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Tome of the Undergates - Sam Sykes
- Дата:26.06.2024
- Категория: Фантастика и фэнтези / Фэнтези
- Название: Tome of the Undergates
- Автор: Sam Sykes
- Просмотров:2
- Комментариев:0
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Аудиокнига "Tome of the Undergates" от Sam Sykes
📚 "Tome of the Undergates" - захватывающее фэнтези приключение, которое погрузит вас в мир магии, опасностей и загадок. Главный герой, _Lenk_, вместе со своей командой отправляется на поиски древней артефакта, способного изменить ход истории. Но путешествие не обещает быть легким, ведь на пути героев становятся монстры, предательства и тайны прошлого.
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Об авторе
🖋 Sam Sykes - талантливый писатель фэнтези, чьи произведения завоевали сердца миллионов читателей по всему миру. Его увлекательные истории, наполненные экшеном и интригой, не оставят вас равнодушными. Погрузитесь в мир его воображения и отправьтесь в увлекательное путешествие вместе с героями его книг.
Не упустите возможность окунуться в мир фэнтези и приключений с аудиокнигой "Tome of the Undergates" от Sam Sykes на сайте knigi-online.info. Приключения, загадки и магия ждут вас!
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‘I. .’ His words had struck her squarely in the belly, leaving her breathless. ‘I don’t-’
‘Then don’t.’ He growled. ‘Twitch your little ears, if you want. Talk about your Gods as if they’re any different from their Gods, if it’s important to you, but never make the mistake of thinking you and I are anything alike.’ His eyes narrowed to angry obsidian slits. ‘In the end, you all look the same to me. Small, weak. .’ His tongue flicked out between his teeth, grazing the tip of her nose. ‘Vermin.’
He punctuated his words with a blast of hot air from his nostrils. In an instant, he rose up before her, seemingly even taller, broader and redder against the clear blue sky. She felt herself take a hesitant step backwards as he turned about slowly.
Whatever retort she might have had buzzing inside her mind was swatted aside like so many gnats as his tail came lashing up in a flash of crimson. It slapped her smartly across the cheek, sending her sprawling to the deck. Even the sound of her body hitting the wood was an insignificant whisper against the thunder of his footsteps.
‘You’ve been squealing those same threats for ages now!’ she shrieked after him, rubbing the red mark across her cheek. ‘If we’re all so beneath you, why not kill us all now?’ Her words were little bee-stings against his leathery back. ‘Why do you linger around us if you don’t like us?’
He paused and she sprang to her haunches, ready to move should he decide to give her more than just a kiss of his tail. Instead, the dragonman merely shuddered with a great breath and spoke without turning around.
‘If you’re desperate to prove yourself as more than human,’ he rumbled, ‘prove it to someone lesser than yourself.’
The sea of humanity parted before him as he strode across the deck, sailors practically climbing over each other to get out of his way. The hulking dragonman seemed unperturbed by it, growing taller with each frightened gaze cast his way as he lumbered towards the far side of the ship.
It was with grudging envy that she watched him, for as Kataria stood at the other end of the deck, she was all too aware of the great wall of round-ears that separated her from the only other non-human aboard. Her ears twitched, picking up concerns she couldn’t understand, humour she couldn’t comprehend, whispers she wasn’t privy to.
In Gariath’s wake, the humans had re-formed into a great mass of their own race, leaving her sitting beside the railing, alone.
Stupid, stinking lizard. Her thoughts immediately turned to scorn. Acts like he’s so much better than everyone else. As if being large enough to strangle anyone who disagrees with you is reason enough to act as though you’re beyond reproach.
She bit her lower lip; that actually did make sense.
Regardless, she countered herself, he has no reason to treat me like that. He has no reason to look down on me like I’m some filthy. . human!
Her anger shifted from the dragonman to the sailors bustling about the deck, each one occasionally glancing over his shoulder to see how close she was to them and make room accordingly.
Cowards.
Cowardice was the way of their race. Her father had said as much and now she knew it to be true. She recalled the aftermath of yesterday’s carnage. The crew of the Riptide, her humans had prevailed over the other, filthier humans with her help. While they screamed, she laughed. While they fumbled, she shot true. While they had soiled themselves, it was she who had pulled Lenk, one of her humans, away from danger.
She had deserved their respect from the very beginning as both a warrior and a shict. Now, her very presence demanded it.
And yet, they continued to prove their cowardice. She heard them even now, making envious, lewd remarks about her musculature. They skulked, casting shifty, wary glances her way. They hurried with the loading, undoubtedly eager to see her leave to chase some demon and die out at sea.
None of them had enough bravery to come forth and insult her to face.
‘Hey, moron.’
Her lips were curled in a snarl and her teeth bared as she whirled about. The blue eyes that met her fury were impassive and rolling in their sockets.
‘Yeah, you’re ferocious,’ Lenk said, half-yawning. ‘I’ll be sure to soil myself later.’ He extended a tin cup to her, a thick veil of steam rising from its lip. ‘Here.’
‘What is it?’ She took it and gave it a sniff, examining the thick, brown liquid sloshing about inside it curiously. ‘It smells awful.’
‘It’s coffee,’ he replied. ‘Tohanan brownbean, specifically; expensive stuff.’
‘Coffee,’ she murmured. She took a sip and blanched. ‘It tastes awful, too.’
‘That’s how you know it’s expensive.’
‘I guess that makes sense to a human.’
‘Not particularly,’ he said, shrugging. ‘It never made sense to me, at least.’ Taking a sip of his own brew, he forced a smile without much effort to convince behind it. ‘I suppose that makes me inhuman, then?’
Kataria should have smiled back, she knew, but her only responses were pursed lips and a heavy-lidded stare.
Inhuman.
The word hung in the air between them and she heard it every time she blinked. In the spaces where she should have seen darkness behind her eyes, she saw him instead. She saw him writhing, clutching his head, snarling at her in a voice that was not his own. In the moments between her breath and the beating of her own heart, she heard him as he shrieked at her.
STOP STARING AT US!
‘Stop,’ he said.
‘What?’ She blinked; the images were gone.
‘Stop looking at me that way,’ he muttered, taking a harsh sip, ‘it bothers me.’
‘Ah.’ She turned her gaze down to the brown brew in her hand and blinked. ‘Why are we drinking the expensive stuff, anyway?’
‘Argaol’s charity,’ he replied. ‘The good captain apparently wants us to depart in good spirits.’
‘Charity?’ She cocked a brow; that seemed an unlikely word to describe the man.
‘He said to think of it as a last meal for the soon-to-be-corpses. ’
‘Ah.’ She took a sip. ‘Thoughtful.’
‘Mm.’
The stillness of the morning was broken suddenly by the sound of something shrieking across the sea. The two glanced up and regarded the looming black spectacle approaching the Riptide.
The Linkmaster was alive in the waters, or at least alive in the same way a carcass crawling with flies was alive. Men scurried across its decks, pink dots against black timbers, variously swabbing, stitching and otherwise mending. From its railings dangled crude rope swings, men ensconced and busy at the hull. At the prow, one such man worked at the bright red lettering of the ship’s title, smothering its identity under a shell of black paint.
Kataria noted with some pride the wound where the ship’s hull had been shattered by the Riptide’s prow. It had been her precise shooting, shictish shooting, that had given the great wooden beast such a blow. Now, men dangled around the great mess of timbers, prying from its splinters what appeared to be thick, reeking chunks of quickly browning beef.
Kataria’s grin was small, restrained and wholly unpleasant.
‘Disgusting.’ Lenk grimaced as what might once have been a thigh was tugged free of the wood and plopped into the waters below, the latest course of a feast tended to by a noisy pack of gulls. ‘And to think, that’s our freedom.’
‘It is?’
‘According to Argaol.’ Lenk nodded. ‘He even renamed it Black Salvation for the occasion.’
‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘Well, if that demon we questioned is to be believed, the Abysmyth headed for the islands to the north. The waters there are too shallow for a large ship like the Riptide to navigate, so we’re taking the companion craft,’ he gestured over the ship’s starboard side, ‘out there.
‘Now, you might have noticed that thing is far too small to take us back to Toha, where civilisation and our pay await when and if we retrieve the tome and assuming at least one of us is still alive to deliver it.’
She nodded; the thought had occurred to her.
‘So, Argaol’s apparent plan is to let Sebast take the Black Salvation out after us.’ He took a hard swig, finishing the rest of his coffee. ‘In a few days, the ship should be ready for sailing. Presumably, it should take another day or two for Sebast to catch up with us.’
‘I see.’ Her ears twitched. ‘So, that gives us how much time to find the tome?’
‘About six days before we meet up with Sebast.’
‘So, going by what we know of the Abysmyth, you figure that gives us, what, one day to find where it went, another day to get the tome, two more days to reach wherever it is we’re supposed to reach and one more day to find Sebast.’ She blinked. ‘What do we do with the other day?’
Lenk’s nostrils quivered as he inhaled deeply. ‘Presumably?’
‘By all means,’ she answered.
‘Bury the dead.’
A stale wind swept across the deck. The feathers in Kataria’s hair wafted across her face as she stared down into her cup and swirled the liquid thoughtfully.
‘Good coffee.’
‘Mm.’
In the brightness of the morning, Kataria couldn’t help but notice a sudden change in Lenk. He was not a large man, standing only about as tall as herself, far shorter than most of his kind. Yet, today, as the sun gnawed at his back with hungry golden rays, he seemed smaller than he had been the night before. . diminished, somehow.
It was no mere physical change, nothing that sleeplessness alone could account for. He had changed so subtly that no one but she might notice. He stood slightly less straight, his back a little more crooked. His silver hair that had once gleamed bright and flowed in the breeze like liquid metal now hung limp and grey at his shoulders, still even as the wind tried to goad it into movement. For all that, though, his eyes had lost none of their lustre. They were still blue, still hard.
Still cold.
‘Lenk,’ she whispered.
He turned on her swiftly, a beast sensing danger, and her breath caught in her throat as he levelled his gaze at her. His eyes glimmered with an intellect not his own, flashing with a hard and stony presence for but a moment. When she blinked, his stare was softer, but no less wary.
‘Last night. .’ she continued, unintimidated.
‘You couldn’t sleep, either,’ he finished, nodding. ‘Frankly, if I broke wind as much as you do, I’d have a difficult time breathing, much less dozing off.’
‘That’s not what I was going to say.’
He sighed, and diminished further, something leaving him with the force of his breath.
‘I know.’ His voice was weaker now, closer to a whimper than an answer. ‘I know what you want. I know it every time you stare at me.’
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