6

Apoletta.

After a long chase through the streets of a city whose crumbling beauty seemed a horror to Tanis, they entered one of the lovely palaces in the center. Running through a dead garden and into a hall, they rounded a corner and came to a halt. The red-robed man was nowhere to be seen.

‘Stairs!’ Riverwind said suddenly. His own eyes growing accustomed to the strange light, Tanis saw they were standing at the top of a flight of marble stairs that descended so steeply they had lost sight of their quarry. Hurrying to the landing, they could once more see the red robes fluttering down them.

‘Keep in the shadows near the wall,’ Riverwind cautioned, motioning them to the side of the stairway that was big enough for fifty men to walk down it abreast.

Faded and cracked murals on the walls were still so exquisite and life-like that Tanis had the fevered impression the people portrayed there were more alive than he was. Perhaps some of them had been standing in this very spot when the fiery mountain struck the Temple of the Kingpriest . . . Putting the thought out of his mind, Tanis kept going.

After running down about twenty steps, they came to a broad landing, decorated with life-size statues of silver and gold. From here, the stairs continued down, leading to another landing, leading to more steps, and so on until they were all exhausted and breathless. Still the red robes fluttered ahead of them.

Suddenly Tanis noticed a change in the air. It was becoming more humid, the smell of the sea was strong. Listening, he could hear the faint sounds of water lapping against stone. He felt Riverwind touch his arm, pulling him back into the shadows. They were near the bottom of the steps. The redrobed man was in front of them, standing at the very bottom, peering into a pool of dark water that stretched out before him into a vast, shadowy cavern.

The red-robed man knelt by the side of the water. And then Tanis was aware of another figure; this one in the water! He could see hair shining in the torchlight—it had a faint greenish cast. Two slender white arms rested on the stone steps, the rest of the figure was submerged. The figure’s head lay cradled on its arms, in a state of complete relaxation. The red-robed man reached out a hand and gently touched the figure in the water. The figure raised its head.

‘I have been waiting,’ a woman’s voice said, sounding reproachful.

Tanis gasped. The woman spoke elven! Now he could see her face, the large, luminous eyes, pointed ears, delicate features . . .

A sea elf!

Confused tales from his childhood came back to Tanis as he tried to follow the conversation of the red-robed man and the elven woman, who was smiling at him fondly.

‘I’m sorry, beloved,’ the red-robed man said soothingly, in elven, sitting down beside her. ‘I went to see how the young man you were concerned about was doing. He’ll be all right, now. It was a close one, though. You were correct. He was certainly intent on dying. Something about his brother—a magicuser—betraying him.’

‘Caramon!’ Tanis murmured. Riverwind looked at him questioningly. The Plainsman could not, of course, follow the elven conversation. Tanis shook his head, not wanting to miss what else was said.

‘QueaKI’ICHKeecx’ said the woman in scorn. Tanis was puzzled, that word was certainly not elven!

‘Yes!’ The man frowned. ‘After I made sure those two were safe, I went to see some of the others. One of them—a bearded fellow, a half-elf, leaped at me as if he would swallow me whole! The others we managed to save are doing well.’

‘We laid out the dead with ceremony,’ said the woman, and Tanis could hear the ages-old sorrow in her voice, the sorrow of the elves for the loss of life.

‘I would have liked to ask them what they were doing in the Blood Sea of Istar. I’ve never known a ship’s captain foolish enough to dare the maelstrom. The girl told me there’s war going on above. Maybe they had no choice.’

The elven woman playfully splashed water on the red-robed man. ‘There’s always war going on above! You are too curious, my beloved. Sometimes I think you might leave me and return to your world. Especially after you talk with these KreeaQUEKH.’

Tanis heard a note of true concern in the woman’s voice, though she was still playfully splashing the man.

The red-robed man leaned down and kissed her on the wet, greenish hair shining in the light of the sputtering torch on the wall above them. ‘No, Apoletta. Let them have their wars and their brothers who betray brothers. Let them have their impetuous half-elves and their foolish sea captains. As long as my magic serves me, I will live below the waves—’

‘Speaking of impetuous half-elves,’ Tanis interrupted in elven as he strode rapidly down the stairs. Riverwind, Goldmoon, and Berem followed, though they had no idea what was being said.

The man turned his head in alarm. The elven woman disappeared into the water so swiftly that Tanis wondered for a moment if he might have imagined her existence. Not a ripple on the dark surface betrayed where she had been. Reaching the bottom of the steps, Tanis caught hold of the magic-user’s hand just as he was about to follow the sea elf into the water.

‘Wait! I’m not going to swallow you!’ Tanis pleaded. ‘I’m sorry I acted the way I did back there. I know this looks bad, sneaking around after you like this. But we had no choice! I know I can’t stop you if you’re going to cast a spell or something. I know you could engulf me in flames or put me to sleep or wrap me in cobweb or a hundred other things. I’ve been around magic-users. But won’t you please listen to us? Please help us. I heard you talking about two of our friends—a big man and a pretty red-haired girl. You said the man nearly died— his brother betrayed him. We want to find them. Won’t you tell us where they are?’

The man hesitated.

Tanis went on hurriedly, losing coherence in his efforts to keep hold of this man who might be able to help them. ‘I saw the woman here with you. I heard her speak. I know who she is. A sea elf, isn’t she? You are right. I am half-elven. But I was raised among the elves, and I’ve heard their legends. I thought that’s all they were, legends. But then I thought dragons were legends, too. There is a war being fought in the world above. And you’re right. There always seems to be a war being fought somewhere. But this war won’t stay up above. If the Queen of Darkness conquers, you can be certain she’ll find out the sea elves are down here. I don’t know if there are dragons below the ocean, but’’

‘There are sea dragons, half-elf,’ said a voice, and the elven woman reappeared in the water once more. Moving with a flash of silver and green, she glided through the dark sea until she reached the stone steps. Then, resting her arms on them, she gazed up at him with brilliant green eyes. ‘And we have heard rumors of their return. We did not believe them, though. We did not know the dragons had awakened. Whose fault was that?’

‘Does it matter?’ asked Tanis wearily. ‘They have destroyed the ancient homeland. Silvanesti is a land of nightmares now. The Qualinesti were driven from their homes. The dragons are killing, burning. Nothing, no one is safe. The Dark Queen has one purpose—to gain dominance over every living being. Will you be safe? Even down here? For I presume we are below the sea?’

‘You are right, half-elf,’ said the red-robed man, sighing. ‘You are below the sea, in the ruins of the city of Istar. The sea elves saved you and brought you here, as they bring all those whose ships are wrecked. I know where your friends are and I can take you there. Beyond that, I don’t see what more I can do for you.’

‘Get us out of here,’ Riverwind said flatly, understanding the conversation for the first time. Zebulah had spoken in Common. ‘Who is this woman, Tanis? She looks elven.’

‘She is a sea elf. Her name is . . .’ Tanis stopped.

‘Apoletta,’ said the elven woman, smiling. ‘Forgive me for not extending a formal greeting, but we do not clothe our bodies as do you KreeaQUEKH. Even after all these years, I cannot persuade my husband to quit covering his body in those ridiculous robes when he goes onto the land. Modesty, he calls it. So I will not embarrass either you or him by getting out of the water to greet you as is proper.’

Flushing, Tanis translated the elven woman’s words to his friends. Goldmoon’s eyes widened. Berem did not seem to hear, he was lost in some sort of inner dream, only vaguely aware of what was happening around him. Riverwind’s expression did not change. Apparently nothing he heard about elves could surprise him anymore.

‘Anyway, the sea elves are the ones who rescued us,’ Tanis went on. ‘Like all elves, they consider life sacred and will help anyone lost at sea or drowning. This man, her husband—’

‘Zebulah,’ he said, extending his hand.

‘I am Tanis Half-Elven, Riverwind and Goldmoon of the Que-shu tribe, and Berem, uh—’ Tanis faltered and fell silent, not quite knowing where to go from here.

Apoletta smiled politely, but her smile quickly faded. ‘Zebulah,’ she said, ‘find the friends the half-elf speaks of and bring them back here.’

‘We should go with you,’ Tanis offered. ‘If you thought I was going to swallow you, there’s no telling what Caramon might do—’

‘No,’ said Apoletta, shaking her head. The water glistened on her hair and sparkled on her smooth green-tinged skin. ‘Send the barbarians, half-elf. You stay here. I would talk with you and learn more of this war you say could endanger us. It saddens me to hear the dragons have awakened. If that is true, I fear you might be right. Our world will no longer be safe.’

‘I will be back soon, beloved,’ Zebulah said.

Apoletta reached out her hand to her husband. Taking it, he raised it to his lips, kissing it gently. Then he left. Tanis quickly translated for Riverwind and Goldmoon, who readily agreed to go in search of Caramon and Tika.

As they followed Zebulah back through the eerie, broken streets, he told them tales of the fall of Istar, pointing out various landmarks as they went along.

‘You see—’ he explained, ‘when the gods hurled the fiery mountain onto Krynn, it struck Istar, forming a giant crater in the land. The seawater rushed in to fill up the void, creating what came to be known as the Blood Sea. Many of the buildings in Istar were destroyed, but some survived and, here and there, retained small pockets of air. The sea elves discovered that this was an excellent place to bring mariners they rescued from capsized ships— Most of them soon feel quite at home.’

The mage spoke with a hint of pride, which Goldmoon found amusing, though she kindly did not allow her amusement to show. It was the pride of ownership, as if the ruins belonged to Zebulah and he had arranged to display them for the public’s enjoyment.

‘But you are human. You are not a sea elf. How did you come to live here?’ Goldmoon asked.

The magic-user smiled, his eyes looking back across the years. ‘I was young and greedy,’ he said softly, ‘always in hopes of finding a quick way to make my fortune. My magic arts took me down into the depths of the ocean, searching for the lost wealth of Istar. I found riches all right, but not gold or silver.

‘One evening I saw Apoletta, swimming among the sea forests. I saw her before she saw me, before she could change her shape. I fell in love with her . . . and long I worked to make her mine. She could not live up above and, after I had existed so long in the peace and tranquil beauty down here, I knew I no longer had a life in the world above either. But I enjoy talking to your kind occasionally, so I wander among the ruins now and then, to see who the elves have brought in.’

Goldmoon looked around the ruins as Zebulah paused to catch his breath between stories. ‘Where is the fabled temple of the Kingpriest?’ she asked.

A shadow passed over the mage’s face. The look of pleasure he had worn was replaced by an expression of deep sorrow tinged with anger.

‘I’m sorry,’ Goldmoon said quickly. ‘I did not mean to cause you pain . . .’

‘No, it’s all right,’ Zebulah said with a brief, sad smile. ‘In fact, it is good for me to remember the darkness of that dreadful time. I tend to forget—in my daily ramblings here—that this used to be a city of laughing, crying, living, and breathing beings. Children played in these streets—they were playing that terrible evening when the gods cast the fiery mountain down.’

He was silent for a moment then, with a sigh, continued.

‘You ask where the temple stands. It stands no longer. In the place where the Kingpriest stood, shouting his arrogant demands to the gods, there is a dark pit. Although it is filled with sea water, nothing lives within it. None know its depth, for the sea elves will not venture near it. I have looked into its dark, still waters as long as I could bear the terror, and I do not believe there is an end to its darkness. It is as deep as the heart of evil itself.’

Zebulah stopped in one of the sea—dark streets and peered at Goldmoon intently. ‘The guilty were punished. But why the innocent? Why did they have to suffer? You wear the medallion of Mishakal the Healer. Do you understand? Did the goddess explain it to you?’

Goldmoon hesitated, startled by the question, searching within her soul for the answer. Riverwind stood beside her, stern and silent as always, his thoughts hidden.

‘Often I myself have questioned,’ Goldmoon faltered. Moving nearer Riverwind, she touched his arm with her hand as though to reassure herself he was near. ‘In a dream, once, I was punished for my questioning, for my lack of faith. Punished by losing the one I love.’ Riverwind put his strong arm around her and held her close. ‘But whenever I feel ashamed of my questioning, I am reminded that it was my questioning that led me to find the ancient gods.’

She was silent a moment. Riverwind stroked her silver-gold hair and she glanced up at him with a smile. ‘No,’ she said softly to Zebulah, ‘I do not have the answer to this great riddle. I still question. I still burn with anger when I see the innocent suffer and the guilty rewarded. But I know now that my anger can be as a forging fire. In its heat, the raw lump of iron that is my spirit is tempered and shaped to form the shining rod of steel that is my faith. That rod supports my weak flesh.’

Zebulah studied Goldmoon silently as she stood amid the ruins of Istar, her silver-golden hair shining like the sunlight that would never touch the crushed buildings. The classic beauty of her face was marked by the effects of the dark roads she had traveled. Far from marring that beauty, the lines of suffering and despair had refined it. There was wisdom in her eyes, enhanced now by the great joy that came from the knowledge of the new life she carried within her body.

The mage’s gaze went to the man who held the woman so tenderly. His face, too, bore the marks of the long, tortuous path he had walked. Although stern and stoic that face would always be, his deep love for this woman showed clearly in the man’s dark eyes and the gentleness of his touch.

Perhaps I have made a mistake staying beneath the waters so long, Zebulah thought, suddenly feeling very old and sad. Perhaps I could have helped, if I had stayed above and used my anger as these two used theirs—to help them find answers. Instead, I let my anger gnaw at my soul until it seemed easiest to hide it down here.

‘We should delay no longer,’ said Riverwind abruptly. ‘Caramon will soon get it into his head to come looking for us, if he has not already.’

‘Yes,’ said Zebulah, clearing his throat. ‘We should go, although I do not think the young man and woman will have left. He was very weak—’

‘Was he injured?’ Goldmoon asked in concern.

‘Not in body,’ Zebulah replied as they entered a tumbledown building on a crumbling side-street. ‘But he has been injured in his soul. I could see that even before the girl told me about his twin brother.’

A dark line appeared between Goldmoon’s finely drawn brows, her lips tightened.

‘Pardon me. Lady of the Plains,’ Zebulah said with a slight smile, ‘but I see that forging fire you spoke of blaze in your eyes.’

Goldmoon flushed. ‘I told you I was still weak. I should be able to accept Raistlin and what he did to his brother without questioning. I should have faith that it is all part of the greater good I cannot envision. But I’m afraid 1 can’t. All I can do is pray that the gods keep him out of my path.’

‘Not me,’ said Riverwind suddenly, his voice harsh. ‘Not me,’ he repeated grimly.

Caramon lay staring into the darkness. Tika, cradled in his arms, was fast asleep. He could feel her heart beating, he could hear her soft breathing. He started to run his hand through the tangle of red curls that lay upon his shoulder, but Tika stirred at his touch and he stopped, fearful of waking her. She should rest. The gods alone knew how long she had been awake, watching over him. She would never tell him, he knew that. When he had asked, she had only laughed and teased him about his snoring.

But there had been a tremor in her laughter, she had been unable to look into his eyes.

Caramon patted her shoulder reassuringly and she nestled close. He felt comforted as he realized she slept soundly, and then he sighed. Only a few weeks ago, he had vowed to Tika that he would never take her love unless he could commit himself to her body and soul. He could still hear his words, ‘My first commitment is to my brother. I am his strength.’

Now Raistlin was gone, he had found his own strength. As he had told Caramon, ‘I need you no longer.’

I should be glad, Caramon told himself, staring into the darkness. I love Tika and I have her love in return. And now we are free to express that love. I can make that commitment to her. She can come first in all my thoughts now. She is loving, giving. She deserves to be loved.

Raistlin never did. At least that’s what they all believe. How often have I heard Tanis ask Sturm when he thought I couldn’t hear why I put up with the sarcasm, the bitter recriminations, the imperious commands. I’ve seen them look at me with pity. I know they think I’m slow-thinking sometimes and I am— compared to Raistlin. I am the ox, lumbering along, bearing the burden without complaint. That’s what they think of me.

They don’t understand. They don’t need me. Even Tika doesn’t need me—not like Raist needed me. They never heard him wake screaming in the night when he was little. We were left alone so much, he and I. There was no one there in the darkness to hear him and comfort him but me. He could never remember those dreams, but they were awful. His thin body shook with fear. His eyes were wild with the sight of terrors only he could see. He clutched at me, sobbing. And I’d tell him stories or make funny shadow-pictures on the wall to drive away the horror.

‘Look, Raist,’ I’d say, ‘bunnies . . .’ and I’d hold up two fingers and wiggle them like a rabbit’s ears.

After awhile, he’d stop trembling. He wouldn’t smile or laugh. He never did either, much, even when he was little. But he would relax.

‘I must sleep. I am so tired,’ he’d whisper, holding my hand fast. ‘But you stay awake, Caramon. Guard my sleep. Keep them away. Don’t let them get me.’

‘I’ll stay awake. I won’t let anything hurt you, Raist!’ I’d promise.

Then he would smile—almost—and, exhausted, his eyes would close. I kept my promise. I would stay awake while he slept. And it was funny. Maybe I did keep them away, because as long as I was awake and watching, the nightmares never came to him.

Even when he was older, sometimes he’d still cry out in the night and reach out to me. And I’d be there. But what will he do now? What will he do without me when he’s alone, lost, and frightened in the darkness?

What will I do without him?

Caramon shut his eyes and, softly, fearful of waking Tika, he began to cry.