The story of the Elf Queen

* * *

The fugitives jumped up and stared at the ship approaching the shore. As it came closer and closer, their astonishment also increased. The ship didn't have sails and masts like the ships of the Free Cities and Islands that traveled the Mid Sea by the hundreds. Its outline was not rounded, but almost straight. Nor did it have the usual stern from which sailing ships were steered. Instead, in the center of the ship a rather large superstructure rose above the deck, with an observation post in the center. A pair of powerful stationary golems, like the ones on the dark dwarf fortresses, were mounted on the same superstructure. Their eyepieces glittered with multicolored lights, and their heavy battle wands stared predatorily in different directions. No oars could be seen on the sides of the strange ship. But on each side of the ship could be seen a pair of powerful twin battle wands mounted on special protruding platforms. Even above the waterline, the sides were thickly studded with rows of short and sharp metal spikes. The ship looked very heavy and clumsy. It was incomprehensible how such a thing could move through the water without sinking. And yet, the metal ship was steadily approaching the shore. Turning to Luaval, Ciara asked in a surprised, normal voice:

"It's running on magical power?! How much power it must consume..."

"Not really. It is driven by dwarven machinery, combined with stationary golems and partially powered by alchemical fuel. I don't know the details, as the masters of the Undermountain jealously guard their secrets."

"It has a flat bottom," Gion said in surprise as he looked at the approaching ship, "Even a fishing boat on oars could outrun it!"

"In these waters, boy, low draft is more important than speed. You should only go in shallow water, if possible," Luaval explained as he continued to look around carefully.

As the unusual ship came almost close to the shore, it froze. A wide ladder was thrown from its bow over the side in a narrow place where there were no spikes, and a loud bass sounded:

"Get on board now! What the hell are you standing there for?!"

It didn't have to be said twice. The fugitives rushed toward the ship. The water of the lake was unexpectedly cold, but no one paid any attention to it. One by one, they all climbed the steps to the ship. The last to climb was Luaval. On the deck, they were met by four strong, broad-shouldered, and tall by the standards of their kin, dwarves, and three elves. The former wore the famous dwarven armor of blued steel, covered with numerous engraved runes. The second was wrapped in gray cloaks with hoods hiding their faces and figures. As soon as all the fugitives were on the deck, one of the dwarves, dressed in noticeably more ornate armor and with a much longer beard, commanded in a loud bass, waving his hand:

"Let's go! Full-back!"

At the same moment, there was a low rumble and murmur, and the ship slowly moved backward. The two elves, meanwhile, quickly approached Tiantrelia, who was indifferent to everything, and four-handedly shackled her in a full set of shackles that suppressed almost any magic. After that, they put on some additional amulets of unknown purpose, put a sack of black silky cloth on her head, and carefully led her away. The third of them, clutching a small amulet, approached the fugitives and Luaval. But before he could say anything, the eldest of the dwarves took the floor again, speaking in a loud bass:

"Greetings aboard the Hardened, one of the finest ships in the Undermountain Fleet! It is a great honor to be aboard her, an honor very few landsmen have ever had! I am its captain, Foran, son of Dorand, of the glorious Cardlehar clan. And as long as you are aboard the Hardened, my word is law. For all of you!" he said the last phrase, looking intently at Luaval.

"No loitering around the ship without authorization. Don't disturb the crew. Don't ask stupid questions. Don't touch anything with your hands! This is not a wooden land merchant ship or the Middle Sea. This is a mighty warship and the Deep Sea! Do you understand?"

The answer was the synchronized nods of the exhausted and grimy fugitives, who were ready and willing to do anything to get some rest.

"Great, glad we understand each other!"

Nodding contentedly, the dwarf turned to the third of the elves that had already removed the binding amulet:

"They are at your disposal."

Then the captain and his assistants went about their business. When he left, the hooded elf, dressed in a cloak, approached the fugitives and said in a polite voice:

"Greetings, honored ones. You may call me Sunset. I and my brethren are charged with escorting you to the edge of the Forest. From there, you can return to Morgrave. If you'll follow me, there are two cabins on the ship for you. They're not large, but they'll have to do. But first, you'll need to detoxify and clean up. Everything's ready for that."

When the rescued prisoners, barely able to move their legs from fatigue and alchemical withdrawal, walked away, another elf dressed in a gray hooded cloak appeared as if out of nowhere beside Luaval, who remained on the deck. He exchanged short nods with his dark kin and activated a voice-distorting and voice-canceling amulet.

"Luaval."

"Darendil."

"How'd it go?"

"Much easier than I thought it would be. Although, there were a couple of dangerous moments."

"Predators?"

"The Hunting Squad. Apparently, the islanders decided not to let us go after all I'd done for them. Lucky for us, we were tracked down by a bunch of juvenile morons led by an equally unintelligent idiot."

"Luck indeed. Do you need to go through the Purification?"

"Yeah, but I'm fine with the Minor one, I've managed to get by without any major stimulants. I could use a full course of Restoration, though."

"That's for when we get back to the Forest. And the rest we've prepared in our quarters. It's not much room, but what can you do? A dwarven ship."

"I'll be fine. What about Zitrael?"

"She's holding up pretty well so far. I'm told we've managed to win at least a couple more days."

"Good to know..."

Continuing to talk quietly, the two elves left the deck for the interior of the ship, which turned and sped away, gradually picking up speed.

* * *

The Small Hall of the House of Senrass was quite crowded. In addition to the Matriarch, a dozen dark-elven women and a few dark elves held the highest positions in the House hierarchy. The former were seated in high chairs of varying degrees of ornamentation and size, arranged in a semicircle. A small number of the latter either took seats behind them or stood separately at the borders of the semicircle. They all stared at the six young Hunters lined up in a fixed line in the center of the hall. A little away from them stood their Senior, who was not a close but not distant relative of the current matriarch. All seven stood at attention, trying their best not to show their fear. They were not doing a very good job of it. And there was a reason for that.

After she finished listening to the report, the matriarch of House Senrass, who sat in the center of the semicircle in an extremely revealing gown of the finest purple silk, leaned back in her chair, which resembled a huge throne made of dark wood. It was decorated with skillful carvings and numerous reliefs, mostly depicting snakes. She put one slender leg over the other and slowly said with a thoughtful expression:

"Interesting..."

In the complete silence of the Small Hall, that single word sounded very clear and equally ominous. Wrapping a lock of her thick light gray hair that reached to her tailbone around her finger, the matriarch turned her ruby eyes on the wrongdoers Hunters, and their Elder. They, to their credit, were able to withstand the gaze of the ruler of the largest and most powerful House in Antak na Shar'Dan. After drawing some conclusions she turned to her cousin sitting at her side in a slightly less luxurious and ornate chair. But in an equally revealing dress, albeit of black silk with silver embroidered snake patterns. She shook her head negatively in response to the mute question. Her silver tiara on her forehead, adorned with a multitude of rubies, continued to glow red, as did the elf's eyes.

"They're not lying. I don't see any traces of magical influence on subtle bodies and minds either."

"Interesting..."

The Small Hall was again ominously silent. The Matriarch once again thoughtfully examined the wrongdoers and voiced the question that was on everyone's tongues:

"Why didn't he kill them?"

When the exhausted Eleventh Hunter Squad returned home unexpectedly, at first no one on the shift didn't even realize what they were talking about or what they were carrying. What test? What failure? What are you guys talking about?! When the Senior of their squad, who had also returned a little earlier, said that they had failed the test, everyone stopped understanding. The Supreme Catcher came to the noise, and upon seeing those who had returned, she asked in an ominous voice what they were doing here and why they weren't searching for the fugitives' trail as they had been instructed to do. She was dumbfounded when she heard their explanations, not believing what she heard. And then...

"IDIOTS!!!"

After giving her rapidly pale subordinates their second scolding of the day, she urgently reported the matter to the matriarch. The Matriarch listened to her and urgently convened the Small Council of the House, stopping the search at the same time.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Melisara's thoughtful voice made everyone turn toward the House's chief diplomat. She was sitting in her chair, her long and slender bare feet on the back of a nearly naked human slave standing on all fours in front of her. Quite handsome even by elven standards. Slender and athletically built, he clutched a pair of black patent leather sandals with silver buckles in his teeth.

"What do you mean, daughter?" the Matriarch inquired.

"It's a message. There is no other reasonable explanation."

There was silence in the Small Hall again, and everyone in the room stared again at the even more pale seven culprits. Pressing her lips together, the matriarch considered her second daughter's words carefully. It seemed like the truth. But what was the message? For whom? And, most importantly, from whom? Suddenly, the Supreme Catcher, who had been glaring angrily at the guilty subordinates, took a sharp step forward:

"Take off all your tops! All of you! Now!"

The six young hunters shuddered and immediately began to hurriedly remove their jackets. Their Senior glared angrily for a moment but quickly began to remove the tops of her robes as well. When all seven of them were naked to the waist, showing off their trained bodies and a pair of nice third-sized tits, the Supreme Catcher grinned.

"Interesting..."

"What do you mean?"

Instead of answering the matriarch's question, the Supreme Catcher drew a small violet-colored crystal from her belt pocket. With a movement of her hand, she dimmed the light of the magical lamps in the Small Hall and lit her crystal. In its diffused violet light, letters glowing with a greenish light appeared on the backs of the seven. Carefully written letters of the elven alphabet, in its darker version. Each had one across his back. Together they formed the words "We know." In addition, a pair of palm prints appeared on the tits of the Senior, whose face twisted at the sight of it. There was complete silence in the Small Hall again. With a stony expression, the matriarch slowly looked at her relatives of varying degrees of proximity. Their faces were also absolutely stony. But the multiplied tension was palpable.

* * *

And why?

"For no reason. Every House is bound to have some secrets and mysteries. Let them wonder who and which of their secrets they meant."

There was silence for a few seconds in the cabin that had been assigned to the firstborn. Then, there was a low laugh. Taking a large sip of water from a flask enchanted to keep the temperature cool, Luaval leaned back and closed his eyes, resting. The top bunk assigned to him was designed for a medium-sized dwarf. It was not the height of the tallest elven teenage child. He had to lie with his legs bent at the knees. But it was a small thing that could easily be tolerated.

"That was really funny. How are you feeling?"

"It's getting better. The worst part of detox is over."

After the cleansing alchemy, two jugs of pure water, three visits to the restroom, and several hours of half-sleep, he did feel better. Luaval wasn't lying in the slightest. He'd still have to take a full course of recovery, though. Too much had happened in the past few days. He had to get Zitrael out of there before her brains could be moved down from her head. He just has to figure out how to do it.

"There's still some fruit left if you want some."

"Thank you, Darendil, but I'm full and..."

Luaval didn't have time to speak, and he stopped short. A moment later, he and Darendil jumped from their top bunks, drew their weapons, and rushed to the door leading to the corridor.

* * *

Gion gritted his teeth and reapplied the hard, coarse washcloth, rubbing himself furiously. The damned ointment, which he'd had to slather all over himself, had soaked into his skin and was coming off slowly and reluctantly. But he was determined to get rid of it completely. First, they were all detoxed from the alchemy they had taken. And that was just about the worst thing that had happened to him since being captured. At first, there was nothing to portend trouble. In fact, aside from the fatigue, he felt pretty good overall, considering the circumstances. But as soon as he drank a full glass of some bitter stuff, and then drank a full pitcher of water, all hell broke loose. No, he'd been told that the effects of taking mind or body-enhancing alchemy could be very unpleasant. But it was one thing to hear those stories, and another to experience them for himself!

First, his stomach and intestines twisted. Then the vomiting started, and all that he had drunk earlier came out. His body began to tremble. Sweat and chills came on at the same time. His head began to spin so dizzy. He would have fallen over if he hadn't been on all fours. How long it lasted, he could not say for sure. Periodically, in this nightmare, the figure of an elf in gray robes appeared from somewhere, holding out a bowl of water or bringing a waste bucket. He was replaced by images of some of his unwilling companions, who were also suffering. His father, his ever-disgruntled mother, or his grandfather himself replaced them. And everyone needed something from him. Everyone wanted something, demanded something, insisted!

At what point the nightmare ended, and the walls and ceiling stopped dancing, he did not realize. Just suddenly the young man realized that his guts were no longer gut-wrenching, and he was lying on the floor of the cabin, on his camp bed. He was in his underwear, soaked in the damned odor suppressant, and soaking wet that he could wring it out. Almost immediately, an elf in gray appeared above him. After unsure Gion had regained consciousness, he helped him waddle into the next room. The few steps down the corridor were harder than the entire previous journey. But then, it got easier. The room they took him to was cramped, and very hot, with several buckets, a metal barrel of hot water built into the wall, jars of soap ointment, and stiff washcloths. The two dwarf masters were already here. They looked extremely grim and haggard. With a silent nod to Gion, they continued to wash themselves. After a while, the three of them were joined by the spellcaster's apprentice who looked no better than the others.

It was foolish to complain about it, though. Gion didn't think himself a fool. He was alive. He had been released from captivity. He should not be thinking about such trivialities as his appearance and lousy health. It is necessary to estimate what the elves asked for his rescue and how it would turn out for him personally. It would be good if they were satisfied with gold and silver, but it was unlikely. A retaliatory favor is more likely. His father and even more so his grandfather have enough influence. But what kind of favor are they interested in? What might they need? And most importantly, how would it turn out for him personally? Damn, he went to visit distant relatives and trade partners at the same time. Gaine experience and join the family business! Although, in a way, that's true. He had an unforgettable experience. And it is possible and necessary to benefit from it.

But first, he had to get rid of the stuff he would remember the smell of for the rest of his life. There weren't many things he hated with all his heart. But he had a list of them. And that list would now add two items to it. That damned odor suppressor, the stench of which was already making him sick. And mohlum chowder, which he would also remember the taste of for the rest of his life. Gion clenched his teeth and rubbed himself with a stiff washcloth with redoubled vigor.

It took a long time to get rid of the nasty stuff. But finally, refreshed and clean from head to toe, Gion poured another bucket of water on himself and smiled contentedly. Done! The gnome masters continued to wash, specifically saving their beards, as did the spellcaster's apprentice who arrived later than everyone else. After wiping himself down, Gion wrapped the towel he had been given earlier around his waist and stepped outside. Immediately, he was knocked off his feet by an incomprehensible thing with a scream. Screaming back, the young man fell to the floor, not realizing what was happening. A woman's frightened and angry voice sounded, wet dark hair, someone's elbow, and a towel flashed in front of his face. A shoving started on the floor of the cramped ship's corridor, someone desperately kicking and shoving while lying on top of him. Gion opened his mouth, desperately struggling and uncomprehending, and was about to scream, but at the same moment a barefooted foot stepped on his face, and with the force of a barefooted foot, his head hit the floor. The back of his head burned with pain and tears spurted from his eyes, but suddenly it stopped.

As he rolled over on his side, Gion hissed in pain and saw a naked female figure rushing down the corridor, having just jumped off him and lost her towel in the process. It was a very pretty slender female figure, with a nice ass and long wet dark hair. After a moment, he recognized her as Sinha, who was running with her bare heels shining and shouting in her native tongue.

"What the..."

He didn't have time to say anything, for a blurry gray shadow swept past him, literally skipping over him, and he followed the slanted shaman. A moment later, the eldest of the dwarf masters jumped out of the room where he had been washing himself, his eyes bulging and in the middle of nowhere.

"What's going on?"

The red-haired spellcaster ran out of the next room and into the corridor. To the dismay of Gion, who was lying on the floor, she was wrapped in a towel. Albeit a rather wet one. Her eyes were burning with fire, and her right hand held a fireball.

"Sinha! Where is she?!"

Grunting, Gion rose to his feet, keeping his towel in place:

"She ran like a madwoman somewhere over there, knocking me down on the way. What the hell happened?!"

Swearing, Ciara extinguished the fireball and rushed toward her and the other girls' assigned quarters.

"I don't know, Andrea and I were washing off the damn odor suppressor when she suddenly jumped up like a burned one and yelled something in her..."

The spellcaster didn't have time to speak, as suddenly the ship shook, and the magical lights blinked and went out.

* * *

As soon as Luaval and Darendil were out of their quarters, the daughter of the steppe shaman came flying down the stairs leading to the lower deck of the ship. Fully naked, wet, with a frightened face and slanted eyes. When she saw the dark elf, she rushed towards him with inarticulate squeaks, paying no attention to her nakedness:

"Mr. First! I can't hear anything! Khao-tan is gone! I stopped hearing their voi..."

Before she had even finished speaking, Luaval realized and rushed down the corridor to the stairs leading to the upper deck, yelling as he went:

"Alert! To arms! Alert!"

Darendil and two other Secret Guard agents rushed after him. As soon as he was out of the room, Luaval slid to the side. The cloaking amulet that blurred his figure and movements was working at full capacity, as was the protective amulet. On the way out, the attackers would strike first. But as it turned out, this precaution was entirely unnecessary, for the enemies had other things to bet on.

A couple of meters from the side of the ship, a trio of charming mermaids, with faces and figures as beautiful as the firstborn maidens, towered above the water, literally standing on their tails. It didn't matter whether they were light or dark. At the sight of their faces, the frozen Luaval felt a vague suspicion. They reminded him of someone. Exactly! One of them resembled the youngest of his sisters, the only one with whom he had some kind of warm relationship. The second reminded him of his mother, in the rare moments when she remembered that she was his mother. The third resembled his first real attraction and passion, the one who had become the mother of his daughter and son. All three sea maidens smiled cheerfully and beckoned to him, with sparkling eyes and pure faces. Whispering and chuckling. Promising...

His temples burned sharply with the pain from the tiara, and Luaval, who had been frozen, jumped back with a hiss shaking his head. His head cleared. It was as if a veil had been torn from his eyes. A moment, and the haze dissipated. There were no beauties with the faces of family and friends. There were three brats of the depths that looked as much like their upper kin as the firstborn looked like goblins and orcs. Gray slimy skin, dark scaly tails that resembled moray eels, huge, almost half-face eyes, almost devoid of irises and whites. Also, they had very large mouths that opened as well as other snakes and were full of sharp and thin fangs. And most dangerous of all, the long and flexible outgrowths growing straight from his forehead, ending in a ball of pale green light. At the mere sight of which everything swims in front of the eyes again, and an inarticulate whisper begins to sound in the ears. The central of the deep mermaids had three of them, a large central one, and two smaller ones on the sides. Her companions, who supported the eldest's charm possessed only one glowing ball. All three of them held staffs of some dark material, richly decorated with shells, pearls, and various skulls. Including humanoid skulls.

In one motion, the dark elf snatched two amulets in the form of glass spheres from his belt, activated and threw them overboard, turning away and closing his eyes at the same time. The trio of deep-sea critters hissed angrily, raising their staffs, but there was no time to do anything. With a deafening rumble and a blinding flash, the amulets exploded. They did no physical harm to the women of the depths, but they did something more important. They broke the deep creatures' skillfully induced illusion. Unfortunately, it was too late for some of the crew. Several of the dwarves, from among those on the upper deck when the attack had begun, were already standing on the edge of the side, and a couple were just getting their feet over the side. Some of them lost their balance and collapsed into the dark waters with a scream. Some of those who survived were caught and braided by ropes that came out of the water and were torn from the ship with a jerk. Only a couple of the dwarves who had climbed aboard were lucky enough to fall backward instead of forward. A few moments later, there were surprised shouts from the rest of the crew, and an alarm horn blared, clearing ears and heads as well as protective amulets.

Almost immediately, harpoons and darts flew from all sides of the ship, straight out of the water. Most missed, but some of those on board were caught. Fortunately, the crew members were wearing armor, and injuries were avoided. But after the harpoons and darts, hooks flew at the ship from Luaval's side, clinging to the side. At the same time, the inhabitants of the depths that possessed the gift of the Alluring Light, as the dark elves called it, sailed back and began to prepare a new attack. Apparently, on the other side of the boat, their female companions were doing the same. The dark elf didn't wait for them to finish and rushed to the nearest flatbed, where a pair of powerful battle wands were attached. As he went, Luaval tossed several more amulets overboard. Two of them exploded underwater, raising fountains of spray, while the third spread out in a cloud of powerful poison.

A pair of arrows whistled ravenously from behind her, hitting the chest of the older of the deep-sea creepers. Alas, a necklace of shells, pearls, bones, and who knows what else protected its owner, deflecting both arrows, but forcing her assistants to interrupt the weaving of some kind of foulness and move to the defense of her companion. Meanwhile, Luaval had reached the twin battle wands mounted on a special carriage and hissed with impotent anger. Both of the power crystals that powered the stationary artifact were missing. Most likely, they had been taken out by the duty shooters, who had their heads messed up. Fortunately, at that moment the ship's captain said his word, proving that a dwarf battleship was not the easiest prey. From the upper deck, a dozen magic balls flew into the air, bursting with almost sunlight that burned the eyes accustomed to the eternal darkness. And at the same time, it interrupted the living light of the inhabitants of the depths. Dozens of dark silhouettes could be seen circling around and under the ship in the water illuminated by the orbs. Following them, some powerful artifacts discharged with a loud crack, and several bright bolts of lightning struck the water directly from the sides of the ship. The creatures closest to the Hardened were killed instantly, and a dozen of them floated to the surface a few moments later, belly-up.

The two stationary golems awakened at the same time. Their eyepieces flashed different colors, focusing on the enemies. Powerful battle wands twisted and spat dozens of magical arrows in different directions. The female spellcasters of the deep dwellers were the first to be hit. Some of them managed to hurriedly dive, but a couple were literally torn to pieces by the super-dense charges of magical energy without even noticing their defenses. Following the magical arrows, lightning bolts struck the water, forcing the silhouettes of the deep creatures to retreat from the ship. Luaval ducked and lunged along the ship's side, infusing his blades with magic and cutting the ropes of hooks as he went. They were pulling the ship toward him, trying to turn it over. Or at least make it scoop up water. At the same time, with loud swearing, the alarmed crew members ran out of the lower decks. From somewhere above came the loud voice of the captain:

"Hurry up, hurry up! Bombers on five and overboard! And go, go, go!"

The meaning of the commands became clear when a dozen metal balls fell into the water with a loud splash from special holes in the ship's side. A few seconds later, muffled by the water column, explosions rang out, and fountains of water hit the air, while the boat rocked violently on the rising waves. Some lost their footing, but fortunately, no one fell overboard. But the inhabitants of the depths of the water had a hard time. Foran, who was on the top observation post, yelled in his magic-enhanced voice as he bought time:

"Why are we standing?! I said full speed! Hurry up before the fishmongers or something worse comes out of the depths! What?! Spawn of the abyss! Start the afterburner! Quickly! Get ready! Hold on!"

The captain shouted the last command particularly loudly. Realizing what was about to happen, Luaval, who had cut the rope of another cat-hook, jumped off the side of the ship, grabbing the ledge of the central superstructure. A few moments later, a wave of magical energy washed through the ship, from the activated stationary magical artifacts inside the ship. The charge they expended was respectable. But the effect was worth it. The ship's weight had dropped by almost three-quarters. It couldn't last long, but it didn't need to. A few moments later, there was a growing roar, and jets of alchemical flame erupted from three wide pipes sticking out of the stern of the ship. The "Hardened" sped off faster than the lightest sailing schooners in the hurricane wind, splashing through the water and leaving a plume of waves behind it. Those who could not get hold of anything fell to the deck. Fortunately, no one fell overboard. Luaval clenched his teeth and hissed angrily through his clenched teeth:

"Home sweet home."

* * *

"Fucking brats of the abyss, fuck their mothers with pickaxes! Fucking cunts, I wish they'd never see the light of day! Fucking corpse-eating, bottom-feeding rats! Fucking assholes!"

A flow of profanity from the eldest of the shipmasters was pouring from the thicket of his luxurious beard without ceasing. But the sturdy and gray-haired dwarf did not let it interfere with his work. Together with a trio of assistants, the old master was inspecting three rather large ship propellers. Or rather, what they had become. "Hardened" at this moment was standing in shallow water, almost at the very shore of the underground sea, in a small coastal pond. With the help of a special artifact, the dwarves had literally forced the water to part around the propellers, opening access to them. And from what he saw, the senior shipwright and broke out a profanity, whose flow did not stop for almost half an hour.

All three propellers looked as if they had been bathed in acid, red-hot, and then bathed in acid again. Some blades had broken off, some were bent, and the rest were badly deformed and covered with a thick layer of rust, literally stuck to the axles. It could not be repaired - only replaced. The masters were working on it while informing everyone around them what they thought about the inhabitants of the depths and about those they met in particular. The rest of the crew was on deck at the same time, in full combat readiness, not counting those who covered the masters directly. Half of them were keeping a close eye on the dark waters of the underground sea with their twin battlewands. The rest were staring intently into a wide and dark passageway that led to one of the many halls of the Wild Territories of the Underground. It led down to the very waterhole where the ship had docked when the alchemical fuel had run out.

Grim Foran paced the deck and bit his beard with impotent anger. The crew had lost a dozen and a half dwarves, and seven more had received bruises and fractures of varying degrees of severity. And the captain would have been very happy to shorten the beards of the guilty, first of all, to the chief of the duty shift. Except that those directly responsible, including the supervisor, were the ones who died. The ones who missed the attack. In their defense it could be said that the deep creatures struck suddenly and damn well coordinated, immediately blinding and covering the on-duty personnel with their illusions. But who cares about excuses? You've been sailing the Deep Sea for years, you know what it's like! Gritting his teeth with impotent anger, the captain and his assistants approached the three elves who stood on the upper deck, putting enchanted arrows on the bowstrings, and looked carefully around. Their eyes were burning with magical fire, as well as the stones of magical diadems and hoops on their heads. As he approached them, the captain coughed, drawing attention to himself. What was about to be done made him want to howl like a wolf, but conscience and honor did not allow him to avoid it. When all three of the sharp-eared men turned to him questioningly, he said in a grim voice:

"Accept my thanks, honored ones. If you hadn't raised the alarm, we could all have become fodder for the spawn....."

"Thank not us, Captain."

The voice behind them made the dwarves turn around, instinctively swinging their axes, but they stopped in time. Foran cursed, pointing his finger at the dark elf who had appeared out of thin air:

"Don't you dare sneak up on me like that, dark one, if you don't want to..."

"And tell your masters to shut up, Captain. Immediately. You can hear their voices for two neighborhood halls."

When he opened his mouth to send the dark one back to the cave he'd crawled out of, Foran hesitated at the last moment. With a twinkle in his eye, he nodded to his aide and ran off to the masters, who were still cursing and swearing at the deep creatures. Darendil, still looking carefully around, quietly asked Luaval, who had returned from his reconnaissance:

"Did you notice anything?"

"No. And I don't like it. I ran this hall and the next one after it. It's empty. No one and nothing. Not even a footprint. No one at all."

The nearest dwarves who heard this quietly cursed and became even more gloomy. The elves, too, turned darker, staring even more intently into the darkening passage.

"How much longer do we have to stand here, Captain?"

"Not long, just need to change the propellers, we have spares, so another hour and we can move on."

"All right. Tell the masters we need to get out of here as soon as possible."

"They already know... Wait a minute! What do you mean?"

In response to Luaval's questioning look, the captain explained:

"You said you weren't the one to thank. But you raised the alarm!"

Shaking his head, the dark elf replied:

"We didn't. It was that slanty-eyed girl you picked up with me that raised the alarm. She's a spirit speaker and very talented, especially for her age."

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, the captain asked:

"Did her spirits tell her the fish-faced ones were coming?"

"It would be more accurate to say that the inhabitants of the depths had scattered or dispersed all the spirits in the neighborhood, causing her to stop hearing their voices."

"So that's how it is," the captain said thoughtfully and glanced toward the passage leading inside the ship where the rescued prisoners were.

* * *

The repair, despite the masters' efforts, took almost two hours instead of an hour. Because the screws, to which the fishmongers had applied some of their magic and alchemy, were stuck to the axles and had to be removed with great difficulty. Then, with the same labor to put in their place the spare ones, luckily they were available on the ship. Still, the dwarves had been exploring the underground waters for centuries and had a great experience communicating with the inhabitants of the depths. A very bitter experience.

All this time, while the repairs were in progress, the passengers and crew were tense, constantly expecting an attack from the water or from the shore. But no one appeared, neither from the depths of the dark waters nor from the gloom of the underground halls. The ship sailed away from the shore and moved on at the maximum speed the spare propellers allowed. Which were still a little smaller than the standard ones.

* * *

A knock on the door made everyone in the cabin startle and alert. Ciara dangled her feet off the bed, found her wand in her hand just in case, and said:

"Who's there?"

A muffled bass sounded from behind the door:

"May I come in, honored ones?"

Recognizing the voice of the ship's captain, the Spellcaster tucked her battle staff back under her pillow and opened the door. Andrea, who had been dozing on the top bunk, raised herself up on an elbow, but almost immediately collapsed back down. The effects of the alchemy had taken its toll on her, and she'd have to take her to the healers when she got back and get her checked out. Sinha, who'd been running around the ship naked, sat in the corner of her bunk with her arms around her knees and her face pressed into them. Apparently, she wasn't feeling too good either. She didn't react to the door opening and the captain stepping inside until he gently touched her with his hand.

The girl straightened up and stared in surprise with slanted eyes at the dwarf standing before her. Foran, straightened up as if on parade before the king, with his head uncovered, holding his helmet under his arm, coughed loudly, clearing his throat, and then said in his sonorous bass:

"Daran af maul, Sinha-Hayan."

Nodding to the wide-eyed shaman, who understood nothing but her name, he placed a golden bracelet on the bed in front of her, covered with runic ornaments and decorated with small rubies. After that, he pressed his left hand, clenched into a fist, to his heart, turned, and left. Before any of the women in the cabin could say anything, Foran's first mate entered the room. He stood before the slanting steppe woman and said:

"Daran af maul, Sinha-Hayan."

He put a thick gold ring with a white pearl beside the bracelet. Then he saluted in the same way and left. The next dwarf came into the cabin after him. Then another. And so, one by one, the cabin where the rescued captives were housed was visited by all the surviving members of the crew. When the last of them left, on the bed in front of the stunned shamaness lay a small pile of jewelry made of silver and gold adorned with precious stones. It was worth a fortune.

* * *

Standing in the center of the engine room, where a pair of stationary golems whose sole purpose was to turn the propeller shafts, Foran took a deep breath. Fifteen brothers. The biggest loss in a very long time. And it would have been even more if it hadn't been for the Earth Hearing girl. They might have all died with the ship. Gritting his teeth, the stone-faced captain wrapped his beard around his left fist and pulled it back. A short swing of a razor-sharp knife made of dwarven-steel, his pride and beauty as a man hung clenched in his fist. In its place, all that remained on the captain's face was an ugly mess of hair sticking out in shaggy wisps. Without flinching his hand, Foran threw the severed beard into the open furnace of the alchemical furnace, where the special fuel that powers and energizes the ship's complex mechanisms was burning. With a crackle, the greenish flames consumed it without a trace. Turning around, the captain walked silently out of the engine room. Following him, the first officer immediately went inside.

* * *

A difficult task for an agent of the Elf Queen.