Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles

by Sullivan, Stephen D (v1. 1)

  Shimmer and Lakuda never seemed to tire, nor did they stop for food. Soon Mik found his eyes drifting shut despite his discomfort.

  Entirely without realizing it he crossed into the land of dreams. There he sailed a fine, proud ship, larger and newer than Kingfisher. Old friends, some long dead, others he’d left behind on this voyage, manned the ship. They dived for pearls and recovered sunken treasure. Trip clung to the rigging and prowled the deck, constantly getting underfoot. Mik smiled and breathed the clean salt air. The wind tugged at his hair and raised goose-bumps on his dark skin.

  “Mik, look!” the kender burbled.

  Mik blinked, and immediately the aches of captivity returned to his limbs. He felt the deep sea currents tugging at his hair and clothes, and he tasted the pristine magical air as it filled his lungs. “Trip?” he asked sleepily.

  “The city! Look!”

  Mik raised his weary head and gazed where Trip indicated.

  Ahead of them, the ocean shimmered blue with flickering iridescent light. Within the glow, an amazing conglomeration of architecture rose from the ocean floor. Houses formed of coral, seaweed, and pieces of sunken ships dotted the submarine canyon. Each dwelling lay piled on top of the next, as the jumbled village reached toward the unseen surface far above.

  Mountainous reefs surrounded the canyon in a horseshoe shaped wall, forming a natural bowl protecting the strange village. A tangled mesh of seaweed, like a living net, defended the front of the settlement. Sea elf guards swam patrol just outside of the netting.

  Elves, fish, rays, and many aquatic creatures that Mik couldn’t recognize darted in and out of Reeftown’s gently swaying architecture. Tiny glowing life forms sped among the coral canyons like shooting stars flitting through the night sky. Cool blue and green lights leaked from windows cut into coral walls, or filtered between the cracks in the houses’ odd construction. Some buildings looked like huge seaweed cocoons, while others were formed from the rotting cabins of submerged galleons.

  “It’s beautiful,” murmured Trip.

  Twelve

  Reeftown

  “Yes . . . beautiful,” Mik replied. In his mind, though, a picture of the northern butterfly fish formed. It was a beautiful creature, arrayed in featherlike multi-colored scales. Each tip of its delicate- looking raiment, though, ended in a spine coated with deadly poison. That is how Reeftown looked to him.

  They swam toward the titanic fronds of kelp circling the town’s perimeter. The living barrier swayed gently in the current. Two Dargonesti sentries stood guard beside a coral gateway in a rocky wall at the foot of the weeds.

  “Flimsy-looking . . . defense,” Trip bubbled.

  “Say that after the weeds have snapped your neck, crushed you, and left your body as fodder for the sharks,” Shimmer replied.

  “Test it, if you like,” Lakuda added.

  The kender might have tried it, if he hadn’t been tethered to Mik. As it was, his wide hazel eyes scanned the fence’s perimeter, hoping that someone else might give it a go.

  As the four of them approached the coral gate, a lance- toting sentry in turtle-shell armor stepped up to meet them. He bowed low.

  “Felicitous greetings at your return, Towriboss Lakuda,” he said.

  “I trust your forage was successful,” added an elf woman, wearing golden seashells and carrying a trident, who stood at the gate beside the turtle-shelled guard.

  “Volrek . . . Tila,” Lakuda replied, giving the man and woman a nod in acknowledgement.

  The sentries stepped out of the way to let the Townboss of Reeftown pass.

  “We’ve sent the other foragers straight to your villa, milady,” Tila said. “It seems a fair haul.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Lakuda said to the woman.

  Tila bowed.

  Mik and Trip exchanged a nervous glance.

  Lakuda, Shimmer, and their captives passed through the gate into Reeftown. During the brief stop at the gate, Mik and Trip had recovered enough energy to swim along with their captors—which was better than being dragged.

  Mik saw now that their previous observations about Reeftown were in error. Close up, the village looked less like a proud, undersea city and more like a refuse heap. The town was mainly composed of cast-offs and marine junk. The buildings seemed shabby and in ill repair. Scavenger eels circled through the streets, gobbling up pieces of rotten wood and decaying seaweed.

  Despite the sorry state of most of the construction, the town pulsed with life. Sea elves bustled to and fro, swimming down the avenues, over and through the buildings.

  Most of the inhabitants looked a bit ragged themselves. Certainly none had the proud grace and beauty of Ula, nor did they match the rakish vigor and confidence of Lakuda. None were as large or powerful-looking as Shimmer, either.

  As they swam by, a number of the locals called out to them. Many shouted congratulations to Lakuda and Shimanloreth for another successful hunt. More than a few laughed at the captives and derided their situation.

  “You won’t get much for those, milady!” one elf called.

  “Why not slit their wrists and leave them for the sharks?” added another. “Fish food is all they’re good for!”

  “Let them float back to the surface where they belong!” called a third. “We don’t need their kind in Reeftown.”

  Lakuda merely chuckled in reply.

  In short order they arrived before a huge structure leaning against the lofty coral escarpment at the far end of town. Boss Lakuda’s undersea hall combined the best and worst of Reeftown architecture. In places the reef had been shaped into towers, which jutted out from the cliff face at odd angles, like the spines of a huge sea urchin. Corridors of woven seaweed connected some of the turrets. Others debouched into huge shells or the hulls of sunken ships.

  The sides of Lakuda’s reef glittered with luminescent undersea life. From a distance, it looked like a huge, glowing gem. Up close, though, it had the same decrepit, thrown- together appearance as the rest of Reeftown. Seaweed netting like that at the gate surrounded the hall, and armed guards swam patrol around the perimeter.

  Lakuda led her captives to a big door at the head of a long coral corridor stretching from the manor out to the protective netting.

  A muscular elf with a trident stood beside the door with another guard. The elf bowed, then he and his companion unlocked the big door and stepped aside.

  Lakuda, Shimmer, and their captives swam through a long, iridescent, tube-shaped corridor into the interior of the hall. The entryway debouched into a huge grottolike room, with exits on many levels and no stairways. Four guards hovered by a huge golden double door near the top of the chamber. Servants bustled through the room, towing sacks and nets behind them as they swam from one corridor into the next.

  Lakuda headed for the golden door, with Mik and the rest trailing behind. She bobbed her head to the lead sentry.

  “Lady Lakuda,” he said deferentially, bowing.

  He rose and opened the door. They swam into a wide passageway with arching white ribs that supported a curving tube made of a pink, pearl-like substance. The corridor was short and emptied into a big room that appeared to be the interior of a massive conch shell.

  Lakuda tossed the rope holding the captives to Shimmer and flicked across the room. She swam to a swath of golden netting on the far side and arranged herself comfortably within it. Several guards appeared from the seaweed curtains on either side of Lakuda’s ‘throne’ as she settled in.

  “That’s better,” she purred. “Home at last.” The Town- boss folded her skinny arms over her gold-encrusted chest and smiled. Her dark eyes strayed to a large seashell, brimming with treasure, hanging in the center of the room.

  “A good haul today, milady,” one of the guards said.

  Lakuda nodded tersely. “Shimmer,” she said, “combine our booty with the rest—per our custom. I’ll divide it tomorrow, after all this outing’s foragers have returned.”

  Shimmer no
dded and emptied out the netting sacks he’d been carrying. “What about... them?” he asked, glancing at Mik and Trip.

  “Take the prisoners to the holding chambers while we make a determination of their worth,” she replied. “And make sure you relieve them of any valuables we haven’t discovered yet.”

  “Yes, Townboss,” Shimmer said with a slight nod.

  He dragged Mik and Trip toward a curtained exit on the left side of the chamber and two guards escorted the group that way.

  Shimmer pulled the seaweed curtain aside, then turned back to Lakuda. “I’ll return shortly,” he said.

  “Of course,” Lakuda replied with sly smile. “I look forward to it, Shimanloreth.”

  Shimmer turned away and swam with the prisoners and guards down a long coral tube that slanted at first into the reef, then turned upward once more. They passed through several side passages and soon came to a chamber that was only half filled with water.

  Two more guards stood just below the water’s surface, guarding the chamber beyond. They stepped aside to let Shimmer and the others through. The bronze knight led the captives up out of the water onto a shelf above the pool. A corridor stretched away from the pool into the darkness.

  Shimmer unbound the captives while the guards pointed their spears at Mik and Trip. Trip hopped up and down, shaking his head, trying to get the water out of his ears.

  “What happens now?” Mik asked.

  “Now you wait,” Shimmer replied uncomfortably.

  “What kind of name is Shimanloreth?” the kender asked. “Solamnic? I’ve never heard of an undersea knight before. Does the salt water get inside your armor? Does it itch? How do you breathe? Is it a spell, or in the armor? Has the armor been giving you trouble since all the world’s magic began to fade?”

  “Hold your tongue, kender,” Shimmer said. He held out one large, bronze-armored hand. “I’ll take your breathing devices, please.”

  Reluctantly, Mik removed his fish necklace; Trip leaned forward and spat the remnants of his magical seaweed into Shimmer’s palm. The bronze knight’s orangish eyes narrowed behind his visor.

  He handed the necklace and the wad of magical seaweed to one of the guards and said, “Follow me. There’s a living chamber at the far end of the corridor. It’s dry enough that you should be comfortable, and even has a view of the city. You’ll be fed regularly—if not well—and you won’t be mistreated. Trying to escape will just get you killed, so there’s no point in attempting it.”

  “We wouldn’t want to cut into your profits by dying,” Mik said.

  “Stay out of trouble and you may see your homes again one day,” Shimmer replied stoically.

  “Can we get a tour of the city?” Trip asked. “Fd really like a look around.”

  If Shimmer was amused, his bronze-helmeted face didn’t show it. “You may see more of Reeftown than you want before your captivity is over, kender,” he said. “Get moving, now.”

  With an insincere bow, Mik turned and walked away from the pool toward the inner chamber. Trip skipped along beside him, with Shimmer bringing up the rear. As they went, voices drifted to them up the coral hallway.

  “It sounds like we have company,” Mik said.

  Trip’s small face brightened. “Hey!” he said. “I recognize that voice!”

  Mik smiled as he recognized it, too. With just a brief glance at his companion, he ran the last few steps into the chamber; Trip followed right behind.

  Shimmer stopped dead at the entrance of the room, while his captives sprinted ahead.

  Trip’s childlike face broke into a huge grin as he saw his former shipmate, and shouted, “Ula!”

  Thirteen

  The Dragon’s Rage

  Mog crouched behind a screen of long weeds and peered at the amazing city of lights. He’d never seen anything like it before. His dragon-like senses drank in every sight and smell until he was nearly intoxicated with the novelty.

  Still, even giddy, he was careful to keep out of sight of Reeftown’s guards. Yes, the elfin patrols seemed weak and frail compared with his own might, but the dragonspawn knew that many feeble creatures might overcome a single more powerful one.

  If Mog were to fail on his mission, he would face Tempest’s wrath, and that was a fate worse than death. Mog felt the dragon in the hack of his mind even now, calling to him, cajoling him, threatening him—just as she did all her servants. The tiny Turbidus leech on his hack binned when she was angry, and sent thrills down his spine when she was pleased. Thus Mog’s mood always mirrored that of his sea dragon mistress.

  She had been angry for months now, frustrated with her inability to pierce the Veil protecting the Dragon Isles. She had destroyed dozens of ships in her fury, uncaring of their cargo or true destination. That some of them may have been headed to the isles had been enough reason to vent her fury.

  The ships’ contents satiated the hunger of Tempest’s servants—sharks, razorfish, numerous and various-sized Turbidus leeches, and a small contingent of dragonspawn such as Mog. As the oldest, cleverest, and strongest of the spawn, Mog always got the juiciest shares of the prey. Even the sharks could not compete with him.

  In that sense, the last months had been one long smorgasbord of carnage. The trail of destruction and chaos had been pleasurable. Those past pleasures, though, were balanced out by the fire of the sea dragon’s rage now coursing through Mog’s brain.

  He could feel her prowling the deep at the furthest range of the Veil’s magic She had not been able to come close—but her servants had.

  Trailing the shipwreck survivors was not easy; the magic of the isles confused the senses. Keeping the victims in close sight was a difficult task, since Tempest’s spies had to remain hidden. Some Turbidus leeches were small, though, and communicated telepathically with their mistress. And the sharks and others she enslaved numbered many—enough, laid end to end, to stretch for leagues. Her servants formed a vast chain with Mog commanding them, following the battered mariners and their captors from the wreck of Kingfisher to Reeftown.

  How could these fleshy, humanoid creatures penetrate the Veil when Tempest could not? It was Mog’s duty to find out.

  Scavengers swam near Mog’s hiding place. They were only two—a Dargonesti man and woman—and they towed a largish seaweed sack of plunder between them. The size and the weight of the bag slowed them considerably.

  Mog flashed from his hiding place and took the woman by surprise.

  Before she even knew what had hit her, the dragonspawn snapped her neck, and her body sank to the sand below.

  The man turned, a cry of warning on his lips, a spear in his hand. Mog clamped his jaws over the man’s head, stifling the cry. The dragonspawn’s rear talons opened up the man’s belly, spilling the elf s guts into the dark ocean.

  Mog drank the blood that leaked from the man’s mouth until his victim stopped quivering, and the elf s blue limbs hung limply in the water.

  Quickly, the dragonspawn dragged the corpses back into the weeds to feast.

  Fourteen

  Allies & Adversaries

  Mik smiled at the blue-skinned dargonesti. “It’s good to see you, Ula,” he said.

  “And you, captain,” she replied. Her skin looked slightly burnt, once more—a souvenir of her encounter with Tempest’s steaming breath.

  “Me too,” Trip said.

  Ula nodded indulgently, then the figure in the doorway caught her attention and her lithe body stiffened.

  “Shimanloreth,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Nor I, you, Ula Drakenvaal,” he replied, his voice cold and strangely formal.

  “We thought you were dead,” Trip continued, oblivious to the tension between the knight and the elf.

  Ula took a long, deep breath. “I thought you were dead as well, minnow,” she said. “Though I held out some hope, when I saw my cellmate.”

  “What cellmate?” Mik and Trip asked simultaneously. They looked
around the room and spotted a figure standing in the shadows near a round window looking out over the city. “Karista!” Mik said. “I can’t believe you’re alive!”

  The aristocrat turned to face them, anger burning in her steely eyes. “I have a hard time believing it, too,” she hissed, glaring at the kender.

  “I hope you’re not angry about the seaweed,” Trip said, “I just borrowed it, and—“

  “The seaweed!” Karista shrieked. “The ship is lost and all the crew killed, save the four of us! Everything is a disaster!” Trip lowered his eyes and dug his toe into the coral floor of the room. “It’s not like it’s all my fault or anything.” Karista continued, her voice low and deadly. “I hadn’t connected it before, but the trouble began after we picked up that ill-omened sea elf. What happened to the last ship you were on, Ula? Pamak and the other sailors said you were cursed!” “Hah!” Ula said. “So I caused your ship to sink? It’s that same kind of superstitious nonsense that got me tied to a raft and left to die in the first place. I caused no ships to sink. People—both human and elf—make their own luck.”

  “That’s certainly true in your case,” Shimmer added, speaking through clenched teeth.

  Ula shot him an angry glance, then turned back to Karista. “Look to yourself, milady Meinor, if you don’t like the way things turned out. What happened had nothing to do with me. I was just an innocent on your ruinous journey. What would I have to gain by wrecking your fine ship?” She ran one slender finger over her newly burnt skin. “A nice scalding from a dragon? A bludgeoning from Lakuda’s scavengers? Being thrown in a cell owned by a woman who’d just as soon see my head on a pike?”

  “How do we know you’re not in league with these people?” Karista replied. “You seem to know them well enough.”

  “Yes,” Mik said quietly. “You do seem to know them.”

  Ula turned back to Shimanloreth. “Let me out of here, Shim,” she said angrily.

  “You know I can’t,” the knight replied.