"I have always missed to know of this place; and my instructor also," Durlyle said. The Burning Earth was enough light for us in our journey into the long black-stoned cave. "Perhaps none have come since our forerunners. The beasts have left no trace here," he said, looking about in wonder. The passageway was short enough that he had to bend down to walk through; the sword shed light on veins in the rock that glittered with bright quartz coloured green and gold and white, of swirling patterns that seemed the more mystical in the flicker of the flame blade. Above our heads the rock seemed solid enough, and the path clear to walk along. There was an unnatural sort of effect about its concealment upon the beach, as if it had been enchanted. But there were no signs inside here of previous inhabitation. But perhaps, in fact, it had once been used by those people of far long ago... I felt my heart beat faster even as we hastened along to outpace the tides. It was entirely dry where we had reached now, so if worst came to worst we certainly wouldn't drown; but our friends would be worried.
The way widened into a clear cave, the roof high enough for him to stretch and stand properly again. The rocks were rough below our feet, and a glistening stream of fresh water ran past us. Durlyle knelt down and scooped a palmful of it, sniffing at it; pure, he pronounced. The stream led us still further, and he breathed in the air.
"I smell some freshness," he said, "the cavern must lead back above ground! So we may continue. I think it must come out somewhere near the ship of Balduran, where of course only beasts knew in the past."
"Then we have to find it, don't we?" I said, and we shared grins of excitement. Onwards to follow the stream, shining silver from the light-coloured rocks in its bed. Long stalactites hung from the ceiling, in beautiful rock formations like a cathedral. We lingered simply to stare at what surely very few had seen in a long time. And we were near each other, trying to talk easily; it helped to be carried away by these new sights opening before us, young Ajantis seemingly quite cheery to be in the dark.
Then Durlyle lost his footing, slipping and landing on his back; and after I helped him and little Ajantis up, we saw that he had fallen upon a block of petrified wood. A block of old wood, neatly carved and sawed. We looked at each other in the flicker of the sword's fire, and I saw exactly in his brown eyes what we felt. There wasn't even a thought that we might be rushing into long-ago dangers and traps set, only that we had found signs of something living here. Our steps became faster, with no thought of anything but seeking what more there was to be discovered.
And then, not far from where the stream seemed to bubble once more underground from the hidden spring that birthed it, was a village.
There had been some sort of earthquake in the distant past, it was plain. The passage was narrow; there was a small amount of light that did not come from the Burning Earth, so it was plain that we had come close to the surface once more. Rocks lay over and buried structures that might once have been lived-in; it was a small cave after all, and the only thing in it was a hutlike building made of a similar type of wood to the fragment found. All else was destroyed and in only more fragments that lay like the rocks.
"The beasts did not build; we did not build," Durlyle said in wonder. "Can you see in your mind what it once was?" My eyes conjured visions of tall towers where rocks now blocked sight, of a hundred strangely-built dwellings like the slightly odd hut in front of us. Perhaps once this was above-ground and saw the sky, before the earth had moved; perhaps once as many people lived as the island could sustain. Or more likely fewer, but imagination has no proper boundaries. The geometrical angles of the hut that we could see seemed not quite exact, not quite of the right proportions that suited the eye and crafted a structure that would stand; skewed by the earthquake, perhaps. We must have a proper look at what lay within this remnant, and with Durlyle I went easily forward to the last survivor of the far-old village that even Balduran had never had a chance to discover.
A voice; and I know that I screamed in simple shock. I thought it a ghost. But it was querulous, and old, and somewhat unhinged:
"You're not figments, are you? You're not figments! I'm not wasting any more time talking to figments! Stop that infernal screeching, you infernal female! Figments! Bad doggies! Bad doggies... BAD DOGGIES CHEW YOUR TOENAILS OFF! Back! Heel! Down! Stay back!"
The door of his hut slammed open behind him with the sound of creaking hinges, and he stood on his front step. He was mortal and enfleshed, plainly. He was an elf by his pointed ears; his hair was long and fair, growing to halfway down his back. An old and tattered mage's robe covered the ragged clothing he wore below it. He glared, folding his arms, as if we were trespassers. That thought of normalcy compelled me to speak to him.
"Who are you...and how long have you been here?" I said, and took a cautious step forward.
He waved his hands again: "No! Only... No, wait! Bad doggie! Only you!" he said, pointing to me. "Not you!" Durlyle stood still; the elf seemed harmless so far, and it was good to try to keep him calm. "You! You're not a figment! You have the look of...a human! A mainland human! Selune's Blade! You're human and you've come at last!"
"That's right," I said, trying to humour him. His Common was antiquated; but not that antiquated. About the time of Balduran, I thought, and that made me suspicious. I tried to imitate his accent. "I'm not a figment at all. I come from the Sword Coast."
"—Whereabouts on the Sword Coast! Oh, goodness, goodness, Selune-the-moon-above; I may be saved at last—"
"Baldur's Gate, founded by Balduran," I said. "And when—and with whom—did you come here?"
The elf's mouth worked upon itself, and I realised that he was trying to smile. "Well, well! Come in for some of nice belladonna tea and please don't mind the subsequent painful diarrhoea. I make a lovely Amnish Dragoon soup without any dragoons in it, and lots of monkey balls and seabird-egg-and-fungus bun-cakes galore! Come to sample Dradeel of Tethir's recipes and ruminations and rudimentaries and supplementaries galore! Only you, though. That pair stay out!"
"I would not harm you, stranger," Durlyle said. But the elf seemed very disturbed in his mind—as anyone would be, stranded alone, I supposed—and paid him no attention.
"I cannot come if you will not have my friend," I said, "but I would like to help you. When did you come here?" I repeated.
"Oh, noble and all-too-mortal Balduran and the Wandering Eye," Dradeel explained. "You know it, yes? We set out from Anchorome in good weather; half of our brethren dead, but he was ever the successful adventurer. A new crew taken on; a landing party upon the time that I navigated here. Yes. I navigated!" he claimed. "I am Dradeel, Balduran's guide and navigator and mage, now recent convert to the church of Selune! Have you never heard of me within your city founded by him?"
Dradeel, Balduran's moon-elven navigator; I had. "Yes," I said, "yes, I've heard of you and your talents." That the elf, still alive now, had lived in that time—Viconia had too, I supposed, down in the Underdark. But thinking of it, that he had known the history I had sought... I stopped, amazed.
He seemed to relax slightly, and continued onward with his speech.
"We came to this isle only for fresh water," he continued. "We had a landing party. But they changed. They all changed, then." The wolfweres, I thought. "So sudden! Galan died first, his thorat torn open by one of the changed men. I couldn't tell who killed him, of course, since they were unrecognisable in their changed forms. I reached for the wand that I carried in my robes, but the abominations moved too quickly. Ten sailors in my party and seven were lycanthropes. There was no chance! Two leaped at me even while the others feasted on the bodies of the other sailors. Lightning from my wand killed one—and I know no more from that! The other wolf hit me with great force and I woke bloody before a tree. Stay back! No more bad doggie!"
Ajantis was only a baby, but Dradeel had every right to be terrified of the wolfweres. "Keep telling of how you came here," I said. "We'll do our best to get you back to the mainland."
"There was so much blood," Dradeel narrated; his eyes were unfocused as he drifted between his memories. "The lightning-struck body of the one I killed...it was over my friend Galan. He was torn to pieces. I still remember his arm, the strips of vein and muscle open to the sky. I retched at the sight. I did not have my spellbook and the wand was broken. It was only the Moonmaiden who spared me. One of my final spells remaining was invisibility. I cast, thinking that the monsters would smell only what they thought was a corpse. I crawled back to the beach, and in the side of the Eye was a vast hole as if some giant had punched through it, and the bodies of the crew gutted and hung from the rigging like a butcher's stock. Then I went further into these woods, and found the tunnel to this sunken hut under our Lady of Silver's light where all the remainder of the old town is disappeared; I used my final spell to hide and bar the way. I have lived on this freshwater stream and a peculiar sightless fish within its pools, and the bounty of the belladonna when it grows here. With Selune, I have some few spells and wards that protect me—I will cast all of them if you attack, bad doggie! Bad doggie!—and I have never left underground since I could not defend myself. Every so often the younger among the beasts dare to attack until they learn the lessons of those before them."
He kept losing control; considering what he had been through it was no surprise. "We have slain all the beasts on Balduran's ship," I said. "They will attack no more; come back to the village, and then come away with us on a new ship."
"—No," Dradeel said flatly. "No. I am defenceless, I tell you! If I cannot defend myself I will not come, and you know very well why! I am a pauper: all I possess is Selune's few gifts. And yet..." I saw in his face a crafty look; crafty as if he were a young child who thought himself to have a clever and cunning plan to trick sweets out of a grown-up. Unused to human interaction in so many centuries. "And yet...with my spell book—my dear young lady, so, er, attractive and not at all vaguely otter-like in the face and so very kind—would you bring me the spell book that must lie still within the ship? For with it I am a powerful mage, able to leave, able to cast spells—and the bad doggies can't get me then! Of course, it is impossible to destroy under its enchantment...so you must get it for me..."
Of course. Imoen had been studying it; she'd be more than willing to give it back to him. "We found it and I can easily get it," I promised. "Point us to the exit above; let us past your wards; and we'll return promptly. And perhaps we can talk more, too." I wanted to see inside that ancient hut; but of course I couldn't if he had a grudge against Durlyle and the child. Or... Viconia might be even older than him; but he had travelled with Balduran, and he was history alive. His nature struck home to me, watching that poor tattered figure and his jumpy stare and fragmented ideas.
"Only you come!" he said, pointing to me. "Only you! None other! Not him again!" Durlyle took no offence, though; it was a very sad case.
"Can I bring my other friend, then? I know she'd like to meet you, and she's a girl from the Sword Coast just like me. She's a transmuter mage and she's taking good care of your book," I explained slowly.
"No bad doggies! Very well, I suppose another mage. Tell her to bring the Weave, then; find the threads and pack them into a green-glass message-in-a-bottle on a ship. And hurry! After centuries, one's impatience grows! I would trust in you, my dear girl..."
I nodded. "We won't betray your trust." The passage behind the hut led upwards; we had to crawl some of the way, while the rocks gave way to earth; and then it opened to the blue sky and green grass of the forest, the masts of the Wandering Eye only just visible in the distance.
"You will do good thing for that castaway," Durlyle said. We walked quickly; it was past afternoon now. It would be long past night once we got there and back; but we had to do it, after all. Imoen could cast spells to see in the dark and the beasts were gone. I would like to see inside that hut, and what had been left there from Dradeel's precursors, I thought. Durlyle could see it too, once... Once we were all gone.
Imoen was wearing clothing from the village, a long white tunic that she had belted at the waist with a string of luminescent large pearls, brushing out her hair with a crude bone comb. Viconia was there by her while I explained.
"Could you tell Shar-Teel and Kaishas for us that we'll be back? It's not that we're ungrateful about the celebrations, but it would just be unkind to let the elf wait." Admittedly, mentioning a surface elf was not the surest way to enlist Viconia's sympathies. "Durlyle's coming part of the way with us too."
Viconia nodded and swore briefly at us foolish surfacers, as usual; and said that she herself would much rather rest than attend the insipid offerings of these primitive ones, for the island food disagreed with her and her stomach ached. But of course she could cure herself, she added of her abilities. Imoen brought out the spellbook.
"And I didn't get hardly any of the spells in it too," she complained, "but I s'pose it belongs to him, hopefully he won't get overexcited about a mage's spellbook is like his highly extremely very precious personal private property and all that." She fastened her own spellbook securely to her side; and also added the glittering sword of Balduran to just below her pearl belt. I was already armed just in case of some remaining wolfwere. She sighed, and brought together sea-salt and the roots of some plant. "'S not the proper ingredients, but I'm pretty sure I've got it working. Transmutation axis...make us fast...we'll be tired, but Vic and Faldy can fix it..."
We ran back through the woods at almost twice normal speed; she cast it again when it ended, and by the time we returned to Dradeel we were all panting badly. The sun was close to setting.
"Right...gottacatchmybreath..." Imoen leaned over against a tree, clutching her stomach. Durlyle sat down on the grass and closed his eyes.
"Over here...Imoen..." I pointed to the entrance to Dradeel's cave; we went down together.
"Gosh! Tyr's rippling biceps, this place isn't half bad," she said; she quickly conjured her pink magelight, looking up at the stalagmites overhead, the cavern and the rockfall and the remains of the houses once here. "What'd living in this for hundreds of years do to some ol' elven gullynapper?"
Dradeel coughed.
"Er...hello there, mister elf-mage!" Imoen waved cheerily. "Y' don't know me, but we're both professionals, right? Lady Imoen of Candlekeep, transmuter mage here to return your lost property, always really promptly and this time I didn't even take it."
Dradeel seemed to take kindly to the way she spoke; he let us come closer than Durlyle and I had before, taking a step toward us in the dark.
"Um, we really didn't know about you when we got the book back, you see," Imoen said, "so I was kinda looking at it, and you're obviously really, really clever and know a lot of spells... And I got the illusion that you call Moon's Blindness! Though my one question about that's just whether the moonlight's got to be visible for the people you're casting it on as well, because my elvish's not so good and I couldn't read it in the magic. And the cloth one I got right off because I saw it was transmutation, and it's really clever; d' you use a left turning or a right turning for the wind calling?"
Dradeel was nodding along as she approached him. "Left, young apprentice. Left and sinister for the Lady's mysterious gifts."
Imoen grinned happily. "Thanks! That helps. And about the conjuration on page one hundred and ninety-four, I know it's really, really difficult, but I can show you that I used it to get the small version going, you know, the simple way of opening a door in eyesight. But if'n you could show me the good version, I might not be strong enough to cast it yet but it would be really nice of you..."
"The...the good version. One hundred and ninety-four. My salvation! You must give it to me! Give it to me now!"
And Dradeel closed the distance between himself and Imoen in three long, quick strides; snatched the book to himself; turned a page and began to speak magic words; and vanished. Neither of us were given any time to react.
"It was teleport," Imoen said miserably, and turned to kick at a stray rock. "Talk about ingratitude! He could've at leastways offered to take us back with him! Even if we wouldn't 'cause they're still waiting for us back there, of course."
"Well, he seemed happy and you learned some new magic," I said. "I'm going to look into the hut...there's a clerical sort of trap on it, but I think we can get past..."
The wood was ancient and stonelike by its hardening. Dradeel had as his abandoned possessions a rough metal pot below a hand-constructed fire; drying fish laid out on a shelf of the original building and beginning to smell; a grass-plaited basket that held mushrooms, some sort of violently green fungus that I didn't think even Faldorn would try to eat as nature's bounty, and seabird eggs; and a short book laid by a seabird's quill dipped in ink that seemed to be made from black tar, The Recipes and Ruminations of One Dradeel of Tethir, spelt in that old fashion. I picked it up; as one of the belongings of one who had willingly sailed with Balduran—however pitiable he had later become—I did not think Durlyle would begrudge it. One recipe seemed to be for belladonna bun-cake; the next that offered his supposed cure for the wolfweres' condition by drinking a belladonna preparation and slaying their leader. Dradeel seemed to have slept on the ground in a bundle of torn clothes probably taken from his old ship, some with dark brown stains upon them. The hut was windowless, with a chimney he seemed to have hollowed out himself, roughly done. For the people who had come here first... It had been intended for storage, perhaps; there were not many shelves, but if things had been piled upon the floor, perishable items that had decayed after the earthquake, or indeed that Dradeel himself had no use for. One of the shelves would have been slightly too high for Ajantis to reach; the middle one was a little above me and Imoen; and the third below it was low enough to strain anyone's back. I saw another carved fragment of the petrified wood in the corner of the room, squarish except where it had been broken away; perhaps a table. Perhaps I could study it once more with Durlyle, if there was time. If only, I told myself, we'd had the chance to interview Dradeel about the condition the place had been when he had found it. The walls would have not been blackened by the smoke of his fire, for one thing, though they did not look as if they had been marked or decorated in the old time. Imoen touched my arm.
"C'mon, we've got to go back—and I've got to talk to you," she said. "The ship they showed..."
Durlyle's voice called. "Skie? Imoen? You are all right?"
"We're coming," Imoen yelled back, and pulled me back up the tunnel. "Better go back fast," she said, "I've still got to get her to do my hair in that complicated quintuple-braid—we can't miss your people's feast, right? Come on, Skie." She dragged me along; Durlyle ran by us, the same wistful expression in both his face and mine.
—
Not quite affection, satisfaction as their bodies found each other again, Edwin thought; political advantage and there were those less to his taste he would have been willing to seduce—
—