The sailor quickly opened it and pulled out the box containing his enchanted necklace. The metal fish’s bejeweled scales glimmered in the dim light inside the sunken cabin. Mik took the amulet from the box and hung it around his neck.
For a moment, he felt sick to his stomach, as the magic of the necklace tangled with the water-breathing spell from the seaweed. He spat the chaw of weed into his hand and immediately the pain passed. In a moment, the submarine world around him became brighter as the amulet’s powerful enchantment sharpened his senses. His lungs filled with sweet, fresh air, and his limbs tingled with new vitality. Then a shiver ran through him, and he noticed that three more jeweled scales had flaked away.
Mik grimaced and handed the magical seaweed back to Trip. “Thanks,” he said.
The kender frowned at the green-brown wad before popping it into one of the many pockets of his lizard-skin vest. “Dunno…” he said, “how good it is… used.”
Mik knelt beside the sea chest and opened the box with his copy of the Prophecy. The box, though, was not watertight, and the parchment had already been ruined. A small cloud of blue-black ink puffed into the water as the paper floated out, like a pale bit of seaweed.
The two of them quickly sifted through the jumble and turned up Mik’s sword. They took all the coins they found as well, knowing they’d need cash when they reached civilization again.
“You still have the black diamond?” Mik asked.
Trip nodded and patted one of the pockets of his lizard-skin vest. “Ula had… right idea about… money,” he commented.
“The others… dead?”
Trip shrugged. “We were… lucky.”
“Let’s surface,” the captain said. “If anyone’s still alive…”
They swam hack out the cabin door and took a moment to get their bearings. Light from the storm and the fire above had died away considerably. Darkness shrouded the sea, and even their magically assisted sight couldn’t penetrate far.
A swift-moving shadow flitted past, just at the edge of their vision. As the captain and the kender turned to face it, something struck them both from behind.
A heavily weighted net encircled them, pinning their arms and making it difficult to move. Mik twisted against the ropes and yanked his specially weighted dagger free from its scabbard. He threw the knife at a shadowy figure nearby.
The underwater shiv sliced through the water and struck the object with a dull thud.
Deep laughter echoed through the darkness.
Mik reached for his cutlass, but the shadowed figure tugged on a line, tightening the net so he could barely move. Trip, though, had managed to pull both his daggers and was already working on cutting the sturdy mesh.
Another figure, swimming almost too swiftly to see in the darkness, yanked on another cord and toppled them off their feet. Trip’s daggers fell from his hands and settled to the sea bed below.
The two figures circled quickly outside the netting, pulling the trap tight around the sailor and his diminutive companion. Try as they might, Mik and Trip could not break free. In moments they lay bound and helpless on the bottom of the sea.
Chapter Eleven
Mik struggled against the rope netting binding his arms and legs.
“We must reach the surface!” he said.”
“Friends… maybe… dying!” Trip burbled.
“Anyone on the surface is dead already,” said a raspy female voice. The voice was far clearer than Trip’s, or even Mik’s magically assisted tones-as though it had been born to deep waters. “Sea dragons don’t take prisoners, and Tempest is the worst of all,” the voice continued.
“A had break for sailors,” added the deep voice they’d heard laughing before, “but very good for our business.” This voice was just as clear as the first.
“Who are you?” Mik asked, peering into the shadowy deep. “What do you want?”
“Salvage,” the raspy voice, which was attached to the slender, swift-moving form, replied. “Even half-drowned sailors have some value.”
“We should go,” the deeper voice said. “The dragon isn’t far off. We should return to Reeftown.” A huge armored knight emerged from the shadows and began reeling in the net containing the captured mariners.
Mik and Trip glanced at each other in wonder.
“How…?” Trip blurted.
“Yes,” the raspy voice said, “we should hurry back. I want to see what our other salvage parties have brought to fatten my treasury. See to the prisoners, Shimmer.”
Shimmer, the underwater knight, nodded and said, “Yes, Lakuda.” As he drew closer to the captives, tightening the net as he came, his appearance became more defined. He was a tall man in shiny reddish armor decorated with fins, scales, and fishlike patterns. A spiky helmet completely covered his face.
The creature known as Lakuda swam forward with a few quick undulations of her lean body. Her black eyes peered at the prisoners in the weighted net. She was dressed in a combination of form-fitting black orca-leather and golden jewelry. Her face was thin and sharp-featured. She had tightly tied green hair and pointed ears. Even without her pale blue skin, Mik and Trip would have realized immediately that she was a sea elf.
Moving with the deadly grace of a razorfish, Lakuda regarded the prisoners with a cold, predatory smile. She poked a slender finger into Mik’s shoulder; he struggled.
“This one seems strong enough,” Lakuda said. “Tough, too, or he wouldn’t have survived in such good shape. Perhaps he’ll fetch something. The kender’s next to worthless, though. We should leave him for the sharks.”
“We’ve captured them,” Shimmer said. “We have a duty to keep them alive-at least until we reach home.”
Lakuda arched one eyebrow at him. “You’d do better if you abandoned such hopelessly idealistic notions, Shimmer,” she said. “They’re not profitable.” She swooped down and retrieved Mik’s knife and the kender’s daggers from where they’d settled into the silt, and tucked them into a bag.
“We were traveling with an aristocrat from Jotan,” Mik said. “Profit for her rescue would certainly be great.” The tightness of the net made it difficult to speak, even with aid of the necklace’s spell.
Lakuda gazed into Mik’s brown eyes, trying to determine whether he was telling the truth. “Don’t toy with me, sailor,” she said sternly.
Shimmer turned his armored head toward the surface, two-hundred and forty feet above.
“If anyone’s alive up there, they’ve either been taken by the dragon or by one of your other pods,” he advised Lakuda.
“You can… see all that… from down here?” Trip burbled, awed. He peered up but saw nothing.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Lakuda said. “Come, Shimmer.” She put one of the lines securing the net over her shoulder and began to swim away.
Shimmer grunted and did the same.
“Is your shoulder acting up?” Lakuda asked.
“Not to worry about, Mistress,” Shimmer replied.
“We could swim along with you… if you let us free,” Mik suggested.
Lakuda laughed, a chilling sound rippling through the water. “And then you’d meekly follow us back to Reeftown to be ransomed.”
“Where else would we go?” Mik asked.
“I’ve never seen… a sea-elf city,” Trip bubbled, his eyes lighting up.
Lakuda ignored the kender. “You’d be fools to try to go anywhere,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t try, though. You’re already marked as fools to venture this far north. The continent is too far to swim, and no one enters the Dragon Isles-without permission.”
“We make a living off fools like you,” Shimmer added with a chuckle. “Business was good even before Tempest started patrolling these waters.”
“I’m Captain Mikal Vardan,” Mik said.
“Former captain, I’d say,” Lakuda interjected.
Mik fought down a wave of anger and continued, “… and this is my ace diver, Tripleknot Shellcracker.”