Free Tangled Webs by Elaine Cunningham

mercy and honor. Yet Xzorsh spoke of a pledge as something so strong and immutable that his people would regard it with the pride a drow might give an inherited title. Liriel saw several possible explanations for this disparity: either the dark elves had misunderstood the nature of the faerie-or more to the point, had twisted the tales to their purpose-or this Xzorsh was naive beyond belief.
    Either way, she did not know how to respond to Xzorsh’s question. Liriel had no idea what stories the sea elf had heard about drow, but she was willing to wager that they hardly did justice to the evil and treachery that was her heritage. So Liriel merely shrugged and turned her gaze out to sea.
    The sight before her stole her breath. Without a word she dove toward her pile of discarded clothes and weapons. Hrolf had seen it, too. On the dark water, there were twin circles of reflected moonlight. The problem was, the sky held but one moon.
    The captain roared orders to the crew as he lunged for the harpoon rack. He snatched up an enormous bolt of wood and metal and hauled it back for the throw. Before he could hurl the weapon, a long, silvery tentacle whipped forward and snatched it from his hand.
    A spray of dark water exploded upward like a fountain as the creature burst from the waves. Its huge, bulbous head gleamed silver, and countless tentacles churned the water to keep it afloat. Two of the creature’s arms spread wide and slapped against the starboard hull. There was a wet, sickening slurp as hundreds of suction cups found purchase.
    “The eyes!” shouted Hrolf, pointing toward the bulbous orbs, each bigger than a man’s head. “Shoot for the eyes!” A storm of arrows rained toward the creature. Not fast enough. The enormous squid seemed to understand Hrolf’s words, for as soon as he’d spoken, it sank below the waves to protect its vulnerable eyes. It did not loosen its hold on the ship, though, and the vessel rolled sharply to one side as the creature pulled it along. Liriel-along with most of the crew-was thrown to the deck.
    She skidded along the wooden planks and slammed into the lower side of the ship with a force that sent sparkles of pain along her spine. The drow wriggled free of the tangle of sweat-scented limbs and frantically looked around for Fyodor.
    He had somehow managed to keep his footing and was clinging to the mast lines with one hand. His naked black sword gleamed in his free hand, and his booted feet were planted wide on the sloped deck. Despite the danger, he appeared utterly calm. A faint smile curved the young warrior’s lips, and he seemed to take on height and power before Liriel’s eyes.
    The battle fury was beginning.
    Liriel let out a whoop of exhilaration. Fyodor’s berserker rage was wondrous to behold, and she relished the prospect of seeing it unleashed upon a single, easily recognized enemy. He knew the crew now, and at any rate there was little danger that he could confuse a Ruathen fighter with a giant squid. She rolled onto her hands and knees and began the uphill climb to her friend’s side.
    Hrolf, meanwhile, was scrambling up the deck toward the port rail, shouting the names of several others to follow him. The men struggled upward, throwing their weight against the far side in an attempt to balance the faltering vessel. But the giant squid sank still lower, pulling the Elfmaid inexorably along. Frigid water sloshed over the starboard side.
    A probing tentacle reached over the low rail and curled around one of the sailors. The squid lifted its thrashing victim high, then smashed downward into the crew. Again the tentacle arched up. This time the man hung limp in the squid’s grasp. He made an effective bludgeon for all that, and with the second strike the screams of the injured mingled with the groaning protests of the battered ship.
    As the squid raised the man for a third attack, Fyodor’s sword traced a downward arc, cutting the lower end of the mast line free. Clinging