With her last ounce of strength, Vixa reached out her hand. Her fingers closed on a piece of slick driftwood lying nearby. Her eyelids fluttered down, and she lost consciousness.
The lightning flashed. The cool rain fell.
She awoke with the sun in her eyes and the squawk of wheeling sea gulls in her ears. Vixa turned her head and saw she was several yards from the hissing waves. She sat up slowly. The beach was wide and empty. The driftwood she had clung to was part of a shipwreck, sticking up from the sand.
Just as she’d begun to worry about Gundabyr, Vixa saw the dwarf’s vest lying on the beach next to her. At least, it used to be his vest. Now it was in two pieces. The cotton lining had been torn away from the outer woolen material. She picked it up and studied it. A smile slowly appeared on her face. Without further ado, Vixa donned the two garments.
Vixa saw bare footprints leading into the woods. The dwarf had obviously regained consciousness first and gone exploring. She hoped he’d find them something to eat. And drink. Vixa’s throat was parched. A long, cool drink of water would be paradise just now. That, and half a roasted ox.
As if on cue, Gundabyr appeared out of the trees, his thick arms laden with fruit. He nodded in response to her greeting, then dumped his load of plums, wild grapes, and thorn apples on the sand before her.
“If you’re as hungry as I was, dig in,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve had my fill already, so don’t be shy.”
Vixa took an apple in each hand and bit into them alternately. Juice ran down her chin. They were the finest apples she’d ever tasted.
“Yup, they’re good,” Gundabyr said, agreeing with her happy sigh.
She interrupted her chewing long enough to ask, “Do you know where we are?”
“The Silvanesti coast, I’d say. Or maybe Kharolis. I saw smoke over that way”-he pointed east-“so there may be a fisher’s hut there.”
Vixa ate all the apples, four plums, and most of the grapes before she ventured to stand. She still felt weak, but it was amazing how the fruit had restored her.
“Well, shall we introduce ourselves?” she said, gesturing eastward. They set off down the beach, and Vixa munched periodically on a handful of grapes.
It probably wasn’t the safest thing to do-two strangers walking up to the first signs of life they’d found on a foreign beach. If this was indeed Silvanesti territory, there wouldn’t be any brigands or slavers, but the Silvanesti themselves weren’t very hospitable to outsiders, especially dwarves and Qualinesti. Still, they had invaluable information for the Speaker of the Stars. Coryphene’s invasion force was probably only days behind them. Maybe only hours.
They’d spotted some dark objects on the beach ahead. As they drew nearer, Vixa recognized them as two small boats, keels up on the sand. The boats had the characteristic shape and decoration of elven craft. Between the upturned hulls a crude wooden rack had been set. Clean, gutted fish hung on the rack, drying in the hot sun. The smell of wood smoke, wafting from the trees nearby, was strong here.
“Hello?” Vixa called. “Anyone here?”
A tall figure emerged from the trees. Upswept ears marked him as elven, as did his long blond hair, drawn back in a queue. He shaded his eyes and saw Vixa and Gundabyr.
“Kenthrin!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Dannagel! Come here!”
Two more elves appeared out of the woods. They were definitely Silvanesti as well. All three had the fair skin, pale hair, and sharp features of eastern elves. They were dressed in white, knee-length robes.
“What in the name of the immortal gods is that?” exclaimed one of the newcomers.
“I believe it’s a girl,” said the other. “Or didn’t you notice, Kenthrin?”
The first Silvanesti jogged down the gentle slope, his cloak flapping. “Were you shipwrecked?” he asked, skidding to a stop. “Are you all right?”
“Nope,” said Gundabyr, just as Vixa replied, “Yes.”
The elf looked puzzled, but Vixa said, “Do you have any water?”
The Silvanesti unslung a waterskin from his shoulder and handed it over. Vixa drank deeply, then passed the skin to the dwarf.
The other two elves joined them. The one with the impudent eyes-Dannagel-smilingly appraised Vixa’s skimpy attire. Vixa’s face, reddened by the time she’d spent lying unconscious on the beach, took on an even deeper hue. The first elf frowned at his companion and unhooked his own red-bordered cloak. He draped this around Vixa’s shoulders.
“I am Samcadaris, son of Palindar,” he said. “These are my friends, Kenthrin and Dannagel.”
“Vixa Ambrodel.”
“Gundabyr, forgemaster of the clan-”
Dannagel broke in, saying, “Ambrodel? Did you say Ambrodel?” Vixa, in the midst of another drink, nodded. “Of the line of Tamanier Ambrodel?”
She swallowed the cool water. “He was my grandfather.”
“She’s Qualinesti!” Dannagel declared, surprise in every syllable.
“Just call me Gundabyr. Everyone does,” said the dwarf, irked at being ignored.
“It doesn’t matter who or what they are,” Samcadaris stated. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
“That we are,” Gundabyr said fervently.
“I am the daughter of Kemian Ambrodel and Verhanna Kanan,” Vixa explained. “Master Gundabyr and I were on separate sea voyages when we were captured and held prisoner.”
The three Silvanesti waited. “Captured by whom?” prompted Kenthrin.
“The Dargonesti.”
The three elves exchanged bewildered looks. “The who?” said Samcadaris.
“The race of elves who live at the bottom of the ocean.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then Dannagel burst out laughing. “She’s mad! Daughter of the commander of the Qualinesti army indeed! Elves living in the ocean? Throw her back, my friends. She’s crazy.”
Kenthrin’s expression was more compassionate, but his words were not. “The Dargonesti are just an old legend. Tell us really, how came you here?”
“Listen to me,” Vixa pleaded. “I am of the royal house of Qualinost. If you help me, I’ll see that you are handsomely rewarded.”
“Gold is not required,” Samcadaris said firmly. “Contrary to appearances, we are not simple fishers. We are members of House Protector, and serve in the household guard of the Speaker of the Stars.”
“Then you must take me to Silvanost! I have urgent news for the Speaker!”
“What could you possibly have to say that would interest His Majesty?” Kenthrin asked.
“News of an impending attack! The Dargonesti mean to make war on you!”
Her pronouncement fell flat. Dannagel and Kenthrin were openly skeptical. Samcadaris gave no opinion, but told her and Gundabyr to come to their campsite. There, in the woods above the beach, the Silvanesti were smoking some of their catch over a hardwood fire. Samcadaris offered them a breakfast of fish.
Gundabyr paled. “None for me! I’ve been living on fish forever! Anything but that!”
Seated on logs around the small, smoky fire, Vixa and Gundabyr recounted their story. The Qualinesti princess held nothing back. She described the war with the chilkit, the invention of gnomefire, and the murder of Colonel Armantaro after Coryphene had promised to release his captives.
“So you’re saying you swam here in three days, in the form of a dolphin with the dwarf riding on your back?” Samcadaris tried not to sound incredulous.
“That’s right.”
“And ten thousand water-breathing elves equipped with firepots that burn under water are coming to conquer Silvanost?”
Vixa bit her lip. “Yes,” she said weakly. Put that way, it sounded foolish to her, too. She stared miserably into the fire.
“I will take you to Thonbec,” Samcadaris announced, surprising his companions as well as the Qualinesti princess. “The commander of the garrison there can decide whether the Speaker need be troubled with this fantastic tale.” His two friends objected, but he added, “Let Axarandes judge the truth or falsity of their story. Can we afford to ignore any hint of invasion? Let General Axarandes decide, I say.”