Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) Kathryn Kingsley (best e books to read .txt) 📖

The three of them headed out of the building together. Ember looked up at the starry sky overhead and wondered what it would be like to never see the sun again. It broke her heart, even if the strangely colored moons were beautiful. “It’s fine…everything here is a bit much.”

“That’s quite fair.” Lyon placed his hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She shot him a look. “No.”

“That is also fair. Once we return to the cathedral, I will see that you have a room made up. My home is not as opulent as the quarters here, as you can imagine, but they are comfortable. I believe you have earned a long rest and a hot bath.”

A bath. In hot water. I don’t think I’ve had that since…since I was a child. She kept that to herself. It was embarrassing, and probably obvious by looking at her. “Thank you. That sounds wonderful.”

Kindness.

It was such a strange thing for her to experience. Even as a healer, as a graedari, she wasn’t ever greeted with open arms. She wasn’t to be trusted. Healers were still human and still known to fall to corruption. Fear was fear, and resources were limited.

Even when she was saving lives, she was never welcome to stay. Sometimes she was given food or a night of shelter in return for her work. But rarely ever anything more than that. And it was always out of…obligation.

Never kindness.

She ran her thumb over the brass of the pocket watch Maverick had given her. She thought of the cookie she had stolen and shoved into her bag that had so easily been given to her by Lyon. And the sandwich.

And now both Ini and Lyon had invited her into their homes. For knowledge, perhaps—as a clue to the travesty that had happened to their world—but they could have shoved her in a cage instead. Kept her as a prisoner.

Not as a guest.

Honestly, Ember didn’t know what in the name of Pit she was supposed to do with that. She didn’t know how to react. It worried her. It’s a trap. A trick. They’re trying to get me to drop my guard.

The man crushed a skull with one hand and can control my mind.

Why the fuck would he need a trap?

She sighed heavily as she walked beside the King of Blood, with the Elder of Words on her other side. Strange titles in an even stranger world.

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry. Your world is…overwhelming.”

Maverick smirked at her and tucked his hands in his coat. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems you do appreciate a bit of honesty,” he said to them without turning his head. “Welcome to Under. I believe the mayhem has only just begun.”

8

The walk back to the cathedral was decidedly less horrifying than the walk from it. Ember kept her hand on the handle of her knife, regardless. She listened to Maverick and Lyon talk as she continued to gape at the world around her, trying to take in every inch of detail.

“There is a word for what those creatures are,” Maverick mentioned to Ember. “What you call the drengil. On Earth, the world we all come from, they are referred to as ‘zombies.’ Your word is far more elegant. But perhaps that’s entirely because I do not know what it translates to.”

“I’m not sure there is a translation.” She shook her head. “They simply are what they are. Drengil.”

“When you spoke your prayer for the fallen woman, I could not understand the words you spoke,” Lyon said thoughtfully as he looked off into the city. “We are given the gift of understanding the speech of all those who come to Under, by benefit of their journey into the Pool of the Ancients. Since none of your world have joined us, perhaps…that is why.”

“Then how come I can understand you at all?” Ember asked. “I suppose it didn’t occur to me in all the madness. I doubt we speak the same common language.”

“Perhaps the common tongue you speak came with your so-called Dread God,” Maverick pondered. “Why would it not know the other language you speak?”

“Renskur is the language of the old gods. It’s a dead tongue, known and used only by hunters like me. It’s ceremonial.” She shrugged. “The Dread God would not know it.”

“Hum.” Maverick stroked his chin. “I would like very much to transcribe it.”

“Why? If my world is gone, and so are my people, what’s the point?” She raised her eyebrow at the man in gray. “It’s useless.”

“Knowledge is never useless. Especially in regard to that which is on the brink of being lost. You may be the only record of Renskur left.” That felt like a punch to the gut. It must have shown on her face. Maverick cringed. “I did not mean it like that.”

“It’s fine.” She turned her attention back to the road ahead of them and grasped the leather strap of her spear in both her hands, enjoying the feel of the leather. “It’s true. My world is dead. My culture is dead.”

“There is a good chance that others of you have survived.” Lyon put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“For now. I was lucky to land where I did.” The realization was just beginning to settle over her. It felt like a cold wind, clawing its way through cracks in the windows. “There are monsters in your world…hungry ones. Not to mention those that come from mine.”

“Perhaps your theory is wrong,” Maverick said, his tone noticeably softer as he clearly tried to right the damage he’d done. “Maybe the collision only brought some of you to this world, and Gioll continues without you and your Dread God. It is possible that Gioll is saved.”

Ember smirked sadly. “I can only hope you’re—”

They all came to a stop in the main open square at the foot of the Cathedral of the