The Hanging Mountains

by Sean Williams

  “They seemed restless to us all week, forgetful and incommunicative,” she told Griel. “We didn't realise they were settling in, that from their point of view they had only just arrived. They didn't know who we were, and yet we knew them…”

  Elomia bent down and picked a book up off the floor. She weighed it in her hand then threw it at the wall. Her long right arm exerted surprising force. The book's spine split and pages flew everywhere.

  Tarnava collapsed to the floor in a torrent of tears, wailing. Griel softened her fall, then let her go.

  Elomia glowered at Sal. The incident with Mawson was clearly neither forgotten nor forgiven. “We should have recognised the signs,” she said. “The day had to come eventually. But why now? Where are they now? Who sent them here? Will we ever see them again?”

  Shilly thought of the strange trio she had glimpsed in the cave: Tom, Mawson, and one of the Quorum. Three beings who lived, partly or wholly, outside the usual flow of time. Three who had, along with the rest of the Quorum, disappeared.

  “There's something going on,” Shilly said. “Something bigger than all of us.”

  “There is indeed,” said a male voice from the entrance. Shilly turned to see a Panic male standing with a retinue of guards behind him, splendidly armoured in black and gold. His broad face was twisted into a snarl beneath a shining bald pate. A slick black beard coiled down to two elegant points that looked as though they had been waxed. “It's called history, and we are all part of it. Some of us ride the winds of change willingly; others fight it and are swept away. The time has come to choose which path you want to follow.”

  “All this talk of wind is just that, Oriel.” Jao loped forward, her anger a match for Elomia's. “The only wind you're riding is your own hot air.”

  “Is that so?” Oriel gestured and guards rushed into the room with hooks in hand. “You defy the orders of the Heptarchs. You help prisoners escape from the holding cells. You bring the enemy to the very heart of our city. You murder your own. It seems to me you've already made a choice. No matter how your lips may phrase it, your actions speak volumes.”

  Griel, Jao, and Erged were herded with Sal, Shilly, and Highson into the centre of the room. Shilly raised her cane and knocked the nearest hook aside, but another immediately took its place.

  “You can't kill us,” protested Jao.

  “On the contrary, I can, and may yet, when you've faced trial. For now, though, you live. The humans are a different story.”

  “They're innocent!”

  “Like the ones who attacked us last night, I suppose?” Oriel said, beard quivering. “A misunderstanding, you'd say. A mistake. I say otherwise. They have misled you. Their intent is and always has been murderous. They are spies and conspirators and guilty of crimes against the kingsfolk. I will not suffer them to live.”

  Shilly didn't waste time protesting. She took Sal's hand and spoke to him through the Change.

  “I'm ready,” he said. “Which one should I hit first? Oriel? The guard in front of you?”

  “No. We need to disable all of them at once.” Panic soldiers shoved her, Sal, and Highson together and raised their hooks. Green light gleamed off their sharp points. She fought to think clearly through rising terror, imagining herself gutted as the guard had been outside the entrance. “Take Highson's hand. Use this charm, as hard as you can.”

  “What will it do?”

  “Don't ask questions! Just use it!”

  She felt Highson join the momentary gestalt and Sal's unease at bonding so intimately with his father. She felt her own fear at the consequences of what she was about to do. She felt the Change flex as the Panic soldiers drew their hooks back to strike.

  “I accept!” cried Griel in a loud voice. At the same moment, a bright light flashed and the floor literally fell out from underneath them.

  “We know for a fact that the firmament is

  decidedly infirm. That it moved cataclysmically

  in the past we take as axiomatic; that it might move

  again is a possibility we cannot ignore.

  Therefore two of the most important responsibilities of

  a Sky Warden are to look for signs of such a recurrence

  and to take all steps necessary to prevent it. These

  transcend all other duties. The world is still recovering

  from the last Cataclysm. It might not survive the next.”

  MASTER WARDEN RISA ATILDE: NOTES TOWARD A UNIFIED CURRICULUM

  “It was here!”

  Skender stayed well back as Marmion raged about the campsite, clutching his injured hand to his chest and kicking at the evidence: rapidly cooling ashes; the remains of a small meal; numerous footprints, human and camel; harpweed fronds and the remains of a herbal paste; a patch of dried blood.

  A Change-dead circle ringed the campsite, confirming what could merely have been supposition.

  “We suspected as much,” said Banner soothingly. “The description matched perfectly.”

  “But to have been so close—” Marmion stopped and stared at her, wild-eyed. “To know for certain that it lives—”

  “What is this creature?” asked Lidia Delfine, a suspicious look on her face. “You made no mention of it when addressing the Guardian.”

  “I told your mother what she needed to know—as much as we knew, in fact. Anything else would've been pure speculation.” He went back to pacing, unrepentant. “It was with Kail. That runner of yours named him, healed him, said he was travelling with one or two people who stayed hidden from her in the bushes. What in the Goddess's name is that fool up to?”

  Skender piped up at that. “Sounds to me like he's helping the twins. I mean, think about it,” he went on, although daunted by the angry look Marmion shot him. “They were together when the flood hit. The twins must have saved him, earned a favour or two. He's bound by that even now, as they continue on their way. Northeast, the same as before.”

  He glanced up the path the Homunculus had followed. It wound and twisted up the side of a mountain, but its heading was clear.

  “Kail might be hoping to learn more about what the Homunculus wants,” added Banner. “When he knows for sure, he'll make a break for it and let us know in turn.”

  “Or maybe he already knows,” said Chu, “and he's helping out of the goodness of his heart. You may not like that possibility, but you do need to consider it.”

  “What lies in that direction?” Marmion asked Lidia Delfine, pointing with his one hand along the uphill path.

  “A pass leading to the deeper ranges,” she said. “There are mining villages up there. We trade with them for metal.”

  “Is that all?”

  “I have no reason to lie.”

  “It's going to be hard for them to travel quickly, if Kail is injured,” Marmion thought aloud, ignoring her dig at him. “They can't have gone far.”

  “What does it matter if they do go far?” said Skender, feeling a flash of irritation at the man's doggedness. “We have work to do right here. It's personal now. The Swarm attacked Milang while we were out hunting for them. Eitzen is dead. We can't take on every problem at once. If we don't finish what we started, we'll have the Swarm breathing down our necks every step we take into the bloody mountains.”

  Marmion looked down at the ground. The mood of the group became quiet at the reminder of their recent losses. Skender couldn't close his eyes without seeing flashes of red. Kelloman's litter was a sombre and very heavy presence behind them.

  “I hear you, Skender Van Haasteren,” Marmion said. “I hear you, and I know you are right. Yet I would chase this thing to the end of the world if I thought it would divert what's coming. A few lives will make no difference.”

  “A few lives?” spat Lidia Delfine. “The end of the world? You will speak plainly with us, warden, or I'll send you back to your Alcaide in six pieces.”

  Marmion's balding head bobbed in a nod. “I'll tell you all, if we keep moving while I do so. I'm anxious to d
eal with these wraiths so my real quest can resume. We have been held up too long already.”

  The party of foresters and sundry other people resumed their march for Milang, leaving the brief resting place of Kail and the Homunculus behind. Wondering at this unexpected turn of events, Skender attempted to raise Sal through the Change, but he received no response. That gave him even more reason to worry, and he wished he hadn't tried.

  The path snaked at a constant height along the rippling side of the mountain range, so they walked with tree trunks crowding on their left and the canopy sloping steeply downward to their right. Kelloman and Chu brought up the rear of the column—the mage because he constantly dragged his heels, and Chu because she had been assigned there by Heuve. She didn't look happy about it, either. In the rush to break camp, there had been no time for her and Skender to have the talk that she had promised. Skender, walking a little ahead of them and listening in to their conversation without trying to make it too obvious, could feel the tension boiling inside her. He wasn't surprised at all when she tried to pick a fight.

  “Is this your pet?” she innocently asked the mage, stroking the ears of the bilby perched on her shoulder.

  “Certainly not. The filthy thing is covered with fleas.”

  “It seems perfectly healthy to me. What about the girl?”

  “Which girl? What about her?”

  “The girl whose body you're inhabiting, of course.”

  “There's nothing to know.”

  “Who was she? What happened to her? Why was she given to you?”

  “That is of no relevance to me. Why would I care?”

  “It just seems odd to me, that's all—being in someone else's body. I can't imagine what it must be like.”

  “Uncomfortable, if you must know.”

  “Would you prefer to be in a man's body?”

  “Bee's whiskers, girl, you ask the most impertinent questions!”

  “That's the best way to learn. Or so I'm told.”

  Kelloman blustered for a moment, then answered her question. “Of course I'd prefer a man's body. But this is what I was given. I've tried to change it, and they won't let me. It's a concerted campaign, you know—a deliberate attempt to break my will. My so-called friends back home punish me by sending me here. The people here do their utmost to make me go home. Well, I won't give in to either of them. Do you hear me? I won't!”

  “The whole forest can probably hear you.”

  “And who are you to question me? Outcast and bloodletter—”

  “Hey—I have nothing to do with the yadachi, and it's not my fault my family left the forest. I wasn't even born when that happened.”

  “And it's not my fault this poor child ate moonflower that hadn't been cured properly and lost her mind as a result!”

  “So you do know.”

  “Of course. I'm not a complete ass. She did it on a dare to impress some boy. But that doesn't change anything. Her stupidity has become my prison.”

  “How is it your prison, really? She's young and healthy.”

  “Well, there's the family to think of, and the people she knew. I'm obviously keen to spare them further distress—but how can I do that? It's impossible to avoid all of them all of the time.”

  “What about you? Does it cause you distress?”

  Kelloman said nothing for a long while, and that silence was more eloquent than anything the mage could ever have said.

  Some of the tension left Chu, then. “Do you know what I think?” she prompted.

  “No, and I'm not entirely certain I care to hear it.”

  “I think this little fellow was her pet.”

  “Preposterous. The girl's mind is dead.”

  “But her body is still alive. That's what the bilby recognises. No matter how much you might care to ignore it, part of her is still here, and you should honour it.”

  A strange thing happened then that brought the entire party to a halt. With an explosive release of colour and noise, every bird in every tree surrounding them took to the air and flew off into the fog. Birds from further afield joined the throng, flying overhead with a deafening clapping of wings.

  Skender stood stock still, gaping up at the riotous mayhem. From the front of the column, he heard Marmion exclaim, “What the Goddess…?”

  Then the ground kicked beneath them and Skender fell to his knees. The trees shook as though in a heavy wind. Trunks swayed; dead branches fell. Skender dived forward and clutched the treacherous Earth, seeking stability it didn't provide.

  The tremor lasted a dozen breaths but felt like a lifetime. Even as the deep rumble eased, the danger didn't pass. Over cries of relief came a new sound, this time from above: a growing roar that could only be one thing.

  “Avalanche!” cried Lidia Delfine, waving people to her. What good that would do, Skender couldn't imagine, but he went along with them on shaky legs. He found himself pressed between Chu, Kelloman, and a large man whose eyes were slitted, almost closed. The roar became louder but he could see nothing through the fog. It sounded like half the mountain was coming down on them.

  Skender felt the ground kick again—then the roaring was all around them. The air swirled as though stirred by a giant hand. Chu's mouth was open but he couldn't hear her screaming, the noise was so loud.

  Incredibly, it passed. Dust rolled over them, thick and cloying in the humid air. He coughed and heard others doing likewise as his hearing returned. The day turned yellow and dark.

  “Is everyone all right?” Heuve and Lidia Delfine moved through the party one at a time, checking to make sure no one had been hurt. Skender and Chu nodded dumbly when their turn came, not realising until then just how tightly they were clinging to each other. They stepped apart, avoiding each other's gaze.

  “That was close,” said Banner. Her hair and face were coated with dust. “Does that happen here often?”

  “The occasional tremor, yes,” said Lidia Delfine, “but rarely like this. The last one was just before the flood.”

  Kelloman interrupted them. “That was no ordinary quake.”

  All eyes turned to him. “What do you mean?” asked Marmion.

  “Earthquakes are natural occurrences. The Earth flexes, changes—just like us, only on a much longer timescale. Sometimes it shrugs to make itself sit more comfortably, to relieve a growing tension, or in response to pressure elsewhere.”

  “Yes, yes. But you're saying this wasn't like that?”

  “It didn't feel so to me.” Kelloman bristled at being rushed. “There was no warning, no natural trigger. Whatever caused this earthquake, it wasn't the Earth.”

  Lidia Delfine exchanged a quick glance with Heuve. “Thank you, Stone Mage Kelloman,” she said. “We'll talk about this more when we return to Milang. Until then, checking that the path is still passable is the most important thing.”

  She called out instructions and the tight huddle began to break up. Chu stepped in close to Kelloman to whisper, “Nice one. What did you go and mention that for?”

  “Why wouldn't I?”

  “Because this lot's already half-expecting another flood, another village to be wiped out. And now you've suggested that the Panic might be behind it.”

  “I didn't say that. I just said it wasn't natural.”

  “Which means something apart from nature is behind it. And that means someone. Who else do they have to point their fingers at apart from the Panic?”

  “The wraiths, the golem—”

  “And us, sure. There are lots of possibilities. But I think their traditional enemies will be assumed guilty first, don't you?”

  Kelloman looked somewhat abashed, but still irritated. “These people—I mean, really—”

  “We're no different,” said Marmion. “Let's not be guilty of the same assumptions they make, eh?”

  A series of shouts and whistles saw the column moving again. Marmion hurried off into the mist, heading for the lead. Word spread back that the path was intact and that all should ma
ke the utmost haste or be left behind. Kelloman scowled but stepped up the pace.

  Chu came to walk with Skender, but didn't make any overtures to talk. Skender honoured that silence. Just moments ago he had been certain they were both about to die. It wasn't the first time he had felt that way around her, and he was certain the feeling was mutual. Words couldn't do it justice.

  Silence was enough, for now.

  A trio of blasts sent the birds—only recently returned after the shock of the quake—scattering up into the air again. Three more came soon after, prompting Lidia Delfine to split the party in two. She and the fastest runners would go ahead while the rest followed on. Heuve chose Chu to be one of the runners, but not Skender.

  “Don't worry,” she said, giving him the bilby. “I'm sure it's nothing personal. You've just got stumpy legs.”

  “I don't see why you're so keen to go running anywhere. It sounds like hard work to me.”

  “Hey, yeah.” Her face fell. “Maybe it is personal. That son of a bitch…”

  She went off to argue with Heuve, and didn't return. Lidia Delfine and her honour guard disappeared into the mist with a rattling of armour and rapid tramping of feet.

  Marmion had stayed behind in the slower-moving group along with Skender, Banner, and Kelloman. Four guards escorted them.

  “Any idea what's going on?” Skender asked Marmion.

  “Another messenger arrived from Milang. I didn't catch all of it, but he said something about the Panic being on the move.”

  “That could mean anything.”

  “It could, yes, but it will most likely be taken one way. After the message Seneschal Schuet brought, and rising tensions between the two parties…” Marmion looked grim. “I fear this will not end well.”

  They passed within sight of a moai, perched above the path on a natural shelf where it might have sat for centuries for all Skender could tell. It had tilted to its right, giving it a slightly dangerous air. Its wide eyes and shadowed brow revealed nothing of its inner thoughts. The ghostly moan issuing from its wide mouth was equally uninformative.