Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) by Kathryn Kingsley (great novels to read txt) 📕

Jakob smiled. “Good. I think a lot of the others aren’t used to the road. I don’t mind it. I’ve traveled my whole life. When I stay in one place for too long, either something bad happens or I feel restless.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Every time they fell into silence for more than a minute, Jakob broke it with a question. Dtu answered each one patiently. He wasn’t quite sure why. He walked along beside Jakob, towering over his smaller frame, and found himself oddly fascinated by the fearless, foolish little mortal.

Soon, they set up camp. The humans gathered firewood under careful supervision and set up several fires scattered along the road. If anyone happened across them, they would have a hard time getting through to continue on their way. Dtu couldn’t quite make himself care. Let any travelers go through the trees. He was herding a pack of frightened mortals to what would likely be the end of their lives.

He couldn’t imagine any way that this would end well for them. Unmarked, abandoned, and in a world designed to prey on creatures like them. Dtu lurked by the shadows and pondered his current lot in life—caretaker to wayward mortals.

The last thing he expected was to be hailed by, of course, Jakob, waving him over to a spot by the fire. He should refuse. He should stay where he was. It was a better place to observe what might be coming down the road toward them or any shambling carcasses that might come from the woods.

But when Jakob waved him over again, Dtu let out a long and heavy sigh. I am a fool. He padded toward the fire. “Yes, little human?”

The others sitting by the fire shrank back but did not run. They came from a world of horror and gore, after all. Perhaps less fantastical than his, but no more friendly.

“Join us. Talk with the others.” Jakob was smiling up at him.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Touché, human.

Dtu sat down, folding his paws in front of him. “Very well.”

“Do you eat?” Jakob held out a piece of dried meat to him.

It smelled disgusting. Far too salty. Dtu kept himself from sneezing. “Yes, but not with others.” He paused and remembered his manners. “But thank you.”

“What…are you?” asked a very young woman. She was barely more than a child with matted hair braided to fall behind her in long, dirty blonde strings. Under…had no children. It was not a place for them.

What have you done, Ancients of old?

“I am a king of Under. I was human once, but that time has long since passed. I am over five thousand years old. I fear I am what you see before you. I am Dtu, that is all.”

They all fell silent. Then someone let out a single choked sob.

He felt like he had said something wrong.

He hated dealing with mortals.

This was going to be a very long night.

10

Ember woke in the middle of what she supposed was the night. She only knew it was so by the clock that sat quietly ticking by the wall. It said it was nearly two, and she assumed she hadn’t slept all the way until the following afternoon.

Namely because she was still a little tipsy. She yawned, stretched, and rolled over, trying to fall back asleep. But something kept her awake. Something scratching at the back of her mind. A realization that must have come to her in her dreams.

The old gods must be dead.

They failed…and my world is gone.

My gods are gone.

But how could that be? How could gods die? She climbed out of bed, sighed, and put on her clothes. She would have to scrub them in the tub later to get some of the grime off. No point in bathing if I put on dirty clothes.

Picking up the bottle of wine, she took a swig from it and moved the chair from where she had wedged it under the door. It was a risk to leave her bag of supplies and her weapons behind. She wavered for a moment, debating taking everything with her. It might seem rude. I don’t want to offend them.

What good is any of it really going to do me anymore, anyway? She thought about the creature she saw on the street—the “bellows”—and shuddered. Her spear and knife weren’t going to do much good against things like that.

Years of training and surviving in a world filled with hungry, swarming corpses argued back that anything was better than nothing.

Compromising in her head with both halves, she took her knife and tucked it into her belt. She’d leave her bag and spear behind for now. Picking up the bottle of wine, she headed out of the room and began to retrace her steps toward the sanctuary.

The building was silent. Everyone must be asleep. Everything was so dark. It must get depressing to live in a world without the sun.

She supposed everyone must adjust to it. The moonlight streaming in from the windows was dim. She could only see one in the sky when she glanced out the glass—and it was a deep, dark purple. It didn’t help the darkness much.

After a few minutes and another few swigs of wine, she reached the sanctuary. The candles had all been extinguished, and the purple moon shone through the shattered windows, casting barely-there and nearly ethereal shadows of their broken leadwork across the carpet like claws reaching across the floor.

She shivered.

At least I’m used to walking around in the dark…

It had always been too risky to carry a torch when she had to move at night in Gioll. Drengil were attracted by anything out of the ordinary. Sound, light…any sign of life. Being unheard, unseen, and unsmelled was the only way to survive in her world.

One got used to finding their way in the dark if survival depended on it.

But the eerie lack of light didn’t do much to help the disturbing nature of the statues that stood in