Tome of the Undergates

‘But down here,’ it gurgled, ‘only Mother will hear you.’

The creature’s mouth went wide, flesh creaking with the effort of its jaws as it bared rows of jagged teeth glistening with saliva.

‘Let your end be a blessing to you.’

‘Fight back.’

It struck Lenk as odd that he should feel guilty for disappointing the voice, odd that he should feel so guilty for clubbing an impotent fist against the creature’s emaciated limb. After all, there were surely worse things than failing a hallucination.

‘Fight!’

Too little strength, too close to the jaws, he realised. He could do nothing but stare, his scream choked in his throat, as the creature’s eyes rolled back into its head, the gaping oblivion of its mouth looming before him.

‘DROP HIM!’

The scream was distant in Lenk’s ears, as were the cries that followed: shrieks of horror, open-mouthed pleas for someone not to be heroic.

Someone, a man whose name Lenk had never known, burst from the press of flesh like a two-legged horse, a long fishing pike clenched in his skinny hands. His roar was more for his own sake than the monstrosity’s, trying to convince himself of his own bravery through sheer volume.

‘With me, boys,’ he howled, ‘we need no heathen adventurers to save us!’

Lenk fell from the monster’s grip, suddenly seized by hands about his shoulders as soon as he hit the ground. He glanced up, noting the glint of green eyes and gold hair through his still-swimming vision. A smile tried futilely to worm itself onto his face.

‘Kataria,’ he groaned.

‘Shut up,’ she snarled back as she pulled him into the relative safety of the crowd.

His throat aching, he had little choice but to obey. He looked back towards the creature and saw the sailor standing before it, unflinching, unmoving, as he drove the pike through the wisp of flesh that served as the creature’s belly. There was the sound of flesh tearing, sinew splitting as the metal head came bursting through the creature’s back.

Gariath seized the momentary distraction, reaching up to grab the creature’s ankle. With a snarl, he threw the massive webbed foot up and leapt from his half-finished coffin. Splinters jutted from his flesh, weeping gouts pooling at his feet. If he was in agony, he did not show it.

The creature did not fall, but swayed. It did not shriek, but hummed contemplatively. It did not look at the man with scorn, but with nothingness, a strange sort of curiosity that was something between annoyance and sheer befuddlement.

‘A mistake.’ it uttered. ‘Your rage at your uncaring Gods drives you to strike at your saviour. Do you repent?’

The man staggered backwards, lips mouthing a wordless prayer.

‘Then let salvation be done,’ the creature said.

What composure it had lost was regained in an instant as it rose tall and erect to glance at the pike’s shaft jutting from its belly. With no sound but that of its own flesh being mangled, the creature wrapped a claw about the handle and tore it free, sending meaty black blobs plopping to the deck.

‘And thus is my part written. I am here to make wide your error, your false hope.’

There was a sucking sound, as of a foot being pulled from mud, and the creature’s gaping wound began to quiver. Slowly, the flesh groaned, reaching out with frayed edges to seal itself in a grotesque slurp of sinew.

‘What the. .’ The sailor was breathless, taking another step backwards. ‘What. . what in the name of Zamanthras are you?’

Like a black, rubbery tentacle, the creature’s arm shot out to seize the sailor about his head, claws sinking into his cranium as it held the sailor aloft. The man shrieked, kicking about madly, clawing at the creature’s webbed hand, writhing in its unquivering grip.

‘I am,’ it gurgled ominously, ‘mercy.’

The sailor’s screams died as the beast’s claws twitched. With agonising slowness, cloudy, viscous ooze dripped from trembling fingers. The crowd took up their fellow’s screams as the slime continued to pour from the creature’s hand, coating his head and face to his shoulders. Like a rabbit caught in a trap, the kicking of the sailor’s legs slowly died, his thrashing silencing.

In moments, a hunk of breathless meat dangled from the creature’s grip, like a condemned prisoner from the gallows, wearing a mask of viscous sludge. The echo of his corpse hitting the deck carried for an eternity.

‘A better place, a better dream, free of your uncaring Gods. This is Ulbecetonth’s gift to you.’ Its voice was a whisper, could almost have sounded tender if not for the boiling bile in its throat. ‘Sleep now. . and dream of blue.’

Even the murmur of the waves had fallen silent, the sea losing its frothy voice as it bore witness to the horrors occurring upon its surface. All present on the ship shared its sentiment, every man breathless, every woman speechless, not so much as a gull to break the choking quiescence. None present dared even a frightened sob, none heard a single sound.

None save Lenk. His eyes were locked on the man’s corpse, this sailor he had never met, whose name he had never known, whose death would never be explained to his widow’s satisfaction. His eyes were fixed, his ears were full.

‘Needless. Wasteful. Would still be alive if you had killed.’

‘He’s dead,’ Lenk uttered.

‘Because of you.’

‘Shut up, Lenk,’ Kataria urged, squeezing his shoulder. ‘It’s going to hear-’

Her voice died as two empty eyes rose up. It had heard.

‘Curious,’ the creature gurgled, as if suddenly aware of the presence of the crew and adventurers, ‘what strange vermin swim upon the seas.’

The answer it was offered was subtle, barely more than a whisper. In the wake of sound, however, it began to carry, it began to swell like the waves that had fallen impotent. For the first time in the horrific eternity that began when the creature had risen, eyes managed to blink as they tore themselves away to spy out the source of the new sound that filled their ears.

They parted before Miron like human waves, allowing the priest to stride between them with noiseless steps. The wind rose in his wake, causing his robes to whip about him, as if to silence his quickly growing voice. He spoke louder in response, his chant a series of prayers wrought from words too pure for any present to understand. He raised his hand to the monstrosity, his faith challenging nature and shadow with the gesture.

‘No.’ The creature’s voice was breathless, like a mewling kitten. Its eyes grew wider as it stared at Miron as its victims had stared at it. ‘Cease your pitiless wails! Silence your mourning, vermin! I have no ears for it!’

Miron was not silent.

The chorus of feathered creatures was the first to scream. They erupted in a cacophony of noise and flapping feathers, leaping, tumbling, tearing from their perches upon railings and rigging. The sky was painted white, men falling to the deck as great white curtains of ripping, frenzied feathers fell over the ship.

Miron was heedless.

Every breath the priest took seemed to cause him to grow. His presence grew brighter, the whites of his robes suddenly blinding, the fall of his feet causing the deck to quake. His chant became thunder, every word a bolt of lightning, every syllable a crackle of purpose. None dared to stop him, to pull him back as he drew closer to the monstrosity. They fell away, as terrified of him as they had been of the creature.

The creature’s jaws tore open as it let out a terrible, unearthly howl that carried the sounds of a thousand drowned voices. Miron did not relent, his chant rising in volume to match the monster’s scream as he continued to advance towards the abomination. The creature’s claws clutched its skull as it backpedalled on trembling legs, shrieking in agony as it shook its head about angrily. The priest continued forth, his chant a bellowing chorus of alien phrases, his face a mask of wrath as he drew closer, his symbol raised like a shield, his voice a weapon.

Driven to the wind, the chorus disappeared from the ship, becoming clouds as they swiftly disappeared into the blue upon shrieks of terror and agony.

The foul beast itself let out one last, agonised howl and turned, breaking into an ungainly sprint as it loped