‘May I dispute?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘I must insist,’ the Grey One That Grins said. ‘Within these ruins lie secrets of the House, the methods they used to banish Ulbecetonth. We must seek them out if we are to destroy her.’

‘You mean if Iam to destroy her,’ Sheraptus replied. ‘You only seem to emerge when you require something else of me.’

‘I would entreat you to have patience with me. My presence is required at many places at once.’

‘The point remains, I have yet to see a reason to oblige you in this vendetta against your demons.’

‘You wish to see the world beyond this one? Very well. But know that Gods are strange things. People may not understand it, but they believe that the Gods will protect them in exchange for their devotion.’

‘Symbiosis.’

‘Precisely. And their devotions come with spears and swords, Sheraptus, and they are many. Arkklan Kaharn numbers how many? Five hundred?’

‘That is as many as we’ve been able to bring through the Nether.’

‘Slay Ulbecetonth and you shall have more. We will put our resources behind you. We will open more doors to the Nether. We will point you to the seats of knowledge in this world. We will unleash you … if you simply perform this triviality for us.’

Sheraptus stared at him for a time before he blinked. The stones ceased to burn. His eyes returned to their milky white.

‘I suppose I can have patience for a while yet, then,’ he said.

‘I am pleased we could reach an agreement. All else goes according to plan?’

‘It does. Yldus is scouting the overscum city you wished us to. Vashnear combs this island with the Carnassials.’

‘And you?’

‘I am here to speak to someone about a book,’ Sheraptus said, smiling.

‘I was intending to inquire as to its status.’

‘I am pleased to have saved you the trouble.’

‘You would take no offence if I left now, then?’

‘Unless you require something else of me.’

‘At the moment?’

‘Or in the near future.’

The Grey One That Grins tilted his head to the side, looking thoughtful. Or as thoughtful as Sheraptus suspected his companion was capable of looking.

‘I have been made aware of certain presences upon the island,’ he said after a moment. ‘Peculiar creatures that should have died long ago.’

‘Beyond Those Green Things?’

‘Far beyond. Humans.’

‘With all due respect to your awareness and attunements,’ Sheraptus said, ‘I suspect That Thing That Screams would have told me if any other elements arrived.’

‘I do not trust that creature.’

‘I would suggest, then, that you trust in my hold over her.’

‘As you say. Of course, should you find trust in my reasoning, I would ask that you do your best not to slaughter these humans. They continue to oppose Ulbecetonth and have dealt blows against her before.’

Sheraptus quirked a brow. ‘These are the ones that were at Irontide?’

‘The very same. Does this aggravate you?’

‘Not entirely, no. The females lost were … females. They’d have been disappointed if they didn’t die.’

‘And the male?’

‘Cahulus was weak, apparently.’

‘I can trust your discretion, then?’

‘Discretion …’ Sheraptus hummed the word.

‘Judgement.’

‘You can concede my judgement.’

‘I will settle for that, then.’ The Grey One That Grins turned to go, crawling upon his hands and feet. ‘I trust Vashnear will arrange for the usual transportation?’

‘Of course.’

‘Very well, then. I leave things in your capabilities.’ The Grey One That Grins continued for another three paces before pausing and glancing over his emaciated shoulder. ‘Sheraptus?’

‘Hm?’

‘Symbiosis without certainty is faith.’

‘Faith being?’

‘The ability to move in one direction without necessarily knowing where one is going.’

‘Weakness.’

‘The one that drives the world.’

The Grey One That Grins said nothing more as he slinked down the rest of the beach, disappearing behind a dune. Sheraptus watched him go for as long as it took for him to feel it again: a light brushing of air against his cheeks, the faint warmth of fire screened through snow.

A moth’s wings, flapping.

He recognised it as nethra, albeit only a faint, fleeting trace of it. Weak as it was, though, the intent behind it was clear. With whatever pitiful power they had, someone was reaching out for him.

He smiled softly, narrowed his eyes and reached back.

As one, the fire erupted from his eyes as a wave of force swept out from his body. It sped along the sand, kicking it up in small waves of dirt. In a moment, it dissipated, but the force lingered. He watched it sweep over dunes, over beach, over puddle, following a distant, unseen goal.

He waited patiently.

He heard a scream, faint in the distance.

Female.

He smiled.

Dreadaeleon turned at her howl, seeing her clutching at her arm wildly.

‘ What’s happening?’ Asper wailed. ‘ What is it?’

He was about to ask when he was struck by it a moment later. The force shot through him, reaching up into his body with a burning hand, seizing his bowels in intangible icy fingers and giving it a sharp twist.

Keep it together, old man, he tried to tell himself. Keep it together. She’s in trouble now. Keep it together for her. He took a step toward her, collapsed onto his knees. Breath was coming in rasping, thick gasps, the force slipping up to choke him from the inside. FOR VENARIE’S SAKE, YOU WEAK LITTLE-

His insult died with his thoughts as electricity gripped his skull, setting it rattling in its thin case of flesh and hair. For a fleeting moment, he was aware of the sensation, aware of what it meant. Someone was attempting to find his thoughts, to harness the electric impulse in his skull. The human mind was too complex for that, he knew, just as he knew that every experimental attempt to do so had ended in-

He screamed. He couldn’t hear it. His ears were ringing. His vision was darkening.

He looked to his side. Asper was not screaming. Why wasn’t she screaming? She was always screaming, always terrified. He was supposed to protect her now. Once he remembered how to use his legs, he decided, he would do just that. All he needed to do was remember how to do that, also how to breathe.

Asper was clutching her arm, obviously in pain, but speaking clearly. The certainty was still present in the set of her jaw, the determination in her face. But there was something else there, a glimmer of something in her eye. He recognised it; he wished he could remember what it meant.

With his last thought, he wondered how things could have gone so wrong. He was going to save everyone, save her. But now he was numb, barely aware of the earth moving under him. But as his vision darkened, he could see the gloved hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him along. He stared up into Denaos’ face and summoned up the will for one final thought.

You dumb asshole.

Nine

Five hundred and forty-nine patches of disease crawling on two legs, he thought as he stared down at the tiny port city beneath the setting sun.

Two hundred and sixty able to hold a weapon, with five hundred and twenty eyes that spoke of their inability to know how.

One hundred and three of them carrying fishing rods and nets instead, taking their aggressions out against an ocean that was far too kind to them.

Ninety and six of them infirm, indisposed or suffering from the delusion that their lack of external genitalia was an excuse to let others do the fighting.

Ninety remained, evenly split between visitors in short boats who believed that the glittering chunks of metal they traded for their fish and grain was what made their civilisation worthy of crushing other peoples beneath its boot, and the children …