The tunnel, he decided, though the explanation did not suit him. It is all this earth around us. Tunnels were for dwarves, assuming any still existed, not elves. Elves enjoyed sunshine, trees, and-
“Water!” Rayke snarled, turning the word into an epithet. He had good reason to do so, Faunon thought as he, too, gazed at the sight before them.
The passage dipped farther down… but the rest of it was submerged beneath a vast pool of water as inky as a moonless, starless night. It almost looked as if someone had purposely filled the tunnel up at this point.
“That ends it, Faunon.” The other elf started to turn.
“Wait.” Faunon was all for departing as well, but he wanted to get a closer look at the pool. With the crystal before him, he stalked over to the edge and knelt. His face and form were reflected back at him, ghoulish parodies of the original. Even this close, he could see nothing beneath the surface. Faunon was tempted to drop the glow-crystal into the pool and watch its descent, but the unreasonable fear that he would disturb something best left not disturbed made him pause.
“You will not see anything! I can tell that from here. Why do you not just-”
Sleek, leathery hands rose from the pool and clawed at Faunon’s throat.
“Get back!” Rayke rushed forward, his blade extended toward the water.
Faunon lost his grip on the glow-crystal and it plummeted through the water, momentarily illuminating the world beneath. He saw, for an instant, his attacker, a broad-jawed, amphibious creature built along the lines of an elf. It had round, almost froglike eyes and webbed hands and feet. Without thinking, he thrust with his sword at the water dweller and had some slight satisfaction when the blade bit into one of the creature’s arms.
A second blade passed by Faunon’s right. The point of Rayke’s sword skewered the monstrosity through the neck. It let out a bubbling gasp and shuddered. By now, the crystal was far below. Faunon’s attacker became little more than a stirring in the black depths of the pool. Occasionally, the ever-receding speck that was the gem was briefly covered by some part of the thrashing creature’s limbs.
At last, the surface of the pool grew still. The body of the would-be attacker did not float to the top, yet another odd thing. The glow-crystal had sunk out of sight, revealing the incredible depth of the tunnel.
“Quel tunnel, definitely,” Faunon said, rubbing his neck and thinking about the claws that had almost torn his throat. “But that was a Draka. They serve the birds.”
Rayke cleaned the tip of his blade off. “Draka are not generally so blood-thirsty… and they are usually cowards more often than not. That one wanted to tear you apart.”
Again, Faunon felt as if something was nearby. He knew better than to try to concentrate on identifying it. Better to leave now, before it grew too interested in them. The other elf apparently did not feel whatever it was he did, so perhaps, Faunon hoped, it was just a touch of paranoia or exhaustion.
“Can we go now?”
He nodded to Rayke and stood. A quick wipe cleaned his own blade well enough for now; he would do a more thorough job on it when they were away from here.
“Where to next?” his companion asked as they abandoned the submerged passage.
“South.”
“South?” Rayke looked at him wide-eyed.
“That is the direction you want to go, is it not?”
“South. Yes, but I thought you…”
Faunon took the one last glance back at the pool just before their trek took them around the curve and blocked his view. He thought he saw bubbling at the surface, but he had no desire to go back and investigate further.
“I changed my mind. I think I would like to go home.”
The other elf did not press further, which, to Faunon, was a good thing indeed. It meant he would not have to try to explain a growing fear that had no basis other than a simple, nagging sensation in the back of his mind… a sensation that he somehow sensed was, like the fearsome stallion, only a precursor for things to come.
VI
As much as she disliked having to tear herself away from Darkhorse, there finally came a point when Sharissa had to return to some of her other duties. She had come to realize that the very night after her unsatisfying visit to Gerrod when, returning to her domicile, the sorceress found petitioners. Their grievances were petty, as far as she could recall, but it had been her idea to take on some of her father’s lesser roles in order that he might deal with more important projects. In time, Sharissa hoped to convince him that it would be good if he took on subordinates. Unlike his counterparts, Dru tried to do everything for fear that, if he did not, the balance of power would shift too far to one side. It had almost been impossible to make him give her this much. Not that she had not had enough to do without taking some of his work in addition to her own roles.
Like father like daughter? she thought wryly.
The petitioners were dealt with accordingly, but Sharissa soon rediscovered her other projects. One of the few Vraad who worked with her brought up the subject of the system of subterranean chambers existing beneath the city. In some places, the surface level was proving treacherous, for time had weakened the earth here and there and one person had already died when the floor beneath him gave way and he fell to his death. At some point, Sharissa had started organizing a mapping campaign that would seek out the weak areas. It now became evident that those involved had no idea what they were doing when she was not there to supervise them. How, she wondered, had her kind ever survived the crossover? Sometimes the sorceress was amazed that they could even feed themselves.
Darkhorse was gone when she looked for him. The next day, she found he had returned to Sirvak Dragoth, but not before shocking several inhabitants by racing about the city perimeter in the dead of night.
“You can’t do that,” Sharissa scolded, pacing the length of the chamber where she did her research. It was part of an oval building that had once contained a library, although all the books had crumbled with time. The young Zeree was starting to fill the shelves with notebooks of her own, however, and, with the aid of others, hoped to one day gather a collection as vast as the multitude of mantels indicated the collection of the founders had been. She had once feared that Darkhorse would not be able to maneuver himself through the narrow, winding halls, but Sharissa had forgotten that he only resembled a horse. Watching him shift and shape himself accordingly had been a novel if stomach-wrenching experience. “Do you want to undermine what we’ve accomplished? If you go scaring folk needlessly, they’ll fear you all the more! Have you any idea of the image you project?”
The massive, pitch-black steed laughed. His chilling orbs were all aglitter as he voiced his amusement. “A fearsome one, indeed! One fellow dropped to his knees and pledged his loyalty to friend Dru… and all I did was wink at him as I passed! Nothing more!”
“Do you want them to fear my father?”
He sobered. “It is not Dru that they fear; it is me!”
“And you represent him.”
“I-” The sight of so menacing a creature suddenly struck still by understanding almost made the sorceress forget her annoyance with him. The feeling did not last long, however.
“You have much to learn about the pettiness and suspicious nature of the Vraad, Darkhorse.”
He was slow in replying, but what he said surprised her at that moment, though, in retrospect, she would realize that she had seen it coming. “I do not care for the ways of the Vraad very much. They are not like Dru or you. They curse me behind my back, thinking I have ears as weak and foolish as theirs, and call me monster! They do not try to understand me, while I have willingly struggled to comprehend all things around me! Nothing I do lessens their fear and distrust! I have acted in all ways I can think of, yet they care no more for me than when I first appeared in the square!”