Overlord

28

Digby O’Donnell worked his way deeper into the realms of the persistent voice. He knew he was descending, and cared little for how far he might be led, as long as the mystery of the voice revealed itself in the end. He held the glowing idol close to his chest, hugged against him like he protected it, and followed its insistent pull. The skin of his hands blistered and peeled, but he paid no mind to the pain.

The whispering cajoled him, sometimes muttering his name, sometimes words of a language mysterious and barbed. He longed to understand the things that sounded like gibberish, he knew great knowledge lay in those entreaties, but they meant nothing to him. His frustration grew.

Tiredness dogged every step, sleep tugging at the edges of his consciousness. He should stop, rest. When was the last time he slept? No matter, there were more important things than sleep, even if exhaustion did make his vision blur. He staggered, tripping on the uneven ground, and went heavily onto one knee. Pain barked up his leg from the impact, but he held the idol tight. As he sucked in a breath and stood again, his mind seemed to shatter and escape his body. He cried out, sudden disorientation making him nauseated, then he saw another passage, as though looking through someone else’s eyes. Or something else. The vision was clearer than any snippet he had sensed before, then it fractured into dozens of repeats, a kaleidoscopic view of swirling imagery. He drew in breath again, tried to process what he saw, and the pictures in his mind changed, then changed again, rapid variations. He saw dark tunnels, scant bits of green light, barely noticeable to human eyes, but painful to this view. More than enough for him to scurry along, trying to find the peace and comfort of darkness. He hated the light, no matter how faint, every striation of bright green like a tiny pinprick to his eyes.

Dig realized he now saw through the eyes of the creatures. The mantics. He leaped from one to the next to the next, seeing what they saw, feeling their stresses, their drives. As the realization dawned the process increased, clearer than ever, like flipping from one television channel to another, ever more rapidly. Through the eyes of one, then another, and then another, he traveled at great speed along the tunnels, even as his body stumbled and staggered along, as if of its own accord.

And then he saw a dull, green glow approaching, and realized it was himself, carrying the idol. Through numerous other eyes, he watched a kaleidoscope of Digs tripping and jogging through the darkness. As he approached himself, the brightness of the idol became too much and the creatures closed their eyelids and turned their heads away.

Dig became at once himself and the creatures, he sensed them lurking nearby, so many of them, but knew also their reluctance to draw near the idol. In snatched glimpses he watched himself pass by, protected by his treasure, and sensed himself go deeper, ever toward that other presence.

Then that presence became a pressure in his mind, a force of unknowable puissance. And he realized he only perceived the edge of it, as if just nudging the very tip of something too massive to comprehend. Yet he was also somehow a part of it. Could he share its thoughts and sensations like he shared those of the mantics all around him? Did he dare?

He reached out with his mind, seeking, and for a split second became aware of inconceivable age, of omnipresence. He was deep beneath waters of emerald green. A Jade Sea. Somehow he knew that was the proper name for the place. And then the presence turned its attention to him and he screamed. Too much, overwhelming. Howling, he felt himself falling, and everything went black.