But he was wrong.
“You should marry her, boy. As soon as possible.”
Although his voice was still hoarse, Ulin thought he heard a touch of wistfulness or perhaps sadness in Kethril’s words. Ulin did not bother to reply. All this talk had exhausted him, and the collar around his neck hurt abominably.
He held still for a while and wished he could go to sleep. Unfortunately, the cold water was not inducive to relaxation. He felt chilled to the bone, and he knew if that condition continued his body temperature would drop and he would become lethargic, delusional, and eventually he would die. Somehow, in spite of the pain and exhaustion, that thought annoyed him. He did not want to die. He wanted to take Kethril to Lucy and say, “Here he is, now let’s go home, get married, have children, and grow old together.” He wanted more than anything in the world to live long enough to tell Lucy how much he loved her-just her. For the first time he accepted that the ghosts of his first wife and their son and daughter were still faithfully in his heart, but they were just those: memories, ghosts, pieces of his past that he would treasure. They were not of the present or the future. That was Lucy.
Ulin felt a new jolt of strength course through his limbs. Both his wrists and ankles were tied with something that felt like rough, dried seaweed, but if he could get his hands free, he might be able to unlock the collar around his neck. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he tried to work his tied hands down and around his legs. It was easier thought than done. His muscles were stiff and numb from the cold, and although most of his clothing had been removed, his bound arms barely fit past his long legs. After much splashing and struggling, he finally squeezed through the circle of his arms and hung for a minute gathering his breath.
“What are you doing?” Kethril asked from the dark.
Ulin coughed out a mouthful of water. Instead of replying, he raised his hands above the water, closed his eyes, and chanted a soft incantation. It was a basic spell, one of the easiest works taught to beginners, and one he had been able to do since he was a little boy. Like most of his spells, he hadn’t been able to perform it properly since the trouble with magic began, but maybe just this once, it would work for him. He drew in the ancient power, forced it to his will, and set the spell into effect. Nothing tickled his neck or buzzed in his ear or drained the power away. The magic coalesced into a small ball and began to glow in the darkness of the cave just a few feet away from his head. He saw its glow through his eyelids and gave thanks. Ulin opened his eyes. The sphere of greenish light stayed in place and shed its soft illumination on the black water. It would stay there as long he willed it to remain.
“That’s a useful talent,” Kethril remarked.
Ulin snorted. “Beats card games.”
Kethril suddenly laughed, and his humor rang in the small chamber. “You’re no player, that was obvious. And that reminds me, how did you pull off that little trick with the sleeping powder?”
“A few things I learned from an old alchemist and my uncle.” Ulin swung around so he could see Kethril. Gods, he thought, if the man looked that bad, how awful do I look? Lucy’s father hung from a similar chain-and-collar restraint that held his head slightly above the water. His eyes were sunken into deep pits of exhaustion, and his skin was deathly pale. His hair lay plastered to his head with water and darker rivulets that Ulin guessed was blood. A dark bruise discolored his right cheek and a laceration marred his perfectly trimmed beard.
When Kethril saw Ulin’s expression, his white teeth flashed in the light in either a smile or a grimace. “Yes, boy. You look as bad as I do.”
“My name is Ulin.”
“As you say. So what is your next move?”
In reply, Ulin grabbed the chain above his head and hoisted his upper body up so he could have a look at the chain and the roof above their heads. The cave was small, with smooth walls and a low, rough ceiling. Ulin hoped the tide would not fill this cave any more than it already had, or he and Kethril would run out of breathing room very quickly. A quick check showed him the chain was fastened very securely to the ceiling by spikes hammered into the stone, and the chain itself was in good condition. There were no rusty links to break or separate. The collar proved equally as solid. The latch behind his head was locked in a way that defeated every attempt he made to unfasten it. Discouraged, he let himself down into the water and gave his arms a moment to rest while.
“How long have we been down here?” he asked Kethril after a time.
“Hours, at least. Maybe half a day. I’m not really sure. They brought a few others with us, but I haven’t seen anyone else since we were put in here.”
“Did you see Notwen?” Ulin asked, afraid of the answer. He hoped the little gnome’s death had been quick and painless.
“No. He would be nothing but shark bait to the ghagglers.”
Ulin let his breath out in a long low groan. “Gods, I wish we were out of here.”
Like an answer to his wish, a hideous face emerged from the water beside him. Great staring eyes glared at him and webbed fingers reached for his neck. The creature was big, nearly as tall as Ulin, with a hinged mouth filled with fangs and scaly skin the color of rotting timbers.
It snarled at him in rough Common, “Kill light, magic-maker. Kill it, or we snap your neck.”
Ulin recoiled in fear and loathing and quickly obeyed. The light blinked out and plunged the cave into absolute darkness. He could not see the ghaggler, but he could certainly feel and hear him. More sea-sligs surfaced. He felt cold, wet fingers grab his arms and legs, and the collar came loose around his neck. He had just a few seconds to take a quick breath before the monster dragged him under the water. The cold and darkness closed over him. He wracked his brains for something to do, but he could not move, could not breathe, could not think.
The ghagglers seemed to have some purpose in mind, for they hauled him through the water without attempting to kill him immediately. Ulin could not see a thing in the dense darkness, yet his captors had no difficulty maneuvering through the black waters. They swam easily and rapidly through what felt to Ulin was a series of underwater passages. His lungs began to ache. His headache returned in full force as his brain starved for air. He gritted his teeth until his jaw ached, and still the swim continued.
The urge to breathe had turned to a craving when Ulin felt the ghaggler charge upward. Ulin’s chest heaved, and suddenly he could not control the urge to breathe. He took a great gasping breath just as his head broke the surface of the water. Gasping and choking, he felt himself pulled to a rock ledge and heaved out of the water. Kethril was dumped beside him like a gasping fish. They lay side by side sucking air into their starved lungs, grateful for the brief reprieve.
Their captors cut the bonds around the men’s arms and dived back into the water, leaving the prisoners on the rocks.
Ulin found himself in a cavern where phosphorescent globes provided the only light. Dim and pale green, the globes cast weak shadows against the heavy darkness. Ulin blinked the water out of his eyes and pushed himself to a sitting position. His stomach did a flip-flop and turned cold as the enormity of their danger became clear. He and Kethril had been brought to a huge underwater cavern and put on a rocky outcropping that protruded into a large lake. All around the lake, swimming in the water, perched on the stony shore, or crouched on nearby rocks were ghagglers large and small. Hissing and snapping their fingers, they watched their prisoners like sharks eye their prey. Their shining black eyes glinted in the phosphorescent light. Their fangs gleamed as they jabbered and hissed to each other in their own foul language. Every sea-slig Ulin could see was armed with spears, tridents, or short wicked knives.