they looked up, and he saw the faces of his companions turn pleading gazes to him.
‘Look,’ the man commanded, and it was so. ‘They are lesser than us.’
Gariath howled, swinging his arms wildly before the shadows fell upon him, consumed in swathes of blackness. Lenk winced, eyes unable to shut themselves against the stinging smoke.
‘I don’t want to . . .’ he whimpered.
‘You do not have a choice,’ the man uttered. ‘We have our duty.’
Asper shrieked, fervently babbling indecipherable prayers as the shadows dragged her into the gloom. Lenk felt tears brimming upon his lids.
‘Please—’
‘And our duty,’ the man continued, unheeding, ‘is to cleanse. As we cleansed the Deepshriek, as we cleansed the Abysmyth, so we shall continue. We shall do as we must, for no one else can.’
Dreadaeleon collapsed, the fire in his eyes sputtering out to be replaced by blackness.
‘No, it can’t—’
‘It will. You cannot recall what suffering was necessary to create us. If more suffering is needed to remind you of our duty . . .’
Denaos twitched, convulsed, tore apart as the shadowy tendrils raked and whispered at his body.
‘I want—’
‘Your wants are meaningless. Our duty is all. They are hindrances. ’
Kataria’s body was pale against the gloom as they lifted her up to the black sky, as if in offering. The fingers shivered and trembled against her skin, flowing over her stomach, wrapping about her neck, snaking over her legs as she was cocooned in the gloom. Her head rolled, limp, to expose her eyes, bright and green, locked on to his. She stared at him as she vanished into the darkness.
And smiled.
‘NO!’ Lenk roared, collapsing to his knees. ‘No, no, no . . .’
When he opened his eyes again, he was in a vast field of darkness, no flames, no death. All that remained were him, and the two great blue eyes focused upon him, pitiless and cold.
‘The gift shall not be wasted,’ the voice whispered. ‘The duty is all encompassing. Do what must be done.’
Lenk opened his mouth to scream, his voice silenced as the darkness flooded past his lips and filled him completely.
He awoke not with a start, but with a snap of eyes. Not with fear, but with a cold certainty. Not with thunder in his heart, but a single drop of sweat that slid down his brow and murmured as it dripped past his ear.
Do what must be done, it uttered, voice mingling with the murmur of the surf, if more suffering is needed . . .
And his hand was slow and steady, balling up into a determined fist as he understood what the voice told him.
But he did not rise, suddenly aware of the weight upon his chest. He didn’t even see her until she peered down at him through a pair of hard, green eyes, glittering in the darkness. Her knees were on his chest, hands on his shoulders, the knife dark and grey against the moonlight.
‘Hey,’ Kataria muttered.
‘Hey,’ Lenk replied, blinking at her. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What I have to.’
She means to kill us, he heard within his own mind, but paid the warning no heed. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. He eyed the blade in her hand, its edge a line of silver in the darkness. No, he told himself, no, you can’t ask her to do that.
‘Can it wait?’ he asked.
The shict’s face twisted violently, her eyes softening as her mouth fell open, as if she hadn’t expected that one answer of all of them. ‘Wha-what?’
‘I need to do something,’ he said, placing a hand on her naked midriff. Her body shuddered under his touch, like a nervous beast. ‘Get off, please.’
She complied, falling off him as though she was pushed. On shaking legs, his arms barely strong enough to draw him, he got to his feet. He suddenly felt very weak, his body pleading with him to lie back down, to return to sleep and think upon this in the light of day. He could not afford to listen to it, could not afford to listen to his instincts or his mind.
They, too, were tainted, speaking with a voice not their own.
No, he told himself while he could still hear his own voice inside him, before it was drowned out completely, this is what it has to be. He staggered forwards, nearly pitching to the earth. He maintained his footing, his shaking hand rising and reaching for the sword lying upon the sand. This is how it has to end. There’s no other