Nag’s corpse. Of course, if anything edible had come ashore, it was likely devoured by one of the many combatants that crawled around the rubble.
Or, far more likely, Lenk thought, spirited away by some god who isn’t content to smite me with disease and despair. Any divine favour I might have enjoyed came exclusively from Asper’s presence, and she’s …
He winced, trying not to finish that thought.
‘Dead?’ the voice finished for him.
‘I was trying to avoid that conclusion,’ Lenk muttered.
‘What purpose is born through denial of the inevitable?’
‘Hope?’
‘Purpose, not delusion.’
‘I find myself hard-pressed to argue.’ Lenk stalked closer to the ruined vessel, ignoring the resentful glares the seagulls shot him and the sword he carried. ‘Still, there might be something here … some clue …’
‘What could you possibly find here that would make you realise anything you don’t already know?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe they left something for me to find.’
‘Such as?’
‘I said I don’t know.’
‘One would think that clueless futility is also a delusion.’
‘One would think.’
‘The indulgence can’t be healthy, you know.’
‘Given that my leg is a festering mass of disease and I’m having a conversation with a symptom of insanity, I’d say I’m well beyond concern for health, mental or otherwise.’
‘Did you ever stop to think that perhaps my presence is a blessing?’
‘In between you causing me to look like a lunatic in front of people and telling me to kill people, no, that thought hadn’t occurred to me.’
‘Consider this: You’re currently searching through rotting timber when you should be seeking medicinal aid. The captain sent his mate to pick you up. You and the tome, do you recall?’
‘I recall the giant, man-eating sea snakes that complicated matters a bit.’
‘Regardless, even if you’ve lost the tome, there would be medicine, supplies aboard the ship they sent. We could recuperate, recover, and then search-’
‘For the others …’ Lenk muttered, scratching his chin. ‘You’re concerned about them and my well-being. Does the fever affect you, too?’
‘The tome. We must find the tome. As for the others … stop this. They are weak. They are dead. We must concern ourselves with our well-being.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I know that this ship was wood and metal and the snakes destroyed it. What chance does flesh and bone have?’
‘I survived.’
‘Because of me, as you continue to do. Because of me. Now take heed and listen.’
‘There’s still a chance. There has to be something here. Something that can-’
‘There is something here.’
‘Where?’
The voice didn’t have to reply. Lenk didn’t have to look hard. He spied it, struggling to break free in the flow and flee into the ocean. His eyes went wide, a chill swept over his fevered body. Suddenly, the sun dimmed, his blood ran thin in his body, and his voice could barely rise from his throat.
‘No …’ he whispered.
Kataria’s feather, floating in the water, pulled by the flow as the smooth stick attached to it held it captive.
‘No … no, no. No!’ Lenk swept up to it, cradling it in trembling hands as though it might break at any moment. ‘No … she … she’d never leave this behind. She always wears them.’
‘Wore them.’
‘Shut up! YOU SHUT UP!’ Lenk snarled, bashing his fist against his temple. ‘This can’t be it. She wouldn’t have left this. She … they …’ He swallowed hard, a lump of boiling lead tumbling down his throat. ‘All …’
‘Dead.’
The word was given a sudden, heavy weight. It drove him to his knees, pulled the sword from his hand, crushed the blood from his face like dirty water from a sponge.
‘Dead …’
‘Dead,’ the voice repeated. ‘Another blessing you will come to realise in time.’
‘Please …’ Lenk gasped, his voice wet and heavy in his throat. ‘Please don’t say that.’
‘She would have killed you, you know.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘She said as much.’
The voices flashed through his mind, as hot and tense as his fevered brow. All he had left to remember them by — her by — was the scorn that had dripped from her lips when they last spoke. The memories, the pleasantries, faded into nothingness and left one voice behind.
‘I want to feel like myself.’
‘And you can only do that by ignoring me?’
‘No, I can only do that by killing you!’
It continued to ring, cathedral bells of cracked brass. He clenched his skull, trying to stop it from echoing inside his head. He could not let go of the noise. It was all he had left.
‘Kill you …’ he repeated to himself. ‘Kill you … kill you …’
‘She would have,’ the voice replied. ‘But that’s not important now. Now, we must rise up, we must-’
It faded, drowned in a flood of logic and reason that swept into Lenk’s brain on a hatefully reasonable tone.
Of course she would have, he thought. She’s a shict. You’re a human. They live to kill us. This voice, familiarly cynical and harsh, he realised was Denaos’ own, seeping up from some gash in his mind. What, you thought she’d give up her whole race for you?
Maybe it’s a blessing, a voice like Asper’s said inside him. The one favour the Gods will show you. You don’t have to worry about her anymore, do you? You don’t have to worry about anything …
Well, it’s just logical, isn’t it? Dreadaeleon asked, more decisive and snide than ever. Put two opposing forces in the same atmosphere and one destroys the other. You can’t change that. It’s just how it works.
Your life only became more meaningless when you centred it on her, Gariath growled. You deserve to die.
‘I deserve it …’
‘Self-pity is also a …’ The voice paused suddenly, its tone shifting to cold anger. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I deserve it.’
Lenk reached up and took the feather, the last action he took before he rose without compulsion from his body. He turned to stare out over the sea, clutching the white object close to him. Then, his feet beginning to move with numb mechanic, he walked toward the hungry, frothing sea.
‘What are you doing?’ The voice’s demand didn’t penetrate the numbness in his
