Read Heights of the Depths for Free Online Page B

good deal of time to try and figure out just how the Overseer was going to react to his admittedly extraordinary theory.
    You have got to be shitting me wasn’t it, or even remotely close to it.
    For starters, although Nicrominus understood the basic words being uttered, he suspected there was some sort of vernacular twist that he wasn’t entirely grasping. Furthermore, it simply didn’t sound like something that the single greatest power in the Damned World might say. It was so startling, so bizarre, that for a moment Nicrominus suspected that perhaps he had been fooled somehow. Perhaps this was not, in fact, the Overseer at all. An imposter, maybe? Someone who had been sent to test his mettle? Except who would have sent this individual? The genuine Overseer? Or unseen warders from the Elserealms?
    All manner of possibilities rattled around inside his head as he simply stood there and stared at the armored figure.
    The Overseer vaulted from the proscenium. When he landed, the sound echoed through the vast theater, the thunderclap-like impact of his previous bellowing reaction only having just died down. As he moved, Nicrominus could hear a series of faint whirring noises coming from the armor. He had no idea what they were. The armor was unlike anything he had seen before. It had an air about it, something that made him think of the Elserealms, clinging to it lingeringly as did the scent of, say, a female’s scent to one’s clothes on the morning following a night of passion. But there was also something about it that smacked of Damned World technology. The Banished had very little use for such things, but still, Nicrominus could spot it when he saw it.
    He strode right towards Nicrominus and didn’t slow as he approached him. Nicrominus’s bones may have been old, his muscles might have been sore, but he was still capable of getting out of the way of an oncoming behemoth when the need arose. He did so at that point, stepping aside and almost falling into a row of seats to his right. He stood there and watched as the Overseer strode past him.
    Left on his own, Nicrominus was uncertain of what he was supposed to do. The Overseer had not issued any instructions, or even really acknowledged his existence in any way save to listen to what he had to say. What was he supposed to do now? Stand there and wait for further instructions? What if none were forthcoming?
    Nor was it his nature to simply stand around and wait for other people to tell him what to do, even when one of the other people in question was the Overseer himself.
    But he couldn’t very yell out, “Wait!” to the Overseer. The Overseer did as he willed, when he willed it, and answered to no one. Or if he did, he certainly didn’t answer to an aged Firedraque.
    Nicrominus folded his arms, tasted the air with his forked tongue, and then shrugged and started off after the Overseer. His tail moved aimlessly in mild agitation, an outward reflection of his inner worries. The Overseer was making no obvious effort to leave him behind, but neither was he taking his time. He was simply walking, and so Nicrominus followed him.
    There was a large set of double doors at the back of the theater. The Overseer swung wide his arms and knocked them to either side. He passed through them and they almost slammed shut back into Nicrominus’s face before he caught them and stepped through. There was a large lobby with broken mirrors and faded gilt lining it. The Overseer kept going, heading towards the main doors that led out into the street. Nicrominus continued right after him, wondering if at some point the Overseer would turn, notice him, and obliterate him with but a gesture.
    Nicrominus considered that possibility further and came to the realization that the prospect did not bother him particularly. He had led a long life, seen many things, had mates, eaten them, spawned children, eaten them, allowed one of them to live almost on a whim and found the experience to be, on