by Jaine Fenn
Eventually, the fall of soil and gravel became a trickle. She raised her head, blinking loose earth out of her eyes.
Everything was at the wrong angle.
She closed her eyes again, gathered her strength, then tried looking round again, more carefully.
Her fall had been broken by a massive object poking up from the valley side. A big rock? Probably, and hitting it might have killed her if not for the mass of mud and sodden vegetation already caught on it, cushioning her fall. She’d landed sideways, with the mountain on her left, draped along the flat surface like a ragdoll.
Her right arm hurt. Broken? No, just trapped under her at an awkward angle. She eased her left arm back and levered herself up enough to look around. The top of the rock was flat, or made so by the muck and debris caught on it, forming a ledge wide enough to sit up on. Brilliance beat down from above; she kept her gaze low.
Something was pulling on the arm she was lying on. Of course: the rope! And Etyan was on the other end of it. She lowered herself again, using the weight of her body to pin her arm, rather than have to support Etyan’s weight. Her body felt weak and fragile.
“Etyan!” Her feeble call was barely audible over the tumult of water below. She drew breath and shouted louder, “Etyan, are you all right!”
“I’m here!”
Thank the First! She raised herself again, hoping for a sight of him. The strain on her wrist increased – and it was from two directions. The bandit girl must still be attached to the other end of the rope. Etyan and the skykin were strung either side of the rock that had broken Rhia’s fall, like a pair of market scales.
“Etyan, are you injured?”
“I’m… I’m not hurt. Dangling like a party treat though.”
“Stay calm, we can get out of this.”
Hauling him up was not an option. Even if she could free her arm, she doubted she was strong enough. And there was the pull coming from the other side. “Hey, you down there, skykin girl!” Rhia called.
A pause, then, “Yes?”
“Are you hurt?”
Silence, then, “No.”
Good. So, this just came down to an engineering problem. “Are you facing in or out?”
“What?”
“Can you see the sky?”
“All I can see is dirt.”
“Right. There should be a rock to your left. Reach out for it!”
“Why?”
“Because the alternative is that I use this sharp rock up here to cut through the rope you’re holding onto, and you fall. Makes no difference to me.” Rhia hoped this wasn’t one of the skykin who sensed lies.
“Uh, I can see the rock.”
“Good. You need to get onto it, and cling on. Etyan?”
“Yes.”
“The rock’s on your right, so it’s the same for you. Except,” she laughed a little hysterically, “there’s no risk of me cutting you free.”
“Glad to hear it.” He sounded pretty hysterical himself.
This would be easier without her pack. But even now, Dej couldn’t bring herself to ditch Kir’s possibly still-living animus.
She kicked out to the left, and on the second attempt stubbed her toes on rock; she winced. On the third attempt she got her foot into a gap in the rock. She clung with her toes, then used her left hand to get a hold farther up. Her right arm, which she hung by, was going numb.
She turned her head round to face the rock. It was dark grey, shot through with seams of pale crystal. She felt the shock of small lives disrupted by the landslide.
She gripped the rock tighter, working her fingers into crevices, gripping with her toes until they cramped. Then she hauled herself closer.
From above, the shadowkin woman called, “That’s it, both of you. Now you need to climb up.”
She brought her right foot round, twisting herself into a knot, found an indentation, and jammed her foot into it. She pressed herself to the rock, clinging close with three limbs, cheek against the rough stone.
She could hear the woman shouting encouragement to the boy, though her words were hard to make out over the rushing water from below. Then she called down, “I don’t know your name.”
The woman was talking to her. “I’m Dej.”
“Right, Dej. I need you to climb now. Use the rope for support.”
Who did this shadowkin think she was? Dej answered her own question: someone who knew what she was doing. And someone she was still attached to. “All right,” she called up. Having to hold the rope was a hindrance, leaving only three limbs to climb with. But if she screwed up, it might save her. She bent her left elbow and hauled herself up across the rock, toes feeling for a hold.
As she pulled herself higher the pressure on her right arm lessened. Her right shoulder popped. Suddenly she had full control of that arm again. It ached, but worked.
From above the woman called, “Etyan, keep going, you’re nearly there.”
Dej raised her raw wrist high enough to put some slack in the rope and shook her hand to get the blood flowing. She brought her right arm round, ignoring the pins and needles, and gripped the stone with it. This rock was bigger than her hut. Secure now, she risked looking over her shoulder.
The ravine was no more than two dozen steps away. Those two dozen steps were a slanted ruin of mud-churned earth and debris. A pale shape stuck up from the devastated land over to one side, just short of the precipice. It looked like an arm.
It was just possible, if the stream was deep enough, and not as full of rocks as it sounded, that someone might survive the fall into the ravine. But even if they did, they had no way to get back up. She extended her senses, trying to find some glimmer of other, familiar lives, but there was nothing. The clanless were gone. She was on her own.
Except, of course, for the pair of shadowkin she was tied to.
She turned back, and looked up.
The two shadowkin were only a body’s length away, on the highest point of the rock. The boy was sitting down; next to him the woman was unclasping her cloak. The boy, who’d lost his own cloak, looked at Dej. His desperate dare-to-hope expression made her look away.
The woman eased her cloak around both of them. They sat pressed together under it. She turned her narrow gaze on Dej and called. “Can you find us shelter?”
“Shelter?” She’d overheard Cal talking to Tew on the journey here, something about allowing for the cloudy skies not holding on the way back. At the time, she’d been confused as to why the state of the sky mattered. Tew had mentioned the red valley; she’d only visited it once, but reckoned she could find it from here. “Yes,” she said, “Yes, I can.”
“How far is it?” The woman was pale and Dej smelled the fear on her, though she kept her voice even.
“Less than a day’s walk.”
The woman nodded. “Good.”
She appeared to assume that the fact Dej could lead them to safely meant that she would.
Chapter 49
“Which way, then?”
At first Rhia thought the skykin girl hadn’t heard her. She sat at the edge of the rock, facing downslope. She turned slowly, her expression hard to read. “Over there,” she said, pointing up in the direction the bandits had been heading. “We’ll have to crawl.”
“That’s fine. We’ll manage.” Both she and Etyan had cuts and bruises, and her right arm was still numb from being trapped under her, but these were minor inconveniences.
“We should get this rope off first. If one falls, we all will.”
The girl – Dej – was right. What had saved them before could kill them now. “Good idea. And, um, your backpack…?” From her perch just above the girl Rhia could see the pack was only half full; it contained a red-stained bundle, presumably more of the meat the skykin had eaten the night before. And, somewhere, her sightglass.
The girl said nothing. Then she undid the straps on the basket and eased it round in front of her. She stared into its depths.
“I don’t sup
pose,” said Rhia, “you’ve got a spare cloak in there.”
“No. We only had one spare. You’re wearing mine.”
“Ah. And can I have my sightglass back, please?”
“Your what?”
“The wooden tube you took from me last night.”
“Why?”
“I’m sorry: why what?”
“Why should I give it back to you? You threatened to cut me loose just now, Mam Shadowkin.”
“My name’s Rhia, and this is my brother Etyan. Yes, I threatened to cut you loose. And you were planning to sell us to the highest bidder. But that was then. I’m sorry, Dej, but your people are gone. It’s just the three of us now.”
“I know that.”
When Dej cut the ropes off their wrists Rhia tried not to flinch. If she turned her knife on them, they were dead. If she chose to leave them, they were dead. They had to trust her.
The skykin re-sheathed her knife and reached into the basket, drew out the sightglass and passed it up to Rhia, who tucked it in her satchel. Then she jammed the basket into a crevice in the rock, leaving it upright and open to the sky. “I’ll lead.”
“Yes, please.” She turned to Etyan. “We can’t both have the cloak, so you take it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Here was one thing she could do to protect her brother, even if it left her exposed to the sky. She would be all right for a while, as long as the Sun stayed behind those clouds. She massaged her arm to get it working properly.
“Follow me down,” called Dej.
The same coating of loose earth and vegetation that had stopped the rock killing her made getting off it tricky. She took it slowly. Below her, Dej slid off the rock to spreadeagle herself facedown on the slope.
“You’ll have to go on your bellies, like snakes.” Dej demonstrated, working her way up and along the loose earth by pressing into the slope with her lead foot, at the same time reaching up with both hands, grasping for handholds. When she found a rocky outcrop or bit of vegetation still attached to the mountain, she held onto it while pushing off and up with her back foot.
Once off the rock Rhia followed Dej’s lead and pressed herself into the mud. Her arm ached. She ignored it. The land had settled, though the ground beneath her felt treacherously loose, and every tiny trickle of earth dislodged by her weight made her breath catch.
Dej called, “Don’t get too close.” Not much risk of that: the skykin was already some way ahead.
Dej led them diagonally up the slope. This half crawl, half paddle was an undignified, stressful, filthy way to travel but it was the only way if they didn’t want to end up in the ravine below. Rhia turned her head to check Etyan was following.
Her body began to ache in strange new places: buttocks, ankles, upper arms. Fear gave way to frustration. She reached higher, eager for this to be over.
Her arm skidded through earth. Suddenly she was sliding. She pressed herself into the slope, ignoring the soil in eyes and mouth, her hands outstretched, fingers clawing for purchase.
She slowed. Stopped. Raised her head.
Dej and Etyan were looking down the slope at her. She wanted to call out that she was all right but her mouth was full of muck and she lacked the energy to state the obvious.
She spat out the mud and began to crawl back up the slope.
Dej hauled herself off the loose earth onto undamaged land. The two shadowkin had fallen behind. If she wanted, she could get up and walk away now. Just leave them. They were nothing to her.
She still wasn’t sure whether she should’ve left Kir’s animus. She hadn’t been sure it was dead, but when she’d got to safety and thought about discarding the head, her own animus hadn’t objected. Kir was dead and gone. And so was everyone else.
Leaving her with these two. At least they – well, he – had value. And not all the clanless were lost. Mar was back at the camp, waiting for news only Dej could bring. Dej could bring more than that. She could lead these two not to shelter in the red valley as they expected, but back to the clanless camp.
Except they’d never make it that far. The rain was easing off; she had to get them to shelter before the Sun broke through, if she wanted them to be worth anything to anyone.
When Rhia finally felt firm ground beneath her she stopped and closed her eyes, getting her breath back. She rolled over to sit up and saw Dej standing against the skyline, staring down into the ravine. Etyan was sitting nearby, his chest heaving.
“We’re just coming,” she called to the girl.
Dej looked at Rhia, then away. Rhia crawled over to Etyan. They leant on each other for support, and stood up. Once she saw they were upright, Dej turned and started up the hillside, moving in a low crouch which Rhia did her best to copy, eyes on the ground, hands poised to catch herself if she slipped.
When they reached the top Rhia was relieved to see flat moorland.
The rain had loosened to drizzle. Rhia shaded her eyes and looked around. The moorland – she thought of it as such, even if the vegetation consisted of purple sort-of moss dotted with upright orange-brown coils – stretched to distant hills. The girl turned to them and said, “Walk in my footsteps. If you see movement, freeze.” Without waiting for an answer, she set off.
Dej stepped delicately on the moss and avoided the snake-like coils, which expanded and contracted in a disturbingly breath-like rhythm. Rhia took care to follow close. Her boots were soon wet; the mats of mossy tendrils were waterlogged. A lot of skyland plants favoured tendrils and stems over leaves. Rhia had no idea why. She should check if any enquirer had a theory about that when she got home. If she got home.
Her head grew warm and itchy, as though she was too close to a fire. She could feel the Sun’s heat through the clouds.
During a brief stop while Dej found a safe path, Rhia noticed that they were heading for a cleft between two hills. As they started off again one of the coils sprang open, lofting a vivid orange stalk in an eye-blink. Rhia froze. The stalk rebounded, waved – once, twice – and then the clubbed end, the size of a baby’s fist, exploded into a cloud of tiny dark spots. Seeds. Rhia held her breath. There was little wind but the specks took to the air and rose. Rhia wondered if she should call out to their guide, but decided to take the girl’s advice. She did nothing, said nothing. Behind her Etyan called out “Ree?”
“Stay where you are, Etyan,” she murmured.
The seeds lofted onto a high breeze – or perhaps they had some way of propelling themselves? – and began to disperse. Up ahead, Dej turned to watch. Rhia waited until the air around her was clear then nodded to Dej, who, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded back. They carried on.
Rhia’s throat began to hurt: the moisture soaking into her boots mocked her growing thirst. The clouds were thinning, she could feel it. Burning hurt: what sort of agony would slow immolation be? Or perhaps it would not be that bad. Like dying in snow, perhaps. According to Pathfinder of Keft that was an easy death, like falling asleep. She would like to see snow; it sounded fascinating. Of course, the enquirer who claimed snow gave an easy death could not know for sure, given he had lived to write about it.
She paused, realizing she was about to walk into Dej. The skykin had stopped and turned. Ahead of them, the land ran out. “We’re nearly there.”
Rhia nodded numbly. Etyan looked exhausted and afraid, but said nothing.
They descended into a great, shallow bowl scooped into the mountainside. The mountains on the far side were lower. The foliage was sparse but varied. Rhia was sure they were still on the Shenese side of the mountains. If she saw the Sun she could be sure. But if she saw the Sun she would die.
Dej picked her way between large red rocks, working her way down the slope.
Rhia almost missed the cleft in the land. Her eyes ached from squinting against the light and her head was tight, hot and painful. When Dej’s legs disappeared she stopped, confused, then shaded her eyes and saw that the girl was descending a steep slope.
“No, but there’s water.”
Rhia licked her lips. The stream was in a ravine whose sides were mercifully shallow enough to scramble, rather than climb, down. Even so, Rhia nearly fell in her haste to get to it. The base of the ravine was in shadow. Rhia threw herself down beside the tumbling stream and drank deep. The water tasted odd, and made her tongue tingle. She looked up and saw, where the Sun still shone further up the ravine, how the rocks beside the stream were crusted with red. Had she just poisoned herself? Too late now, and Etyan was gulping the water down too. She looked up at Dej. “Is it safe?” she asked.
“For us, yes.” Dej lifted her cupped hand to her mouth.
Not a reassuring answer, but it was too late now. When they had drunk their fill the three of them scrambled up the far slope. At the top Rhia saw dark holes in the hillside a few hundred yards ahead. Only exhaustion stopped her breaking into a run. When she reached the first cave she ducked inside and was confronted by darkness. She blinked, bright afterimages dancing in her vision. Through them she made out the back of the cave; it was barely deep enough to lie flat in, with a deeply pitted floor.
The next cave was a good five yards deep and nearly as wide, with a relatively flat if rock-strewn floor. Rhia wondered if there was some inimical beast or plant, or some other reason they could not stop here. But Dej went right in, then turned and sat on the ground in the mouth of the cave. Rhia followed, and lowered herself to sit against the back wall. Her eyes started to close, but she snapped her head forward and looked to Etyan, who was sitting on a rock. “How are you doing?” she asked gently.
Etyan tried for a smile. “Nothing wrong with me a big plate of roast pork and a flagon of chilled wine wouldn’t fix.”
Rhia nodded. Dej sat with one leg tucked under her, staring out at the landscape. Rhia let her head fall back.
Her last thought, before exhaustion claimed her, was that they should be careful, because whilst the girl had led them here, she had made no promises.
