by David Wood
The ocean’s surface broke and poured off the giant slick bulk of the creature. Its body rose, squid-like, one giant eye glowing so brightly green that he had to look away. And in redirecting his gaze he spotted its gaping maw, with rows and rows of sharp, scintillating teeth. As the beast drew him closer, a bizarre, tentacle-like tongue extended from the mouth, as thick around as his body, questing upwards. At the tip, opening and closing with a wet smacking sound, was a suction cup-like appendage, ringed with more, tiny razor-sharp teeth.
This is how it bites off the skull, Aston thought. And then it sucks the brain out.
He wondered what bizarre biological imperative had driven it to consume brains. Was it driven to eat anything else? Surely something this size would require a lot more sustenance than that, even to exist in this famished state. Was the desire for brains some by-product of the green deposits in the other creatures that otherwise sustained this beast more than simple meat might? He shook his head, trying to free his thoughts of science and concentrate only on survival. Did he have any chance at all?
Bloodstone. He remembered Jen cutting the tentacle with her dagger and that tentacle swiftly retreating. Could that be the answer? He scrabbled in his jacket and pulled free his own intricately carved dagger. With a yell of effort, he swept it down and gouged it into the shining wet flesh of the tentacle that encircled him. He saw a dark burst of shadow like he had seen before, a spurt of bright green ichor. A deep, resonant rumble of pain thrummed out from the creature, that grew into a shriek that he heard in his mind, but not his ears. Through his oneness with O’Donnell and all the other creatures, he knew they felt it, too. He gasped at the sharp blaze of agony in his mind as he felt it with them.
He sensed O’Donnell flinch in pain and surprise and the man dropped the idol into the churning sea. Aston felt a surge of hope as the overlord paused, stunned by the unexpected hurt and somehow partially disconnected now from all it knew of the cavern, all its sensation of feeding. The idol, in the hands of a living being, obviously amplified the beast’s attraction, drew it forth. With that connection severed, the idol in the water untouched, the Overlord began to sink back into the water, its grip on Aston loosening.
As a grin of triumph spread across his face, Aston saw through O’Donnell’s eyes as the madman scrabbled into the water and gathered up the idol again. As he recovered it, the connection between them all returned, strong and clear, and the coil about Aston tightened crushingly again.
44
Slater ran back and forth along a short stretch of the shore, trying desperately to see through the thick curtain of fog. He couldn’t be gone, not after all this. To be snatched up and carried away like that, she refused to allow that to be her last memory of Sam Aston. But she couldn’t put the image of Tate’s desecrated body slapping back onto the stone from her mind.
“Jo, I think we need to go!” Syed said, grabbing hold of her sleeve.
“No!” she shouted.
“There’s nothing we can do. We’ll be next. Let’s take our chances in the tunnels, find a way out.”
Jen Galicia stepped up, a bloodstone spear held in a white-knuckled grip. “I think she’s right, Slater. We have to go.”
“I won’t leave him!”
“You saw what it did to Tate!” Syed said, her voice tight with the effort not to cry.
“Look out!” Jen yelled, and the three of them ducked as another jet black, dripping tentacle whipped past them.
“We have to go!” Syed said.
They moved away from the water, ducking as the tentacle quested across the rock for them. Then a sudden, bass rumble made the ocean shiver and Digby O’Donnell cried out, as if in pain. Slater looked over and saw he had dropped the idol into the roiling sea. The tentacle reaching for them stilled for a moment, then slowly withdrew.
She frowned, looking from the retreating tentacle to Digby and back again. Then Dig was face down in the water, his back moving up and down as he thrashed around. He rose, triumphant, the glowing idol held aloft once more. Two more tentacles whipped back through the swirling mist, reaching for them.
“Get down!” Slater yelled, and all three of them dropped to the hard, cold stone as the tentacles crossed in the air above them, seeking and writhing. Slater understood. The idol was the key. Not just in terms of symbolism, but it somehow called the overlord. Directed the giant, instinct-driven animal mind of the thing. She had no idea how, but it seemed too evident to ignore.
Before the tentacles could loop back around again, she dashed forward and tried to wrest the strange statuette free of Digby’s grip. It was hot, searing her skin. She cried out, dropped back and scrabbled in her pockets for gloves. Warm sheepskin, the outer layer thick leather, she hoped they would be enough. She pulled them on and began to wrestle with Dig again. He cried out nonsensical babble, pulling the idol close to his body and trying to move deeper into the ocean, pulling her with him.
Slater was in good shape, but O’Donnell showed surprising strength. He let go with one hand and elbowed her in the mouth. She grunted in pain, staggered backward as she tasted blood, and sat heavily into the water. It swept up over her shoulders, splashed coldly into her face, but that had the advantage of clearing her head from the ringing of the blow.
“Fuck you, Digby!” she growled, and hauled herself back up, her clothes heavy from being sodden.
Another tentacle reached past, then she heard a grunt of effort and another bass moan as Jen Galicia slashed at the shining black flesh with her bloodstone spear. Digby cried out in pain along with the beast and Slater took her chance. She drove herself forward, chest deep in the cold sea, and swung a punch at Digby’s jaw. She connected with a satisfying crunch, made him grunt in pain, but he stayed up and didn’t release the idol.
Jen continued to slash and stab at the tentacles with her spear, trying to buy them time. Syed waded out into the sea, heading for Slater. She welcomed any help she could get against the crazed O’Donnell, but then screamed wordlessly as another thick tentacle snaked out of the mist and plucked Syed up and away.
Tears in her eyes, Slater turned her attention back to Digby, trying to catch up to him, but wading through the shoulder deep water was too hard. He was taller, stronger, able to keep his distance from her, grinning as he held the glowing idol above his head.
Slater growled, tried to push faster and saw Jen coming in from the other side, heading for Digby’s back. But did the woman have the strength to carry on? Her face was pale, darkness ringed her eyes. And was Aston still even alive? She had to believe he was, but even then, she was failing.
Through O’Donnell’s eyes, Aston witnessed Slater’s pain and struggle. He tried to take control of O’Donnell’s thoughts, tried to make the man drop the idol again, but ironically, it was the idol that seemed to make the man invulnerable to him. And once again, the creature’s awareness was back on the present and Aston was drawn in again. That thick tongue-like appendage with its slavering, teeth-filled sucker, reached up for him once more.
A sudden thought occurred to Aston, a memory of something O’Donnell had said. They do my bidding. He had been talking about the mantics, about how the group was safe from them if O’Donnell willed it. If he couldn’t convince Digby to do his bidding, maybe he could get the mantics to respond.
Several of them still milled around in the mist on the shore, confused by the complicated and contradictory thoughts of all those sharing the hive mind. Too much free will was being exerted on something that should work as one unit. Aston forced his attention to a small group of three of them near the struggle between Slater and O’Donnell. He put thoughts of threat and danger into their minds. Then he directed that thought at Digby O’Donnell, forced the mantics to see Digby as the danger, as the source of the confusion. “Finish him!” Aston shouted, with his voice and his mind. “Take him out!”
The three simple-minded creatures turned and waded out into the water as Aston felt the touch of cold, black slime on his face. He snapp
ed back to his own present and realized the tooth-filled sucker was about to clamp over the top of his head. With a shriek of panic, he slashed at it with his dagger.
The overlord bellowed in pain, quickly retracted a few feet, then immediately came for him again. Using all his strength, Aston drew back his arm and flung the dagger directly into the approaching, slavering maw.
45
Slater struggled with O’Donnell, coughing as the sea splashed into her face. But he was too strong, wouldn’t give up his grip on the idol, and only moved deeper into the water. Jen Galicia was halfway to reaching them when another tentacle swept by and drove her back. She slashed at it with her spear, and another deep groan came from beneath the waves. Then another one, louder and more pained than ever, even though Jen hadn’t struck the creature a second time.
Slater pulled back one hand and punched Digby in the face again. He laughed at her, spat out blood and a tooth, but still would not relinquish his grip on the idol.
Then Jen was screaming from near the shore. “Jo, look out! They’re coming!”
Slater turned, wondering who the hell they were, and her stomach dropped as she saw three mantics, surprisingly fast in the water, heading straight for her. She quickly stepped back, raising her hands to try to ward them off, but they all headed straight for Digby.
She barely had time to flinch away before they fell on the man. He cried out, “No!” in pain and disbelief, and then they were tearing him apart, his blood spreading in rapid clouds through the green water. The idol tumbled from his hands, splashed into the sea and began to sink.
Ducking a sweeping mantic forearm, Slater dove under, snatched the idol up, and quickly waded away. As she searched the shore, she turned to see Digby gone and the mantics floating further out, directionless.
“What are you going to do?” Jen asked.
“I don’t know! But this is the key, I’m sure of it.” Slater stared, wondering if she should hold it up like O’Donnell had done and try to will the beast away. But she hadn’t communed, she hadn’t eaten of the green stuff like Digby had. Like Aston had.
“How did Digby control it?” she asked.
Jen gave a humorless laugh. “That lunatic didn’t seem like he was in control of anything really,” she said. “More like he was just stirring it up.”
Slater remembered when O’Donnell had dropped the idol, how things had calmed momentarily before he had recovered it. There were no tentacles reaching for them now. Maybe the overlord was already going away. She needed to ensure that continued. She looked around, saw the fog seemed to be thinning, the waters less disturbed. She called Aston’s name, but got no reply.
“I don’t know how to end this!” she said, but fury, exhaustion, fear, all took hold and she wanted only to smash everything. She raised the idol high and smashed it into the ground. It thunked but didn’t shatter. It didn’t even appear to have a chip in it. Nothing seemed to change.
They both turned at the sound of a cry in the distance. “Aston?” Slater screamed.
She saw the bloodstone spear Jen still held, remembered its powerful effect against the beast. “Give me that,” she said, and Jen handed it over.
Slater took it in a two-handed grip and stabbed it into the idol. A blinding flash burned her eyes, and the statuette exploded. Her howl of shock and pain mingled with Jen’s as they were sent flying, shards of stone slicing into any exposed flesh. But with their cries, a deafening shriek filled the air, so loud Slater thought her ears would burst. The very ground shuddered and giant stalactites fell from high above, somewhere lost in mist, and splashed into the sea, or crashed and shattered onto the rocky ground all around them. As Slater and Jen grabbed hold of each other in an attempt to steady their stumbling on the heaving ground, a massive wave crashed into them. It lifted them high and fast. Slater had a moment to notice the cavern wall rushing toward her. Sharp pain blossomed in her head, a hollow thud rang in her ears, and everything went black.
46
Aston had watched with grim satisfaction as the dagger had slammed into the Overlord’s mouth and flash with darkness and green ichor. The creature bellowed, clearly hurt, and then Aston had seen through Digby’s eyes as the three mantics fell on the man. Everything became lost in a confusion of sights and sounds, he tasted O’Donnell’s flesh and blood even as the mantics tasted it, he felt the agony in the creature’s maw, he experienced Digby’s pain as he was torn apart. It all combined into a maelstrom of emotion that Aston was incapable of processing, that threatened to shut his mind off like a light switch, and some deep part of him welcomed that. Some part of him even desired it. Then through it all, he realized O’Donnell had dropped the icon. His connection dimmed, the thrumming, vibrating sensations lessened. The Overlord, lamenting its pain, began to sink back below the waves.
Aston opened his eyes, saw the scorched and damaged mouthpiece retract into a black and bony beak deep within the thick roots of the writhing tentacles. He allowed himself a smile, struggled to break free of the coils about him, but the Overlord would not let him go. Yet still it withdrew.
After all that, it’s going to drown me, Aston thought, incredulous. An incongruous, unlamented death. Unless Slater lived to remember him. Perhaps that would be enough.
He suppressed a gasp as the tentacle slipped beneath the surface and he was plunged into the icy water. Green luminescence flickered all around him and he was pulled deeper. He struggled, wished he still had the dagger to stab and slash at the limb that bound him, but he was useless in its grasp. He thought of Jo Slater and briefly, through the eyes of a mantic, caught sight of her and Jen Galicia, stumbling from the water onto the rocky shore. He saw her raise a spear, as the pressure built and his mind began to black out. At least she was still alive, he thought. And still fighting. About to stab something. He smiled. Fight on, Jo, he thought. Don’t ever quit.
A blinding flash seared his mind, pain arced through every nerve he had. A great, rumbling vibration rose up from the gargantuan beast as it sank below him and he was tumbled over in the churning, bubbling water. Turned over! His hands went to his body and he found it free of the restricting tentacle. The Overlord had released him, whether by design or by accident, maybe it had simply forgotten what it held. Regardless, he was free.
He swam upwards, following the rising bubbles, his lungs screaming for air, blackness encroaching on the edges of his vision. He broke the surface and gasped air in, coughed and spluttered, gasped again. But his clothes were heavy with water and dragged him back down. He fought once more to the surface, sucked in desperate air, then the waves closed over him once more.
He sensed the retreating presence of the Overlord as it sank back down to whatever stygian depths in which it dwelled, lonely, hungry, desolate. His heart ached for the thing. It had an intelligence that caused it pain. Like all cephalopods, it was smart, curious, playful, inquisitive. But it lived alone in the dark and it knew its fate, was driven mad by its isolation. There was nothing Aston could do for it. His struggling mind pictured it out in the open ocean. He imagined some underwater channel, like the one in Lake Kaarme that had allowed that prehistoric anachronism to travel between the lake and the open sea. Would people ever be able to somehow drill something similar to allow this leviathan to escape? Was such an enormous feat of engineering even possible? People would need to know about it first, at the very least. Or perhaps, with the idol destroyed, it would finally be called no longer, and starve. A slow and agonizing, but welcome death. And, as he sank back down again, Aston felt a sadness rise that he would never be able to tell anyone about it. Would Slater? Did she even know the half of it?
He gave up the struggle of trying to reach the surface, the muscles of his arms like jelly, unable any more to pull him through the sparkling sea. He reached out with his consciousness, trying to see through the eyes of anything still on the ocean shore. He found one mantic, realized the Overlord’s swift retreat back beneath the surface had caused a giant wave to smash the shore. E
verything was dead up there, this one mantic the only thing he could connect with other than the sea life that swarmed everywhere underneath.
He shook his head. After all that, even Slater hadn’t managed to survive. This foolish endeavor had killed them all. Then the mantic’s gaze fell upon a sodden lump up against the cavern wall, dark hair stuck wet across the back of the jacket. Slater’s body, face down. Grief swallowed his heart.
And then she stirred. Joy pushed the grief aside and Aston watched Jo Slater raise her head and look groggily around herself, eyes cinched narrow in pain. But she lived! What he would give for just one more kiss with her.
He bumped into something hard. Looking down, as the blackness began to close his vision to pinpoints, he saw the curving white shell of the huge turtle. Its green eyes met his and he saw himself, slack-faced. “Take me to the surface!” he begged with his mind, imagining himself laying across its back as it swam to the shore. Some sensation of acquiescence came from the creature and it rose up beneath him. He was lifted swiftly through the water, his lungs burning again. And then the sea sluiced off him and he gasped in air. The majestic creature bore him slowly to the shore and tipped him into the shallows. With the last of his strength, he crawled to the water’s edge and rolled onto his back before passing out.
47
Aston was shivering so much, his teeth rattled together. At least, he thought, that means I’m still alive. Unless it finally is a cold day in Hell.
