“Get me out of here!” He went down some more. “Don’t just stand there,
do
something!”
Stryke folded his arms. “I’m thinking about whether to let it get to your mouth. Might be the only thing to shut it.”
“Come on, Captain!” his sergeant pleaded. “It’s fucking
cold
in here!”
“All right, get him out.”
With some difficulty they hauled him clear. He came out cursing. His kit was filthy. Black tenacious ooze clung to him.
“Phew, I stink!” Haskeer complained, creasing his face.
“Don’t worry,” Jup said, “nobody’ll notice.”
“Thank the Square you didn’t fall in yourself, shortshanks! Two foot and it would have been over your head!”
Coilla lifted her hand to cover a grin.
“This time let’s stick together, shall we?” Stryke suggested.
They resumed the trek with Haskeer grumbling under his breath and his boots squelching.
After an hour of careful footwork they saw a line of irregularly shaped rocks dead ahead. Stryke ordered the band to spread out and watch their step.
On arriving they found the rocks towered over them. Several had cave mouths. In one or two cases, large round holes bored straight through the rocks and the ocean could be seen.
Coilla frowned. “If this is the beginning of the nyadd realm, shouldn’t there be guards?”
“You’d think so,” Stryke agreed. “Maybe they’re further on.”
“So where to?” Alfray said.
“Keppatawn said at least one of these entrances leads where we want to go. Pity he couldn’t remember which. Pick a cave.”
Alfray thought about it and pointed. “That one.”
They approached stealthily and went in. It was just a cave.
“Good thing you didn’t have a wager on that, Alfray,” Haskeer ribbed. “Now what, Stryke?”
“We keep picking them until we get in.”
They had three more tries and drew three more blanks.
“I’m getting sick of caves,” Haskeer told them. “I feel like a bat.”
Then Coilla chose one that turned out more promising. It went back a long way, and the light from its entrance was barely enough to guide them. But at its end there was a natural archway. They crept to it. The arch opened on to a sloping tunnel, like a slide. There was a green glow at the bottom.
Weapons drawn, they went down fast, ready for trouble.
Instead of waiting nyadds, they found themselves in a grotto. It was damp and echoing. The emerald illumination came from hundreds of pieces of coral-like material that seemed to be growing out of the walls and ceiling.
Alfray studied the slithers of radiant green. “I don’t know what this stuff is, but it’s damn useful,” he whispered.
“Right,” Haskeer said. He snapped off a chunk resembling a stalactite and handed it to him.
“Take some more,” Stryke ordered.
Several of the grunts set to dislodging pieces.
There was only one way to go—a narrow tunnel in the far wall. Unlike the grotto, it was unlit, so the makeshift torches came in handy. The band filed into it. Stryke leading.
It turned out to be quite short, and led into a round cave. This had high walls but its top was open to the air. Three more dark tunnels ran from it. Everywhere, water flowed freely, ankle deep.
“Time to play choose again,” Coilla said.
“Ssshh!”
Alfray had a finger to his lips.
The band froze. They heard a sloshing sound. Something was approaching along one of the tunnels. They couldn’t tell which.
Stryke ushered them back into the shaft they came out of. The glowing brands were concealed. As they watched, two nyadds came out of the centre tunnel. They moved in their race’s characteristic undulating fashion, impelled by immensely powerful lower muscles. These were creatures that may well have been more at home, and certainly more graceful, in water, but there was no doubt they had command of land too. On an evolutionary scale they were at equipoise, though whether they were heading for a future of exclusively air or of water dwelling was a moot point.
They were armed with their traditional jagged half-sword, half-spears, fashioned from hardened shale mined in the ocean’s depths. Coral daggers were strapped to their shiny carapaces.
Alfray whispered, “Just the two?”
“I think so. Try to keep one alive. Jup, make sure our rear’s guarded.”
At his signal, Alfray, Haskeer and Coilla rushed out with him to engage the nyadds. Three or four grunts backed them.
Taken by surprise, overwhelmed by numbers, the creatures had no realistic chance. Alfray and Haskeer hacked one of them about the head and neck until it fell. Stryke and Coilla took the other, and inflicted wounds that downed it but weren’t immediately fatal. It lay heaving like a crushed armoured slug, its blood mingling with the running water.
Stryke knelt. “The queen,” he demanded. “Which way to the palace?”
The nyadd took shuddering, rapid breaths and made no reply.
“Where’s the queen?” Stryke repeated, his tone more threatening. He used the tip of his sword to back his words.
With an effort, the nyadd lifted an arm and pointed a shaking webbed hand. It indicated the right-hand tunnel.
“The palace?” Stryke persisted. “That way?”
The nyadd managed to weakly nod its massive head. Then it slumped to a prone position.
“You better not be lying,” Haskeer warned.
“Save it,” Coilla said. “He’s dead.”
Jup and the rest of the band splashed out of their hiding place.
The bodies were left where they fell. Cautiously, the band entered the indicated tunnel, producing the sticks that glowed to light their way.
It proved a longer tunnel than the previous one. But eventually it took them to another area open to the sky. The difference this time was that they were on a ledge. Sweeping down before them was a series of uneven rocky tiers, like piled slabs, that led to a jumble of further passageways and tunnels.
Ahead, and looming high above, was a huge contorted confection of a structure. A bizarre fusion of nature and nyadd handiwork, it featured no straight line or untwisted tower. Rock and shell and ocean weeds combined to give the whole a wetly glistening organic aspect.
“Well, we’ve found it,” Stryke declared.
Jup tugged his sleeve and pointed downward. A dozen tiers below, and far to the left, a commotion was spilling into view. Two groups of nyadds were fighting each other. It was a vicious, no-holds-barred blood match, and even as the band watched several combatants went down.
“Keppatawn was right about there being trouble here,” Coilla said.
“If they’ve fallen into chaos it’s the perfect cover,” Jup added. “Seems we timed our visit well.”
“But if they’ve fallen into civil war,” Stryke reasoned, “maybe Adpar’s already dead.”
“If she governed wisely this shouldn’t be happening,” Coilla reckoned. “What kind of a ruler is it who’s selfish enough to let her realm die with her?”
“The usual kind, from what I’ve seen,” Jup told her. “And she’s Jennesta’s sister, remember. Maybe it runs in the family.”
Stryke indicated a wide carved passageway, directly ahead and below, that seemed to approach the palace. “Right, let’s go.”
Keeping low, lest they be seen by the fighting parties, the band quickly moved down the rocky tiers to the passage. They got to it, and into it, without incident. Once inside it was a different story.
About twenty paces in, the tunnel took a sharp turn. Before they reached it, five nyadds came around the corner. Four were armed, and they seemed to be escorting the fifth, who bore no weapons. But he didn’t look like a prisoner.
Mutual surprise was soon overcome. The nyadds levelled their weapons and moved in.
Coilla put one out of the picture instantly with a well-aimed knife lob. Conscious of the creatures’ tough shells, she aimed for the head. Her blade penetrated its eye.
The rest were tackled at close quarters, and again the orcs’ superiority of numbers swayed it.
Haskeer, hefting his sword two-handed, simply bludgeoned his hapless foe into oblivion. Alfray and Jup, working together, slashed at their opponent with determined efficiency. He went down with a multiplicity of wounds. Several grunts overwhelmed and killed the remaining warrior.
Coilla made sure she retrieved her knife. It was the best blade she’d ever owned.
That left just the unarmed nyadd. He cowered. “I’m an elder! Non-military! Spare me!
Spare me!
” he pleaded.
“Where’s Adpar?” Stryke demanded.
“What?”
“You want to live, take us to her.”
“I don’t —”
Haskeer put a blade to his throat.
“All right, all right,” the elder blurted. “I’ll take you.”
“No tricks,” Jup warned him.
He took them through a maze of stony, lichen-covered passages. As they had everywhere else they’d seen in the nyadds’ land, they waded through inches of water all the way.
At length they arrived at a broad corridor illuminated by slivers of the glowing rock. A pair of great doors stood at its end, guarded by two warriors. The band gave them little time to react, piling into them as a mob and cutting them to pieces. One ended the encounter with his head near completely severed.
Several grunts dragged the corpses out of sight. The terrified nyadd elder was brought forward.
“Is there anybody in there apart from her?” Stryke asked.
“I don’t know. A healer, perhaps. Our realm is in confusion. Rival factions are at each other’s throats. For all I know the queen may already be dead.”
“Damn!” Jup exclaimed.
The elder looked puzzled. “You mean that you’re not here to kill her?”
“What we’re here for is too complicated to explain,” Alfray told him. “But your queen still being alive is pretty important to it.”
Stryke nodded and with caution they tried the doors. They weren’t locked. Throwing them open, the band tumbled in.
There was no one in the private chamber except the queen herself, spread out on her bed of swaying green tendrils. Everybody splashed over to her.
“Gods,” Coilla murmured on seeing the queen’s face. “The resemblance to Jennesta’s uncanny.”
“Yes,” Alfray agreed. “A bit sobering, eh?”
“And they left her alone at the end,” Jup said.
“Says a lot about what they thought of her, doesn’t it?” Coilla replied.
“The point is, is she still alive?” Stryke wanted to know.
Alfray checked. “Just.”
The elder, forgotten, sneaked to the door. He got through it and sped along the corridor yelling,
“Guards! Guards!”
“Shit,” Stryke said.
“Leave it to me,” Coilla snapped.
She flew to the doorway, plucking a knife. Back went her arm. The missile struck the fleeing elder in the back of the neck. He twisted and fell, displacing gouts of water.
“Said they were good blades,” Coilla remarked.
Stryke assigned a couple of grunts to watch the door and they returned their attention to Adpar.
“We’ve been lucky so far,” he told them. “It won’t last. Do you reckon she can hear us, Alfray?”
“Difficult to say. She’s pretty far gone.”
Stryke leaned in to her. “Adpar.
Adpar!
Hear me. You are dying.”
Her head moved slightly on its emerald pillow.
“Hear me, Adpar. You are dying, and your sister Jennesta is responsible.”
The queen’s lips began to move. She grew more agitated, albeit weakly.
“Hear me, nyadd queen. Your own sister did this to you. Jennesta was the one.
Jennesta
.”
There was some fluttering of eyelids and quivering of lips. Her gills pulsated a little. Otherwise there was no reaction.
“It’s hopeless,” Coilla sighed.
Haskeer weighed in with, “Yeah, face it, Stryke, it ain’t going to work. There’s no use just standing here repeating ‘Jennesta, Jennesta, Jennesta.’ ”
Stryke was crestfallen. He began to turn away from the deathbed. “I just thought —”
“Wait!” Jup exclaimed. “Look!”
Adpar’s eyelids were flickering, blinking almost.
“It started when Haskeer repeated Jennesta’s name,” Jup reported.
As they watched, the lashes of Adpar’s eyes moistened. Then a single tear appeared and ran a little way down her cheek.
“Quickly!” Alfray urged. “The phial!”
Stryke got out the tiny container and tried laying it against Adpar’s flesh. His hands were clumsy.
“Here,” Coilla said, taking the phial. “This needs a female’s touch.”
Very carefully, she got the neck of the little bottle under the tear and gently compressed the cheek. The tear rolled and was caught. Coilla replaced the stopper and handed it to Stryke.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” she said. “I’ll bet she never shed a single tear in her whole life for the suffering she inflicted on others. It took self-pity to do it.”
Stryke studied the phial. “You know, I never thought we’d do this.”
“
Now
he tells us,” Haskeer grumbled.
“And the gods were with us,” Alfray announced, lowering Adpar’s wrist. “She’s dead.”
“Fitting that her last act should be the healing of one of her victims,” Stryke judged.
“All we have to do now is get out of here,” Jup said.
Jennesta was in the middle of a strategy meeting with Mersadion when it happened.
Reality reconfigured itself, became pliant. Changed. She had something like a vision, only it wasn’t precisely that. It was more an overwhelming impression of
knowing
, a certainty that an event of great importance had taken place. And parallel with the knowledge came another thing, a distinct and vivid message, for want of a better word, that she found equally exciting.
Jennesta had never before experienced anything like the sensation that possessed her. She supposed it resulted from the intimate telepathic link she involuntarily shared with her sibling.
Had
shared, she corrected herself. Adpar was dead. Jennesta knew that without a doubt. And it wasn’t all she now knew.
She hadn’t realised that her eyes were closed, nor that she had reached out for the back of a chair to steady herself. Her head began to clear. She straightened and took some deep breaths.