Gerik refused to give details. Bertsa Wylum went in, then came out milk-colored and faster than she'd entered, to also get rid of everything she'd eaten for a week.
After that, nobody was curious enough to go in. Gerik wondered what they were imagining. He doubted that they could imagine anything equal to the reality. Mercifully, everyone was silent, even the kender.
Some people, however, had both imagined this and done it. If they ever came within reach of Gerik's steel or even his bare hands, they were dead.
Meanwhile, it was home to Tirabot-which was about to be home no more. It had to be over the border into Solamnia for everyone, the women, children, and villagers so that they would not face this, with the fighters guarding them on the way.
As they rode out of the village, smoke scrawled a greasy mark across the sky to the east.
Chapter 19
Pirvan and Haimya were the first to wade ashore from the boat, and nearly the last. They had just reached the hard-packed sand below the tide line when they heard screams behind them.
They turned to see dark, sinuous forms rippling through the water. One was clinging to the calf of a man knee-deep in the water. He drew his sword and slashed down; the snake divided in two. Blood clouded the water for a moment-then the severed tail of the snake grew its own fanged head, and both halves returned to the attack.
Meanwhile, blood trickled from the man's eyes and nose. He stared wildly about him, then coughed, bringing up more blood. His eyes widened, he clawed at his chest, and fell into the water with one snake still clinging to him.
Another man who'd climbed from the boat behind Pirvan and Haimya had gone farther and was luckier. One of the sea snakes wriggled onto the sand, pursuing him, but only struck his boot. The heavy leather turned the fangs, and he spun about, bringing the other foot down hard on the snake's head. It went limp, and the head did not grow afresh.
Pirvan cupped his hands and shouted, "Strike for the heads! They can't revive if you take their heads!"
How many heard him, above the shouts and screams of wading fighters bitten and dying horribly, Pirvan never knew. But he saw boats backing oars, pulling wading people into them, while those in the water dashed frantically for land. Many of them reached it safely, but for those bitten on the way there was only one end. The snakes' poison worked too swiftly for healing, even had there been a healer on the beach for each bitten man.
In time, Pirvan stopped shouting and started counting. Close to four hundred fighters were ashore, with their weapons and armor but scantily equipped as to water and food. The knight doubted if there was anything to eat or drink on the island, or at least anything that Wilthur could not make poisonous.
Forty or more bodies washed back and forth in the low surf, some still trailing blood. Pirvan wondered how long it would take the blood to attract some of the seaborne predators who would drive themselves aground, drawn by the scent of fresh blood. At least a school of sharks or sea pike might find the snakes to their taste.
Pirvan looked out to sea. The boats farther offshore were resting on their oars. Twice he saw steel flash in the watery sunlight, as sailors fought sea snakes trying to crawl aboard.
Tarothin hurried up, followed by Sir Niebar, who actually looked fit to be out of bed and ashore, if not wielding a sword in desperate battle. The Red Robe looked grim. "Are we cut off from help from the sea?" he asked.
"I'm sure there's a spell that will end those snakes," Pirvan offered. "If you don't know it, then try to reach Lujimar or Lady Revella."
"I can try, and probably succeed, But what of Wilthur listening to what we say?"
"Do what you think best," Pirvan said. "Certainly we do not wish to make a gift of our secrets." He looked along the beach. "Better yet, can you levitate a few rocks and logs onto that sand spit, the one just below the grove of horn-fruit?"
Tarothin frowned. "A very few, yes, but why-oh, I see. A pier, so the men can walk ashore dry shod?"
"Yes," Pirvan said. "Those snakes seem to be bound with water magic. They're slower and weaker out of the water, and perhaps they can't regenerate on land. If you can't make a safe pier without exhausting yourself, we can try boats lined up abreast with planks over them. The knights have used that for landing horses more than a few times."
"Why don't we try both?" Tarothin said. "Sir Niebar, if you can organize a floating pier, perhaps I can try levitating the materials for the other one."
Pirvan was about to caution Tarothin about giving orders to Sir Niebar, when he caught sight of the older knight trying not to smile. Niebar knew the ways of wizards, and besides, he was back on a battlefield. For that privilege, he looked ready to take orders from Pirvan's daughter Rubina.
With a safe landing once again in prospect, Pirvan turned his attention to the men already ashore. It would be as well to get them out of the sun, but anything large enough to provide shade Wilthur could also turn against them.
At least there were patches of ground, cleared in the last battle and not yet regrown. In these, the fighters would be out of reach of any remaining plants and could see any animals coming at them in time. But sooner or later they would have to break new trails, in the face of the worst Wilthur could hurl at both men and minotaurs. If either Darin's band slipping in under the Smoker or the fighters marching overland faltered, Wilthur could throw all his strength against the other.
Darin scrambled out of the water and reached down to help Rynthala follow. She did not need the help, but sprang onto the rock as if she were Dimernesti herself. The shelf of rock where they stood lay at the base of the inner wall of a large sea cave. With the tide where it was now, the cave's mouth rose twice the height of a man above the water. Through the mouth, half a mile across the sun-gilt water, Darin saw Red Elf.
From the ship to the cave mouth ran a waterborne trail of boats and swimmers. The boats carried mostly humans, although more than a few humans had chosen to swim. The boats also carried the supplies for the landing party. On either flank of the boats swam sea otters, most of whom could not be Dimernesti, unless the shallows-dwellers were far more numerous in these waters than Darin had been led to believe.
A sea otter shot in through the cave mouth, slid up onto a rock, and transformed. Mirraleen then dived off the rock and swam up to Darin.
"We have word from the beaches, human and minotaur," she told him. "Wilthur has conjured poisonous sea snakes."
"Can the sea otters guard our swimmers?" Darin asked. Then, at a cough from Rynthala, he added hastily, "That is, without putting themselves too much in danger?"
Mirraleen frowned. "Some are agile enough, I am sure," she said. "But it would be wiser for the humans to enter the boats, however well they can swim. Word is that the snakes are clumsy out of the water."
"Very well. Then we should send word."
Mirraleen crouched by the water and barked like a sea otter. Two furry heads broke the surface; she barked again. The otters flipped end for end like acrobats and dived for the cave mouth.
The news that Wilthur was striking back seemed to lend wings to the oars and new strength to the swimmers. They rushed toward the cave mouth, and within minutes Darin saw a mirror wink from Red Elf. The last of the landing party was coming ashore, but the ship would wait until all were safely within the cave.
Torvik was in the last boat. As it passed through the cave mouth, he sprang overboard and swam to the rock shelf. Then he and Mirraleen embraced, as chastely as possible considering how little either of them was wearing.
Darin himself would have preferred, if not armor, at least more clothing between his skin and the rock. But he could not deny that wet clothing weighed a swimmer down, and there could be much more swimming between the cave and Wilthur's lair.