Or unless it was forced.
Suddenly the Sea elf suspected what mischief the dragon turtle had in mind. She dived deep and frantically called the dolphin back to her side.
I need to see that ship. We must leap above the waves! she urged him.
The dolphin was not easily convinced. For many moments they argued in vehement clicks and chattering that transformed the waters around them into a dizzying whorl of vibrating sound. At last the dolphin conceded and allowed Anarzee to take hold of his dorsal fin. Both of the sea folk swam upward with all their strength, and then hurtled themselves up into the final spring.
As Anarzee clung to the leaping dolphin, she saw her beloved’s ship lurch suddenly toward the east. It was as she feared: The dragon turtle was forcibly herding Darthoridan out to sea.
Without pausing for thought, Anarzee left the dolphin behind and sped toward the doomed ship.
The night was nearly spent when Vhoori Durothil’s skiff touched the docks of Sumbrar. On the main island, the midsummer festival was still in full celebration. All the people of Evermeet, not only the elves of every race but all the other fey creatures who made the island their home, marked the longest day of summer with music and dance, feasting and revelry. Though Vhoori was not adverse to gaiety, he was eager to return to his island, and his tower, and his all-consuming work.
Vhoori’s accomplishments had outstripped most early predictions of his potential. His skill at magical communications, in particular, was uncanny. Many times he had foreseen approaching danger and given warning, and so effective was he at this task that the entire outpost island of Sumbrar had been placed under his rule. A large contingent of warriors were garrisoned there, and a score of fighting ships were kept on alert. But perhaps Sumbrar’s most potent defense was the magic wielded by its Circle. Vhoori Durothil’s tower had become one of the largest in the elven realm. Many young mages vied for the honor of training with Sumbrar’s High Mage.
Yet there were back on Evermeet many elves who feared Vhoori Durothil’s growing power, and who spoke out against the dangers of isolating a tower of High Magi, and the dubious wisdom of placing a considerable fighting force in the hands of a single elf. Chief among these dissenting voices was that of Darthoridan Craulnober.
Vhoori gritted his teeth at the thought of his rival. At the last council meeting, not more than a fortnight past, Darthoridan had spoken long and eloquently about the dangerous divisions growing between the various races of elves. He had even had the nerve to point out that only Gold elves were accepted into Sumbrar Tower, and that only Gold elves fought in the outpost guard.
This was true enough. In Vhoori’s eyes, this practice was merely a matter of preference and convenience, but Darthoridan’s words had made it appear a sinister plot. The seeds of suspicion had been planted in many a fertile Moon-elven mind. This, Vhoori could not allow. The mage could ill afford to have attention focused upon his work, and he had no intention in any event of becoming accountable to a Gray elf.
Nor was this the worst that Darthoridan had done. The Craulnober upstart was gaining ground in the Council, and was even spoken of as a possible High Councilor. Vhoori Durothil fully intended that this honor would be his. He had chosen his wedding gift for Darthoridan accordingly.
Somewhat cheered by this thought, the mage alighted from his skiff and hastened to the uppermost room of his tower. There he kept the Accumulator, as well as many, many other magical objects he had collected or created. Even now, in the darkest hour of the night, the room would be bright with the combined light of a hundred softly glowing spheres.
As Vhoori entered the chamber, he noted that he was not alone. Before one such globe sat Mariona Leafbower, her eyes fixed upon the globe and her pale face twisted in an expression of intense longing.
Vhoori pulled up short, startled by the captain’s presence in this, his inner sanctum. His next thought was concern for what the elf woman might have seen. Each magical globe was a window, and some of the sights they revealed were for his eyes alone.
But predictably enough, the captain gazed into the globe that probed the stars beyond Selûne.
The mage cleared his throat. “If you wished to see the stars, Captain Leafbower, you had only to walk outside the tower. This is my private room. There is no reason for you to be here.”
Mariona glanced up. A wry smiled lifted one corner of her mouth as she took note of her host’s consternation. “No reason?” she echoed dryly. “It’s midsummer night, Vhoori. Maybe I came here hoping to celebrate with you.”
A startled moment passed before the mage understood this comment for what it was. He could not imagine intimacy of any kind with this tart-tongued elf woman, but he had become well acquainted with her tendency to say things meant to throw him off stride. That had worked, once. These days he merely responded in kind.
“I am surprised you noted the changing of seasons, much less the coming of the solstice,” Vhoori said mildly. “Perhaps you have become more attuned to this world than you like to admit.”
Mariona’s lip curled into a sneer. “Not likely! The sooner I shake the sand of this wretched place off my boots, the happier I’ll be!” She rose abruptly and stalked over to the mage, her fists planted on her hips. “And speaking of which, when can I leave?”
“Leave?”
“Don’t play the fool!” she snapped. “The first ship is nearly full-grown. The original helm has been rebuilt and tested beneath the waves. The air envelope held; the ship is fully maneuverable. I can leave this place, and I want to do so at once.”
Vhoori sighed. “We have had this conversation many times, Captain Leafbower. Yes, there is one ship ready for starflight. But tell me, who would crew this ship? Who but you is eager to make this long trip? Shi’larra?”
Mariona glared at the mage, but she could not refute his words. She had not seen her former navigator for years. Shi’larra had declared herself utterly content with her new home, and had long ago disappeared into the deep forests of Evermeet.
Nor was the forest elf the only member of Green Monarch’s crew to have gone native. One by one, the elves had slipped ashore, armed with papers of introduction from Lord Durothil himself.
The captain hissed in frustration. The fools had probably spent the night dancing beneath the stars, never giving a thought to the days when they had traveled among them!
Well, to the Abyss with them. Surely there was another way off this rock.
“What about your wizards?” she asked grudgingly.
In the years since she’d made landfall, Vhoori had learned some of the secrets of star travel, mostly by experimentation, and had taught them to several young magi of his Circle. Any one of the Gold elven wizards could get her where she wanted to go. Mariona had seen better helmsmen in her time, but she’d certainly also seen worse. And Sumbrar’s warriors were an elite group, well trained and highly skilled in the ways of ships and seas. Surely some of them would be eager to travel the stars. There was glory and adventure, and even treasure aplenty to be had in the service of the Elven Imperial Navy.
“My people know their roles, and they are content with them,” Vhoori said. “And truly, why would any elf want to leave Evermeet, but for Arvandor itself?”
The mage spoke simply, calmly, as if stating a widely accepted truth. As indeed it was, Mariona reluctantly acknowledged. At that moment, the captain understood at last the futility of her long-cherished dream.
She let out an oath and backhanded the nearest globe. The priceless, magical crystal flew across the small room and shattered against the wall.
Anger flared in the High Mage’s eyes. Mariona lifted her chin and stared him down, almost daring him to strike. At this moment of anger and loss and utter frustration, she would have welcomed the killing blow.
But Vhoori’s face softened, and he came to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You have not lost the stars. If only you would open your heart, you would experience their wonder again.”
<
br /> The elf woman spun away from him and threw herself into a chair. Never had she felt so utterly defeated. “All these years on this gods-forsaken rock, and for what? I will never leave—I’ll be trapped on Sumbrar until I die!”
“This world is a wide place, Captain Leafbower. I have come to know you and your nature, and have heard from your former crew the reputation of your adventurous clan. You are not content to remain long in any one place. But the seas of Aber-toril, the scattered lands and ancient cultures, are not these things worth exploring? If you so desire, I will see that you have a ship and crew.”
A tendril of interest worked its way into Mariona’s benumbed mind. It was not wildspace, but even so …
“I don’t suppose you have decent maps and star charts,” she muttered.
Vhoori suppressed a smile. “As to that, you may judge for yourself. My library is at your disposal. Star charts we have, but it may well be that you can greatly improve them. Certainly, you have an insight that no one on Evermeet can equal. Your work will guide elven ships for many centuries to come.” He paused, as if beset by sudden doubt. “That is, if you can captain a ship upon the water. It is easier, I would think, to sail through the endless void than to deal with matters of tides and winds.”
The captain’s eyes kindled. “I was walking the deck of sea-going ships when you were still in nappies, and furthermore—”
She broke off suddenly, for the mage had dissolved into ringing laughter. Realizing that she was being teased—and more importantly, that he had deliberately reminded her of a time and a work that she had loved—Mariona gave him a grudging smile.
“Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind sailing these waters myself!”
With these words, she caught up one of the many globes that showed a sea-scape and tossed it playfully to the mage. Vhoori caught it, glanced down. His eyes widened, and he returned his gaze to the image within.
“Well, indeed. It would seem that my gift to Darthoridan Craulnober was fortunately timed,” he murmured.
Curious, Mariona rose and came to look over Vhoori’s shoulder into the globe. Within the magical sphere she saw the image of a ship, crystal-grown like an elven man-o-war. The sails, which glowed with multicolored light, hung slack, flapping helplessly in the gathering wind despite the efforts of the elven sailors who labored at the ropes. Another cluster of elves gathered at the stern, firing upon the enormous creature that nudged and prodded the boat out into an odd, unnatural band of turbulence. The creature, by all appearances a titanic turtle, was odd enough. But stranger still—at least to Mariona’s eyes—was the invisible boundary that abruptly separated the calm sea from the storm.
“The dragon turtle wishes to destroy the ship,” Vhoori reasoned. He did not sound particularly displeased.
“Not so,” the captain said. “Just look at the size of that thing! It could shatter a crystal hull with a few swats of its tail. And I’d be willing to bet my favorite dagger that this dragon has other weapons worth using.”
“Its breath,” Vhoori admitted. “If the dragon turtle wished to do so, it could send a scalding cloud of steam over the ship that would certainly kill most of the crew.”
“And likely damage the ship, as well,” Mariona retorted. “That’s not its intent.”
“What, then?” the mage demanded, not liking the direction that her reasoning was taking.
The captain tapped the globe with one finger. “Three ships,” she said, indicating three specks of heat and color in the distant seas. “My guess is, these people want your ship. The dragon turtle is in alliance with them—or more likely, they’re both answering to whoever sent this wizard weather.”
“This is no wizard’s work,” Vhoori mused as he studied intently the storm raging within the globe. Already the ships that Mariona’s sharp eyes had discerned were coming fully into sight. They were long and low, each bearing a single large, square sail. Vhoori had seen such ships before. They belonged to pirates from the north, primitive humans who lacked the sort of magic needed to create such a storm.
There was only one explanation for such a gale: It was the work of Umberlee herself. For whatever reason, the capricious goddess had made the raiders’ purpose her own.
By her power, every bit of speed had been coaxed from the sturdy little ships. The sails were tightly curved and as full of wind as they could be without rending under the force. Even the masts seemed to be bent almost to the breaking point.
“Raiders, I’ll warrant. They want to capture the elven ship unharmed,” Mariona said, answering Vhoori’s question before he could put words to it. “It will be easier for them to slip past Evermeet’s defenses in an elven ship, to strike at other ships or even to raid coastal towns.”
“This we cannot allow,” Vhoori said. He raised his gaze to Mariona Leafbower’s eyes, and saw grim determination reflected back as if from a mirror.
“You promised me a ship. I can sail those waters,” she said, nodding toward the globe and its image of wild seas.
“No doubt,” Vhoori responded. “But we could never reach the elven ship in time to bring aid. At least, not by sea. Come.” He turned and strode quickly from the tower room.
The elf woman’s brow furrowed with puzzlement. Then Vhoori’s meaning came to her, and a fierce smile set flame to her eyes. She fell into step beside the mage. “You said ‘we.’ You’re coming in to battle?”
“This night Evermeet’s first starwing ship will take its maiden flight,” the mage said. “Who better to take the helm?”
The captain nodded. “Good. You’ve got more power than any helmsman I’ve sailed with. But remember, I’m the captain and this battle is mine. Do you think you remember how to take orders?”
“That is not my strongest skill,” he said dryly. “But yes, this battle is yours to fight—and mine to win.”
Mariona cast a sharp, sidelong glance at the mage. She did not care who got the credit for this victory. The prospect of walking again upon the deck of an airborne ship was enough for her. But there was an odd note in Vhoori’s voice that she disliked and mistrusted. More was brewing than an eminent battle against a dragon turtle, a trio of human pirate ships, and an angry sea goddess—as if that wasn’t enough!
To steady her nerves, Mariona brought to mind one of her favorite maxims: “If it were easy, it wouldn’t be worth doing,” she muttered. By that token, or so the elven captain strongly suspected, her night’s work would be worthwhile indeed.
As Anarzee swam desperately toward her beloved’s ship, a large, moon-cast shadow fell over her. Another followed swiftly. The Sea elf paused in her headlong race just long enough to glance up as the third ship swept past her.
Human ships. The Sea elf had seen such ships before, and knew well what manner of human sailed them.
“Pirates,” she murmured, sending a rift of bubbles floating up into the troubled sea.
The dragon turtle’s part in this was now apparent. Since no human ship could pass unbidden through the magical barriers surrounding Evermeet, the pirates had made a bargain with the sea monster. Anarzee wondered what the humans had offered the dragon turtle in exchange for delivery of the elven ship. Treasure, most likely, for the promise of elves to devour was a hollow one—if that had been the dragon turtle’s only purpose, the creature could surely have carried it out without the aid of human pirates.
Anarzee twisted in the water and swam upward with quick, powerful strokes. Her head broke the surface and she bobbed there in the turbulent waters as she took stock of the situation.
The elven warriors aboard Sea-Riven fought desperately against their gigantic foe. Magic was not a viable solution, not at such close range. Any spells powerful enough to hurt the creature would almost certainly destroy the ship, as well. Their arrows, even the huge ballista bolts, merely bounced off the dragon turtle’s armor. Any vulnerable areas the creature possessed were hidden beneath the waves.
As if his thoughts echoed Anarzee’s, Darthoridan vaulted over
the rail of the ship and plunged down toward the monstrous turtle. In his hand was a long metal tube, from which protruded the barbed tip of a spear. A second spear was strapped to his back.
Anarzee caught her breath; Darthoridan’s attack was a brave and desperate move. The turtle’s shell was a mass of ridges and spikes, and Darthoridan might as well have been leaping headlong into a mass of braced and ready weapons.
But Darthoridan came up onto his feet and at once began to pick his way along the spiny center ridge of the shell, heading for the creature’s head.
A small cry of relief escaped the Sea elf. Darthoridan’s shoulder was bleeding badly, but at least he had survived the leap. She began to swim for the dragon turtle, never once taking her eyes from the brave warrior she loved.
Just then the dragon turtle butted the ship again. The impact cost Darthoridan his footing; the elf stumbled and rolled painfully down the bumpy curve of the creature’s back. He slammed into one of the ridges that lined the edge of the shell. Not bothering to rise, he began to work his away around the macabre island, using the ridges as handholds, toward the opening from which protruded the massive front leg.
Anarzee nodded grimly. The harpoon Darthoridan carried could fire with considerable force. If he could get a clear shot through the folds of tough, leathery skin of the dragon turtle’s leg, he could pierce the creature’s heart.
Even wounded, Darthoridan moved quickly. In moments he’d reached his target. Hooking his feet around one bony ridge, he lowered himself and his harpoon into the water. The Sea elf’s keen ears caught the sharp click of the harpoon’s release, carried to her by the water.
A terrible roar split the night. The dragon turtle reared like an angry stallion and then wheeled about, swinging its massive head this way and that as it searched for the source of the attack. Its yellow eyes fell upon the elf clinging to the edge of its shell. The reptilian orbs narrowed with malevolence, and the turtle’s head craned back, jaws snapping. But Darthoridan had rolled back onto the shell, and was scrambling to the center where he was well out of reach.
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