by Russ Linton
"Master! Thank Vasheru!" He tried to sit up, but a taut line of pain between his shoulders anchored him to the stone.
Hands emerged from the sleeves, pudgy and paler than the dingy stole. They withdrew the hood and Sidge couldn't make sense of what he saw.
It was as though each of his lenses captured a different face. Young and old, male and female, human and Ek'kiru. Crystalline forms of the Urujaav swam there. The pale Ksijaav he'd only heard of from Kaaliya and beings of fire, their faces flickering with heat. Izhar rested there. Sidge picked him out like a familiar star amid a constellation. Eyes closed, his Master had peace.
Then the faces twisted like raw dough wrung between fists. They became one amorphous blob with their eyes coalescing into a band under a rust-colored chitin plate. This was the same loathsome face he'd sat across from with a tea service of blood. Stunted mandibles twitched beside the beast's mouth and the vibration seized Sidge once more.
Sli'mir's vengeance will be had. The Mighty Dragon will roam free. Death will reign until all of the wicked are punished for what they have done. Man will fall from their throne, stolen from the Master of the Sun Palace, Kurath.
Part of that threat, the return of Kurath, he'd been trained all his life how to respond to. And he knew he could never bow to Sli'mir. Sidge answered with defiance.
"We will never submit to Kurath and never to the barbarians of the marsh."
Kurath? The shifting visage beneath the hood stretched toward him, and he knew what it was like to be regarded by the thousand eyes of a god. How dare you speak the name!
Alshasra'a, the Formless, struck. Robes grasped Sidge and tore him from the stone. Flung skyward, he caught a glimpse of the tendril of water on which they rode upward, high into the air. They careened downward, away from the pool and loose rock shattered underneath him.
Gray robes enveloped Sidge in a tangle of recognizable limbs and unrecognizable appendages. He'd been thrust into the scree with Izhar's shriveled body lying beside him. Sidge tried to rebuild the familiar face around skin stretched tight against the skull.
"No!"
Feel it! Know my pain when I see this place where Kurath fell. Where his body shattered and his first children were slaughtered. My beloved Kurath, lost to all time.
They drew into the sky, and Sidge watched Izhar's form melt away, his robes becoming one with the monochromatic mound of shale. Countless more dotted the valley. Children, slaughtered. The shards hadn't been neatly swept into clumps. They'd died on those spots. Khasmin and their Master, defeated for all time.
Lies. The mantras had been lies. He'd led his father to his death for nothing.
Sidge felt numb in the grip of Alshasra'a. It was as though he floated outside his body. Below, Chuman formed a blemish on the banks of the pool.
Decide, Old Blood. The Timeless Age or the Age of Death. The Age of Man.
Sidge had but one answer. "I choose death."
The moon raced across the sky and the sun rose triumphant over the spires of Pama. Alshasra'a engulfed him. Sidge felt the pain subside and become a persistent lament like the mystical songs. They fell downward, back into the pool. As water washed over him, something closed his eyes, and he thanked Vasheru for ending his misery.
CHAPTER XXXII
They sailed through darkness, the sky a narrow, blinding band. Every face turned to the heavens. A rain of granite chips had begun. The crew hawkishly watched the swirling murk where ship-crushing rocks waited.
No one spoke.
Talemok stood at the ready, they'd somehow made it to the furthest edge where the rock face pierced the cloud. The height couldn't be reckoned with any precision. The further they sailed underneath, the more cramped the space felt, the closer the sky, but Kaaliya knew that to be an illusion.
She turned to Firetongue. "How does he know he can make it?"
"He doesn't," she replied. "But to leap, to almost fly, this is his gift. This is what he can bring to our work here so he will do it, without question."
Since her stunt on the mainsail, the Matron had remained aloof. Her sharp, almost playful demeanor had been worn down and left only with the edge intact.
Wings fluttered like dry leaves. She couldn't follow Talemok's arc as his diminishing form disappeared into the dark wedge of stone. The rope he held continued to uncoil with a desperate whisk for what seemed longer than it should and then it uncoiled more. It finally stopped and the two Ek'kiru minding the unspooled end stepped away to view each other and the taut length anchored to the deck behind them.
They waited an eternity. The narrow band of sunlight to the east eerily darkened and the west turned golden as the setting sun descended, half-lidded. Cloud and rock obscured all else.
The rope jerked and began to shake. The crew, who'd gathered to watch, involuntarily retreated. All except Firetongue who moved to wait at the halyard where it was secured.
Talemok slid into view, gliding hand over hand to the deck.
"What news?" called Baladeva.
"More rock. Slick, dangerous to climb," said Talemok. "There is a great chain leading into the clouds. We may be able to cross there."
"Where does it lead?" Nanda asked from over Baladeva's shoulder.
Talemok only shrugged.
"The ends of the earth," said Kaaliya.
Firetongue began to climb.
***
Below, the ship was a toy in a pond. Firetongue had long disappeared. The rope, which held taut at the halyard, swayed violently the closer they got to the center arc. A strong wind, not present at the surface, whipped Kaaliya's wet clothes and hair against her skin.
The hum was louder, and she felt she could pick out a definite note, full and rich. So low in the register the mantra played down the rope like a struck chord. The subtle vibrations pooling around her hips were quickly turning the climb into an exercise in sadomasochism—an awkward distraction she didn't need.
Talemok, climbing backwards ahead of her, stretched out a hand and she accepted. The Ek'kiru gripped the rope with his remaining five limbs and fired his wings in short bursts as he balanced. She'd thought enough to wear gloves, but the palms were already worn thin. She'd changed into her leathers but regardless of the precaution, her inner thighs would be red and raw by the time she summited. She'd kept her pack light, taking only a few provisions and little equipment. Her knife, she wore at her waist.
"How did you make it up here?" she yelled.
"I can't explain," shouted Talemok. "When I thought my leap had made its peak, I reached the clouds and…became them."
"Good to know," she muttered. Had Ek'kiru any interest in Puffcap?
Kaaliya scooted up the rope as he drew forward. She sensed his attention shifting though his mandibles faced her.
"We're almost to the clouds," he yelled above the wind and resonance. He placed her hand back on the rope and deftly pivoted to face upward. "You may lose sight of me so stay as close as possible."
"I plan to." Assuming she didn't fall first—half-afraid, half-aroused and fully dead.
They continued their ascent, and the cloud wrapped them like smoke from damp firewood. Her gloves wouldn't last much longer. Nor would her arms.
"Eyes up!" shouted Talemok.
A rock the size of her fist punctured the cloud and plummeted past. She tracked it, losing sight long before it hit the water. She worried the stone might have fallen onto the deck, but the sailors on board were tiny specks. She'd never know if one them had dropped with the missile embedded in his skull.
Talemok appeared out of the fog and scuttled over her, wrapping around her body. She glanced up, and he tucked his head protectively and braced himself.
Baladeva had said he could believe the sounds of the splitting rock were the voices of hell. Hell, heaven—Kaaliya heard a noise which rattled them both and knew one of the two had aimed for her but not which one. Deafened and pummeled by the noise, all sense and reason left her.
A wall of rock rushed by.
&
nbsp; Kaaliya felt as if she were falling, upward, along the face of a mountain. Wind thrashed against them, and the rope flung outward. She clung tight, thankful for the added support of the Ek'kiru's armored grip.
The mass left a hole in the clouds. She waited for the boulder to shrink like the boat had as they climbed but it stayed large and monstrous, descending toward the sea.
When it struck, she saw water plume far off the Night Cutter's bow. A near miss. Her sigh of relief caught in her throat as the ship leapt upward.
"Baladeva!" she screamed.
The junk crashed down on the sea with the masts flat against foam-capped waves. A chain of bodies dangled overboard. Earth-colored Ek'kiru flickered distinctly in the surging froth.
Talemok slipped to her front side. He pressed his eyes against her forehead until she drew away from the horror of the ill-fated crew.
"Kaaliya, we must hurry!"
She let the brutal practicality of his plea free her limbs. Hand over hand, she started into the dense cloud. The window left by the boulder shuttered. Talemok scurried ahead.
Higher up and Kaaliya lost all visibility. A wave broke along the rope signaling the fading end of a death spasm.
She'd pushed beyond the burning in her muscles into a numbness that would unravel her strength if she stopped for too long. She sought out a sanctuary she'd created for herself in her days in the Pit. A precipice where she could balance and stare into emptiness.
After this journey, that old sanctuary offered her no solace.
Her right glove split. She tried to keep the flap of leather across her palm. Threads strayed from the damp rope's edges.
In her mind, she attempted to rebuild the Night Cutter. The cabin, his own sanctuary, re-formed from the wreckage she'd last seen through the clouds. She could see the Captain and Nanda entwined atop the pillows and rugs.
His place of solace hadn't been an empty pit.
She'd been so relaxed when they spoke there. A man she found comfort with like the awkward bugman or her childhood friend Shailen, and even blind Old Jai. Very few men had ever given her that.
Chakor came close, though turmoil surrounded him both in his life and in her thoughts. He clung to her too much. A survivor of her tempest which she kept in constant motion, always moving away.
A stiff breeze swept her further out, and she pulled tight, preparing for the erratic twisting which followed. At the highest point, she swung back so violently the rope threatened to tear from her grip. Fatigued muscles screamed. Deep in the clouds, her climb lost its orientation. No haven below. No precipice above. She closed her eyes until the rope steadied and she thought again of surrender.
Hands enclosed hers. Talemok or maybe Firetongue. They gently pulled, and she forged into the cloud. Others joined the climb with more limbs than both Ek'kiru could offer. She could feel the rope but not see it. Her heart pounded against her gathered fists.
Solid white became a gauzy film over a reddish sky. Wildly, she looked on all sides to see who or what had carried her. There was nothing, only the clouds.
Wings buzzed, descending toward her, and the rope jostled.
"How are you doing?"
Kaaliya found herself nose to nose with Talemok. She shut her eyes again and tried to slow her racing pulse. "We need to descend. Find out what happened."
"We can't."
"To the hells, we can't, Tal."
"Hold tightly." The line vibrated, and Talemok fell into the mist. Air flickered off his wings, fanning her from head to toe and he landed gingerly on the rope underneath her.
"You will never make it. I will climb behind you."
The truth stung. "I can take care of myself."
Talemok tilted his head, gazing at her with his top lenses, his antennae quirked, one low, the other higher. He flicked his wings as if to display them.
"Show off."
Maybe he couldn't fully fly, but he could glide. He at least might not hit the water and shatter his body with the impact. Recalling each span of the climb, she knew at this point, a controlled descent would be impossible.
"Fine."
Her hands pulled in powerful strokes. Her legs cleared her waist with each length gained. Thinking through the loss and the incompetence of those who'd sent them began to fuel her. Even if anyone had survived on the ship, there would be no rescue. The Attarah wouldn't bother with another expedition. He'd use the lost ship as a way to shed doubt on Chakor and advance their petty squabbles. That's the way it had been set up, and she had accepted it willingly, never dwelling on the consequences.
"Are you okay?"
She'd stopped, feet hooked around the rope. Wordless, she returned to climbing, focusing on technique, on breathing, but her mind continued to stray.
She'd set him up, and Chakor had willingly submitted. He'd done much for her. But surrounded by the comforts of an illusion he'd crafted, he wouldn't have dreamed of coming with her. Then again, he knew her all too well. Maybe like a lost boy from her past, he'd follow when she didn't return. Even then, he'd arrive much too late.
Tears began to stream down her cheeks. Chakor would never know what had happened to her. Nor would any of her other misguided clients care. Although, there was Sidge. If he ever found out, something told her the quirky bugman would find her. He'd sit in rapt attention, his lenses full of her, listening to her tell the story of a most unfortunate adventure. She wished he were here.
That bastard had wings.
Kaaliya continued to climb, inching her way out of the dark.
CHAPTER XXXIII
Kaaliya collapsed on the flat outcropping, an altar, her spent form the sacrifice. She'd climbed to survive but felt dead, every limb useless. Another rockfall and she'd barely be able to crack an eyelid to watch it crush her.
How far had their ascent been? Farther than any length of rope. She opened her eyes enough to let the light seep in. Talemok sat on the ledge. She wanted to join him, dangle her feet in the clouds, and shout her triumph to the mountains, but her muscles refused to answer.
"I'm going to ask again, how in the twelve thousand mantras did you ever get up here?" she called. The Ek'kiru didn't answer immediately so she pressed. "None of that 'becoming the clouds' bullshit." She'd experienced it but didn't want to believe. "The weight of the rope alone should've dragged you down. Tying it off should've been impossible."
The final word earned an answer. "Yes, none of this is possible."
She gave in and turned her head enough to examine the ledge. He'd tied the rope to an object which, in the drunkenness of fatigue, she'd hoped she'd imagined. Like the rope and the climb, she had no explanation for it.
A treestone megalith impaled the ledge. One solid piece, it was a column carved top to bottom with Jadugar runes. The outer bark had been removed and the dusky opalescence beneath chiseled with the same symbols.
Wrapped around the megalith was a chain which spanned the chasm. The first link rose nearly to her chest. Their climbing rope clung to this like a wad of withered grass.
She ignored the complaints from her worn out limbs. Nothing she hadn't done before, though this was a deep fatigue, beyond scaling the wall at Stronghold, riding cross country, or whoring herself to aggressive clients. She almost stooped as she made her way to sit beside Talemok and swing her feet over the edge.
Seated by the chain, the individual links stretching over the chasm weren't readily discernible. They rounded across the gap like dunes of metal. Cloud pooled around the mountains on all sides. They still heard the low rumbling mantra, but it was quieter than it had been.
Beyond the clouds stretched the lonely sea. Talemok said nothing, his onyx eyes reflecting the setting sun. She started to ask what he saw, but he raised a middle palm to silence her, so she waited.
She'd seen the sun rise and set many times in her travels: light firing rays through a prison of clouds over the Padmini, the late, empty burn of a day's first light in the Pit, sun igniting the auras of naked slabs of treestone scatte
red across the skyline of Stronghold. This vista was singularly unique. A purple swath, both day and night, fed into the pale orb of the sun waiting to dip beneath the waves. A golden band rode the water stretching as far as the eye could see. On the opposite side rested the moon, bright and full.
She waited longer to be sure.
"It doesn't change."
Talemok nodded. "I don't know how I made it here. Nor do I know where here is."
She arched back on stiff arms and began identifying routes up the rock face. A path she hadn't seen earlier wound down from above. She flexed her legs, trying to loosen the stiff muscles.
"Have you seen any sign of Firetongue?"
Talemok shook his head.
Kaaliya continued taking in the surroundings and stretching until her muscles loosened. Even though the deep rumbling mantra sounded further away than it had during the climb, she could swear it was progressively getting louder.
Talemok sat with legs folded under him at impossible angles. He could have been meditating except for his antennae, which snaked and twitched, stroking each other in nervous fits.
"Anything wrong?" she asked.
"That sound. I feel like my insides are spinning. You?"
"I think it's getting louder. I can't say I feel it in any way."
She'd had this conversation before. She didn't feel the mantra or song at Stronghold as Sidge had or their strange companion, Chuman. All she felt right now was pain. She looked at the shredded gloves and her palms beneath. Instead of battered skin which had been smoothed and softened by hot baths, she saw rough callouses, dark with age.
She'd climbed her way up with them, true, though they'd very nearly betrayed her. Courtesans didn't cultivate calloused hands. But if she had to say why she'd been able to convince so many men to ignore their rough surface in the beginning, it had been precisely because of the strength they displayed. She knew when to be meek and when to be fierce, because men did want that, no matter what the Rule might say.
