Free The Deep Gods by David Mason Page B

more time.”
    “The Morra-ayar call to us, to bring you,” the dolphin said. “They say there is little time left. And others know of you, man, some who are not your friends.”
    Daniel turned and took a step toward the shore. He saw Ammi waiting, her face calm as she watched.
    She’d want to go on, of course, he thought. But there’s so much to do here, still. He began to walk shoreward.
    Then, a violent blow struck him in the small of the back; a flurry of splashing water erupted and he felt his leg seized in a clamping grip. He was dragged down, water blinding him as he realized that the dolphin had shot forward and seized him. He was underwater now, out in the deep river and going deeper every moment; he had had no time to breathe a full lung of air beforehand. Darkness closed upon him.

Chapter IV
     
    He was almost flying through the dark water, a crest of spray on each side; the inexorable grip holding his ankle and drawing him along. Briefly, he managed to draw a deep breath of air, just before he was drawn down under the rushing water. His lungs held that draught, minute after dizzying minute; then his head broke the surface again, briefly.
    For a moment, as Daniel gulped air, he could glimpse the shining backs of other dolphins racing beside his captor. There was distant shouting on the river bank, cut off as he was pulled under once more.
    The dolphins swam on, still at the same racing speed, on down the twisting length of the river. Each time Daniel’s lungs began to ache for air, his captor rose long enough to let him renew his breath, then dived again. He did not struggle; there was obviously no use in attempting to escape. But as he was dragged along, he ground his teeth in fury, helplessly.
    Now they were in the surf, moving out into the deeper salt sea. The group of dolphins swam more slowly now, and Daniel was allowed to coast along, his head above the swell. He could see the shoreline, farther away with each moment
    Then the grip relaxed and he floated free. The dolphins moved around him in a circle, blunt noses and grinning faces above the dark water. He trod water and stared at them.
    “It was necessary,” one of them said, its voice humming in the sea about him.
    “Why?” Daniel snapped. “I would have come when I was ready!”
    “The Morra-ayar say the time is coming, soon, man,” the dolphin voice came. Another joined it.
    “Our brothers in the other sea,” it said in an oddly regretful tone. “They have brought their land folk to take you. They are near, seeking you. Look, over there.”
    On the grey line of the horizon, something showed, like a tiny erect needle of black. And another, near it… a mast, Daniel realized suddenly. He floated, gazing at it.
    “Ships and men,” a dolphin said. “Men of Esmare, with weapons, many of them.”
    Daniel twisted in the water, glaring at the circle around him.
    “Let me go!” he cried out. But they were silent.
    Ammi, he thought in sudden agony. But the dolphins would obviously not let him go. He thrust down his fury with an effort of will, and tried to remain calm.
    “Where do you want me to go with you?” he demanded. “I’m not of your kind. I could drown here in the sea.”
    “We know,” one of them said. “We shall take you, riding on our backs. It is not far to the Great Place…” And he made an odd, bell-like sound, a word that came to Daniel like “Ringongong.”
    One of the creatures slid, with neat precision, under him, lifting him; the group swam swiftly on, out toward the open sea.
    Time passed. Daniel’s skin began to burn from the salt; his hands grew weary, gripping the smooth wet back. His mind worked, calculating the distance they had come. His anger had turned to an icy, controlled fury now, held in control by a powerful effort of will. There was no use in resisting, not now, but he would watch and wait.
    Then he saw something ahead—rocky crags, lifting above the sea. There were several of them, none more than