“This lake,” Feril said in a hushed voice, “is where Qualinost used to be.”
Ragh staggered forward. “Qualinost, the elf capital…”
“Yes, the city was right out there…somewhere out there. Dhamon, I know you and the sivak have been living in a cave, but don’t you know about the elves? Even on the Isle of Cristyne we heard about the demise of Qualinost.”
“There’s a lot about what’s going on in the world that we don’t know,” Ragh said tersely. “It’s not easy for…such as Dhamon and I…to walk into a city and hear the latest news and gossip. Hard enough finding you, elf. That took a big satchel of steel and lots of threats.” He made a tsk-tsking sound and shook his head. “The whole city. Gone? I’d seen it almost seventy, eighty years ago…from high above. I thought it impressive for something of elven construction.”
Feril’s eyes narrowed at the insult as she approached the lake reverently. Her gaze drifted warily between the water and the sand. She glanced down at her feet. The grass was thick and mixed with stunted fennel and felt good between her toes. It reached no taller than her ankles, as if it had been regularly grazed upon. She smelled sulfur and swamp rot and knew Dhamon and Ragh were close behind her.
“You move quietly,” she flung over her shoulder.
“No animal prints, Feril.” Dhamon had been intently studying the ground. “You’d think there would be creature tracks in the sand, but there are none. Something is cropping the grass around here, though.”
“Nothing drinks from the lake,” Ragh cut in, “and here I am thirsty. Wonderful.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean the water’s bad,” Feril said. “Let’s see.” She bent to her knees and took a deep breath. “It does not smell tainted, yet I agree it is unnaturally dark. Perhaps animals are scarce here or do not drink from the lake along this section of shore, but they might drink from it elsewhere.”
“Perhaps.” The sivak’s tone was skeptical. “Dhamon, enough with the suspense. Tell us, how is this lake going to help you become human again?”
Feril raised her shoulders in a half-shrug and tentatively touched the water with her toes. “The lake can’t help him, sivak.”
Ragh growled. “Of course it can. Otherwise, why by the number of the Dark Queen’s heads did we come here? Don’t tell me it was a wasted, worthless…”
“It’s what’s in the lake that could make all the difference, right, Dhamon?” Feril stepped forward until the water came up to her knees. She’d caused only the faintest ripples when she entered, and the water was still smooth like glass behind her, where she’d already passed. “They say the city of Qualinost still exists here, but it’s beneath the water. They say that when Beryl…they called her the Green Peril…succumbed to the elven army led by Laurana and Marshall Medan, that she destroyed Qualinost in her final moments. They say the dragon thrashed so hard a crater was created, and the White Rage River filled it up. Nalis Aren was born.”
Ragh continued to growl softly, looking up at Dhamon. “Great. A dead city. What exactly do you think is in the lake? You saw something in that crystal ball, didn’t you? That’s why we’re here.” The sivak ground the ball of his foot into the sand. “Coarse stuff,” he muttered to himself, “much coarser than sand should feel. You’d think there’d be dirt here instead of sand this far inland.”
Feril thought the water was warm, though not so warm as the summer air. Perhaps the breeze blowing from the south had cooled it a little. It was comfortable, relaxing, and she found herself suddenly looking forward to a swim. It was odd, however, that there was a slight mist above the water carrying a chill.
“Qualinost was in the crystal ball, Ragh,” Dhamon rumbled finally, catching Feril’s eye with his intense gaze. “The crystal revealed that Qualinost is indeed still here, at the bottom of this lake, relatively intact. The crystal told me there’s something down there that can make me human again.”
“The city’s intact?” Ragh kept grinding his foot, curious to see how deep the sand was. “And there’s something hidden in it that will help?” His tone seemed incredulous.
“So the crystal says. Unfortunately, the crystal did not reveal just what that ‘something’ was.”
“I suspect there’s plenty of magic left in the city,” Feril volunteered. “A few Qualinesti refugees I helped on Cristyne told me stories.”
Dhamon nodded. “I need you both to help me find the magic.”
Feril turned and looked at him as her fingers drew circles in the water. She shivered from the cold mist, and suddenly there was something cold in her eyes. “Dhamon, I would like to help you be human again, but…this lake is very big. The city was immense. This would be like looking for one perfect hair on a shaggy dog.”
She took a few steps closer to the shore, anger now flitting on her face. The water lapped around her calves, and she stared at Dhamon with an odd expression before speaking again. “As curious as I am about this lake, I get a feeling of dread. This is a dangerous place, and what you’re looking for…you don’t know what you’re looking for…could well be impossible to find. I don’t think…”
Dhamon cleared his throat, the sound rough and loud, giving both Feril and Ragh a start. “I realize it’s dangerous, but I will make it worth your while, Feril.”
The Kagonesti arched a dubious eyebrow.
“You know I have treasure in my lair. It’s a fortune on your terms, and you could use it to help your refugees. You can have all of it, Feril. You know you have power to survive underwater longer than my kind. If you explore the lake and discover what is down there that can make me human again, you can have all my treasure.”
“Hey!” Ragh protested, before Dhamon swiveled his head and cut him off with a glare.
“A fortune?” Feril wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to ward off the chill of the mist.
“Gold, gems, and magical baubles…all of it yours and all of it certainly worth the risks of Nalis Aren. Think how many refugees you could help.”
She stood silent for several moments, weighing the offer. “This is absurd,” she said at last, “and too dangerous.” She turned and faced the center of the lake and glided farther out from the shore, testing the waters up to her waist. “The refugees do need help, and if the city is indeed at the bottom of this lake, there might be wisdom and magic in it, no doubt many things precious and arcane. When the elves fled, they could take only a handful of possessions with them. They had to leave practically everything behind.”
“So the crystal ball might be right,” Ragh, excited despite himself, interjected. “There could be a cure down there for Dhamon.”
“There were many sorcerers and scholars in Qualinost, the finest elf minds in all of this land.” She stirred the water with her fingers, noticing that the swirls were small and the surface was disturbed only briefly before returning to placidity. “Perhaps the finest minds in all of Ansalon.” She tried to flick a ripple away from her, but that stopped rippling within a few inches. “Odd.”
“Odd that elves had fine minds?” Ragh mused. Much, much softer, “I’ve respect for elves, Feril. More than they’ve respect for me and my kind.”
“Feril…” Dhamon edged forward, his front claws reaching into the shallows of the lake. “Do you really think the Qualinesti’s magic could hold the key?”