by D. H. Dunn
The woman was already beyond her reach, walking into a room filled with Dragons as if anything but death waited for her.
Both heads of Terminus had turned to face Tanira.
Her heart pounding with fear, she could see the beast’s malevolence through the narrow, metal slits in Kater’s Helm. In a moment he would speak, he would send the Voice or himself after her. In that moment all the evil she had set into motion would forever slip from her grasp, untold deaths to add to her legacy.
She would not give the Dragons that chance.
Reaching out to them through the Helm, she could feel the world slowing. She watched the beasts turning and moving as if underwater, their movement coming to a complete halt as she stood in between the beats of time’s heart, taking her last opportunity.
The cool rush of the air inside the Vault blew gently against her face. If she failed, she would never see the movement of leaves within a tree, never feel the wind against her skin again. Never see the sky or feel joy.
As it had before, the mountain of crystal formed in her mind, the many sides and faces of Ish Rav Partha pushing up against a starless night. She saw the Dragons in the facets, turning her attention to them in turn.
The Thread was nearly willing for her control again, placing her will upon it was more of a joining, a weaving of their interests. Only his terror of Terminus held it back, she soothed it despite her own fear. The fate of her control was better, and he acquiesced with minimal complaint.
Gold and whirling, the Voice filled many crystalline slopes of the mountain with its yellow chaos. Its terror of Terminus was barely in check, Tanira offering it the freedom of her control. Freedom to attack without consequence, the offer of an open chamber, waiting to be filled with its cries of violence.
The pink and white flesh that filled the south side of the mountain called to her, the Worm fearful of the light she represented. She sensed its attraction to the safety of Terminus’ shadow. It wailed for the protection the lord of Dragons offered it.
She brought a stern edge to her attention as she focused on the Worm, fashioning iron bars of her will that channeled the Dragon’s soft terror into patterns and mazes of her design, leaving it no option other than the ones she provided.
Finally, she attempted to focus upon Terminus, the mere action bringing waves of nausea to her stomach as her mind’s eye blurred and shifted.
She was aware of her body’s surroundings for a moment, having walked into the circular chamber. The remains of the Weight were on the ground just a few steps away. The Thread and Voice stared at the floor, frozen and unmoving. The twin necks of Terminus twisted as the great body turned to face her, the two heads coming low until they were level with her own.
Four pairs of eyes, each as large as her head, stared into her. The mountain’s form swam and shifted, expanding as new complexities grew into its sides, expanding like weeds.
Terminus confronted her with a new mountain of crystal, five times as vast as the one she had seen before. It was far more intricate, a version of Ish Rav Partha with thousands of fractures and faces, each of them reflecting the great dark Dragon back at her.
She felt something internal fracture along with the mountain, something inside her was breaking from the strain of trying to comprehend the vast array of malevolence cascading in her mind’s eye.
Thoughts were becoming harder to process, the mountain taking on a sharper appearance, each edge of every crystal denying her access and calling for her blood.
She needed to center. Tanira brought her finger to the top of the helm, aware of the cool metal as it made contact with her flesh.
She needed not the vow of the Line, but a new vow.
“I guard this world.”
Her voice resonated in her mind against the mountain of crystal with Terminus’s dark energy rippling within it. It was affected; Terminus cared nothing for guarding, but its thirst for vengeance could be construed as protection, at least of Terminus himself. It was a way in, but the Dragon’s resistance was like a tsunami against her.
“I. . . I honor those I have wronged.”
She thought of the deaths she had caused, hoping to use her crimes like an avalanche, send them down the mountain against Terminus and bury his resistance in her guilt.
In response, the Dragon sent images of his own at her, filling each shard and facet of the mountain with the face of a different one of his victims. Men torn apart without remorse, women crushed underfoot. Whole communities of Manad Vhan and Rakhum alike, swept away for his amusement.
She was staggered by the depth of his malice, it drove her back. The mountain seemed to loom over her, threatening to become her sky and fall upon her. Inside herself, she felt the physical reaction to this onslaught. Cracking, breaking.
Tanira pushed back. She could not fail, must not fail. She had nearly fallen once, but a hand reached out and saved her. Even after her crimes, Nima still trusted her, more than the Line ever had.
“I trust. In my heart.” She forced the words out, throwing herself at the mountain of Terminus. She pushed her faith into every crevice, her hope into each fissure.
Yet for each ray of light she managed to force onto the mountain, the shadows returned with renewed strength. The malice of Terminus beat against her like a dark engine, relentless in its desire for her defeat.
“For I am the. . . I am the . . .”
It was not enough. Her hopes and faith were small compared to the depths of Terminus’s darkness. She sensed her control of the other Dragons faltering. There was a shattering feeling inside her, as if her head was collapsing in on itself.
The images on the mountain shifted, the will of Terminus mining her own memories and displaying them on the side of the mountain, her past now a dagger in her heart.
The feeble truths of her existence covered her like a shroud, a collapsing avalanche made of Dragons and iron will. They fell upon her, crushing her with the simple facts of her inadequacy.
There would be no redemption for her, no forgiveness. The deaths behind her would remain as meaningless as her own. She was ensnared, the water was rising. There would be no escape.
She was not the end of the Line. She was Tanira, and in the end, her remorse would not be enough. She could feel warm tears on her cheeks inside the helm, mixing with the blood that poured from her eyes. She prayed that in the next world, she could look at herself and see a friend.
The world went white, and Tanira’s line ended.
Nima screamed as she saw Tanira collapse. She ran out of the darkened hallway as all the Dragons dropped their heads as well, eyes blinking in some sort of daze. Lhamu stayed behind in the hallway, Nima giving her one quick look to ensure she was safe before running over to Tanira.
The woman’s body was crumpled on the ground, blood seeping from inside the Helm. Nima pulled the metal off Tanira’s head, throwing it aside where it landed with a clang on the stone floor and rolled. Just a few feet away, one of the massive heads of Terminus shook at the sound.
Nima nearly recoiled as she moved the dark, wet mass of Tanira’s hair from the woman’s face. There were black spots all over her cheeks and nose, giving an appearance of frostbite, and her skin was biting cold to the touch.
Her blood was everywhere, coming from her eyes and ears. A spiderweb of fissures ran through the dark skin of her face, as if the Helm had crushed her skull with its power. One crack on her forehead had split the triangle of the Line in two.
Her eyes were lifeless, red masses, her mouth hung open empty of breath or words.
She was gone.
“You stupid idiot!” Nima yelled at Tanira through her tears. She tried to cradle the woman’s head, but it crumbled in her hands, collapsing in on itself like overripe fruit.
“I didn’t even get to tell you!” She sobbed. “That I was so mad at you but. . . but I knew some of it wasn’t your fault. I-we could have found another way! You didn’t have to do this!”
Her vision was blurred by her crying, grief co
ming in waves that was not just for Tanira but for Valaen too. Even for Wanda, and Kad, and herself. For everyone she had loved but couldn’t save.
Her mind refused to process the sounds she heard around her, even as she rocked back and forth, trying to hold Tanira, trying to hold onto this last chance for things to go right.
She heard the sound of the huge Dragon’s breathing getting faster, her fears rising with it. Whatever Tanira’s death had done to daze or startle them, it seemed to be wearing off.
The sound of rasping laughter brought her gaze up, seeing Kater standing over her with the Helm in his hands. Even through the blur of her tears she could see his smile.
“As it should be,” he said, bringing the Helm up to his head. “It falls to me to control the situation. To decide who should be saved, and who should be punished. Finally, I will make all is it should be.”
Chapter 25
“Nima. Are they gone yet?”
Nima ignored Lhamu’s whispered question for a moment, peering out from the hallway into the central chamber. Once Kater had put the helm on she had scampered back there to protect Lhamu, expecting that the old man would fail to master Terminus just as Tanira had.
To her shock, the Dragons including Terminus had fallen under Kater’s control quickly, the old man not even showing a strain.
She had expected him to talk to her, either to boast of his victory or even to have one of the Dragons attack her, but he had quickly climbed onto the back of Terminus and led the group of them out, flying down the long entry hallway and out the huge red doors and into the sky.
“We look for our friends,” Nima said, taking a few steps into the room.
What else could they do?
There was rubble everywhere, as well as the shredded corpse of the Weight, ripped in two and thrown throughout the hall. She took her brown cloak off, not caring about the cold as she covered Tanira’s bloodied body with it, wanting to preserve her dignity as well as shield Lhamu from the sight.
She allowed one more sigh as she took Lhamu’s hand and they began walking delicately around the many boulders and rubble from the ceiling. Tanira’s death was too angering to dwell on, she needed to find out if the others were all right.
Nima was only a few steps into the hallway when she heard a familiar grunt, a hand pushing stone out of its way as it pushed up from a deep crater in the floor.
“Drew!” Nima ran forward, her friend slowly crawling out of a large hole that had been burrowed in the center of the hallway. She ran toward the edge of the crater, putting out one hand, which Drew clasped weakly.
“Thank you,” he said, his breathing labored. He had several cuts and bruises on his face and he was damp with perspiration. “Thanks, little sister. I thought we were all goners there.”
On the opposite wall of the hole, she saw Upala struggling to climb out as well. With a nod from Nima, Lhamu rushed to the other side to give the woman assistance. Nima helped Drew onto the stone floor of the hallway, pushing away debris so he could lie down. His hands immediately went to his side where the Thread had injured him on the bridge.
Leaving Drew on the stone to recover, Nima ran over to the form of white fur she could see lying under some of the rubble. The Speaker’s large paw clenched and unclenched as it grasped the stone. As she got closer she saw both of the Yeti’s legs were free, but its back and head were pinned under a large section of the ceiling.
She grabbed the bottom of the stone, knowing she couldn’t lift it but unsure of what else to do. She grunted, surprised when a deep voice came weakly from under the rock.
“Arrived, you cannot,” he paused to cough, the sound reminding Nima of a cat that once lived on their farm. “You cannot move that. If I may have water?”
Nima remembered the small canteen still tied to her belt. She pulled the nearly empty vessel, a few drops of water still sloshing around inside. Sliding it under the rock, the Speaker’s large paw gripped it and took it from her. She listened as he emptied the bottle.
“I would stand back, please,” he said. Nima scurried away quickly, preparing for the massive Yeti to lift the stone slab off himself. Instead there was a puff of lavender smoke and the ceiling section fell to the hallway floor with a massive crash.
The Speaker’s form appeared a few feet away from Nima, lying down as if he had been there all along. He had a large wound on one side of his chest, but it did not impair him from sitting up.
“I am well, Arrived,” he said. “More well than the Altered. You should tend to him.”
Nima couldn’t remember who Altered was supposed to be, but she was glad the Yeti wasn’t more badly injured. She ran back to Drew, kneeling alongside him as he was trying to sit up. Nima scooted her legs underneath his neck, gently forcing his head back down onto her lap.
“We heard some of what happened,” he said. She dabbed at his forehead with her cloak, trying to wipe away some of the sweat and blood. “Is there any chance Tanira-”
“No,” Nima said, shaking her head. “She’s gone.”
“I thought so.” His face showed her he understood, because Drew always seemed to understand her. “I know it was complicated between you, but it sounds like she tried to do what was right in the end.”
“For all the good it did, yeah. She tried.” She shuddered as she thought of Tanira, her skull crumbling in her hands. Destroyed by the strain. “Now Kater has the helm.”
“As bad as that sounds,” Drew said, propping up on one elbow with a grunt, “and it’s bad, it might have been worse. If not for Tanira and Kater I’m pretty sure those Dragons would have taken us all down. At least they are on someone’s leash. Maybe Upala can reason with him.”
Upala walked over, kneeled beside Drew and kissed him lightly. She appeared less injured than him, though she still bore a few cuts and bruises.
“I wish that were true,” Upala said with a heavy sigh. “My brother, he has never really listened to me or to anyone. Beyond his boasts I am unsure of what he even intends to do.”
“I doubt it will be good for the Rakhum down there,” Drew said. “They created the Line, with people from both Rogek Shad and Nalam Wast. Kater mentioned people being punished.”
Nima thought back to her talk with Kater as they climbed Ish Kalum, his views on what constituted a hero and that it mostly involved winning. In Kater’s mind, the hero wrote the story. She stood, looking out toward the door the led back to Ish Rav Partha.
What would Kater do with the power of Terminus and the other Dragons behind him?
“Well, we’ve got to go stop him,” Nima said. She turned to face the others. They looked back at her with tired eyes, wounded expressions. “Right? We’ve got to make this right.”
“Yeah, you’re right, little sister, but. . . It’s the how. It’s not really clear to me how we do that. We gave this our best shot, and that was just against Tanira.”
Nima looked down, remembering her view of Tanira’s blotched and bloodied face, her mind shattered by the strain of trying to control Terminus.
Drew sat up, taking Nima’s hand.
“Look, I’m sorry. Just . . . we can’t go rushing off here. We have to think this through, make a good plan. I don’t want to see anyone else getting hurt.”
“Like Merin?” Nima asked, her frustration growing. Drew always wanted to keep everyone safe. “Like her children? Trillip? None of them know what we do, and none of them can do what you two can.” She pointed at Drew and Upala, then nodded toward the Yeti. “Or him. Do you think Kater is going to forget about the Yeti, Speaker? Or if he loses control, do you think that Terminus monster is going to allow anyone to live?”
“Nima,” Upala said, her palm rubbing her forehead as she looked around the chamber, as if answers might be written on the stone walls. “Of course we have to help, it is just… going down there without a plan would be handing victory to Kater or the Dragons. Whoever we face, we have to be ready. You are not wrong, but we are all hurt. Injured. Exhausted.”
Nima walked away from the group, headed toward the open doors. She understood how the others felt, they were hurt and had lost hope. She didn’t blame them, but that didn’t change what she needed to do. Even if she had to do it alone.
“Well, we can’t just stay here,” she said to the cold air. “I can’t just stay here.” She looked out at the sun, heading lower in the sky. At this height, she’d be lucky to descend Ish Rav Partha by nightfall. Rogek Shad sat right at the foot of the mountain, for all the help Nima might be. What could she expect to do?
More than I can do here, she reminded herself. Nima took a step forward, only to feel a hand on her shoulder.
“You were not going without me?” Lhamu asked. “There are people there who need help, and we’re going to help them, right?”
“We are going to help them,” Drew said. “We’ll figure it out.” He had pulled himself to his feet and limped over, his arm around Upala’s shoulders for support.
The Speaker walked behind them, a white wall of fur. Even his face seemed to wear an expression of determination.
“If you aim to descend the mountain, I have recovered my strength,” the Speaker said, crystals on his back glowing through his fur. “If you further aim to oppose the Trusted and the Dragons, you will find me at your side.”
“I do not know what aid we can offer,” Upala added. “Any of us, against such power and darkness. Yet, as you remind me Nima, we cannot stay here. Here we will help no one.”
“When people need help, you help them,” Lhamu said, smiling. “That’s what good people do.”
Nima laughed. The sound felt good, the sudden feeling of joy in defiance of the dark prospects ahead of them. Drew chuckled, putting his free arm around her. Lhamu looked between the two of them and giggled.
