Netherkind by Greg Chapman

Author:Greg Chapman [Chapman, Greg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Omnium Gatherum
Published: 2019-05-05T16:00:00+00:00

19

The black pool reflected Thomas’ fears, the liquid was dead calm, devoid of any rippling, like a vast plate of ebony. It revealed Thomas’ physical nature, yet it promised to show him his soul if he dared to look.

All he had to do was dive beneath the surface. He felt Shal-Ekh at his side, the prophet fidgeting with a macabre excitement. Thomas no longer felt unsettled by the Stygma Flesher, rather he saw him as a teacher, the first Flesher ever to provide him with the truth he’d been seeking for so long.

“Once you submerge you will sleep and you will dream,” Shal-Ekh told him. “The dreamscape is different for each sleeper, it is the embodiment of what you desire. It will take you some moments to adjust to its glory.”

Thomas took in Shal-Ekh’s words, but he knew the experience—this intended experience—could not be taught with words.

“What about Okin—how will I know what he looks like?” Thomas said.

Shal-Ekh smiled and rested a hand on his charge’s shoulder. “He will find you. Remember he has been waiting for you.”

The black pool was mesmerising, before it was simply a comfort, but now it was a door that beckoned to be opened.

“Do I need to…make the markings on my skin?” Thomas said, hesitant.

Shal-Ekh took his arm. “The first time is the first time. Okin may speak to you, he may even show you a wonder. When he finally lets you awaken, you must tell us what he told you, so that it can be written down. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“Then it is time.”

Monks came forward and removed Thomas’ shawl. They checked his skin for wounds and imperfections, but his flesh had been healed for some time, despite the fact he hadn’t fed for hours. Thomas wondered if the first dip in the pool had anything to do with it.

Once the monks had withdrawn, Shal-Ekh removed his own robe. He was like a statue of alabaster, shining white, ribcage pronounced, the torso incision like a groove worn by the winds of time.

“Are you coming with me?” Thomas said.

“I will help you submerge Thomas. The first time can be difficult for some. I will aid you in the transition.”

Thomas put his toes on the edge of the pit.

“Do you have to be tired?”

“No, the pool induces sleep—that is its sole purpose. Come.”

Shal-Ekh took Thomas’ hand as they scaled the slope down into the pit, the ash-like crypt earth caking around their ankles. Despite the disturbance their movements were creating, the pool remained still, like a sliver of skin on custard. Once they reached the pool’s edge Shal-Ekh stopped.

“I will enter first,” he said. “Then I will call you.”

Shal-Ekh slid one leg into the pool, his flesh stark against the liquid. The inky fluid enveloped his leg, clung to it the way oil would to an unfortunate seabird. He slid his other leg and pushed off the side, his hips and torso quickly vanishing in the murk. He floated out, the water up to his chin.

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