“That was a fear. The same as any man of flesh and bone would have.”
“It was a certainty.”
“If it was certain, then I would have accepted it.”
“Denial is a poor shield, brother.”
“And a great weapon. You swing it hard enough, it breaks just about anything. Especially certainty.”
“We heard you when you came to this land. We heard your fears through him and they spoke loudly.”
“And what do you hear now?”
The man was silent.
“I sent him away,” Lenk said. “I rejected him. I rejected everything he offered me, every price he asked. I’m free of him.” He felt the pain in his shoulder. He did not reach for it. “I’m free of that ruler.”
“He does not rule. He speaks. He blesses us, tells us what must be done and gives us the strength to do it.”
“Sounds like any other tyrant masquerading as benevolent.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps he knew that it was the price we had to pay for the rest of mankind. It’s a great power, brother. It came at a price we paid willingly.”
“Not me.”
“Then you will die.”
“I haven’t yet.”
“You haven’t accepted it yet.”
“You talk about leaving gods and rulers behind and in the same breath tell me about inevitability and fate.”
“They are not the same thing. He does not come to us and tell us this is how it must be. We felt the same that you did, the same fears, the same urges, the same knowledge that those around us loathed us and hated us and feared us. He does not come to us, brother. We call out to him, whether we know it or not.”
Lenk looked to Kataria. Instinctively. Shamefully. He looked to her and tried to convince himself that it was the voice inside his head that had said all those things about her and told him she would kill him. He looked to her and mouthed, noiselessly, “it was not me.”
She looked back. He could not bear her stare.
“I came here to get the book away,” Lenk said, turning back to the man in the ice. “Is there a way out of here or not?”
“Walk amongst your brothers. Down there in the darkness and the cold. Water carved these tunnels. It will lead you.”
“Where?”
“There is only one way.”
In the distance, he could hear something. Echoes of war cries carried on the gloom. The rattle of armor. Growing louder.
Whether the corpse was being intentionally cryptic or not, he was right. There was only one way.
They made their way down into the pit, amongst the many frozen bodies and the dead. And still the man in the ice spoke, his voice as clear and close as it had been a moment ago.
“He still calls to you, brother. He scratches at the back of your head. He tells me this. He can heal you. He can make you strong. If only you let him back in.”
He almost turned to look back at them and answer. He would have, if Kataria were not right there, seizing his neck, forcing his eyes down and his feet forward.
“You’re not them,” she snarled.
“Down there, brother, you will find him,” the voice called after him. “Or you will find her.”
And his voice echoed in the darkness. And his lights lingered in the darkness. As they walked farther, following the sound of rushing water.
I’m doing it.
The hope came, despite the blood trickling into her eye.
I’m stronger than her.
Despite the muscles in her arm breaking beneath her skin.
I can do this.
All ten of her fingers wrapped around Xhai’s fist, keeping it and the massive blade it clenched trembling over their heads. Xhai’s boots scraped against the rock. Her cursing stained the chamber’s still air. She pushed against the priestess and found the woman unyielding.
I can do it. I am doing it. I’m going to beat her and I’m going to survive and I’m going to save Denaos.
The thought came with a sudden waver.
Denaos.
She tossed the scantest glance over her shoulder, trying to catch the barest glimpse of the rogue.
It wasn’t clear how much of a mistake that was until she felt the netherling’s boot. It slammed into her belly, shattering her grasp and hurling her away. Somehow, though, she summoned just enough to curse him.
“Even-” she paused to gasp, collapsing to a knee, “-when I think about the bastard. .”
“I don’t appreciate that kind of negativity.”
His hands were on her arms, hoisting her roughly to her feet, heedless of her glower. “Doesn’t make it less true.” She tried to find her breath. “She’s strong.”
“I really hadn’t figured that out when she beat me hard enough to make piss come out my nose.”
“But she’s not invincible,” Asper said. “If one of us can occupy her while the other one. .” Asper paused, watching him run past her. “Where the hell are you going?”
He didn’t have to answer. The loud cackle that came from behind her did that well enough.
Scantest glance, barest glimpse. Sharp teeth in a wide, black-lipped smile. And she was running, too.
Breathless, staggering, struggling to stay on her feet. The sikkhun trotted after her, clacking claws and giggling wildly. It could have taken her in one pounce, but chased her with all the urgency of a child skipping through a field of dandelions.
There was, apparently, no aspect of netherling society that wasn’t, in some way, completely messed up.
“Thakh qai yush!” Xhai’s voice carried across the chamber. The sikkhun broke off suddenly, galloping toward her.
Asper came to a halt at the shattered doorway of the chamber where Denaos was trying to catch his breath and leaned against it, doing the same. She glanced at the beast as the Carnassial leapt atop its back.
“That thing could have killed me,” she gasped. “But it didn’t.” She looked at Denaos. “You should be dead by now.”
“Dead by the sikkhun or some other reason?” The rogue spat. “Not that I disagree.”
“Why didn’t it kill you while I was fighting her?”
“It’s complicated.”
“You don’t say,” she muttered.
“She doesn’t want me to die unless she can do it herself. And she’s not going to kill me unless she can take her time with it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Did I not just tell you it’s complicated? Look, I know her, so I know how to get out of this.”
“Listening.”
“Well, I don’t know it now. Give me time to think. Keep her busy.”
“Why do I have to keep her busy?”
“Because she wants to kill you first.”
“AKH ZEKH LAKH!”
Like that wasn’t obvious. The ground shook with the sikkhun. It was focused now, jaws wide and laughing as it charged toward them. Xhai spurred it on, sword over her head, snarl painted on her face.
They split, Denaos running one way, Asper the other. True to his word and Xhai’s fury, the Carnassial whirled her beast upon the priestess. It squealed in delight, rampaging after her.
She twisted and turned, forcing it to follow her erratic movement with its clumsily eager bulk. But each time she darted away, the beast had a smaller gap to close.
“Do something!” she screamed.
In answer, a stray rock came flying. It struck the Carnassial upon the brow. She grunted, rubbed her head. The sikkhun did not stop.
“What the hell was that?” Asper shrieked.
“I said give me time! That was fifteen breaths, tops!” the rogue cried back.
It might have been worth it, she thought, to try to strangle Denaos before the sikkhun killed her. That might be more satisfying. But before she could catch sight of him, she saw something else.