Darkness closed over him, fell down on him like the nets the gibbering monkkers of the Labyrinth use to snare the unwary. The faint glow of his sigla disappeared. He knew himself to be completely helpless, completely at the mercy of whatever was in here. He stumbled about in a blind panic, fighting to free himself. The ax slid from his sweat-damp hand.
Two eyes, slits of red-green flame, slowly opened. The darkness took shape and form around the eyes, and Haplo was aware of a gigantic serpentine head. He was aware, too, of a ripple in the darkness, a shimmer of doubt, astonishment.
“A Patryn?” The voice was soft, sibilant.
“Yes,” Haplo answered, tense, wary. “I am a Patryn. What are you?” The eyes closed. The darkness returned, strong, intense, guarding. Haplo stretched out a groping hand, hoping to find the steering mechanism. His fingers brushed against cold, scaly flesh. A viscous liquid clung to his skin, chilled his blood, began to burn his skin. His stomach wrenched in revulsion. Shuddering, he tried to wipe the slime off on his trousers. The eyes opened again, their light eerie. The eyes were huge. It seemed he could have walked into the black, slit pupils without ducking.
“The Royal One bids me give you welcome and say to you, ‘The time is at hand. Your enemy is awake.’ ”
“I don’t know what you mean, what you’re talking about,” Haplo said warily. “What enemy?”
“The Royal One will explain everything if you will honor him with your presence. However, I am permitted to speak one word that may quicken your interest. I am to say, ‘Samah.’ ”
“Samah!” Haplo breathed. “Samah!”
He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. It didn’t make sense. He wanted to question the creature, but, suddenly, his heart began to pound. The blood rushed to his head, fire filled his brain. He took a step, staggered, and pitched forward onto his face to lie still and unmoving.
The green-red eyes glittered, slowly shut.
12
So now we’ve got this human, this Haplo. I want very much to trust him, and yet I don’t. Is it just the prejudice of a dwarf against any of another race?
That might have been so, back in the old days. But I would trust Alake with my life, the same with Devon. Unfortunately, my life appears to be not in their care, but in Haplo’s.
It will be a relief to write down how I really feel about him. I can’t say a word against him to Alake, who has fallen for this man deeper than a dwarf in his ale mug. As for Devon ... he was suspicious of him at the beginning, but after what happened with the dragon-snakes . . . well, you might have thought an elven warrior of ancient days had come to call him to arms. Alake says that I am only chewing sour grapes because Haplo made me see that we acted like fools, running off to give ourselves to be sacrificed. But we dwarves are naturally skeptical and suspicious of strangers. We tend not to trust anyone until we get to know them several hundred cycles. This Haplo has yet to say anything about where he comes from and who he is, and, beyond that, he’s made one or two extremely curious statements and has behaved most peculiarly in regard to the dragon-snakes.
I admit I was wrong about one thing—Haplo is obviously not a spy sent by the dragons. It is difficult to see inside the man. A shadow covers him and his words. He walks in a darkness of his own creation, using it, I would guess, for protection and defense. Yet, sometimes, despite himself, the clouds are rent by a flash of lightning, both frightening and illuminating. Such a flash came from Haplo when we told him about the dragon-snakes.
In fact, thinking back on his reaction, I begin to see that he went out of his way to convince us we should try to seize control of the ship and flee to safety. Which makes what happened later all the more strange. And I must give credit where it is due. Haplo is the bravest man I’ve ever met. I know of no dwarf, not even Hartmut, who could have walked down the dread corridor and into the steerage.
We kept behind, waiting for him, as he ordered.
“We should go with him,” Devon said.
“Yes,” agreed Alake faintly, but I noticed that neither of them moved a muscle. “I wish we had some no-fear weed. Then we wouldn’t be afraid.”
“Well, we don’t. Whatever it is,” I whispered. “As for wishes, I wish I was back home!”
Devon was that faint color of blue-green elves turn when they’re sick or afraid. Sweat glistened on Alake’s black skin, and she shivered like a leaf. I’m not ashamed to say that my shoes were as good as nailed to the deck. Otherwise I would have done the sensible thing and run for dear life. We watched Haplo enter the steerage. Blackness covered him, swallowed him up whole. Alake gave a little cry and hid her face in her hands. Then we heard voices . . . Haplo’s voice talking and another answering.
“At least nothing’s killed him yet,” I muttered.
Alake perked up, lifted her head. We all strained to hear what was being said. The words were gibberish. We looked at each other questioningly. None of us understood.
“It’s that same language he talked when he was out of his head,” I whispered.
“And whatever’s in there understands it!”
Which was something I didn’t like one bit, as I was just about to say, when Haplo suddenly gave a great cry that stopped my breathing. And then Alake gave a cry as if someone had torn out her heart. She darted down the passage, heading straight for the steerage!
Devon ran after Alake, leaving me to reflect on the brainless natures of elves and humans (and dwarves). I had no choice, of course, but to run after them. I arrived in the steerage to find Alake bent over Haplo, who was lying unconscious on the deck. Devon, with more presence of mind than I would have given an elf, had picked up the battle ax and was standing over the two protectively.
I looked quickly about the steerage. It was darker than the inside of our mountain and smelled awful. The stench made me gag. It was horribly cold, but the strange, paralyzing feeling of terror that had kept us out of here before was gone.
“Is he dead?” I asked.
“No!” Alake was stroking back his hair. “He’s fainted. He drove it away! Don’t you see, Grundle?”
I saw the love and admiration in her eyes and my heart sank.
“He fought it and drove it away! He’s saved us.”
“He did. He truly did!” Devon said, gazing down at Haplo in awe.
“Give me that!” I said grumpily, and snatched the ax away from the elf, “before you cut off something valuable and really turn yourself into a girl! And what do you mean, he drove it away? That scream of his didn’t sound like any battle cry to me.”
But, of course, neither Alake nor Devon was paying the slightest attention to me. Their concern was for their hero. And, I had to admit, whatever had been in the steerage seemed to be gone now. But had Haplo driven it away? Or had the two of them reached a friendly agreement?
“We can’t stay here,” I pointed out, propping the ax up in a corner, as far from the elf (and Haplo) as possible.
“No, you’re right,” Alake agreed, looking around with a shudder.
“We could make a litter out of blankets,” Devon suggested. Haplo opened his eyes, found Alake hanging over him, her hand on his head. I never saw anyone move so swiftly. His actions were a blur. He struck out at Alake, flung her away from him, and was on his feet, crouched, ready to spring.
Alake lay on the deck, staring at him in shock. None of us moved or said a word. I was almost as frightened as I’d been before.
Haplo glanced around, saw only us, and seemed to come to his senses. But he was furious.
“Don’t touch me!” he snarled in a voice colder and darker than the darkness in the steerage. “Don’t ever touch me!”
Alake’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean any harm. I feared you were hurt . . .”