“Just a little farther,” she urged herself, “for Dhamon and for the treasure that will help the refugees.” It was equally for her own curiosity. If truth be told, she had been headed in the direction of the lake when Dhamon and the sivak crossed her path. She’d intended to visit this place when she’d first learned of it last year, though she’d been taking her time getting here. She’d never been to Qualinost when it was teeming with elves—she had no desire then. There would have been crowds, elves asking the Kagonesti stranger questions, pressing against her on the street. She preferred her blessed solitude—she relished her solitude even here in the lake. “There must be a bottom. Broken homes, shattered towers, and…”
The lake changed abruptly, startling the Kagonesti. It had grown darker still, the dark blue giving way to a dusky green, the pleasant warmth becoming instantly, numbingly cold. It was as if she’d jumped into a glacier lake in Southern Ergoth. She blinked furiously as her eyes tried to adjust. There was something below her, just outside her vision—a stark angular shape. A tower?
She pointed herself straight down like an arrow and kicked her feet violently. At the same time she fought to separate the dark colors and shadows and to keep her imagination in reign. Was this the outskirts of the city? Was Qualinost truly at the bottom of this lake, as the tales claimed? Or was she seeing the husk of a dead tree? Perhaps she wasn’t seeing anything, her mind was playing tricks.
No, she told herself. There is definitely something there.
She kicked even more furiously, trying to fight off the cold, which was becoming hurtful, streaming through the water and locking her gaze on the angular object. Her heart beat faster in anticipation as she drove herself harder.
No! Only a tree, she realized, one that had been large and wide in life loomed like an obelisk now, but a tree nonetheless. Though disappointed, Feril still had no intention of retreating to the warmth of the surface. If there was a giant of a tree such as this deep down in this lake, there could well be other surprises.
“Qualinost,” she whispered, the word carrying through the water not intelligibly, but as bubbles flowing around her ears. Qualinost must be here, she repeated to herself. It has to be here somewhere—the tales can’t be wrong.
“It is here,” came an unbidden reply. “Just a little farther. I’ll show you the way.”
Something gripped the Kagonesti’s wrists and pulled her. The touch was impossibly cold and impressively strong. Feril struggled against it, but the force tugged her inexorably down, down, down—where the cold was all around.
6
An hour later, Dhamon was half in, half out of the lake, his tail twitching on the sand and creating patterns that the sivak could watch disappear.
“You said the elf could take care of herself.”
“She can, Ragh.”
“Then why worry?”
“I’m not worried.”
Dhamon stared into the water, seemingly looking at his own scaly reflection through the top layer of mist, but truthfully staring at something far beyond the lake and beyond this day. He saw himself six years ago, when he boasted wheat-blond hair and as much honor and stout-heartedness as any knight. He’d not been long-removed from the Dark Knights, as they called themselves then. His soul was shiny then, after being polished by an aging Solamnic Knight whom he’d come to know as a mentor and friend. His heart had been pledged to helping Goldmoon and her companions against the dragon overlords. Feril was among those companions: he, Rig, Palin, and the others…all of them believing they could make a difference in the world and were looking for a way.
Dhamon thought he loved her from first sight, even though, smiling inwardly, he knew he initially had rebelled against that notion. She as an elf after all, and he was a human; their lives were so differently fated, and his years on the earth would be so short compared to hers. She was a Kagonesti, a wild elf, a loner. He was a former Dark Knight with so much blood on his hands. Still, they did become swept up in each other, at least for a little while. The memory of that time was the sweetest thing that kept him going. Did he still love her?
Could he ever be human again? Dhamon looked at his reflection and shuddered. Unspoken always was the faint hope that if he was human, he could—perhaps— be with Feril again. Unless she chose to leave once more or truly expected him to part with his hoard to help refugees, because he might still love her, but not enough to part with the riches and what they could bring him.
As much as he was repulsed by his dragon-self, did he truly want to be human? A part of him relished the amazing power of this body, savored the sensations of flight. A part of him didn’t want to give up being a dragon.
“You said the elf could breathe water, could turn into a fish if she wanted to.” Ragh was standing at the very edge of the water. “You said that.”
“Yes,” Dhamon snarled, irked that his thoughts had been interrupted.
“Then let’s wait for her back by those trees like she asked us to. Maybe she can find whatever it is down there that can make you human again. Too bad that crystal ball wasn’t more precise, didn’t tell just what you needed to find. Hope the elf can figure it out. Sure is taking her a while.” The draconian looked over his shoulder. The shade was inviting. “It’s hot out here in the open, Dhamon, and I think the shade would do us both some good. We could cool off some.”
Dhamon suspected this summer heat didn’t at all bother Ragh. He knew the draconian preferred the camouflage of the shade, however. It was too easy to be spotted in the open, especially against the stark-ness of the sand and the lake here. The sivak once had been a spy for Sable and was used to keeping to the corners and shadows, so his anxiety had nothing to do with the heat of this late summer day, Dhamon decided. Ragh simply wanted to be safe from any prying eyes.
“I’ll wait for Feril right here, Ragh. You go ahead.”
“Fine. Fine. Fine.” The sivak ground the ball of his foot into the sand and watched until the depression smoothed itself over. “You wait right here for your precious elf, where it’s all hot and…”
“You’re the one who persuaded me to leave the swamp. Ultimately, this flying around and exploring was your idea.”
“My idea? Yeah, but I’m not the one who was looking in the crystal ball looking for a cure. Whoever’s idea it was, it isn’t such a bad one, eh? Not so humid here as in the swamp, and the trees are different. The smells are different.” He wrinkled his nose at Dhamon. “No giant alligators nipping at our heels. You’re back in touch with the love of your life, and she’s trying to make you human again…even though she doesn’t know you’re not going to keep your part of the bargain, even though this elf-lady hasn’t a clue that you won’t donate all your treasure to refugees. All in all, I’d say this is a good venture, huh?”
Dhamon wondered if he detected a touch of melancholy in the sivak’s tone.
“We got out of the swamp and far away from Sable,” Ragh continued aimlessly, as he edged back toward the shade, “at least for a while, and I got to see something I never had before…a lake where the mighty elven city of Qualinost once sprawled. It was definitely a good idea, this…holiday away from the swamp. Another good idea is waiting for the elf in the shade, which is just what I’m going to do. You can go ahead and stay here if you want…”
Dhamon slid partway into the water. “She’s been gone for too long a time, Ragh, too long for my liking. I think I’d better try and look for her.”