He could see the holes broken in the seating. The tunnels, the same one he had come through Jaga in. That’s how they had gotten in here. They had been waiting for him. The man in the ice knew. He had sent Lenk here.
“The truth is, you wanted them all to hurt like you hurt. To feel afraid, betrayed, alone like you do with your deaf gods and uncaring world. I looked into your head, Lenk. Whatever voices you think are controlling you are not. They do not put thoughts in your head. They merely agree with what you’re thinking.”
Something shifted in the water.
“And that voice that told you to kill. .”
He felt his throat close.
“That voice that said they had to die. .”
The water turned unbearably warm.
“That voice that wanted her to bleed. . it was merely agreeing with you.”
No more air. No more sound. No more light. She willed him to stop breathing.
“For my children, for the people you would have killed. . I do this for them, Lenk. Die.”
Her jaws gaped open. Teeth ringed a throat that stretched into hell. The water shifted, he felt himself being sucked into her maw. He could not fight back, he didn’t want to. Her voice was in his head, the water was seeping into every orifice, and on each droplet was the unbearable truth.
He wanted it. He wanted Kataria to die. He wanted her to hurt. He wanted everyone to hurt. He deserved this. He deserved death. The man in the ice knew. Everyone knew.
Except that tiny voice in the back of his head. The one he left behind. The one pounding at his skull and whispering.
“Not here. Not this way.”
The water shifted. The light flashed. Around him, a dozen shapes began floating toward the surface. The jaws snapped shut. The yellow eyes, the dozens of staring yellow orbs, grew wide.
“No. No. NO.”
The water quaked like earth, a distant rumble boiling out of the Aeons’ Gate, growing louder.
“Leave them alone!”
The Kraken Queen was shrieking at someone. The yellow eyes turned toward the surface. Something like a great black limb reached up and out. And Lenk felt something inside him cry out.
“Swim.”
That small act of obedience was all it took. His blood was cold as he swam for the surface, sparing only a moment to seize his sword. The whispering in the back of his head grew louder. That was a worry. But that was a worry for people whose lungs weren’t about to explode.
He burst out of the surface with a gasp and the sound of agony. He treaded water, looking through bleary eyes toward the walkway upon which the carnage rang.
They moved like shadows. The longfaces clad in black armor darted into combat, their spears lancing out and into frogmen, shields deflecting crude knives and the reaching grasps of Abysmyths. When the opportunity presented itself, one leapt upon a towering demon, jamming her spear deep into the creature’s mouth before producing a green vial from her belt and hurling it into the open wound. The ensuing mess of steam, screams, and flailing sent her flying back.
Still, they came. Frogmen and Abysmyths pulled themselves out of the black water to assist their brethren. Longfaces continued to charge in from the archways, following the sound of carnage.
Kataria stood at the edge, backing away farther. Her captors lay at her feet in varying stages of torn-the-hell-apart and she stood, wielding one of their crude bone knives, letting the blood on her hands suggest just how easy a target she might be.
“What the hell is this?” Lenk demanded, swimming up to her.
When Kataria whirled on him, her eyes were mirrors reflecting the blood painting her mouth. She stared at him just long enough to know he wasn’t anything to kill before turning her attentions back to the carnage.
“I don’t know,” she grunted. “They just showed up after you got dragged under, and started fighting. I’ve killed about four so far.”
“What,” Lenk gasped as he tossed his sword onto the stone and pulled himself up after it, “and you didn’t think to come back after me?”
“No, Lenk, I didn’t jump into a bottomless pit of shadow teeming with demons rather than fight off the frogmen trying to kill me.” She bared bloodied teeth. “Why the hell do I have to be the one that saves you all the damned time? I killed a longface for you. I shot my brother for you!”
“So you admit there’s precedent.”
“You stupid son of a-”
Her ears pricked up, her body tensed. By the time he heard the high-pitched whine, by the time he saw the air tense as she did, by the time he thought to look behind him, it was too late.
He saw the Deepshriek’s gaping jaws a moment before he felt the air erupt. The creature’s wail cut through the air, flayed moss from stone, cast frogmen into the shadows, slammed netherlings from their feet, and struck him squarely in the chest. He felt the earth leave his feet, the wind leave his lungs, the stone meet his back as he was smashed against the wall.
An airless, echoing silence followed, all voice and terror rendered mute by the distant ringing in his ears. And in that silence, he could hear her. So closely.
“I am close to you, my children.” It came from the deep, rising like a bubble. “So close. I can hear your sorrow. I can feel your pain. Let me see you. Let me hold you.”
At the center of the great pool, between the two pillars, he could see the shadows boiling. A shape stirred beneath the water, rising. Pale, thin fingers reached out from the darkness. They would have been delicate, had they not been the size of spears, each joint topped with a cluster of barnacles and coral. They wrapped around a pillar rising from the darkness, a slender arm, monstrous and beautiful, tensed as it pulled the shape closer.
“She comes.”
In the echo of the Deepshriek’s fury, in the resonance of Ulbecetonth’s whisper, he could hear it. Louder. Clearer. Reaching into him.
“But she is weak, still. She is not all the way through. Strike her now. Kill her now.”
“Kataria,” Lenk muttered, pulling himself to feet that felt like someone else’s. He swayed, no breath or thought to guide him. “I need to find her.”
“You need to save her.”
“I can’t see her.” His vision was darkening at the edges. His skeleton shook inside his body. The world blurred into dimming colors and bleeding lights. “I can’t see. . anything.”
The question came without breath.
“Am I dying?”
And the answer came in the drip of blood down his back and in the scent of decay and rot weeping from his shoulder.
“I can’t die.” He drew in a breath and found none. “I have to save everyone.” He took a step forward and fell. “I have to save Kat.” He looked to the ceiling and saw only darkness. “I wanted to run.” He tasted blood in his mouth. “I don’t want to die.”
And in the darkness, in the absence of breath, in the weakness of his body, the answer came on a cold voice.
“Then let me in.”
A moment’s lapse in concentration, a reflex, a thought about what would happen if he bled out on the floor here and all hell came to pass. Whatever it was, he didn’t know. Because when his vision returned, the world was painted in cold, muted color.
He couldn’t feel the blood weeping from his shoulder. He couldn’t feel the decay in his skin. He couldn’t feel the sword in his hand or the stone under his feet. He couldn’t feel anything.
Not even fear for what he was doing.
He surrendered to the familiarity. To the feel of nothing. To the steel in his hands and the air under his feet as he rushed toward the edge of the walkway and leapt.
The Deepshriek’s auburn-haired head swept toward him and opened its mouth moments before he landed upon the gray fish’s hide. He fought to keep his footing as his hand shot out and caught the fleshy stalk of the beast’s throat, choking its scream. Its mouth gaped open, its head flailed wildly in silent screaming as he hefted his sword and aimed for the thickest part.