“At least nothing’s killed him yet,” I muttered.
Alake perked up, lifted her head. We all strained to hear what was being said.
The words were gibberish. We looked at each other ques-tioningly. None of us understood.
“It’s that same language he talked when he was out of his head,” I whispered. “And whatever’s in there understands it!”
Which was something I didn’t like one bit, as I was just about to say, when Haplo suddenly gave a great cry that stopped my breathing. And then Alake gave a cry as if someone had torn out her heart. She darted down the passage, heading straight for the steerage!
Devon ran after Alake, leaving me to reflect on the brainless natures of elves and humans (and dwarves). I had no choice, of course, but to run after them.
I arrived in the steerage to find Alake bent over Haplo, who was lying unconscious on the deck. Devon, with more presence of mind than I would have given an elf, had picked up the battle ax and was standing over the two protectively.
I looked quickly about the steerage. It was darker than the inside of our mountain and smelled awful. The stench made me gag. It was horribly cold, but the strange, paralyzing feeling of terror that had kept us out of here before was gone.
“Is he dead?” I asked.
“No!” Alake was stroking back his hair. “He’s fainted. He drove it away! Don’t you see, Grundle?”
I saw the love and admiration in her eyes and my heart sank.
“He fought it and drove it away! He’s saved us.”
“He did. He truly did!” Devon said, gazing down at Haplo in awe.
“Give me that!” I said grumpily, and snatched the ax away from the elf, “before you cut off something valuable and really turn yourself into a girl! And what do you mean, he drove it away? That scream of his didn’t sound like any battle cry to me.”
But, of course, neither Alake nor Devon was paying the slightest attention to me. Their concern was for their hero. And, I had to admit, whatever had been in the steerage seemed to be gone now. But had Haplo driven it away? Or had the two of them reached a friendly agreement?
“We can’t stay here,” I pointed out, propping the ax up in a corner, as far from the elf (and Haplo) as possible.
“No, you’re right,” Alake agreed, looking around with a shudder.
“We could make a litter out of blankets,” Devon suggested.
Haplo opened his eyes, found Alake hanging over him, her hand on his head. I never saw anyone move so swiftly. His actions were a blur. He struck out at Alake, flung her away from him, and was on his feet, crouched, ready to spring.
Alake lay on the deck, staring at him in shock. None of us moved or said a word. I was almost as frightened as I’d been before.
Haplo glanced around, saw only us, and seemed to come to his senses. But he was furious.
“Don’t touch me!” he snarled in a voice colder and darker than the darkness in the steerage. “Don’t ever touch me!”
Alake’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean any harm. I feared you were hurt . . .”
Haplo bit off whatever else he’d been going to say, stared at poor Alake grimly. Then, with a sigh, he straightened, shook his head. His anger died. For an instant, the darkness over him seemed to lift.
“Here, don’t cry anymore. I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said tiredly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I was . . . somewhere else. In a dream. A terrible place.”
He frowned, and the darkness returned to cover him. “I react like that out of instinct. I can’t help myself, and I might accidentally hurt one of you. So just . . . don’t ever come near me when I’m asleep. All right?”
Alake gulped and nodded and even managed to smile. She would have forgiven him if he’d jumped up and down on her. I saw that plain enough and I think Haplo was beginning to see how it was with her. He looked kind of startled and confused and, for an instant, almost helpless. It was enough to make me iaugh, except I felt like crying.