Tome of the Undergates

Nineteen

While all men can lie through their mouths, and a select few have a talent for lying through their eyes, no man can disguise intent evident in his buttocks.

Lenk’s grandfather had said that, or so the young man thought, and while it seemed almost insulting that he would ever find cause to recall such a morsel of wisdom, there was no denying that it was applicable.

Buttocks were firmly entrenched, steeped in tiny sand pits carved of hatred and suspicion. Only Lenk’s glare, perpetually flitting between his companions, kept them seated.

It had taken no small effort to get them there in the first place. After discerning that Kataria and Gariath were well enough, it took the strength of all mortal creatures and the possibility of an impending execution to bring their buttocks to the earth in a circle.

Ensconced between them, like a wiry silver battle line, Lenk kept his sword naked in his lap, eyes darting between his companions and the pale creature across from him.

She was a sight that demanded attention. Her features were human enough, in principle: a face filled with discernible angles, five fingers and toes, though webbed, and a long river of hair, though bright green. Her feathery gills, vaguely blue skin and the crest that occasionally rose upon the crown of her head, however, left the young man’s buttocks clenched with caution.

Yet whenever she spoke, they became uncomfortably loose.

‘I am once again asking for forgiveness.’ Her voice was audible liquid, slithering on ripples into his head and reverberating throughout. ‘Had I known you meant no harm, I would not have used my voice.’

Lenk frowned at that; before now, he hadn’t thought of a voice as a weapon. Before now, he wouldn’t have believed it could be used as one.

‘WHAT’D SHE SAY?’

He cringed at the sound of Kataria as she leaned over and yelled at him.

‘SHE APOLOGISED,’ he shouted back.

‘YEAH, SHE BETTER!’ the shict roared.

‘Apologies, again,’ the female said meekly, ‘the deafness should subside before too long.’

‘WHAT’D SHE SAY?’

‘It’s already been too long,’ Lenk muttered, waving down his companion. ‘For the moment, your apology is accepted.’ At a snort from Gariath, he added, ‘By everyone who matters, anyway.’

‘I suspect we might feel a degree more comfortable if we knew your name,’ Asper offered congenially.

‘As well as knowing whatever the hell you are,’ Denaos added, cocking his head at the female. ‘I mean, how are you even speaking right now?’

‘She has a mouth,’ Dreadaeleon muttered, rolling his eyes.

‘I mean speaking our language,’ the rogue retorted. ‘How does some kind of fish-woman-thing learn to speak the human tongue?’

‘Don’t be crude,’ Asper chastised, turning to the woman sympathetically. ‘You’re more woman than fish, aren’t you?’

‘I. .’ The female appeared to be straining to express befuddlement. ‘I am neither fish nor human, though I have spoken extensively with both in my time.’

‘So you only talk to fish.’ Denaos sighed. ‘This is going to be another of those conversations I’d rather not hear, I can tell.’

‘Then feel free to leave,’ Dreadaeleon snapped. ‘We can accomplish much more without you here.’

‘We could accomplish much more without all of you jabbering like apes.’ Lenk fixed a glower upon the female. ‘All right, then. . we know how you can speak our language, now tell us what you are.’

‘She’s a siren, obviously,’ the boy interrupted.

‘A what?’

‘Impossible,’ Denaos said with a sneer. ‘Sirens are a myth.’

‘Yesterday, so were demons,’ Dreadaeleon pointed out.

‘Demons are a force of pure destruction that want nothing more than to rip us open and eat our innards. It’s easy enough to believe such things could exist.’ The rogue shook his head. ‘Sirens are a legend to explain away navigational errors. Fish-women that lure men to their doom with deadly songs and promises of raucous, violent coitus? Unlikely.’

‘Listening to you,’ Asper sneered, ‘you’d think everything unexplained desired raucous, violent coitus.’

‘I have yet to be proven wrong.’ The rogue’s eyebrow raised appreciatively at the siren. ‘Or have I?’

‘The young lorekeeper refers to the name that humans are comfortable with calling my kind,’ the mysterious female replied fluidly. ‘I have never thought of myself as anything requiring a name, however. I am a child of the deep, born of the Sea Mother and charged to warden her waters and protect her children.’

‘Fine job you’re doing of that,’ Gariath growled, ‘what with the giant demons prowling about.’ He reared up, rising to his feet; buttocks were tensed immediately, but remained in their seats. ‘Why are we even having this conversation? If you weren’t all so stupid, you’d see what she is.’ He levelled a claw accusingly at the crest atop her head and snarled, ‘She’s one of them.’

Lenk supposed the resemblance to the Abysmyth ought to have occurred to him earlier, as did most of his companions. Tensions rose immediately, daggers were drawn, claws were bared, and even Kataria seemed to figure out the dragonman’s accusation accurately enough to nock an arrow. Asper glanced to Lenk, wide-eyed and baffled, but even she seemed to stiffen at the declaration.

Before he could make a move to join or restrain his companions, however, Dreadaeleon acted first.

‘She. . is. . not!’

With barely more than a flicker of his fingers, he was on his feet, propelled by a burst of unseen energy beneath him. And, apparently envisioning himself as a particularly underdeveloped gallant, stepped to intervene between the woman and the dragonman. Quite unlike the vision his stand conjured up, however, the finger he levelled at Gariath, crackling with blue electricity, delivered a much more decisive message.

‘And don’t think I won’t fry you where you stand if you take one more step forwards.’

‘The only thing I don’t think is that there’ll be enough of your treacherous little corpse left to paint the beach with after I’m done with you,’ Gariath snorted, apparently unimpressed.

‘You tried to kill me just today,’ the boy warned, his finger glowing an angry azure. ‘That didn’t pan out so well, did it?’

‘If I had tried to kill you, you’d be dead.’

‘Gentlemen.’ Asper sighed, exasperated. ‘Can we not do this in front of the siren?’ Met with only a snarl and the crackle of lightning brewing, she turned an incredulous gaze to Lenk. ‘Aren’t you going to do something?’

That sounded like a good idea; however much Gariath would like to believe differently, Dreadaeleon’s magic was more than capable of reducing things far larger than a dragonman to puddles.

Lenk’s attention, however, was less on the boy’s finger and more on the rest of him: on the way he stood so confident and poised, on the way his eyes were clear enough to reflect the blue sparks dancing across his hand.

‘You’re using magic again,’ he said, more for his own benefit than the wizard’s.

‘At least someone noticed,’ Dreadaeleon growled.

‘You could barely walk after the crash.’ Lenk leaned forwards, intent on his companion. ‘What happened?’

At the question, the boy seemed to forget his impending evisceration. He lowered his finger, magic extinguished, and beamed a smile at the young man. With all the propriety of an actor, he stepped aside and gestured to the siren, who merely blinked and smiled.

‘She did it,’ he said, ‘with her song.’

Lenk felt his heart quicken a beat. ‘You can heal,’ he whispered, ‘with your song?’

‘It is within my power to soothe.’ She nodded.

His mind quickened to match his heart, a flood of thoughts streaming in. The siren could heal. . no, not heal, soothe. She could soothe Dreadaeleon’s headache, an affliction that no known medicine could cure. She could soothe the mind.

And perhaps, he thought, the voices within it.

‘Sit down.’ He waved a hand at Gariath.

‘What?’ The dragonman growled. ‘Why?’

‘I want to hear what she has to say,’ he replied. ‘Not that I’m promising anything, but if Dreadaeleon believes in her, we should give her a chance.’

‘The little runt came within an inch of betraying us,’ Gariath snorted, ‘and the last thing she said made the shict deaf.’

Lenk tensed himself at the mention of Kataria, not for any anticipation that she might yell again, but for the fact that he suddenly felt her gaze upon him. Glancing from the corner of his eye, for he did not meet her stare directly, he imagined she could be looking at him for any number of reasons: explanation, impatience. .

Or perhaps his suspicions were right and, deaf as she was, those giant ears could still hear his thoughts.

‘If I held attempted murder against everyone in this group,’ he said calmly, looking away from the shict and towards the dragonman, ‘then we’d never get anything done. He’s entitled to at least one attempt on your life for all the times you’ve actively attempted on his.’

The dragonman’s glower shifted about the circle, from the siren to the young man to the boy, then once more around the others assembled. Finally, he settled a scowl upon Lenk.

‘You couldn’t stop me, you know,’ he grunted.

‘Probably not.’ Lenk shrugged.

‘Good. So long as we all understand that.’ He snorted, took a step backwards, settled upon his haunches and scowled at the siren. ‘Talk.’

The female blinked. ‘In regards to. .’

‘Start with your name?’ Asper offered. ‘I believe that’s where we left off before we decided to act like raving psychotics.’

‘I. . I do not have a name, I am afraid,’ she replied meekly. ‘I have never had a use for one.’

‘Everyone needs a name,’ Dreadaeleon quickly retorted. ‘What else would we call you?’

‘Screechy.’ Denaos nodded. ‘Screechy MacEarbleed.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Asper chastised. ‘She needs something elegant. . like from a play.’

‘Lashenka!’ Dreadaeleon piped up, enthused. ‘You remember the tragedy, don’t you? Lament for a King. She looks like the young heiress, Lashenka.’

‘Sounds too close to Lenk.’ The priestess tapped her chin. ‘Were there any other players in it? I never saw it on stage. For that matter, was it any good?’

‘It was. . decent. Nothing too thrilling, but worth the silver spent.’

‘Silver? When did theatre become worth that kind of money?’

‘Well, this particular one had the Merry Murderers, the troupe from Jaharla, and-’

‘Enough.’ Gariath was on his feet again, stomping upon the ground angrily. He snorted, levelling a claw at the siren. ‘Your name is Greenhair. Get on with it.’

‘Greenhair?’ Asper scratched her head. ‘It has a certain charm to it, but I’m not sure that-’

‘Tell me,’ Gariath almost whispered, ‘can you finish that thought with your tongue torn out and shoved in your ear?’

‘I don’t-’

‘Do you want to find out?’ With a decisive snort, he glowered at the siren. ‘Her name is Greenhair. Get on with it.’

‘It’s a fine name.’ Lenk nodded. ‘Just so we’re all on even footing, though, our names are-’

‘There is no need.’ The siren held up a hand while casting a smile at Dreadaeleon. ‘I have been informed, Silverhair, of much of who you are and what you do in the Sea Mother’s domain.’ Her smile broadened. ‘And I expect it is by Her hand that I meet you now.’

‘Rather high praise,’ Lenk muttered. ‘But you said you needed our help.’

‘And I thank you for it.’

‘Save your thanks,’ he replied. ‘I didn’t say we’d give any.’

A smile played across her features. Lenk felt his hand unconsciously resting on his sword; something in the creature’s gaze was unsettling. Absently, his thoughts drifted back to the Abysmyth. This thing expressed as much emotion in a twist of pale blue lips as that thing could not in a cacophony of shrieks.

‘Your. . callings are not unknown to me.’ She did not so much as flinch at his bluntness. ‘You are. . adventurers, yes? And adventurers seek compensation for their trials. Such is the way of the sea. What is given must be earned, what is earned is not easily lost.’

‘If that’s a lot of fancy talk for gold, then I’m interested.’ Denaos eyed the wispy silk she wore. ‘I dare suggest I’d be more than tempted to help you if you planned on showing me wherever you hid it, though.’

‘I have no riches for you, Longleg.’ She shook her hair. ‘What I offer, however, is something more precious than gold. Something you have lost.’

Lenk leaned forwards again. He could sense the word resting on her tongue as a hedonist sensed a tongue resting on something else.

‘I am informed,’ she said, so slowly as to drive him wild, ‘that you seek a tome.’

Buttocks tightened collectively.

Not a single face remained unchanged at the word. Expressions went alight with various stages of greed, hope and anticipation. Even Kataria’s eyes seemed to widen, if only at the simultaneous reaction amongst her companions. Lenk himself could not imagine what his own face must have looked like, but fought to twist it into stony caution nonetheless. The last time someone had mentioned a tome to him, it had led to him and Kataria nearly being slaughtered.

He had since come to treat the word warily.

‘What do you know of it?’

‘What I have been told by the lorekeeper and what I am able to conclude on my own,’ the siren replied. ‘The tome was lost. You, specifically, wish to find it. I am at once filled with joy and sorrow for you.’

Lenk felt his face twitch; good news never began with those words.

‘You don’t know where it is?’ he asked.

‘I know where it is,’ she replied. ‘I have seen much, heard much from the fish before they fled at the presence of the demons.’ As if reading his thoughts through his eyes, she nodded grimly. ‘The two you discovered on the blackened sands were but the sneezes and coughs of a sickness with many, many symptoms.’

He almost loathed to ask. ‘How many?’

‘Many,’ she said simply. ‘They have risen from the depths of the ocean that the Sea Mother has forgotten. They have tainted the waters, as they do all things, and blackened the sea such that no living thing remains between here and their temple.’

Her voice changed suddenly. What had begun as liquid song that slipped through his ears soundless became heavy and bloated, a salt-pregnant wave that seemed to steal the air from the sky as she spoke.

‘The fish shall be the first to flee, being closest to their taint. The birds shall be chased from the sky. The clever beasts shall hide where they can. The brave will die. As will all things that walk upon land. Mortals drown. Sky drowns. Earth drowns. There shall be an unholy wave born of no benevolent tide. Nothing shall remain. . save endless blue.’

Endless blue.

That phrase had passed through fouler lips before. Lenk tightened his grip on his sword, holding it firmly in his hand, but still in his lap. There would be time to dwell on cryptic musings later.

‘Swim to the point, then,’ he growled. ‘What does any of this have to do with the tome?’

‘Consider it a warning,’ she replied, unhurried, ‘passed through all children of the Sea Mother of what shall come to pass if that foul thing of red and black remains in the possession of the demons. It is a reminder of all that the Kraken Queen craves, all that her children seek to return her for.’

‘And the actual location of the tome?’

‘It is. . not here.’

‘Well.’ He slapped his knees with an air of finality. ‘Thanks for that, I suppose.’

‘Not here,’ she continued, undeterred, ‘but close. You are but an hour away from it, in fact.’

‘Now that is helpful.’ Denaos, who had previously been lying on his back and scratching himself, rose to his feet and stretched. ‘Let’s get it and put this whole fish and prophecy business behind us, aye? Screechy here knows where it is.’

‘I do.’ The siren nodded. ‘And I know what guards it.’

Denaos paused mid-stretch, sighed and sat back down.

‘Of course you do.’

Lenk was less rattled. It was rather apparent that the siren would not be telling them this purely for the sake of their aversion to being choked by ooze.

‘What do you want from us, then?’ he asked.

She stared at him without expression, spoke without hatred or fury.

‘I want you to kill, Silverhair.’

That figures.

‘Kill. . what?’

‘I take no great pleasure in asking you, but the plague must be cleansed. The Sea Mother’s dominion must be restored.’

‘So you want us to kill more Abysmyths.’

‘Curb as many symptoms as you can, yes, silence the coughing and the wheezing where necessary. But for a plague of this nature to be cured, the tumour must be cut out.’

Her lips pursed tightly, eyes narrowed as her utterance reverberated through them like a dull ache.

‘You must kill the Deepshriek.’

A moment of silence passed before Lenk sighed.

‘You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?’

‘They. .’ The siren paused, looked at the ground. ‘It. . was once like myself. A child of the deep, a servant of the Sea Mother. . but no longer. Long ago, when the skies were painted red and She still befouled the mortal seas, the Kraken Queen sang to the Deepshriek and the Deepshriek listened. Now. . it is her prophet, the one who shall return its mistress and mother to the waking world.’ She looked back up at Lenk with a swiftness fuelled by desperation. ‘Unless you take the tome back to whatever foul hand it came from.’

Lenk hesitated at that, leaning back and sighing. Frankly, he thought, he could have done with just being told the location of the tome without hearing the inane claptrap of a deranged sea beast. As it was, the temptation of a thousand gold pieces was slowly beginning to lose its lustre.

He suddenly became aware of Kataria sitting next to him, a blank expression on the shict’s face. Leaning over, he yelled.

‘SHE SAID THE TOME IS-’

‘I HEARD WHAT SHE SAID!’ the shict snapped back violently. ‘The deafness wore off ages ago, you stupid monkey.’

‘Oh.’ He smiled meekly. ‘Well, great.’

‘Yeah-’

‘This. . is rather a lot to take in,’ Asper said breathlessly, as though just recovering from some unpleasant coitus. ‘Demons upon demons, tomes and diseases. . it’s hard to decide what to do next.’

‘If you’re an idiot, I suppose,’ Denaos replied. ‘Obviously, we run.’

‘It’s obvious to everyone without a spine, I suppose.’

‘I can guarantee you if we decide to go this route, the only spine you’ll be seeing is your own as some Abysmyth … Deepshriek. . or whatever rips it out and force-feeds it to you.’ He cast a glance about the circle. ‘Listen, I hate to reinforce your beliefs in my cowardice as much as I hate to be forced to be the voice of reason again, but let’s consider a few things.

‘First of all,’ he held up a finger, ‘we can’t harm the Abysmyths and it’s a decent bet we won’t be able to harm something with an even weirder-sounding name. Secondly,’ he gestured over his shoulder towards the carnage at the other end of the beach, ‘someone else seems to have tried to “cleanse” them without much luck.’

‘You speak of the longfaces,’ Greenhair replied.

‘Seems they get around, too.’ Denaos rolled his eyes.

‘I witnessed them. . from afar. I saw the fire and ice they wrought upon the land.’ She leaned back, as though reminiscing fondly. ‘They were tall, powerful, skin the colour of a bruise and eyes the colour of milk. There were many, females all but for one male, the one who slew the Abysmyth with a spear of ice.’

‘I take it these longfaces didn’t take the tome.’

‘No. By that time, the servants of the Deepshriek had taken it into their temple.’

Lenk paused, stared hard at her. ‘What temple?’

She regarded him unflinchingly. ‘I will show you.’

‘Well, that’s. .’ Denaos could not find the words to describe the sight looming before him. ‘That’s. . uh. .’

‘Impressive,’ Lenk muttered.

‘Ominous.’ Dreadaeleon nodded.

‘Vile.’ Asper blanched.

‘Yeah,’ the rogue said, ‘something like that.’

Like the hand of some drowning stone giant, scraping futilely at the sky as he took his final breath, the granite tower rose to claw at the orange clouds above. A plague of algae scarred its great hide, holes riddling its weathered skin like rocky wounds.

Brackish waves licked against the tower’s base, rising and falling to expose the sturdy reef it had been wrought upon. Each time the waves recoiled from the stones, a jagged chorus of rusted spears, blades and spikes embedded in the rocks glistened unpleasantly with the fading sun.

Stomachs writhed collectively as the companions stared upon the impressive mass of impaled corpses in varying stages of decay held fast by the red spikes. Amongst the panoply, a few protrusions impaled incautious sea creatures; many more bore arms with fingers, legs with toes, bodies swaddled by clothing.

Lenk still had trouble believing they hadn’t seen it before. Even ensconced on the far side of the island from where they had crashed, the thing was imposing enough to command attention from miles around.

‘This is their temple,’ Greenhair explained with a shudder. ‘They conduct their rites and sermons within.’ She narrowed her eyes upon the tower. ‘Mortals once lived here, long ago. In those days, they called it “Irontide”.’

‘And they aren’t here any more?’ Asper pointedly turned her head away as the waves recoiled once more. ‘Who. . or what drove them away? The demons?’

‘Other men.’ Denaos spoke before the siren could. ‘Irontide has a rather colourful repute amongst certain circles.’

‘Circles that begin and end in activities I’ve doubtless no pleasure in hearing about,’ the priestess muttered. ‘But do go on.’

‘Fair enough.’ The rogue shrugged. ‘As you probably know, the main export of the Toha Nations is rum, that being the only place in the world the drink’s made. As a result, Toha was quick to extort as much tax gold as they could from other nations desiring the drink. Seeing a profit to be made, pirates were quick to sell illicit barrels of the stuff for far cheaper.

‘Towers of this design,’ he gestured for emphasis, ‘were originally storehouses and protection against the Toha Navy.’ He pointed to the stone-scarred reaches of the tower’s battlements. ‘You can see there what the Navy’s catapults thought of that.’

‘I see.’ Asper swallowed hard. ‘And. . the spikes?’

‘First, they were for protection. Then they were used to make examples.’

‘Disgusting.’ She grimaced. ‘What a vile trick that so many lives should be wasted over a drink that has no purpose but to turn good people into sleazy harlots and swillers.’

‘That’s not entirely fair,’ he replied brusquely. ‘The same, after all, could be said of any faith.’

‘You’re actually comparing a house and faith of the Gods to smuggling?’

‘They seem fairly alike to me. Crime and religion are the only two things that people are willing to both die for and kill over.’

‘Regardless of who lived here for whatever reason,’ Lenk interjected, taking a step forwards, ‘it appears to have new residents.’

It was plain to see what he spoke of.

Plain and gruesome against the setting sun, a flock of feathers and bulbous eyes formed a white and writhing crown atop the giant. They milled about in great numbers, offering glimpses of hooked noses and yellow teeth that chattered endlessly.

‘Omens,’ he muttered.

‘Ah yes,’ Greenhair said coldly, ‘the choir.’

Before Lenk could make any agreement, something caught his eye. At the centre of the huddled mass of parasites, a particularly large white tumour pulsated and writhed. He squinted; though it was larger than anything with feathers had a right to be, he could discern no features. He glanced over his shoulder, beckoned to Kataria.

‘Have a look.’

She nodded, stalking up beside him, and stared long at the tower. The assembled, in turn, stared long at her, expectant as a grimace crossed her face.

‘What is it?’ Lenk dared to ask.

‘I really have no idea.’ Her grimace became a frown as she squinted, trying to find the words. ‘It’s. . big. . like one of the Omens, except. . bigger. I don’t know. . it’s got hands and a face, but. . it’s upside-down, all angular.’ She scratched her head. ‘Well. . hell.’

‘As good a descriptor as any,’ the young man muttered. ‘How many Omens?’

‘At least twenty, though they all move around so much it’s hard to tell.’

‘Scavengers.’ Greenhair’s voice was rife with loathing. ‘They feed on the dead and grow glutted on suffering. What you have seen, Notch-ear, is their. . enlightened form.’

‘Form?’ Asper’s eyes went wide. ‘Omens. . change?’

‘As they feed, yes. They are heralds, after all, and as they change, so too does the Kraken Queen grow in strength.’ She frowned. ‘To see one here, so soon, is. . troubling.’

‘They don’t seem to have seen us,’ Kataria noted.

‘Nor will they, should we keep our distance,’ Greenhair replied. ‘In their smallest form, they are unthinking, oblivious. The greater one is present to ensure that they attack only what they are meant to attack.’

‘A watchdog.’ Lenk nodded. ‘With a pack of flesh-eating seagulls. Makes sense, given the circumstances.’

‘Not to mention a bunch of filthy, corpse-laden spikes,’ Kataria grunted, ‘and, if Omens are heralds, there’re enough of them to suggest quite a few Abysmyths inside.’

‘And that’s where the tome was taken.’ Lenk bit his lower lip, sighed. ‘Lovely.’

‘Lovely, indeed.’ Denaos clapped his hands together. ‘Rusted spikes to skewer us, Omens to eat us afterwards, Abysmyths waiting to tear us apart barring more fortunate fates.’ He giggled, not a little hysterical. ‘If we’re really fortunate, a shark will eat us before we ever set foot on it.’ His giggle became a cackle. ‘No, if Silf truly loves us, he’ll send a lightning bolt to strike us down before we even try.’

At that, he flung out his arms and looked to the sky expectantly. All he received, however, was a stagger forwards as Gariath shoved his way to the front.

‘A death from a weak God for a weak rat,’ he growled, ‘the best you could hope for.’

‘Let’s not get carried away,’ Kataria interrupted. ‘No one, as yet, has said anything about going in.’

‘Of course we’re going in there,’ Denaos snapped. ‘It’s completely brainless, bereft of any logical reason and totally suicidal. Why wouldn’t we go in there?’

‘It does look fairly impenetrable.’ Asper frowned once for the fortress and twice for the fact that she agreed with the rogue. ‘It’s too far to swim without being made into meat for the Omens and I doubt we could get our little boat over there even once we’ve repaired it.’ She squinted. ‘I can’t even see a way in.’

‘There is but one,’ Greenhair said. ‘On the other side, amidst the rocks, there is a concealed opening. Seals slumbered by it before the Deepshriek desecrated this place.’

‘Regardless,’ Lenk muttered, ‘there’s no way to reach it alive. If we aren’t dashed against the spikes by a wave, the Omens will gnaw us to pieces.’

‘Not necessarily.’ Dreadaeleon scratched his chin. ‘I mean, watchdogs aren’t the brightest things in the world. Toss a piece of meat out and you can sneak by one, easily.’ He glanced to Denaos. ‘I suspect you’d probably know more about that than I would, though.’

‘You want to distract them?’ The rogue scoffed. ‘You plan to strip naked, smear yourself with faeces and do the jolly Omen mating dance?’ He paused, tapped his cheek thoughtfully. ‘That might work.’

‘Hm. . I’m not sure,’ the boy replied, oblivious. ‘I might be able to do something about it, though. They’re scavengers, right? Gluttons?’ At a nod from Greenhair, he glanced out to sea. ‘So, if they are anything like watchdogs, they’re probably attracted to blood. In that case, all we need to do is turn the water from blue to red.’

‘Oh, is that all?’ Denaos sneered.

‘It’s not too difficult. In fact, with a glamer, it should be rather easy. . in theory.’

‘Nothing with magic is ever easy, in theory or in practice, ’ Denaos replied. ‘And what in Silf ’s name is a. . glamer, anyway?’

‘Glamer,’ Dreadaeleon said, ‘from the word “glimmer”. It’s just a small spectromancy spell, one of the lesser schools. It works on the theory of bending light to produce an image.’ He held up a finger. ‘To wit.’

His hand danced in front of his face for a moment, a brief murmur expulsed from his lips. His skin shimmered, blinked, then distorted and when he turned back to the companions, he had full lips, long eyelashes and delicate angles. He batted his eyes and gave a demure giggle.

‘Just like that,’ his voice was a sharp contrast to his new face, ‘except on a larger, more distant scale.’

‘That’s. . actually not a bad idea.’ Lenk nodded appreciatively. After an unbearably long moment, he coughed. ‘So, uh, are you going to stay that way or. .’

‘Oh, right.’ The boy waved a hand and returned his face to his own with another, equally feminine giggle. ‘Well, I would just lose my own face if it weren’t laced on.’

‘Right. . anyway, never say or do anything you did in the last few breaths ever again.’

‘We don’t need magic,’ Gariath growled suddenly. ‘We don’t need cowards, either.’ He thumped a fist against his chest. ‘We go in. We kill them as they come. We get the stupid book.’

‘It’s all so easy.’ Asper rolled her eyes. ‘If we conveniently go insane and forget the fact there are Gods know how many frogmen and Abysmyths in there. Factoring in the Deepshriek, I’d love to believe that we could make it in, I really would, but I doubt it.’ The waves receded, exposing the decaying buffet of flesh. ‘I severely doubt it.’

‘But it is not impossible,’ Greenhair protested. ‘I have heard the lorekeeper. He has told me much of what you have faced and fought before! He has told me the bravery of adventurers.’

‘He lied,’ Denaos spat. ‘Practicality dictates adventure, not bravery. Besides,’ he sniffed, ‘you’re not the one to risk your head getting eaten.’

‘Don’t disrespect her,’ Dreadaeleon snapped. ‘She can help us.’

‘With what? Singing lessons? Unless she can hold you down while I pound sense into your pudgy head, she’s useless to us.’

‘My head isn’t pudgy.’ The boy’s eyes flashed. ‘But my brain. . is HUGE!’

‘Big enough to come up with a better idea?’

Lenk glanced at the rogue. ‘Can you?’

‘As a matter of fact, I can.’ Denaos puffed up, ready to explode with self-satisfaction. ‘As much as I’d love to recommend running away, I do like getting paid. Obviously, though, charging into a tower that is both ready to collapse and brimming with demons isn’t a good idea in any language.’ He shrugged. ‘So, why not just wait?’

‘Wait.’

‘Wait.’ He nodded. ‘They’ll come out, eventually, to do what demons do. Or we lure them out. Either way, we ambush them, take the book and then run away.’

‘That’s. . not completely bad,’ Asper conceded. ‘They can’t stay in there for ever, can they? If they plan to do something with the tome, they’ll likely bring it out eventually. ’

‘I suppose that passes for genius amongst humans,’ Kataria sneered. ‘Leave the book in the hands of demons and wait to see what they do with it? You stupid monkey.’

‘And how do you plan to saunter your mighty shicty self in?’ Asper snapped back. ‘Are you going to swim in and hope they think your huge ears jutting from the waters are just a white fish with two fins?’

‘Miron,’ she poked the priestess hard, ‘your almighty lord and master, said himself that we can’t leave the tome in their hands.’ Her ears twitched threateningly. ‘And, frankly, your ear-envy is just sickening.’

‘EAR-envy?’

‘Miron isn’t the one risking everything.’ Denaos stepped up beside the priestess.

‘And you would risk anything?’ Gariath’s laugh was a derisive rumble as he loomed over the man. ‘Your eyes and breeches both go moist at the first sign of trouble. The Rhega spit in the eyes of death and demons.’

‘Oh, it’s not my death I’m afraid of,’ the rogue hissed, ‘I’m utterly terrified of the idea that you and I will both die and I’ll have to share my heaven with some scaly, smelly reptile.’

‘There is no heaven for rats,’ Gariath snarled, shoving the rogue. ‘They get tossed on the trash heap and rot in a hole.’

‘ENOUGH!’ Kataria’s cry temporarily skewered the argument. As an uneasy silence descended, she glanced towards Lenk, staring absently across the sea. ‘And what do you say? You’re the one who usually chooses between bad ideas.’

‘Oh, is that what I do?’

He had no more words, only eyes, and they were fixated upon the fortress. The sun was dying at the horizon, descending into a blue grave, and the impending darkness seeped into his thoughts.

One Abysmyth, he reasoned, was invincible. It was a vicious brute capable of ripping people apart and drowning them on dry land, sometimes inflicting both on the same person. The fact that there was more than one had seemed a nightmare too horrifying to contemplate earlier that day.

The fact that there were more than two, discounting how many multitudes of frogmen and Omens accompanied them, was too horrifying not to contemplate.

In light of that fact, all plans seemed equally insane, save the unspoken idea of just turning around and leaving.

And yet, he thought, not even Denaos has suggested leaving. .

Further, he had entered a contract; not just an adventurer’s agreement, but a contract, penned and sealed with promises. He had sold his word to Miron Evenhands, for one thousand pieces of gold.

A man’s word, no matter how expensive it might be, is the only thing of any real worth a man can give.

His grandfather had told him that, he was certain.

Don’t forget, though, that honour and common sense are mutually exclusive.

His grandfather had also said that.

‘Lenk?’

He felt Kataria prodding him, breaking his reverie.

‘I. .’ he inhaled dramatically and his companions held their breath with him, ‘am hungry.’ He sighed and so did they. ‘And tired.’

With that, he turned from the fortress and began to trudge away. They watched him for a few moments before Denaos spoke up.

‘What? That’s it?’

‘Night is falling,’ he replied. ‘If I’m going to my death, it can wait until I’ve had dinner.’