So Close, Yet So Far © Christopher Jacobsmeyer
Anders grinned. He couldn't have played it out more perfect had he tried.
As First Mate of the Silver Spray , he was now in a position to finally get himself to where he believed the lost location of the fabled city of Lantica was. Never mind the fact that proof of its existence wasn't to be had. He knew, he just knew .
Good money, numerous curried favors, and a veiled threat or two to the wizard Madralek had given the greedy half-elven rogue the three things that he needed: a location, the opportunity at First Mate of a certain ship, and a special potion.
Anders had cross-checked his sources (all reliable) three times, and everything indicated that he wasn't being misled. If only he had seen the malicious smile on the wizard's visage after leaving, though… * * * The seventeenth night out at sea, Anders helmed the Silver Spray himself. Everyone else was either asleep or occupied elsewhere on the sleek caravel. He adjusted course slightly to the south and steered by the stars for another two hours. He prayed to whatever gods favored greedy half-elven bastards that his ploy would not be discovered until it was too late.
When the time came, he tied the wheel off and headed below decks for the storage compartment where a very special cargo was being hauled: gunpowder.
The rare and valuable substance was volatile and extremely flammable. Many ships had gone down with the stuff, and the good Captain was bribed heavily to carry it on over to the warring lands. Part of the bribe had included taking Anders on. Since the Captain had lost his previous First Mate in an “accident” only a week before, he was only too happy to oblige.
Anders unrolled a lengthy line of wick and led it from one of the sacks of powder down to the side. He lit the bottom of it with a flint and tinderbox from his personal gear that he had grabbed from a shadowy corner. Yes, he had prepared carefully for this moment.
Given the rate that the flame would travel upward toward the top of the wick, he estimated that he had no more than five minutes before the ship blew. His cover would be maintained, and if he was right, he had no fear that the inhabitants “below” would suspect a thing.
He quickly retraced his steps back to the helm. Seeing that no one had come around to investigate, he untied the wheel before undoing his sack. He withdrew a knife which he sheathed in his belt at his back, then pulled forth a potion. Taking the stopper in his teeth, he spit it out to the deck below.
Bottoms up.
Mouthing a toothy grin, Anders quaffed the potion and dove overboard. The water-breathing effect took hold immediately, and the half-elf swam hard down into the murky depths, thankful that the night vision from his elven ancestry was proving to be beneficial.
A handful of minutes later, the ship blew and fire rained down into the water overhead. * * *
Anders ignored the building pressure in his ears and behind his eyes as he continued to move lower. He had been assured that his desired destination was not deep enough for pressure to have any long-term damaging effects, and his sources were always reliable.
He paused in the water when he saw three figures darting back and forth in the water before him, slowly making their way to his position. They looked humanoid, but they lacked any legs to speak of…
Merfolk?
At that point, the effects of the potion wore off. Anders panicked and began to draw water into his lungs in frantic gasps for breath. One of the figures darted forward and pressed its lips to his, giving him the life-sustaining air that he needed. Oh, most decidedly those lips were feminine!
He closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles, allowing what he thought was a mermaid to take him to safety. For why else would she help him by breathing oxygen into him?
A sharp CRACK! at the back of his skull knocked him unconscious. He didn't need his senses to breathe, or so the merfolk thought. And they were right. * * *
Anders awakened beneath a transparent dome. Doorways led off to three smaller domes to the side, and a pool of water lay in the middle. He got to his feet and explored his surroundings.
In each of the three domes, a small group of people sat looking forlorn. They noted his presence before apathetically averting their gaze.
Then he looked upward.
He thanked all the gods that he had never believed in up to this point. The view was magnificent! Tower upon tower…the architecture was beautiful, and the engineering…well, he couldn't fathom the brilliance and intellectual capacity of those who had concocted the grand designs of the fabled city of Lantica.
Lantica – Elvish for Atlantis.
It didn't occur to him that something was amiss until a little girl approached him from behind.
“Mister, why are you all happy to be here?”
Anders turned to face the girl, puzzlement etched onto his features. He waved at the view above him. “Why not? Look at all the splendor there is to be had…”
“That's not for us,” the girl said sadly. “These domes are our prison.”
And it hit him.
There was no way out but down: down through the pool of water and back into the sea. With his potion gone, he was trapped. No wonder the wizard had been so easy to deal with.
Anders cursed vehemently, causing the girl to blush a deep shade of red.
Just then, two figures rose out of the water. One was a mermaid, and one was the good Captain whose ship he had just sabotaged. He pulled the knife from the sheath at his back and went for the mermaid.
“Take me back to the surface, bitch!”
She laughed. “You humans…oh, I'm sorry – elves ...are so pathetic. Even if I were to breathe you back up to the surface, what would you do then? You destroyed your only means of getting here.”
By this time, the Captain had taken stock of his situation. Upon hearing this revelation, he sputtered a string of curses. “You son of an elven whore…I'll have your head drawn and quartered for this!”
The mermaid laughed again, obviously taking delight at the exchange between the two. “You surface-dwellers are so predictable.”
Anders drew the blade across her neck, drawing a thin trickle of blood. “I'll take my chances,” he gritted slowly through his teeth.
She smiled a luscious smile, and then embraced the half-elven rogue. Eyes closed and blade held at the ready for the slightest sign of betrayal, they made their way back to the site of the doomed Silver Spray .
It was a precarious position for each of them, and they both knew it. She had only to stop breathing into him, and he had only to apply a little more pressure to his blade. Tenuous indeed.
A strong arm gripped the knife and pulled it away from the mermaid's neck. That same arm twisted the knife back upon its owner. Two slashes later, Anders had his own set of gills.
Unfortunately, the merman who gave them to him neglected to tell him how to use them.
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