Deep Trouble
The faery with the scarred wing dances with Shaeonyn on the stage, both of them eclipsing the light and casting me in shadow. They both are laughing at my feeble and fumbling steps on the stage. Tears fall from my eyes, pooling on the stage around me, but I dance on. I am shrinking, growing smaller and smaller on the stage as my own tears grow into an ocean around me. I now see my companions—Obadon, Valthesh, and Gosrivar—all lying exhausted on the white sands of a tiny island. I stand trapped among them, for far off I see the Wingless Isles, where a light flashes on the shore, a guiding beacon that calls us to that lush island with the promise of shelter, water, and food. I know that we shall die if we stay here—and that we shall die if we leave, for I cannot bear to leave Gosrivar and he cannot hope to fly such a distance once more. I see bones at my feet—our bones perhaps or the bones of a thousand others who have died on this minuscule shore—bleached and adding their brightness to the sands.
The white building is here, too. As I look more closely, it, too, is made of bones and skulls, all chattering at me strangely and in voices that are confusing. Then the pillars of the building rise up out of the sands, moving as though they were legs. The building walks across the sands and into the ocean, chattering brightly all the while. I call to it to come back, but it does not heed me and disappears beneath the waves.
The sun is suddenly blocked behind me and I turn but am astonished to see an enormous cloud in the shape of a wingless man. I have seen him before in my dream, though he has come to me in many guises—sometimes smoke and sometimes fire. Now I see him as a creature of cloud. His voice is like thunder, his laughter rolling across the waves monstrously loud. I shrink from his approach but there is no longer anyplace on the atoll where I might hide.
The cloud-man stops above me, his enormous size covering nearly half the sky. He seems to be waiting for something from me. I know better than to speak to him, for my voice has always shattered his image in the past. So I turn and point to the Wingless Isles. Can he bear us there?
His great hand reaches down, its brightness above becoming dark and laced with lightning. I expect it to reach for me, but it passes over my head and reaches down into the water at the shore. It pulls a gargantuan handful of water out of the ocean, but, to my astonishment, the sea does not rush to replace it; instead, it leaves a great hollowed void in its place where the seabed is suddenly dry.
I look back up at the cloud-giant, who smiles back at me. Hesitantly, I turn to the hollowed patch of sea and step into it. As I walk farther on, the enormous hand moves with my every step, the hollow of the ocean moving with me in any direction I step.
I smile. Gosrivar will not have to fly the distance after all! I gaze up in thanks to the vast man of cloud, my hands clapping together in appreciation. All around our little island, the bones of the dead rise up out of the sands as well, chattering and applauding with the clattering bones of their hands.
The cloud-giant looks at me with confusion, his hands open. He looks from side to side, uncertain as to the direction he should take next.
I realize in that moment that I am, indeed, Sharajin—a Seeker of the Dead. I whisper to the bones around me. They explode into dust, rising up into the air, and are carried over the water on a gust of wind. Their dust forms into the shape of dancing figures leading the cloud-giant southward.
FAERY TALES BRONZE CANTICLES, TOME VIII, FOLIO 3, LEAVES 24-25
Aislynn shook herself awake. The sun was already lowering toward the western horizon. Her muscles ached terribly and it was all she could do to push herself up from the sands under the shade of a pavilion.
She stood uncertainly, examining the structure. The eight pillars supporting its roof appeared to be fashioned out of some type of bright coral that had been shaped into spiraling columns. There were deep markings in it with numerous depictions of fish and what looked to Aislynn like other sea creatures as well. All eight columns rose up in long curves to join at a single peak. The roof itself was a latticework that would provide shade but not shelter from a storm. Through the coral web ceiling, Aislynn could see thin, curved vanes arranged around a central spindle that turned in the breeze at the peak of the roof. The top of the spindle rotated an oval piece of flat mirrored glass that flashed periodically the rays of the setting sun across the sea.
“An ingenious contraption,” Obadon said as he walked toward the princess.
“Yes,” Aislynn agreed. “The Kyree can be clever when it suits their purposes.”
Obadon looked around at the tiny, barren spit of land on which they stood. “We, apparently, do not suit their purposes.”
“And with us,” Aislynn returned, “they have not been clever.” She turned to face the green island to the north, still temptingly large on the horizon and still seemingly just as far away. A flash of light caught her eye. “Do you see it?”
“Yes,” Obadon replied, following her gaze across the water. “It is another beacon. I believe we are standing on what the lieutenant Kyree called Merlock Atoll. That beacon must be meant to lead us to Chytree Island. No doubt it was meant to aid those who were marooned here as we have been—though it will do us no good as a group.”
Aislynn folded her arms, considering. “I believe there may be more truth to be had yet in this matter.”
Obadon shook his head. “No, Princess . . .”
“Aislynn—you must call me Aislynn. I believe that out here—in such circumstances—we are of our own caste.”
“A caste of outcasts?” chuckled a quiet voice nearby.
“Valthesh, you are one Sharajin to be respected,” Aislynn said. “How are you feeling?”
“If this ache between my wings is the price for such respect,” Valthesh groaned, “I believe I could do without it.” She pulled herself up slowly to sit with her back against one of the pavilion’s pillars. Her wings were still quivering slightly from the exertion.
“We will need to rest here for a day—perhaps two, but no more.” Obadon sighed. “Even I could not possibly fly the distance before then but we dare wait no longer; there is no water to drink here.”
“Actually,” Aislynn said casually, “I was thinking we might leave as soon as Gosrivar gets up from his nap.”
The two other faeries stared back at her.
“Too much sun,” Obadon finally said.
“Or too little thought,” Valthesh added with skepticism. “Oraclyn, not even Obadon’s wings will bear him another ten miles tonight!”
“I agree,” Aislynn replied. “None of our wings will bear us anywhere tonight.”
“Well, then how . . .”
“How far do you think Gosrivar could walk?” Aislynn asked, turning once more to eye the distant beacon on the far shore and summon up a vision of the wingless man.
“This is most unnatural, Princess!” Gosrivar’s teeth were chattering so badly that it was difficult to understand him.
The shifting rays of sunlight filtered blue through the clear waters overhead. The gentle surface waves rolled thirty feet overhead, sparkling slightly under the bright sky of a lengthening day. Fish—singularly at first and progressively more in larger schools—drifted by, their cold eyes casting curious gazes at the four closely huddled faeries walking past them on the ocean floor.
“Is he that terrified or just cold?” Valthesh asked nervously.
“Both!” Gosrivar shot back, his voice a full octave higher than usual. “We shouldn’t be here!”
“None of us should be here,” Aislynn said quickly. “We should all be on a ship sailing toward some Kyree port city called Jugan Mee or Jugan Moi—or something like that. We should be on a ship with that traitorous Shaeonyn and her traitorous friend Djukan enjoying an evening meal with their traitorous Famadorian crew! But we’re not; we’re stuck out here on the ocean—”
“Under the ocean,” Obadon corrected nervously.
“Fine, under the ocean,” Aislynn continued testily, “and the only food and water available is this way. I honestly don’t know what you’re complaining about; there’s a nice breeze in here and we’re completely dry.”
“I was curious about that,” Obadon said. “Why is there a breeze under the water?”
“There isn’t,” Aislynn said. “I mean, well, there obviously is a breeze right here under the water, but that’s only because there’s a breeze where this water has been sent.”
“Huh?” Obadon shook his head.
“I mean,” Aislynn said, stepping carefully over a sharp rock protruding from the sandy seabed, “that the water that normally would be where we are is up above us, somewhere in the air—while the air that normally is where that water is—”
“Is down here?” Obadon completed, still unsure.
“Ah—an exchange.” Valthesh smiled. “The water up there switches places for the air down here. So long as there’s a breeze up there, we have fresh air here—at least as long as the magic holds out.”
“What?” Gosrivar squeaked.
The sandy ocean floor suddenly dropped off, descending gently into darker regions before them.
“Now what?” Valthesh asked.
Aislynn peered into the shadowy blue before them. “Well, it doesn’t look too much different from where we are now—just deeper. We still have the sun on our left and we should have only a few more miles to go before we climb onto the shores of Chytree Island. Let’s not stop when we’re so close.” She glanced at the old, quivering sage. “Somebody hang on to Gosrivar and let’s press on.”
“Wait,” Obadon said. “What happens if it starts raining where the water is now?”
“We get wet?” Aislynn asked in response.
They started down the slope. Within minutes the contour of the ocean floor changed. There were more large boulders for them to make their way around, slowing their progress. Their course was also more obscure, for the light had dimmed considerably, making it difficult to plan their path.
They had walked about an hour when Obadon suddenly froze, his voice a strained whisper. “Wait!”
They all stopped at once, their eyes straining to pierce the murky waters around them.
“What is it?” Aislynn asked.
“I thought—I’m sorry, I was sure I saw something out there,” Obadon said quietly.
“What did you think you saw?” Valthesh asked carefully.
“Nothing—I’m sure of it,” Obadon answered. “I think it’s just the quiet down here. Let’s keep moving; the sooner we get out of here—”
A long dark shape, nearly ten feet wide and longer than any of them could say, slid quickly past the faeries just beyond the extent of their vision.
“Oh, now I definitely saw that!” Valthesh said, her open hands rising in front of her.
“No! Wait!” Aislynn said. “Don’t! We don’t know what it will do to this bubble!”
The shape loomed out of the darkness once more, this time on the other side of them. Aislynn caught a glimpse of a long, snakelike body plated in huge scales.
“We’ve got to do something!”
“Gosrivar! We’re right here!” Valthesh snapped. “There’s no point in yelling!”
“There!” Aislynn pointed. “Into those rocks!”
They began to run, the bubble around them moving with them. The sand under their feet kicked up behind them as they neared the rock outcropping.
Suddenly, the hideous face of the creature emerged from the darkness, charging directly at them. It had the long snout and deep mouth of a reptile, its jaws lined with long, daggerlike teeth. Horns fully fifteen feet long swept back from its heavy brow, ridges that were set over dull, lifeless black eyes. The monster rushed toward them through the water, its mouth gaping open as it surged out of the darkness.
The snout slammed against the rigid bubble with such incredible force that it was dislodged from the seabed. The faeries were thrown with it, losing their footing from the sand with the upward rush of the bubble’s inner surface. They tumbled on top of each other within the tumbling bubble, rolling backward through the water until the bubble lost its momentum and drifted gently back to the seabed. The sands below them, by the quirky whim of the mystical forces Aislynn had called into existence, rose up once more through the bubble to support the dazed and shaken faeries.
“Name of our Fathers!” Obadon staggered to his feet, astonished. “The bubble held!”
Aislynn struggled to get back on her feet. “Come on!” she cried out. “We’ve got to get to shelter!”
“Where is it?” Obadon called excitedly.
Aislynn could see it now, silhouetted against the dim light from above. It was a colossal serpent but with fins on the forward part of its body like a fish and a long barb at its tail. It may have been hundreds of feet long; it was difficult for Aislynn to tell. The creature was writhing in the water, shaking its mammoth head back and forth in anger and confusion.
“Come on! This way!” She ran once more, her companions at her heels. They rushed breathlessly toward the outcropping. Aislynn stumbled over a rock obstructing her path, got her footing again, and continued.
“It’s coming back!” she heard Valthesh yell.
“Don’t stop!” Aislynn called back. She could see a path into the rocks ahead. She rushed forward between the pillars of stone.
Only to slide to a stop at the top of a precipice. The water below her fell away into blackness.
“Wait!” she cried out. “Stop!”
Too late. Obadon crashed into her, pushing her out over the edge of the sea cliff. Gosrivar and Valthesh hovered momentarily on the edge but the bubble followed Aislynn and pulled them over as well. The bubble, free again, fell gently down the sea wall, farther and farther into the darkness. Lying helpless against the lower wall of the sphere, Aislynn locked her eyes on Obadon’s as the darkness enveloped them.
Then there was a jarring impact from beneath. Aislynn felt pressure against her back as they seemed to rush upward, back toward the light. But quite suddenly she wished for the darkness to shield her eyes, for the long fangs of the serpent were locked around the bubble, occasionally clicking against its stubborn, impenetrable surface.
The serpent was plunging through the water with its prize clenched firmly in its jaws. The ocean floor was rushing past them at a tremendous pace, but then vanished altogether. One thing only penetrated Aislynn’s thoughts: the sunlight filtering down through the surface was behind them and to her right now.
The serpent was headed to the southeast, directly out to sea.