Queen of the Depths by Richard Lee Byers

Author:Richard Lee Byers
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, Priests, Revenge, Fantasy & Magic, General, Fantasy, American, Fantasy fiction, Women priests, Fiction, Forgotten realms (Imaginary place)
ISBN: 9780786937370
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast
Published: 2005-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

Like the rest of the Pirate Isles, Tan was in its essence a huge rock sticking up out of the sea, with some greenery on the lower slopes but little on the heights. But unlike Dragon Isle, it was volcanic, its flanks sculpted by ancient lava flows.

As Vurgrom had warned, Tu’ala’keth could see no sign of habitation beyond a few abandoned-looking cottages and shanties, and the beached, decaying husks of a couple of fishing boats. Yet the cove where the empty village rotted appeared to be the only safe or convenient place to land. Should she put in there?

No, she decided, definitely not. If the cultists were as jealous of their privacy as their reputation indicated, they might well have set a trap. It would be awkward if she had to fight her way clear, perhaps hurting or killing someone, before she even had a chance to explain her purpose.

She rummaged through her sea bag, found the pellet that would enable Anton to breathe underwater, and crouched down beside him. His face bruised, cut, and bloody from the thrashing she’d given him, he lay bound and gagged—and thus unable to conjure—in the bottom of the boat.

She pulled the cloth from his mouth and showed him the spherule. “Eat this,” she said.

“No,” he said. “Tu’ala’keth, don’t do this.”

“Refuse if you wish,” she said, “but you are going beneath the waves either way. I may still have a use for you, but I no longer need you, and it would please me to watch you drown.”

Glaring, he opened his mouth, and she gave him the pellet. After he chewed and swallowed, she replaced the gag.

She had no further use for the sailboat, so didn’t bother lowering the sail, dropping anchor, or otherwise securing it. Let the sea have it for a toy, to toss about and finally sink or shatter. She bound Anton and her other possessions to the seahorses, who disliked it but suffered it at her behest. Then they swam for shore.

As when approaching Dragon Isle, she and her unwilling companion parted company with the mounts in the shallows and waded onward. They had to clamber over a jumble of rocks, with waves crashing to spray all around them and an undertow dragging them backward, to exit the water. She’d loaded Anton with the baggage. Denied the use of his hands, he couldn’t manage by himself. She grabbed his forearm and heaved him up, then waited for him to retch the water from his lungs. With the gag in place, it mostly came out his nose.

“I intend,” she said, “to circle around and approach the village from higher up the slope. You will move quietly, or I will kill you.”

He jerked his chin at one of the sea bags she’d tied to him then gave her a sardonic look. She understood:

His bonds and burdens were scarcely conducive to stealth.

“You must do the best you can.” She jerked the length of rope she’d knotted around his neck. “Onward.”

Once they climbed

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