The Devoured Earth

by Sean Williams

  ‘If there's anything we can do,’ Hadrian started to say again.

  ‘There is,’ said Marmion, pulling them towards the rear of the shaking gondola. ‘You can tell me what those things were, just in case there are more waiting for us when we land.’

  The balloon shook and canted downwards. The twins did their best to ignore it. ‘It's a devel,’ Seth said. ‘They lived in the Underworld before the realms were jammed together. These particular devels were ruled by a minor dei called Culsu.’

  ‘A dei?’ The warden's expression was simultaneously worried and puzzled. ‘Is that something like a god?’

  ‘Someone probably worshipped them at some point. I don't know. Their job when I knew them was to cut up the souls of the dead as they tried to get to the Second Realm. The remains would be given to Yod to eat.’

  ‘So ultimately they worked for Yod.’

  ‘Yes.’ Seth watched black-spattered Lidia Delfine focussing an eyeglass on the lake's dark shoreline. It was growing visibly closer. ‘I guess they still do.’

  ‘Do you think there could be more of them?’

  ‘I'd be amazed if there weren't.’

  Griel had taken a measure of control over the balloon. With a discernible effort, it was turning towards the nearest village. Seth swallowed his misgivings. There might still be people around, huddling for shelter from the cold and the devels. They might need help as badly as the expedition when it landed among them.

  ‘Take your seats,’ called Griel from the front of the gondola. ‘We're going down.’

  ‘And by that,’ said Chu, ‘he means, “Hang on tight. We're going to crash!”’

  The balloon lurched and tilted so steeply that even the Homunculus's four legs had trouble keeping purchase. Seth was dismayed to see how quickly they had fallen in such a short time. He and Hadrian helped the others to safety, then took a position of their own towards the rear. Through the cracked window beside them, he could see the black scar left by the destroyed engine and the slopes of the crater rising up to meet them. There was no sign of more devels—or anything worse.

  If the towers are here…Hadrian began.

  Then Yod might be too, Seth finished. We've known it would be around somewhere. Doesn't change anything.

  It changes everything. It's not a computer game or a dream. It's right here, right now. Everything we went in the Void for is about to happen.

  It's much too late for second thoughts.

  I know. I'm not having them. I'm just—

  Terrified. Yes, me too.

  They clung tight to the seat as the icy earth came up and, with a deafening crunch, the gondola bucked beneath them.

  ‘If love conquers all,

  love itself must be conquered.’

  THE BOOK OF TOWERS, EXEGESIS 4:19

  On the fifth day Sal, Kail and Highson argued, as they had every other day. This time the debate was over whether to mark the coming of night by camping halfway up a cliff face or to continue to the top in the darkness, there to wait for the dawn to pick up the trail of the man'kin. Sal wanted to push on, unwilling to pause. Kail was more pragmatic, pointing out that the chances of losing the trail entirely were high. Highson stayed out of the discussion for the most part, except when brought into it by Kail or Sal. Highson didn't come out and say why, but Sal knew, and it angered him more than did Kail's stubborn refusal to agree to keep moving.

  ‘So you're tired,’ Sal told Highson. ‘Big deal. We all are. Do you want special treatment? Do you want to stay behind?’

  ‘I'm not asking for anything, Sal.’

  ‘But you're not agreeing with me. You don't want to go any further.’

  ‘I can see Habryn's point. And yours too, for the record. I just don't want to take sides.’

  ‘Do you wish we'd stayed at the village?’

  His father sighed, his broad features shadowed by the furred hood keeping the cold off his scalp. ‘I don't want to argue, Sal. I'll leave the decision up to you. I trust your instincts.’

  Sal retreated into himself to spare the men his frustration. The Goddess knew they'd endured plenty of it in recent days. Following the trail of the man'kin was simply taking too long. While the three of them limped their way across ever steeper, ever more rugged terrain, Shilly drew further and further out of reach.

  Deeply etched the trail might be—for creatures of solid stone could not tread lightly, even across a mountainside—but it still wouldn't last forever. Every morning Sal woke afraid that this would be the day they lost the trail and had to turn back.

  The heat of his anger kept the wind's chill at bay, but he could still feel ice biting into his nose and face all the same. His fingers felt half frozen even in their gloves. Every muscle ached from climbing with a heavy pack on his back. In his mind's eye, all he saw was Shilly receding into the distance. Every minute he paused, he slipped more behind. The man'kin didn't stop to sleep; they climbed on into the night, every night.

  ‘Damn them,’ he said, looking up at the frosty stars. ‘They're too fast, and we should've left sooner.’

  ‘Don't blame yourself,’ said Highson.

  ‘I don't. And I refuse to blame Shilly. That doesn't leave me with many options, though.’ Highson went to say something, but Sal cut him off. ‘I'd rather just keep moving. Catching up will solve all our problems.’

  ‘They have to stop eventually,’ Kail said.

  The thought offered Sal no comfort. They had been over this many times before. If they knew where the man'kin were going, they could head them off before they arrived. But beyond up, the tracker could guess little in the unfamiliar terrain.

  ‘So do we,’ Sal said, admitting that much, ‘but not now.’

  ‘All right,’ the tracker said, reluctantly agreeing. ‘But let's stop at the top of the face and rest. The more tired we are, the more likely we are to make mistakes, and mistakes will get us killed. That won't help Shilly at all.’

  Sal nodded, mentally satisfied but physically dreading the long climb ahead. He tightened the straps of his pack. ‘Let's get on with it, then.’

  Highson said nothing as they resumed their journey.

  For a brief instant, as he pulled his own hood tighter around his ears, Sal heard the sound of mocking laughter on the wind, but it was gone before he could ask the others if they had heard it too.

  The half-moon cast a cold, silver light over the face of the mountain. The route they followed was less a path than a series of goat tracks occasionally used by humans too. Below, at the base of the cliff, huddled a tiny village where they had paused briefly to reprovision. Its lanterns were barely visible, shuttered against sinister forces supposedly abroad on the mountains: Sal and his companions had been viewed as such, and had never completely earned the villagers’ trust.

  Kail said that Shilly and the man'kin had taken a route straight up the sheer cliff looming over the small settlement. The man'kin had casually scaled an edifice that Sal could barely climb, let alone quickly enough to catch up. His life in the flat coastal Strand had never prepared him for this. Highson fared little better. Only Kail—with his lifetime of outdoor experience—had any knowledge of climbing, but even he struggled, his Sky Warden training next to useless in the mountains.

  At the top of the cliff, when they finally reached it, there were no more arguments. Sal was glad to help Highson and Kail unfurl the tent and crawl inside. Sleeping close together for warmth as the wind howled outside, they had no energy for disagreements. There was only well-earned rest, as dreamless and barren as the mountain face itself.

  That wasn't true, Sal told himself as he drifted off. Life struggled, but the mountain was no more barren than a desert. Just that day, he had found a spray of bright blue flowers growing from a niche between two giant slabs of black rock. Tiny red ants crawled up and down the flower stems. A fragile spider web connected the two slabs further up. Even in such extreme conditions, nature found its way.

  He would find a way too. He wouldn't give up. The m
an'kin did have to stop eventually, and Shilly with them; she couldn't climb even a metre with her bad leg the way it was. And when he caught up with her—

  That was where his thoughts always froze. What happened then? Rescue her? Berate her? Argue with her over how the world would end?

  Sal thrust all thought of Tom's prophecy from his mind. He would worry about that later. For now, he needed only to rest.

  He woke at dawn. The air inside the tent was thick with the smell of the three unwashed men it sheltered. He could tell from the rhythm of Kail's breathing that the tracker was also awake. In wordless agreement, they waited until Highson stirred before making any move to rise.

  Kail may have been the eldest by at least two decades but he wasn't remotely the weakest. Sal's father was still recovering from his close encounter with death while chasing the Homunculus across the Strand's parched hinterland.

  After breaking their fast and stowing their gear, Kail scouted the top of the cliff in search of the man'kin trail. The broad-brimmed hat he wore in preference to a hood gave him a dark halo and left his face in shadow. Less than a minute passed before he called Sal and Highson over.

  ‘Well, we didn't lose them,’ he said, pointing out the crushed pebbles and heavy scrapes indicating the passage of their quarry. ‘That's something.’

  The way ahead looked easier than yesterday's climb. That was something else to be thankful for. A winding ridge led up to the meeting point of two broad expanses. There the ridge became a valley that snaked higher up into the massive mountain range. The tracks of the man'kin clearly went that way, stretching to the limit of Sal's sight. The sun was still hidden behind the mass of stone to the east; more tracks would become apparent towards noon, when the day was at its brightest. They would reach the valley by then, if Sal's new knowledge of mountain trekking could be trusted. Should any surprises lie in wait for them there, that would be good timing.

  ‘Let's get moving,’ he said, not seeing any point in delay. If the way ahead was easier for them, it would also have been easier for the man'kin.

  Highson tipped the dregs of his tea onto the grey stone. Thick stubble painted his dark face black and grey. ‘What day is this?’

  ‘Day six.’ Kail shrugged into his pack and flexed his long limbs. His dark eyes perfectly matched the stony vista around them.

  ‘My calluses are getting calluses.’ Sal's father stowed his cup in his pack and lifted it onto his shoulders. ‘Okay. I'm ready.’

  Sal brought up the rear, watching his footing on the ridge as closely as he would have on a cliff. The slopes to either side were steep and the safety rope connecting him to Highson and Kail would mean little if he dragged them both after him.

  The steady crunching of their footsteps on cold stones was the only sound they made that morning.

  At noon, on schedule, they reached the entrance to the valley and stopped briefly to reconsider their options. A chill wind blew from far above down the V-shaped channel of stone, directly into their faces. Yet another thing that wouldn't have bothered the man'kin, Sal thought. The skin of his cheeks was peeling; his eyes felt like pickled onions. The scarf wrapped around his face barely kept the worst of it at bay.

  Looking up the valley to where the pallid sun was peering down the face of the mountains, a trick of perspective made him feel profoundly dizzy, as though the world were turning upside down. He staggered back a step, into Kail, and looked hastily at the ground.

  ‘You're feeling it too, huh?’ The tracker's chapped lips formed the words without any sign of surprise or dismay. ‘Mountain fever, my teacher used to call it. Never thought I'd experience it myself.’

  Highson was panting heavily. ‘Can't seem to catch my breath.’

  ‘It's going to get worse,’ Kail declared. ‘We need to watch out for each other. At the slightest sign of real disability, we stop to rest.’

  ‘Is there anything else we can do?’ asked Sal, thinking of the man'kin's lead.

  ‘Yes. Give up and turn back.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I knew you were going to say that.’ Kail took a swig from his water bottle. ‘You do need to be aware, however, that it remains an option.’

  ‘Not for me. You can turn back if you want to, but I'm going on.’

  ‘You can't do this on your own,’ said Highson from beneath his hood.

  ‘I will if I have to.’

  ‘That would be stupid. You'd kill yourself.’

  Anger flared in Sal like kindling bursting into flame. ‘Don't you tell me what's stupid or not. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. I'd be back home in Fundelry with Shilly, safe and warm. There'd be no Homunculus, no man'kin, no fucking mountains to climb. Why couldn't you have stayed in the Haunted City like you were supposed to?’

  ‘You know why, Sal.’

  ‘Sure. My mother. You should have given up on her like you did before.’

  Highson stared up at him, unblinking. ‘I tried to save her for you.’

  ‘No. Don't lie about that. You have no idea what I wanted. You tried to bring her back for you.’

  ‘For both of us, then. Do you blame me for trying?’

  Sal threw his hands up in exasperation, at himself and at Highson both. What was the point in going over this? His mother was long dead. Only Highson with his bold and stupid plan of resurrecting her from the Void Beneath had thought otherwise. If he hadn't built the Homunculus to act as her new body, the twins would have had nowhere to go. And if the twins hadn't left the Void Beneath…

  ‘We're back here again,’ said Kail, watching them both with hands on hips. ‘What is it with you two and blame? In the long run, it doesn't make any difference.’

  ‘It makes all the difference,’ said Sal.

  ‘No, it doesn't. If you get to my age, you'll realise. And you'll never get to my age if you go charging up this mountain on your own. Highson's right on that score and I think you know it.’

  Sal looked down at his feet. The emotions boiling in him were hard to control sometimes, but he rarely exploded so violently. Mountain fever clearly didn't improve his temper.

  ‘Do you really think we should go back?’ he asked Kail.

  ‘I don't, Sal. I never said I did.’ The tracker's long face was even more weathered than usual. In just five days, the trek had added new lines around his mouth and eyes. He too was recovering from injury; sometimes that showed in a certain stiffness when he moved. ‘I want to see where the man'kin are heading as much as you do.’

  ‘Good.’ Sal felt bad, then, for getting angry. Highson and Kail were on his side. They weren't his enemies.

  Something obscured the sun for a split second. He looked up, expecting to see clouds overhead. But the sky was clear of any but the faintest wisps, as it had been since they'd emerged from the cloudline the previous day. Perfectly clear, in fact.

  Now my eyes are going, he told himself.

  ‘Let's rest,’ he said, tugging the pack from his shoulders with a sigh and stretching out flat on the ground. Even through numerous layers of clothing the stone was cold against his back and backside, but it helped clear his head. Six days of walking and climbing were just the beginning: he had to tell himself that or else the next six might drive him mad, for it could well take him that long or more to catch up with Shilly. However, the chance remained that the man'kin's destination was just at the end of this valley, or perhaps the next one. He might stumble across her tomorrow or the day after. Hope warred with despair, leaving him feeling very battered between them.

  Somehow he nodded off, and woke to Kail's hand shaking his shoulder. Less than half an hour had passed but his muscles seemed to have completely seized. Hobbling like an old man, he set off after the others under sunlight so weak he could barely feel its warmth on his cheeks.

  The beast surprised them shortly after nightfall. At the summit of the valley, the path had soon devolved into a series of switchbacks and rockfalls, the latter probably triggered by the man'kin as they had passed through. N
egotiating them consumed a large proportion of the fading light and left Sal and his companions even more exhausted than they had been the previous night. The Change was strong in them, but there were limits. The wardens in particular had little dominion over stone, leaving Sal to do any heavy lifting required.

  By mirrorlight there was only so much progress to be made. Even Sal could see that. Disturb the wrong rockpile and the whole mountainside could come down on top of them as it had for Kail not so long ago.

  Wiping his dusty gloves on his outermost pants and wishing, not for the first time, for a hot bath, Sal took the tent roll from Kail and prepared to unfold it.

  A rattle of stones from further uphill prompted him to look up. A pair of wide eyes gleamed back at him. Seen, the creature abandoned stealth and bounded downslope towards the camp. Barely had Sal uttered a warning cry when it lifted off all fours and leapt right for him.

  Reflected light flared from sharp claws and teeth. The animal landed bodily on Sal, knocking him clear off his feet and squeezing the air from his lungs. Hot fluid gushed over him. His mouth filled with a salty copperiness that instantly made him gag. For too long he flailed helplessly at the beast before remembering the Change. He was weak after the day's exertions, but strong enough. With a flash of burning fur and blood, the beast flew away from him and into solid stone. The smack of its flesh sickened him as much as the taste of its blood.

  Hands clutched at him. ‘Sal, are you all right?’ Highson pulled him to his feet.

  Sal pushed the hands away. ‘I—I think so. Goddess!’ He spat. By the light of a brightly shining mirror, he wiped at his face and chest. Blood as black as the sky above had soaked through layers of wool almost as far as his skin. ‘What happened? What is that thing?’

  The body lay limp on its side five metres away. ‘It's a Shiva bear,’ said Kail, crossing to inspect it. ‘A hungry one, by the look of it. They normally hunt on moonless nights. This one must've been desperate.’