She accepted it, her hand brushing his. In their brief touch, she found his skin warm, indeed. She held the sizzling fold of meat on the stick, then brought it up to her face and nibbled gingerly at it. It was still pretty hot, and at first she got a mouthful of hot grease and flesh, but as it cooled quickly in the wind, she found it very succulent and flavourful. She ate it all, savouring it to the last bite, and then, following the other’s example, she ran her tongue along a runnel of juice that had spilled down the side of her hand.
The man was less dainty in his enjoyment of the fish. He took it straight from the fire with his fingertips and tossed it between his palms as it cooled, and then quickly tossed the chunks that fell off of it into his mouth, where he chewed it with wide, biting chomps. The fish all gone, he once again set to cleaning his hands with his tongue. Now finished, he smacked his lips and gazed lustily at the pile of entrails, bones, and fish heads he had discarded earlier.
“Well, thank you very much,” said Gretchen, rising and making to leave. She wasn’t about to stay and watch anyone eat that, no matter how-
“You’re not going, are you?”
Gretchen frowned. “I thought I might.”
“Why don’t you come home with me? I’d like to introduce you to my family, and I know that they’d love to meet you.”
“I don’t know,” Gretchen said. “Is it far?”
“It’s as near as the ocean spray on your face!” the man said, standing abruptly. He bent and picked up the long, leathery thing that was still flapping against the rock and shook it out. Gretchen now saw it was a leather jacket, some type of suede thing. The man fussed with it for a while and then wrapped it around his shoulders and clutched it around his waist. It didn’t seem to have any sleeves, pockets, or belt-it seemed to be all tailored from one piece. It was very odd, and more properly a cape than a coat.
“What’s your name?” Gretchen asked.
“Call me ron glas.”
“Ron Glass?”
“Yes, that will do. What’s your answer?” He held out his hand, and as Gretchen looked into his large, dark eyes, she knew that she would be going with him. She placed her hand in his.
But instead of leading her away from the water, he turned away from her and hooked her arm over his shoulder. “Hold me around here,” he said. “Both arms, tightly. Don’t let go, whatever happens.”
“What are you doing?” she called as he led her out into the ocean.
“Are you holding tightly?” he called back.
“Yes.”
“Very tightly?”
“Yes!”
“Then here we go!”
He leapt so powerfully that at first, Gretchen thought they were flying, seeing the seawater in the bay blur beneath them, but midair, something astonishing happened. The leather coat flapped out and then wrapped around him, head to foot, clinging to him like a wetsuit or a second skin.
Then they were falling, and Gretchen had just enough time to take a quick gasp of air before her head plunged under the water. She felt the man rippling under her, propelling himself with a vigorous and apparently highly effective jack-knife action. He bumped and shook against her so powerfully she felt that she would have to let go, but just as she felt the air in her lungs start to expire, he surged upward and their heads broke the water.
Gretchen got the shock of her life when she realised that the shoulders she held on to were not that of the attractive young man, but that of a sleek, whiskered seal. At first she thought it was just a trick of the eye, that the hood he wore was only made up to look like a seal, but then the head turned, rolled one large puppy-dog eye toward her, gave a wink, licked its nose, and then turned and continued carrying her away from the sunset.
V
Alex and Ecgbryt were profoundly disheartened. They had visited no less than four sleeping chambers, only to find them raided and their occupants slaughtered. They did not talk to each other-they had nothing to say. Their spirits were as low as the short tunnels they had to crouch through and as smothering as the narrow cave walls around them. They felt smothered. Alex took to openly swearing at every bump and jolt that a rocky outcrop or low ceiling gave him. He felt that the tunnels themselves were outrightly hostile, reaching out and hitting him when opportunity arose.
They were utterly soaked. Water dripped from the walls when it didn’t cascade around them. At times they had to wade, hipdeep, along freezing streams, and it was absolutely impossible to get dry afterward. There was nowhere to rest that wasn’t slippery with slime. Alex decided he was going to raise serious objections to continuing their quest after the next stop on their map, which was bound to be another massacre scene.
They came to a staircase that curved upward. They mounted its steps and Alex gratefully found each one to be drier than the last. Perhaps he could convince Ecgbryt to stay and have a proper night’s sleep this time.
The stairs brightened as they turned. The walls transitioned from rough-hewn stone into smooth slabs, lit by the ambient glow of daylight. The breeze brought a smell to their nostrils that surprised them-the salty, moist scent of the sea-and their ears soon discerned the rhythmic rise and fall of waves. The sound was nourishment to Alex’s soul and he felt his pulse quicken. An eagerness leapt into his breast founded on. . he didn’t know exactly what.
They passed a window, which blinded them both. Ecgbryt clapped a hand full over his eyes as he passed it. Alex was forced to look away but then turned back when his eyes had adjusted. It was a typically overcast day by the ocean and not particularly bright. The water was all that was visible apart from a few jagged rocks it washed against.
Wiping the tears caused by the stinging light from his eyes, he followed Ecgbryt upward. They passed other windows, which allowed more views of the ocean surrounding them, but so far they had no indication of what was inside the tower they were circling.
Then they came to an archway that a stiff wind blew through, creating a low, hollow whistle. From one side of it, they could look down into a chamber that fell beneath them, nearly as far as they had climbed-roughly fifteen metres, Alex judged. Stairs led down, curving against the wall, and above them, the tower appeared to be open at the top since a pale silver disc of sky was visible. The walls were as straight and flat as the day they were carved, but slits and strangely angled windows were placed at odd points in the tower that served to create some sort of complex wind tunnel.
The entryway into the chamber looked down on the sleepers. There were eight of them lying upon the customary plinths at the bottom of the tower.
“They look to be unharmed,” Alex said in wonder. “It’s hard to say exactly, but they look. . fine.”
“There, see,” Ecgbryt said, pointing to the base of the steps. “Bodies. Bones, some weaponry. They are yfelgopes!” he exclaimed, excitement instantly mounting in his voice. “There must be a hundred of them. This is where their murderous path ended!”
Alex peered around Ecgbryt’s shoulder. What he first thought was rocky debris was in fact a pile of bodies, reminiscent of pictures of holocaust camps.
He swallowed and started into the chamber, but Ecgbryt held him back.
“Hold. They may have perished by some sort of trap,” Ecgbryt said. “I don’t see how the yfelgopes would be so foolish as to awaken the knights, even accidentally.”
They stood there for a moment, pondering their next step.
“Where is the horn?” asked Ecgbryt.
“I don’t see it. Do they need it?”
“Horns wake the sleepers.”
“Horns. . oh, aye. I think I have it!” Alex said and pushed past the large knight.
“Be careful as you-” Ecgbryt started to warn him.