Ocean Of Fear (Book 6)

by William King

  “The Kraken has been here,” he said.

  “He can’t be too far ahead of us,” Kormak said.

  Zamara looked around and made an ironic sweep with his hand. “Unless he used the chutes to slide down the far side of this accursed pyramid.”

  “I suspect he went inside,” Kormak said. He walked over to the gaping pit in the ziggurat’s roof. Around its edges ran another ramp, smooth and flat and bounded by stonework carved with the faces of toad-headed demons. The ramp vanished down into the distance, turning at right angles at a new level below.

  “The Triturids obviously did not believe in stairs,” the captain said. He glanced over his shoulder. The soldiers had lined up on the edge of the ziggurat. One took a piss off its edge. Others watched the lights in the city below and whispered to each other. They seemed grateful to have reached a place where they could not be so easily ambushed. Frater Jonas sat down near the remains of the fire, letting his breathing subside.

  “We’re going to have to go in, aren’t we?” He spoke softly so that the others could not hear.

  “The Kraken came up here for a reason,” Kormak said, “and I doubt it was simply to enjoy the fine views of the city. Whatever he is looking for is somewhere below us.”

  “We’ll let the men get their breath back and then head down,” Zamara said.

  He paused for a while and then said, “Strange, strange place. I wonder what it was.”

  Frater Jonas picked himself and limped over. “I am guessing a temple.”

  Zamara walked over to the edge of the ziggurat. He tilted his head to one side, contemplating what he saw. “You could fit the port of Trefal into a small corner of this city. What happened to it? Why was it abandoned?”

  Jonas shrugged. “No one knows. I am curious about what is below.”

  “We all know what curiosity did to the cat,” said the captain. He turned to the marines. “Break out the lanterns and torches, you sea-dogs. We’re going below to find this bloody pirate and make him give an accounting for his crimes. And then we’ll give a different sort of accounting to the Chancellor when we collect the bounty on the Kraken’s head.”

  Tired as they were the men did not object. Kormak suspected they found the idea of facing pirates less intimidating than spending the night in the open atop the giant ziggurat.

  The torches flickered. The air stank of damp. Mould blotched the walls and ran like snot from the huge nostrils of the carved amphibian heads. The Elder Sign hanging against Kormak’s chest was warming up. He glanced over the banister than ran down the side of the ramp. A long way below him lights glittered. The sound of distant dripping water rippled through the building.

  More statues stood on hexagonal plinths. They resembled the Triturids, with enormous eyes and nostrils and long spindly limbs. Some of them carried multi-faceted gems, some of them brandished long spears tipped with serrated blades. Others carried blowpipes. All of them had great crested head-dresses attached to their brows. Long tongues protruded from some of their mouths.

  The statues put the marines on edge. They made Elder Signs over their breasts and offered up prayers to the Sun. They believed they were looking at demons, and they might not have been far wrong.

  The party emerged onto a landing.

  Torchlight revealed flecks of colour on the wall, tiny glittering parts of a great mosaic, made from gems and glass. Terves pried a stone loose with his dagger. “Glass,” he said in a tone somewhere between disgust and wonder.

  Kormak inspected the mosaic. It depicted a towering six-limbed amphibian locked in conflict with a tentacled giant. Around their feet squid-faced humanoids battled a horde of Triturids in a number of settings; atop hexagonal ziggurats, in the churning waters of the sea, under the eaves of a great forest.

  One mosaic depicted the tentacles of a gigantic monster erupting from the waves and smashing the walls of a city.

  The images were all distorted, much broader and rounder than they should have been, as if produced by a being with sight that worked differently than a human’s. Colours were subtly wrong although that might have been just the light.

  “Gods at war,” said Zamara, nodding at the mural.

  “It must have been something like that,” said Frater Jonas. “The Old Ones devastated kingdoms with their conflicts. They unleashed powers that twisted the world, that slew immortals, that laid waste to continents.”

  The monotonous drip, drip, drip continued. The air grew colder as it got moister. It was chilly in the depths of the pyramid in a way it had not been outside.

  “What was this place?” Zamara asked. “The population of a small kingdom could live in here.”

  “Perhaps it has no function we would understand,” Kormak said. “The Elder demons did not think like we do.”

  “This was the biggest structure in the city, it seems fair to assume it was a palace or a god’s house,” said Jonas. He was speaking just to disagree, to find an outlet for his nervousness. Kormak had seen men bicker this way before.

  Something rippled and flowed a long way below, reflecting their lights and lights from elsewhere. A smell of rot filled the air. There was an oily taste on his tongue he had come to associate with the presence of blight.

  Memories of the great pyramid of Forghast flooded back, a structure constructed to channel magical energy according to the principles of geomancy. Perhaps this place followed the same principles. The captain and the priest still debated.

  “We need to get moving again,” Kormak said. “If we are going to find the Kraken before he gets what he came here for.”

  They reached the bottom of the ramp. It disappeared into blackish, stagnant water that reflected the light of their torches like oil would.

  Zamara ordered one of the soldiers he should go forward. Reluctantly the man walked down to the water’s edge and began to wade forward. The liquid rose to his calves then his thighs then his waist as he walked but it did not seem to get any deeper. The man turned and returned to the company and stood, water dripping from his sodden britches.

  “Cold,” he said. “And scummy.”

  “We’re going to have to go through it,” said Kormak.

  “But which way,” the captain said.

  Kormak glanced around. In the far distance, along a great tunnel-like corridor, lights could be seen. “That way looks as good as any other,” he said.

  The water sloshed by up to Kormak’s waist. It dragged at his limbs, slowing his movements. It chilled his legs. The uneasy feeling that things were lurking below the oily surface niggled at his mind.

  The currents tugged at his legs like tentacular monsters. He picked his way forward, fearing that there might be a great gaping hole in front of him.

  A scream rang out and a man vanished. His torch hit the water’s surface and extinguished with a hiss. Kormak moved towards him but a second later the soldier emerged from the water, liquid pouring from his hair and face. “Tripped,” he said. He glared around as if fearing that in the time he had been under water, the rest of them might have disappeared.

  A sloshing sound told Kormak that someone was at his shoulder. From the shape of the shadowy image reflected on the water, he knew it was Zamara.

  “This is an accursed place—tunnels full of water, giant sinkholes, inhuman statues. The sooner we are out of here, the better I will like it.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” Kormak said.

  “This would be a bad place to get caught by a sorcerer or his pet. We move too slowly and if we lose the lights, we’re done.”

  Kormak glanced back. Some of the men held ships storm lanterns, some carried torches. It seemed like they had enough light sources but he knew how quickly things could go wrong in a place like this.

  “They need light too,” Kormak said.

  “Do they?” Jonas asked.

  “The pirates do,” the captain said. “But does the sorcerer or his pet demon.”

  “You’re a ray of blessed sunshine, captain.”


  Zamara laughed. “I am tired. I am wet. I am cold. And I don’t mind admitting I am a trifle worried.”

  He meant he was scared almost witless but he could not say so in front of the men. Command must always look confident.

  Ledges appeared on either side of the path, turning the passageway into another canal. Kormak pulled himself out of the water onto hexagonal flagstones. All around men passed their torches to others and clambered out of the murk. They set their lanterns on the edge of the ledge as they pulled themselves up. Even this brief respite from the chilly water cheered the men. Kormak guessed it was only a matter of time before cold wet clothing brought the misery back.

  The waters of the tunnel rippled, as if displaced by something below the surface. A man in the channel screamed. Blood billowed out around him. The victim splashed and shrieked then disappeared below the water. When he emerged something clung to his arm. It was about the size of a man’s head, teardrop shaped, with six tiny limbs and a long tail. It bore as much resemblance to the Triturids as a tadpole to a toad. It came to Kormak the things were the spawn of the city’s amphibian inhabitants.

  More men shrieked and stumbled in the water. Kormak reached down and grabbed one by the arm. The man howled and writhed and made it difficult for the Guardian to keep his grip. The spawn had sunk its teeth into his flesh and would not let go. Its jaws had closed like a mantrap and looked just as powerful.

  “Be still!” Kormak shouted at the flailing man. He was afraid of being pulled into the water himself. Zamara’s blade flashed out and skewered the little monster but it still would not let go. The screaming man twisted again and his shirt gave way. Kormak’s fingers found no purchase on his slick flesh and the man disappeared below the water.

  A few heartbeats later everything was still. There was no sign of the men who had vanished. Blood made the waters darker.

  “We were lucky,” said Frater Jonas. “They did not attack us as we crossed the main chamber. If we had all been in the water then...”

  He did not need to finish that thought. It was darker now. They had lost many of the torches and lanterns.

  Zamara’s face looked ghastly in the dim light. Over half his command lay dead and he still had not caught sight of the man they hunted. The soldiers had a haggard desperate quality to them. They did not know what to do. They would have turned back except for the fact that no one wanted to get into the water.

  “Those were the children of the things we fought above,” said Jonas. “They were spawn!”

  “Yes,” Kormak said.

  “This is a birthing chamber then. No wonder they tried so hard to keep us away. They were trying to protect the place.”

  “Let’s hope the Kraken and his men suffered as much as we have on the way in.”

  “I suspect he was better prepared than we were. He had maps. He had old books. He had relics.”

  “He certainly spent a lot of time and effort to get here. We need to find out what for.”

  They fell silent. All of them were wondering what exactly could draw a man to a place like this.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AHEAD THE RAMP led up through a great hexagonal archway, over which a green gem, the size of a human head, glowed faintly. The arch was perhaps three times the height of a man. Two grooves marked the floor. It looked as if two halves of a doorway had receded into the wall.

  Inside the chamber the floor curved downward into a bowl. A mosaic showing more images of Triturids glittered amid the stonework. Around the walls of the chamber, galleries looked down. This place might once have been an arena.

  In the centre a huge idol squatted atop an altar. It looked like a Triturid: six-limbed, newt-like, with huge protruding eyes and a massive, neckless head. Its limbs were thicker and much more monstrous and each ended in huge claws. Even hunched, its head rose higher than Kormak’s though he stood on the ledge.

  Around its neck a balefully glowing gem hung on a copper chain. Blood splashed the statue. A dozen corpses in the motley garb of pirates sprawled around it. Something had shredded their flesh. In their midst a black-cowled figure lay. Something about the shape told Kormak it wasn’t human.

  “Looks like we found the Kraken’s crew,” said Frater Jonas.

  “Some of them,” said Zamara. “There’s only half a dozen corpses. He should have more like fifty men.”

  “If they didn’t die on the way in,” said Jonas.

  “That must be the Black Priest,” Kormak said. The black-cloaked figure lay nearest to the foot of the statue. A jelly-like substance soiled its clothing.

  There was no sign of anything that might have killed the pirates. If there was a trap, he had no clue as to its nature.

  “You think the Quan turned on its allies?” Zamara asked. “This looks like demon work.”

  Jonas snorted. “How would you know what demon work looked like?”

  “This was certainly not done by men, now, was it?” the captain replied.

  Kormak sought clues amid the carnage. The dead men lay in the depression in the stone floor below them. They were all on the mosaic, near the monstrous idol.

  “Where is the Kraken?” Zamara asked. “Where are the rest of the crew?”

  Kormak studied the galleries above them. No one was visible. There were no lights. Men might be crouching down behind the balustrades. If so, what were they waiting for?

  “That gem is probably what they came for?” Zamara said. He licked his lips.

  “And something stopped them from getting it. Something that killed those pirates and the Quan.” Jonas said.

  “There’s something guarding it then,” said Jonas.

  “In my experience there usually is in a place like this.”

  “It’s good that you have some experience of situations like this, Sir Kormak,” said Zamara, a note of cool irony in his voice. “I’m glad someone has.”

  Kormak shrugged.

  “And what does your vast experience suggest we should do now?” Zamara asked.

  “Leave the thing well alone.”

  “The Kraken thought it worth coming all this way for,” said Jonas.

  “Just from the look of it, it’s worth a king’s ransom,” said Zamara. Both men exchanged glances. The gem was worth a lot more than the bounty Aemon of Siderea would pay for the Kraken. They had come all this way themselves and if they could not return with the pirate’s head, they could go back with something even more valuable.

  “I would not do that if I were you,” said Kormak. “The gem is a source of magical power. Look at the way it glows

  “We do not all have your admirable capacity for self-denial, Guardian,” said Zamara. “Terves go fetch the gem.”

  Terves looked at Kormak. Kormak shook his head. Terves looked at the priest and his captain and both of them nodded.

  “A triple share for the man who brings me that gem,” said Zamara.

  Terves took a slow step towards the great idol. A squad of the younger soldiers, forgetting their fear, raced ahead to the idol. One of them scrambled up onto its legs and reached up to get the gem.

  The statue’s eyes opened. The soldiers froze.

  The idol swept out a huge webbed claw and removed the head of the nearest marine. The monster reared on its two hind legs.

  Zamara’s mouth hung open. His eyes were wide. He swallowed and then shouted, “Fire! Fire! Fire!”

  A hail of crossbow bolts hit the beast, emerging from its skin like needles from a pin-cushion. The creature opened its huge mouth, revealing endless rows of serrated teeth. A long sticky tongue flickered out and wrapped itself around another soldier, immobilising him. A second later, a huge claw swiped down, disembowelling the victim.

  The huge arms descended and two more of the treasure seekers fell. Ribs crunched as the giant stood upon him, reduced flesh to jelly. The crossbowmen cranked the windlasses of their weapons, trying to draw the lines tight so they could fire again. Jonas knelt down and presented his holy symbol as he recited
a prayer. Zamara shouted at his men, “Stand your ground!”

  The enormous creature lumbered forwards, reached out with a huge talon and dragged another squirming soldier to its mouth. Enormous jaws snapped shut. The man’s body flopped to the ground, blood spurting from the stump of his neck. The creature spat. The soldier’s crushed head arced down and rolled to Kormak’s feet. Eyes stared up at the Guardian in horror.

  Kormak leapt into the pit. His sword swept out, catching the monster behind the ankle. The limb flopped, hamstrung. Blackish blood poured forth. Relief surged through the Guardian. The creature was a living thing at least, not an animated statue.

  A massive paw swept downward. Displaced air rushed past Kormak’s head as he ducked. He rolled to one side and slashed upwards with his blade. Dwarf-forged steel clove the creature’s belly and sent entrails squirming forth.

  The monster’s four legs enabled it to remain upright despite its crippled rear limb. It twisted to face Kormak and its long tongue flickered out. Kormak’s blade severed its tip. Black blood spurted into his face, hitting him in the eyes, blinding him.

  By instinct he threw himself backwards as a webbed foot crashed down where he had been. He wiped at his eyes, knowing these few seconds of blindness were most likely going to cost him his life.

  A war cry bellowed out from close by. The cleaver sound of a blade biting flesh filled Kormak’s ears. When he had cleared his stinging eyes he saw Terves back-pedalling away from the monster, waving his blade, trying to hold its attention.

  Kormak chopped two-handed at the brute’s rear leg, severing it just below where the knee would have been in a man. It flopped down, massive jaw impacting the ground in front of Terves. The soldier stabbed down with his sword driving it through the creature’s eye. Its head tilted to one side and it began to rear up, refusing to die.

  Kormak leapt onto its slippery back and drove his blade downwards into the base of the creature’s skull where the head met the spine. Vertebrae severed. The beast let out one last frantic croak, twitched and lay still. Terves stood nearby, panting. Kormak took a deep breath.