Death's Abyss

by S D Simper

  Gregor looked to Fauln. “Of all times,” a tragedy lacing his words. “It seems you shall be our guiding beacon instead, your majesty.”

  Fauln’s face held perfect stoicism, but Tallora knew she hid fury. Before she could continue, Fauln spoke. “Tallora, I would ask you something else, and I implore that you speak the truth. It will not be held against you. But my husband had been in talks with Advisor Chemon, both of them conspiring to acquire a weapon to protect us from Solvira.” A certain bitterness settled into Fauln’s face, and Tallora saw that she knew and had disapproved. “The time for blame is past. My husband told me of the witch they’d tortured for information. But did you know anything of the plan to awaken the leviathan?”

  A hush filled the room, everyone staring at Tallora as though she’d grown a second tail. “Yes, your majesty,” she replied softly. “The witch—Harbinger—couldn’t speak of it because of a curse placed upon her, but when Kal and I went to Solvira, I recognized the mural on a wall in one of their halls as the same beneath the Great Fire Trenches. According to the stories, only the Heart of Silver Flame could release the monster. Your husband and Chemon knew that much, but only knew how to act when . . .” Tallora steadied her breath, the next words painful—and alarming. “. . . when Chemon was told the rest of it in a vision. Or so he claimed.” She watched Fauln carefully for a reaction, for hers was ultimately the only that mattered. “I don’t know whose hands they’ve played into and neither did he, but this was the result.”

  The queen nodded, understanding in the gesture.

  The magistrate, however, appeared baffled. “You mean to tell me this being was awoken with the king’s permission?”

  “He was desperate,” Fauln whispered, shame steeling her jaw, “and forgive me, but a damned fool as well.” She looked back to Tallora, her previous fury having dissolved away. “Was there any mention of how to lock the leviathan away again? Any hope you can remember?”

  “No,” Tallora replied. “He was locked up thousands of years ago by Neoma herself. So, perhaps a prayer to Staella, but I don’t know.”

  Fauln looked to the table, at the untouched food, and placed a hand beneath her chin. “She is as good a hope as we could ask for.”

  “Staella rarely interferes, as a rule,” Gregor said, no judgement on his tongue. “She might provide peace, but I do not know if she could give any aid.”

  Tallora shut her eyes as silence settled upon the room, seeing the giant mural behind her eyelids. Dauriel had only spoken of Neoma. Perhaps that was their only hope. Within the Hall of Relics they had spoken of Yu’Khrall . . . and upon the ceiling—

  “Queen Fauln,” Tallora said, a plan quickly spinning as she spoke, “what of Yaleris? The dragon?”

  All eyes in the room looked to her. Fauln looked intrigued. “What of him?”

  “He’s our protector. It’s his duty beneath the seas. He wields his orb of water and ice to defend us. Surely he sleeps, but if we can awaken him, he would aid us.”

  Fauln nodded, visibly intrigued by the plan. “If there was ever a threat greater than Yu’Khrall, then steal my crown and beat me with it. Yaleris sleeps, but he will awaken when the need is dire.”

  “Send me,” Tallora said, and everyone looked to her in shock. But she recalled her own adventure from long ago—when a silly fourteen-year-old girl had resolved to find the dragon with a boy she thought she loved and had studied every map she could. “I know the way, and I’ll be able to leave once I’ve eaten—sooner, even, if that’s what it takes.” She looked to Gregor. “You can’t spare the guards, and we’re all refugees.” To Queen Fauln, she added, “Let me do this. Let me redeem myself.”

  “Sleep first.” The queen offered a lackluster smile, the exhaustion of the day settling into her features. “Eat. Rest. But I accept your offer, and should you succeed, you will be a hero to your people.”

  Instead of a betrayer, came the unspoken words, and Tallora nodded, though she wondered if it would be enough.

  She settled into eating, her stomach suddenly starved, as the magistrate and Fauln spoke of logistics.

  Tallora hardly slept. Situated among a room full of refugees, she doubted anyone could find peace enough to sleep, given the perpetual crying of children, coughing, even rustling upon the ground.

  Distracted, her mind had no time to dwell upon the tragedy before them. She had not even witnessed the great cataclysm, yet it caused her stomach to tighten, her air to constrict.

  When she finally balanced upon the cusp of sleep, a voice whispered in her head, clear as day: “Tallora, awaken!

  She opened her eyes, a chance glance to the window revealing a single glowing, yellow eye.

  Though her heart leapt in fear, she realized it was not the monster she feared. “Harbinger?” she mouthed, and beyond the window, the image disappeared. In silence, Tallora sat up, those still awake following with their eyes. But she swam, her tail gentle lest she disturb the still water, and left the room, and then the courthouse.

  When she looked to the window, the familiar Onian witch floated in the distance, beyond the sleepy town’s borders, waving her many tentacles, beckoning for Tallora to come.

  She obeyed, swimming quickly now. “Harbinger?” she said, audibly now, and once she came close, she saw that the witch bore a grimace as deep as the seafloor. One hand rested on her hip; the other—

  Was nothing more than a stump. Tallora brought a hand to cover her mouth at the raw flesh, barely scarred as if cauterized. “You cut off the—”

  “Well, well—Heart of Silver Flame had to get herself captured.”

  Fury rose in Tallora’s throat; she nearly choked holding it back. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Listen,” Harbinger said, her smile about as sweet as putrid codfish, “I realize this is not technically your fault, but if I thought that slitting your throat would undo this mess, I would do it.”

  Despite the idle threat, Tallora glared, fury rising. “You listen—I just lost my entire city, most of my species, and my mother—” Her words suddenly choked, but she spat out the rest nonetheless. “And that’s only in the past day. Ask me about Solvira. Ask me about Kal—I’ve lost everything, and you have the audacity to blame me for the very disaster I risked my life to try and stop? Fuck you, fuck your god, and fuck your bastard father who just murdered my people!”

  Tallora turned on her tail, furious at the tears seeping from her eyes. The village faced her, the sleepy town hopefully not awakened by her rage.

  “Tallora—”

  She whirled around, glaring at Harbinger, whose face seemed permanently etched in indifference. “You’d slit my throat to undo this, but you didn’t slit my throat to prevent it—don’t act high and mighty now. You didn’t cut off the brand until it was too late either.”

  “I apologize,” Harbinger said curtly. “May I try again?”

  Tallora crossed her arms as she glared, daring Harbinger to give her a reason to swim away.

  “I want to help.” She held up her stump of an arm, lip twisting into a sneer. “Perhaps I am to blame as well—if I had done this sooner, perhaps I could have warned you. But do not forget that your people did this to themselves.” Tallora’s chest rose in fury, but before she could spew more vitriol, Harbinger added, “Demoni Law says it is! Otherwise Onias might help, had Yu’Khrall freed himself. But King Merl sought to bring him back, and so it is your problem to deal with.”

  Tallora’s heart sank, contemplating the wicked truth of her words. “Yes, but perhaps to fall before Neoma would do something.”

  “Likely, but getting an audience is difficult, hmm? Let us focus on what we can control.”

  “I told Queen Fauln I would go find Yaleris,” Tallora said softly, her rage finally seeping away.

  Harbinger’s intrigue visibly spiked. “The dragon?”

  “Yu’Khrall is a threat to all life beneath the seas. Yaleris has every reason to come save us.”

  “So we call upon a dragon wielding a Con
vergence Orb. I approve of this plan. How can I help?”

  “It would take days for me to go on my own,” Tallora said, her own hope slowly rising, “but you could take us there in a matter of hours.”

  Harbinger’s smile revealed her shark-like teeth, vicious delight in the gesture. “I will help.”

  When Harbinger offered a hand, Tallora accepted, unsurprised when she was dragged into a particularly dark patch beside the sea of kelp.

  The world shifted. Where there was once color and light came only shades of grey. No movement—the ocean lay utterly serene, the edges of Tallora’s sight covered in fog. Yet it was as seamless as swimming through a doorway. She alone bore color, standing as a beacon among the monochromatic scenery; Harbinger’s deep blue coloring shifted to grey, blending her in with the new world.

  Here they were, in the world of demons. “All of Sha’Demoni fears what Yu’Khrall’s return means for them,” Harbinger said as they swam along. When Tallora looked back, the shadowy remains of the town were but a memory. So strange, to swim within a parallel world stretched so thin. “I do not think he would be foolish enough to attack anyone here; others are not so certain. Should he keep to himself in your world, Onias will do nothing.”

  In the far distance, Tallora saw a great shadow flicker along what she presumed was the surface of the sea. “Damn,” the Onian said, and she gripped Tallora’s arm and yanked her down.

  Tallora resisted the impulse to squeak. Something inside her welled dread, that eerie, creeping feeling of being in the presence of a shark prickling at her neck. Harbinger hid them within a great crevice, the shadowed realm protecting them from sight. She held a finger to her lip as she looked up.

  Tallora followed her gaze, throat seizing when she saw the monstrosity high above.

  It bore a hundred tentacles, not unlike Yu’Khrall, yet instead of a single, unblinking eye, Tallora caught sight of thousands of them covering the center of its eldritch body. They blinked in the manner of an ocean wave, rolling from one side to the next, yet it moved so silently, a predator in an unfamiliar sea. She tore her gaze away, looking to Harbinger instead, and mouthed, “Leviathan?”

  Harbinger met her eyes and nodded, then watched until the monster disappeared, first from above and then beyond the horizon—it took minutes, surely, yet Tallora swore she remained in stasis for hours.

  “There are other leviathans in the sea,” Harbinger whispered, beckoning for her to follow. “Yu’Khrall is simply the most violent of them. However, your presence will be unappreciated, given you opened his prison.” Objection rose in Tallora’s being, but Harbinger held up a hand. “I know, I know. If it is a consolation, they will not be so keen on me either, given he and I share blood.”

  Tallora stilled her tongue, contemplating the merit of asking what might be a rude question to someone currently assisting her in saving the world. However, Harbinger was largely unoffendable, she’d learned. She met her eerie gaze, mesmerized by that one eye, and asked, “Why do they hate him? And why do you hate him?”

  “The story says that Yu’Khrall was the most powerful leviathan in Sha’Demoni—the largest, and the most vicious. Always hungry; always seeking power. He killed the leviathan Yu’Erit and became Onias’ favorite. Onias, for all his power, cannot move from his domain. He has become too large. Infinite power, but stunted in how he can wield it. And so Yu’Khrall was his best and greatest, and the other leviathans feared him—until he suddenly lost his mind.”

  “Lost his mind?”

  “Lost his mind. He and Goddess Ilune engaged in battle for reason I do not know, and he won—then he began rampaging across Sha’Demoni, consuming innocent denizens, but there were not enough. He came to your world and continued his carnage across the sea. That is when Neoma sealed him away.” Harbinger’s sneer could have rotted meat, so bitter it was. “Does that answer your question?”

  She had once heard a similar tale from Dauriel. “Those are reasons to fear him, yes,” Tallora replied, sensing the radiant disdain from her companion, “but none of that involves you. Is that the only reason?”

  Harbinger said, “It is complicated,” and fell silent. Around them, Sha’Demoni remained stagnant, the ripples behind their tails and tentacles like a tsunami on a serene beach.

  Minutes passed before Harbinger spoke again. “My mother was a human. All Onians are descended from humans.”

  The noise of her words startled Tallora. “My ancestors were as well. We’re all children of Tortalga—or Onias, in your case.”

  “Tortalga is an angel, and a hermit, but not a bad man. His children were brought into the world through love. But can you imagine falling into Onias’ realm? You know what they say? That to gaze upon him brings even the most assured to madness?”

  “You mentioned that, once.”

  “It is true. I have never seen my grandfather, Tallora—on the occasions I have had to directly communicate with him, I bring a mirror. The fact of the matter is, the women he impregnates literally burst within months of conception, leaving a little parasitic leviathan to feast on their remains.”

  Tallora’s stomach clenched at the thought. “Staella’s Grace . . .”

  “A brutal beginning. Mine was not much better. Demon morality is very different than ours—some leviathans adopt Demoni Law, while others hold a conscience enough to never procreate. As for me, I distrust them all. My father is a monster; he would eat me too, if he saw me.”

  Tallora recalled a memory of what felt like a lifetime ago—Dauriel standing between she and General Khastra on the beach, who by all accounts was as demonic as the leviathans. Despite the sincere love between them, Khastra might have killed Dauriel then and there—something Tallora simply couldn’t fathom.

  “Once Yu’Khrall has rested and eaten his fill, he will move on,” Harbinger continued. “For now, the uplanders are safe, but who can say, once he has rampaged across the sea.”

  Tallora recalled how Harbinger had used her tentacles to crawl above land as an insect; the image of Yu’Khrall doing the same caused her skin to turn to ice. “Can Onias not stop him? He’ll lose his power if Yu’Khrall slays all his followers.”

  Harbinger shook her head. “Demonic gods cannot leave their realms, just as angels cannot either. Perhaps if we could convince another leviathan to host him, but they would surely die in the process. None would ever agree.”

  “Forgive me, but what about you?”

  “You do not know much of channeling demonic gods, do you.” Harbinger’s eye surveyed the area ahead, but all the horizon seemed clear. “Channeling any god sucks the life out of you, reducing your lifespan by years—some immortals can handle it, if they have the magical capacity. In dire circumstances, a mortal can channel a god, usually for some act of heroism, though they’ll perish to the god’s power—then, the god is banished back to their realm. The Speaker of Moratham is always a son of Morathma, so it is a calling, and one he may live through. Demon gods are more difficult to channel, however—they suck more life, they destroy their host, and so on. The Bringer of War is the only person who can channel Ku’Shya and live. Rumors have spread that Izthuni, the Lurker, has found an undead hostess he calls upon. To channel Onias would be a death sentence, and so no leviathan would agree to it. So why not me? Because I would die within minutes, even as an immortal.”

  Tallora followed Harbinger’s gaze across the horizon, the eerie silence unsettling.

  “So what happened with Solvira?”

  Startled, Tallora looked to Harbinger, noted the curiosity in her stare. “Excuse me?”

  “Earlier you said to ask about Solvira and Kal. What happened?”

  The rawness of the betrayal still burned. Tallora clenched her fists as they swam. “Empress Dauriel listened to everything we told her, and instead of using it for peace, she used it as collateral. She killed the Speaker and the Morathan Envoy. She captured Kal and King Merl to hold as hostages and keep the Tortalgan Sea in line while they marched on Moratham.” Bit
terness stained her words, but she had nothing to hide—not from Harbinger. “Chemon discovered Dauriel and mine’s true relationship and told King Merl, who gave the order. Somehow he knew what the story meant—something about a vision; I don’t know. So I suppose you can be angry with me. My crime was trusting Dauriel—”

  The name choked in her throat. Her nails dug into her palm as she warded away fresh tears.

  “I am sorry,” Harbinger said softly, the sincerity of it startling. “Y-You are the Heart of Silver Flame, so I thought she cared about . . .”

  Perhaps she stopped because of how Tallora’s face had twisted from pain. Tallora covered her eyes with her palms, determined to ward away the hurt. Now was not the time to fall into bed and sob—it might not ever be. But as she sucked in a painful breath, a hand gently touched her shoulder. Tallora looked up, surprised to see Harbinger looking contrite. “I apologize. I misspoke.”

  “You really didn’t though,” Tallora replied, managing a laugh, though it certainly carried a sob. “All she’s ever wanted was a war with Moratham—to be known as the empress who destroyed the Desert Sands. And it isn’t a crime to want to bring glory to her goddess by defeating her enemy, but she still betrayed me.”

  “Speak of it. We have a few more hours ahead of us.”

  The memory remained raw and visceral. Tallora clenched her jaw, the words painful to contemplate, but she forced herself to speak. “She does care, but she can’t care more about me than she cares for her kingdom. It broke her heart to do it, but she still did it.” Shaking her head, Tallora managed a gasping breath. “I don’t know how I’m allowed to feel.”

  Their shared moments of vulnerability shone like gold—the Dauriel who could never bear children; Dauriel, who loved beautiful things yet saw no beauty in herself, who cried when they made love, who had once thrown away her life to save Tallora’s—