by JG Faherty
I opened my eyes, a painful process in itself. Darkness surrounded me, but my superior vision allowed me to take in details that would have otherwise been lost. Curved stone walls above me. An underground cavern of some kind. For an instant I imagined myself back in my father’s lair, that everything I’d experienced since Flannery shot me had been just a dream. Even the air smelled the same, river water and wet earth. I actually heard the ripples of gently flowing water against the shore very close to me.
Something moved off to one side. I attempted to turn my head but the grinding of broken bones in my shoulders and the resurgence of my misery stopped me.
“Hello, Henry.” The welcome voice shattered the illusion of being cast back in time.
Callie! She had found me. “Help.” It came out as a whisper but she heard me. Moved closer. Knelt by my side so I could see her face.
Her metamorphosis had continued. Most of her hair had fallen out and the gill slits were clearly visible on her neck. Her mouth had widened, and when she smiled I saw teeth like a shark’s. Her nose was flatter than before, although it had not yet evolved into the two flap-like openings such as mine. Her eyes shined a dull gray and I realized there had to be some kind of light somewhere in order for them to reflect it.
When she placed a hand on my arm, I felt pointed talons caress my injured flesh.
“I didn’t think you would survive this long,” she said. Her words reached me through a buzzing in my ears. The aftereffects of Flannery’s explosives, or an injury to my head? I tried to focus on her words but her face kept wavering, creating a double image that came and went.
“We pulled you from the water. It was Professor Angell’s idea to build the storage room over your unnamed underground river, you know. The same one that flows all the way to Innsmouth. It was intended that someday we would entice Scythalla or Asgotha from the sea to the university. Imagine his surprise when I tell him she was only miles away this whole time.”
Her nails dug deeper, drawing a whimper of pain from me. I tried to pull my arm away but she gripped it, holding it tight.
“The explosion opened the floor. Only a few of us lived. The entire damned building came down on us. I told you Ben would stop at nothing, but you didn’t listen. Now we have to leave. Nowhere in New England is safe for us anymore, thanks to you. Your Officer Flannery and my brother escaped. They still live, and they’ll be looking for any signs of you or me or H’ ahf’ fhtagn.”
He who dreams.
“Who…?” I stopped. She’d spoken the language of the Elders. When had she learned it?
How long had I lain here?
“Your half brother. We have named him. He carries the blood of Scythalla, even more than you do. He knows what you know, his powers…he will lead us now. First to where Asgotha sleeps, and then into the future.”
What kind of treachery was this? I had to be hearing her wrong, mistaking her words. My injured brain….
“No. I am your king. You must help me.”
Callie laughed, and a second voice joined in. Movement, a blurred shape behind her, and then he stood next to her. The Unnamed One – He Who Dreams – only no longer a child. A man, taller and broader of shoulder than I. He placed a hand on Callie’s head and she sighed.
“Ymg’ yar ph’ ah. H’ mgepah mgsyha’h l’ mgepah’gotha ah.”
Your time is over. It was never meant to be.
His voice was guttural, each word carrying a sense of power brimming to be released.
“You have served your purpose, Henry,” Callie said. “Done what you were always meant to do: waken the true king. We needed one of the blood to do it, either your father or you. And now we must depart. Someday we will return to this place, the Dreamer and I, with his children and their children, to claim the throne. But there is much to do before then. The Followers await us in New York, a town called Rocky Point. From there we’ll make our way across the world to Antarctica, leaving behind those of the blood at each stop. So that when the time comes, our army will be mighty and waiting for us.
“Goodbye, Henry. I hope you don’t suffer here for too long.”
I summoned what little bit of strength I had left. She wouldn’t get away with this! “I will kill you. I—” Something shifted inside me and stabbed my lung, preventing me from finishing my sentence.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “But maybe I shouldn’t take the chance. I’ll send a message to Ben, let him know where he can find you.”
Callie rose and took the Dreamer’s hand. Together they disappeared into the gloom, leaving me broken and alone. I lay there, my body on fire and my thoughts flickering as I struggled to remain conscious.
Disloyal harlot! The truth of things ate at me. I’d been so blind. Looking back, I saw where I’d been foolish, believing her because she was Callie, the honest young woman I’d known all my life, the woman who carried an unrequited love for me.
Now I had to wonder if that had even been true. She’d as much admitted she’d been sullied and degraded by the Followers. Surely that meant her motives and sense of honor would be just as suspect. But I’d never questioned her.
Not even when I saw the Dreamer in his glass womb.
I should have questioned its physical differences then, but I was overwhelmed with the joy of discovering it.
Yet how could it be a stepbrother to me? It hadn’t been a human turned by Mother’s blood, like me or my father. Nor could it be a child of one such as I, for that would make it less of the blood, more human than not. Only one creature could give birth to such a thing.
Scythalla herself.
Another of Callie’s lies. She and the Followers had to know the Dreamer’s true nature. And everything the Followers had done since then, every machination, was to fulfill their true goal, of awakening the Dreamer. Not, as she’d led me to believe, of placing Scythalla’s chosen one – me – on the throne. I had merely been a tool, a means to an end.
No doubt if I’d lived through the encounter with Flannery, they’d have found a way to dispose of me once they no longer needed the knowledge I held. Once he matured, the Dreamer would be a formidable opponent, one I couldn’t possibly hope to take on single-handedly.
Not that it mattered. I’d discovered my folly too late. The irony of my situation hurt almost as much as my physical injuries. I’d come full circle, once again abandoned to die alone in an underground cavern. Only this time there’d be no ‘Fhalma, no Mother, to save me.
I closed my eyes and let the pain take me. It served as fuel for the fire burning inside me, the white-hot fury of my hatred. Flannery, Ben, Callie, the Followers. My father. Even Scythalla, for surely this all began with her. I wished terrible deaths on them all, on everyone who’d ever wronged me. I prayed to all the gods of the universe and all the demons to exact my retribution for me, since I’d never live to carry it out myself.
Caught up in my fantasy of vengeance, I didn’t notice the brightening of the cavern until the glow penetrated my eyelids. I opened my eyes and beheld an impossible sight, one that had me questioning if I’d passed into some sort of near-death hallucination.
Miniature flames surrounded me, tiny stars that smoldered like yellow sparks.
No, not stars, I amended, as several drew closer.
Brothers and sisters.
My father’s offspring! The ones I’d commanded to stay in the river to await my return. Somehow they’d found me.
Their numbers grew, a dozen, then three. I felt their obedience, their loyalty, pour over me.
These were my true brothers and sisters; they shared my blood, my heritage.
My desire to rule.
Help me, I commanded them. And I knew they could. Their blood was my blood, after all. Tiny as they were, they could only spare a drop each. One by one they climbed onto my face and pricked themselves, let that single droplet fall onto my tongue
. Not enough to heal me. Not nearly enough. But a start. My pain began to subside. More of them fed me, and I felt my body stabilize.
They called out to their kin, the ones far away in the ocean, in the nearby rivers. It would take them days, weeks, to reach us. If we stayed here, we would die, for I’d bet all the coin in Innsmouth that Callie would make good on her threat to inform her brother of my whereabouts.
I pushed myself a few inches, digging my feet into the wet soil. Even that exertion exhausted me. No matter. My family would feed me again in a short while, and I would move a little farther. I would keep moving in that fashion until I reached the water, and from there my brothers and sisters would guide me to safety. A place where I could recover at my own speed. And recover I would.
I wasn’t the only one to misjudge an enemy.
Callie should have disposed of me when she had the chance. My body would heal. Even if it took months, or years. I would use that time to plan my vengeance.
This time I wouldn’t fail.
Acknowledgments
As always, I have to thank a few people, without whom this book wouldn’t have been possible.
My wife, Andrea, for all her support of me and my writing.
My mother, who is also a tireless supporter of mine.
My friends and family, who are always there to give me a laugh or pull me away from my desk for a good dinner, a nice drink, or a Sunday Fun Day.
Bruno, our rescue pup, who makes me smile and reminds me to exercise.
My fantastic beta readers, Rena Mason, James Chambers, Erinn Kemper, Patrick Freivald, Chris Marrs, Peter Salomon, Lisa Morton, and Brian Matthews, who always make me better. They’re also great writers in their own right, so you should check them out.
The people at Flame Tree who make the magic happen. Don D’Auria, my editor. Gillian Whitaker, Maria Tissot, Molly Rosevear, Josie Karani, Nick Wells, and the fantastic editing and art teams, who do such a great job of getting the books in shape and putting amazing covers on them. You are all a huge part of this, and I thank you.
And finally, a big thank you to everyone reading this. Without readers, writers would become as extinct as dodos.
About this book
This is a FLAME TREE PRESS BOOK
Text copyright © 2020 JG Faherty
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Thanks to the Flame Tree Press team, including: Taylor Bentley, Frances Bodiam, Federica Ciaravella, Don D’Auria, Chris Herbert, Josie Karani, Molly Rosevear, Mike Spender, Cat Taylor, Maria Tissot, Nick Wells, Gillian Whitaker. The cover is created by Flame Tree Studio with thanks to Nik Keevil and Shutterstock.com.
FLAME TREE PRESS is an imprint of Flame Tree Publishing Ltd. flametreepublishing.com. A copy of the CIP data for this book is available from the British Library and the Library of Congress.
HB 978-1-78758-409-9 | PB ISBN: 978-1-78758-407-5
UK-PB ISBN: 978-1-78758-408-2 | ebook ISBN: 978-1-78758-410-5
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