The Dragon Isles

Chapter Twenty-Four

The water was chillier than Trip had expected, and he almost gasped out his air as he sank under the dark brine. In a moment, though, he regained his composure. Just before he was about to take a breath he remembered-and he was proud of this considering the fix he was in-that he didn’t have any magical seaweed.

Green and indigo shadows surrounded the kender. He reached out with his hand to make sure they were as insubstantial as they seemed, and felt slightly disappointed when they were. Then he remembered the real threat-the men who were coming to catch him.

He gazed up at the surface, but saw only a vague, gray oval. No searchers yet-but he knew they couldn’t be far behind. Turning, he dived down deeper. The strange green luminescence didn’t make it much easier to see, and the kender had to grope his way through the semi-darkness.

The hole wasn’t as deep as he’d thought. He found the rocky bottom only three fathoms down. For a moment, he feared he was trapped. Then he noticed that the passage split in three directions. Neither the green light nor the current gave any indication which would be the best way to go.

For a moment, he thought about turning back. But a quick glance upward showed that his pursuers had found his escape hole. Trip couldn’t be sure if they saw him in the gloom, but he didn’t intend to make things any easier for them.

Though he was an expert diver (part of his swimming talent), he doubted that he could hold his breath longer than they’d care to hang around the hole. He could think of only one thing to do.

Trip pulled the thong of his lucky treasure finder from around his neck. He knew it was a long chance, but the amulet had worked for him in the past He held the rock out before him in the dim light, and moved it around in front of the three diverging tunnels.

Astoundingly, the small pointed rock began to spin in front of the right hand passage. He took a moment-but only a moment as he was fast running out of air-to check his findings. Then he kicked hard into the right hand tunnel.

He swam holding the treasure finder in front of him. The gloom seemed to go on forever as Trip swam. He was already tired from being chased to the caves. Soon his lungs burned and once more spots danced before his eyes.

Just as he feared he’d drown in the darkness, the green light grew stronger. The passage opened up before him and the ceiling fell away. Dizzy, the kender groped his way to the surface. He thrust his head out of the water and gasped for air.

He leaned against the lip of the opening for a few moments, panting to catch his breath. Then a vague rattling sound caught his ear. Trip looked up and nearly fell back into the water.

The green light suffusing the cave came from glowing lichens on the wet rock walls. A hissing breeze blew from some unseen source, making a sound like a snake ready to strike. The room was filled with human bones. Some lay scattered across the floor. Others dangled-like hideous marionettes-in mildewed netting. The breeze tugged on the bones, making the eerie rattling that Trip had first heard. The gruesome sight, though, wasn’t what nearly caused the kender to lose his grip.

Trip broke into a huge grin. A vast store of pirate loot lined the tiny cavern: rusting weapons, tattered clothing, rotting draperies, some furniture, and several upturned chests of coins. The chests’ contents lay spilled across the cave’s stone floor.

“No wonder the treasure finder spotted this place,” Trip said, his small voice filled with awe.

He pulled himself up out of the hole and took a good look around. While, to a kender, the cave seemed a veritable archive of interesting things, Trip’s long years as a treasure diver made him realize that few of the items held any real value.

The steel coins-which must have formed the majority of treasure in the chests-were now little more than piles of rust. Some gold and silver pieces lay scattered among the detritus, though. Trip scooped up a few scant handfuls of these and stuffed them into the pockets of his lizard skin vest.

The bones, he assumed, came from pirates or their victims. All seemed to have met grisly ends; some still had rusting weapons protruding from their skulls and ribcages. Trip figured that everyone who knew about this place must have died in the massacre, or surely someone would have come for the treasure long ago-rather than leaving it here to rot.

The furniture and clothing had fared little better than the steel pieces. It saddened Trip’s heart to see what must have once been wonderful things treated so badly. “Sea worms would have been kinder,” he muttered.

He turned up a few small pearls amid the rubbish, but only costume gems and jewelry. A nice piece of gold embellished with cut rhinestones he stuck in a pocket. “For Ula,” he told himself.

Then something in the corner of the room gave him a start. At first, he thought it was a person. Then he realized that it was actually an old, hooded cloak, propped on top of a chest and leaning against the cavern wall. The cloak looked bulky and solid-like a tarpaulin-and it shimmered in the dim light.

Moving closer, Trip saw that it was covered with tiny greenish scales. The cloak’s surface rustled in the faint breeze, and the scales glistened.

Trip’s mouth dropped open in appreciation and awe. “I wonder what kind of lizard it came from?” he asked himself. His face brightened as he gazed at the seaweed-like fringe around the cloak’s edges. “Maybe it’s from a sea serpent!” It didn’t resemble the skin of the monster that had attacked him a few days ago, but it did remind him of a sea serpent he’d seen once on a previous voyage with Mik. His heart beat faster at the prospect.

Throwing caution to the wind, the kender skipped forward and grabbed the cloak by the hem. As he did, a creaking sound came from within the fabric. The kender looked up, and saw a skeletal face bearing down on him as the cloak lumbered forward.

Trip yelped and drew the daggers from his boots. He slashed with the small blades as the thing in the cloak lurched toward him. He stepped back, swinging again and again, trying to remember how far it was to the passage opening, hoping he could make it that far.

Then it fell on him. The kender went down, his legs and arms flailing. He felt his knives cut into something hard. Cold fingernails slashed his face. The cloak’s darkness enveloped him. The thing’s smothering presence bore him to the ground. Its foul odor clogged his nostrils.

He stabbed at it, again and again and again as its dead weight pressed down on him. Something clattered and the kender felt teeth scrape against his cheek. He tried to roll away, but the cloak wouldn’t let him out. He was trapped-pinned in a heavy, dank robe of darkness, trapped with an undead creature that wanted his life.

Unable to think of anything else to do, he kicked hard, aiming at the creature’s groin. His soft boot met only the yielding serpent cloak. The cloak flapped up in the back and the sickly green light of the cave beamed in.

Trip found himself staring eye to eye with a skeletal face. He smashed his forehead against the bridge of the things nose, then reeled back as sparks flew inside his head. “By all the gods, let go of me!” he shouted.

He tried to roll to the other side, away from the undead face. This time, the cloak gave way and he tumbled out into the light of the pirates’ lair. He scrambled to his feet and backed against the wall, holding his pearl-handled daggers before him.

The cloaked thing lay between Trip and the underwater passage-his only means of escape. It crouched in a heap on the damp cavern floor, waiting for him to try and pass. Panting, Trip held his ground.

The thing didn’t move.

Trip held his breath. The thing still didn’t move. A small breeze wafted through the cave, and the scales of the serpent-skin cloak glistened in the wan light.

“Well? Come on!” Trip called to the undead creature.

Still the thing in the cloak did not move.

Slowly, a realization came to the kender. Mustering his curiosity, he strode over to the cloak and gave it a hard kick.

“Maybe your family should have called you ‘Timberhead’ rather than Shellcracker,” Trip said to himself. “Because sometimes you’re as dense as a pylon.”

He grabbed one edge of the serpent-skin cloak and gave it a good yank, like the kender magician he’d once seen pull a tablecloth out from under a dinner service. The cloak flew into his hands while the thing inside it clattered to the floor-which, come to think of it, was pretty much the same result the magician had obtained.

Bones. Nothing but old bones with a curved knife sticking out of the ribs. The man must have died sitting in the comer of the cave with his cloak on. He’d been moldering there quietly until Trip yanked on the cloak-at which point the corpse tumbled on top of the startled kender.

“Timberhead,” Trip said to himself. “Fighting a pile of old bones.” He laughed, but the laughter echoed eerily in the small cave, so he stopped.

He held up the cloak and gave it a good looking over. “You’re lucky you didn’t cut it to ribbons, fighting imaginary spooks,” he said aloud. Then he smiled.

The sea serpent cloak was quite beautiful, in a shabby sort of way-and in amazingly good condition for something that had been sitting in a dank cave for who-knew-how-long.

Trip threw it around his shoulders and immediately felt both warmer and not so wet. “You must be sea serpent skin,” he said, “because regular lizard isn’t so warm.” Pleased with his find, he returned to poking around the pirates’ lair.

Sadly, Trip had turned up all there was to see before his desperate fight with the dead pirate. After topping off a few pockets with the remaining coins, he looked for another way out. “They can’t have brought all this loot through the hole in the floor,” he reasoned.

He found a passageway hidden behind a rotting tapestry and decided to give it a go. The tunnel wound steadily upward, and Trip soon smelled the fresh scent of sea air once more. The glowing lichens quickly died away, but light from the outside leaked down the passage, enabling him to see.

He soon came to a cleverly concealed opening in the cliff face, about forty feet above the surging tide. The entryway was cut into the rock such that, from either direction, it appeared to be only a small crack in the surrounding stone. While enough to fool a human’s-or perhaps even a dragon’s-eye, the trick clearly had little effect on the bats whose droppings littered the cave entrance.

Trip crinkled up his nose and tried not to get his boots too messy as he peered out into the daylight beyond. Even with the cloak’s hood pulled down nearly over his eyes, the light seemed unbearably bright.

“If you wait until nightfall,” he thought, “you may have an easier time avoiding Kell and his men. On the other hand, if you do that, you’ll have no idea of where you’re going. Best to climb down now, have a look around, and then try to catch a boat to Darthalla.”

He pulled the cloak’s hood back from his head to have a better look at the cliff face; the light immediately seemed less blinding and the air felt less oppressive.

Being extra cautious, Trip slowly climbed down the cliff face to the waterline. By the time he got there, the tide had receded somewhat, leaving a thin, rocky beach along the bottom of the bluff. Taking his bearings from the afternoon sun, he quickly figured out in which direction the town lay.

He felt concerned about running into Kell again, but as the cliffs only grew steeper to the west, he had little choice. “It’s either back to town or twice the climb you just made,” he though.

His mind made up, he hiked down the rocky shore back the way he’d originally come. He hadn’t gone far, though, when the sound of voices drifted to his ears.

“Must be around here somewhere,” said a man.

“Check up the shore again,” said a voice Trip recognized as belonging to Lord Kell.

“A lot of work for one kender,” said the first voice.

“I’m inclined to agree, milord,” said a voice belonging to Karista Meinor. “Why chase the kender when your sister is ailing?”

“Aye,” Kell replied. “I did vow to take him to Alarl, though.”

Trip smiled. They hadn’t realized that he’d reclaimed the black diamond artifact yet. Good! If they left, it would be easier for him to get off Jaentarth.

Just as he decided to slink away and hide somewhere until they’d gone, though, the first voice shouted, “There he is!”

Trip cursed himself. He’d been so lost in thought-a very un-kender thing to do-that his enemies had sneaked up on him. He turned, but saw no easy escape down the western beach.

Kell and the others ran toward him, brandishing weapons. Trip’s only alternative was a rocky, fingerlike quay stretching out into the ocean. He dashed down the quay with no clear plan in his mind. Kell and the others ran close behind.

“Perhaps I can find another underwater cave,” Trip hoped. “Maybe one of those passageways I didn’t take leads out here.” Glancing back the way he’d come, it seemed a reasonable prospect.

An arrow whizzed by his head and shattered on the rocks in front of him. Another arrow clattered nearby. That made up his mind.

Not waiting to reach the end of the quay, he dived into the crashing waves.

Lord Kell and Lady Meinor watched in frustration as the kender disappeared beneath the pounding surf. They raced to where they’d last seen Trip, and stood there watching for long minutes.

“How long can he stay under?” Kell asked.

Karista shrugged. “They said he’s a practiced diver. I wouldn’t rule out five minutes or more.”

“We’ll wait,” Kell said, and turning to his men added, “Keep watch up and down the beach. I don’t know how he eluded us last time, but we don’t want him slipping ashore unnoticed.”

They waited. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

“Could he have drowned?” Kell finally asked when they’d seen no sign of Trip for a half hour.

“I don’t know,” Karista said with a shrug. “Probably he didn’t intend to drown himself, but got caught in some undertow.”

Kell nodded. “Aye, perhaps. We’ve wasted enough time, in any case. Our healer must have what my sister requires by now. We sail for Berann.”

“And then the treasure?” Karista asked hopefully.

“If it exists, we’ll find it,” Kell replied, “… For the glory of the Order. Then you’ll have your trade concession.”

Karista Meinor smiled and her steel-blue eyes flashed at him. “Aye, milord.”

Trip had spent many years diving, and once he had even beaten a pearl diver to the bottom of a six fathom bay.

Never before had he dived as he did when he leaped off the quay. The water surged around him; rocks, reefs, and seaweed flew past as though they had been shot out of a catapult. The water changed from clear, to hazy blue, to indigo in what seemed an instant.

Disoriented and nearly out of breath, he shot back up to the surface. He breached like a dolphin, shooting high into the afternoon air before crashing back down into the waves.

He sputtered and flailed for a moment before coming to rest, gently bobbing on the surface. Looking behind him, Trip saw Jaentarth and Lord Kell’s ship-nearly a half league away.

Trip laughed and shook his fist in their direction, knowing they couldn’t see him, but half-wishing they could.

Gazing at the distant island, he realized that this really was a sea serpent skin cloak-a magical one at that. That explained why the sunlight seemed so bright and the air oppressive when he had the hood on; the cloak was accustomed to the darkness of the deep sea.

That thought triggered another one. He pulled the cloak’s hood up over his head once more and-carefully-dived under water. As he did, he felt a familiar tingling in his mouth, nose, and chest.

Cautiously, he took a breath.

Trip found himself greatly relieved not to be drowning. He breathed the water as naturally as if he had been born to it.

“Sleek!” he said aloud-and was happy to hear the words come out clear and undistorted.

Being careful not to go deep enough to lose his way, Trip swam underwater away from the island. To his delight, he found himself whizzing through the brine at speeds that would have made a razorfish envious.

He crashed out of the water and soared high into the air like a leaping manta ray. He cavorted with dolphins and porpoises, ran circles around sea turtles, and played “tag the fin” against a school of redtip sharks; fortunately, none of the sharks tagged him back.

As the sun touched the thunderheads clogging the western horizon, more practical matters seeped into Trip’s mind-such as how he could find his friends.

Swimming to Darthalla seemed out of the question; he didn’t know the way. Asking directions would be difficult, as there wasn’t anyone around to ask, and he didn’t know whom to trust, either.

He finally decided that his best course was to follow a ship into port and, once there, ask for directions. With the coins he’d found, perhaps he could even hire a ship to take him to Darthalla.

Being hungry, the kender grabbed some raw fish for dinner-a snap using the cloak-and thought the plan over while he ate.

No better ideas came to him, so he set out to find a likely boat to hitch up with. Spotting a white sail on the horizon, he dived under the surface once more. Trip reached the white-sailed galleon well before dark and-unknown to the captain or crew-hitched a ride.