Роберт Асприн - Forever After

“But you were a stallion.” Domino felt herself blushing again. “I mean, I looked.”

Spite snorted. “You think you’re the only one who can cross-dress? The sea is, if nothing else, changeable. But you have more urgent concerns than what is — or is not — between my legs.”

“Right.” Domino hefted the scroll tube. “I need to return this to its grotto.”

The glass green eyes studied her. ‘The grotto is guarded, Domino.“

“Yes, I expect that it is. It was before.”

“You did not wonder at how swiftly the guardian fled from you last time?” Spite needled, twirling a white lock about a fingernail embossed with a tiny horseshoe charm.

“No.” Domino grimaced at the memory. “I plummeted into the depths and then kicked my way into the grotto bearing with me the enchanted trident forged for the purpose by the dwarves. Despite the enchantment that let me breathe underwater, my head was pounding and red sparks danced before my eyes. Yet, like a hero, I bore myself with courage and defeated the creature who had been set to guard the scroll of Gwykander.”

“You also,” Spite said, “had a cute little ass and a trim figure under your soaking clothes. Mama thought you were a real charmer and she’s gonna be real sour now that she’s aware that you made a fool of her.”

“I?” Domino floundered, “I didn’t try to…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Spite carped. “Last time, the Hydra fled after a few token snaps and you found a crystal-caparisoned steed waiting to bear you and your prize to the surface.”

“Crystal,” Domino muttered, “ice. It melted.”

‘Tell your boyfriend,“ Spite said. ”I’m just quoting the official epic. Last time things went comparatively easily for you. This time, you’re going to have a fight.“

“Great,” Domino said, fingering the scroll of Gwykander and considering just dropping it where she stood. “Look, Spite, are you still with me?”

The elf maiden spread her dainty hands. “But of course, Domino. If I wasn’t, you would have drowned long since.”

“Great.” Domino crossed her legs and drifted to sit on the sand. “Last time the layout was something like this.”

She picked up a razor-edged clamshell and began to sketch a diagram.

“The lake bottom sloped off here and narrowed to run into a channel. The grotto we want is off that channel and — of course — I expect the guardian to be there. Last time, I beat it off.”

“Yes, you charged in with your magical trident, it took a few snaps, and swam off. Right?”

‘The thing had seven heads,“ Domino protested, ”and they took more than a few snaps. One even tore my sleeve.“

“Forget it, General,” Spite retorted, “you won’t be dealing with a snap dragon this time. The Sea Hag is serious — you’ll have a real fire Hydra this time.”

“Fire?” Domino said doubtfully. “In the water? Don’t you know? Fire and water don’t mix.”

“I’ve also heard that the best way to fight fire is with fire,” Spite said, “and that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. All you get is more fire.”

“All right, I’ll concede that sometimes stupid things work. Even with your help I’m not certain that I’m up to a seven-headed, fire-breathing dragon.”

“Hydra,” Spite corrected. ‘They’re worse, since if you cut off one head a new one will grow unless the stump of the neck is cauterized. I don’t suppose you brought the trident with you, did you?“

“Well, sort of,” Domino said. “You see, I left it here last time. I had thrown it at the creature and so I was running out of air. All I could manage was to grab the scroll and swim.”

“Then it’s probably still there,” Spite said. “Mama’s a lousy housekeeper. Now, I have a plan.”

“Hey, Hydra!” Spite shouted into the inky channel mouth, “You’ve got halitosis times seven!”

Crouched to the right side of the opening, Domino groaned silent disapproval. Apparently, Spite wasn’t any more subtle as an elf. However, her ploy seemed to be working. Something even more solidly black than the lightless waters of the subterranean, subaquean channel was swimming forward. She could feel the warm currents that emanated from its vicinity and taste a sulphurous tang in the waters.

The Hydra burst from the channel, a stream of pearl-escent bubbles in its wake. Domino had a vague impression of dragonlike heads, finned necks, lots of malachite scales, and a filmy, fishy tail. Though something struck her as not quite right, she didn’t pause.

Diving into the newly vacated channel, she bounced between ceiling and floor. Head reeling from this unaccustomed form of locomotion, she nearly missed the grotto. Doubling back, she ducked into the coral-lined alcove. Tiny white tongues only an inch long curled out of the living wall to reach for her.

Claustrophobia came from nowhere, urging her to flee this cave within a cave before she was sealed in. She felt as if her breath were becoming thin and that water rather than air were swirling into her lungs, preparing to drown her. Shuddering, she shoved the scroll tube into a curving opening just large enough to conceal it.

Backing away, only stopped from running by the fear of what would most assuredly chase her, she stumbled against something that rolled beneath her boot. It looked rather like a broom handle encased in coral, but where her foot had struck it, some of the coral had broken and a pale red light leaked like blood into the water.

Despite panic she remembered and bent to pick up the magical trident from the grotto’s floor. Two or three sharp blows against the cave mouth freed it of its calcified cerements and with each one, more of the red light brightened her way and clarity swam back into her thoughts.

Something had tried to frighten her into fleeing and only to herself would she admit how close that it had come. Now she was in control again and in possession of a weapon made for this element. Baring her teeth grimly, she launched into the channel. As a brother in arms, she knew that she should hope that Spite had defeated the Hydra; as a warrior, she knew she was spoiling for a fight.

Once out in the glimmering blue waters, she saw an astonishing sight — Spite fleeing from the Hydra!

The pale green elf maiden was swimming as rapidly as she could, deftly twisting and dodging to avoid the multiple gouts of flame the Hydra spat after her. But even though Spite was a minnow for grace and celerity, she could not match the sheer strength of the pursuing monster which thrashed through the water with powerful strokes of its fishy tail.

Domino doubted that she could reach Spite in time. The elf maiden was slowing, clearly exhausted by the furious chase. The best the General could hope for was to avenge her steed.

Then intervention came, not divine or miraculous, but in the form of a large rock that plummeted down from the surface and neatly pinned the Hydra’s tail to the sandy bottom. Spite shot away in a burst of gleeful speed and before Domino’s wondering eyes began to shift shape again.

The human qualities vanished, completely to be replaced by the familiar sea-foam-and-green horse. Familiar from the shoulders up, that is, for from the torso down Spite now wore a fishtail, covered in glassy green scales the same shade as its mocking eyes and ending in a filmy white fin.

Shaking her head, Domino gritted her teeth and looked across what must have been the battlefield. The white sand, pale pink under the light of her trident, was strewn with boulders. Clearly the shot that had pinned the Hydra’s tail had been as much a matter of luck as of finding range. Once the monster won free, they could not hope for more help from above.

Although much of the Hydra’s attention was on Spite and more on freeing itself, it still had a spare head to note Domino’s approach. Breathing a burst of almost liquid fire at her, it craned several of its necks to prepare for her.