Paul Thompson - Dargonesti

“He was a fine dwarf,” said Garnath mournfully.

“And a good forgemaster,” put in a voice from inside the flour barrel.

“Salt of the earth,” Garnath added.

“You can come out now,” Harmanutis told the flour barrel.

Gundabyr worked his head and shoulders out of the barrel. Garnath sat up, and the dwarf twins shook hands.

“Your turn tomorrow, Brother,” Garnath said with an exhausted sigh.

“Yup.” Gundabyr brought out more strips of dried cod for his brother, and the two dwarves sat side by side, chewing noisily. Harmanutis asked again about the chilkit.

“Don’t expect help from them,” Garnath said, echoing his brother’s earlier advice. “They have some intelligence, but not even the blueskins can talk to them. They come down the valley now and then and attack anything in their path. They’re bigger than Quoowahb are, and pretty damn tough.”

Next Harmanutis asked about the airshells.

“Nope, can’t use them,” Gundabyr stated, dashing yet another hope.

“Why not?” Vanthanoris demanded.

“The Quoowahb count every one they bring in and every one they take out. And even if you could get your hands on one, there’s no knowing how much air’s in it.”

“And the sea brothers would get you anyway,” put in Garnath.

Vanthanoris dropped his head into his hands, his brain reeling with all this unhappy news. “And who are the sea brothers?” he asked despondently.

“Shapeshifters. You must’ve seen them-the dolphins who rescued you.”

Harmanutis remembered them well. “Can all the Quoowahb become dolphins?”

“Nope, just the sea brothers. They live outside the city. A fella called Naxos is their chief, but he takes his orders from Coryphene,” Garnath explained.

“So Coryphene is Speaker of these elves?”

“Him?” Gundabyr spat. “He’s a veritable butcher, but he’s not the leader.”

Vanthanoris swore, which caused the dwarves to smile. Harmanutis motioned for him to be still and asked, “Then who does rule in Urione?”

“Her Divine Majesty, Queen Uriona,” said the dwarf twins in unison. Gundabyr added wryly, “Uriona the Mad, that is. They say she’s been touched by the gods. ‘Touched’ is right.”

A distinct clack-clack rang down the tunnel. Gundabyr vanished into the barrel again. Garnath jumped to his feet, crying, “The blueskins are coming back! Whatever the reason, it can’t be good!”

The clacking noise had been made by one of the other dwarves. He’d seen a disturbance in the water and had signaled his fellow slaves by beating the floor with a rock. Seconds after his alarm sounded, a troop of Dargonesti warriors burst out of the pool, weapons in hand. One, with a golden sand dollar on the front of his helmet, boomed out, “All prisoners line up! Take a shell and proceed outside!”

Slowly the tired slaves rose. When they didn’t move fast enough to suit their captors, a squad of sea elves came down the aisle, prodding the laggards with spear points. Harmanutis and Vanthanoris glared at the seven-foot-tall Dargonesti. Garnath straightened his soggy shirt and muttered, “Twice in one day! You owe me, Brother!” A muffled grunt from the barrel was the only reply.

The Qualinesti stood shoulder to shoulder, their proud bearing in marked contrast to the ragtag look of the rest of the slaves. When he reached the water’s edge, Harmanutis addressed the Dargonesti who wore the decorated helmet, who he assumed was an officer.

“What’s happening?” he asked. “Where are we going?”

“No talking!” snapped the Dargonesti.

With no other option, the two Qualinesti fit their airshell mouthpieces into place. They were still wearing their weighted belts as they walked down the steps and into the cold water. As soon as their ears were submerged, they heard a riot of strange noises. It almost sounded like … a battle?

The Dargonesti soldiers drove the mass of prisoners forward. They quickly left the road to the city and turned toward the great mountain. Dark gray shapes hurtled overhead. The chorus of clicks and bubbling beeps revealed that these were dolphins, all heading in the same direction.

Suddenly, the Qualinesti saw a wall looming over them. Made of great blocks of stone, the wall rose sixty feet from the seafloor. There was a gate in the center, and four unfinished stumps of towers at the top. Unused blocks of stone were piled here and there. Crowded among the waiting blocks were hundreds of armed sea elves, facing the wall.

Floating aimlessly in the water above the Dargonesti were the injured and the dead. Some were missing arms or legs. Some were missing heads. Dolphins circled around, tugging Dargonesti wounded away from the battle and fending off prowling sharks. Blood drifted like smoke, coloring the water ahead.

Atop the wall, between the centermost towers, Dargonesti were fighting. The inside gate on the wall was open, and the Quoowahb were herding the slave workers into the breach.

As the Qualinesti, who were at the rear of the line of prisoners, reached the blocks lying on the seafloor at the base of the wall, something dropped among them from above. The prisoners scattered. Mud swirled around the Qualinesti warriors, and Harmanutis was knocked backward and trampled on. Once he got clear of the stampede, he saw what had caused even the sea elves to flee so frantically.

A chilkit had landed in their midst.

The creature reared eight feet tall, fiery red armor on top of pale gray flesh. Four jointed legs stood out from its thick, barrel-shaped body. A torso encased in a crimson carapace was attached forward of the legs, and the torso had two pairs of arms. The lower pair ended in articulated fingers sporting sharp talons. The upper pair was even more fearsome. A massive set of scissorlike claws tipped each of these arms. The chilkit’s head was hard to discern-its torso simply came to a blunt point. Whip antennae sprouted from this point, and four wide-set black eyes protruded on flexible stalks below the antennae. Lastly, a vertical mouth, surrounded by horny palps, opened and shut as the chilkit forced seawater through its gills.

Harmanutis backed away. He feared no normal enemy, but this was a monster indeed, and he had no weapon. The chilkit scuttled forward, attacking the nearest man. The human scrambled madly, grasping the sandy bottom with both hands. The monster strode over him, its hideous claws upraised. Harmanutis watched in horror as the chilkit seized the man in both claws. The terrible pincers closed, cutting the slave in half.

Vanthanoris, also scrambling away, found himself atop a massive block of cut stone. Other prisoners followed, until they were spilling off the sides. The chilkit advanced toward the block and swept a dozen slaves from the side with a backward swipe of its claw.

Vanthanoris heard the staccato call of the dolphins, and a school thirty strong rushed in. Like a fleet of battering rams, the dolphins bore into the chilkit. Van lifted his head in time to see that the animals were wearing special helmets studded with shards of rock crystal. The chilkit backed away, slashing and grasping at the dolphins. The racing creatures eluded it and drove their spiked helmets into the monster’s armored hide. Now it was chilkit blood that darkened the water.

From behind, Harmanutis heard an especially loud, trilling whistle. He saw a powerful dolphin ram full-tilt into the chilkit’s chest. Armored claws closed around the muscular gray flanks; then all was lost in a welter of churning sand and blood.

Something nudged Harmanutis. He turned and saw a dolphin hovering behind him. Why did they always look like they were smiling? It nudged him again with its snout, then sank to the sand by his feet. The Qualinesti warrior got the message. He widened his stance, and the dolphin glided between his knees. The animal gave a warning shake, so Harmanutis held on to its dorsal fin. The sleek creature shot away with a few strokes of its powerful flukes.