But when he swam to the surface to take a look, he remembered that the waterfall arced out of the cavern above. For most of the climb, the falling water was a good three or four paces distant from the cliff - too far for him to duck his head into it while still holding on to the rock face.
Disappointed, he allowed himself to sink back under the surface of the lake. There was no way out.
Then he remembered his enchanted backpack.
Shrugging it off his shoulders, he moved it to his chest, put-ting the shoulder straps on backward and cinching them tight. He opened its main flap. Water rushed into the nondimensional space inside the pack. When it was full - holding the equivalent of perhaps thirty waterskins - he closed the flap. Many of the items the back-pack held would be damaged, but that was a sacrifice that mattered little against his survival.
Valas swam directly under the waterfall, fighting the current with powerful strokes of his tail. The water falling from above thun-dered in his ears and forced him down, but at last he saw a more solid patch of darkness ahead: the base of the cliff. The current slammed him up against the rock before he was ready, but an instant later he found a handhold. To his surprise, he felt claws emerge from the ends of his fingers and thumb that helped him hold on. Muscles straining, he resisted the current that was trying to tear him away from the rock face. Valas began to climb.
The closer he got to the surface, the stronger the pounding of the waterfall became. Twice he slipped and was nearly swept back to the bottom of the lake, but he managed to hang on with one hand. By thrashing his tail, he forced himself back against the cliff each time. At last his head broke the surface.
He heaved himself up, scrambling for handholds and toeholds on the slippery cliff. As he climbed, he held his breath - or rather, held water in his lungs. When at last he could hold it no more, he exhaled through his mouth - a process that felt like vomiting, at least when he was no longer underwater - then he opened the flap of his back-pack and plunged his head inside. He inhaled deeply, then closed the flap and continued to climb.
Gradually he drew near to the tunnel mouth. When he was per-haps a pace or two below its lip, Pharaun peeked out from above. The mage had obviously been alerted by magic to Valas's presence - there was no way he could have heard someone climbing the cliff over the thunder of the falls. The mage was casting a spell.
Valas - to Pharaun's eyes a "monster" rising from the lake - waved a webbed paw in a desperate attempt to fend off whatever magical attack was about to be launched at him. Shaking his head, he pointed to the kukris sheathed at his hip.
Pharaun, oblivious, touched his forefingers to his eyes and flicked them downward, releasing his spell. Valas felt a wash of magi-cal energy tingle through his skin, and he flinched. Flexing his claws still deeper into the crevices to which he clung, he waited for death to take him.
Above him, Pharaun's eyes widened.
Lifting a hand, he signed rapidly,Valas! It is you. What happened?
Sighing water in a trickle over his chin,Valas realized he had been reprieved. Pharaun had recognized him by his kukris, after all - the spell had just been one that allowed him to see through the misshap-en form Valas wore, to confirm the mercenary's identity. He signed one brief word - Wait - and inhaled once again from his bag.
Valas climbed up to where Pharaun crouched, and heaved him-self over the edge into the tunnel. Slipping into the river, he grabbed a rock to hold himself against the current that threatened to carry him over the waterfall.
Quenthel, Danifae, and the hulking Jeggred were all still waiting by the river's edge. The vipers in Quenthel's whip lifted their heads and quivered in alarm as they saw Valas, and Jeggred sniffed the air and bared his teeth, but Pharaun told them that the drow-thing was, in fact, their companion. Danifae stared at Valas with an expression of open disgust, her perfect lips slightly curled, then she turned away.
"Well?" Quenthel demanded. "Did you find the ship of chaos?"
Valas shook his head. Using the silent speech, he told his story, ducking his head