Serpent Mage (21 page)

Alake looked startled, at first, then she smiled. “Of course. You are testing me. I would give you the correct response, but not in front of the uninitiated.” She nodded at Grundle and Devon.

“Humpf!” grunted the dwarf, unimpressed. “This way to the pilot's house.” She began to climb the ladder leading to the topmost deck. Devon and Alake went up after her.

Haplo followed, said nothing more. He hadn't missed Alake's surprised expression. Apparently, human and elven magic worked in the sea. And, since something was guiding the boat, dragon magic worked in the seawater, as well. Seawater that had, so to speak, washed away Haplo's magic. Or had it? Maybe his debilitation had been caused by the passage through Death's Gate. Perhaps …

A tingling sensation on Haplo's skin interrupted his ruminations. It was slight, barely felt, as if silken threads of cobwebs were brushing across his flesh. He recognized it, wished he'd thought to wrap the blanket around him. A quick glance confirmed his fears. The sigla on his skin were beginning to glow, a sign of danger. The light was faint, faint as the runes themselves, but his magic was warning him as best it could in his weakened state.

The mensch pulled themselves up over the top, but aid not proceed farther. Devon's lips tightened. Grundle gave a sudden, loud, nervous “hem!” that made everyone jump. Alake began to whisper to herself, probably some sort of charm.

The tingling on Haplo's arms became almost maddening, like the tiny feet of myriad spiders crawling over him. His body was instinctively preparing itself to face danger. Adrenaline pumped, his mouth dried, his stomach muscles tightened. He tensed, searched every shadow, cursed the faint light of the sigla, cursed the fact that he was weak.

The dwarf lifted a quivering hand, pointed ahead, at a darkened doorway located at the end of the corridor.

“That's … the steerage.”

Fear flowed from out that doorway like a dark river, threatening to drown them in its suffocating tide. The mensch huddled together, staring with horrible fascination down the corridor. None of them had noticed his alteration yet.

Alake shivered. Grundle was panting like a dog. Devon leaned weakly against the bulkheads. It was obvious the mensch could not go on. Haplo wasn't certain he could.

Sweat trickled down his face. He was having difficulty breathing. And still no sign of anything! But he knew, now, where the danger was centered, and he was walking right toward it. He had never experienced fear like this, not in the darkest, most horrible cave in the Labyrinth. Every fiber of his being was urging him to run away as fast as he could. It took a concerted effort on his part to keep moving forward.

And, suddenly, he couldn't. He came to a halt, near the mensch. Grundle looked around at him. Her eyes widened, she let out a crowing gasp. Alake and Devon shuddered, turned to stare.

Haplo saw himself reflected in three pair of astounded, frightened eyes, saw his body glowing a faint, iridescent blue, saw his face strained and drawn, glistening with sweat.

“What's ahead of us?” he said, pointing. “What's beyond that door?” It took him three breaths to squeeze the words past the tightness in his chest.

“What's wrong with your skin?” Grundle cried shrilly. “You're lit up—”

“What's in there?” Haplo hissed through clenched teeth, glaring fiercely at the dwarf.

She gulped. “The … the pilot's house. You see?” she added, growing bolder. “I was right. Like walking into death.”

“Yeah, you were right.” Haplo took a step forward.

Alake clutched at him. “Wait! You can't go! Don't leave us!”

Haplo turned. “Wherever it is they're taking you—will it be any better?”

The three stared at him, silently begging him to say he'd been wrong, to tell them everything was going to be all right. But he couldn't. Truth, harsh and bitter, like a cold wind, blew out hope's faint, flickering light.

“Then we'll come with you,” said Devon, pale but resolute.

“No, you won't. You're going to stay right here, all three of you.”

Haplo looked down the corridor, glanced again at his arms. The sigla's glow was faint, the runes on his body barely visible. He cursed softly, beneath his breath. A child in the Labyrinth could defend itself better than he could, at this moment.

“Do any of you have a weapon? You, elf ? A sword, a knife?”

“N-no,” Devon stammered.

“We were told not to bring any weapons,” Alake whispered fearfully.

“I have an ax,” Grundle said, tone defiant. “A battle-ax.”

Alake stared at her, shocked.

“Bring it to me,” Haplo ordered, hoping it wasn't some puny toy.

The dwarf looked at him long and hard, then ran off. She returned, puffing, carrying what Haplo was relieved to see was a sturdy, well-made weapon.

“Grundle!” said Alake reprovingly. “You know what they told us!”

“As if I'd listen to a bunch of snakes!” Grundle scoffed.

“Will this do?”

She handed the ax to Haplo.

He grasped it, hefted it experimentally. Too bad he didn't have time to inscribe runes on it, enhance it with magical power. Too bad he didn't have the strength to do it, he reminded himself ruefully. Well, it was better than nothing.

Haplo started to creep forward. Hearing footsteps shuffling along behind him, he whirled around, glared at the mensch.

“You stay there! Understand?”

The three wavered, looked at each other, then at Haplo. Devon began to shake his head.

“Damn it!” Haplo swore. “What can three terrified kids do to help me? You'll only get in my way. Now keep back!”

They did as he told them, huddling against the walls, watching him with wide, frightened eyes. He had the feeling, though, that the minute he turned his back, they'd be creeping up behind.

“Let them take care of themselves,” he muttered.

Ax in hand, he started down the corridor.

The sigla on his skin itched and burned. Despair closed in on him, the despair of the Labyrinth. You slept out of exhaustion, never to find easeful rest. You woke every day to fear and pain and death.

And anger.

Haplo concentrated on the anger. Anger had kept the Patryns alive in the Labyrinth. Anger carried him forward. He would not rush meekly to his fate like the mensch. He would fight. He … Haplo reached the door that led into the steerage, the door that threatened—guaranteed—death. Pausing, he looked, listened. He saw nothing but deep, impenetrable darkness, heard nothing but the beating of his own heart, his own short and shallow breathing. His grip on the ax was so tight his hand ached. He drew a breath, bounded inside.

Darkness closed over him, fell down on him like the nets the gibbering monkkers of the Labyrinth use to snare the unwary. The faint glow of his sigla disappeared. He
knew himself to be completely helpless, completely at the mercy of whatever was in here. He stumbled about in a blind panic, fighting to free himself. The ax slid from his sweat-damp hand.

Two eyes, slits of red-green flame, slowly opened. The darkness took shape and form around the eyes, and Haplo was aware of a gigantic serpentine head. He was aware, too, of a ripple in the darkness, a shimmer of doubt, astonishment.

“A Patryn?” The voice was soft, sibilant.

“Yes,” Haplo answered, tense, wary. “I am a Patryn. What are you?”

The eyes closed. The darkness returned, strong, intense, guarding. Haplo stretched out a groping hand, hoping to find the steering mechanism. His fingers brushed against cold, scaly flesh. A viscous liquid clung to his skin, chilled his blood, began to burn his skin. His stomach wrenched in revulsion. Shuddering, he tried to wipe the slime off on his trousers.

The eyes opened again, their light eerie. The eyes were huge. It seemed he could have walked into the black, slit pupils without ducking.

“The Royal One bids me give you welcome and say to you, The time is at hand. Your enemy is awake.'”

“I don't know what you mean, what you're talking about,” Haplo said warily. “What enemy?”

“The Royal One will explain everything if you will honor him with your presence. However, I am permitted to speak one word that may quicken your interest. I am to say, ‘Samah.’”

“Samah!” Haplo breathed. “Samah!”

He couldn't believe what he'd heard. It didn't make sense. He wanted to question the creature, but, suddenly, his heart began to pound. The blood rushed to his head, fire filled his brain. He took a step, staggered, and pitched forward onto his face to lie still and unmoving.

The green-red eyes glittered, slowly shut.

SO NOW WE'VE GOT THIS HUMAN, THIS HAPLO. I WANT VERY
much to trust him, and yet I don't. Is it just the prejudice of a dwarf against any of another race? That might have been so, back in the old days. But I would trust Alake with my life, the same with Devon. Unfortunately, my life appears to be not in their care, but in Haplo's.

It will be a relief to write down how I really feel about him. I can't say a word against him to Alake, who has fallen for this man deeper than a dwarf in his ale mug. As for Devon … he was suspicious of him at the beginning, but after what happened with the dragon-snakes … well, you might have thought an elven warrior of ancient days had come to call him to arms.

Alake says that I am only chewing sour grapes because Haplo made me see that we acted like fools, running off to give ourselves to be sacrificed. But we dwarves are naturally skeptical and suspicious of strangers. We tend not to trust anyone until we get to know them several hundred cycles.

This Haplo has yet to say anything about where he comes from and who he is, and, beyond that, he's made one or two extremely curious statements and has behaved most peculiarly in regard to the dragon-snakes.

I admit I was wrong about one thing—Haplo is obviously not a spy sent by the dragons. It is difficult to see inside the man. A shadow covers him and his words. He walks in a
darkness of his own creation, using it, I would guess, for protection and defense. Yet, sometimes, despite himself, the clouds are rent by a flash of lightning, both frightening and illuminating. Such a flash came from Haplo when we told him about the dragon-snakes.

In fact, thinking back on his reaction, I begin to see that he went out of his way to convince us we should try to seize control of the ship and flee to safety. Which makes what happened later all the more strange.

And I must give credit where it is due. Haplo is the bravest man I've ever met. I know of no dwarf, not even Hartmut, who could have walked down the dread corridor and into the steerage.

We kept behind, waiting for him, as he ordered.

“We should go with him,” Devon said.

“Yes,” agreed Alake faintly, but I noticed that neither of them moved a muscle. “I wish we had some no-fear weed. Then we wouldn't be afraid.”

“Well, we don't. Whatever it is,” I whispered. “As for wishes, I wish I was back home!”

Devon was that faint color of blue-green elves turn when they're sick or afraid. Sweat glistened on Alake's black skin, and she shivered like a leaf. I'm not ashamed to say that my shoes were as good as nailed to the deck. Otherwise I would have done the sensible thing and run for dear life.

We watched Haplo enter the steerage. Blackness covered him, swallowed him up whole. Alake gave a little cry and hid her face in her hands. Then we heard voices … Haplo's voice talking and another answering.

“At least nothing's killed him yet,” I rfiuttered.

Alake perked up, lifted her head. We all strained to hear what was being said.

The words were gibberish. We looked at each other questioningly. None of us understood.

“It's that same language he talked when he was out of his head,” I whispered. “And whatever's in there understands it!”

Wihich was something I didn't like one bit, as I was just about to say, when Haplo suddenly gave a great cry
that stopped my breathing. And then Alake gave a cry as
if someone had torn out her heart. She darted down the passage, heading straight for the steerage!

Devon ran after Alake, leaving me to reflect on the brainless natures of elves and humans (and dwarves). I had no choice, of course, but to run after them.

I arrived in the steerage to find Alake bent over Haplo, who was lying unconscious on the deck. Devon, with more presence of mind than I would have given an elf, had picked up the battle ax and was standing over the two protectively.

I looked quickly about the steerage. It was darker than the inside of our mountain and smelled awful. The stench made me gag. It was horribly cold, but the strange, paralyzing feeling of terror that had kept us out of here before was gone.

“Is he dead?” I asked.

“No!” Alake was stroking back his hair. “He's fainted. He drove it away! Don't you see, Grundle?”

I saw the love and admiration in her eyes and my heart sank.

“He fought it and drove it away! He's saved us.”

“He did. He truly did!” Devon said, gazing down at Haplo in awe.

“Give me that!” I said grumpily, and snatched the ax away from the elf, “before you cut off something valuable and really turn yourself into a girl! And what do you mean, he drove it away? That scream of his didn't sound like any battle cry to me.”