by S Kaeth
They should go out the door they’d come in, escape into the City. Olorah would be looking for them. But the Angels might be lying in wait, or if they were gone, the guards would be thirsty for blood. And how to account for the Angels-food? Would they be mostly docile again, or would they herd them once more? She peered down the tunnel. The strange vanishing door had crashed shut. Could they get out that way now? Even if they could manage to get it open again, even if the Angels-food and Angels were no longer an issue, they’d have to battle their way through the guards and hope the psions had blasted through the wall.
Perhaps there was another way out of the mountain. The Kamalti had captured her when they found her off the trail six winters ago. They hadn’t listened then; there was no reason to believe they’d be more reasonable now.
The little boy crouched by Kaemada’s body, where she lay crumpled in the tunnel, shaking her. Reinan sprawled nearby on the floor. With a groan, Elisabei crawled over to her husband to check for breath. Eian watched her, his sobbing quieted. Once she was sure that Reinan and Kaemada were merely unconscious, she looked at Eian. “How long were we out?”
Eian wiped his nose with the back of his hand and hiccuped. “A long time.”
“How long?”
“I’m hungry.”
How was she supposed to make a decision with such awful information? Elisabei gritted her teeth.
Eian’s face crumpled and he curled inward on himself, rocking back and forth.
Well, that hadn’t helped at all. Awkwardly, she pulled the boy close for a hug. “She’s only sleeping. It may do her some good, help her heal.”
Eian nodded, sniffed, and hiccuped again. “I was scared.”
Elisabei patted his shoulder. “I know. So was I.”
After a little bit, Elisabei pulled over her pack, cast a wary glance at the statue-like Kamalti, and opened it, sharing some food with the boy.
“Not too much. We do not know how long we will be here,” she cautioned. Devouring her own meager meal, she then turned her attention to stitching and bandaging Kaemada’s wounds as well as she could. The dangers now were blood loss and infection, at least from what she could see in the dim, flickering light. But why wasn’t she awake?
Not long after she repacked their supplies, Reinan finally stirred and woke. He grumbled, shooting dark looks toward the Kamalti. Then, he indicated Kaemada with raised eyebrows.
Elisabei shook her head, answering his unspoken question. “She’s only unconscious.”
With a grunt, Reinan sat back against the wall. At least here, they were not in immediate danger. They would wait a bit for things to calm down out there and give Kaemada time to heal. If she was mobile, they would have their hands free, just in case they needed to fight. They waited in silence, keeping track of the time by the amount of oil their lamp was burning. It did waste fuel, but without the light they might not make it through the waiting sane. The tunnel remained utterly changeless save for the occasional movements of the psions as they shambled in and out of the darkness beyond their tiny pool of light.
The psions kept their distance, but the constant staring spooked her. After what she guessed was a day of waiting, both she and Reinan were eager to move. But where to go? Backward was as dangerous as forward.
Reinan bent to pick up Kaemada, but four of the psions advanced, arms outstretched. “We have not finished conversing.”
Her husband hesitated.
Elisabei clenched her fists, unnerved by the prospect of feeling that mental pain again. “Are we prisoners here?”
“No. Go, stay, we care not. But this one stays until we finish our conversation.”
“We should move on,” Elisabei said to Reinan.
“I’m not leaving Mahkae.” Stubbornness filled the boy’s voice, and his eyebrows were drawn in a line.
Reinan sat in thought for some time, then nodded. Eian scowled at them as they rose. Reinan picked up Kaemada while Elisabei took the boy’s hand, but as soon as they took a step, the Kamalti psions were there. They tried to go around, and pain roared in their heads, crumpling them. By the time Elisabei could think again, Eian was crouched over his mother once more, while the Kamalti hovered at the edge of the shadows.
She exchanged a glance with Reinan. The City hadn’t hardened her that much, to just abandon the boy. She flicked her gaze to Eian, and Reinan nodded, but when Reinan picked the boy up and stepped away from the mother, he screeched like the screaming Angels, kicking and clawing. The Kamalti advanced on them again, hands outstretched. Reinan quickly put Eian back down.
“Haven’t you finished your talk yet?” Elisabei’s frustration poured out in her voice as she turned on the psions.
“No.”
How long could a conversation last, and what exactly were they talking about that was so fascinating? But there were no better options. They waited.
Finally, Kaemada groaned and stirred. Relief sighed out of Elisabei. She laid a calming hand on Kaemada’s shoulder as she jerked and flailed, trying to sit up. Recognition slowly flickered in the woman’s eyes. She relaxed some, especially when Eian squeezed her, burrowing his head in her shoulder. She groaned, but clung to her son, kissing his hair. Tears leaked past her eyelashes and down her cheeks.
Elisabei grabbed their supplies, throwing them in her pack. They needed to move. “You’re finally awake. Good. At least rest helped you heal some.”
Kaemada said something, her tone almost wistful.
Elisabei clucked her tongue. It had been several winters since she’d heard Rinaryn. “Why are you speaking Rinaryn?”
Kaemada shook her head. “Aonat mino Waneidei Vair!”
“I’m speaking plain Traveller’s.” Eian’s translation prompted a quizzical look from Kaemada.
Biting back her exasperation, Elisabei leaned forward. “No. You’re not.”
Kaemada shrank back, clasping shaking hands over her mouth. “Elisabei? Lameis! Lameis onsa nlaey ehreiuw!”
Eyes. Something about eyes. Elisabei rubbed her eyes absently.
Confusion wrinkled Eian’s brow as he translated. “You’re bleeding! You’re bleeding from your eyes!”
Elisabei sighed. “I’m not, Kaemada. You’re seeing things.”
Reinan shook his head. “She’s mind-sick.”
“This kind of thing happens in those with mind-sickness or who have had a great injury to their heads.”
One arm around the boy, Kaemada rubbed her eyes, then squeezed them shut. She said something in sorrowful tones.
Eian translated, “They said they would fix me.”
A snort escaped her. Clearly the Kamalti psions had lied—they hadn’t fixed her at all.
Another murmur. “You helped me. Thank you.”
Elisabei shook her head. “And you’re not even surprised, are you?” She glanced at Reinan. “Well. The king is dead. Two key captives escaped, among several others, and many guards are dead. Oh, yes, and we no longer have to worry about the king’s psions.”
Laid out like that, it was a great victory for the Resistance, especially if they managed to break through the wall. Gratitude lifted her heart in a reluctant wave. “I never would have dreamed it possible. We will likely have someone worse set themselves up as king, but now, for the first time, I have some hope. Thank you for that.”
Kaemada closed her eyes as she rested her head on the wall behind her, looking pained.
“You will recover, Kaemada,” Elisabei said.
“At what cost?” Kaemada cried over and around Eian, who continued to translate her words. “I have done nothing well or right or good! I have only brought suffering and death where there has already been too much of both! I keep intruding on the minds of others and sending them from consciousness. I tried to escape and nearly got us killed because I trusted the wrong person! I cannot protect myself. How can I protect Eian? It was my fault Eian went missing, my fault that my friends and I were caught by the Kamalti. And where are they? I do not even know if they’re a
lright. I lost my wolf when I fell—poor Tannevar died because of me! And I miss him so. All I want is to help, but I seem to only bring pain and trouble. It’s no use!”
Kaemada shut her mouth abruptly, her face red and shamed. She buried her head in her hands.
“Come on,” Elisabei snapped. “You’re alive, that’s what matters right now. We have to go before those Kamalti decide to have another little talk with you.”
It took a moment before Kaemada spoke again, and she did so with her eyes closed while Eian translated. “They wanted to talk. They talk with people before they go to the City, and sometimes they go into the City to talk. That’s how you found the door. I think… Yes, I think the Kamalti send all their psions down here as soon as they’re discovered, along with those they consider deformed. They’re afraid; they think they’re dangerous.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Elisabei grumbled. “Will they let us go?”
Pack shouldered, Reinan watched the silent, still psions.
Kaemada considered the Kamalti quietly, then nodded. Eian translated, “Yes. We wanted to talk. I mean, they wanted to talk. Just to talk.”
“Better go before they change their minds,” Reinan rumbled.
Kaemada smiled slowly, still looking at the Kamalti. Elisabei shivered. It was spooky. Eian translated as she spoke. “They share everything. Everything. But because we all agree before we—I mean, they—act, they do not change their minds so quickly and easily as you are used to, Reinan.”
“Still, it’s probably best not to take chances.” Elisabei frowned at Kaemada, but it was too dark to do much down in the tunnel. Hopefully the condition didn’t worsen. She wasn’t sure she could fix mind-sickness.
Fear washed over Kaemada’s face and bearing in a wave. “My brother, my friends! The Collective heard them. They’re in trouble. The tunnel leads to a chasm.” She shook her head abruptly. “The Kamalti bring travellers—like you, Elisabei— to the cage at the end of the tunnel and drop them off. They haul the cage back to the top so the Collective cannot escape.”
“I don’t remember any of this,” Elisabei argued.
“The Collective reads the memories of the travellers and sends them on to the City. Some try to escape. Many have climbed the chasm walls. They die. The Collective feels those deaths, the fear, the pain. The chasm terrifies them.” She shuddered abruptly, dry-heaving. Eian, translating, looked pale.
Elisabei looked at Reinan. A cage that could be hauled to the top of a cliff? A chasm whose walls might be climbable? It sounded ominous, even if they didn’t have a child and a woman of questionable mental wellness to deal with.
“We have to go up the chasm!” Kaemada said. “The enemy has our friends. You can show us the ways to fall in the chasm.”
Elisabei shuddered at the way Kaemada drifted into speaking Traveller’s, but in plural speech. “We don’t want to fall, Kaemada!”
“There may be a way. We can guide you. You will show us,” the woman continued.
Reinan exchanged another look with her, and Elisabei sighed, glancing back toward the City. It would be a death trap, as the guards would take their anger out on everyone they thought might be involved. Reinan could well find himself hunted. And yet, a tunnel past creepy psions that led to a chasm no one had managed to climb didn’t sound any better.
Straightening his shoulders, Reinan tilted his head toward the tunnel and picked up his pack. One way was as good as the other, she supposed. With a sigh, Elisabei grabbed hers and followed. She let Kaemada lean on her for support while her son held her hand, leaving Reinan free in case they needed defense. They slid past the watchful psions, who turned as they went to keep them in view.
The tunnel ended at the bottom of a ravine. Directly in front of them was a smooth section of rock with a large metal box hanging far above them. Thick chains led from the top of it out of sight to the side of the chasm walls. She could see no way to get to it, though, and no chains dangled from it to the floor of the chasm.
Kaemada’s weight on her arm grew heavier, and the air grew stifling as Elisabei all but dragged her along. She began to startle at nothing, and Elisabei wondered if she was hallucinating again or if it was just their surroundings. Several times, the woman pointed at the chasm walls, naming people and indicating where they had started their climb as well as where they fell and died. Bones, fragments of tools, and other garbage littered the ground in large mounds. At one point, Kaemada let out a strangled sob and rested her hand on the skull of some canine animal at the edge of the cliff, weeping. Elisabei dragged her away from whatever hallucination had gripped her, ignoring her weak struggles. Twice, they were nearly hit as people above dumped buckets of refuse into the chasm.
Finally, Reinan stopped and stared up at the wall. “Here, the rock is good for climbing.”
“Betah Eian?” Kaemada asked, looking doubtful. Her question needed no translating.
“We will use my shawls to tie him to my back,” Elisabei said. “And Reinan can carry you.”
An excited spark lit in the boy’s brown eyes.
Kaemada protested, but Elisabei cut her off. “You’re in no condition to climb. Be carried or stay here.”
Thankfully, the woman didn’t call her bluff. Kaemada nodded. “Tsífíorse, Reinan. The Collective says they trust you can find a way up. They have seen your memories.”
Reinan’s glare burned like fire, and he became very, very still. Elisabei laid a hand on his arm. Her instincts screamed at her to put distance between them and this woman who knew too much and, apparently, was still connected to the psions that attacked them. The whole situation set her skin to crawling. And yet, she agreed with their assessment. If anyone could get them up the cliff walls, it would be Reinan.
Reinan abruptly lifted Eian and tied him to Elisabei’s back, and Elisabei began to breathe again. Eian laughed and clung delightedly to her shoulders as Elisabei tied Kaemada to her husband’s back with their length of rope. It was humiliating, she was sure, but how else were they all to get up the wall?
Elisabei started the climb, casting a worried look behind her at Reinan. She shook her head to herself and attended to the task before her. He’d better not slip.
The arduous climb was punctuated by Kaemada pointing out the places where previous climbers had fallen, stressing places where they got farther. Reinan went slowly in those areas, avoiding some altogether due to weak stone. Occasionally, they found tiny ledges where they stopped to rest and catch their breath. Elisabei avoided looking down, always keeping a firm hand on the rock wall, even while resting. She couldn’t wait to be back on solid ground. But danger and hardship were no strangers to her—she wasn’t going to let a rock wall beat her, even if her palms were slippery with sweat. Eian, for one, enjoyed himself immensely, and Elisabei had to remind him more than once to stop dancing about in the rope sling for fear he might fall.
Slowly, slowly, bit by bit, they climbed. About halfway up, Kaemada began ducking and clutching at Reinan, nearly causing him to lose his hold on the rocks.
“There’s nothing there,” Elisabei shouted. “Ignore it!”
They continued while Kaemada trembled, her eyes closed, and her head resting on Reinan’s back. The silence was much preferable to the woman’s ominous warnings of dangerous areas, however helpful they were.
They were resting again, about three quarters of the way up the wall, when the sound of singing came to their ears. A male voice muddied the words more often than not, but the tune was familiar. Kaemada straightened, looking around with wide eyes, her expression troubled.
“I hear it, too,” Elisabei said, rubbing arms that felt utterly drained of strength. “The Preparation Song, is it not?”
Kaemada nodded, closing her eyes with a soft smile. Then she frowned. “Why is it being sung here?” Eian translated for her.
Elisabei shook her head. “The question is, what do we do about it? Do we go toward it?”
“It’s not my brother,” Kaemada mused.
>
“They did not seem very interested in our songs six winters ago,” Elisabei said.
Kaemada nodded. “Maybe something has changed?”
Reinan rolled his shoulders and set his hands to the rocks again.
Elisabei sighed. “Might as well, I suppose.”
They angled their approach, using the song as a guide, though their new direction led them through a difficult patch. Somehow they managed to reach the top. Clinging to the rocks, Elisabei peeked over the edge.
A narrow space extended between the chasm and a low wall that rose to about waist height. Beyond the wall, a massive pillar rose to the ceiling, big enough for ten houses in the City of the Lost. No Kamalti were in sight, but the song drifted from somewhere just past the wall. Beyond the pillar, towers of lights illuminated enormous buildings carved right out of the rock walls, with windows decorated by flowing curtains. Sharp-angled metal buildings sat on the side of the ravine, and the street beyond was paved with stone and lit with glowing orbs.
Nodding to the others, she hoisted herself up, keeping low to the ground due to equal parts stealth and fatigue. Reinan crawled up beside her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, they had made it. She undid the knots, setting Kaemada and Eian free of their supports.
“I think it goes like this,” a voice interrupted the singer. They froze. The voice came from beyond the wall as well, continuing with a corrected phrase of the song. The first voice took over, muddling through the song.
Elisabei peeked over the wall. The singer stood with his back to them, raking smooth a circle of sand while beyond him, near the base of the tower, another man stood painting at an easel. Further walls stretched toward the pillar, creating a walled patch of rocky land. The humming man wore only a piece of white cloth wrapped around his waist, while the painter was clad in a gauzy robe trimmed at the edges with intricate embroidery.
“Now we know the way.” Kaemada wilted immediately after speaking, blinking and rubbing her head.
The words were in Traveller’s—it was the Collective speaking. A shiver crawled up Elisabei’s spine.
