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Anarzee wailed and swam all the faster, though she knew there was little she could do. Once Darthoridan was cast into the water, the sea creature could finish him off with a single snap.
But when the turtle righted itself, the elven warrior clung to the center ridge of the shell, stubborn as a barnacle. He could not do so for long, however; a wash of bright blood mingled with the water that flowed down the slope of the creature's shell. No warrior could ignore such wounds forever.
Suddenly the sea around Anarzee went still. The u
For a moment the Sea elf knew despair. As she gazed out over the quieting sea, inspiration struck her, as clearly as if the voice of Deep Sashales whispered in her ear.
Without the marker provided by the restless waves, the humans had no way of telling where the dangerous shields lay!
The Sea-elven priestess began to chant a clerical spell, praying for an illusion that would turn the serene waters surrounding Evermeet into a mirror-a mirror that would reflect the still-choppy waves of Umberlee's storm.
Anarzee completed her spell and then dived deep-a heartbeat before one of the pirate ships blundered into the magical barrier.
A flare of light transformed the dying night into midday, and turned the ship into a torch. The Sea elf plunged downward to escape the sudden heat, and to avoid the flailing limbs of the pirates who had survived the first blast and who had leaped-or been thrown-into the water.
The boom and crackle of the fire, the bellowing of the angry dragon turtle, the thrashing of the wounded humans-these things filled Anarzee's senses like a chorus of triumphant music. Too late she caught the vibrations that bespoke a new presence in the waters nearby. Instinctively she twisted to one side-just as a sleek gray form brushed past her.
For a moment Anarzee thought the dolphin had returned to join the battle. But the rough hide that rasped painfully against her arm could belong to only one creature. The sharks, drawn by the commotion of battle and the scent of spilled blood, had come to feed.
Anarzee drew a knife from her belt and dived deeper still. She slashed off a length of kelp and quickly bound the arm that had been abraded by the brush with the shark. There was not much blood, nor would there be, but even a few drops in the water around her could mean her death. At the moment, the sharks were driven to a frenzy by the abundance before them. They would be busy with the pirates for quite some time. But few sharks ever became so sated that they would forbear to hunt their favorite food: a wounded Sea elf.
She placed the knife between her teeth and swam up to the enormous shapes silhouetted against the burning sky. The dragon turtle had turned its attention back to the elven ship, and was nudging it relentlessly toward the open sea-and the two ships that awaited the prize. A thin line of blood streamed into the water from behind the creature's leg, diminishing even as Anarzee drew near. Darthoridan's shot had done little more than nick the turtle's hide. It fell to her to do better.
The Sea elf lunged for the enormous tail. She caught hold of the tip, then pulled herself against the tail and wrapped her legs around it as tightly as she could. With one hand, she took her knife from between her teeth and drove it deep into the tail. She pulled it down with all her strength, tearing a gash in the hide.
Again the dragon turtle roared, a terrible sound that reverberated through the water and even created a lull in the sharks' grim feasting. Anarzee held on as the tail lashed fiercely back and forth through the water. When this method did not avail, the turtle raised the tail above the water and flicked it upward with one quick, hard motion. The Sea elf released her hold, letting the momentum throw her up onto the turtle's spiked shell.
She was not so fortunate as Darthoridan. Waves of agony swept through her as she slammed facedown onto the bony ridge. But she tore herself upright, off the short spike that grated against her hip bone, and came up onto her hands and knees. Ignoring as best she could the searing, numbing pain, she forced herself to look at the wound. There was blood, far too much of it. In a shark-infested sea, such a wound would prove mortal-of that she had no doubt. But perhaps she could survive long enough to complete the task before her.
Still on her knees, the Sea elf made her way over to where Darthoridan lay. He was hurt worse than she had first thought, and near to losing consciousness. She slapped and shouted and pleaded until at last his eyes focused on her.
"Anarzee," he whispered. "Oh, my poor, lost love. There are so many things I must say…"
"No time," she told him grimly. With one torn hand, she gestured toward the elven ship. It had passed the barrier, and pirates swarmed up onto its crystal decks. "The humans must not have this ship! You know what use will be made of it."
A female's scream, shrill with pain and terror, rang out over the sounds of battle. Darthoridan swore bitterly as two of the humans dragged a struggling elf woman up from the hold. The elf woman's bright gown, the circlet of summer flowers hanging askew in her tangled hair, left little doubt in Anarzee's mind as to her identity.
Darthoridan struggled to his feet, but he did not immediately go to his new wife's aid. He seized the harpoon and thrust a second spear into the metal tube. As clearly as if he spoke his thoughts aloud, Anarzee knew what was in his mind. His first task was to keep the ship in elven hands. As long as the dragon turtle lived, the ship was lost. The Sea elf looked down into the churning sea, where the sharks were still avidly feeding. No land-dwelling elf was nimble enough in water to avoid them. If Darthoridan tried again to stop the dragon turtle, he would surely be dead, and his efforts would be for nothing.
Anarzee seized the harpoon with her one good hand. "Go," she demanded, nodding toward the rope ladder that the pirates had draped down the ship's crystal hull.
"You are hurt," he protested, noting at last the blood that stained her mottled skin.
"I am dying," she said simply. "Go, and let me die well. You must save the ship, and the People upon it."
Before Darthoridan could respond, the Sea elf scrambled down the turtle's shell and dived into the water. The Moon elf took a long, shuddering breath and made his way up to the shell just behind the turtle's head. Although the creature's task was done-the elven ship had been herded beyond the magical shields-it remained nearby, circling the ship like a waiting shark.
Darthoridan waited until the creature circled back around to the place where the pirates' boarding ladder hung. He leaped, catching the lower rungs as he fell. The pain as he slammed into the crystal hull was nearly overwhelming, as was the dull throb in his torn shoulder. But he pulled himself up and rolled over the rail onto the ship.
Battle, bloody and fierce, raged all around him. As the elves fought for their lives. But Darthoridan's comrades were no army-just a few friends and kindred who had accompanied the newly wed couple on the northward trip.
The ship lurched suddenly as a rolling wave caught it. Darthoridan seized the rail to steady himself, and suddenly found he was eye-to-eye with the dragon turtle. The creature's eyes were frantic, and its gigantic mouth was flung wide, held open by the harpoon imbedded in the roof of its mouth. It could not shut its jaws without driving the weapon up and into its brain.