The Druidhome Trilogy 02 - The Coral Kingdom by Forgotten Realms

Author:Forgotten Realms [Forgotten Realms]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-01-08T16:33:43+00:00

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"How often do they come to you?" inquired Tristan, after Marqillor had regained his strength from the dousing of water. The merman's skin glowed, his eyes shone, and his voice came forth with a vigor that had not been there minutes earlier.

"Not often." The merman shrugged. "Perhaps every three days, though of course it's hard to tell down here."

"Recently?"

"No. That's why you found me in such bad shape. I'd suspect it won't be long now."

"How many at a time?"

"Just one." Marqillor's eyes flashed as he began to understand Tristan's point. "A big scrag. He comes out of the water and taunts me for a bit, kicks me and the like. Then he throws the water over me so I'll stay alive until the next time."

Tristan looked around, seeking something—anything—that he could use as a weapon. He had heard of the sea trolls, of course, and now he felt reasonably certain that the beast that had brought him his food was one as well. He had battled enough trolls in his life to identify the scrag as an aquatic cousin of that obscene race.

The only thing he found was the large bucket of hammered copper he had used to throw the water over the merman. "I'd rather have a sword," he observed, ruefully examining the distressingly flimsy container. He was weighing the fact that he would have to bear it in his single hand.

Tristan turned his attention to the metal brackets holding Marqillor's hands. Despite the corrosive rinsings, the manacles remained gleaming and clean, displaying a high level of craftsmanship.

"It's no use," said the merman with another awkward shrug. "I've spent weeks tugging on them myself. The only way to get them off is with the key."

"Does that scrag carry the keys with him?"

"Yes—and a big knife, too." The merman's face creased into a slight smile. "He keeps the knife in the back of his belt, probably so that a prisoner doesn't try to grab it from him. Maybe that can work to your advantage."

At Marqillor's affirmation, the basics of their plan were set. Tristan took the bucket and crossed the cell, making himself as comfortable as possible in a shadowy niche beside the pool. He settled down for a long wait, yet strove to remain ready to scramble out at a moment's notice, trying not to let his mind dwell on the coming fight.

Still, images of horror and shock raced through his mind. Previously he had vanquished trolls while wearing metal armor, bearing a mighty sword, and more often than not, mounted on a stalwart charger, aided by resolute companions. The prospect of attacking one of the creatures unarmored and virtually bare-handed—one-handed, in point of fact!—struck him as rash to the point of insanity. Not insanity, he corrected himself—just brutal necessity.

Marqillor leaned back against the wall, trying to relax. Time passed with imperceptible speed. Tristan struggled to remain alert, holding the bucket, watching the water, silent but ready to spring forward.

The scrag came out of the

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