Tome of the Undergates

there.

Waiting.

‘Their next bid will be coming shortly,’ Denaos warned. ‘And he’s going to be the one that delivers it.’ He gestured out to the crew. ‘They’re dead, sure, but they’re Argaol’s men. We have to think of our own.’

‘He’s just a human,’ Kataria said derisively, ‘a monkey.’ She glanced at the titanic pirate and frowned. ‘A big monkey, but we’ve killed big ones before. There’s no reason to run.’

‘Good,’ Denaos replied sharply, ‘stay here while all sane creatures embrace reason.’ He sneered. ‘Do try to scream loudly, though. Make it something they’ll savour long enough so that the rest of us can get away.’

‘The only one leaving will be you, round-ear,’ Kataria growled, ‘and we’ll see how long your delusions of wit can sustain you at sea.’

‘Only a shict would think of reason as delusional.’

‘Only a human would think of cowardice as rational!’

Words were flung between them like arrows and daggers, each one cutting deeply with neither of the two refusing to admit the blood. Lenk had no eyes for their snarls and rude gestures, no attention for their insults that turned to whispers on his ears.

His stare was seized, bound to the hulking figure of Rashodd. His ears were full, consumed by another voice whispering at the back of his head.

It’s possible, that voice said, that Denaos is wrong. There are almost as many men on our ship as on theirs. We could fight. We wouldn’t even have to win a complete victory, just bloody their noses. Teach them that we aren’t worth the trouble. It’s business, right?

‘What’s the big deal over a big monkey, anyway?’ Kataria snapped. ‘The moment he raises that visor, I’ll put an arrow in his gullet and we’ll be done here! No need to run.’ Her laughter was sharp and unpleasant. ‘Or do you find his big muscles intimidating, you poor little lamb?’

‘I can think of at least one muscle of his that you’ll find unpleasant when he comes over,’ Denaos replied, a hint of ire creeping into his voice. ‘And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was bearded and covered in iron, too. He’s seen what you’ve done to his men. He won’t be taking that visor off.’

It’s possible, Lenk answered his own thought, but not likely. Numbers are one thing, but steel is another. They have swords. We have sticks. Well, I mean, I’ve got a sword. . fat lot of good it will do against that many, though. Running is just logical here. It’s not as if Denaos actually had a good idea here, anyway.

‘If you run, you don’t get paid,’ Kataria said. ‘Though, really, I’ve always wanted to see if human greed is stronger than human cowardice.’

‘We get paid slaves’ wages,’ Denaos said. ‘Silf, we get worse. We get adventurers’ wages. Stop trying to turn this into a matter of morality. It’s purely about the practicality of the situation and, really, when has a shict ever been a moral authority?’

When have any of them ever had a good idea? Lenk’s eyes narrowed irately. I’m always the one who has to think here. He’s a coward, but she’s insane. Asper’s a milksop, Dreadaeleon’s worthless. Gariath is as likely to kill me as help. Running is better here. They’ll get me killed if we stay.

‘Well, don’t get the impression that I’m trying to stop you,’ Kataria snarled. ‘The only reason I’d like you to stay is because I’m almost certain you’ll get a sword in your guts and then I won’t even have to deal with the terrible worry that you might somehow survive out at sea. The rest of us can handle things from here.’

‘And if I could handle it all by myself, I would,’ Denaos said. ‘Feeling the humanitarian that I am, though, I would consider it a decent thing to try to get as many humans off as I possibly could.’

‘Decent? You?’ Kataria made a sound as though she had just inhaled one of her own arrows through her nose.

‘I didn’t kill anyone today.’

‘Only because you were busy putting your hands down a dead man’s trousers. In what language is that decent?’

They’re going to die, Lenk’s thoughts grew their wings, flew about his head violently, but I can live. Flee now and live! The rest will. .

‘And what would you know of language?’ Denaos snarled. ‘You only learned how to speak ours so you could mock the people you kill, savage!’

… waiting, waiting for what? To attack? Why? What else can you do? There’s so many of them, few of us. Save them and they kill each other. .

‘And you mock your own people by pretending you give a single fart about them, rat.’

… to what end? What else can you do?

‘Barbarian!’

What else can you do?

‘Coward!’

WHAT ELSE?

The thoughts that formed a blizzard in Lenk’s mind suddenly froze over, turning to a pure sheet of ice over his brain. He suddenly felt a chill creep down his spine and into his arm, forcing his fingers shut on his sword’s hilt. From the ice, a single voice, frigid and uncompromising, spoke.

Kill.

‘What?’ he whispered aloud.

Kill.

‘I. . don’t-’

‘Don’t what?’

He felt a hand on his shoulder, unbearably warm. He whirled about, hand tight on his sword. The shapes before him looked unfamiliar for a moment: shadows of blue lost in the sky. He blinked and something came into view, apparent in a flash of blazing green.

Kataria’s eyes, brimming with disquiet.

With every blink, the sunlight became brighter and more oppressive. He squinted at the two people before him, face twisted in a confused frown.

‘What?’

‘It’s up to you, we agreed,’ Kataria replied hesitantly. ‘You’re the leader.’

‘Though “why” is a good question,’ Denaos muttered.

‘Do we fight or run?’

Lenk looked over his shoulder. His eyelid twitched at the sight of the pirates, visibly tensing, sliding swords from their sheaths. Behind the rows of tattooed flesh, a shadow shifted uneasily. Had it always been there, Lenk wondered, standing so still that he hadn’t noticed it?

‘Fight?’ Kataria repeated. ‘Or run?’

Lenk nodded. He heard her distinctly now, saw the world free of haze and darkness. Everything became clear.

‘I have a plan,’ he said firmly.

‘I’m all ears,’ Denaos said, casting a snide smile to Kataria. ‘Sorry, was that offensive?’

‘Shut up,’ Lenk growled before she could. ‘Grab your weapons. Follow me.’

Don’t look, Dreadaeleon thought to himself, but a seagull just evacuated on your shoulder.

He felt his neck twist slightly.

I SAID, DON’T LOOK! He cringed at his own thoughts. No, if you look, you’ll panic. I mean, why wouldn’t you? It’s sitting there. . all squishy and crawling with disease. And. . well, this isn’t helping. Just. . just brush it off nonchalantly. . try to be nonchalant about touching bird faeces. . just try.