The Grey Pearl (Of Caladuin: Volume Two)

19

She froze and listened to her heartbeat in the dark silence.

"Tathariel."

This time she grabbed the lamp and made for the source of the voice. A short, narrow passageway led off to the right. As she approached it, two iron-studded oak doors faded into view.

A soft, dull knock at the further door. "Tath –

She rested the lamp on the floor then fumbled with the keys; there were only half a dozen or so and she made short work of unlocking the door. She picked up the lamp then lifted the latch. The haggard figure in the dark beyond cowered from the dim light.

"I am here, Caladuin," Tathariel whispered.

He held his hand up as she stepped into the cell, squinting at her through his fingers. He was naked and covered in filth and bruises. Dried blood caked his upper lip. His matted hair stuck to his head and face. As he lowered his hands to cover himself, she noticed that the first two fingers of his right hand were swollen and twisted.

She closed her eyes, hoping that he would not see her despondency.

"At last, a friendly face." Caladuin smiled. He stepped toward her. "Tathariel, we have not known each other very long. If you could –

"Cala! I thought they had broken you."

"Broken fingers, unbroken spirit."

She laughed and their shadows danced in the wobbling lamplight.

"Tathariel, some clothes."

It took them a while to find the dock. Amlug's fortress was like a rabbit warren; tunnels led off in all directions and they doubled back on themselves more than once. It was Caladuin who suggested placing the wall lamps on the floor as a way to mark their route. They managed to fashion a splint for his fingers from two keys and some thread from one of the dead guard's tunic. It wasn't ideal but it would have to do until he could set them properly. He had broken fingers before and this was a mild inconvenience rather than a hindrance: he would soon be using his bow again.

They extinguished their lamps as they walked out onto a wide landing overlooking a huge sea cavern; the stairs here led down to the dock. From the starlight flooding in through the mouth of the cavern, Caladuin judged it to be just past noon. Other than two beacons at either end of the breakwaters that marked the entrance to the cavern, there was no other light.

But there was movement: the cavern was writhing with the indistinct shapes of countless Dolendrim, readying the dozens of black ships that lined the jetties. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that there were others standing in long lines, passing small crates onto the ships.

Tathariel had seen it too: "There must be a storage room somewhere. Can you see?"

"Over there," he answered, pointing. "In the far wall." The line of Dolendrim led back to a dark gap between two ships from where the Grey Pearls were being passed.

"I suggest," Tathariel hissed, "that we set a fire in that storeroom and destroy this fortress and everything in it."

Caladuin looked at her grimly. "A tempting suggestion. But we are ill-equipped to fight a thousand Dolendrim in the dark. Besides, we have to make sure."

Tathariel nodded. "Amlug." She looked around, seemingly for some inspiration as to what to do next. Her gaze fell on something far up, over Caladuin's shoulder. He turned and found a dim light high up in the rock wall. A wide slot, some kind of balcony. In its midst, a silhouette leaned with arms spread, looking down onto the work that was being carried out on his behalf.

Caladuin turned back to Tathariel. "And we do not have far to look."

"If you can reach him, I will find a way to sabotage one of these ships."

Caladuin nodded then gestured towards the mouth of the cavern. "We should meet at the breakwater."