The Skybound Sea tag-3

by Sam Sykes

  She squinted to see them, to make them out.

  Are those. . tentacles?

  The scream that burst out of the darkness shook her back to her senses. An inhuman shrieked boiled out of the back of the cavern, echoed through her skull as it did through the chamber. She turned away, shut her eyes, instinctively tried to clasp her hands over her ears even as the chains held her tight, chiding her with a rattle of links.

  They faded, eventually. She opened her eyes. The breath immediately left her once more as she stared into a pair of eyes alight with crimson fire not a foot away from her.

  “How did this happen?” Sheraptus asked.

  He thrust the blackened pieces upon his palm at her. It had once been a living thing, she deduced by noting the charred remains of a jointed leg, even if everything else was soot and charcoal.

  She looked from the remains to him. She should have cursed at him, she knew. Spat in his face, maybe. All she could form, as his mouth twisted into an expectant frown, was a single word.

  “Huh?”

  “Why does this thing exist?” His voice was eerily ponderous, as though he were talking to the blackened husk and not her. “It was so small that I barely had to move my fingers, barely had to think and. .”

  He turned his hand over, let the fragments fall to ashes.

  “It simply turned to nothing,” he whispered. “Why?”

  The fire burning in his eyes could not burn nearly hot enough to obscure the glimmer in his stare, the sort of excited flashing of a boy with a new toy right before he accidentally breaks it. It unnerved her to see it, even without the malicious red glow that strained to obscure it. But she forced herself to look. She forced herself to speak.

  “Because you killed it.”

  He frowned, the glimmer waning, as though he had hoped that wasn’t the case.

  “Why?” he asked.

  For lack of anything else, she simply stared.

  Is this it? she asked herself. Is this the man that thinks he’s a god? He doesn’t even know why he kills. He’s not a god. He has. .

  “Nothing.”

  “What?”

  She wasn’t even aware that the word had slipped out until he frowned at her. After she was, though, the rest came easily.

  “You killed it because you have nothing else. You killed it because that’s what you do. You destroy. You hurt people.” She drew in a staggering breath, but the words came flooding out, impossible to stop. “Because whatever made you, they made you with nothing else but that purpose. You don’t know why, you don’t know how. You know nothing but pain, and without pain, you are nothing.”

  It didn’t feel good to say it. It felt necessary, as necessary as the deep breath that came after she said it. It came into her lungs clean, despite the soot, the heat, and the suffering surrounding her. That felt good.

  It would have felt better if Sheraptus hadn’t smiled broadly and spoke.

  “Exactly.”

  She recoiled, the very words striking her just when she thought he couldn’t say anything more depraved. He didn’t notice her reaction, he didn’t notice she was there as he turned around and made a grand, sweeping gesture.

  “Created to destroy, created to kill, that makes sense,” he said to the cavern as he paced about its circular length. “Weapons need to be forged. Nethra has to be channeled. But this?” He looked down at the black, sooty smear on the floor. “What purpose is there in something so weak?”

  His gaze drifted to Nai, hanging helplessly in her chains. Asper felt her bowels turn to water as though he had looked at her instead. Her feet scrabbled against the floor, the chains pulling her back, forcing her to watch helplessly as he reached out, a pair of long, probing fingers gently brushing against Nai’s cheek.

  “What use is there for such a thing. .” he whispered.

  The fire in his eyes smoldered, painting Nai’s face crimson. She let out a soft whimper, daring not to speak, daring not to move as his fingers drifted lower, across her throat, toward her chest.

  “I DON’T KNOW!”

  It wasn’t a lie. She didn’t know the answer. She didn’t know why she screamed so suddenly. And she didn’t care. Sheraptus turned away from Nai, his gaze dimming to a faint glow. Asper watched long enough to see the girl go slack in her bonds again before turning to lock her gaze upon his and his upon hers.

  “No one knows,” she continued. “The Gods don’t tell us when we’re born.”

  “Then why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do anything you do?” he asked. “Why call out to gods if you can’t see them, if you can’t hear them and they don’t talk to you?”

  “They do. We have scriptures, prayers, hymnals, ritual. They tell us how to live, what to do,” she paused to put emphasis on her next words, “why we shouldn’t kill and-”

  “Those are not gods. They do not create, they were created.”

  “By the Gods.”

  “How?”

  “They told us-”

  “Then why do they not tell you now? What do these rituals and things do but ask more questions? Where do you get answers?”

  “They. . they. .” The words came slowly, like a knife being drawn out of her flesh. “They might not give us answers. The Gods might not even talk to us.” She said it aloud for the first time. “They might not even exist.”

  It hurt more than she thought.

  “They do.”

  Hurt turned to confusion the moment he spoke.

  “Where else could all this have come from?” he asked, shaking his head. “We have no trees in the Nether, no sand, no oceans.” He sighed. “No gods. But here? You have everything. And for what? What does it do for you? What is its purpose?”

  “Not everything has to have a purpose,” she said. “Some things are there not to kill or be killed, but simply to be. . right? They are there to be protected, cherished.” Her gaze drifted to Nai. “The Gods can’t possibly watch over everything.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Sheraptus snapped. “If trees are not created to be made into boats, then why are they here? What is metal if not to be made into swords? If something is meant to be, why is it so fragile?” He resumed his pacing, rubbing his crown. “All things must be created for a reason. Everything must have a purpose. What is theirs?”

  He whirled about. The fires in his eyes were stoked with desperation, leaping with such intensity that they seemed to engulf his face, leaving nothing but jagged teeth twisted in a grimace. He thrust a finger at her.

  “What is yours?”

  She wanted to look away, away from those eyes that had stared at her, away from those teeth that had grinned at her, away from that finger that had-

  Look at him, the thought leapt to her mind unbidden. It resounded with conviction from a place she did not know. Look at him and know that he’s not what they think he is. It held her head high, even as it wanted to bow. Look at him and know that he’s not what he thinks he is. It made her draw in a long, clean breath. Look at him. And he won’t look at her.

  “Perhaps,” she whispered, “it’s to tell you all this.”

  The fires in his eyes waned. Between shudders of crimson, flashes of white broke through. And in them, she could see something that had been stained by flame for a long, long time.

  Desperation.

  Fear.

  A hope that somehow, some way, everything that he was thinking was utterly and terribly wrong.

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  She shook her head, her chains rattling softly. “It’s never clear. Not without suffering.”

  “Suffering?”

  “Only with suffering comes understanding.” She closed her eyes, letting the truth of that settle upon her, atop the fear and the anger. “Great suffering.”

  He nodded solemnly. That which she felt within her she saw within him as his eyes smoldered, sputtered into empty whites.

  “They come to you with suffering,” he said, “when they
are needed. That is why you called to them,” he hesitated before continuing, “that night.”

  To stare into the white eyes of this man, as she had stared into the red eyes of the man who had violated her, should have been enough to destroy her. She should have collapsed, slumped in her chains, lost all will to raise her head again. But there was something in these eyes, something bright and vivid, that burned even more brightly than fire.

  This man was no god. This man could be made to see what he had done.

  She looked past him. Nai hung limply in her manacles, drawing in sharp, short breaths.

  For her sake, Asper had to believe that.

  “How much?” It was the edge in his voice that seized her attention, the glimmer in his eye that held it. “How much suffering before they appear?”

  “I don’t-” She paused, reconsidered. “Much,” she replied softly. “There is much suffering, much regret, much penance.”

  “And one cannot begin. . without the other.”

  In the instant he turned away from her, she saw it. In the corner of his eye, as though it had been hiding from her the whole time, there was a little too much of something. Perhaps it was too much of an eager glimmer in his eye, too easy a smile that came with too much knowing.

  She saw it.

  And in that instant, she knew that whatever had left him, it wasn’t cruelty.

  “No,” she whispered.

  Whether she had heard Asper or the sound of Sheraptus approaching, Nai looked up. What it took Asper until now to see, she found in an instant. Her face twisted up into a grimace, her hands clenched, she bit her lower lip so hard that blood gushed readily.

  “No. No.” Nai shook her head, fervor increasing with each word. “No, no, no, no, no.” She was all but flailing as he approached her, her chains rattling wildly, her heels scraping furiously against the floor as she tried to back away. “NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!”

  “Wait! WAIT!” Asper called after him. “This isn’t what I meant! This isn’t what you-”

  “It is,” Sheraptus said softly. “It makes perfect sense. Why would gods come unless called? Unless the need was great?”

  “I didn’t do anything!” Nai wailed. The cloth of her slippers wore through in a moment and soon, she was painting the floor with her blood as her feet desperately scrabbled. “I didn’t. I DIDN’T! I’ve been good! I. . I screamed! Please, no. Please, please, please, please-”

  “Stop!” Asper cried out, hurling herself at him. The chains caught her, chuckled in the rattle of links as they pulled her back to the wall. “This isn’t what I meant! Stop! Stop!”

  The metal of her manacles groaned, growing weary of her futile attempts. They tugged her back to the wall, pleading in creaking metal to spare herself the torment. She spoke louder to be heard over him, screaming wildly at him with all manner of pleas, all manner of curses.

  Between the chains and herself, she couldn’t hear the sound of metal sizzling, of stone cracking.

  Nai’s wailing ceased as he came upon her, looking her over with wide, glimmering eyes. She fell still in her chains, as though if she held just still enough, stayed just silent enough, he might move on. Even then, though, she drew in wheezing breaths, sniffling tears through her nostrils with each gasp.

  Sheraptus stood there, hands folded behind his back, calmly studying her. Asper held her breath, watching, waiting, praying.

  Humble do I pray and humble do I ask-

  Slowly, he unfolded his hands, raised them up to frame Nai’s face delicately as she winced.

  You who gave up Your body so that we might know-

  His fingers splayed out slowly, each joint creaking as they did, like the long legs of great purple spiders, the tips gently settling upon her temples and cheeks.

  I know I don’t deserve it, I know I doubted You but-

  “Please,” Nai whispered.

  Please-

  Sheraptus smiled gently.

  Please-

  The glimmer in his eyes became a spark.

  PLEASE.

  And he spoke a word.

  Nai’s scream was lost in the violent, laughing crackle of electricity. Asper watched, eyes wide, yearning to be blinded by the flashes of electricity that leapt from his fingertips in laughing lashes, sharing some sick joke with Nai’s flesh that only it found funny.

  “STOP!” Nai screamed, struggling to hold onto language. “STOP! PLEASE!”

  “Don’t beg me,” Sheraptus said gently. “Them. You have to ask them to come.”

  Smoke came in gray plumes, mercilessly refusing to hide the grimace of her face painted by flashes of blue, the shedding of her cloth as electric spears rent her garments. Asper could look away, to pray, to do anything.

  And without thought, without prayer, without blinking, she began to walk forward.

  “HELP! PLEASE!” Nai wailed. “TALANAS! DAEON! GALATAUR!”

  “There we are,” Sheraptus cooed encouragingly. “Just a little more now.”

  The flashes grew stronger, their laughter louder, their macabre jokes increasingly hilarious as they plucked at her skin. Hair smoked, stood on end. Her lips curled back to expose gums. A nipple blackened amidst a mass of twitching flesh.

  The chains caught Asper, tried to pull her back. She continued to walk forward, unthinking, unfeeling. The searing of her wrist, she did not notice. The shattering of stone behind her, she did not hear.

  “Louder, now, louder,” Sheraptus coaxed. “It can’t be too much longer now.”

  What tore out of Nai’s mouth was without words, without emotion. It was the kind of raw, vocal bile offered up when there was nothing left within her. From deep in the darkness beyond the chamber, more voices lent theirs to hers, more screaming joining with hers.

  They clashed like cathedral bells at first, each one striving to be heard over the other, before finding an agonized harmony, blending into a single perfect scream.

  Asper didn’t even hear the chains break, nor did she hear the sizzle of burning metal as the manacle fell from her left wrist, scorched and blackened. She noticed her palm glowing with hellish red light, the bones black and visible beneath a transparent sheath of skin, only when she raised it up, extended it authoritatively, marched toward the black figure.

  And wrapped it about Sheraptus’s skinny neck.

  Instantly, the laughter stopped, the screaming stopped, the speaking stopped. The lightning leapt back into Sheraptus’s hands, which calmly lowered themselves to his sides, as though he had simply lost interest.

  The only sign that anything was wrong was the sickening crack resounding in the silence as his shoulder popped out of place.

  “What. . what is. .” he gasped for a moment before there was a faint sucking sound, his windpipe collapsing.

  “I don’t know,” Asper said, tightening her grip. “But it was sent here for you.”

  Something broke beneath him, a shinbone snapping, realigning awkwardly, and snapping again until his right leg possessed six different joints. He collapsed to his knees, body trembling as though it were about to come undone.

  “You. .” he rasped in great, inward breaths, “you. . pure. . destruction.”

  Asper said nothing. The hellish red light of the arm intensified, grew fat off the suffering. Sheraptus held up an arm, watched it twist and diminish, as though something sucked the sinew right out of it until there was nothing left but brittle, marrowless bones.

  “Only. . gods. . Aeon in. . a human,” he rasped. “Gods. . help. .”

  Snap. His knee erupted.

  “Help. .”

  Snap. His arm folded in on itself.

  “Gods. .”

  Creak. His neck began to-

  “MASTER!”

  She heard the cry, heard the iron boots crashing on the stone floor. She had been discovered, she knew, even without looking to see the netherling charging up the corridor, sword at the ready. Not yet, she knew; they might kill her, but not before she could kill him.

  As the nethe
rling approached, she flew her right hand out errantly, intended to catch a blow meant for her neck, to swat impotently at the netherling, anything to buy just a few more moments to finish what she had started. She expected nothing.

  She certainly didn’t expect her fist to find the female’s ribcage.

  And she didn’t expect to feel it explode beneath her hand.

  The netherling fell backward, wailing and clutching her side. Asper felt her own grip on Sheraptus loosen as her wide-eyed attentions turned toward her right hand. Her wonderfully normal, uselessly normal right hand.

  Upon whose palm a faint, white dot of light began to glow, like a great eye opening for the first time.

  It stared at her and she stared at it, unblinking. Within it, she could feel her blood flow swiftly, perfectly, in perfect harmony with the beating of her heart. And even as it slowed, she felt the throbbing pain of her left hand diminish, its hellish red glow dim, only for the white pinprick of light to grow wider, the eye broader.

  She blinked. It stuttered.

  And then winked out completely.

  She continued to stare at her palm, once again perfectly normal. She stared right up until she heard the sound of metal boots two steps behind her.

  Xhai had come without warcry or concern, letting her fist speak for her. And Asper was sent reeling, succumbing to its argument as she flew across the cavern, struck the wall, slid to the floor.

  Xhai was upon her instantly, boot pressed to her throat, digging its sharp heel into the tender flesh of her neck. She gurgled, pounding at her foot with wonderful, useless, normal hands once more. Xhai narrowed her eyes, pressed a little harder.

  “STOP!”

  Sheraptus’s voice was barely a voice at all. More a suppurating gasp. His hand swept with no authority, but merely flailed.

  “Not kill. . her,” he rasped. “Take away. . sent for me. .”

  Xhai frowned, looking from him to her.

  “NOW!”

  He didn’t specify, Xhai didn’t ask. She reached down, seized Asper by her hair, and began to drag her away. The priestess didn’t care, her eyes fell to the girl hanging from the wall, whose blackened flesh still smoked, whose body still twitched.