“Van, what are you doing?” Fieta cried.
“I need to get a sample from the side.” She scooted farther, forcing herself not to look down. She could be brave if it meant…
Her body jerked, and she yelped, but it was only Fieta kneeling on her legs. “Be careful, curse it!” Fieta said.
“Let us do it,” Pietyr said. “Our arms are longer.” They pulled Vandra back, and she yelped again, trying to protest when Fieta lay along the pylon, head dangling over the edge while Pietyr held her legs.
“What am I doing?” Fieta called.
Vandra handed down her knife. “Take some scrapings!”
“That’ll ruin this knife,” Fieta said.
“The gods take the knife! I need samples.”
Mumbling, Fieta obeyed. They repeated the process several times along different levels of the pylon, Vandra making a note of each location. When she was on the ground again, she performed several tests before sitting back on her heels.
“It’s trickery. Paint mixed with some phosphorescent compound!” Vandra was tempted to fling the mortar into the tattered lands. “Who would do such a thing?”
“So, someone did replace the pylon?” Pietyr asked.
“More likely, they did something to make this pylon inert then painted it to look like it was still functioning,” Vandra said. “The question is, how and why?”
Fieta shivered and looked toward the tattered lands again. “This close, I can feel it. Like a pit opening in my stomach.”
“And smell it,” Pietyr said. “It’s like rotten trees. Or a swamp.”
Vandra nodded. Now that they’d pointed it out, she was aware of a creeping sense of dread and a foul smell. She’d been too absorbed by what she wasn’t feeling from the pylon to notice before. Could the very proximity of the tattered lands have sapped the syndrium out of the pylon? But then who had painted it? The well-meaning government of Citran trying not to cause a panic? Wouldn’t Ariadne have warned her of that?
She looked into the tattered lands again. The mist seemed to roil in places as if straining to get out. The dead ground between here and there was pockmarked by holes and the remains of trees. Vandra’s eye was drawn to a plot of turned earth. She’d glimpsed it from above but had dismissed it. This close, she noticed that the soil was darker than the baked-looking dirt around it.
She pointed. “Someone’s been digging. Recently.”
They all exchanged a look. To see what it was, they’d have to walk beyond the border, closer to the drifting, hungry mist.
Chapter Six
Vandra stared toward the recently dug earth before glancing at the wall of moving mist. “I have to see what’s out there.”
Fieta shook her head. “We shouldn’t.”
“I didn’t come all this way to go home empty-handed.”
“It could be nothing.” Pietyr watched the mist. They all did, scanning for the twisted creatures said to live inside. Nothing moved; nothing called out. The only sound was the wind sighing around the pylon. Maybe the denizens of the tattered lands didn’t need to communicate with each other, but the stories spoke of unholy cries in the mist-shrouded darkness.
Vandra swallowed and tried to sound more confident than she felt. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She retrieved her syndrium detector, her gloves, and a few specimen jars. With a shaky hand, she noted the relative position of the disturbed earth in her journal.
Then all she had to do was walk out there.
At the edge of the dead grass, she paused, breathing deep. Now or never. When she stepped forward, the twins went with her, weapons out. She wanted to reassure them that the neighboring pylon was keeping the tattered lands back, but she didn’t know that.
Vandra tried her detector, but it didn’t point toward the patch of disturbed soil. She slipped it into a pocket of her jacket and wiped her sweaty hands on her trousers. She knew they should be hurrying, but they took careful steps, the dry, brittle grass crunching under their feet. If something was prowling inside the mist, maybe it wouldn’t notice them if they were quiet.
She tried not to remember all the stories she’d read, those about mutated creatures and plants, but her mind kept going back to one journal in particular that spoke of a creature with teeth all over its body and no eyes. The author thought it might have been a bear once, but she couldn’t say for certain. How could someone mistake a bear?
Vandra bit her lip to stop thinking about mutant bears. She took a deep breath and kept going.
They reached the overturned earth at last. Up close, it didn’t seem carefully dug, more like someone had pried up a lump of turf with their foot. Vandra fumbled into her heavy gloves. “Get ready to run.”
The twins tensed. Good. She couldn’t be sure what she’d find. Any number of elements and chemicals were volatile—who would leave such things casually in a hole?—or there could be a buildup of gas. The twins each put a hand near her shoulders, ready to pull her away; they wouldn’t be badgered into thinking of their own lives first. A sweet thought, though their parents would blame her if any of them were hurt.
She paused. Her brother and sister might be hurt. Maybe she should say she loved them? With another breath, she told herself to stop being silly. Nothing was going to explode, and the hole wasn’t covering a mutant bear. If this blasted land had any gods left, they were probably laughing at her.
Vandra gently turned the soil and spotted a glint of metal. Slightly dull, it might have been specks of lead. She used her pencil to nudge a few of them into a specimen jar. Several smells drifted up from the soil, and she took multiple samples of dirt that was nearly the color of clay. Interesting. She took off one glove and got her journal out, wanting to make a small drawing and note where she’d taken the samples.
“Van.” Pietyr’s whisper made her remember where they were. Twenty meters ahead, the mist billowed, agitated.
Vandra put her journal away, but as she began to stand, she saw a thin piece of metal poking out of the dirt. When she prodded it with her boot, it came loose, about half the size of her palm. She put her glove back on and reached for it as a ray of sunlight struck it. A sickening tingle went up Vandra’s arm, setting her teeth on edge. She paused, queasy, and shuddered as if invisible oil was sliding over her skin.
“What is that?” the twins asked at the same time.
Vandra shook her head and forced herself to reach for the metal again.
A howl went up from the mist, an unearthly shriek that rattled Vandra’s bones. With a cry, she froze. The twins wrenched on her shoulders, hauling her toward the pylon.
“No! I have to get that metal!”
The mist parted, and she caught a glimpse of…something: a bit of fur, rent and torn, dripping blood, and a mouth so large she could have crawled inside. It snapped out of the mist then darted back again.
Vandra’s mouth went dry. There were still gods in this land, but they were as twisted and terrible as everything else. Still, she had to get that metal. She tried to plant her feet. “Wait, wait!”
The twins pulled harder as the thing dashed into view again. It weaved in and out of the mist, managing to come closer to them each time before the magic of the pylons pushed it back. She had to get that piece of metal before it broke free. She needed a clue. Her feet left furrows in the dirt as the twins dragged her. “I can get it, but I have to go now!” With a final twist that wrenched her shoulders, she broke free. The tattered thing shrieked again, still nothing more than a blood-covered ball of fur. The twins cried out for Vandra to run.
In one gloved hand, Vandra scooped up the metal. The tattered thing lunged, wide mouth gaping, and rows of needle-like teeth straining forward. Again she froze, hypnotized by that cavernous maw, the writhing purple tongue. Deep in the back of its throat, she saw what looked like a tiny face. Part of it, or something it had just eaten?
Vandra screamed. Cramps wracked her body, and the tattered thing roared as if it sensed weakness. Hot, foul breath washed over her.<
br />
She was going to die.
Fieta’s spear streaked past, cutting a line across the tattered thing’s jaw. It reared back, squealing as it turned for the protective mist. The world spun as Pietyr hauled Vandra over his shoulders. She cried out again. “Fieta! We can’t leave her!”
Pietyr ran, and Vandra tried to push up on his shoulder, searching for her sister. Fieta grabbed her spear and ran after them. A wave of relief washed over Vandra, and her vision faded in and out. When Pietyr passed the pylon, not stopping for her pack, she yelled, “Wait!”
He didn’t even slow. Jerking and bouncing on his shoulder, Vandra didn’t know whether to hold on or try to stop him. Fieta scooped up Vandra’s instruments without care, stuffing them in the pack.
They’d gone well down the road before Pietyr finally stopped. After lowering Vandra, he leaned on his knees and breathed hard, glaring.
“I needed the metal.” She wanted to feel grateful, but there were too many emotions fighting for supremacy: fear, anger, relief, fear again. She decided to focus on anger. Anger could get things done. It could fight through the waves of nausea coming from the metal in her jacket pocket.
Fieta dumped Vandra’s bulging pack on the ground and gasped for breath.
“Careful!” Vandra opened her pack and pulled out a lead-lined box. Still wearing her gloves, she dropped the metal inside, dampening its odious presence to a dull, annoying feeling, like a mosquito whining in her ear.
“You could have been killed!” Fieta said.
Vandra ignored her as she took off her gloves and unloaded the pack. She reached into her other pocket and heard a tinkle; one of her sample bottles had broken. Trying not to curse, she took off her jacket and emptied the pocket over a handkerchief. The soil sample had been contaminated by broken glass, but maybe she could do something with it.
Her hands shook as she went through the pack. She willed them to stop. She had work to do. She did not have time to think about…
Reeking breath and the teeth, and oh gods, that tiny face!
“Hope everything isn’t broken,” she muttered.
“We just escaped death, and that’s what you’re worried about?” Fieta yelled.
“Fieta—” Pietyr started.
Fieta waved him off. “Saving the pylon isn’t worth your life, Van!”
“Yes, it is!” Vandra jumped up and reared toward her sister’s face. “It’s worth all our lives!” She was yelling, the aggravation of her recent failures mixing with terror and fatigue and worry until her insides felt like a knotted chain. “If the pylons fail, we die! Everyone dies! Mama and Papa, little Sita…”
Anger clouded her vision, or maybe it was tears. Gods, now she was so angry she was crying like a child throwing a fit, but the tears wouldn’t stop, rolling down her cheeks even as she shouted. “I have to stop it!” She pressed her hand against her mouth. With her formula, she could have helped, but she’d failed. Even with that failure, humanity would survive, but now there was more at stake than making people’s lives easier; if she failed in fixing the pylons, she’d be killing every human left in the world.
“They’ll all die,” she said between sobs.
The twins’ arms went around her, but she didn’t want their comfort, didn’t deserve it. She shrugged out of their embrace and went back to packing, trying to be careful, but the rotten tears kept blinding her. She hated that she had to keep sniffling, but her handkerchief was full of dirt and broken glass. Where in the gods’ names was her canvas sheet? Nothing was where it was supposed to be. Her set of scoops were bent. The acid wasn’t in its place next to the bicarbonate of soda. Did her sister want the pack to melt?
And why in the names of all gods, large and small, had that thing had a face in the back of its mouth?
Pietyr knelt beside her. “Van, you cut your hand.”
She hadn’t even noticed the sting. A line of blood dribbled across her knuckles. Not deep, but it oozed. She shook her head. “I have to repack.”
He offered his handkerchief. “You know how important it is to clean a cut, especially after digging through your bag.”
Yes, she’d taught him that. He poured water over the cut, and she wrapped the handkerchief around her hand. The kindness on his face shamed her.
The tears flowed again, and she wanted to say she was sorry, but all that came out was, “I have to save the world, and I can’t even protect my hand.” It was stupid, but she felt very stupid at the moment. When the twins held her again, she let them. She rested her head against Pietyr’s chest. Fieta left off hugging them and repacked Vandra’s bag very carefully, stowing the heavier things on the bottom as Vandra had taught her.
“Thank you,” Vandra said softly.
Fieta smiled. Her eyes seemed a little misty, too. Vandra felt as if her whole face was on fire. She hated crying, never mind sobbing.
“Sorry I yelled at you,” Fieta said, the words rushed together and nearly inaudible.
“Me, too,” Vandra said.
Pietyr helped her stand. After a deep breath, Vandra looked toward the pylon, to the line of mist in the distance. She would be brave. She had to be.
Fieta stood, arms crossed. “Well, at least I can say I stabbed something from the tattered lands. I’ll be the toast of the Watch.”
Vandra barked a laugh but brought it under control quickly, worried it might turn into another sob. She couldn’t have that, not after she’d decided to be brave.
* * *
Lilani could scarcely believe what she’d seen. The humans had crawled over the pylon, but by their reactions, it wasn’t telling them what they wanted to know. Even from a distance, the pylon should have been humming in Lilani’s brain, the feel of it tingling her skin, but she felt nothing. It seemed…dead, even more lifeless than regular stone. And she didn’t need to see the mist to feel the taint of the tattered lands creeping toward her with ugly fingers.
“Well,” Faelyn said, “we can tell your mother she was right about this pylon. If the others fail, the tattered lands will be past here in a heartbeat.”
“We can’t let that happen,” Lilani said. “And not just for the humans. How could we live next to this feeling for the rest of our lives?”
He shook his head. “There’s a reason we fled south when the neighboring human lands were engulfed. Even being close to the tattered lands feels as if the sun will never shine again. Right next to them, we’d have to tiptoe through life as if our home was made of thorns.” He sighed. “Your mother knows that.”
“She wants us to build pylons of our own,” Lilani said.
“That might not be enough.”
When they glanced at each other, she knew he felt the same way she did. Hopefully, his voice added to hers would be enough to sway Lilani’s mother.
Lilani watched the humans again, and when they risked being attacked by a denizen of the tattered lands to retrieve something from a field, Lilani nearly ran to help, but Faelyn grabbed her.
“I will sit on you if I have to!” he said.
Her heart hammering, Lilani watched the trio’s narrow escape, eyes locked on Vandra. When the warriors carried her away, Lilani wanted to cheer. What in the name of the elders could be so important that she’d risk being devoured by that…thing?
Lilani and Faelyn shrouded as the humans ran past. Even in the distance, Lilani could feel something wrong about them, as if one of them carried a piece of the tattered lands with them.
“Do you feel that?” she asked.
He nodded, and when she followed the humans, he didn’t argue and seemed as intrigued as she was. When the humans stopped to first yell, then weep, then hug one another, Lilani pressed a hand to her chest, feeling for them and their narrow escape.
“They certainly are…noisy,” Faelyn said.
They were perfect, but she didn’t dare say so. No seelie went through emotions so quickly, but the display fascinated her. They were more like the water than she’d thought.
Vandra had
taken something from her pocket, and that feeling of uneasiness surged through Lilani’s veins until Vandra put the thing in a box. Then the very air felt lighter.
“It looked like a bit of metal,” Faelyn said as he craned his neck. “Why would they want a souvenir from the tattered lands?”
Lilani glanced north. She couldn’t see the pylon through the trees, but she felt the lack of it. Whatever Vandra had taken, it hadn’t brought the pylon back to life. Now Vandra seemed intent on carrying the tainted metal deeper into human territory. Lilani would have argued for her to throw it as far into the mist as she could. “How can they stand being so close to it?”
Faelyn shrugged. “They’re probably desperate to study it in order to fix the pylon. We need to tell the empress.”
“You go. I’ll watch them.”
He ran a hand down his face. “Are you going to make me go through my entire argument again?”
“No, that’s a song I know by heart.” She sighed. “Are you going to make me repeat all the reasons we should watch them until they’re gone from our borders?”
He frowned so hard, she was tempted to chuckle. “I’ll only watch!” she added. “And I’ll run if they bring out that…device again. I have to make sure they don’t leave that piece of metal here.”
“Will you rush to their rescue if they need you?”
She knew the answer was yes. He had to know that, too, but she kept her face very calm as she said, “I will take every precaution.”
“That’s not a no!” He seemed torn, but she’d already proven he couldn’t stop her. No matter what he said, he wasn’t strong enough to hold her down, and she could shroud if he tried.
And by the myriad of expressions crossing his face, he knew she was right to stay. Neither of them wanted to let that tainted metal out of their sight.
She patted his shoulder. “One of us needs to stay,” she said, “and one needs to go, and I won’t go. Therefore…”
The Tattered Lands Page 7
