Published 2012 by Pyr®, an imprint of Prometheus Books
The Devoured Earth, Books of the Cataclysm: Four. Copyright © 2012 by Sean Williams. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or conveyed via the Internet or a website without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover illustration © 2012 Greg Bridges
Cover design by Jacqueline Nasso Cooke
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ISBN 978–1–61614–627–6 (ebook)
Originally published: Sydney, Australia : Voyager,
an imprint of HarperCollins, 2006.
What does it mean to be human? It's more
than the right number of arms, legs, fingers
and toes, the ability to talk, and walking
upright. It's more than the Change and the art
we make. It's more than all of this, and less.
We follow a path through the realms that
makes us uniquely different to any other
creature. Not all the realms, for there are
more than we can imagine, of every possible
flavour and logic. We inhabit just three, and
they define our character as surely as a fish is
defined by the sea or a snake by the earth.
That's not to say that we can't aspire to
transcend the limitations of our environment.
We are dreamers, we humans, and what lies
outside has always held a fascination. But we
must remember that the achievement of that
dream carries a high price. Sometimes the
boundary is too easy to cross. We should not
lightly set aside our humanity, because it's not
always possible to get it back.
A SCRIBE'S BOOK OF QUESTIONS
Out of the darkness, something came—something as alien to the human mind as it was to the world humans inhabited. It passed through realms as easily as a beast might cross a stream, yet it was not, by nature, a wanderer. It possessed desires no earthly being had ever imagined; it craved satiation in ways beyond description.
It hungered.
But it told itself to be patient. Its time was nearing. Soon, the waiting and watching would be over, and the human world would know its face.
Then its need, finally, would be fulfilled.
‘What is the shape of the world?
The answer to that question depends entirely on
where you are standing.’
A SCRIBE'S BOOK OF QUESTIONS
Everything hurt. Skender could barely move without confronting that grim reality. From the pounding of his temples to the chill biting at his toes, not one part of his body had been spared. His appetite was nonexistent, he was unable to sleep, and when he stood up too fast his head spun like a top. The tea brewed by Griel and his two Panic balloonists to ward off the worst of the symptoms of altitude sickness filled his bladder faster than ordinary tea, so he spent much of every day wanting to take a leak.
He refused to say anything, though, and not just because he knew everyone aboard the blimp was feeling the same effects of the staggered ascent as him. The memories of Chu's dismissive, even rough, attitude when he was water-sick while sailing the flooded Divide were still fresh. That she was also sick this time around wouldn't stop her exploiting an opportunity to needle him.
He felt her watching him even as he concentrated on Mage Kelloman's suncatching charm. Opening one eye a crack, he saw her standing at the fore of the boat-like gondola, near Griel. Her black hair glowed with mahogany highlights in the sun. The skin of her cheeks was as golden-brown as the wooden instrument panel before her.
Dressed in a heavy woollen overcoat and gloves, she had swivelled slightly to look back at him. A faint smile floated on her full lips. His whole body tingled in response. Although the blimp was the biggest he had ever seen and the balloon supported an enclosed gondola roomy enough for thirty people, he had never craved privacy so much as he had during every moment of their journey so far. Barely had Chu told him her heart-name than they had been whisked out of the Panic city and taken to Milang, where Marmion had coordinated the expedition to the top of the mountains, the biggest ever undertaken according to local records.
Since then, the only moments Chu and Skender had found to be alone came very late at night, when everyone else was asleep, or during brief mountaineering expeditions while the blimp was moored to a jagged cliff face. And even then, with altitude sickness clawing at their guts and skulls, there was only so much they felt like doing.
Hana, he whispered to himself. Hana, I think I—
‘Eyes on the job, my boy,’ said a gruff, high-pitched voice from beside him. ‘Eyes on the job, or you and your friend will never get a second's peace.’
Skender clenched his eyes shut and ignored the red-hot flush rising up to fill his cheeks. He hadn't meant his thoughts to wander so much, let alone leak to the point where Mage Kelloman could pick up the details.
‘I'm sorry,’ he said, clutching at the shreds of his concentration, and his dignity. ‘I didn't mean—’
‘Don't get your tights in a tangle.’ Mage Kelloman's skender hand touched his shoulder. ‘We're all tired and impatient, easily distracted. But the end is in sight. By this night's fall, we could finally be on level ground. Think of it—so much stone and bedrock to explore! None of this scavenging for the sun's meagre rays. We'll have real power then, boy. We'll be in our element.’
‘What's that, Mage Kelloman?’ came Sky Warden Eisak Marmion's voice from the fore of the gondola. ‘Is the strain proving too much? We could pause and allow you a breather, if you'd like.’
‘I certainly would not,’ the mage said, his tone artificially crisp. ‘I was merely remarking to my young friend here that we could provide a little more lift. If you can handle it, of course.’
Marmion tilted his head. ‘More lift, not less? Are you sure?’
‘As sure as eggs. I, for one, am keen to stretch my legs.’
‘You speak for us all, I suspect.’ A rustle of agreement swept through the gondola, from Griel and the Panic tending the balloon's stays and control surfaces to Lidia Delfine. Even the twins, so often caught in their own private world, nodded.
‘Very well, then. One final push and it will be done. Thank you, Mage Kelloman. When you're ready, we'll put your extra effort to good use.’
Kelloman bowed with exaggerated dignity, giving the body of his host—a young woman whose mind had long since fled—gravitas far beyond its years.
‘What do you think you're doing?’ Skender hissed to him. The wardens returned to charms made by Panic Engineers and reinforced by foresters in Milang. ‘We're stretched too thin as it is!’
‘Quiet, boy.’ The mage made a minute adjustment to the pattern scorched onto the wooden floor of the gondola at his feet. ‘We have work to do.’
‘But—’
‘Work. This isn't a holiday, you know.’
Skender swallowed his irritation and sought the still centre required to shore up the mage's effort. Their job was simple: to draw energy from the sun and channel it into the balloon's many charms. Griel, Chu and Marmion ensured the charms were employed against thinning air and strengthening winds. Skender felt, however, that Kelloman was
putting too much emphasis on their end of the deal. Yes, he was the only mage for hundreds of kilometres and, outnumbered on all fronts, correspondingly determined to make his presence felt. But that didn't justify nearly killing them both in the process.
Forty pinpricks made him jump as the mage's pet—a tiny brown-furred bilby with pointed ears, big eyes and sharp claws—leapt into his lap and climbed onto his shoulder. He patted it, encouraging it to settle.
‘Concentrate, boy,’ the mage growled through his borrowed lips. Skender willed himself to stop thinking entirely, so that through the Change and his link with Kelloman he dissolved into the charms enveloping the skin of the blimp. As well as being larger than any other balloon in the forest, it was easily one of the most complex machines he had ever seen. From the glowing rotors thrumming outside the gondola—two each to port and starboard—to the web of charms maintaining everything from elevation to insulation, the blimp required constant attention to make sure it functioned as required.
A strong gust of wind shook the blimp, making his stomach lurch. His eyes opened automatically, just for a second. Chu was at the controls, helping Griel adjust their flight. Beyond the windows was nothing but blue sky to the west, black and grey everywhere else. The monstrous mountain range still loomed over them, even as they approached its summit. And Kelloman wanted to turn the situation to his advantage! Sometimes that thought made Skender want to laugh. Other times it made him want to turn tail and hide.
Instead, he simply crossed his fingers and hoped for the best.
They had left Milang six days earlier, ascending into the clouds three dawns after fire had nearly burned the forest city to the ground. The mission was a cooperative venture: everyone caught up in the awakening of forces from the previous Cataclysm had joined together to find out what was to the north-east, where the twins assured them the greatest threat lay. No one knew quite what to expect. Skender didn't take any encouragement from the floods, murderous wraiths, earthquakes and man'kin invasions that he and others had already endured. With no seers remaining to peer into the future, all they had to go on were a smattering of hints from prophecies old and new, plus their own wits.
A series of delicate soundings taken, firstly, at Milang, and then at several points along their journey, unveiled the shape of the mountain range beyond the region known to the Panic and the people of the forest. It was in fact several mountain ranges—at least seven—converging on a central point like a giant starfish with limbs reaching across the plains. At the intersection of those limbs the earth bulged up in a mighty rupture. This, the highest point of the mountain ranges, was the mission's primary destination. Kelloman's soundings weren't clear enough to tell what exactly lay there, but he spoke in guarded terms of a circular patch of elevated land several kilometres across, surrounded by peaks that shook and rumbled under the influence of forces Skender could barely imagine.
When the balloon had reached the limits of the foresters’ geographical knowledge and then flown beyond even the charts of the Panic, they relied on Kelloman's soundings to find their way through steep valleys and broad fissures, rising further and further with every hour.
On the second day, they had punched through the uppermost layers of the permanent cloud cover hugging the lower ranges and valleys to find themselves flying for the first time in clear air. From then on, navigation became somewhat easier, but the daunting mass of mountain looming above them reminded them not to become complacent: vast shelfs of snow and ice lay ahead, just as dangerous in its own way as the cloud. The balloon could not fly continuously, and safe docking points had become harder and harder to find. The whining sound of chimerical engines echoed off sheer rock faces, occasionally triggering avalanches of stupendous proportions.
Yet, despite the hostile conditions, there were signs of life: streamers of smoke rose from small communities huddling in sheltered niches; paths crisscrossed several more accessible regions, linking caves that were almost invisible until the balloon came directly alongside them. Once, when surmounting a broad spur and coming into view of the valley beyond, the travellers had been confronted by a vast, flat roof large enough to cover two Milangs. Canted at a steep angle to prevent snow from piling too deeply, it sheltered nearly a third of the valley below. Exactly what it protected was unknown to either Panic or forester, and was likely to remain that way, for nothing and no one came to stare at the intruder in the skies. Very few people had emerged from any of the places they had seen, made cautious by the events of recent weeks.
Everywhere they went Skender saw evidence of the flood. Deep channels that diverged and joined traced complex paths down the side of the mountains. It soon became clear that the torrent that had filled the Divide had taken many routes from its source. Several of these channels had played havoc with the region's struggling communities, sweeping away animals, crops and homes. Some of the channels were still carrying water that roiled and foamed as it fell. One waterfall dropped so far that from its middle Skender could see neither top nor bottom. For an enchanting but unnerving hour he could pretend that the flow was endless.
By the fourth day, he had begun to wonder if their journey, too, might have no end. Upwards and upwards they strove, snatching every metre of altitude from a reluctant sky. The cloud level dropped away and the vista of jagged, twisted stone below and beside them had become even more terrifying, yet the summit, visible only as a dark line against the sky far above, seemed to come no closer. The strain on the balloon's mingled crew increased the higher they went. Altitude sickness took a severe toll on minds and bodies that were already fatigued.
Nowhere was that more obvious than in the rivalry of Kelloman and Marmion. The air had always been tense between the two men, both of them ambitious and masters of their very different disciplines. That tension was now manifesting in the form of fierce battles of pointed politeness. Skender—caught up in the ongoing campaign because he was nearly a mage himself and therefore the only ally Kelloman had—found himself becoming impatient with both men. What was the point of expending so much energy on pointless oneupsmanship? It only made the rest of the crew more uncomfortable than they would otherwise have been.
A long, sustained shudder rippled through the gondola, bringing him back to the present and sending the Panic crew scurrying about, checking instruments and adjusting control surfaces. One opened a hatch in the ceiling and slipped quickly outside. A wave of bitter cold swept through the interior to where Skender knelt at the back, doing his best to concentrate. He shuddered, despite the thick layers of thermal underwear under his black robe. The caulking around the gondola's joins and seams was far from perfect, allowing hair-thin, knife-sharp breezes to slash past his ears, so he knew going outside would be colder still.
He stole another peek forward. Marmion had joined Chu and Griel. All three peered up and out the pilot's window.
‘That looks promising,’ Skender heard Chu say, ‘and about time too.’
‘Fifty metres to the summit,’ the warden announced to the crew in general. ‘There's a pass near the top. We're aiming for that. Once through and out of this wind, the going should be steadier.’
So close! Skender thought, but it still seemed another world away. He remembered something the twins had said about the Second Realm being next to the First in the sense that one second was next to another; they occupied the same space, and yet were quite separate, and crossing from one to the other could be incredibly difficult. That was how he felt about the top of the mountains. It was there, and always had been, but getting to it was proving far from easy.
‘Would you like to rest before the final push?’ asked Mage Kelloman without either opening his eyes or moving from his meditative posture. ‘If the wind is problematic—’
‘That won't be necessary,’ said Marmion with a faint smile. ‘In fact, I thought we might increase the pace. There's no point holding back now. The sooner we get to the top, the sooner we can rest.’
‘Why not?’ Behind Kelloman's
nonchalant reply, Skender sensed exhaustion and determination in equal measure. ‘I'll give you all the potential you need.’
‘Right, then. Let's get on with it.’
Someone groaned. Skender couldn't tell who, but he echoed the sentiment. Not for the first time, Skender wished Sal were there to help them. With his wild talent behind the push upwards, the journey would be over in moments. But Sal had his own quest to pursue.
Mage Kelloman resumed his concentration on the suncatching charms. The gondola's engines throbbed at a deeper pitch, casting a golden light on the cliff face as the blimp continued its upward journey. Fifty metres didn't sound far; Skender could have walked it with no effort at all. But flying was a different matter to walking, especially as they were now very close to the theoretical limits of powered-balloon travel. Every metre was a challenge.
‘That's the way,’ Marmion said. ‘That's the way.’ He ran a hand across his bald scalp. The last of his hair had fallen out on the long journey, leaving his head as smooth and round as an egg. ‘One last push and it'll be over.’
‘You're in entirely the wrong field, you know,’ said Chu. ‘Have you ever considered midwifery?’
Marmion didn't rise to the bait. The blimp seemed to be hanging dead in the air, its upward drift was so subtle.
‘Mage Kelloman, a skerrick more oomph if you wouldn't mind. The charms are at their breaking point.’
‘A skerrick? Why, certainly.’ The mage's voice was frostily formal, and he did find extra potential from somewhere within himself.
‘That's the way.’ Marmion breathed again.
The words became a mantra Skender clung to as the metres slid slowly by. He lacked the perspective of those at the front of the gondola, but he could make out the cliff face through the nearest window. It was moving, slowly but surely.
The blimp swayed above them, rattling the gondola's occupants like nails in a tin.
‘Hold fast,’ Marmion encouraged them all as he moved down the gondola's central aisle, brushing shoulders reassuringly with his one hand. The other arm hung close to his gut, wrapped in the folds of his blue-clad sleeve. ‘We're almost there. Almost…’
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