In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 36: The Questioning

Malaraq was adrift in an ocean of agony.

Around him, dark waves pounded and beat him beneath a cool, delicate surface of what felt like millions of tiny bubbles-- but he was not fooled. As a child, he and his extended family (a small group of perhaps ten to fifteen individuals) had lived beside a Great Sea, where water-shells had dabbled the sandy landscape and salty grazing fish were to be had by the hundreds...before a band of invaders from the North had come to plunder. Malaraq and his family--the few that survived-- eventually fled North and blended with the then-fledgling village of what would later become Looks Thrice, but not before Malaraq had his first (and only) direct experience with the Great Sea. He remembered; he'd been seven, and his ample aunt had warned him in that shrill voice of hers-- had it really been so long ago?-- not to wander too close to the waters.

Malaraq, even then having had a thick skull, paid her no mind, and subsequently found himself caught in a rip-tide that had battered him like a limp doll, and which he had been lucky to get out of. Indeed, had two of his older uncles not been such good swimmers, he might have perished in those waters... as he surely would now.

He tried to scream for help; black water poured into his lungs, searing and burning until he coughed and spluttered his torture. Again and again, huge waves more than fifty man-lengths tall rolled him beneath the surface.

Bless the Twin Moons, where am I? What is this agony?

Again, he tried to call for help. Again, it was useless.

This time, he felt a blinding pain in one of his legs-- he wasn't even sure which-- and was sure that he had been dashed into a nest of coral. While the prickly edges of the dead sea-plants made him want to howl in pain, on a primitive level he felt like screaming with relief. Where there was coral, the shore was near, and where there was shore, there were People.

Sashaying beneath the waves like a clumsy deer that has plunged into the water to escape an enemy, Malaraq clawed his way to the surface. And there, once he took a great gasp full of fresh, salty sea air, he realized that he was in no place that resembled home.

The sky, which was blacker than soot, had no Twin Moons.

Great Weema, where am I? Is this some sort of-- dream?!

Another wave, this one gentler, finally pushed him onto the wet, sticky sand of some desolate beach. Malaraq felt like weeping; momentarily forgetting the pain in his leg, he grabbed fistfuls of the wet sand and kissed them repeatedly, laughing like a giddy child at the sea-weed that became caught in his teeth. At last, he was safe! He could drag himself as far away from these dangerous waters as he could, perhaps finding sanctuary with the same invaders who had plundered his family and sent them fleeing south--

But no. Behind him, there came a great, low rumble from the direction of the waters. It was a sound that was so deep it was nearly silent, causing the sand, the shells, and skittering crabs all around them to tremble with the fullness of it.

Again, that sound. Malaraq's heart, which had barely had time to thaw, now stiffened in his chest. He dared not turn around.

Another groan, this time louder, inclining to a high, feverish pitch that resembled the rage of some great, mighty beast that has been denied its rightful due. The sound, while eerily beautiful, was at the same time breath-taking in its intensity and fearsomeness.

"Great Twin Moons! Save me from this madness!" Malaraq called hoarsely, making use of his shaking voice for this first time-- but there were no Twin Moons to hear.

Slowly, he picked himself up from the wet sand-- teetering dangerously on the wounded leg which, even now, leaked alarming amounts of blood and lymph-- and peeked in terror at the waters behind him.