He gasped, began to breathe water. After a few moments, his head cleared. He couldn’t see, and groped his way among the wreckage. Shoving broken timbers to one side, he managed to free himself.
He swam aimlessly, wondering if he was going to be doomed to flounder about in this watery night until he collapsed from exhaustion. But even as the thought took shape in his mind, his head popped up out of the water. Gratefully, he sucked in air.
Floating on the surface, he trod water quietly, and looked around him.
A large campfire had been built on the shore. Wood crackled and burned, offering comforting warmth and light. Its ruddy glow was reflected off the cavern’s rock ceiling and walls.
Haplo sensed fear, coming from outside him. Overwhelming terror surrounded him. The walls were covered with some sort of sticky green-brown substance that seemed to ooze from the rock like blood. He had the strange impression that the cave itself was wounded, that it lived in fear. Fear and horrible pain.
Ridiculous.
Haplo glanced swiftly behind him, to either side, but could see little. Here and there, a gleam of firelight played on wet rock.
The sound of splashing drew his attention. Three figures— black shadows against the orange firelight—emerged from the water. Two of the figures were helping the third, who could not walk. By this, the musical sound of clashing beads, and a muffled groan from the third figure, Haplo judged them to be his mensch.
He saw no sign of the dragon-snakes.
Alake and Devon managed to drag Grundle partway up the shore. Once there, obviously exhausted, they let loose of her hands. All sank down to rest. But Alake had only taken a few deep breaths before she was back on her feet, heading again for the water.
“Where are you going?” The elf’s clear voice echoed in the cavern.
“I’ve got to find him, Devon! He may need help. Did you see his face—”
Haplo, muttering imprecations beneath his breath, swam for the shore. Alake heard the sound of his splashing. Unable to see what or who was making the noise, she froze. Devon hurried to her side. Metal glinted in his hand.
“It’s me!” Haplo called to them. His stomach scraped against solid ground. He stood up, walked, dripping, out of the water.
“Are . . . are you all right?” Alake reached out a timid hand, withdrew it at the sight of the scowl on Haplo’s face.
No, he wasn’t all right. He was all wrong.
Ignoring both the human and the elf, he stomped past them, strode swiftly to the fire. The sooner he dried off, the sooner his magic would return. The dwarf lay in a sodden heap on the sand. He wondered if she was dead. A muffled groan reassured him.
“She hurt?” he asked, reaching the fire.
“No,” answered Devon, coming up from behind.
“She’s scared, more than anything,” Alake added. “She’ll come around. What . . . what are you doing?”
“Taking off my clothes,” Haplo grunted. He had stripped off his shirt and his boots, was now unlacing his leather trousers.
Alake gave a strangled cry. She hastily averted her face, covered her eyes with her hands. Haplo grunted again. If the girl had never seen a naked man before, she was going to see one now. He had neither the time nor the patience to indulge a human female’s sensibilities. Though his warning magic was gone, the sigla washed away, he had the distinct feeling that they weren’t alone in this cave. They were being watched.
Flinging his trousers to the sand, Haplo crouched by the blaze, held out his hands and arms to the warming fire. In satisfaction, he watched the droplets of water evaporate, begin to dry. He glanced around.
“Pull your scarf over your head,” he ordered Devon. “Sit by the fire. It’d look suspicious if you didn’t. But keep your face out of the light. And put that damn knife away!”
Devon did as he was told. He thrust the knife in his breast, dragged a strip of wet cloth up over his head and face. Shivering, he crept near the fire, started to squat down, legs crossed.