8

  In icy grey surf and deep trouble:

  Honey used her last preset ‘BOOM’ spell to break the grip of whatever was pinning her. Confused, alarmed and chilled to the bone, she didn’t consider how sound was affected by water. Didn’t know, until then.

  The resultant explosion tore the girl’s eardrums and ripped her free of her captor’s hold, raising a seven-foot dome of seawater. Light flared, followed by a tremendous shockwave. Honey saw none of it.

  Tumbled by thundering water, she fought hard to reach the surface, trailing blood and fluid and bubbles. She was in terrible pain, but sometimes you live and stay conscious, even when just letting go would make better sense.

  She could see only dimly. Her lungs were screaming for air and her head was bursting. Then, something shot past overhead. A shadow, shaped like a person. It swept around to seize the struggling girl, who was all at once no longer drowning.

  The shadow holding her cut at once for the surface. They broke water together, back out into stinging spray and wind like an icy slap. But… air. Beautiful, glorious, wonderful air, sucked down in deep, sobbing gasps.

  Blearily, Honey saw a male sea-elf with long, sodden dark hair and eyes that were perfectly black, like those of a shark. His gills were open, exposing their bright red interior, making his voice into a chorus as he shouted,

  “Hold on!”

  He did not swim as a dry-lander would, kicking and paddling. He undulated and thrust, diving down into that churning grey sea, then surging back up to leap clear of the water and onto the stony shore. Honey clung tight through it all, clutching his clothing and hair. As long as she stayed with her rescuer, the girl did not feel wet or cold, and his breathing sufficed for them both. The salt didn’t sting her eyes or burned hands, either.

  On shore, he was less impressive, straightening from a thudding crouch to stand not much taller than Honey, herself. The girl would have thanked him, but they were both distracted by the sight of a sodden, black-and-white lump rolling around in the surf. The undertow had it, was pulling it out to sea. Together, Honey and the elf cried,

  “Skipper!”

  He lowered her onto the pebbly strand, meaning to go after the dog by himself. Honey would not be left behind, though. She rose to totter right after him, dragging a pocketed fortune in goods, weapons and magical items. Her fingers were curled up and half fused together, but she waded into the water, seizing the dog’s tail between her numbed hands.

  The sea-elf didn’t yell or try to force her away. Something else happened, instead. As they hauled Skipper out of the ocean, the elf looked at Honey and said,

  “My apologies, Maiden. This One is badly fatigued and cannot survive a longer possession.”

  Then, he just seemed to drain like ink out of the person before her, leaving behind a big, rangy blond northerner. The newcomer had to brace to stand up on the shifting pebbles and sand underfoot, but he stayed on his feet and kept pulling.

  A few thumping heartbeats later, they were out of the water, crouching in the shelter of an overturned fishing boat. They didn’t talk much… too busy fighting to save a stupid, loyal mutt dog… but the big blond stranger did say,

  “I am Lerendar Tarandahl ob Keldaran, of Ilirian, second heir. Skipper, here, is my grandfather’s very incontinent dog. I blinked and found myself deep in the water a while ago, shifted somehow from a long, boring trade meeting. Andorin took over then, and he sensed your blood on the current. Your thrashing drew us straight over, but I… seriously… what the warmed-over drek just happened?! I wanted out of that meeting, but not like this!”

  Honey listened as well as she could with pounding and bleeding ears. She tried to nod but then stopped. Hurt too much. Sorted through her over-stuffed faerie pockets instead, finding blankets, potions, dog food, a few well-chewed toys. Anything at all that might help the elf to save Skipper. Lerendar was a clumsy mage, seeming unsure how to channel his own power. Looking past Honey at all of that suddenly visible wealth, he growled,

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  “That’s quite a horde for a child. Some of that stuff looks familiar… and Skipper is here, with you. What’s happened? Where’s granddad?”

  Honey sniffled and blinked, reaching for bottles whose labels she couldn’t quite read (stupid, drekt script, again).

  “I dunno, Milord, honest. I was with Genna, out in the formal garden, um… picking flowers. Then I was here. I know time’s gone by, but…”

  Lerendar cocked his blond head to one side, blue eyes drifting rightward and down.

  “About six months,” he agreed, looking surprised. “We’ve been shifted in time and place, or else lost all memory of how we came to… the mainland, feels like. Hang on, let me search out my family. Granddad… mother, dad, Shorty, Aunt Mel… everyone’s alive, but they’re pretty well scattered around.”

  Brilliant, red-golden “seek me” flares crisscrossed the sky like cannon fire. Lerendar counted them silently, breathing a deep, gusty sigh of relief.

  “Five,” he murmured. “Ought to be seven, but Shorty’s too stubborn to call for help, and mother’s likely off nursing a headache, somewhere. Doubt she’s noticed we’re gone.”

  The elf’s gaze unfocused for a moment. At last, he grunted, saying,

  “I think she’s alright. Not in Ilirian, though, and… I can feel the land calling me, not grandfather or dad.” Next, Lerendar looked down at a mithral wedding arm-band he wore, raising it close to his face. “Bea’s still safe, but worried, and I can feel Zara. She…” He shook his head. “She’s got an upset tummy, is all.”

  Under Lerendar’s hands and clumsy magic, Skipper stirred, whining a little.

  “Skip… Muttley… s’ fine, boy,” soothed Honey, dribbling one of those potions into the dog’s open jaws. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

  Or at least, so she hoped. Lerendar shifted position to place a big hand atop the girl’s aching head. Some of his poorly wielded healing manna flowed into Honey, causing bruises, burns and scrapes to repair themselves in odd little jerks and spurts.

  “Thank you, Milord,” she said, once her hearing and eyesight cleared up.

  Lerendar nodded, too distracted to answer aloud. That all up and down that cold beach, people were finding each other was plain from the elf’s frequent outbursts.

  “That’s grandmother and Aunt Mel in one place… Looks like dad’s joined them, or, no… he’s off again.”

  Then,

  “Katina… Lady Katina? When did that happen? Dad’s found her and the sprout, but he’s headed the wrong way if he’s after Valerian.”

  Tarandahl senior was not searching for Lerendar’s middle brother, as it turned out. He showed up right there in front of them, at the lee of an old wooden boat, crouching down to examine Lerendar.

  “There you are, Horse,” said the tall, red-haired elf-lord. “Might’ve sent up a flare and saved me some scurry, or…”

  Keldaran noticed the dog and Honey.

  “These two are in a bad way. Let me help.”

  Lerendar colored slightly, embarrassed by his own lack of skill, but his father bumped against the younger elf’s shoulder and smiled.

  “We don’t all have the same gifts, Horse. I taught you to fight, and there’s no one I’d rather have at my side in battle… except for your grandfather.” Which was saying something.

  “Yessir, Dad. Thanks,” replied Lerendar, meaning it.

  Keldaran next leaned down to stroke the dog’s head and body, getting a feeble tail-wag by way of reply. Light flared, speeding Skipper’s recovery. Honey’s, too. As Skipper got up, shook himself and then cocked a leg to pee on the boat, Keldaran turned to look at the half-elven girl.

  She ducked her head beneath the northern elf-lord’s grim stare. Quietly, he said,

  “Those are dad’s things I see in your pockets, child. But we aren’t related. You can’t be one of dad’s by-blows. How came you by all of Lord Galadin’s possessions and Skipper?”

  Honey shook her head.

  “I… I dunno, Milord. Straight dealin’, no lie. I sorta remember him. We was friends, I think… but I’m from Low Town in Karellon. I’m Princess Genevera’s companion n’ punishment-dummy. I dunno how I come ter meet His Lordship. Just that… I’m really glad he’s not dead, and I’ll give it all back ter him, first chance I get.”

  “Gods and powers permit you the chance to do so,” replied Keldaran, sitting back on his heels. Skipper nuzzled Honey’s face, before crossing to properly greet Lerendar and Keldaran.

  Then a second light flared, as a crowd appeared on their narrow segment of beach. Among all the elves, mortals and half-elves was Vikran, whom Honey greeted with outflung arms and a hoarse, sobbing cry. She couldn’t move very well dragging an elf-lord’s treasure through the ether, but Vikran met the girl halfway, lifting her into his arms.

  “Shh, shh,” soothed the cleric, patting her heaving back. “You have been very brave on your own, but now there are friends come to find you. See? Here are Villem, Vorbol and Nadia.”

  Honey was passed around from cleric to paladins, made much of and healed even more. Meanwhile, Lady Alyanara counted heads seven times. Much of her family was present and safe, but not all.

  Turning to gaze out over the water, tall and straight as a lily, the demi-goddess reached out with her thoughts.

  “Someone has done this,” murmured the former temple maid, perfectly audible over pounding surf and rough wind. “Someone shall very much pay.”