Where The Ni-Lach

by Marcia J. Bennell

  “Your eyes betray you, Green One. You know what it is, don’t you? The work is unmistakable. The Ni-lach had a way with such trinkets. It is our belief that this collection is but a small sampling of the Ni-lach treasure the legends call the Tamorlee.” The regent paused. “If you are Ni-lach, then you know about this Tamorlee and its whereabouts. Such knowledge could conceivably buy you your freedom. Do we deal?”

  Treasure? Was this then the real reason he was there, Dhal wondered, to lead the Sarissa to some kind of fabled treasure? How to answer? Even if he wanted to bargain for his freedom, he knew nothing about the Tamorlee. Should he admit to being Ni-lach and fail to give them the information they wanted, they would never believe him.

  They left him no choice. “I am a wilder, Regent Lasca. I know nothing of the Ni-lach or the treasure you speak of. A mistake has been made. I have done you and yours no harm. I asked to be freed.”

  For long moments all was silence, then the regent shook his head. “No, I think not. Green One. We had hoped you would cooperate, but I can see that such is not the case. We’ll have the information we want, one way or the other.” He turned to a heavyset man standing next to Saan Drambe. “Saan Omna, you and Saan Dulth shall be responsible for our guest. You will devise tests that will help us learn the truth concerning both this man’s bloodlines and his knowledge of the Tamorlee. There must be various ways to test his power of healing without killing him. As Saan Drambe pointed out, if he is Ni, we have much to learn from him.”

  “And if he is not?” Saan Dulth asked.

  Ignoring Saan Dulth’s question, the regent turned away. “Keep me informed as to your progress. I shall expect full reports daily.”

  As the two guards led Dhalvad away, he locked glances with Saan Drambe. Was it frustration he saw in the man’s face, or pity?

  Chapter 7

  SAAN DULTH AND SAAN OMNA LOST NO TIME IN BEGINNING THE work assigned them. Chained to his cell wall at wrist and ankle, Dhalvad endured hours of questioning. He quickly learned that silence did nothing but infuriate his captors, so rather than let himself be cut to pieces by the lash Saan Omna wielded so expertly, he answered as many questions as possible.

  But Dhalvad did not always have the answers the two men wanted. As the hours dragged on, the lash fell more and more often. Fearing that self-healing would be a confession of his power, he simply blanked out the pain as best he could.

  Time passed. Exhausted by their efforts to try to make him speak of things about which he had no knowledge, such as the use of Ni-lach artifacts or the whereabouts of the fabled Ta-morlee, Saan Dulth and Saan Omna abandoned their task to take council with some of the other ministers on the regent’s staff.

  Before they left the cell they ordered the guards to see that Dhalvad’s hair was washed daily. “Soon you will have no shields to hide behind, Green One,” Saan Omna said, looking down at him.

  Saan Dulth moved toward the cell door. “Personally, I don’t see that his hair color matters much. We all know he’s Ni-lach. The regent seemed more interested in learning about the Tamorlee. I suggest that is where we concentrate our efforts in the future.”

  “You may be right,” Saan Omna agreed. “Still, the regent did say he wanted positive proof of his bloodlines, and proof is what I intend to give him.”

  As the two men turned to leave the cell, one of the guards asked, “Saans, is he to be fed?”

  The two councilmen shared a glance. Saan Omna answered. “No. Give him water but no food. Hunger can be a very effective tool in obtaining cooperation, even from such as that one.”

  “Get him up.”

  Dhalvad opened his eyes and saw that he had company again. Hands pulled him to a sitting position and removed the chains from his wrists and ankles. Dumbly, he lifted his head and looked up at Saan Omna and Saan Dulth. That slight movement caused him to lose his balance, so that he fell against the guard who had freed his hands.

  “Get him to his feet,” Saan Omna ordered.

  Dhalvad bit back a cry as rough hands closed on the bruised and tender flesh of his arms. He felt himself being pulled to his feet, but his legs had no strength to stand.

  “He can’t walk,” one of the guards said.

  “Then carry him!” Saan Omna snapped.

  “He’s too weak,” Saan Dulth protested, “What if he should drown?”

  “He will not drown! The Ni are supposed to be fish men, remember!”

  “That may be, but I don’t think this is necessary. We’ve been at this for three weeks now. His bloodlines are plainly evident. Look at his eyes and his hair! And if that isn’t enough, his surviving the tests we’ve given him is proof that the creature has a life force greater than most, that he’s used his healing powers to survive. Though he hasn’t confessed, we’ve proved he’s Ni. Someone else will have to get him to talk about the Tamorlee. We’ve tried everything we can think of.”

  “All you say is true, but since we both know what the regent will do to him once he has the information he wants, I can see no harm in one last test. I’m curious about the stories of the Ni being able to turn themselves into another form when in water. If such is possible, I would like to see it.”

  “He’s been uncooperative up to this point, Saan Omna. What makes you think he’ll cooperate now?”

  Saan Omna motioned to the two guards. “We won’t know until we try. Bring him along. Carry him if you must.”

  Catching his arms over their shoulders, the guards took Dhalvad’s weight. He managed to pick up his feet for five or six steps, then his legs gave way and he was dragged out through the doorway.

  “Are you coming, Saan Dulth?” Saan Omna asked.

  For a moment the other man did not respond, then he fell in behind the guards. “I hope you know what you’re doing. If anything happens to the Ni before the regent gets the information he wants, we will be—”

  “You worry overmuch. Just this one last test and then we’ll give the regent our final report. A few hours will make no difference.”

  Though lost in a maze of dimly lighted tunnels, Dhalvad knew they were descending into the bowels of the rock city because the air in the tunnelways became cooler and damp against his naked body. Fighting to retain consciousness, he breathed deeply. He understood only that this last test had something to do with water.

  Finally they reached the end of a long tunnelway that sloped gently downward. Dhalvad watched as Saan Omna removed five metal slide bolts from the door that blocked their passage. When the door swung inward, he could hear the sound of water slapping against rock.

  Saan Omna turned. “Bring him.”

  The guards carried him down the ramp and stopped. “Over there.” Saan Omna pointed. “That pool should do. Saan Dulth, light four of those torches and bring them. They’ll give us all the light we need.”

  A few moments later Dhal stood at the brink of a salt-water pool, one of a series of catchbasins created by high-tide overflows into the honeycombed caverns at the base of the city.

  Saan Omna took one of the lighted torches from Saan Dulth, then turned to the guards. “Put this collar aound his neck so we don’t lose him, then put him in.”

  As the two men pulled him up and pushed him toward the edge of the pool, Dhal felt all fear leave him. All that was happening could have been part of a dream. For weeks they had kept him chained like some savage draak. Every third or fourth day they had fed him scraps of bread, just enough to keep him alive. Using knives, ropes, and firebrands, they had tortured him. Too long had fear shadowed Dhal’s every breath. He looked at Saan Omna, numb and resigned to whatever the councilman had planned. Dhalvad hardly cared what came next—even death seemed to have lost its meaning.

  A hand in the middle of his back pushed him forward, then he was falling. He gasped at the shock of cold water as it closed over him. Water swirled into his mouth as he went under.

  But the will to live is strong and is born in every life form. Though his mind said to let go, to breathe in and end th
e struggle, his body fought on. Striking for the surface, his arms and legs moved of their own free will. When he reached air, he spat up water, clearing nose and throat.

  Though he was unable to sustain his weight on land, Dhalvad had just strength enough to keep himself afloat. But the weightlessness he experienced only enhanced the dreamlike state that muddled his thinking. Slowly he kicked toward the edge of the pool.

  “Don’t let him out!” Saan Omna cried. “Use your torches! Keep him swimming!”

  Dhal heard the order but didn’t comprehend its meaning until he reached the edge of the pool and had a ball of flame thrust at his face. Instinctively he slipped beneath the water, pulling his arms up over his head to propel himself down and away from the danger.

  A few seconds later he resurfaced trying for another side of the pool. But one of the guards was there ahead of him, walking the edge of the pool and presenting his torch each time Dhal tried for a hold. He retreated to the center of the pool and tried to rest his arms and legs by floating.

  The shock of cold water had worn off, but he knew that if he didn’t keep moving he would become too numb to keep afloat.

  Suddenly he felt a tug on his collar. He was being pulled to the side of the pool. Thinking Saan Omna was finished, Dhal turned over and grabbed the rope, allowing himself to be drawn in. But when he reached the edge of the pool, he saw Saan Omna bring his torch down close to the water.

  “Has he changed?” Saan Dulth wanted to know.

  Saan Omna stepped on Dhal’s fingers and pushed the torch at his head. “No, not yet,” he growled. “Back into the water, fish man! Do whatever it is you supposed to do and we’ll let you rest.”

  Dhal tried to rest in the water, but Saan Omna would not allow it. By using the collar and rope and a long pole, he forced Dhal to swim.

  Dhal fought back by splashing water on the torches. Though he did manage to put one out, it did no good, for the wet torch was used as a club whenever he neared the side of the pool. Exhaustion crept upon Dhalvad like a gensvolf stalking prey. His movements became slower. He had all he could do just to keep his head above water.

  “I think the legends are false, Saan Omna,” Saan Dulth called across the pool. “Let’s end this foolishness.”

  “Just a little longer. I want to be sure.”

  “No! No more for me! You’re only playing with him! You’ve no interest in the old legends or anything else! All you want is some helpless creature to torture. Let him out before he drowns!”

  Saan Omna’s laugh echoed around the chamber. “I hear you, Saan Dulth, and know you for the weak man you are. Go if you have no stomach for this. I’ll meet you later and we can discuss what we will tell the regent.”

  As Saan Dulth left the cavern, Saan Omna turned back to the pool, ordering the guards to hold their positions. Poking at Dhal with his long pole, Saan Omna tried to make him move.

  Dhal grabbed the pole and somehow managed to hang on. Cursing, Saan Omna laid his torch on the rock floor and began pulling Dhal in toward the edge of the pool. There followed a brief wrestling match, which Dhal lost. Slipping beneath the water to avoid being struck in the head with the pole, he suddenly realized that he had lost all feeling in his legs. Still holding his breath, he felt himself slowly rising, but he knew that when he reached the surface he would not be able to keep himself from slipping back under.

  His head broke the surface. Pushing down with his hands, he forced himself up high enough to allow him a chance to breathe. A great splash sent water swirling into his mouth.

  He became aware of raised voices, then he heard another splash and someone was floundering in the water. He opened his eyes and saw shadowed forms moving around the poolside. A tug on his collar turned him over onto his face and, with the last of his strength, he reached for the rope. Then he was being pulled through the water. Holding his breath, he fought to turn over, but his legs wouldn’t obey the simplest of commands.

  He began to release the air in his lungs, knowing he was dead, then his hand bumped against something and he felt fingers catch at the metal collar around his neck. His head was drawn up and out of the water.

  Gasping for air, Dhal tried to pull himself out of the pool, but his strength was gone. He clung desperately to the rock, and he coughed up more water.

  “Dhal. Dhal?”

  A shudder ran through his frame as the familiar voice sounded in his ear. “Gi?” he whispered, hardly daring to believe.

  “Here, Gi,” another voice said. “Let me have him. Let go the rope.” Strong hands fastened around Dhal’s wrists and he was pulled up out of the water. Though he had his eyes open, he could not see anything but shadows.

  But he could hear. “Haradan.”

  When Dhal woke, the first face he saw belonged to Saan Drambe. The shock of seeing him rather than Haradan brought a flood of despair. He was still a prisoner of the Sarissa. He fought back tears. Blinking rapidly, he looked past Saan Drambe to the wall behind him. The wall was rough-cut stone, the shadows caused by the unfinished surface creating strange patterns.

  He tried to move and found it impossible. He was swathed in heavy blankets. “Where am I?” His voice sounded strange to his ears. He tried again. “Where am I?”

  Saan Drambe leaned over and spoke in a low voice. “You’re in a secret chamber beneath the Kniat Temple. You’re safe here.”

  “Safe?”

  “Yes. Only I know of this place, I and my son, Efan. We were lucky to get you out when we did. A few more minutes and you would have been beyond help.”

  “It was you who came to the pool?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought—I dreamed it was Haradan and Gi. I thought they had come for me.”

  Saan Drambe’s lips softened into a smile. “They did.” Moving to the side, he motioned to the other side of the room. “Look.”

  Dhalvad turned his head and saw a blanketed form asleep on the floor not more than three paces away. That mop of unruly, dark hair was unmistakable. “Haradan.” The tears he had fought now came with relief.

  “He hasn’t left your side since we brought you here three days ago,” Saan Drambe said softly. “He fell asleep just a little while ago, as did your little furred friend. They’ve been very worried about you. We all have. It’s been quite a struggle to get you to take any food or water. How are you feeling now?”

  “I don’t know. Numb. It’s hard to think. How did they get here, Haradan and Gi?”

  “I brought them. When you were given over to Saan Omna, I knew what would happen. He always enjoyed hurting others.” Saan Drambe shrugged. “Fearing you might be permanently harmed, I sought ways to free you. When logic and bribery failed, it left nothing but direct action. I knew about your foster father and decided that if anyone would be willing to help me help you, it would be he. It took me a week to get in touch with him, then we made some plans. Since it was impossible to take you out of your cell—too many guards coming and going—we had to make other arrangements. When I learned from Saan Dulth that Saan Omna had one last test he wanted to make, at the lower pools, Haradan and I decided it would be a good place to attempt a rescue. Saan Omna was foolish not to bring more guards with him.”

  “What happened?”

  Dhal saw a grim smile touch Saan Drambe’s lips. “The son of Omna is dead. He and his two guards were found floating in the pools yesterday morning. According to the rumor being circulated, you are responsible for their deaths. Some say that after you killed them you turned yourself into a fish man and swam out to the sea through one of the submerged channels in the rock. Those who disbelieve the legends of fish men are now busy searching the lower tunnels to ensure you won’t kill again.”

  “What happened to Saan Dulth?”

  “We saw him pass and waited until he was out of sight.”

  Dhalvad looked at Saan Drambe, one question filling his mind. “Why?”

  “Why did we let Saan Dulth go, or why did I help you?”

  “The last.�
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  “I will be truthful, Dhalvad. I want something from you, though finding you in the condition we did, I begin to doubt your ability to give me what I desire. But time enough for talk later. Rest now, you are safe here.”

  Chapter 8

  AS THE DAYS PASSED. MUCH OF HIS TIME WAS SPENT EITHER eating or sleeping. Dhalvad was so weak those first few days that Haradan had to hold him up while he spooned a meat and grain stew into his mouth. Coming and going at irregular intervals, Cerl sar Drambe supplied them with food, water, and information. Several times he sat down with them and spoke about escape from the warrens; Dhal knew that it was his weakness that was holding everything up.

  One week from the day Haradan had pulled him from the underground pool, Dhalvad stood for the first time and, with Haradan’s support, walked around the confines of the rock-walled room. Gi walked in front of him, watching his every step and giving encouragement with soft whistle clicks. When Dhal returned to his pallet, Gi came and sat beside him, leaning carefully against his leg.

  “Tired?” Haradan asked, taking a seat across from Dhal.

  “Yes, but it feels good to move. How much longer do you think before I’ll be strong enough to leave here?”

  “I know how you’re feeling, Dhal. You aren’t the only one who will be glad to leave this place. And I swear, once I get out of Annaroth, I’ll never again enter another Sarissa city, even to trade.” Haradan looked down at the olvaar. “I think Gi feels much the same.”

  Gi-arobi whistled an affirmative, his golden eyes going from Dhal to Haradan. Several days before, while Gi lay sleeping, Haradan had told Dhal that he had returned to the cabin to find Gi waiting. Later, when Haradan left to discuss Dhal’s release with Saan Drambe, the olvaar had not allowed himself to be left behind.

  Surprised by Gi’s determination to find him, Dhal had begun to reassess the bond that was between them. No pet this, but rather a friend, a thinking, loving being who cared enough to sacrifice his home and comfort for a chance to help. Dhal rubbed the back of Gi’s neck and watched as the olvaar’s eyes closed in pleasure.