Sam Sykes - Tome of the Undergates

‘Is that really intelligent?’

She resisted the urge to whirl about before she could wipe the tears from her eyes. Dreadaeleon appeared concerned as he saw her purpling cheek and reddening hand, though not quite as horrified as she thought he should.

‘What happened to you ?’

‘Fight,’ she grumbled, ‘nothing much. Learned something. . I don’t know. Gariath hit me.’

‘Oh.’

In civilised countries, there would be a call to arms over a man striking a woman. In the quaint culture of adventurers, bludgeoning tended to be more on the unavoidable side of things.

‘It. . hurts?’ Greenhair was not far behind the boy, tilting her head curiously at the priestess, whose eyelid twitched momentarily.

‘Oh, not at all,’ Asper replied. ‘Having my hand smashed and my jaw cracked seems to have evened out into a nice state of being in searing pain. Of course it hurts, you imbecile! ’ Wincing at her own snap, she held up a hand, wiggling red fingers. ‘It doesn’t seem to be broken. . I should be fine.’

‘I could assist, if you so desired, Darkeyes.’

Asper had to force herself not to recoil at the suggestion.

She had felt the siren’s song before, when the creature had offered her aid in treating the companions’ injuries. The priestess thanked Talanas that hers were the least serious. The lyrics were more invasive than a scalpel, going far beyond her ears and sinking into her bones. Though she felt bruises soothed and cuts cease their sting, she was forced to fight the urge to tear herself open in a desperate bid to force the song out.

Bandages and salves were slower and sloppier, but they were natural and Talanas’s gifts to His servants. They’re at least a sight more trustworthy than whatever some fish-woman-thing can spew out , she thought resentfully. Instead of saying that, however, she merely forced a smile.

‘I’ll take care of it,’ she replied with a sigh. ‘It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do while the real warriors are off. . warrioring.’

‘Warring,’ Dreadaeleon corrected.

‘I knew that, you little. .’ She trailed off into incoherent mumbling as she began to trudge away. ‘It just needs a splint, a bit of binding. It’ll fix itself in a bit.’

‘You didn’t break it, did you?’

‘First of all, I already said it wasn’t broken.’ She whirled on him with a snarl. ‘And if anyone did break it, it would be Gariath.’

‘He hit your hand?’ The boy raised an eyebrow. ‘That seems a tad indirect.’

‘He broke it when I hit him in the mass of metal he calls a chest.’

‘Well, no wonder he hit you.’

‘He told me to hit him!’ she roared. ‘And what kind of logic is that, anyway? His fist is the size of my head! How is that at all justified?’

‘Oh. . um, are you being irrational?’ The boy cringed. ‘Denaos said this might happen while he was gone. And, I mean, you couldn’t have been thinking too clearly to have actually thought hitting Gariath was a good idea.’

‘I could clear your mind, Darkeyes,’ Greenhair offered with a smile, ‘if you so wished.’

She affixed a scowl to both of their heads, her only wish being that she could replace her eyes with a sturdy quarterstaff. Her rage only intensified as they turned, with infuriating symmetry, to look at Irontide, pausing to exchange an encouraging smile.

There was a time, she thought irately, when Dreadaeleon would have withered under her glare. Now, even the scrawniest creature posing as a man put up a defiant face against her. And at that thought, her heart sank into a foetid pool of doubt.

Am I truly so weak , she asked herself, that I can’t even intimidate him?

It would seem so. He stood tall upon the shore, taller than ever before. He stood uncrippled by his previous malady; A malady that only I could cure. Up until now , she added, scowling at Greenhair. Beside her, he stood erect, proud and completely oblivious to her best attempts to gnaw on his face with scornful eyes.

‘Look at that.’ He gestured to Irontide with insulting casualness. ‘She. . it? Whatever hasn’t stopped moving since dawn.’

Asper glanced up and frowned. It was difficult to maintain her anger at the sight of Irontide’s crown; another more loathsome sensation crept over her.

The greater Omen skulked up and down the lines of its lesser parasitic kin like a general inspecting its troops. Of course, Asper admitted, there was no way to tell if the creature was even looking at the others; they were much too far away to make out even the barest detail of features besides the creature’s size.

And yet, the revulsion it emanated was tangible even from the shore. Everything about it was horrible: its ungainly gait, its bobbing head, its messy, angular body. Asper admitted with momentary unabashedness that she would much prefer it to remain far away.

Of course , she thought with a frown, Gariath wouldn’t even hesitate to get up and tear its wings off. . Are those wings or hands?

‘Fascinating, isn’t it?’

Her frown became a deep gash across her face; it appeared that someone else wasn’t at all bashful about the creature’s presence, either.

‘All those Omens,’ Dreadaeleon gestured out to the tower, ‘standing perfectly still.’

‘It’s not like they’ve got anything else to do,’ Asper grunted.

‘They are the vermin of hell, Lorekeeper,’ Greenhair agreed. ‘They bear not the gifts of thought and heart.’

‘We know that much, certainly. But look, they aren’t moping about.’ He glanced at Asper. ‘Recall that, whenever we’ve found them separated from an Abysmyth. . or should I say their Abysmyth, they’ve always looked addled, distraught.’

‘We’ve only seen that happen once,’ Asper replied.

‘Twice — Gariath said they were acting in such a way when he was disposing of them.’ He paused, licked his lips. ‘I guess I wouldn’t know for certain, though, since apparently no one noticed he had left me for dead at that point.’

‘Perhaps you should thank him.’ She forced acid through her grumble. ‘After all, you found fine company in a sea-trollop. ’

‘Trollop?’ Greenhair tilted her head. ‘That is. . what you call a shellfish, yes?’

‘It’s some manner of fish, all right,’ Asper seethed.

‘ As I was saying ,’ Dreadaeleon interrupted with a snarl far too fierce for his frame, ‘these particular Omens don’t seem at all bothered by the fact that there isn’t an Abysmyth in sight.’

‘I can appreciate that feeling.’

‘As can we all.’ Dreadaeleon nodded. ‘But consider the events of this morning when I lured them away with my glamer.’

Asper nodded grimly, remembering the situation all too vividly.

The larger parasite had reacted swiftly, hurling itself off the tower with a piercing wail. Echoed by its lesser kin, the shriek tainted sky and sea as they descended in a stream of white feathers and bulbous eyes upon the illusory blood-stain Dreadaeleon had cast upon the sea.

She winced, recalling the even louder scream when they discovered it was false. Far too late to even notice Lenk and the others slipping in, they had simply returned to the battlements, where they now roosted.

‘They followed the big one,’ Asper muttered, ‘like ducklings following their mother.’

‘I was going to compare them to lemmings, but your analogy might be better.’ Dreadaeleon grinned. ‘At any rate, the greater Omen seems to act as a substitute for the Abysmyths, if you will, giving orders in place of them.’ He tapped his cheek thoughtfully. ‘Though they don’t seem that much brighter than the small ones, do they?’

‘Not especially, no.’ She glanced at him. ‘I suspect you have a reason for thinking about this?’

‘While knowledge is its own reward, I do. If the big one gives the orders, then it stands to reason that we can effectively render all those little ones a moot issue.’ He extended a single finger out towards the tower, aiming it at the greater Omen, and grinned. ‘Zap.’

‘That’s. . actually not bad.’ Asper felt slightly frustrated at having to compliment the boy, but nodded appreciatively regardless. ‘Cut off the head and the body falls. If it was that simple, the way for Lenk and the others would be clear.’

‘Right.’ Dreadaeleon nodded. ‘If they come out.’

‘ When they come out,’ she snapped. Turning back to the tower, she bit her lower lip. ‘The trick, then, would be to kill the big one before it could reach them.’ She glanced him over appraisingly. ‘Could you hit it from here?’

‘If I could, I would have done so.’ He shook his head. ‘No, I’m assuming that Lenk is a quick enough swimmer that he could draw it close enough for me to plant a lightning bolt in its face.’

‘Lightning-’

‘It’s the only thing accurate enough to hit from such a distance.’

‘Of course. . you realise that lightning and water aren’t precisely the best of friends.’

‘Well. . I mean, yeah.’ He straightened up. ‘Of course I know that. If I can figure out how to throw lightning out of my damn hands, I can figure out that .’ He cleared his throat, attempting to maintain his composure. ‘Naturally, there might be some collateral damage, but-’

‘There is no good way for you to end that thought.’

‘Listen, the overall objective is to get the tome, isn’t it?’ He glanced to Greenhair, who offered a weak nod. ‘Right, so, even if something does go wrong, so long as we can remove the greater Omen as a threat, we can fish the tome out of the water at our leisure.’ He turned a nervous glance to Asper. ‘Or rather, you could.’

‘What?’ Her tone was teetering between incredulous and furious.

‘It’s only fair. I’m the one who has to kill the thing.’

‘That wasn’t. .’ Her pain and words alike were lost in a sudden flood of anger driven by a storm of righteous indignation. ‘You’re talking about our friends, our companions, dying .’

‘I. .’ His words failed him as he shook, turning a grimace towards Greenhair, who offered nothing but a concerned glance. ‘I mean, I thought we always did that.’

‘We don’t talk about murdering each other ,’ she roared. ‘These are our friends, your friends, dying by your hands.’

‘First of all,’ he mustered a new semblance of confidence in a growl, ‘I said there might be collateral damage.’ He offered a weak smile, a crack in his facade. ‘And, I mean, that would be totally inadvertent, so, it’s really more like dying by my finger.’

Whatever rage might have boiled inside her was not shown on her face. Rather, as though water had been poured over her, she hardened and grew cold, regarding him through an even, unquivering scowl.

‘You make jokes. . about murdering them.’

‘Why are you getting upset at me for being pragmatic?’ He shifted, unsure as to whether he should puff up or back down. ‘You never get this upset at any of the others.’

‘They can’t be helped! You-’ She moved forwards, both fists clenched and ready to strike him in spite of the pain in her right hand. Her face clenched harder, finding it very difficult to summon a reason not to. ‘You. .’ With a sigh, she reached out and gave him a shove. ‘Damn it, Dread. You’re supposed to be the good one.’

He collapsed onto his rear.

Whether it was because he had been rendered stunned by her words or because she had seen him shoved over by toddlers before, she didn’t stop to think. And when he stared at her through an unblinking mask of flattery and confusion, she did not smile.