Black wizards - Douglas Niles [27]
Gradually he noticed that the waves grew smaller, and the wind died away almost completely. The swells lessened. Though the crests of the waves still loomed six or eight feet higher than the troughs, they seemed to carry him up and down with an easy and unthreatening rhythm. No longer did they curl over at the top, thundering down to crush anything below them.
The horizon lightened to a dull gray, and he peered around for any sight of land or sail or even debris. Visibility was still very poor, and he could make out no features beyond the rolling swells.
"Tristan!" He heard the voice as if from a great distance away, and he was certain that he imagined it.
"Tristan!" it repeated. "Over here!"
Now he squinted intently across the gray surface, wondering if he was losing his mind. There! He saw a flash of brightness over the crest of a wave.
"Daryth!" He croaked. He finally saw his friend, and Pontswain too, bobbing across the rolling summit of a wave. The Calishite was soon kicking toward him, buoyed by an air-filled wineskin and a loose bundle of wood, and dragging a sodden Ponstwain behind him.
"Are you injured?" asked Daryth.
"I don't think so. How about you?"
"Just wet and cold." The Calishite somehow found the strength to grin. Pontswain's formerly graceful locks hung like a wet blanket across his face. He looked barely alive, and he did not acknowledge the prince's presence.
"Aye," grunted Tristan. "And I've lost the Sword of Cymrych Hugh. The goddess alone knows how far it is to land from here, or what such land would be."
"Still, the seas are calming, and it'll be daylight soon. We may even sight a sail." But Daryth didn't look as cheerful as he sounded.
Pontswain coughed weakly and struggled to raise himself. His efforts sent the makeshift raft rolling, and everyone scrambled to regain their handholds.
"Be careful!" snapped the prince as the lord gave him a baleful glare.
"This is your fault! If you hadn't let that old fool take us in his rot-ridden craft, this would not have happened!"
"That man gave his life for us! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"He met the fate he deserved for his incompetence. He failed, and that's all that matters," said Pontswain.
But as twilight gave way to dawn and the clouds broke apart, the men saw no sign of anything except the rolling sea. They could tell which direction was east, for there the sun became a rosy glow against the horizon, finally breaking free from the sea to begin its climb into the sky. But that knowledge did them little good, for they had no idea which direction to look for land.
"What's that?" Daryth asked suddenly.
Everyone fell silent because they all heard it: A faint rumble seemed to arise from the sea itself. The sound was almost inaudible, but was so deep and powerful that they felt it as much as a vibration in their bones as a sound in their ears. The sound grew in volume and strength, until they heard a noise like crashing thunder, rolling constantly. The water itself seemed to shake.
Suddenly the surface of the sea turned to foam a scarce hundred yards away from them. Water frothed upward and then rolled away, creating a steady wave that forced them backward. A crenelated parapet, like the top of a tower, burst through the surface and sent spray and waves crashing away from it. Another, and then a third, exploded from the sea, thrusting skyward like gigantic lances.
And then the foaming water spilled away to reveal a vast surface of smooth stone. A glowing rosy hue shone from a wall as the thing caught the rays of the morning sun. More walls, and a gate, and more towers continued to rise for a minute until the vast object came to rest, seeming to sit upon the surface of the sea.
Tristan, Daryth and Pontswain, bobbing in the water and gaping in awe, stared at the most magnificent castle that they had ever seen.
It stood