Tome of the Undergates

forwards, pressing her face against his shoulder as she whispered.

‘Yes.’

Thirty

MORE PERSONABLE COMPANY

Lenk held his hand before his face, turning it over.

‘That’s odd,’ he muttered.

‘Hm?’ someone within replied.

‘My skin. . I don’t remember it being grey.’

‘An issue worthy of concern.’

‘And my head. . it feels heavy.’

‘Moderately distressing.’

‘Only moderately?’

‘In comparison to the fact that we’re still alive, I should have added. Apologies.’

‘It’s fine.’ He blinked, lowered his hand to feel the cold rock beneath him. ‘I am still alive, aren’t I?’

‘We are, yes.’

‘Apologies. I forgot you were there.’

‘Think nothing of it.’

‘I thank you. .’ Lenk furrowed his brow. ‘You know, I don’t ever recall you being quite so chatty. Usually, it’s all “kill, kill” with you.’

‘You haven’t really cared to hear what I have to say,’ the voice replied. ‘When one speaks to closed ears, one places a priority on available words.’

‘Point taken.’ He let the silence hang inside his head for a moment. ‘Who are you?’

‘Pardon?’

‘We’ve never been properly introduced.’

‘Is that really necessary at this point?’

‘I suppose not. . but I feel I should know who you are if you’re going to do what you did back in the water.’

‘Excuse that intervention. Things were looking quite grim.’

‘I suppose they were. But there are no worries now.’ He smiled at the familiarity of the satchel beneath his head, the tome safe and supportive within. ‘We have the book. The Deepshriek is gone. It’s over.’

‘It is not.’

The voice was painfully clear and crisp now, as though it was hissing in his ear. He could almost feel its icy breath upon his water-slick skin. And yet, he did not so much as shiver. The chill felt almost natural, as did the presence that settled all around him, within him. It felt familiar, comforting.

And cold.

‘I. . beg to differ,’ he replied. ‘We’re alive. We’ve got a tome and a sword. What else do you need?’

‘Duty. Purpose. Death.’

‘There you go with the “death” thing again-’

‘You think it wise to leave the Deepshriek alive?’

‘No, but I-’

‘You chopped off a head. It has three.’

‘That usually suffices with most people.’

‘That thing is not people.’

‘Point taken.’

‘What of the others? They are weak. . purposeless. Let us lie here if you wish them all to die.’

‘The Deepshriek said-’

‘Three mouths to lie with. . apologies, two now. We should have killed it when we had the chance.’

‘It ran.’

‘We could have pursued.’

‘Through water?’

‘Through anything. It fears us. It fears our blade.’

‘Our blade?’

‘The hand that wields it is nothing without the duty to guide it.’

‘I’m. . not quite up for philosophy at this point. How do we get to the others?’

‘Others?’

‘Kataria. . the others-’

‘Ah. That remains a problem.’

Lenk looked upwards. The stone slab loomed, impassable as ever despite the deep gash that had been rent in its face. A tiny fragment of grey broke off, tumbling down the depression to bounce off the ledge and strike Lenk’s forehead.

‘It’s mocking me,’ he growled.

‘It’s stone.’

‘Have you any idea how to get out?’

‘I do.’

Lenk waited a moment.

‘Well?’

The voice made no reply.

Water lapped against water, against stone. Fire that had shifted from unnatural emerald to vibrant, hissing orange sputtered and growled in the wall sconces. The waves made lonely mutters against the stone wall. Something heavy bumped against the outcropping.

Wait. .

He rolled over and stared into the water, into the golden eyes staring back up at him. He froze momentarily before realising the eyes did not blink, the mouth lay pursed, the golden hair wafted in the waters as the head bobbed up and down with the rhythm of the churning gloom.

Lenk grimaced. He was a moment from turning his gaze away when a hint of movement caught his eye. He leaned over, staring intently at the severed head. The eyes twitched, he felt his heart stop.

Is. . he thought to himself, is that thing. . still alive?

Fingers trembling, he reached down and poked it. It bobbed beneath the waves, then rose again, still staring. Swallowing his fear and his vomit, he seized it by its hair and pulled it out of the water. The eyes twitched, glanced every which way, as if seeking the shark it had been attached to. Its lips quivered, mouthing wordless threats to empty air.

‘Disgusting,’ he said, blanching. He caught an errant glance of himself in the void-like waters, then raised a brow. ‘That’s. . unusual. I don’t really ever recall having-’

‘Time is limited,’ the voice interrupted. ‘We must focus on this newfound gift the Deepshriek left us.’

‘I beg to differ.’

He was prepared to throw it back into the gloom, regardless of the answer, when he heard it. A faint, barely audible sound, as though someone whistled from miles away. Against all wisdom, he drew it closer to his ear.

Wordlessly, an almost-silent breath hissed between its teeth. He turned it over, glancing where its stalk-like neck had been attached. A blackened, bloodied hole stretched from hair to jaw beneath. Air murmured through it, emerging from the creature’s fanged mouth.