THE DEVOURED EARTH
The Fourth
Book of the Cataclysm
by Sean
Williams
"What does it mean to be human? It's more than the right number of arms,
legs, fingers and toes, the ability to talk, and walking upright. It's more than the Change and the art we
make. It's more than all of this, and
less. We follow a path through the
realms that makes us uniquely different to any other creature. Not all the realms, for there are more than
we can imagine, of every possible flavour and logic. We inhabit just three, and they define our
character as surely as a fish is defined by the sea or a snake by the earth.
"That's not to say that we can't aspire
to transcend the limitations of our environment. We are dreamers, we humans, and what lies
outside has always held a fascination.
But we must remember that the achievement of that dream carries a high
price. Sometimes the boundary is too
easy to cross. We should not lightly set
aside our humanity, because it's not always possible to get it back."
A Scribe's Book of
Questions
"Prologue"
Out of
the darkness, something came--something as alien to the human mind as it was to
the world humans inhabited. It passed
through realms as easily as a beast might cross a stream, yet it was not, by
nature, a wanderer. It possessed desires
no earthly being had ever imagined; it craved satiation in ways beyond
description.
It hungered.
But it
told itself to be patient. Its time was
nearing. Soon, the waiting and watching
would be over, and the human world would know its face.
Then its
need, finally, would be fulfilled.
"The Breach"
"What is the shape of the world? The answer to that question depends entirely
on where you standing."
A Scribe's Book of
Questions
Everything
hurt. Skender could barely move without
confronting that grim reality. From the
pounding of his temples to the chill biting at his toes, not one part of his
body had been spared. His appetite was
nonexistent, he was unable to sleep, and when he stood up too fast, his head
spun like a top. The tea brewed by Griel
and his two Panic balloonists to ward off the worst of the symptoms filled his
bladder faster even than ordinary tea, so he spent much of every day with his
legs tightly crossed.
He
refused to say anything, though, and not just because he knew everyone aboard
the blimp was feeling the same effects of their staggered ascent as him. The memories of his rough treatment at
He felt
her watching him even as he concentrated on Mage Kelloman's sun-catching
charm. Opening one eye a crack, he saw
her standing at the fore of the boat-like gondola, near Griel. Her black hair caught the sunlight and glowed
with mahogany highlights. The skin of
her cheeks was as golden-brown as the wooden instrument panel before her. Dressed in a heavy wool overcoat and gloves,
she had swivelled slightly to look back at him.
A faint smile floated on her full lips.
His whole body tingled in response.
The blimp
was the biggest balloon he had ever seen, and the enclosed gondola it supported
was roomy enough for thirty people, but he had never craved privacy so much as
he had during every moment of their journey so far. Barely had she told him her heart-name than
they had been whisked out of the Panic city and taken to Milang, where Marmion
had been coordinating the biggest expedition, according to local records, ever
mounted to the very top of the mountains.
Since then, the only moments they'd found to be alone came very late at
night, when everyone else was asleep, or during brief mountaineering
expeditions while the blimp was moored to a jagged cliff face. And even then, with altitude sickness clawing
at their guts and skulls, there was only so much they felt like doing.
Hana, he whispered to himself. Hana, I
think I--
"Eyes
on the job, my boy," said a gruff, high-pitched voice from beside
him. "Eyes on the job, or you and
your friend will never get a second's peace again."
Skender
clenched his eyes shut and ignored the red-hot flush rising up to fill his
cheeks. He hadn't meant his thoughts to
wander so much, let alone leak to the point where Mage Kelloman could pick up
the details.
"I'm
sorry," he said, clutching at the shreds of his concentration, and his
dignity. "I didn't mean--"
"Don't
get your tights in a tangle." The
Mage Kelloman's slender hand touched his shoulder. "We all feel it. We're tired and impatient, easily
distracted. But the end is in
sight. By this night's fall, we could
finally be on level ground. And then, think
of it: so much stone and bedrock to explore!
None of this scavenging for the sun's meagre rays. We'll have real power then, boy. We'll be in our element."
"What's
that, Mage Kelloman?" came Sky Warden Eisak Marmion's voice from the fore
of the gondola. "Is the strain
proving too much? We could pause and
allow you a breather, if you'd like."
"I
certainly would not," the mage said, his tone artificially crisp. "I was merely remarking to my young
friend here that we could provide a little more lift. If you can handle it, of course."
Marmion titled
his head. "More lift, not
less? Are you sure?"
"As
sure as eggs. I for one am keen to
stretch my legs."
"You
speak for us all, I suspect." A
rustle of agreement swept through the gondola, from Griel and the Panic tending
the balloon's stays and control surfaces to Lidia Delfine. Even the Twins, so often caught in their own
private world, nodded.
"Very
well, then. One final push and it will
be done. Thank you, Mage Kelloman. When you're ready, we'll put your extra
effort to good use."
Kelloman
bowed with exaggerated dignity, giving the body of his host--a young woman
whose mind had long since fled--gravitas far beyond its years.
"What
do you think you're doing?" Skender hissed to him as the wardens returned
to the charms made by Panic engineers and reinforced by foresters in
Milang. "We're stretched too thin
as it is!"
"Quiet,
boy." The mage made a minute
adjustment to the charm scorched onto the wooden floor of the gondola at his
feet. "We have work to do."
"But--"
"Work.
This isn't a holiday, you know."
Skender
swallowed his irritation and sought the still centre required to shore up the
mage's effort. Their job was simple: to
draw energy from the sun and channel it into the balloon's many charms, where
Griel,
Forty
pinpricks made him jump as the mage's pet--a tiny brown-furred bilby with
pointed ears and big eyes--leapt into his lap and climbed onto his
shoulder. He patted it, encouraging it
to settle.
"Concentrate,
boy," the mage growled through his borrowed lips, and Skender willed himself
to stop thinking entirely. Through the
Change and his link with Kelloman, he dissolved into the charms enveloping the
skin of the blimp. As well as being
larger than any other balloon in the forest, it was easily one of the most
complex machines he had ever seen. From
the glowing rotors thrumming outside the gondola, two each to port and
starboard, to the web of charms maintaining everything from elevation to
insulation, the blimp required constant attention to make sure it functioned as
required.
A strong
gust of wind shook the blimp, making his stomach lurch. His eyes opened automatically, just for a
second.
Instead,
he simply crossed his fingers and hoped for the best.
#
They had
left Milang six days earlier, ascending into the clouds three dawns after the
fire that had nearly burned the forest city to the ground. The mission was a cooperative venture;
everyone caught up in the awakening of forces from the previous Cataclysm had
joined together to see what lay to the northeast, where the Twins assured them
the greatest threat lay. No one knew
quite what to expect. Skender didn't
take any encouragement from floods, murderous wraiths, earthquakes and man'kin
invasions--but with no seers remaining to peer into the future all they had to
go on were a smattering of hints, from prophecies old and new, plus their own
wits.
A series
of delicate soundings taken from Milang and at several points along their
journey unveiled the shape of the mountain range beyond the region known to the
Panic and the foresters. It was, in
fact, several mountain ranges combined--at least seven converging on a central
point, like a giant starfish or spider with limbs reaching across the plains. At the intersection of those limbs, the earth
bulged up in a mighty rupture. This, the
highest point of the mountain ranges, was the mission's primary
destination. Kelloman's soundings weren't
clear enough to tell what exactly lay there, but he spoke in guarded terms of a
circular patch of elevated land several kilometres across. The peaks surrounding that land were
unstable, shaking and rumbling under the influence of forces Skender could
barely imagine.
When the
balloon reached the uppermost limits of the forester's knowledge, then flew
beyond even the Panic's charts, they relied on Kelloman's soundings to find a
way through steep valleys and broad fissures, rising further and further with
every hour. On the second day, they
punched through the uppermost layers of the permanent cloud cover hugging the
lower expanses and found themselves flying for the first time in clear
air. From then on, navigation became
somewhat easier, but the daunting mass of mountain still looming above them
reminded them never to become complacent.
Vast shelfs of snow and ice awaited them, more dangerous in their own
way than cloud. The balloon couldn't fly
continuously, and safe docking points became harder and harder to find. The sound of whining chimerical engines
echoed off sheer rock faces, occasionally triggering avalanches of stupendous
proportions.
Yet,
despite the hostile conditions, there were signs of life. Streamers of smoke rose from small
communities huddling in sheltered niches.
Paths crisscrossed several more accessible regions, linking caves almost
invisible until the balloon came directly alongside them. Once, when surmounting a broad spur and
coming into view of the valley beyond, the mission had been confronted by a
vast, flat roof large enough to cover two Milangs. Canted at a steep angle to prevent snow from
building up, it sheltered nearly a third of the valley below. Exactly what it protected was unknown to
either Panic or forester, and was likely to remain that way, for nothing and no
one emerged to stare at the intruder in the skies. Few did anywhere, made cautious by the events
of recent weeks.
Everywhere
they went they saw evidence of the flood.
Deep channels that diverged and joined traced a complex path down the
side of the mountains. It soon became
clear that that the torrent that had filled the Divide had taken many routes
from its source. Several of these
channels had played havoc with the region's struggling communities, sweeping away
animals, crops and homes. Some of the
channels were still carrying water that surged and roiled foamily as it
fell. One waterfall dropped so far that from
its middle Skender could see neither top nor bottom. For one enchanting but unnerving hour he could
pretend that flow was literally endless.
By the
fourth day, he had begun to wonder if their journey, too, might have no
end. Upwards and upwards they strove,
snatching every meter of altitude from a reluctant sky. With painful slowness the cloud level dropped
away and the vista of jagged, twisted stone below them became even more
terrifying, yet the summit, visible only as a dark line against the sky far
above, seemed to come no closer. The
strain on the balloon's mingled crew increased, with altitude sickness taking a
severe toll on minds and bodies that would have been fatigued anyway.
Nowhere
was that more obvious than in the rivalry between Kelloman and Marmion. The air had always been tense between the two
men, both ambitious and masters of their own very different disciplines. That tension presently manifested in the form
of fiercely pitched battles of pointed politeness. Skender, caught up in the ongoing campaign since
he was nearly a mage himself and therefore the only ally Kelloman had to lean
on, found his impatience rising with both men.
What was the point of expending so much energy on pointless
one-upmanship? It only made the rest of
the crew more uncomfortable than they would otherwise have been. The latest manifestation of that repressed
conflict was no different.
A long,
sustained shudder rippled through the gondola, sending the Panic crew scurrying
about, checking instruments and adjusting control surfaces. One opened a hatch in the ceiling and slipped
quickly outside. A wave of bitter cold
swept down the interior to where Skender knelt at the back, doing his best to
concentrate. He shuddered in sympathy
despite the thick layers of thermal underwear under his black robe. The caulking around the gondola's joins and
seams was far from perfect, allowing hair-thin, knife-sharp breezes to slash
past his ears. The outside was colder
still.
He stole
another peek forward. Marmion had joined
"That
looks promising," Skender heard
"Fifty
metres to the summit," the warden announced to the crew in general. "There's a pass near the top. We're aiming for that. Once through and out of this wind, the going
should be steadier."
So close! Skender thought, but it still seemed another
world away. He remembered something the
twins had said once about the Second Realm being next to the First in the sense
that one second was next to another.
They occupied the same space, and yet were quite separate, and crossing
from one to the other could be incredibly difficult. That was how he felt about the top of the
mountains. It was there, and had always
been, but getting to it had proven far from easy.
"Would
you like to rest before the final push?" asked Kelloman without either
opening his eyes or moving from his meditative posture. "If the wind is problematic--"
"That
won't be necessary," said Marmion with a faint smile. "In fact, I thought we might increase
the pace. There's no point holding back
now. The sooner we get to the top, the
sooner we can rest."
"Why
not?" Behind Kelloman's nonchalant
reply, Skender sensed exhaustion and determination in equal measure. "I'll give you all the potential you
need."
"Right,
then. Let's get on with it."
Someone
groaned. Skender couldn't tell who, but
he echoed the sentiment. Not for the
first time, Skender wished Sal were there to help them. With his wild talent behind the push upwards,
the journey would be over in moments.
But Sal had his own quest to pursue.
Mage
Kelloman resumed his concentration on the sun-catching charms. The gondola's engines throbbed at a deeper
pitch, casting a golden light on the cliff face as the blimp resumed its upward
journey. Fifty metres didn't sound like
far; Skender could have walked it with no effort at all. But walking was very different from flying,
especially so close to the theoretical limits of powered balloon travel. Every metre was a challenge
"That's
the way," Marmion said. "That's
the way." He ran a hand across his
bald scalp. The last of his hair had
fallen out on the long journey, leaving his head as smooth and round as an egg.
"One last push and it'll be over."
"You're
in entirely the wrong field, you know," said
Marmion
didn't rise to the bait. The blimp
seemed to be hanging dead in the air, its upward drift was so subtle.
"Mage
Kelloman, a skerrick more oomph if you wouldn't mind. The charms are at their breaking point."
"A
skerrick? Why, certainly." The mage's voice was frostily formal, and he
did find the extra potential from somewhere.
"That's
the way," Marmion breathed again.
The words
became a mantra Skender clung to as the metres slid slowly by. He lacked the perspective of those at the
front of the gondola, but he could make out the cliff face through the nearest
window. It was moving, slowly but surely.
The blimp
swayed above them, rattling the gondola's occupants like nails in a tin.
"Hold
fast," Marmion encouraged them all, moving down the gondola's central
aisle, brushing shoulders with his one hand.
The other arm hung close to his gut, wrapped in the folds of his
blue-clad sleeve. "We're almost
there. Almost..."
Skender
closed his eyes tightly and put everything he had into the final stretch. He saw nothing but the complex curves and
axes of the sun-catching charm; he felt nothing but the sun's potential as it
swept through him and into the interstices of the blimp. Kelloman's mind blazed feverishly beside his,
a shining example to follow. Yet there
was something dangerous about that fire too, as though it could in a second
turn on itself, and consume the mind that stoked it. If Kelloman's concentration faltered for a
second, if the sun's output changed even minutely...
Wind
struck the blimp from an unexpected direction, prompting a new series of
rattles and creaks, and a rising mutter of voices. His eyes flickered open. He blinked to focus them. The gondola hung broadside-on to the cliff
face. Through the window nearest him on
the starboard side he saw the bottom of a massive cleft in the dark stone. As though a giant sword had hacked a notch in
the uppermost ramparts of the mountains, the sides of the cleft were step and
jagged. Its V-shaped base was clogged
with dirty snow. Wind rushed down it
with a sustained roaring sound, making the blimp sway. The vessel shook as concentrations failed and
charms flickered. It held its position,
just.
Wisps of
cloud wreathed the sides of the cleft.
Skender strained to see through them to what lay on the other side of
the wall of stone. It was thicker than
he had imagined, however. All he could
see was the cleft itself, snaking off into the distance like some high altitude
version of the Divide.
"Well,"
said Marmion, "it appears we still have some way to go."
"Forward
will be a welcome change to up,"
"Indeed
it will. Mage Kelloman, I thank you for
your hard work and suggest your conserve your strength through this section of
our journey. We have enough potential in
reserve to fly some distance. Let us and
Griel take the burden from here."
The mage
looked for a moment as though he might argue, but exhaustion won out over pride
for once. "I--yes, thank you. I will rest for a moment."
Skender
helped the mage's borrowed body to its feet and eased him into a chair. He was surprised as always by Kelloman's
slightness
"The
way looks clear of obstructions," Marmion told the others, "but the
winds are going to be tricky. Keep it
steady as we go. We haven't come this
far to crash."
And get stuck, Skender added silently to himself, at the top of a mountain so far from home.
The
propellers whirred at a deeper pitch than before, turning the blimp around to
face nose-first into the window. The
deck rose and fell beneath him with a steady rhythm as they slid gracefully
into the cleft. Skender peered out
either side of the gondola, newly energised by the achievement of their quest and
unable to sit passively by as the next stage unfolded. Lidia Delfine and her bodyguard-cum-fiancée,
Heuve, did the same. Snow drifts as
thick as houses lay below, hugging folds and wrinkles the pallid sun couldn't breach. Nothing but granite was visible between them,
black and forbidding like ancient, stained bones.
#
The twins
had had too much time to stare out the windows as the endless grey cliff slid
by, interrupted by ledges, ramparts, shelfs of snow, and mighty fissures, but
essentially unchanging. Rock was rock. In their original earthly life they had been
used to landscapes where time and nature had flattened the land like teeth worn
down by grinding. They hadn't seen snow or
mountains until their disastrous trip to
The eyes
of the Homunculus, the artificial body in which they were now confined, glazed
over as the walls of the cleft slid by.
Their previous disconnection from the world had faded at last; there was
no hiding now from its complexities and perils.
The same was true of themselves; their memories had cleared as though a
curtain had parted. Where unwillingness
or uncertainty had shielded them from the worst of their pasts, now nothing
protected them. The feel of Locyta's
knife stabbing into Seth's chest; the draci straddling Hadrian; the
confrontation with the Sisters of the Flame...
In Sheol,
under the guidance of the Sisters, they had each explored their life-trees--the
many-branched tangle of possibilities that revealed every conceivable event in
their lives from the perspective of the Third Realm. Only in one world-line--one long, tapering
branch--had they seen a chance of escape from their fated deaths at the hands
of Yod. Hadrian had followed that
world-line to the point where it suddenly diverged into possibility again, and
there he had stopped. There he had seen
a chance that Yod would fail. That had
been enough to give him hope.
Both of
them now wished that he had gone further, to see what actual chance awaited them.
How would Yod be beaten? What did
the twins need to do to ensure their survival?
Who, out of those who had helped and hindered them since their arrival
in the new world, would live and who would die?
Skender, Marmion and the others had been strangers once, but were no
longer. They mattered too.
Either
way, Yod was back, rattling at the bars if not yet fully free. It had devoured the Lost Minds in the Void
Beneath, gaining strength for...something.
With every day's ascent, they felt its shadow growing darker and
stronger, looming deeper and more ominously.
Now, with the end of their journey so very close, the shadow sucked at
them like a black hole, tugging them onward and inward to their destiny.
Reflected
in the window facing the cliff, they saw the black face of the Homunculus
staring back at them. A shadow with hard
edges, it had no recognisable features: no eyes, no nostrils, no wrinkles, no
personality at all.
Who's an ugly boy, then? whispered Seth into Hadrian's
mind.
Hadrian
felt absurdly like laughing--but the feeling had gloom at its heart as dark as
the Homunculus's aspect. I reckon we've lost weight.
Something
glowing with a faint silver light caught their eye, deeper in the
reflection. They leaned closer to the
pane of glass in order to see more clearly.
The reflection of the Homunculus's face seemed to swallow the entire
view.
What's that? he asked.
Low in his view was a shining cross, roughly where his chest might have
been.
Not a cross, little brother. An ankh.
Hadrian
understood, then. In the Second Realm,
Seth had confronted eight godlike beings known as the Ogdoad. The ancient sign they had marked him with had
enabled them to survive in the Void Beneath when so many other minds had not. Seth had taken the mark for granted for
centuries, and Hadrian had had no reason to think of it. Only at that moment did they realise what a
great boon it had been.
It stopped us from dissolving into the hum, Seth said.
So we thought. But we know now that the hum was Yod itself, which
means--
It protects us from Yod, Hadrian finished. Does
that mean Yod can't kill us?
Don't get too excited. Maybe it just stops Yod from noticing us.
Hadrian
leaned away from the reflection, and his brother came with him. Still,
it's something.
It is indeed.
The twins
pondered the new understanding of themselves as the blimp traversed the wall of
mountains. The Homunculus was immune to
altitude sickness, but cold bothered it.
They were sleeping more and more, the higher they went, sometimes as
long as three hours a night, and their dreams were spectacular. In one of them, Yod had looked like a giant
clown whose mouth was the entrance to a glittering fairground. Rows upon rows of people queued patiently and
filed inside. The clown's eyes grew
redder and darker as they filled up with blood until finally they spilled a
flood of crimson tears down grimacing cheeks and swept the twins away.
Skender
came and sat next to them, bunching up his black robe in order to keep the
drafts from his stockinged legs.
"What
do you think?" he asked them. The
white-skinned young mage wasn't looking at them or his girlfriend, for a
change; his attention was firmly fixed on what lay beyond the windows.
Only then
did Hadrian realise that they had almost reached the end of the cleft. People peered and whispered excitedly among
themselves at the first glimpses of their destination. His first impression was that a whole other
range lay in the misty distance--as though they had crossed one barrier only to
encounter another just as large beyond it.
Then he realised that the northern and southern ends of that range
curved west to form a giant circle.
"A
crater," Seth said. "Like a
volcano, only much bigger."
"I've
read about volcanoes in the Book of Towers," Skender said. "They're mountains that vomit fire and
ash, right?"
Seth
nodded, studying the far side of the crater with unease. The jagged peaks were white with ice and snow
as though dusted by a giant baker.
"A
volcano with a lake in it?" asked
"How
could there be a lake up here?" Skender asked. "Why hasn't it frozen over?"
"Both
good questions," said Warden Banner, seated not far from them with a
crutch held tightly in her hand. Since
breaking her leg during the attack of the Swarm on Milang, she had been
confined to light duties. "Here's another:
are those houses down there?"
Sure
enough, on the southern shoreline of the lake huddled a cluster of low, black
roofed dwellings, perhaps forty in all, with a long, narrow pier protruding
into the water.
No, the
twins told themselves on a closer inspection.
Not into the water. The shoreline
had dropped precipitously in recent times, by the look of the frosty mud caked
below its original high-mark. Now the
houses stood twenty metres back from the actual shore, and the pier led to
nothing but more mud. There were no
boats visible anywhere.
"Who
would live up here?" asked Griel.
"Maybe
no one, now," said Marmion, and Seth could see his point. No smoke issued from the houses; no people
walked the village's narrow streets.
Skender
looked disappointed. "I was
expecting something grander, I'll admit."
"Be
careful what you wish for," Hadrian told him. "I've had enough excitement for one
lifetime."
"Two,
even," Seth added.
"True,
true," Skender said. "Do you
recognise anything? Is any of this
familiar to you?"
Hadrian
shook his head.
"Look
at the lake," said his brother, pointing with one black finger. "They're not islands."
Attention
shifted from the village to the centre of the lake. Three broad columns stood out of the water, dozens
of metres high and as black as jet. One
loomed higher than the others, its top truncated as though sheered off by a
giant knife. The light caught it and
radiated sickly gleams.
"Tower
Aleph," Seth said. "That's
from the Second Realm."
"So
you do recognise something?"
Marmion asked, peering as closely at the twins as he was at the distant
structures.
"What
Seth's saying," said Hadrian, "is that these are the tops of three
towers Yod was building before it made the big leap. They were supposed act as bridges across Bardo
when the Cataclysm took effect. We
stopped Yod in its tracks, of course, so I guess these got stuck halfway
too."
"I've
never heard of them," said Skender.
"You'd think they'd be at least mentioned in the Book of
Towers."
The twins
had no opinion on that, just a similar, nagging feeling of being left in the
dark.
Skender
glanced at his girlfriend at the other end of the gondola. The Asian-looking miner from Laure winked
back at him. Embarrassed, the twins
looked away. The mutual obsession between
the two young lovers reminded them of cold nights in Europe and an unhappy
ending in
Something
moved out of the corner of Hadrian's eye.
On the receding flanks of the cleft, a long-limbed, grey figure broke
cover and took a running leap across the space between it and the gondola. The twins barely had time to recognise the
terrible shape before another followed.
There was no mistaking their intent.
The two hideous creatures leapt with limbs flailing and steel-grey teeth
bared. Long-bladed scissors snipped
where hands should have been.
"Watch
out!" Seth yelled.
Then all
was breaking glass and shrieking wind, and the terrible clash of eight blades
snipping at everything in reach.
#
Devels?
Here? Impossible!
Seth
ignored his brother's mental protest and pushed Skender behind him. His hands went through the young mage's back
until Hadrian added his own impetus to the shove. They forced their way up the aisle to where
Panic and wardens struggled with this new danger. Both groups were exhausted from the long
ascent. Any reserves of strength they
possessed would be sorely tested.
Seth and
Hadrian forced their way through with necessary brusqueness. The two scissor-handed devels lunged and
snapped at anyone within reach, issuing terrible, ear-piercing howls. One of the balloonists fell back with her
throat fatally cut. A roar came from one
side, where the bodyguard Heuve slashed ferociously back at the nearest
devel. The forester looked almost
grateful for something to do, but the expression was soon wiped off his
beardless face--almost literally, as a pair of blades barely missed his
nose. Only a wild lunge backwards saved
him, and a skilful parry from Lidia Delfine defended his exposed stomach from
another slash.
Together,
the two of them drove their adversaries back to the fore of the gondola, where Marmion
and
The
second creature slashed a hole through the ceiling and leapt outside. The twins snatched at its heels too late, and
clambered after it, wary of the blades that instantly snapped at their emerging
head. The creature snarled at them,
prompting memories of crossing of Bardo to the Underworld. Then, a creature identical to the one he was
following had taken Seth by surprise and cut off his hand. The hand had grown back almost instantly,
restored by the persistent impression of himself that was more important in the
Second Realm than actual flesh and blood--but that hadn't lessened the shock
and pain he had experienced.
The
memory gave him an idea. As the blades
snapped at them again, he raised his right arm and thrust it deliberately
between them.
The
blades bounced off his skin with a shower of sparks, repelled by the
Homunculus's rock-solid maintenance of his sense of self. The devel shrieked in frustration. He twisted his arm around and freed it, and
lashed out with a clenched fist for the creature's face.
It
recoiled with a hiss. Together, Seth and
his brother slithered out of the gondola, mindful of their footing on the
ice-rimed wooden exterior. Three metres
above them, the giant bladder strained and rocked, held down by dozens of thin,
charm-strengthened cables. Strange
geometric shapes raced across its balloon's light-brown skin.
The devel
raised its scissor-handed arms and faced the twins. Wind snatched at them as they planted their
four feet wide and held their four arms high.
"Who
sent you?" Seth shouted.
"Culsu? Yod?"
Grey eyes
blinked at them. They didn't doubt that
it could understand them. They had seen
enough of the new world to know that Hekau worked just as well as it had in the
Second Realm: anyone who wanted to be understood could be understood, regardless what language they were actually
speaking.
For a
second they thought the devel might reply.
It hesitated, anyway, tilting its head to one side as though wondering
who or what they were.
Then it
reached out with both arms and began snipping cables.
"No!" The twins jumped forward, knocking the
creature flat on its back. It didn't
retaliate. In its brief moment of
consideration it seemed to have decided to care less about its own life than
bringing down the gondola. Even as it
sprawled across the slippery roof, its scissor-hands snapped at every cable and
wire within reach. Each sharp twang sent
a nail of fear through the twins. How
many cables could snap before the whole contrivance unravelled, sending the
gondola tumbling down to the unforgiving rock and snow below?
The
balloon shuddered. Its angle of flight steepened
upwards. The twins threw themselves
bodily at the devel, knowing they had to deal with the threat quickly now. Griel was taking his charges away from any
further attacks but inadvertently increasing their danger in the process.
The
roaring of propellers grew louder as the twins wrestled with their assailant,
tumbling from side to side through the forest of cables. With a snarl, the creature slipped free and
lunged for a dense knot near the rear of the balloon. The twins caught it in a flying tackle,
sending it skidding across the slippery gondola. The points of its scissors struck off
splinters of ice as it sought to find a grip.
The attempt failed. Emitting a
high-pitched cry, it slipped over the side and was sucked into the balloon's
rear-port engine.
Propeller
blade and scissor-creature met with a powerful explosion. The twins ducked their heads. Pieces of both whizzed past them, ricocheting
off the gondola and arcing into open air.
When the
echoes of the explosion faded, they raised their head to inspect the
damage. All that remained of the
propeller and its chimerical engine was a smoking black stump. A high-pitched whistling, growing louder by
the second, came from several jagged tears in the balloon.
"Crap." Seth drove them back to the hole in the
gondola. If Griel didn't already know
about the damage, he would need to immediately.
The balloon shook and rolled, already destabilised by the severed
cables. How long it would remain
airworthy was beyond his knowledge.
"I
know, I know. I'm doing everything I
can," said the Panic soldier as they dropped into the chaotic
interior. The pilot console was emitting
a persistent chiming sound; needles dipped and shuddered on every gauge.
"Is
there anything we can do?"
"Just
hold tight. I'm going to try to bring us
down safely." Griel tugged at
levers and pushed buttons. The balloon
swayed giddyingly. "With luck,
we'll make it."
Seth
filtered out the sound of people shouting in order to concentrate on what lay
through the shattered windows ahead: the crater lake and its dark ruins.
"I'd
be happy to land in one piece," said Marmion, gripping a black-stained
wooden pole for balance.
"Give
me space and I'll do what I can."
Griel waved them back, and
"If
there's anything we can do," Hadrian started to say again.
"There
is," said Marmion, pulling them towards the rear of the shaking
gondola. "You can tell me what those
things were, just in case there are more waiting for us when we land."
The
balloon shook and canted downwards. The
twins did their best to ignore it.
"It's a devel," Seth said.
"They lived in the Underworld before the realms were jammed
together. These particular devels were
ruled by a minor dei called Culsu."
"A
dei?" The warden's expression was
simultaneously worried and puzzled.
"Is that something like a god?"
"Someone
probably worshipped them at some point.
I don't know. Their job when I
knew them was to cut up the souls of dead people as they tried to get to the
Second Realm. The remains would be given
to Yod to eat."
"So
they ultimately worked for Yod."
"Yes." Seth watched black-spattered Lidia Delfine
focussing an eyeglass on the lake's dark shoreline. It was growing visibly closer. "I guess they still do."
"Do
you think there could be more of them?"
"I'd
be amazed if there weren't."
Griel had
taken a measure of control over the balloon.
With a discernible effort, it was turning towards the nearest
village. Seth swallowed his
misgivings. There might still be people
around, huddling for shelter from the cold and the devels. They might need help as badly as the
expedition, when it landed among them.
"Take
your seats," called Griel from the front of the gondola. "We're going down."
"And
by that," said
The
balloon lurched and tilted so steeply that even the Homunculus's four legs had
trouble keeping purchase. Seth was
dismayed to see how quickly they had fallen in such a short time. He and Hadrian helped the others to safety,
then took a position of their own towards the rear. Through the cracked window beside them, he
could see the black scar left by the destroyed engine and the slopes of the
crater rising up to meet them. There was
no sign of more devels--or worse.
If the towers are here, Hadrian began.
Then Yod might be too, Seth finished. We've known
it would be around somewhere. Doesn't
change anything.
It changes everything. It's not a computer game or a dream. It's right here, right now. Everything we went into the Void for is about
to happen.
It's much too late for second thoughts.
I know.
I'm not having them. I'm just--
Terrified.
Yes, me too.
They
clung tight to the seat as the icy earth came up at them and, with a deafening
crunch, the gondola bucked beneath them.
"The Trail"
"If love conquers all, love itself must
be conquered."
The Book of Towers, Exegesis 4:19
On the
fifth day Sal, Kail and Highson argued, as they had every other day. This time the debate was over whether to mark
the coming of night by camping halfway up a cliff face or to continue to the
top in the darkness, there to wait for dawn to pick up the trail of the
man'kin. Sal wanted to push on, hoping
to keep travelling without pause. Kail
was more pragmatic, pointing out that the chances of losing the trail entirely
were high. Highson stayed out of the
discussion for the most part, except when brought into it by Kail or Sal. He didn't come out and say it, but Sal knew
why that was, and that angered him more than Kail's stubborn refusal to change
his mind.
"So
you're tired," Sal told Highson.
"Big deal. We all are. Do you want special treatment? Do you want to stay behind?"
"I'm
not asking for anything, Sal."
"But
you're not agreeing with me. You don't
want to go any further."
"I
can see where Habryn's coming from. And
you too, for the record. I just don't want
to take sides."
"Do
you wish we'd stayed at the village?"
His
father sighed, his broad features shadowed by the furred hood keeping the cold
off his scalp. "I don't want to
argue, Sal. I'll leave the decision up
to you. I trust your instincts."
Sal retreated
into himself to spare the men his frustration.
The Goddess knew they'd endured plenty of it in recent days. Following the trail of the man'kin was simply
taking too long. While the three of them
limped their way across ever steeper, ever more rugged terrain, Shilly drew
further and further out of reach. Deeply
etched the trail might be--for creatures of solid stone could not tread
lightly, even across a mountainside--but it wouldn't last forever. Every morning Sal woke afraid that this would
be the day they lost the trail and had to turn back.
The heat
of his anger kept the wind's chill at bay, but he could still feel it biting
into his nose and face all the same. His
fingers felt half frozen even in their gloves.
Every muscle ached from climbing with a heavy pack on his back. In his mind's eye, all he saw was Shilly
getting further and further ahead of him.
Every minute they paused, they slipped more behind. The man'kin didn't stop to sleep; they
climbed on into the night, every night.
"Damn
them," he said, looking up at the frosty stars. "They're too fast, and we should've left
sooner."
"Don't
blame yourself," said Highson.
"I'm
not. And I refuse to blame Shilly. That doesn't leave me with many options,
though." Highson went to say something,
but Sal cut him off. "I'd rather
just keep moving. Catching up will solve
all our problems."
"They
have to stop eventually," Kail said.
The
thought offered Sal no comfort. They had
been over this many times before. If
they knew where the man'kin were going, they could head them off before they
arrived. But beyond up, the tracker could guess little in the unfamiliar terrain.
"So
do we," Sal said, admitting that much, "but not now."
"All
right," the tracker said, agreeing reluctantly. "But let's stop at the top of the face
and rest. The more tired we are, the
more likely we are to make mistakes, and mistakes will get us killed. That won't help Shilly at all."
Sal
nodded, mentally satisfied but physically dreading the long climb ahead. He tightened the straps of his pack. "Let's get on with it, then."
Highson
said nothing as they resumed their journey.
For a
brief instant, as he pulled his own hood tighter around his ears, Sal heard the
sound of mocking laughter on the wind, but it was gone before he could ask the
others if they heard it too.
#
The
half-full moon cast a cold, silver light over the face of the mountain. The route they followed was less a path than
a series of goat tracks occasionally used by humans too. Below, at the base of the cliff, huddled a
tiny village where they had paused briefly to reprovision. Its lanterns were barely visible now,
shuttered against sinister forces supposedly abroad on the mountains. Sal and his companions had been regarded as
such at first, and never completely earned the villagers trust.
Kail said
that the man'kin and their mysterious companions had climbed straight up the
sheer cliff looming over the small settlement.
While the locals had shivered in their beds, Shilly and the man'kin had casually
scaled an edifice Sal could barely imagine climbing, let alone quickly enough
to keep up. Life in the flat, coastal
At the
top of the path, when they finally reached it, there were no more
arguments. Sal was glad to help Highson
and Kail unfurl their low tent and crawl inside. Sleeping close together for warmth as the
wind howled outside, they had no energy for disagreements. There was only well-earned rest, as dreamless
and barren as the mountain face itself.
That
wasn't true, Sal told himself as he drifted off. The mountain was no more barren than a
desert. Life struggled, but hadn't yet
given up. Just that day, he had found a
spray of bright blue flowers growing from a niche between two giant slabs of
black rock. Tiny red ants crawled up and
down the flower stems. A fragile spider
web connected the two slabs further up.
Even in such extreme conditions, nature found a way.
He would
find a way too. He wouldn't give
up. The man'kin did have to stop eventually, and Shilly with them. She couldn't climb a metre with her bad leg
the way it was. And when he caught up
with her...
That was
where his thoughts always froze. What
happened then? Rescue her? Berate her?
Argue with her over how the world will end?
Sal
thrust all thought of Tom and prophecies from his mind. He could worry about that later. For now, he needed only to rest. That he could accomplish easily enough. All he had to do was close his eyes...
He woke
at dawn. The air inside the tent was
thick with the smell of the three unwashed men it sheltered. He could tell from the rhythm of Kail's
breathing that the tracker was awake, but he too hadn't gotten up. In wordless agreement, they waited until
Highson stirred before making any move to rise.
Kail may have been the oldest by at least two decades but he wasn't
remotely the weakest. Sal's father was
still recovering from his close encounter with death while chasing the
Homunculus across the
After
breaking their fast and stowing their gear, Kail scouted the top of the cliff
in search of the man'kin trail. The hat
he wore in preference to a hood gave him a dark halo and left his face in
shadow. Less than a minute passed before
he called Sal and Highson over.
"Well,
we didn't lose them," he said, pointing out the crushed pebbles and heavy
scrapes indicating the passage of their quarry.
"That's something to be thankful for."
Sal
agreed, telling himself not to think about the time that had passed while the
slept. Kail was right: to push himself
too hard would be to commit suicide. One
slip was all it would take.
The way
ahead looked easier. That was something
else to be thankful for. A winding ridge
led up to the meeting point of two broad expanses. There the ridge became a valley that snaked
higher up into the massive mountain range.
The man'kin tracks clearly went that way, stretching to the limit of
Sal's sight. The sun was still hidden
behind the mass of stone to the east; more would become apparent towards noon,
when the day was at its brightest. They
would reach the alley by then, if Sal's new knowledge of mountain treks could
be trusted. Should any surprises lie in wait
for them there, that would time out well.
"Let's
get moving," he said, not seeing any point in delaying. If the way ahead was easier for them, it
would have been easier for the man'kin too.
Highson
tipped the dregs of his tea onto the grey stone. Thick stubble painted his dark face with
black and grey. "What day is
this?"
"Day
six." Kail shrugged into his pack
and flexed his long limbs. His dark eyes
perfectly matched the stony vista around them.
"My
calluses are getting calluses."
Sal's father stowed his cup in his pack and lifted it onto his
shoulders. "Okay. I'm ready."
Sal
brought up the rear, watching his footing on the ridge as closely as he would
have on a cliff. The slopes to either
side were steep; a tumble would be protracted but just as fatal as if he had
fallen unimpeded. The safety rope connecting
him to Highson and Kail would mean little if he dragged them both after him.
The
steady crunching of their footsteps on cold stones was the only sound they made
that morning.
#
At noon,
when they reached the entrance to the valley, they stopped briefly to reconsider
their options. A chill wind blew from
far above down the V-shaped channel of stone, directly into their faces. Yet another thing that wouldn't have bothered
the man'kin, Sal thought. The skin of
his cheeks was peeling; his eyes felt like pickled onions. The scarf wrapped around his face barely kept
the worst of it at bay.
Looking
up the valley to where the pallid sun was peering around the mountains, a trick
of perspective made him feel profoundly dizzy, as though the world was turning
upside down. He staggered back a step,
into Kail, and looked hastily at the ground.
"You're
feeling it too, huh?" The tracker's
chapped lips formed the words without any sign of embarrassment. "Mountain fever, my teacher used to call
it. Never thought I'd experience it
myself."
Highson
was panting heavily. "Can't seem to
catch my breath."
"It's
going to get worse," Kail declared.
"We need to watch out for each other. At the slightest sign of real disability, we
stop to rest."
"Is
there anything else we can do?" asked Sal, thinking of the man'kin's lead.
"Yes. Give up and turn back."
"No."
"I
knew you were going to say that."
Kail took a swig from his water bottle.
"You do need to be aware, however, that it remains an option."
"Not
for me. You can go back if you want to,
but I'm going on."
"You
can't do this on your own," said Highson from beneath his hood.
"I
will if I have to."
"That
would be stupid. You'll kill yourself."
Anger
flared in Sal like kindling bursting into flame. "Don't you tell me what's stupid or not.
We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. I'd be back home in Fundelry with Shilly,
safe and warm. There'd be no Homunculus,
no man'kin, no fucking mountains to climb.
Why couldn't you have stayed in the
"You
know why, Sal."
"Sure. My mother.
You should have given up on her like you did before."
Highson
stared up at him, unblinking. "I
tried to save her for you."
"No. You wanted her back. Don't lie about that. You have no idea what I wanted. You tried to bring her back for you."
"For
both of us, then. Do you blame me for
trying?"
Sal threw
his hands up in exasperation, at himself and at Highson. What was the point in going over this? His mother was long-dead. Only Highson, with his bold and stupid plan
of resurrecting her from the Void Beneath, had thought otherwise. If he hadn't built the Homunculus to act as
her new body, the twins would have had nowhere to go. And if the twins hadn't left the Void
Beneath...
"We're
back here again," said Kail, watching them both with hands on hips. "What is it with you two and blame? In the long-run, it doesn't make any
difference."
"It
makes all the difference," said Sal.
"No,
it doesn't. If you get to my age, you'll
realise. And you'll never get to my age
if you go charging up this mountain on your own. Highson's right on that score. I think you know it."
Sal
looked down at his feet. The emotions
boiling in him were so hard to control sometimes, but he rarely exploded so
violently. Mountain fever clearly didn't
improve his temper.
"Do
you really think we should go back?" he asked Kail.
"I
don't, Sal. I never said I did." The tracker's long face was even more
weathered than usual. In just five days,
the mountainous trek had added new lines around his mouth and eyes. He too was recovering from an injury, and that
showed sometimes in a certain stiffness when he moved. "I want to see where the man'kin are
heading as badly as you."
"Good." Sal felt bad, then, for getting angry. Highson and Kail were on his side. They weren't his enemies.
Something
obscured the sun for a split-second. He
looked up, expecting to see clouds overhead.
But the sky was clear of any but the faintest wisps, as it had been
since they'd emerged from the cloud line the previous day. Perfectly clear, in fact.
Now my eyes are going, he told himself.
"Let's
rest," he said, tugging the pack from his shoulders with a sigh and
stretching out flat on the ground. Even
through numerous layers of clothing, the stone was cold against his back and
backside, but it helped clear his head. Six
days of walking and climbing were just the beginning. He had to assume that or else another six
might drive him mad, for it could well take him that long to catch up with
Shilly. But the chance remained that the
man'kin's destination was just at the end of this valley, or perhaps the next
one. He might stumble across her
tomorrow or the day after. That hope
warred with despair, leaving him feeling very much battered between them.
Somehow
he nodded off, and woke to Kail's hand shaking his shoulder. Less than half an hour had passed but his
muscles seemed to have completely seized.
Hobbling like an old man, he set off after the others under sunlight so
weak he could barely feel its warmth on his cheeks.
#
The beast
surprised them shortly after nightfall.
At the summit of the valley, the path had soon devolved into a series of
switchbacks and rockfalls, the latter probably triggered by the man'kin as they
had passed through. Negotiating them consumed
a large proportion of the fading light and left Sal and his companions even
more exhausted than they had been the previous night. The Change was strong in them, but there were
limits. The wardens in particular had
little dominion over stone, leaving Sal to do any heavy lifting required.
By
mirrorlight there was only so much progress to be made. Even Sal could see that. Disturb the wrong rockpile the wrong way and
the whole mountainside could come down on top of them.
Wiping
his dusty gloves on his outermost pants and wishing not for the first time for
a hot bath, Sal took the tent roll from Kail and prepared to unfold it.
A rattle
of stones from further uphill prompted him to look up. A pair of wide eyes gleamed back at him. Seen, the creature abandoned stealth and
bounded downslope towards them. Barely
had Sal uttered a warning cry when it lifted off all fours and leapt right for
him.
Reflected
light flared from sharp claws and teeth.
The animal landed bodily on Sal, knocking him clear off his feet and the
wind from his lungs. Hot fluid gushed
over him. His mouth filled with a salty
copperiness that instantly made him gag.
For too long he flailed helplessly at the beast before remembering the
Change. He was weak after the day's
exertions, but strong enough. With a
flash of burning fur and blood, the beast flew away from him and into solid
stone. The smack of its flesh sickened
him as much as the taste of its blood.
Hands
clutched at him. "Sal, are you all
right?" Highson pulled him to his
feet.
Sal
pushed the hands away. "I--I think
so. Goddess!" He spat.
By the light of a brightly shining mirror, he wiped at his face and chest. Blood as black as the sky above had soaked
through layers of wool almost as far as his skin. "What happened? What is that thing?"
The body
lay limp on its side five metres away. "It's
a Shiva bear," said Kail, crossing to inspect it. "A hungry one, by the look of it. They normally hunt only on moonless
nights. This one must've been desperate."
Just an
animal, then. That was something. Sal had feared that they'd encountered more
wraiths or worse. But this creature was
little larger than a big dog, with shaggy reddish fur and a broad snout. Nothing more sophisticated than a bow and
arrow could have killed it.
Highson
still fussed at him, as though unwilling to accept his word that he was
okay. "It came out of nowhere. Habryn threw something. A knife, I think."
They both
turned to look at the tracker. He had
bent over the corpse and pulled a slender, steel blade from its throat. Sal swallowed, amazed by the man's speed and
accuracy. "You know these things?"
he asked.
"By
reputation." The tracker ambled
back, his eyes avoiding the light, taking in the night all around them
instead. "They travel in pairs."
"We'd
better be more careful then," said Highson. "If that thing had got its mouth around
Sal's throat..."
Sal
brushed away his father's concern, irritated as much by it as he was at his own
incompetence in the face of danger. He
should have reacted as quickly and capably as Kail. He might need to in order to survive the
journey.
"Well,
it didn't," he said, startled by the brusqueness of his tone, "so let's
not make a big deal of this. We're
tired. We were taken by surprise." Maybe,
he thought, I have been pushing us too
hard. "We won't make that
mistake again."
"And
look on the upside," said Kail, his teeth gleaming. "We've gained some fresh meat. I think there'll be enough on its bones to
feed the three of us for a day or two.
It won't take me long to butcher it."
Sal
swallowed automatic revulsion, telling himself that bear meat was bound to
taste better than its blood. And now the
excitement was over, bruises were making themselves felt where the bear had hit
him and he had fallen on his arse. "We
could light a fire," he said. "Have
a proper meal, for a change."
"We
could." Kail nodded. "You two keep watch, just in case the
mate is lurking around somewhere. The
fire might not keep it away for long, if it's as hungry as this one was."
They set
to it immediately. Highson kept his
pocket mirror radiating at full strength while Kail went about his grisly
job. Once their packs were placed at the
centre of their impromptu campsite, Sal began looking for something to
burn. There wasn't much, but it did
exist. The bulk of the heat might come
from suitable stones he gathered as well, but there would be real flames on top
of it, and real smoke. The meat would
cook properly, and they would all feel better for it.
The small
blaze was crackling happily by the time Kail returned with the first cuts from
the dismembered beast. The smell of it
cooking sent saliva rushing through Sal's mouth, and he had to force himself to
keep looking away from it and at the darkness around them instead. He saw and heard nothing untoward. Perhaps, he thought, the fire and the scent
of blood had frightened the mate off.
Nevertheless he agreed with Kail that watches should be posted through
that night, just in case it returned and found the three of them sound asleep.
He ate
until he could physically eat no more then settled back in his bedroll with the
soothing sound of flames in his ears. He
felt warmer, even if the wind was cold and his cheeks and toes ached. Insulating charms stitched into collars and
blankets helped. When Kail volunteered
to take the first watch, he was happy to accept the offer. His body remained tender from the attack of
the bear, and a headache was building in his temples. He drifted off into blackness with the
thought that bear meat hadn't been half as bad as he had expected. Nothing like lamb or rabbit, but a vast
improvement on the tough jerky they had picked up in the town below...
Highson
shook him awake after midnight. The
night was dark and clear. A thin wind
moaned eerily through the switchbacks, setting Sal's teeth on edge. That and a slight queasiness brought on by
too much strange meat made staying awake easy.
Even when his two hours were up, he delayed a little longer to give Kail
extra time to sleep. The tracker slept
with a pinched, pained expression on his face, as though worrying in his
dreams. Highson's face was barely
visible at all, with little more than his nose showing from inside the bedroll,
swaddled in protective fabric.
When Sal
finally returned to bed, barely an hour remained before dawn. He fell instantly and deeply asleep, and woke
only when a light rain misted over his face.
He blinked, startled, and sat bolt upright in his bedroll.
The sun
was up, but the camp was silent. Highson
lay beside him, snoring peacefully. Kail
had slumped over where he sat by the fire, which smoked thinly under the
half-hearted shower. Between them, the
contents of their packs lay spread out across the stony ground. Something had thoroughly rummaged through
them, leaving clothes, supplies and equipment in disarray.
Sal's cry
of alarm woke Kail with a start.
"What?" The tracker took in the ruin of their camp
with one sweeping glance. He looked
equal parts haggard and appalled. "How
did this happen?"
Sal left
that question unanswered. He was already
sorting through the scattered items, dividing them into three piles in an
attempt to see what was missing. It
seemed obvious that Kail had nodded off during his watch, leaving the camp
exposed, but he didn't want to openly accuse the tracker of anything,
especially after the previous day's discussion about blame.
"Was
it the bear?" asked Highson, emerging, blinking sleepily, from his
bedroll.
"No." Kail had stood on cracking limbs and was
staring in puzzlement at the ground around the camp. "Bears don't use charms. Not in my experience, anyway."
Sal
followed the direction of Kail's gaze and saw too the black circle enclosing
the camp site. Arcane symbols surrounded
the circle, drawn, Sal realised, just outside the warm glow cast by the
fire. "Is that charcoal?"
"Yes." Kail looked angry, now.
"I
recognise these signs," said Highson.
"Whoever drew them wanted to keep us quiet while they took what
they wanted. What's missing, Sal? Give us the bad news."
That was
the odd thing. "Nothing," he
said, checking through their belongings one last time to make sure. "It seems to be all here. Even the bear meat. Nothing's been taken."
"That
doesn't make sense." Highson
squatted next to him to double-check.
"I
agree, but there it is." Sal ran a
hand through his long hair. "It
could be worse. We could have been
murdered in our sleep." Despite the
evidence of the charm, part of him was still annoyed at Kail for letting this
happen. If Upuaut had been behind this
particular gambit, or something even nastier...
"What about tracks?" he asked Kail. The tracker had stepped outside the circle to
inspect the stone surrounding it. "Can
you tell who or what did this?"
The
tracker shook his head. "There are
some marks over here--" He pointed
back the way they had come, where a shelf of rock overhung the way
downhill. "But I can't tell what
made them. It was big, whatever it was."
"A
man'kin?"
Kail
shrugged.
"Do you think o