Shadows Beneath: The Writing Excuses Anthology

by Brandon Sanderson, Mary Robinette Kowal, Dan Wells, Howard Tayler

  ​ ​ ​ ​SixthDusk continued on his way. The womanVathi followed. He would need her, though a treacherous piece of him whispered that she would be easy to end. With her would go her questions, and more importantly, her answers. The ones he suspected she was very close to discovering.

  ​ ​ ​ ​You cannot change it. . . .

  ​ ​ ​ ​He could not. He hated that it was so. He wanted so badly to protect this island, as his kind had done for centuries. He worked this jungle, he loved its birds, was fond of its scents and sounds—despite all else. How he wished he could not, but he could not.prove to Patji that he and the others were worthy of these shores.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Perhaps. Perhaps then . . .

  ​ ​ ​ ​Bah. Well, Kkilling this woman would accomplish nothingnot provide any real protection for the island. Besides, had he sunk so low that he would takemurder a helpless scribe and murder her in cold blood? He would not even do that to another trapper, unless they approached his camp and did not retreat.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“The blossoms can think,” he found himself saying as he turned them away from a mound that showed the tuskrun pack had been rooting here. “The Fingers of Patji. They trees themselves are not dangerous, even when blooming—but they attract predators like, imitating the thoughts of a wounded animal, which has thoughts that is full of pain and worry. The predators fight one another, sometimes, and the tree feeds off of the corpses. That is what you saw growing beneath the man’s body.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Vathi gasped. “A plant,” she said, “that broadcasts a mental signature? Are you certain?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Yes.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I need one of those blossoms.” The light shook as she turned to go back.

  ​ ​ ​ ​SixthDusk spun and caught her by the arm. “No. We are not here to collect samples. We must keep moving.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“But—”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“You will have another chance.” He took a deep breath. “Your people will soon infest this island like maggots on carrion. You will see other trees. Tonight, we must go. Dawn is approachinges.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​He let go of her and turned back to his work. He had judged her wise, for a homaeinisler. Perhaps she would listen.

  ​ ​ ​ ​She did. She followed behind, walking quietly.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Patji’s Fingers. First of the Sky, the dead trapper, should not have died in that place. Truly, the trees were not that dangerous. They lived by opening many blossoms and attracting predators to come feast. The predators would then fight one another, and the tree would feed off the corpses. Sky must have stumbled across a tree as it was beginning to flower, and got caught in what came.

  ​ ​ ​ ​His Aviar had not been enough to shield so many open blossoms. Who would have expected a death like that? After years on the island, surviving much more terrible dangers, to be caught by those simple flowers. It almost seemed a mockery, on Patji’s part, of the poor man.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Dusk and Vathi’s path continued, and soon grew steeper. They’d need to go uphill for a while before crossing to the downward slope that would lead to the other side of the island. Their trail, fortunately, would avoid Patji’s main peak—the point of the wedge that jutted up the easternmost side of the island. His camp had been near the south, and Vathi’s would be to the northeast, letting them skirt around the base of the wedge before arriving on the other beach.

  ​ ​ ​ ​They fell into a rhythm, and she was quiet for a time. Eventually, atop a particularly steep incline, he nodded for a break and squatted down to drink from his canteen. On Patji one did not simply sit, without care, upon a stump or log to rest.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Consumed by worry, and not a little frustration, he didn’t notice what Vathi was doing until it was too late. She’d found something tucked into a branch—a long colorful feather. A mating plume.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Dusk leaped to his feet.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Vathi reached up toward the lower branches of the tree.

  ​ ​ ​ ​A set of spikes on ropes dropped from a nearby tree as Vathi pulled the branch. They swung down as Dusk reached her, one arm thrown in the way. A spike hit, the long, thin nail ripping into his skin and jutting out the other side, bloodied, and stopping a hair from Vathi’s cheek.

  ​ ​ ​ ​She screamed.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Many predators on Patji were hard of hearing, but still that wasn’t wise. Dusk didn’t care. He yanked the spike from his skin, unconcerned with the bleeding for now, and checked the other spikes on the drop-rope trap.

  ​ ​ ​ ​No poison. Blessedly, they had not been poisoned.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Your arm!” Vathi said.

  ​ ​ ​ ​He grunted. It didn’t hurt. Yet. She began fishing in her pack for a bandage, and he accepted her ministrations without complaint or groan, even as the pain came upon him.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I’m so sorry!” Vathi sputtered. “I found a mating plume! That meant an Aviar nest, so I thought to look in the tree. Have we stumbled across another trapper’s safecamp?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​She was babbling out words as she worked. Seemed appropriate. When he grew nervous, he grew even more quiet. She would do the opposite.

  ​ ​ ​ ​She was good with a bandage, again surprising him. The wound had not hit any major arteries. He would be fine, though using his left hand would not be easy. This would be an annoyance. When she was done, looking sheepish and guilty, he reached down and picked up the mating plume she had dropped.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“This,” he said with a harsh whisper, holding it up before her, “is the symbol of your ignorance. On the Pantheon Islands, nothing is easy, nothing is simple. That plume was placed by another trapper to catch someone who does not deserve to be here, someone who thought to find an easy prize. You cannot be that person. Never move without asking yourself, is this too easy?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​She paled. Then she took the feather in her fingers.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Come.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​He turned and walked on their way. That was the speech for an apprentice, he realized. Upon their first major mistake. A ritual among trappers. What had possessed him to give it to her?

  ​ ​ ​ ​She followed behind, head bowed, appropriately shamed. She didn’t realize the honor he had just paid her, if unconsciously. They walked onward, an hour or more passing.

  ​ ​ ​ ​By the time she spoke, for some reason, he almost welcomed the words breaking upon the sounds of the jungle. “I’m sorry.,” she finally said.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“You need not be sorry,” he said. “Only careful.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I understand.” She took a deep breath, following behind him on the path. “And I am sorry. Not just about your arm. About this island. About what is coming. I think it inevitable, but I do wish that it did not mean the end of such a grand tradition.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I . . .”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Words. He hated trying to find words.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“It . . . was not dusk when I was born,” Sixthhe finally said, then hackeding down a swampvine, then holding and held his breath against the noxious fumes that it released toward him a moment later. They were only dangerous for a few moments.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Excuse me?” Vathi asked, keeping her distance from the swampvine. “You were born . . .”

  ​ ​ ​ ​He looked over, meeting her eyes in the frail lanternlight. “My mother did not name me for the time of day. It was not dusk, not in the day of my birth. I was named because my mother saw the dusk of our people. The sun will soon set on us, she often told me.” He turned, looking up toward the dark canopy. “I guess it has finally done just that.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​He looked back to Vathi., letting her pass him and enter a small clearing.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Oddly, she smiled at him. Perhaps she realized he Why had shared something personal.he found those words to speak? He followed into the clearing, concerned at himself. He had not spokgive
n those words to his uncle; only his parents had knoewn the source of his name.

  ​ ​ ​ ​He was not certain why he’d told this scribe from an evil company. But . . . it did feel good to have said them.

  ​ ​ ​ ​A nightmaw broke through between two trees behind Vathi.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The enormous beast would have been as tall as a tree if it had stood upright on two legs. Instead, it leaned forward in a prowling posture, powerful legs behind bearing most of its weight, its two clawed forelegs ripping up the ground as. Iit reached forward its long neck, open beak on the endopen, razor-sharp and deadly. This was the closest he had ever seen one. It looked kind of like a bird, —in the same way that a wolf looked like a lapdog.

  ​ ​ ​ ​He threw his machete. An instinctive reaction, for he did not have time for thought. He did not have time for fear. That snapping beak—as tall as a door—would have the two of them dead in moments.

  ​ ​ ​ ​His machete glanced off of the beak, and actually cutting it the creature on the side of the head. That drew its attention, making it hesitate for just a moment. SixthDusk leaped for Vathi,. She stepped back from him, setting the butt of her tube against the ground. He needed to pull her away, to—

  ​ ​ ​ ​The explosion deafened him.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Smoke burst into the air frombloomed around Vathi, who stood—wide eyed—having dropped the lantern, oil spilling from the ground. The sudden sound stunned himDusk, and he almost collided with her as the Nnightmaw slumplurched ed and fell, skidding, the ground thumping from the impact.

  ​ ​ ​ ​SixthDusk found himself on the ground. He had tripped. He scrambled to his feet, backing away from the twitching Nnightmaw mere feet in front ofinches from him. The Lit by flickering lanternlight, it was already dying. He couldn’t look toward the fallen lantern, though. He stared at the beast in front of him, all leathery skin that was prickled and bumpy, like that beneathof a bird thatwho had lost itsher feathers.

  ​ ​ ​ ​It was dead. SheVathi had killed it.

  ​ ​ ​ ​VathiShe said something.

  ​ ​ ​ ​SheVathi had killed a nightmaw.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“SixthDusk!” Hher voice seemed distant.

  ​ ​ ​ ​He raised a hand to his forehead, which had belatedly begun to prickle with sweat. His bodywounded arm throbbed, but he was otherwise tense,. hHe felt as if he should be running. He had never wanted to be so close to one of these. Never.

  ​ ​ ​ ​She’d actually killed it.

  ​ ​ ​ ​He turned toward her, his eyes wide. Vathi was trembling, but she covered it well. “WellSo, that worked,” she said. “We weren’t certain it would, even though we’d prepared these specifically for the nightmaws.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“It’s like a cannon,” SixthDusk said. “Like from one of the ships, only in your hands.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Yes.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​He turned back toward the beast. He had been wrong, earlier. ItActually, it wasn’t dead, not completely. It twitched, and let out a plaintive screech. That was soft, though. He could make out the large hole in its breast as he walked around it; the that shocked him, even with his hearing muffled. The weapon had fired athat spear of some sort that had gone right into itthe beast’s chest. It

  ​ ​ ​ ​The nightmaw quaked and thrashed a weak leg. It wasn’t dead yet, but it soon would be.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“We could kill them all,” SixthDusk said, still feeling stunned. He turned, then rushed over to Vathi, taking her bywith his right hand, the arm that wasn’t wounded. “With those weapons, we could kill them all. Every nightmaw. Maybe the shadows too!”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Well, yes, it has been discussed. However, they are important parts of the ecosystem on these islands. Removing the apex predators could have undesirable results.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Undesirable results?” SixthDusk ran his left hand through his hair. “They’d be gone. All of them! I don’t care what other problems you think it would cause. They would all be dead.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Vathi snorted, picking up the lantern and stamping out the fires it had started. “I thought trappers were connected to nature.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“We are. That’s how I know we would all be better off without any of these things.” No more nightmaws. What a different world it would be.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“You are disabusing me of many romantic notions about your kind, SixthDusk,” she said, circling the dying beast. “I wish we had time . . . Nobody has ever been able to study one of these up close.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“With those weapons, you should have plenty of chances.” SixthDusk whistled, holding up his arm. Kokerlii fluttered down from high branches; in the chaos and explosion, SixthDusk had not seen the bird fly away. Sak still clung to his shoulder with a death grip, her claws digging into his skin through the cloth. He hadn’t noticed.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Kokerlii landed on his arm and gave an apologetic chirp.

  ​ ​ ​ ​ “It wasn’t your fault,” SixthDusk said soothingly. “They prowl the night. Even ifwhen they cannot sense our minds, they can hear us, smell us.” Nightmaws did not have good vision, nor was their hearing excellent. Their sense of smell, however, was said to be incredible. This one had come up the trail behind them; it must have crossed their pasth and followed it.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Dangerous. His uncle always claimed the Nnightmaws were growing smarter, that they knew they could not hunt men only by their minds. I should have taken us across more streams, SixthDusk thought, reaching up and rubbing Sak’s neck to soothe her. There just isn’t time. . . .

  ​ ​ ​ ​His bodycorpse lay wherever he looked. Draped across a rock, hanging from the vines of trees, slumped beneath the dying Nnightmaw’s claw . . .

  ​ ​ ​ ​The beast trembled once more in what seemed a final way, then amazingly it lifted its gruesome head and let out a last screech. Not as loud as those that normally sounded in the night, but bone-chilling and horrid. SixthDusk stepped back despite himself, and Sak chirped nervously.

  ​ ​ ​ ​In the night, distant, oOther Nnightmaw screeches rose in the night, distant.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Sixth twisted his head to the side, stumbling backward, looking out into that deep blackness. At least five other beats sounded in the night. That sound . . . he had been trained to recognize that sound as the sound of death.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“We’re going,” he said, stalking across the ground and pulling Vathi away from the dying beast, which had lowered its head and fallen silent. It might be dead. It no longer moved.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“SixthDusk?” She did not resist as he pulled her away, though she did look over her shoulder at the monster.

  ​ ​ ​ ​One of the other nightmaws sounded again in the night. Was it closer? Oh, Patji, Sixthplease, Dusk thought. No. Not this.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Come!” he said, pullingHe pulled her faster and, reaching for his machete at his side, but it was not there. He had thrown it. He did not go back for it; hHe took out the one he had gathered from his fallen rival and began to hack at leaves, only when necessary, then dragged her out of the clearing, back into the jungle, moving quickly. He could no longer worry about brushing against deathants.

  ​ ​ ​ ​A greater danger was coming.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The calls of death came again.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Are those getting closer?” Vathi asked.

  ​ ​ ​ ​SixthDusk did not answer. It was a question, but one he did not know the answer to. At least his hearing was recovering. He released her heand, moving more quickly, almost at a trot—faster than he ever wanted to go through the jungle, day or night.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“SixthDusk!” Vathi hissed. “Will they come? To the call of the dying one? Is that something they do?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“How should I know?” he snapped, turning back on her. “I have never known one of them to be killed before.” He saw the tube, again carried over her shoulder, lit by the light of the lant
ern she carried.

  ​ ​ ​ ​That gave him pause., Tthough his instincts screamed at him to keep moving, and he paused. The weapon. He felt a fool. They had a weapon that could kill nightmaws! That such a thing existed still amazed him.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Your weapon,” he said. “You can use it again?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Yes,” she said. “Once more.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Once more?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​A half dozen screeches sounded in the night.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Yes,” she replied. “I only brought three of spears this thing fires, and enough powder for three shots. I tried firing one at the shadow. It didn’t do much.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​One more attack. So his instincts were right. He spoke no further, ignoring his wounded arm—the bandage was in need of changing—and towing her intothrough the jungle as those. The calls came again and again. Agitated. How did one escape Nnightmaws? His Aviar clung to him, onea bird on each shoulder. He had to leap over his corpse periodically as they traversed a gulch and came up the other side.

  ​ ​ ​ ​How do you escape them? Hhe thought, remembering his uncle’s training. You don’t draw their attention in the first place!

  ​ ​ ​ ​They were fast. Kokerlii would hide his mind from them, but if they picked up his trail at the dead one . . .

  ​ ​ ​ ​Water. He stopped in the night, turning right, then left. Where would he find a stream? Patji was an island. Fresh water came from rainfall, mostly. The largest lake . . . the only one, really . . . was up the wedge. Toward the peak.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Patji was shaped something like a wedge. Along the eastern side, the island rose to some heights with cliffs on all sides. It was not terribly tall, but was elevated further than the rest of the island. Rainfall collected there, in Patji’s Eye, and could not escape except slowly. The river, was his tears.

  ​ ​ ​ ​It was a dangerous place to go, with Vathi in tow. Their path had skirted the slope up the heights, heading across the island toward the northern beach. It would only be a small diversionThey were close. . . .

  ​ ​ ​ ​Those screeches behind spurred him on. Patji would just have to forgive me, he thought, him for what came next. Dusk seizinged Vathi’s hand and towinged her in a slightly differentmore eastern direction. She did not complain, though she did keep looking over her shoulder.