Kerrick had misgivings but decided not to argue. After all, the gnome’s mission-gaining fuel for his arcane boilers-was important to the submersible, and the submersible represented their only chance to escape from Dracoheim.
“All right,” the elf said. “Let’s get going.”
With a boost from Randall the gnome made it to the hatch, turned the release valve, and pushed it open. Squirming upward, he vanished from sight. Divid went next, followed by Randall, Strongwind, Moreen, and Kerrick, each scrambling up onto the slick, round hull. After the elf pushed the hatch shut, he heard Terac cranking the valve behind him.
Outside of the Whalefish, the sky seemed impossibly bright. The submersible rested in relatively shallow water, but they still had a way to go before reaching dry land.
“No time for delay-let’s go!” said Moreen, the first of the companions to slide down the curved hull into the sea.
A moment later Pneumo, buoyed by his many pouches, which served as floats, was splashing around in the surf, while the four survivors from Cutter swam toward shore, nervously scanning the dark island for signs of ogres. The elf, the strongest swimmer, kept one arm around Divid, dragging the gully dwarf along with him. Divid kicked and squirmed but couldn’t break Kerrick’s grip.
Finally the elf’s feet scuffed against the rocky beach. Divid peeled away, springing out of the water with surprisingly good balance as, crawling and sputtering, Kerrick pulled himself out of the surf. He saw that Moreen and Randall were emerging to his right, while Strongwind-his sword at the ready-strode out of the water to the left.
“Where’s Captain Pneumo?” Kerrick asked, turned to scrutinize the breakers.
The next big wave trundled in, and the elf spotted the gnome, tumbling in the shallows. Kerrick grabbed the coughing captain by the scruff of his neck and pulled him to his feet, then helped him stumble forward until all six of the companions stood next to each other on the shore.
The black beach consisted of fine sand interspersed with small rocks. In places patches of lighter material swirled through delicate spirals, but the overall effect was of eerie darkness. It was near midnight, with the sun low in the south, hidden behind the heights surrounding this cove.
They made haste inland, jogging across a fringe of flat ground and into the mouth of one of the ravines leading upward. Crouching amid some large boulders that had tumbled to the base of the draw, they made their final plans.
“Which way from here?” Kerrick asked Captain Pneumo.
“To the top of this bluff, for starters,” the gnome explained. “The village where I get my gold is just on the other side of the pass. I’ll head there, fill my pouches, and be back here before the sun makes a full circle. Don’t worry-I’ll wait for you, even if it takes you more time.
“You’ll be able to see the castle from up there,” Pneumo continued. “There’s lots of broken ground-you should be able to get close without being spotted. It will be up to Divid to show you the way into the castle.”
“If we are spotted, Strongwind and I will lead the ogres on a merry chase, while you and Randall and Divid stay hidden,” Moreen said firmly. She pointed a finger in Kerrick’s face. “You have the most important job. Somehow you have to find this Alchemist and stop him. We’ll do everything we can to see that you succeed.”
The elf and Randall nodded solemnly.
“Anyway, we all have to make this climb, so let’s get going,” suggested Strongwind Whalebone. “We should hurry away from here, in case anyone noticed us coming ashore.”
With Randall in the lead, they began to climb. The dirt in the ravine was soft, black in color but grainy like sand, prone to cascading down on them they tried to scramble up. It caught in their fingernails, scuffed and abraded their hands and knees. Once Divid tumbled backward, thumping into the elf’s chest, and the two of them slid down for twenty or thirty feet before Kerrick could arrest their fall.
An hour later the berserker was the first to reach the crest. He turned to assist Moreen and Pneumo. Strong-wind, the gully dwarf, and Kerrick came last, arriving at a rocky plateau. A lofty castle, spiderwebs of arched bridges connecting slender, tall towers, rose from a knoll a few miles away. Commanding a view in all directions, the place was dark and forbidding. The elf turned to Moreen, ready to express his apprehension, and saw that she was looking off in the other direction.
“I think I see trouble,” she said in a low voice.
“You’re right,” Randall said cheerfully as he followed her gaze. Four large figures, each armed with a sword and a spear, were jogging toward them along the top of the bluff.
“Looks like a welcoming party,” the elf said grimly.
“The orb is nearly complete,” declared the Dowager Queen, looking down her nose at her son as though she expected him to quibble. “My guards tell me that the Alchemist needs only to seal the two halves with a bead of gold.”
“Good,” Grimwar snapped. “We can get out of this place and get on with the business of destroying Brackenrock. We leave today, and we take the orb with us!”
His mother and his wife glanced at each other in the fire-warmed study high within the fortress of Dracoheim. The king didn’t notice. He was standing at the window, gazing at the pale shimmering sun. More than two months of constant daylight had already passed this summer. It would be at only three more weeks, he knew, before the golden sun vanished for the duration of the year. His attention was sharply drawn back to the room by Stariz.
“Your mother has decided to return to Winterheim with us,” she announced.
The king wheeled in surprise, and after a moment he remembered his manners, forcing a smile.
“That is splendid news, indeed,” he said, with a dignified nod of his head. “I am glad you have decided to be more… flexible.”
Hanna snorted and glared at him, a look that he wished he could decipher. He flushed under the feeling that his mother could see right into his soul, could discern all of the emotions mingling there, emotions that right now centered around another ogress, far away from here.
“I am not pleased,” said the Dowager Queen-apparently she was reading his mind! — “that you have chosen to ignore my wishes in the matter of the harlot Thraid Dimmarkull. You know that she humiliated me and made your father behave like a fool!”
Grimwar drew himself up to his full, eight-foot-plus height. “I am the king now, and she has done nothing to me to call reproach down upon herself. I repeat: I shall not have her punished simply to soothe your need for vengeance.”
“I know this,” Hanna said sternly, “and yet I have decided to return in spite of your stubbornness. Your wife has convinced me that it is the gracious thing to do. I trust you will see that my dignity is not affronted.”
“Ahem. You will be welcomed in Winterheim as the Dowager Queen, of course. You shall have your choice of apartments in the Royal Quarter and will he treated with honor wherever you go in the city. These are my commands, and you know that I have long sought your return.” He crossed the room and took his mother’s hands. He looked her in the eyes and was able to speak sincerely. “I’m glad you are coming home, Mother. Truly.”
The elder ogress’s expression softened, and he felt a glimmer of affection, affection such as he had not known for decades. He searched for something else to say, but before any words came to him an alarm horn brayed through the halls.
Moments later there came a knock at the door, and Stariz yanked it open to reveal a breathless ogre dressed in the gold and scarlet of the royal guard.
“What is it?” barked the queen.
“Intruders, Your Majesties! Six of them landed on the northern shore of the island!”
“A sailboat! Was it a sailboat that brought them?” demanded the king.
“No, sire. Rather, the watchman said it was as though they rose out of the water, walked on waves at first, then came swimming ashore.”
“Bah,” declared Grimwar, waving his hand. “The watchman is an idiot! Such tales! They must have come by boat!”
“Surely,” Stariz agreed with the king, rather surprising him. “But where are they right now?”
“We… er, one of the wretches slipped away,” the guard stammered. “He was nothing-a gully dwarf it looked like, though his beard was a bit long. He headed west. The others are headed this way, toward the castle.”
