The Devoured Earth

by Sean Williams

  ‘You've rumbled me, Abi Van Haasteren,’ he replied, sending his message through the Caduceus fragment, finding it easier than he had expected. The Surveyor must have been seeking the missing piece with considerable will to open such a clear link from such a great distance, ‘but I'm afraid this isn't a good time to give my confession.’

  ‘It's not a confession I'm after, you fool,’ she snapped. ‘It's your senses. Now, clear your mind. I know you can do this because you let Sal in Laure.’

  ‘Wait—’ His protest was completely subsumed by the force of the woman's directive. Not just hers, he sensed, even as he was tossed helplessly into the sudden unfamiliarity of his own skull. There were others Taking behind her, in a vast network the like of which he had never experienced before. He felt dozens of Stone Mages watching through her and in turn through him. And behind them were Sky Wardens and bloodletters and foresters, and people with no clearly recognisable discipline. Somewhere—perhaps everywhere, all across the Earth—a vast crowd had gathered to see the unfolding events through his eyes.

  ‘That's it.’ Abi Van Haasteren's tone didn't lose an iota of its urgency, but she at least attempted to reassure him. ‘I'm sorry to be so rough. We've been trying to get your attention for days now.’

  Even as he felt his eyes tugged upwards, to a thread of blackness descending to kill him, he couldn't repress the need to know ‘Why?’

  ‘The seers have gone blind. All of them. The only vision they're receiving now is of the mountains, where you just happen to be. We know you're there because Marmion and Kelloman have both asked for help in the last day. No one believed them, thinking the problem's source had to lie closer to home. We didn't realise then that everyone had the same problem, not just wardens and mages. Marmion and Kelloman stopped asking, but people remembered once the news started to spread. And then the seers started seeing again. The mountains. The end of our world. A new Cataclysm, or something just as bad. We need to know what's going on.’

  ‘Well, now you see.’ He couldn't help sounding churlish. ‘You're just in time to watch us die.’

  ‘That thing up in the sky—what is it?’

  ‘The thing that's going to kill us. Now get out of my head and let me get out of its way.’

  The surveyor retreated, and the mob behind her went as well. He found himself back in control of his body and in full possession of his senses. Noises hit him first—the sound of shouting and the strange complaint of the sky as it bore the presence of Yod. The black tentacle had been joined by two more. All three angled in from different directions and would strike at different times.

  He withdrew his hand from the pouch and let himself be jostled into a group with the others. There was nothing else he could do. To his right loomed the glowing shape of the Goddess's Tomb. Inside he glimpsed the indistinct shapes of those who had remained behind, either by choice or at the Goddess's instructions. Marmion stood on his left, gripping Highson's parchment with his hands, both real and ghostly. Further along the wall waited Kelloman, one fist clutching the raw golden Homunculus, his incongruously young head turned up to the sky.

  The first tentacle would arrive in seconds, and it was headed right for Kail and the others. Lidia Delfine and Heuve reached for each other's hands and clasped tight. Griel growled low and wordlessly. A sharp smell of urine came from Orma, but the young Ice Eater held his ground. Kail took his shoulder in one hand.

  Then suddenly the glast was among them, its glassy darkness reflecting the half-light of the cloudy day. Yod's deadly tentacle changed course in an instant, curling around them to pass over Marmion's head. The bald warden ducked automatically, taken off-guard, and Kelloman tensed, ready to run, but the ‘head’ of the tentacle swept harmlessly down the side of the tower. Its tail licked half-heartedly at the huddle protected by the glast, but did no more than threaten.

  ‘This one!’ called Marmion to Kelloman, pointing at the next tentacle on its way. His words barely carried through the thin, cold air. ‘Stand fast and do as Highson told us. It should pass by us both!’

  A cry of alarm came from the Tomb as the men acting as bait readied themselves. Kail glanced away to see a small shape scurrying across the tower wall with ears and skender tail upraised.

  ‘Catch it!’ Skender cried. ‘Don't let it go to him!’

  Kail realised then what had happened. The bilby had escaped from the Tomb and was running to its master. Kail lunged at it as it went by him, but it easily evaded his clumsy grab. Marmion missed it, too.

  ‘Wretched thing,’ Kelloman cursed as both the bilby and the tentacle converged on him.

  ‘Ignore it,’ Marmion warned him. ‘Ignore it!’

  The tentacle came along the top of the tower wall, flying a metre above the naked stone. It would pass by Kelloman first, then Marmion, then be turned away by the glast before it reached Kail and the others.

  Kelloman scooped up the bilby when it reached him, and looked torn. Kail could see the dilemma written clearly across his face. To stand and do his job regardless, and kill the bilby in the process—for it, unlike him, couldn't mentally leap away to safety—or to find some way to save the creature. Which would he choose?

  For a moment he stood firm, holding the golden orb before him like a talisman in one hand and clutching the bilby to his chest in the other. The tentacle was a heartbeat away. Then, in desperation, he turned and threw the bilby towards Marmion. The warden reached awkwardly to catch it, and dropped the parchment in the process.

  Two things happened simultaneously. Kelloman collapsed to the stone as the tentacle engulfed him and the golden orb, and the wind tugged the parchment towards the edge of the wall.

  There was no time to think. A gust of wind pulled the parchment further out of Marmion's grasp but closer to Kail. Kail's feet were moving before he'd considered his final destination. The bilby chirruped in the warden's tight grip. Kail lunged at the parchment just as it reached the edge. He went sprawling over the cold, hard stone. Pain flared in his ribs and back. His outstretched hand caught the parchment just before it disappeared and pulled it back from the brink.

  Marmion threw the bilby to the cluster of people protected by the glast. Kail held up the parchment and felt it snatched out of his grasp by Marmion's invisible fingers. The old wound in his chest stung, but he ignored it as the Death bore down on them both.

  He stayed low, hoping it would pass overhead. Marmion dropped likewise, keeping his invisible hand firmly upraised, clutching the parchment. The black tentacle made no sound as it passed above them, but Kail distinctly felt Marmion shudder as it swept through the ghostly flesh of his hand. His arm came back down. The parchment was gone. The tail of the tentacle swept harmlessly by.

  Somehow, against all odds, they were still alive.

  ‘It's done?’ he asked Marmion, who had collapsed next to him, breathing heavily.

  ‘All that can be,’ the bald warden said, rubbing worriedly at the stump of his injured arm. ‘It's gone. The Death took it.’

  ‘That's the least of our worries. What about Yod? What's going to happen now?’

  ‘Your guess, my friend, is as good as mine.’

  Marmion struggled to his feet, looking anxiously up at the sky. Kail did likewise. A screaming sound, as of the sky tearing open, was building above. The tentacles were visibly retracting into the core body, leaving the third that had menaced them a threat no longer. The light changed from the weak grey of a rainy day to a sickly purple, as though a thunderstorm was about to break.

  ‘Kelloman,’ he said, nodding to where the mage's body lay on its side further along the wall. ‘We can't leave him there.’

  ‘It's not him,’ Marmion said. ‘It was just a host body.’

  ‘Regardless. For the bilby's sake.’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ With poor grace, Marmion hurried with him to check the girl's body for signs of life. Kail found a weak pulse in the girl's wrist. That was enough. Kail took her feet and Marmion her shoulders. Together they carried her
to where the others waited.

  ‘Do you think Mage Kelloman made it out in time?’ asked Lidia Delfine, clutching the wriggling bilby tight in her grasp.

  ‘We'll find out later, I guess.’ Marmion hurried them towards the Tomb.

  ‘It's getting bigger,’ said Heuve, looking up.

  ‘Not bigger,’ said Marmion. ‘Closer.’

  Kail followed the direction of their gaze. It was true. Yod's central portion did seem to be getting larger, but that was an illusion. Instead of a bodiless form floating effortlessly in the sky, it was now a corporeal being, with a new shape and, most importantly, mass.

  ‘Hurry!’ he urged those ahead of him. The purple sky was becoming darker as Yod's shadow deepened. Eerie groaning became a deep wailing—of air complaining, Kail thought, at the unnatural stresses placed upon it by the falling body. Yod was as large as a mountain and no doubt as heavy. Everyone stood to be crushed to oblivion if they didn't move fast.

  Highson appeared at the entrance to the Tomb, arms reaching to help. Marmion gave him the shoulders of Kelloman's host body and began urging people ahead of him. Kail transferred the body's legs to Sal. Before he could follow, a stiff wind whipped across the lake, pulling him backwards. The noise had become painful.

  Kail, Marmion and the Angel were the only stragglers remaining outside when the first of Yod's falling tentacles hit the tower. A shockwave rushed through the stone, throwing both men off their feet. Marmion clutched at the entrance of the Tomb with the stump of his missing hand, but there was nothing left to grip with since the ghost limb had been devoured by Yod.

  Kail ignored the way the stone bucked beneath his knees and hands. Putting his shoulder into Marmion's armpit, he shoved the bald warden bodily closer to the Tomb. Hands clutched at them both. Voices calling encouragement went unheard under the booming of falling masonry. Kail felt the world drop out from beneath him as Marmion was lifted to safety. He snatched at Marmion's robe, but it whisked out of his grasp.

  Then all was shadow and noise. The pouch in his left hand buzzed for his attention. When he had reached for Marmion's robe with his right hand, he had wanted to throw the Caduceus fragment into the Tomb with his left, seeing the Goddess's face amongst the people inside and hearing her voice tell him from the previous night: I know what you carry around your neck. You mustn't lose it, no matter what happens. He might fall—weightless, for the second time in two days—but the pouch should not.

  He had been too slow. There was no time for regret. With the letter clutched tight in his fist, weightless, he thought only of home.

  ‘All things have a beginning, just as all things

  have an end. Some gods were born in fire, others

  in the womb of the Void. Some died alone while

  others were buoyed into oblivion by the prayers

  of millions. In that, as in so many ways, they

  were no different at all to us.’

  THE BOOK OF TOWERS, EXEGESIS 12:45

  Sal staggered backwards as Kail disappeared in a roar of noise. The Tomb bucked underfoot, sending everyone flying. He went down in a tangle of limbs, unable to keep hold of Kelloman's host body. He put his hands over his head and hoped not to land on anyone too hard.

  Then suddenly, all was silent and still outside the Tomb. Caught in time between Yod and the tower, the Goddess was giving them a moment to find purchase on the floor or each other. Sal found himself sprawled awkwardly across Vehofnehu and Tom. He helped the empyricist up and made sure Tom wasn't harmed in any visible way. The young seer slept on, impervious to the chaos around him.

  ‘What about Kail?’ Shilly was asking. ‘What about him?’

  ‘He's gone,’ said Marmion. ‘He was behind me when the tower fell. He helped me to safety, then he fell too.’

  ‘With the Angel,’ said Sal. He had clearly seen the giant man'kin tumble away. He looked around, seeking the glast. Mawson's head still hung safely in its tight grasp. Sal forced his way into the head's line of sight. ‘You exist outside of time. So does the Angel. Can you still talk to it? Do you know where it is?’

  ‘I can lead you there,’ Mawson said.

  ‘You don't think—’ Shilly began, hope beginning to shine through the horror in her eyes.

  ‘I'm not thinking anything,’ he said, ‘except that we should try.’

  She nodded and reached for his hand. ‘Yes.’ Of the Goddess, she asked, ‘Can we?’

  ‘We can if the way is clear. Guide me, Mawson. You're my only eyes through this mess.’

  Sal kept Shilly close by his side as the Tomb sought a path through the frozen tangle of Yod's tentacles and an avalanche of boulders. The deeper they went the darker it became, until the only light came from the Tomb itself.

  Time dragged, inside as well as out. Sal left Shilly's side to check on Kelloman's host body. Rosevear pronounced it in reasonable fitness, despite its passage through one of Yod's tentacles, but couldn't say whether Kelloman himself had survived.

  ‘Until he returns or we hear from him,’ said the healer, ‘it's impossible to tell.’

  Sal nodded. The bilby shivered in the crook of the host body's arm, entirely unaware of the chaos it had caused.

  ‘It's my fault,’ said Skender. ‘I should have stopped it faster.’

  ‘Maybe you should've,’ said Sal, ‘but it's not your fault.’

  Skender looked close to tears. ‘What if he's dead because of my mistake? What will that mean? I can't understand what she could want with someone like me.’

  He was talking about the Goddess, Sal realised. ‘Don't worry about it now,’ Sal told him. ‘There's nothing you can do. Beating yourself up about it doesn't help anyone.’

  ‘I know, but—’

  ‘Concentrate on Chu. She's someone you can help.’

  Skender nodded, eyes downcast, and went to the unconscious flyer.

  ‘What about you?’ asked Highson softly. ‘Do you need anything?’

  Sal looked up at his father, who sat near Kelloman's host body. Highson was rubbing his wrist, sprained in the chaos.

  ‘Me? I've got nothing to worry about.’

  Highson nodded at Shilly, who was staring with liquid eyes through the crystalline walls of the Tomb. Visible in a clump of debris was the Angel, missing its tail and one of its three legs.

  ‘The Angel says to leave it be,’ Mawson intoned. ‘Rescue is not required.’

  ‘But we could pull it inside,’ Shilly protested. ‘All we have to do is open a door and—’

  ‘The Angel will not die, even if its life here ends. Its life resonates through all possible moments. This is just one of them.’

  Shilly nodded. ‘All right. What about Kail, then? Does the Angel know where he is?’

  Mawson didn't reply.

  ‘I suggest we look up,’ the Goddess said. ‘He fell a second or so after the Angel, so he wouldn't have come this far.’

  Sal kneaded Shilly's shoulders as the Tomb nudged its way through clots of boulders and tentacles. Yod's flesh was caught in mid-transformation, losing its cloudy translucency and adopting a denser, more leathery texture. The width of its tentacles was increasing, too, just as their length decreased. Sal was reminded of a many-limbed sea creature retracting into itself when touched.

  It was still huge, however. Lurking ever-present at the side of Sal's thoughts was the question: And we're to kill this?

  ‘There,’ said Marmion, pointing up and to the right. ‘I think I see something.’

  The Goddess edged the Tomb in the direction indicated, and Sal saw what had caught the warden's eye: a hand sticking out of a cloud of rubble. A hand clutching a leather pouch.

  ‘That's him,’ said Shilly. ‘Can we go closer?’

  The Tomb came right up next to him. A hole opened in its side, allowing some of the debris into the charmed ambience within. Stones and dirt rattled to the floor, followed by Kail's arm. Highson and Marmion eased him free of the time-frozen rubble, centimetre by centimetre. Sal watched as the leat
her pouch slipped from Kail's limp fingers, and wasn't surprised when he saw blood on the tracker's clothing.

  Shilly didn't turn away, but she didn't come any closer, either. At the sight of his staved-in chest and twisted arm, she reached up and clutched Sal's arm. He didn't complain. Kail had come so close to death in the previous weeks that he had come to seem immortal: first the infected wound inflicted on him by the Swarm; then the avalanche; and then falling from Pukje's back. Now his luck had run out, and there was little else to say.

  ‘I'm sorry,’ Sal whispered into her ear. ‘He was a good man, and a good friend.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I wish I could have known him better.’

  The echo of Kail's comment about her—almost exactly the same, word for word—made Sal want to weep for what she would now never have.

  The Goddess stooped to pick up the pouch and gave it to Shilly. ‘We can grieve now or later,’ she said. ‘I think he'd want us to keep fighting.’

  ‘If there is a later,’ Shilly said, ‘we'll have to commit his ashes to the water somewhere. That's what Sky Wardens do.’ Her voice was flat, with all emotion carefully buried. ‘But not the lake. I don't think he'd like being here forever.’

  Marmion nodded and said, ‘Actually, I'm not sure water suits him at all.’

  ‘No, you're right. He was different from the rest of you, just like—’ She couldn't finish the sentence, but Sal knew what she had wanted to say. Like Lodo.

  At a gesture from the Goddess, the Tomb backed out of the clump of rubble and headed for clear air.

  They re-entered the world-line as soon as they cleared the last of the debris. Shilly watched with fingernails digging into her palms as time started up again outside the Tomb. The grotesque black shape hanging half-in, half-out of the sky recommenced its precipitous descent. From a distance, its fall looked almost tranquil, conducted through a gentle mist rising up from the lake's surface, as though in welcome. The raging noise and violence of that rubble-filled boundary still filled her head, however, and Kail's crushed body lay as a brutal reminder, should she ever forget.