From the Deep - Jaine Fenn Read online

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  From the Deep – Jaine Fenn

  About the Author

  An Extract from ‘Sylvaneth’

  A Black Library Publication

  eBook license

  From the Deep

  Jaine Fenn

  Something was wrong. Kelara kicked back from the kelp strand, her wave-wings trailing. A host of tiny, glowing nektons puffed out from between the shadowed stalks, mirroring her unease. An unwelcome presence touched the shallows of the Sea of Serpents: a malevolence on the tide.

  She sent a query to the Naereids tending the nearby kelp fronds.

  I sense nothing, said one.

  The nektons are restless, said another.

  Invaders come from the shore! said a third, panic evident in her tone.

  Kelara, more sensitive and powerful than her fellow custodians of the underwater forest, was sure now. We knew this day might come, my sisters, she called, silently but widely. Prepare yourselves!

  Before the first acknowledgements came back, the wall of tawny green in front of her quivered, then burst asunder.

  For a moment, Kelara thought she faced one of those who made their home in the green-above. But they had all fled or been killed long ago. Besides, this creature was huge – nearly as big as Kelara – and warped, its ragged furs bursting under the weight of its pallid, bloated body, limbs red with rashes and lesions. Its head was a great silvery sphere, encased in an open basketwork of woven rushes.

  The apparition struck. A long, rust-pitted spear thrust straight for her heart.

  She dodged, leaving a trail of bubbles.

  Her opponent turned, stubby legs kicking. Like Kelara, its overall form was that of a shore-dweller. But the newcomer lacked the fronds, membranes and wave-wings that allowed Kelara and her Naereids to speed through the water. Its movements were clumsy and slow.

  The invader brought its weapon round again. Kelara darted forward, under the probing spear. As the blow roiled the water over her head, she turned to swim face-up, towards the bright surface far above. When she passed beneath the interloper’s blubbery arm, she reached up and grasped the haft of its spear with both hands.

  The creature was strong, but she had surprised it. Its grip on the weapon slackened, and Kelara pulled the spear free of its pudgy hands. Her palms stung at the spear’s touch. Ignoring the pain, she sped round in a wide arc, rolling through the water. The silvery head turned, tracking her movements. She whirled the spear round, turning it point-first towards the creature. Then she charged.

  If her opponent saw the danger, it did not react. Instead of fleeing into the kelp or trying to defend itself, it turned its grotesque body, corpulent chest thrust forward.

  The spear met flesh. The force of the blow jarred Kelara’s arms, but the resistance was momentary. The rusty tip pierced the creature’s taut skin, slid deep into the blubber–

  –and all at once, her monstrous opponent came apart, skin splitting and peeling back, slack muscle and rotted organs erupting from its disintegrating carcass.

  Kelara released the spear, kicking frantically up and away. She knew what this was now. This was a Rotbringer, a minion of Chaos. The corruption that was slowly but inescapably consuming the Realm of Life had finally reached her domain. She must evade the creature’s foul touch or risk succumbing to the taint it carried.

  She swam clear, up into the light. When she turned to look back, little remained of the invader save an expanding cloud of brown and pink. A vile soul-stench permeated the disintegrating guts and blubber.

  Where the filthy remnants touched the kelp, the fronds curled and writhed, then dissolved. In moments, the nearest strands collapsed, dissipating into stringy slime.

  Most of her nektons had darted out of the creature’s way, but a few had been too slow. Caught in the noxious cloud, the nektons burst. Each tiny death stung Kelara’s consciousness. A new scent entered the water – that of rot and decay.

  No! Kelara’s cry was involuntary, but she had to watch. The corruption spread outwards, infecting the next strands along. Still the taint continued. Kelara let out a low, horrified moan. The neighbouring strands twitched and shrivelled at the edges, but they did not dissolve. The ball of blight was slowing, thank the Everqueen.

  Knowing – fearing – such an attack might happen, Kelara had instructed her Naereids to hone their fighting skills. They tended the kelp forests in the shallows that edged the Sea of Serpents, quietly keeping to themselves while so many of Alarielle’s other children fell. They sometimes needed to see off slow creatures of the deep who, disturbed by the chthonian motions of the serpents far below, swam up to the shallows. Grouchy, confused and often hungry, the sea beasts saw the kelp forests as a source of food, and had to be discouraged. But the threat of Chaos was something else. They must be ready to meet it.

  Kelara tuned into the voices of her sisters.

  I cannot hold it off!

  Help me!

  There are too many!

  Overlaying the fear and panic, Kelara sensed a furious determination to defend their forests to the death.

  But what with?

  Kelara had stashed an arsenal of sharpened serpents’ teeth in a cave to await such a day as this, but the attackers had used the cover of the kelp forests to sneak up on her people, and they had had no chance to arm themselves. She drew the only weapon she had to hand: the jagged-edged clamshell kept in a pouch at her waist, used to prune kelp stalks and scrape off parasites and encrustations.

  Turning her attention back to her sisters, she focused on the nearest, Anela, and swam towards her, crying, I am coming!

  Hurry!

  Kelara slid between the green strands. Ahead, the kelp twisted and jerked. Kelara tensed in case Anela had dispatched her opponent and this was the sick by-product of its demise.

  But Anela was still in combat with the tainted shore-dweller. The Naereid had one arm round its middle. This servant of Chaos showed a different form of corruption, being emaciated rather than bloated, and the skin on its scrawny limbs looked as if it had been scourged then left to fester. Its great silver head bobbed absurdly on its gaunt body.

  The two were in a tight, macabre embrace, each trying to evade yet wound the other. The Rotbringer swung its double-headed axe down while Anela dodged, at the same time slashing upwards with her scraper. Intent only on their opponent, neither had seen Kelara.

  She swam closer. Her fingertips brushed a strand of kelp, cut free during the fight. She grasped it; in such desperate times, anything might serve as a weapon.

  The combatants turned side-on. Kelara ducked as the notched axe sliced through the water in front of her face. If she got behind Anela’s foe, perhaps she could strike with her scraper. But what if the blow triggered the Rotbringer’s grotesque self-destruction?

  She swam back half a stroke and took hold of the other end of the kelp strand, doubling it up for extra strength. At a momentary pause in the frantic combat, she looped the kelp over the creature’s head, keeping a firm hold on both ends. The impromptu garrotte caught on the reeds around its silver forehead. The shiny surface rippled, and a gout of silver broke free and flew upwards.

  The loop slipped down around its neck. Kelara pressed her knees into the scabby back, and pulled with all her might. The loathsome brute’s frantic movements slowed, becoming sluggish.

  There was movement ahead, past the creature’s shoulder. Another Rotbringer pushed aside the kelp. Its spear was already out. Kelara shouted a silent warning to her sister.

  Too late. The new invader wriggled forward through
the water, kicking hard.

  It stabbed sure and low. The Chaos spear found its mark.

  The blow went in hard – straight through Anela and into her opponent’s gut.

  Kelara felt her sister die. The loss tore at her soul.

  She threw herself backwards as the vile creature dissolved into flesh and filth. Anela’s body arced away into the depths, impaled on the spear. Kelara looked away.

  Anela’s murderer had lost its weapon. But how could she kill it without releasing its corruption?

  Then she had an idea.

  Rather than closing, she stayed above her opponent, turning an effortless somersault over its head. It followed her movement, tilting its disconcertingly blank face up.

  As she passed over it, Kelara reached down. Her fingers curled around the reed cage encasing the giant silver head. She tugged hard, continuing her downwards sweep. The reed cage flexed and warped, ejecting bubbles, but didn’t move.

  Cursing to herself, Kelara released her hold, coming down behind the Rotbringer.

  Leather straps crossed the invader’s back, holding the cage in place. She slashed at the leather with her scraper, even as her opponent struggled to turn and face her. The central knot parted. For a moment she feared she had cut too deep and broached the corrupted flesh. But the foul creature did not explode.

  The Rotbringer flailed in the water, hands going to its head. Kelara kicked up again, grabbed the edge of the reed cage, and pulled as hard as she could. The invader briefly managed to hold on to the cage, then–

  Plop! The cage ripped free of the scrawny neck. Gouts of bubbles burst forth. Kelara darted out of range of the rising storm of silver.

  As she had hoped, there was a normal head under there. Normal by some values, anyway: this corrupted shore-dweller had patches of long, lank hair congealed with yellow pus from the weeping sores in the bald areas between. The hair moved like some vile parody of weed as the thing thrashed and gasped, hands raised to its throat. Deprived of the air in its bubble, it was drowning. Good: these were the first servants of Chaos she had met, and it appeared they were as helpless as any shore-dweller under water. Perhaps this explained why her realm had so far avoided the ravening despoliation she had distantly sensed in the green-above.

  Kelara looked on, half watching the kelp around her for new threats. It took long, excruciating moments for the tainted shore-dweller to die but she had to be sure. Finally, its threshing spasms ceased. Kelara tensed, ready to scoot backwards out of range of any post-mortal ‘gift’ of corruption. But the body just flopped back and sank slowly into the depths.

  Grinning in triumph, Kelara kicked upwards. From above she could see bare patches in the kelp all around. She called out to the dozens of other Naereids fighting their own battles nearby. Do not pierce them. Remove the contraptions on their heads to drown them!

  She headed for the nearest Naereid. Timid and unarmed, Finala was dodging and feinting, trying to tire a foe she had little hope of overcoming. Kelara swept in from overhead, pulling at the Rotbringer’s bubble-helmet. This one was not properly attached. It levered off at once to expose a bald head alive with maggoty growths. She did not stay to see the thing die, though she revelled in Finala’s triumphant mind-shout.

  In a nearby clearing – the result of an earlier death – two of her sisters struggled with a single opponent. As Kelara approached, one of them cut the ties while the other wrested its helmet off. Both Naereids swept back to watch the abomination drown.

  Kelara lent assistance to more of her sisters. Where a Naereid was already locked in combat, she darted in and wrestled the cage from her opponent’s head. In other cases, she acted as a distraction, allowing the Naereid to take the offensive and remove the helmet herself.

  Some of the foul creatures showed a vile cunning. Seeing the battle went against them, they plunged their own weapons into their breasts, triggering violent self-destruction. Kelara wondered what punishment awaited them on their return to the green-above, to make such a fate attractive. Or perhaps they were simply insane, mindless creatures of Chaos.

  Finally, as the last drowned invader’s body sank to the depths, Kelara surveyed the damage. One in ten of her Naereids had perished. A quarter of the forest had been destroyed or harmed. But the blight showed no sign of spreading beyond its initial, explosive infection. It could have been far worse.

  She led the uninjured Naereids down to where the kelp anchored itself to the rocky sea floor, to locate both their fallen sisters and the weapons and equipment of the Chaos invaders. Their own folk would remain untouched, though when time permitted Kelara would speak words of blessing over them, before leaving the silt-worms and spine-urchins to return the dead to the cycle of life. But every tainted item from the green-above had to be ejected from the sea.

  Once, before Chaos had wracked the land, this part of the coast had been the shore-dwellers’ greatest settlement. Here, they had honoured the sea-dwellers they lived in harmony with. But those days were long gone. Every last shore-dweller had either been slain or corrupted, their homes abandoned, their fields left barren.

  The corrupted shore-dwellers who attacked her realm must have been a lost enclave, or perhaps a tribe from distant lands; her knowledge of the wider realm beyond the immediate shoreline was limited. It had been years beyond counting since she had ventured into the green-above. As the shore-dwellers died or left, she had less and less reason to do so. Even the seasons had drifted out of kilter, as the mountains that shepherded the winter became erratic, turning summer to barren cold, then withdrawing to bring sharp and disastrous thaws. Terrible things had happened in the green-above, and it was best avoided.

  Once the weapons and fragmentary armour were gathered, Kelara and her Naereids took up their burdens, bundling them in green weed to protect themselves from the dark burn of corruption. Although the forces of Chaos should have moved on by now, Kelara would not let her Naereids go ashore without knowing what they faced. She took the initial steps out onto dry land alone.

  Her first feeling was of relief: although the air was ripe with decay, no Chaos horde lurked on the shore, poised to attack any who dared leave the sanctuary of the sea. There was no one here at all.

  Then she saw what the green-above had become.

  If she had been capable of shedding tears, she would have wept.

  Sorcery, you say?

  Aye, my lord cousin. Kelara had floated free of the palace floor; she pushed herself back down with a languid wave. Having to stand was one of several inconveniences she endured when she visited Lord Usniel’s reefcastle. Some enchantment trapped the air they needed in a reed cage around their heads.

  But it was easily overcome, yes? Just a matter of removing these breathing helmets. The Lord of the Deeps squatted on his dais. Usniel was only man-shaped from the waist up – as befitted the guardian of the great serpents, whose own tails reached into the very roots of the world, in place of legs he had a pair of coiled serpent-tails.

  At great cost, as I said! And if the forces of Chaos make such an effort once, then will they not try again?

  If they do, they will fail. Nothing from above can overcome us. This is not their realm, and never will be. He gestured heavily, leaving a tracery of lights in the water. His massive body, like the palace walls themselves, was encrusted with glowing nektons.

  I hope you are right. She hesitated, knowing the argument was most likely lost before she made it. Yet she had to try. But you did not see what has become of the green-above. There is no green there anymore, save the rancid green of slime and rot. Every part of the land is taken by pestilence. Beyond the tide-line, all that remains is a carpet of vile and stinking skull-like blooms protected by infected thorns.

  Hmm. I will have to take your word for that.

  Another reason she disliked coming here was the pressure – pressure the Lord of the Deeps needed to survive. Kelara lived
among the kelp forests of the shallows, and could briefly visit Usniel’s deep, dark realm. Usniel – older still than her – was both arbiter of and voice for the serpentine beings whose slow, cyclopean motions moved the very waters of the world. While some of the great creatures he commanded could come to the surface, Usniel himself could not leave the deeps.

  She deployed her final argument. My lord, the winter mountains themselves have succumbed to Chaos!

  The Jotenbergs? That cannot be! For the first time, Usniel’s craggy face showed concern. Like his world-serpents, the mountains that moved were creatures beyond the reach of war or death. They were the bedrock at the heart of the realm of Ghyran: massive, solid… incorruptible.

  I only saw one. But rot had infected it. And if one of the living winters has been corrupted, then surely others may have been. She pressed home her argument. Every year the blight intrudes deeper into the kelp forests. My Naereids can barely contain it. And now the forces of Chaos strike directly at our realm. Cousin, we have stood by for too long. We must fight back!

  For some moments Lord Usniel was silent. Finally, he said, Resist, yes, but not fight.

  Resistance is not enough! While Queen Alarielle rests in her sanctuary, the ruination grows unchecked. We must join with the sylvaneth, and all those in Ghyran who remain faithful to the Everqueen, and combat this threat. How can you just stand by?

  You speak out of turn, my lady. You are a creature of the shallows. It pains me that your guardianship of the kelp forests brings you so close to this corruption, but I am the Lord of the Deep and I do not feel–

  A soundless scream tore through the depths.

  The Everqueen!

  Kelara had never met her queen, but Alarielle was the Mother of All, font of all life in the Jade Kingdoms. Even while she remained hidden in her distant green sanctum, her presence had permeated the realm. But now her refuge had fallen. Her response was a world-shaking shriek of horror and dismay.

  Kelara looked to Usniel. His face reflected her shock.

  He lifted a heavy arm. Go to your folk, little cousin!