Taking advantage of the moment, Pacys swam to the bottom and stood on the rocky shelf. He took his staff from his back and flicked the razor-sharp blades out. He glanced at the parent fish, seeing that it had turned to face him. His heart was torn over Khlinat's fate.

One of the fish found its way around the invisible shield.

Pacys swept, the staff around and neatly sliced the fish's head off. The pieces floated in separate directions for a moment, then were seized by its brethren.

Blood streaming from the giant fish drew the old bard's attention for a moment. Crimson mist poured from the creature's gill slits and it moved as though in agony. Pacys whirled the staff again and gutted another one of the fish. Shifting, he spotted movement in the distance, recognizing it as sea elves riding giant seahorses. They sat crouched down over their undersea mounts, barely skimming above the kelp and seaweed lining the ocean floor.

The next fish through the shield evaded the old bard's staff and sank its teeth into the flesh just below bis ribs. He groaned in pain and elbowed the fish away, but it was on him again, tearing savagely, before he could take a full step.

The old bard drew a knife and drove it through the fish's head, through the gaping jaws and stilling the biting teeth. Though the tiny brain refused to accept the idea of death, it could no longer tear at him. It bumped him, rubbing its rough scales over his side, enveloped in the blood clouding the water.

More crimson suddenly spilled from the giant fish that had belched its offspring to the attack. Its jaws widened again, revealing Khlinat striking at the creature's upper mouth with both hand axes. Chunks of bloody flesh floated out of its mouth.

"Khlinat!" Pacys cried. "Get away from that thing, that I might aid you."

Spinning, the dwarf looked for Pacys and found him. Almost reluctantly, as if he had his terrible foe exactly where he wanted it, Khlinat swam from the creature's mouth in the ungainly dog paddle he'd managed over the last few days around Faenasuor.

Pacys dug his hand into the small meal pouch he'd taken from the sea elf city after deciding to spend the afternoon getting to know the sacedder better. One of the tidbits the elven chef had foisted upon him was octopus tentacle. It had been good, but the woman had been overgenerous with her portions, and there was some left.

The old bard pinched a portion off, said another command word, gestured, and pointed at the giant fish only twenty-five yards away. The octopus tentacle chunk disappeared from his hand, consumed by the spell.

Instantly, a mass of black tentacles formed under and around the giant fish. Over ten feet in length, the tentacles coiled in exploration, finding the giant fish almost at once. They ensnared and wrapped the fish, constricting around the creature and pulling it to within reach of still other tentacles.

One of the tentacles snaked out and wrapped around Khlinat's good leg. Reacting quickly, the dwarf swung both hand axes repeatedly, finally cutting through the rubbery flesh and severing the tentacle. He swam toward Pacys. Overcome by his wounds and the effort of easting the spells, the bard watched helplessly as the magic shield ceased its shimmering and went away. The remaining three fish swam for him eagerly, their jaws open wide in expectation.

Pacys covered up as best as he could, protecting his throat, face, and eyes with his arms. The fish went for the soft tissues of his stomach and under his arms. The old bard tried to knock them away with his elbows, but he'd run out of spells he could easily cast, and the staff didn't give him the room or time to use it that he needed to protect his face and throat.

In the next moment, Khlinat was there, roaring great dwarven curses and calling on his god. Pacys felt the shudder of the hand axes cleaving flesh through the connection he had with two of the fish that'd sunk their teeth into him.

The dwarven warrior threw his arms around Pacys protectively, holding the old bard up. "Speak to me, songsmith! Don't ye dare be dying on me shift. Not while ol' Khlinat's got his eyes peeled and made ye the promise I did!"

Pacys opened his eyes, fighting the exhaustion and pain that threatened to consume him. "I still live, my friend. You've not gone back on your promise yet."

"And I won't either," the dwarf declared fiercely. "Ye will see I'm a man of me word." Blood seeped from wounds on his body as well, mixing with the bard's in the salty water.

Taareen arrived foremost among the elves mounted on seahorses. He flung himself off the creature and swam toward Pacys.

"Taleweaver!" the sea elf cried, eeling toward him in the particular undulation the sea elves used for cutting rapidly through the water.

"I'm here," Pacys said.

Taareen surveyed him, taking in the damage done with a grimace.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Pacys said, though he felt that it was.

"We should have had guards over you," Taareen said. "We knew how important you were, and that the Taker would strike at you if he could. Now that he's found you here, we're going to have to move you somewhere else."

The other elves mounted on seahorses rode around the giant fish struggling against the black tentacles Pacys had summoned. They fired repeated crossbow bolts into the giant fish, taking care to stay well away from the reach of the tentacles.

"What makes you so sure the Taker has found me?" Pacys asked.

"The ascallion isn't a normal Shallows or Gloom predator," Taareen said, pointed at the creature that had attacked the bard. "Usually that monster is only found in the Twilight depths."

Pacys knew from his understanding of the stratification of Seros' depths that the Twilight was the depth between three hundred to six hundred feet. "Maybe it found its way up here by mistake."

The black tentacles disappeared in the next moment as the magic sustaining them became exhausted. The ascallion tried only a feeble escape. More than a dozen quarrels stuck out of its face, and more were shot into it as the old bard watched.

Taareen shook his head. "There's no mistake. The Taker found a way to send that creature here, and we're lucky that you escaped with your life. By the Dolphin Prince, the things we would have lost had we lost you."

XXIII

26 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet

Laaqueel stood on the deck of the royal flier as it glided through the ocean, powered by sahuagin rowers. She'd never traveled on one of the craft for long distances before, and never at all until Iakhovas had become baron.

She felt proud as she watched the four hundred rowers working in rapid tandem, pulling the sahuagin craft through the underbelly of the ocean at a normal pace that more than doubled anything a surface vessel could do, even with rowers and a favorable wind. A two hundred forty-mile day was a normal average for the fliers. The other two hundred sahuagin that made up the rest of the crew rotated in, taking a shift at the oars as well while spelling another team.

Laaqueel scanned the deep blue of the ocean around them, looking back at all the fliers that followed. Though she couldn't see them all because even her eyes couldn't penetrate the gloom, she knew there were more than two dozen in all.

Satisfied that there was nothing she could do to make the journey more safe, she tried not to think about the possible dangers waiting at the Lake of Steam, where Iakhovas had said they were headed. With a final prayer offered up to Sekolah, she turned and walked the length of the flier to the cabin Iakhovas had ordered constructed in the stern as his personal quarters. None of the other fliers had such a thing.

She stood before the door and raised her hand to rap on the door.