Tome of the Undergates

Gods. The Abysmyth is but the servant of another servant.’ He let out a breathless whisper. ‘And those first servants were the Aeons.’

‘Aeons,’ Asper whispered breathlessly, her eyes brimming with a realisation she could not bring herself to voice.

‘The very same whose gate we seek,’ Miron said with a nod.

‘You son of a whore,’ Lenk growled. ‘You’ve had us seeking a gate that will let more of those things out?’

‘Please, allow me to finish-’

‘Why?’ Gariath rumbled from the corner. He approached the table, the furniture trembling with each thunderous step. ‘I smelled that thing. I know that it is nothing good. And you’re looking for the gate to let whatever created it out.’ He levelled a clawed finger at Miron. ‘We’d be better off crushing his head right now.’ He turned to Lenk and snorted. ‘Say the word and I’ll paint the wood with his face.’

‘How dare you!’ Asper roared, pushing her chair back as she leapt to her feet. ‘Even to utter such a threat is-’

‘And I’ll use your scalp to paint it!’ Gariath’s roar silenced hers as he unfurled his wings. ‘Stupid humans,’ he growled. ‘Only you would defend a man who seeks such a-’

‘There is no evidence that he seeks such a creature,’ Dreadaeleon protested, rising up to stand beside Asper. ‘He’s simply informing us of past events and, were you not so allergic to knowledge, you would know that-’

‘That what?’ Denaos interjected. ‘That he’s the one who brought it onto the ship in the first place? Don’t be stupid. If that thing serves other things called Aeons, then it only stands to reason that-’

‘To hear you calling for an end to stupidity is nearly hysterical.’ Kataria forced a laugh to emphasise the point. ‘I say “nearly” because it’s far more annoying than funny. Now, why don’t you just shut up and let him finish and we’ll-’

The sound of wood cracking interrupted her as Gariath brought his fists down hard upon the table.

‘I will not sit here and let another creature like that come and do what it did again!’

‘So that’s it?’ Asper snapped. ‘You’re just upset that you couldn’t kill that thing?’

‘Anything that Gariath can’t kill is reason enough to worry,’ Lenk countered hotly. ‘Need I add that neither he nor I nor a spear to its gut was enough to kill it? So why don’t you just-’

‘STOP!’

A voice not his own burst from a mouth that seemed to stretch too widely. The howl was heard throughout the ship and the waters beyond. The fish swarming the floating dead departed, all thoughts of food forgotten at the sound. Men fell to the deck in fear and even the moon seemed to grow a little dimmer.

Below, Miron regained his composure with a deep inhalation, as all eyes widened and all mouths shut.

‘I shall hear no accusations,’ he said calmly. ‘Not until I have said my piece.’ He took a sip of tea, looking over the edge of his cup. ‘Any further objections?’

No one dared offer any.

‘Delightful.’ He smiled. ‘As I said, by the time the Aeons had wrought the height of their woe upon mortalkind, they could no longer be called servants of the Gods. As such, a new name was crafted for them.

‘Demons,’ he said quietly. Slowly, he swept his gaze about the table, challenging anyone to enquire.

Lenk answered it.

‘I find myself wondering whether you’re madder than I thought you were, Evenhands,’ he said coldly. ‘Demons. . do not exist.’

‘There’s no evidence for it,’ Dreadaeleon agreed.

‘Mossud might beg to differ,’ Argaol muttered.

‘There’s no reason for it,’ the wizard countered. ‘Demons are, theoretically, creatures of distilled evil.’

‘And?’ the captain pressed.

‘And evil as we know it,’ the boy replied with condescending smugness, ‘or rather, as we like to think we know it, doesn’t exist. There is instinct, there is law, there is religion. These define action and the intent behind them cannot be classified by subjective definitions. And, above all, things cannot be made out of evil.’

‘Moral objections aside,’ Asper said, casting the boy a sideways glare, ‘even the high priests deny the existence of demons, Lord Evenhands.’

‘As well they should,’ Miron said, nodding. ‘It has been ages since anyone has even thought the name, much less seen one. They are too horrible to contemplate and too long forgotten to mention. I assure you, though, they do exist and you have seen one.’

‘I believe it.’

Eyes turned towards Kataria with a mixture of horror and suspicion.

‘We have legends about them,’ she continued. ‘Some of the oldest of my tribe claim that their greater ancestors were still alive when demons roamed the world.’

‘So you knew about this?’ Lenk asked accusingly. ‘Why the hell didn’t you say anything?’

‘Oh, come on, imbecile,’ she snapped back, ‘what were the odds that it would come up?’

‘In the interests of preventing further delays,’ Miron said, clearing his throat, ‘may I continue?’

‘Sorry,’ Lenk muttered.

‘He certainly is,’ Kataria added snidely.

‘The suffering at the hands of the demons did not go unnoticed by the Gods and did not go unchallenged by mortals,’ Miron continued. ‘The heavenly ones spoke to the fiercest and most determined men and women, the ones free of demonic oppression, and granted unto them boons of divine power.

‘These Gods were the deities of righteousness: Talanas, the Healer, Galataur, the Sovereign, and Darior, the Judge.’

‘Who?’ Denaos asked.

‘Dariorism. An older faith, not much practised any more,’ Asper answered.

‘Indeed,’ Miron said, nodding. ‘Some faiths lost much in those times. They vested within these mortals their powers and, with that, the House of the Vanquishing Trinity, an organisation devoted to destroying the demons, was born.

‘The fighting began with great bloodshed, but for every demon that fell, more champions rose up, inspired by their rescuers. Many were lost, peoples became extinct in the span of a breath, but ultimately, mortals prevailed. The demons were pushed back and cast into hell, cursed to live in shadow for all eternity.

‘The House’s life after this was disgracefully short,’ Miron continued. ‘With no common oppressor, the suffering was forgotten by all peoples. Grudges were born, rivalries surfaced and wars between races tore the unity apart. The House was disbanded.’

‘Disbanded?’ Kataria said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Then why do you-’

‘Key positions remain,’ Miron said, ‘men and women with duties so grave that they must endure the generations. Mine is such a position, mine is such a duty. I remain charged to guard the artefacts born of the suffering, lest they fall into. . less worthy hands.’

Lenk’s eyes were the first to go alight with the realisation. ‘The book,’ he uttered, the words heavy on his tongue. ‘The book the frogmen stole.’

‘It has a name,’ the priest replied. ‘The Tome of the Undergates, penned by the most heinous of demons and their mortal subjects in the last days of the wars. They were not fools; they foresaw their banishment. Knowing this, they wrought within the pages the rituals and rites necessary to bring them back to the mortal world.’

Miron shrank with the force of his sigh, all authority and cryptic presence lost as he slumped in his seat.

‘In my arrogance, I had hoped to use the tome to enable the Aeons’ Gate. I believed that the rituals used to establish contact with hell could be used to commune with heaven.’

‘How does anything involving the word “Undergates” lend itself to beneficient purposes?’ Denaos muttered.