'I call him Tiberius.’

          Samuel Melkin carefully stroked the small animal that nestled in his lap.

         ‘What is it?’ asked Trypp, amazed that Melkin would be prepared to touch such a dangerous-looking creature. 

          ‘It’s one of the few creatures the Ghul have bothered to name down here.  It’s called a needleback, for obvious reasons.’  He needlessly pointed at the long, white spikes running down the creature’s back.  ‘You wouldn’t want to touch these.  Apparently one prick from the spikes will throw a person into a paralysis.  The Ghul use them as weapons.’

          ‘Aren't you scared patting it?’ Trypp said nervously.

          Melkin gave him an odd look, as if the question was irrelevant to their conversation.  ‘Scared?  Now there’s a thought.  I can’t really say I’m scared of anything anymore.  Besides, this little beast is nothing to be afraid of.  It’s just a baby.  When it grows to your size, maybe then I’ll be scared.’

         The needleback lifted its head, yawned then lay back down.  Despite its appearance, it was clear to Trypp that Melkin cared for the creature. 

         ‘Where did it come from?  Why haven’t I seen it till now?’

         ‘Its burrow lies somewhere underneath us.  When I was first thrown down here, it would come out and sniff around me and retreat back into its hole.  The day you arrived, it disappeared, probably frightened by your appearance.’

          Trypp raised an eyebrow.  ‘It is frightened of me?’

          ‘They’re quite timid creatures, but worth getting to know,’ Melkin said with a mischievous grin.  ‘I think they’ll come a time when we will be happy we made Tiberius’ acquaintance.’

 

 

Somehow Gerriod and Lara had survived.  Whilst all around them had shattered apart, Lara’s protective bubble had remained intact.  Her strained face reflected all the effort it took to maintain the spell in the midst of so much chaos.  By contrast, Gerriod’s face was statuesque in its serene stillness.  For the first time in months he had hope and though it was only a sliver, it was enough to give him a reason to keep going.  A reason to endure.  He now had the one thing all mariners needed – a direction – and at the point of Gerriod’s compass was his father.

         The suffuse red light of the Endless bled through the broken timbers beneath them.  They had fallen far.  The breach lay around them like a clenched fist, holding the crumpled mass of brass and wood in its fingers, unwilling to let it go.

         ‘Where to from here?’ Lara asked weakly as the mystical bubble surrounding them disappeared, leaving them unprotected in the midst of the unstable wreckage.  The sound of cracking timber informed them that this was no place they could stay.

         ‘We go down.  Into the Endless,’ Gerriod said with steely determination.

         ‘I was hoping you would say that.’

 

 

Whilst it was not difficult to extract themselves from the ship, their departure from the wreckage was not without incident.

         At one point, Gerriod had thought he had snagged his leg on something.  Looking down to see what it was, he was presented with the sight of a thin pale hand clutching him around the ankle.  The Ghul soldier the hand was attached to lay buried under a thick, splintered beam.  Whilst the soldier was in a wretched state, his hand held Gerriod in a fierce embrace.  Gerriod looked around frantically for something to free his leg from the ghoulish finger wrapped around it.  To his left a thin sheet of brass capping had torn free of the joist it had covered.  It was only a small strip, but it would be enough.

         Gerriod rammed the brass sheet down upon the hand.  It sheared straight through the Ghul’s wrist, severing the hand cleanly.

          Gerriod took a step to leave, but a short squeal from Lara made him pause.  He spun around to see her eyes wide open, staring at the hand he had just cut off.  It lay upside down, its open palm facing them.  The fingers twitched and then the hand started clutching at the air.  Then, in an unexpected spasm, it flipped itself over so that it rested on its fingers.  Suddenly the hand exploded into movement, scurrying across the timbers like a fleshy, white insect.  It moved towards Gerriod and when it was within a foot of him, it jumped forward onto his robe.  The mariner was too stunned to do anything, and the hand quickly crawled up his tattered clothes towards his exposed neck.

    Fortunately before it got too close, Lara cast a spell that enveloped the hand in a ball of flame that neither burnt Gerriod nor the surrounding timbers.  As the incinerated hand curled up into a pile of ashes, Gerriod smiled appreciatively to his companion.

         ‘Thank-you,’ he said.  ‘I’m glad you’re on my side.’

         ‘My pleasure,’ she replied.  And she meant it.  After so many months of repressed anger and absolute fear, it felt good to be on the offensive.  They were taking the fight to Caliban.  They were taking control.  It was a strange feeling, unlike anything she had ever experienced before.  For the first time in her life Lara Brand felt… confident.

 

 

Gerriod and Lara were no strangers to the peculiar creatures the Ghul used as boats, so the sight of such a vessel moored to a nearby pier made them both smile.

          As Lara slithered into the boat, Gerriod untied the vine the Ghul had lashed around the thick piece of bone that served as a bollard on the pier.  Within moments the boat moved off into the crimson darkness and all Lara and Gerriod could hear was the sound of its long limbs stroking the water.  

          They never heard the sound of marching that slowly filled the cavern behind them.

 

 

Trypp could not remember the last time he had eaten.  Neither could Melkin.  It seemed the Ghul were no longer interested in keeping the pair alive.  Beneath the carapace of his shell, his body was withering away.  His skin had changed colour dramatically and hung loosely from his bones.  His eyes were empty wells   

         ‘There’s something going on,’ said Melkin.  ‘They’re distracted.’

         ‘I can still hear noises up there,’ Trypp said in a whisper.  ‘I think they’ve just left a couple of Ghul to mind us.’

         Melkin’s gaunt head lolled to one side.  ‘I think it’s now time you left me.’

         Trypp’s face became a portrait of sadness.  ‘I’m not sure I can.’

         ‘You have to.  Otherwise, hundreds of shatterbugs will have died in vain.’ 

          Trypp was unsure whether this statement reflected sympathy or insanity.  

          Melkin reached into his private recess and extracted the iron hat containing the shatterbug goo.  ‘I’m not sure it will be adequate.’

         Trypp looked into the makeshift bowl.  ‘It shall suffice.’      

          He dipped his hands into the shatterbug slime and applied it to his skin.  There was more than enough to cover his hands and feet.  He tested its properties on the wall beside him.  His hand stuck firmly.  A slight tug and it tore free of the smooth wall accompanied by a satisfying, sucking noise.  ‘It will hold me,’ he said happily.

          ‘Of course it will,’ Melkin chided him.  ‘Now leave.  Go save the world or whatever it is you were doing when you came down here.’

          ‘I’ll come back for you.  I promise.’

          ‘I know you will, Trypp Elan,’ Melkin said with a smile.  His face had changed.  The madness in his eyes had faded.  His smile was not the lunatic grin that had first welcomed Trypp to the pit.  It was one of tenderness.

          Trypp scuttled up the wall with ease.  With a sense of irony, he remembered the day upon the Skyfall when he had almost fallen from the cliffs to avoid crushing a shatterbug that had landed on the thin ledge he was intending to use as a handhold.  A lot had changed in that time.  He had changed and the shatterbugs – once a benign source of beauty – were believed to be the means by which Caliban had spied on the Myrrans and kept in motion his cruel plans.

          ‘Scree!  Look!  The blue one’s trying to escape!’

          Trypp had been spotted by one of the Ghul left behind to guard the pit, but he didn’t stop climbing.  He didn’t have to.  He had Melkin watching his back.

          Two Ghul appeared at the edge of the pit high above with crossbows fixed on Trypp.  As soon as they appeared, Melkin slung a volley of small, needleback spikes at the pair.  Although most of the spikes missed their intended targets, two hit and that was all that was needed to administer the paralysing poison each spike contained.  The Ghul’s stiff bodies toppled over the lip of the pit and moments later slammed into the hard rock floor at the base of the hole.

          ‘Oh look Tiberius,’ Melkin said, turning to the needleback that lay at his feet.  ‘We have visitors!’

 

 

Trypp made his way down the passageway.  He walked carefully, listening out for any sign of Ghul, but there was nothing to be heard.  It seemed the Endless was empty.

          When he was dragged to the pit after suffering a comprehensive beating at the hands of the Ghul, he noted all the activity occurring in almost every chamber he passed.  He had seen Ghul mounted on skitteriks dragging weapons and supplies down to the docks to be loaded into the strange boat-shaped creatures he had seen on the Nessan Sea.  He had even caught a glimpse of a cavern where a number of huge behemoths slept behind massive bars of bone.

         But now, there was nothing to be seen, other than empty chambers and deserted pathways.  Although he was pleased to be able to make his way through the Endless unopposed, the emptiness was unsettling.  Somewhere Caliban’s forces had massed and it filled him with dread to think of the world above sullied by the presence of such vile creatures.

          He passed the vast wharf he had noticed months ago when the Ghul had dragged him at the end of a rope down the dim avenues of Caliban’s realm.  The wharf too was devoid of life.  Not a boat remained, nor was a single Ghul left behind to guard the area.

          Trypp sat down on a rock and picked up a shard of bone to scrape away the shatterbug goo that still lay on his hands and feet.  The goo was slowing him down and the sucking sound each of his feet made as he walked across the rock threatened to alert anyone who remained in the Endless that he was approaching.

          As he sat there, he became aware of a sickening but familiar smell.  It was the same rotten odour that he had experienced when he and Gerriod emerged from the dark lake at the bottom of the Worldpool.

          A warm orange light floated down the passage ahead and Trypp dived behind a collection of boulders that lay on the side of the subterranean road.  The light drifted closer and it was exactly what he feared – a cloud of shatterbugs.  It seemed odd to fear such a small, peaceful creature after all the dangers he had faced, but the last thing he needed was for Caliban to know that he had escaped from the pit.

 

 

Trypp abandoned the main passageway and followed a narrower route that led in the general direction he wanted to take.  He was led by his sense of smell.  The stench that had greeted him upon his arrival in the Endless hung thickly in the air.  Similarly thick was the sound of the surging torrent of the Worldpool.  He was not far from the underground lake.  He had no idea how he was going to find Caliban, but the lake seemed like a good place to start.

         On his way down this passage, he passed an opening in the wall that led down to a small grotto.  He could hear the sound of water flowing through this chamber and it was soothing when compared to the tumultuous roar coming from the cavern up ahead.  Then he heard something else.  It was a groan but it was not an animal nor was it the Ghul. 

 

 

In the centre of the grotto, two large bones had been set in the rock, crossing over one another so that they formed the shape of a X.  Upon this crude structure, an old man had been tied with hempen rope.  His body was covered in lacerations.  The cuts were so fresh, they continued to bleed.  Although Trypp had never met the man, he knew exactly who it was.  He had stumbled upon Gerriod’s father.

         Fortunately, there were no signs of any shatterbugs that would reveal his presence to Caliban.  Walking slowly in case he alert any Ghul that were nearby, Trypp gazed curiously at the old man’s prison.  Gerriod had described to him in gruesome detail the creature Caliban had used to keep Gamelyn in perpetual torment, but there was no sign the serpentine beast – only the marks of where it had bitten into Gamelyn’s frail body.

         ‘Captain Blake?’ he said tentatively as he approached.

         The old man did not move. 

         ‘Captain?’

          ‘Gerriod?’

          Gamelyn lifted his head slowly to face Trypp.  His haggard features could not disguise the optimism in his eyes as he raised his face nor could they disguise his disappointment he experienced when he realised his visitor was not his son.

          ‘I’m sorry,’ Trypp said.  ‘You son is… not with me.  I know him, but I do not know where he is.’

Gamelyn nodded sadly as he adjusted to the situation.  ‘I see.  Do you know if he is safe?’

          ‘I’m sorry sir.  I cannot answer your question.  Many months ago, he was here with me – here to bring you home – but now… I just don’t know.’

          Gamelyn said nothing as he took in this news.  Then, after a long pause, his face brightened and a knowing grin spread across his broken lips.  ‘He’s a tough boy.  He will be here soon enough.  But you, Master Sapphyrran, why are you here?  This is far too dark a place for someone like you,’ Gamelyn said hoarsely.

          ‘My name is Trypp Elan, sir, and I do not intend to stay long.  Here, let me cut you down from there.’

          Trypp had been carrying the shard of bone he had used to scrape off the shatterbug goo and it made light work of the old ropes the Ghul had used when they had fixed Gamelyn to his crucifix.

          Gamelyn fell into his arms.  Trypp was amazed at how light he was.  He was no heavier than a child.  ‘Here sir, let me carry you out of this dreadful place.’

          Gamelyn shook a hand frantically, as if Trypp’s idea was a terrible one.  ‘No!  No!  No!  Sit me here upon the ground and lean my back against my cross and let me die.’

          Trypp shook his head demonstrably.  ‘No.  You’re not dying.  I won’t let you sit here and fade away.’

          ‘That is very admirable of you, but the decision is not yours to make,’ Gamelyn said with a humourless laugh.  

          ‘We can bandage your wounds.  You can be healed.’

          Gamelyn smiled at what he took to be endearing naiveté.  ‘If only it were that simple, Trypp.’  He took a deep breath before continuing.  ‘For thirty long years I have been lashed to that cross by –’

          ‘Gerriod told me about the serpent that kept you here,’ Trypp interrupted.  It was not in his nature to cut someone off in the middle of speech, but he wanted the old man to save his energy for more important matters – such as escaping the Endless.  ‘But it has released you now.  The beast is gone and you still live.’

          Gamelyn held Trypp in a firm gaze.  ‘And you intend to walk out of here, with me in your arms.’

          ‘Yes.’

          ‘But that’s not the only reason you came to the Endless, is it Trypp Elan?’

          ‘No.’

          ‘Then you must go to do what must be done.’  Gamelyn smiled anticipating Trypp’s next question before the Sapphyrran had a chance to open his mouth.  ‘I know you are here to kill Caliban.  If you have been careful, and I am sure you have been, he will not know of your escape… yet.  You must move quickly.  You cannot be hampered by an old man who has not walked for many years.  Seek out Caliban and do what you set out to do.’

          Trypp shook his head and his snowy white hair swished from side to side.  ‘I can’t leave you.  I have already left someone behind, someone who helped me escape from the pit I was thrown in.  I can’t walk away.’

          Gamelyn reached up and patted Trypp on the side of the neck in a paternal fashion.  ‘You are a good person Trypp.  I can see that.  You would walk from one end of the world to the other just to save a single soul.  But there are other lives at stake here.  Countless lives.’

          Trypp’s broad brow furrowed.  ‘We once left someone behind.  A Spriggan by the name of Mulupo.  He fell into Caliban’s hands and was handed over to Succellos because we didn’t have the courage to stay when we should have.’

          ‘This isn’t a matter of courage Trypp.  It’s a matter of wisdom, as I’m sure it was when you abandoned the Spriggan.  If you need a reason to leave me behind, use him.  If you cared for him at all, or for Gerriod, or for the gentle folk of Skyfall Town, put an end to the chaos that Caliban has created.’

          Trypp studied Gamelyn’s face.  It was an interesting face, rugged but kind.  Though they were misty, his eyes sparkled with the same determination that Gerriod’s did.

          ‘Very well, Captain Blake.  I will do as you ask.  I will leave you for now.  Hide yourself away but do not go far.  When my business is done, I will return for you and together we will find your son.’