Rise of the Sciencemancer

Ch. 10 Underwater Danger

  George had hit the water headfirst. He knew he should right himself and get his head pointed upward, toward the surface, but his body wouldn’t move. It was numb, numb with whatever the fae-bloods had had him drink and numb with the unexpected frigid coldness of the water, which only got colder as he sank into depths that received less sunlight. He wondered if the fae-bloods had spiked his drink with something or if he really just hadn’t been able to handle the alcohol in its normal form. He wondered if it would hurt to die.

Just then, he saw a darker shadow against the water and heard the turbulence of some kind of movement. What felt like a pair of hands grabbed him roughly, not gently at all. The hands were small, but with long, bony fingers, stabbing bruisingly into his flesh to secure their grip. George was elated for a moment because if he wasn’t hallucinating, then this could be a rescue. However, instead of pulling him upward, the hands dragged him down further and faster.

Once he realized this person or thing was pulling him down, not up, George’s survival instinct overcame his paralysis and he began to struggle. A moment ago, in his depression, George had been willing to die in the cold, numb water, but the thought of being devoured by some undersea creature re-awakened his desire to live. He thrashed madly. He could feel the grip of the hands on him start to slip.

Then, his captor came in close enough to see better, a dark silhouette, small and shapely like that of a woman, with flowing hair and seaweed around its head. What would have taken George’s breath away if he’d been breathing was the thing’s glowing eyes, the only feature of it not in silhouette. Bubbles suddenly burst from where it’s mouth should be and the thing actually said something, a single syllable, incoherently babbled into the water. George’s eyes felt as heavy as lead as he suddenly knew what the creature had said.

 A sleep spell was a minor spell of the First Column, one any apprentice mage could cast within a few months of beginning to learn magic. George had been supposedly casting it in school for years, though he had not known that his teachers had been cheating for him. In his school lessons, students had been both the casters and the recipients of the spell. It had been cast on them for learning purposes and to provide subjects for their classmates to practice on. George knew how it felt to be overcome by a sleep spell. So, the creature was using magic on George since he had begun to struggle.

That was George’s last conscious thought for awhile.

*********

When George awoke, he found that he was surprisingly dry, laid out in pitch darkness on an uncomfortable floor, a rough rock floor like the floor of a cave. Was this an underwater cave with air in it? If it was, was the air supply limited? How long would it last? A light spell instantly came to mind, but George caught himself, realizing that was a reflexive thought of his old life, back when he had been tricked into thinking that he had the Gift of Magic, back when he had a whole life laid out in front of him that looked good and included marrying Melindra and making his parents proud, continuing the family’s magical dynasty. No, he could no more summon magic to light his surroundings than he could have moved the stone or read the child subject’s mind when tested for the Gift of Magic by his father. He would have to cope with the darkness, the darkness his life had become, the darkness of not having magic.

George used his time in the dark to feel around cautiously. He found wooden crates, stacks of them. This dry cave might be where the sea creature kept treasures and other belongings that needed to stay dry. Most of the crates were sealed and would have needed a tool to open, but some had already been opened and the lids were loose. George wondered if he should open some of the unsealed ones, but didn’t relish the thought of rummaging around blindly with his hands into who knows what kind of contents. The contents could be sharp or poisonous. It was another reflexive thought from his old life: A mage must protect his hands, for they are his craft. No hands, no spellcasting. George decided that his hands needed protecting whether he was a mage or not.

Suddenly, there were wet sounds that seemed about ten feet away in the total darkness, a large splash followed by drippings and smaller, pattering splashes as the drippings landed on the cave floor. Then came the voice, like gravel being tossed about in a whirlpool.

“What has she brought in here and won’t show me? Me, her own mother! Ffaghh! Impudent child! She forgets her place, yes she does.”

The voice stopped. There was a sniffling sound.

The voice resumed, exuberant. “Man flesh! Live man flesh! Young man flesh! Yummy! Let’s see it! Yes, let’s see it shall we now!”

The voice murmured the exact light spell incantation that George would have liked to have used if he had truly had the Gift of Magic. The cave illuminated fully, brightly enough to read by, but not too brightly as to hurt one’s eyes. George was horrified to see that he was alone, in an underwater cave, with no magic, no weapons, and no help, face to face with a sea hag.