The Storm Weaver & the Sand (Books of the Change)

by Sean Williams

  We’re going to make it!

  Then something grabbed him from below. Skender couldn’t tell what it was, at first, but it hauled them back down like a lead weight. They hung, wavering, above the Void, too heavy to rise any higher.

  He kicked and wriggled, tried to shake it free.

  Get off me, he yelled.

  No! The reply of the one who fought the world-eater was strident. I want to leave.

  Understanding dawned. You can’t, he shouted back. Where are you going to live? In my head?

  I don’t care. I don’t want to be forgotten!

  More weight pulled down on the three escapees as more lost minds attached themselves to the one who fought the world-eater.

  None of us want to be forgotten, they cried. Take us back! Take us back!

  What’s going on down there, Skender? called Sal from the top of the chain. Shilly can’t hold us forever.

  I know! Skender kicked harder, but the one who fought the world-eater was clinging tight. And if he kicked too hard he would lose his grip on Kemp and fall back into the Void. I can’t—shake them—free.

  Take us with you! Take us home!

  Just as the weight hanging off him began to become unbearable, something struck the one who fought the world-eater. The lost mind’s grip slipped slightly. She was struck a second time, and Skender kicked out as hard as he could. The grip of the one who fought the world-beast failed. Skender sensed the great pile of lost minds slipping and falling away below him. They were free.

  For one lingering moment, the lost mind that had struck the one who fought the world-beast rose alongside them. A new voice spoke out of the Void.

  I am the one who lost a son.

  She fell away.

  Remember me.

  Then Skender was being wrenched upward, out of the Void Beneath. The eternal hum rose again to an angry buzzing, as though their passing disturbed a swarm of bees. Then even that fell behind them—and everything was suddenly light and air and the taste of bile in his throat.

  The relief that rushed through him was profound. He had a throat! Even in the confusion of voices and hands clutching at him, choking noises and the strange smell of burning, Skender had time to scan his memory to see what it retained of his experiences in the Void. It was all there: the lost minds, their stories, the Oldest One, the twins. The one who lost a son.

  Remember me.

  He remembered. He remembered it all.

  He would never forget.

  Once he was sure of that, he let himself slump back into the arms of the person trying to sit him up. There would be time to talk about it later. For now, all he wanted to do was sleep. He was as exhausted as though he had run twice around the Haunted City, and not even the empty ache in his stomach could keep him awake.

  Soothing, silent darkness rushed over him, and he fell gratefully into it.

  Chapter 15. Waking In Pieces

  “Sal! Sal, can you hear me?”

  Someone shook his shoulder. It felt as though the entire world was shaking. He opened his eyes, but that only made things worse. A profusion of colours and shapes whirled before him. His gut muscles heaved, and the contents of his stomach filled his mouth in a vile rush. All the acidic nervousness and tension of their hours with the golem and the Golden Tower exploded out of him with all the strength left in his body.

  When it was over he sagged weakly into the hands that held him. He felt dead—or, at the very least, dying.

  “That was gross, Sal.” He felt Shilly right there beside him and wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or appalled. “I think it’s a good sign, though.”

  “What happened?” he gasped. His eyes still weren’t working properly. All he saw were blurry haloes spinning around him with disconcerting abandon. “Where am I?”

  “We’re out of the catacombs, by the tidepool. What’s left of the tidepool, anyway. We carried you up here, into the light.”

  Light. Yes. Wherever he was, the sun had risen.

  He had a vague memory of a golden glow that seemed to touch his mind before it hit his eyes.

  “We?” he asked.

  She hesitated. “Your trick worked. The wardens saw the steam boiling out of a fissure and sent someone to investigate. They were able to follow our footprints through the catacombs. They arrived just as Tom and I were trying to work out how to get you three to the surface. More wardens came when they called for help. It’s been very complicated.”

  Sal wanted to sit up, but he barely had the energy to speak.

  “What happened to me?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  He shook his head. There were numerous images jumbled together in his mind: the inside of the Golden Tower; some sort of creature made of ice; Mawson; the golem…He couldn’t put them together in a meaningful way.

  “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

  He thought hard. Mawson had been trying to show him how to close the Way. He and Skender had been concentrating on the pattern and finding it difficult without Shilly to help them. She and Tom had been inside the Tower, trying to retrieve Lodo’s body before they sealed the Tower shut. Then—

  Kemp. He remembered a different sort of light coming out of the catacombs, and the frightened but determinedly angry face of the albino behind it. He couldn’t remember Kemp’s exact words, but their intent was clear. What the hell did they think they were doing, going off in the middle of the night on some forbidden excursion? The bully from Fundelry had followed them and their fake attendant, not expecting to be led for miles underground, down frightening corridors filled with hideous faces and through torturous catacombs in which he could easily be lost forever. He would have turned back hours earlier, had not the need to find out what the truants were up to been so great. Kemp was supposed to make sure they didn’t get into trouble, after all. Something like this would reflect very badly on him. How dare they be so selfish and so stupid?

  Sal remembered the relief behind the anger. As self-righteous as he professed to be, Kemp had been glad that he was no longer alone.

  And then…?

  Sal wasn’t sure what had happened next. The charm Mawson taught them must have begun to work too well. He remembered a horrible feeling of collapse as the Way tried to slam shut on Shilly, Tom and the golem in Lodo’s body. Then Skender had gone and Shilly had appeared. Kemp must have gone, too, because he had a vague memory of Kemp and Skender together in the Way—but his view of them was restricted, as though seen through a porthole. There was something about the golem bumping into him, his concentration failing, a feeling of terrible desperation…

  Sal tried opening his eyes again. This time it worked. He was lying on the thin crescent of sandy beach beside the pool into which he had thrown the light-sink. A shaft of light angled down from the chink in the rock through which they had seen stars the previous night. Shilly was leaning over him, her short hair filthy and black bags under her eyes. She was studying his face, not his eyes, and her concerned expression softened when she realised that he was looking at her.

  “Did the Way collapse on us?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It spat out your bodies, but your minds were caught. You, Skender and Kemp—you were empty, burned out. I couldn’t feel you anywhere. I didn’t know what was going to happen to you. For all I knew, another golem was going to take you over, twist you into something like Lodo…” Shilly stopped and turned away. He groped weakly for her hand and held it in his.

  She continued after a moment. “When the wardens arrived, they said that you were in the Void, and that you might never return. We tried to find you, but it’s harder than it sounds. The Void is nowhere. How do you look nowhere for someone? If you hadn’t found us, you would’ve been lost forever.”

  “I found you?” he asked.

  She nodded. “They were telling me I should give up when y
ou suddenly appeared. Here.” She tapped her breastbone. “They followed the link between us and pulled you out. I felt you return. Your body went from being empty to full again—just like that. It was like someone turned the ignition on your old buggy. You and Kemp and Skender were back.”

  He shook his head, remembering nothing along those lines at all. “What happened to the golem?”

  “It got away.” Her dark-skinned face darkened even further. “I don’t know where it went.”

  “Mawson,” he said. “Ask Mawson to ask tash. We’ll find Lodo again. Don’t worry.”

  His attempt at reassurance seemed to amuse her. “You’re in no position to suggest anything right now, my friend. We’ve got to get you back to the surface where they can look at you properly. The wardens came down the fissure on ropes, and they’re going to get us out the same way. No one’s keen to go up the tunnel with the faces until they’re sure exactly what’s in there.”

  He nodded, fighting a wave of fatigue. He felt like she looked: utterly exhausted. And filthy. So much had happened in the previous twenty-four hours that he feared it might take weeks to sort it all out—if ever he could.

  Shapes in Sky Warden blue moved back and forth behind Shilly. Everything was going blurry again. Her lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. Her presence was warm and comforting next to him, though, and he didn’t fight oblivion as it rolled over him.

  We did it, he thought. I fulfilled the deal with the golem, and no one got killed. It had been close, but they’d come out the other side. For now, that was all that mattered.

  Shilly stayed by Sal as he was strapped to a wicker stretcher that was in turn tied securely to a dangling rope. The wardens shouted instructions up the fissure. The rope went taut. Slowly, carefully, Sal was hauled up toward the sky.

  Skender and Kemp would be next. All three of them, after waking messily from their brief comas, had fallen back into unconsciousness—but that was nothing to worry about, she was told. Warden Drillis, who had spearheaded the rescue attempt, had gone from a state of intense worry to one of cautious optimism as the condition of his charges became less critical. That reassured her more than mere words. She trusted him implicitly after the way he had helped her save her friends.

  No one returns from the Void, he’d said, when they’re in that deep. But he’d tried anyway. Even if it had been simply to humour her—to prove her wrong, despite her determination—she was still grateful. Without him, without the Change, she would have been helpless to do anything.

  And she would have been alone forever.

  “They’re going to be okay, now,” Drillis said to her as she watched Sal ascend. Short but solid, with skin the colour of water-stained wood, he had come silently up beside her. She didn’t know how much of his talent she had Taken while trying to haul Sal out of the Void, but he had never once protested.

  She nodded, blinking. The light was making her eyes sting. Now the emergency was over, she was beginning to catch up on the many aches and pains her body had accrued over the previous night.

  “I’d like to show you something,” he said, taking her by the arm and leading her around the curve of the beach. She followed curiously, despite her fatigue. The sand was heavily scuffed where the rescue party had walked, and sometimes run, while looking for Sal, Kemp and Skender. Otherwise the sand was relatively undisturbed, with just one wide trail corresponding to where the golem had led them across the beach to the catacombs entrance, and where Kemp had followed.

  So she thought at first. At the point where Sal and the golem had scuffled, another single set of tracks diverged from the rest. The prints weren’t human; they comprised four pointed toes in the shape of a backward-pointing triangle. The sand looked as though it had been chiselled where each toe had dipped into it.

  “Do you know what caused these?” asked Warden Drillis, pointing at the tracks.

  There was only one thing they could belong to. “The ice-creature,” she said. “The golem summoned something from one of the other cities inside the Tower. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It must have escaped in the confusion.”

  “Cities inside the Tower…” The warden looked at her questioningly, as though wondering if he’d heard right. Then he shook his head. “No, I believe you. After all I’ve seen, I’d be a fool not to. Can you describe this creature for me?”

  She tried as best she could, even though her mind shied away from the memory. The strongest image was of long, curving teeth like glass daggers, gleaming wetly in the Change-light.

  Drillis nodded when she was finished. “We’ll catch it, I’m sure. If it can actually survive here, it won’t evade us long.”

  A bedraggled younger warden came up to them and nervously interrupted. His uniform was salt-and mud-encrusted from the waist down. In one hand he held an improvised sack made out of thick cloth. Visible within the sack was something glowing brightly.

  “Found it, sir,” he said. “It’s cooled considerably.”

  “Good work.”

  Shilly looked past the young warden to what remained of the pool into which Sal had thrown the globe. It had boiled away to little more than a puddle surrounded by dried salt, seaweed and tiny dead fish. Its lowest points were still under some water, and one of these had been stirred up by the search for the globe. Long since unable to boil anything, the light-sink was gradually running out of stored energy and had become simply difficult to handle.

  “What would you like me to do with it, sir?”

  “Do you want it back, Shilly?” Drillis took the sack from the young warden and offered it to her. “I presume it belongs to you. You didn’t steal it from anyone, did you?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “My teacher gave it to Sal. He’s carried it everywhere since.” And he had. As much as Shilly had resented Sal for Lodo’s gift of the light-sink, she hadn’t envied him the extra weight in his pack. The globe was small but very heavy.

  “Here you go, then. You can give it back to him when he wakes up.”

  She took it from Drillis and held it to her chest. It was pleasantly warm and made her feel, obscurely, like weeping. She blinked the tears back, refusing to let the wardens see her vulnerability.

  “Are you afraid of heights?” asked Drillis, looking past her.

  “No,” she said.

  “Good, because it’s your turn to go up.”

  She turned. The harness was waiting, empty, on the sand. Skender and Kemp had been lifted up and out of sight. Tom and Aron stood nearby, Mawson at their feet.

  “They go first,” she said.

  “You’re needed at the top to explain what happened.”

  “I don’t care about that. It’s not their fault they got mixed up in this. I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure they’re safe.”

  Drillis shrugged. “It’s not my job to argue with you.” He gestured at Tom, and the young warden went to help him into the harness. Tom looked terrified as he was secured to the rope. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. At a tug from above, his feet lifted off the ground.

  Shilly went to stand next to Aron and Mawson. Sal’s enormous cousin was blinking slowly, struggling to keep his eyes open. Shilly put a hand on his arm.

  “Sleepy,” he said.

  “You can rest soon.” She felt the Change flowing through him, raw and uncomplicated by any sense that he should do anything with it. It was simply part of him, like an arm or an ear. “You did well today, Aron. I know how scared you were. We’re proud of you, all of us.”

  “Mawson?”

  “Yes, Mawson, too.”

  The blond giant smiled. They made an odd pair. Shilly had become so used to seeing them together that, separated, they looked slightly unnerving. She wasn’t used to being watched by both their eyes at once.

  “Do you mean to say,” asked the man’kin, “that I’m proud
of Aron, or that you’re proud of me?”

  “Well,” she said, transferring her hand to the man’kin’s shoulder, “I am grateful for your help. We couldn’t have closed the Way without you. But proud? I don’t think that’s the right word. You could have helped us a dozen times, and you didn’t. You either know something you’re not telling us, or you just don’t care. Either way, I think it makes sense to be wary of you.”

  “I have never said otherwise.”

  “That’s true.” The stone face was impassive. “Can you sense yadeh-tash?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it nearby?”

  “No.”

  “Could you help us find it, and the golem?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you? For Sal’s sake, if not for mine?”

  “Yes.”

  She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  The harness came back down, and it was Mawson’s turn to be taken to the cliff top. Aron and Shilly watched nervously as the man’kin ascended the crack between the rocks, spinning gently from side to side. She remembered its words when they had opened the Tower. She suspected that it had meant her to be reassured by them.

  You will do what you must do, regardless of what I say. You have no choice in this matter. Do not let your conscience be troubled.

  But she was troubled. Just because the golem had coerced them into doing something wrong didn’t mean that she could just forget it. Not knowing what they’d done, exactly, wasn’t making it easier. They’d opened the Tower—but to what purpose? So the golem could release the ice-creature? That didn’t seem terribly important.

  You have done something terrible, the Mage Erentaite had said. Perhaps they had undone it in time, but she didn’t know how to tell.

  One thing she was sure of, though: they hadn’t managed to escape. They were caught just as tightly as they had been before. She didn’t doubt that they would be put on even tighter leashes, once they returned to the Novitiate. Perhaps they would be separated, punished. If the ice-creature had gone on to hurt someone…