrug. “Probably he didn’t intend to drown
himself, but got caught in some undertow.”

 
          
Kell
nodded.
“Aye, perhaps.
We’ve wasted enough time, in
any case. Our healer must have what my sister requires by now. We sail for
Berann.”

 
          
“And
then the treasure?” Karista asked hopefully.

 
          
“If
it exists, we’ll find it,” Kell replied,
“ ..
.
For the glory of the Order.
Then you’ll have your trade
concession.” Karista Meinor smiled and her steel-blue eyes flashed at him.
“Aye, milord.”

 
          
* * * * *

 
          
Trip
had spent many years diving, and once he had even beaten a pearl diver to the
bottom of a six fathom bay.

 
          
Never
before had he dived as he did when he leaped off the quay. The water surged
around him; rocks, reefs, and seaweed flew past as though they had been shot
out of a catapult. The water changed from clear, to hazy blue, to indigo in
what seemed an instant.

 
          
Disoriented
and nearly out of breath, he shot back up to the surface. He breached like a
dolphin, shooting high into the afternoon air before crashing back down into
the waves.

 
          
He
sputtered and flailed for a moment before coming to rest, gently bobbing on the
surface. Looking behind him, Trip saw Jaentarth and Lord Kell’s ship—nearly a
half league away.

 
          
Trip
laughed and shook his fist in their direction, knowing they couldn’t see him,
but half-wishing they could.

 
          
Gazing
at the distant island, he realized that this really
was
a sea serpent skin cloak—a magical one at that. That explained
why the sunlight seemed so bright and the air oppressive when he had the hood
on; the cloak was accustomed to the darkness of the deep sea.

 
          
That
thought triggered another one. He pulled the cloak’s hood up over his head once
more and—carefully—dived under water. As he did, he felt a familiar tingling in
his mouth, nose, and chest.

 
          
Cautiously,
he took a breath.

           
Trip found himself greatly relieved
not to be drowning. He breathed the water as naturally as if he had been born
to it.

 
          
“Sleek!”
he said aloud—and was happy to hear the words come out clear and undistorted.

 
          
Being
careful not to go deep enough to lose his way, Trip swam underwater away from
the island. To his delight, he found himself whizzing through the brine at
speeds that would have made a razorfish envious.

 
          
He
crashed out of the water and soared high into the air like a leaping manta ray.
He cavorted with dolphins and porpoises, ran circles around sea turtles, and
played “tag the fin” against a school of redtip sharks; fortunately, none of
the sharks tagged him back.

 
          
As
the sun touched the thunderheads clogging the western horizon, more practical
matters seeped into Trip’s mind—such as how he could find his friends.

 
          
Swimming
to Darthalla seemed out of the question; he didn’t know the way. Asking
directions would be difficult, as there wasn’t anyone around to ask, and he
didn’t know whom to trust, either.

 
          
He
finally decided that his best course was to follow a ship into port and, once
there, ask for directions. With the coins he’d found, perhaps he could even
hire a ship to take him to Darthalla.

 
          
Being
hungry, the kender grabbed some raw fish for dinner—a snap using the cloak—and
thought the plan over while he ate.

 
          
No
better ideas came to him, so he set out to find a likely boat to hitch up with.
Spotting a white sail on the horizon, he dived under the surface once more.
Trip reached the white-sailed galleon well before dark and—unknown to the
captain or crew—hitched a ride.

The Wrath of the Sea

 
         
A gentle
current tugged at the sage’s seaweed body, making the undersea titan sway
slowly from side to side. Her monstrous form seemed to flow out of the coral
grotto. Her leafy feet stood rooted to the sand at the cave’s entrance. The
creature’s green eyes blazed in the deep blue shadows.

 
          
“Wayward
Ula Drakenvaal,” the Sea Sage intoned, “we foresaw that you might deign to
visit us.”

 
          
Ula
bowed low and laid her spear in the sand before the weedy giant. “Great Sage
...” she began.

 
          
“Insult
us not with your false piety!” the sage snapped. Her seaweed form writhed
threateningly, like a thousand angry snakes. “We see your mind, Landwalker.
Your ambition— left unchecked—will bring ruin to all.”

 
          
“I
come because I have seen the Prophecy,” Ula continued, trying to appear unperturbed.
“I seek the green key.”

           
“Care you nothing for your kith and
kin?” the sage hissed. “Care you nothing for the Dragon Isles? Weak the Veil is
already. The fortune you seek lies at the cornerstone. Would you sunder all the
Dargonesti have wrought?” The giant swayed back and forth like an angry cobra.

 
          
“So
the treasure
does
exist,” Ula said,
her green eyes flashing. “Where can I find the green key? Do you have it?”

 
          
“Care
you nothing for
our
people?” the sage
bellowed, rattling her fronds.

 
          
Ula’s
eyes narrowed.
“Our
people cast me
out and shunned me.”

 
          
“All
Dargonesti and the sea are one,” the sage replied. “There is but one
ocean—every drop of water touches every other.”

 
          
“Which
is one reason I walk on land,” Ula said.

 
          
The
sage’s voice grew louder, like the rushing of a waterfall. “The ruin of one can
bring the ruin of all. Will you be that one, Ula Drakenvaal?”

 
          
“I’ve
no desire to be,” Ula said. “I just want the treasure. The Prophecy says you
hold the green key.”

 
          
The
sage roared her displeasure. “The key you speak of is dross! If the Veil falls,
the sea dragon will be but the vanguard of evil. The Dragon Isles will succumb
to the power of the overlords. I see fire, death, destruction, the boiling of
the seas! I see the end of Darthalla and the Dargonesti.”

 
          
Mik
put his hand on Ula’s shoulder. “This isn’t helping,” he whispered. “Try to
calm her down and ask again. Tell her we’re not going to destroy the isles.”

 
          
The
Sea Sage turned her blazing eyes upon the sailor, as if noticing him for the
first time.

 
          
“Defiler!”
the oracle shrieked. “You will bring ruin upon us all!”

 
          
Suddenly,
the creature changed. She straightened and grew taller. Her leafy fronds wound
more tightly around each other, forming into knotted muscles. Huge chitenous
thorns sprouted from the tips of her fingers, and foot-long fangs sprang from
her jaws. The sage’s eyes blazed
red,
and the water
around her swirled angrily.

 
          
She
swung one huge hand at Ula and Mik. They ducked aside—barely in time.

 
          
The
monstrous sea hag lumbered forward, tearing her roots from the sand. Her eyes
were burning coals in the semi-darkness of the deep, and her weedy body writhed
like a thousand serpents. A bright green spark flashed within the cave and
billows of sand whirled up around the hag’s footsteps. Powerful currents surged
around her, hissing and gurgling with her fury.
“Death to the
unbelievers!”

 
          
Mik
instinctively drew his sword and swung at the creature; the sword bit, but did
no damage to the leafy form. The thing swatted him aside with the back of its
hand. The sailor flew through the water and smashed into the sea-bed, kicking
up a huge cloud of silt.

 
          
Ula
ducked under the monster’s follow-up blow. She darted forward and scooped up
her spear off the sand.

 
          
The
sea hag lowered one huge leafy foot at the elf, intending to crush her. Ula
rolled aside, but not quite quick enough. Her long, platinum hair caught under
the monster’s clawed toes. Ula’s head snapped back and she yelped in pain.

 
          
She
swung her spear at the sacred column and batted the pearl-encrusted starfish
off the top. The golden offering sailed through the water and skidded to a halt
in the sand nearby. As it settled, the hag wobbled and her weedy muscles
unraveled slightly.

 
          
Ula
yanked her hair out from beneath the giant foot and turned to swim away. Before
she could escape, though, the hag, with a roar like a typhoon, grabbed the sea
elf by her ankle. Ula tried to kick free, but the monster held her in a grip
like iron.

 
          
“The pearl!”
Ula screamed. “Destroy the pearl!”

 
          
Mik
blinked the dust from his eyes and rose from the sea floor. He lunged for the
golden starfish and scooped it off the sand just as the hag threw Ula at him.

 
          
The
sea elf hit the sailor full in the chest. Their bodies tangled together, and
they both tumbled down into the muck.

 
          
The
weedy hag lumbered forward, hissing and crackling as she came.
“Death to the defilers!”

 
          
Mik
dug the golden starfish out from under Ula’s shapely leg and smashed the pommel
of his scimitar down onto the central gem. The pearl erupted into a shower of
blue sparks and the golden icon shattered into a hundred pieces.

 
          
Instantly,
strong currents swirled around them, building into
an
maelstrom of angry water. The whirlpool tugged mercilessly at the leafy form of
the sea hag. She began to unravel, like a great tangled skein being undone by
an invisible weaver. The hag’s huge body pulled tight, her form becoming
thinner every moment. Knotted muscles, woody bones, and thorny fingers
attenuated into loose strands of seaweed once more. The currents tugged at the
thing’s hair, quickly unraveling her whole face. The fire in her eyes became a
dim spark, quickly extinguished by the dark waters. The rest of the body
followed, swept up like stacked hay caught in a cyclone.

 
          
“Landwalker,
you... shall destroy... us all!” the creature wailed as it dissipated. A few
seconds later, only the empty cave and the gently swaying beds of seaweed
remained.

 
          
Ula
sighed with relief. She untangled herself from Mik and hovered in the water
just above the sailor.

 
          
Mik
picked himself up again. “That went well,” he said.

 
          
Ula
frowned. “And she didn’t tell us where to find the key,” she said.

 
          
“I
think I know,” Mik replied. “To
root
Green key awaits
He walked into the small cave and began to dig amid the
weeds where the sage had first taken shape. Ula swam in beside him and dug as
well.

 
          
Sifting
through the sand, their questing hands discovered a hard, metallic object.
Together, they wrestled it out of the muck and weeds and lifted it into the dim
light.

 
          
The
green key shimmered in the semi-darkness. Its looping golden whorls were
similar to those of the black diamond key. The setting was rounder than the
first key, and—like its companion—asymmetrical.
At the center
of the golden jewelry, rested a flawless emerald.

           
“Clever figuring out the ‘root’ was
the root of the sage,” Ula said.

 
          
“A
bit of brainpower, a bit of luck,” Mik replied. “I saw a reflection flash off
something in the cave when the creature uprooted herself.”

 
          
Ula
puffed out her cheeks and blew off the fine sediment covering the artifact.

 
          
‘Til
keep this one,” she said, weaving the key into the elaborate web of jewelry
holding her clothing together.

 
          
“Will
she re-form, do you think?” Mik asked, as they exited the cave and dusted
themselves
off.

 
          
“We’ll
be to Aurialastican by the time she does,” Ula said.

 
          
Mik
rubbed his beard. “Do you believe what she said, about the isles being in
peril?”

 
          
Ula
shrugged and her platinum hair fell across her shoulders in a very alluring
way. “Sages don’t know everything,” she said. “We’re only two little people in
a very big ocean. I don’t buy all that fish oil about one person making a
difference. Do you?”

 
          
“I
suppose not.
To Aurialastican, then?”

 
          
“And the next key.”

 
          
Mik
and Ula swam up out of the pit to where Shimmer stood waiting. Mounting their
draken ray steeds, they set course for Aurialastican, the capital of the Dragon
Isles.

 
          
Neither
of them noticed the shark with eerie red eyes that followed them.