Fractured Everest Box Set

by D. H. Dunn

  “And Kater?”

  “My father used to say Kater might keep his people under his boot, but at least they knew whose boot it was. While Rogek Shad is a free society for the most part, everything in Nalam Wast is tightly controlled, and controlled by Kater himself. In the weeks since Kater’s disappearance, I suspect the situation in Nalam Wast is deteriorating.”

  That’s not good, Drew thought. Kater’s people were used to being tightly controlled, yet now they were unchecked. Had someone filled that power vacuum?

  “Did Kater live with his people in the city?”

  “Not technically,” Trillip said. “He does have a stronghold, but I am told he was rarely present in it. Kater was known to walk the streets of his city almost daily. If the Yeti attacked, Kater would be at the front of the charge. If the winter winds blew cold, he would light the town fires himself. He protected his people, even as he subjugated them. He provided structure and reliability.”

  “Kept the trains running on time, eh?”

  “I am sorry I do not understand the reference, Drew. But it is true that on both sides of the river there is a great deal of emotion about both Kater and Upala. Since they both went missing, I have noticed many people more willing to speak openly of it, a few even talk of reunification. For now, the soldiers of both cities have been holding the bridge and preventing crossings.”

  “You are giving me a lot of information here Trillip, which I appreciate. What I am not hearing is how you feel.”

  Trillip paused, taking a long sip of his tea before continuing.

  “I am not sure it would be appropriate, especially given your relationship with my lady.”

  “Trillip, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know. I only know three people from this world and you are one of them. By the end of the day we could be down there in Rogek Shad, among your people. I’d really value your opinion on what to expect and how you feel about all this.”

  Trillip took a deep breath and let it out slowly, crossing his hands behind his back. “I would have to say that while I understand the anger of people like Miss Merin who feel that Upala left her people to fend for themselves, I do not share this opinion. While it is unfortunate Upala has not connected with the very people who protect her work and knowledge, it is not the same as what Kater has done to Nalam Wast. I have seen what happens in that village and that is not I life I would covet. Their god may slay their enemies and shelter them from storms, but he also decides when they wake, what they eat and how they live. I prefer your ‘god on high’ who lets us solve our own problems even if she has allowed some within our ranks to accumulate too much influence.”

  He stood, looking out over the valley, shaking his head.

  “If I understood your metaphor Drew, I prefer to make my own train run on time. It is not a popular feeling, but it is mine.”

  Drew nodded. His stomach was in knots, his worry over the library attack and Sinar mixing with deeper concerns. Just how bad were things between Upala and the people she now hoped to reconcile with?

  And why, even with all these larger problems on his mind, could he not stop thinking about her?

  He looked back down into the valley, the path from the mountain leading towards the far-off specks of Rogek Shad and Nalam Wast. Drew suspected his answers were down there, even if he wasn’t ready for them.

  Chapter 9

  Nima’s feet hurt as both she and Tanira struggled to keep up with Val, always a few strides ahead of her as he ran towards his village.

  The path to Caenola had widened as they approached, and now Nima could see the evidence of the villagers’ passing. The golden grass and white trees of the Fields of Calm had been replaced by long sea grass that whistled in the wind. The path itself was becoming more sand that dirt, with each rolling hill their progress was slower.

  By the side of the makeshift road she’d see the occasional broken wheel from a cart, along the path itself were footprints and other signs of heavy foot traffic. The rolling hills still hid Caenola, but the wind brought signs to them.

  She could smell the fire, the smoke and char that were signs of the attack. Occasionally she would hear the snippets of a scream breaking through the wind. Each time she heard one, Val seemed to run even faster, challenging Nima to keep up with him.

  Tanira ran alongside her, seemingly unaffected by the exhaustion that Nima was struggling with. She supposed the woman boasted a knight’s training, and may have been taught how to pace herself over long distances. Her dark braided hair swung free in the wind, her cloak having been pulled back by the speed of her run. Her long knives were visible at her waist and she looked from side to side as if attackers might come from the fields at any moment.

  Val continued to charge forward like a man possessed. His skin seemed to hide his perspiration, but Nima could see his labored breathing. If they did not reach the village soon, she was worried he might fall over. Yet she said nothing, knowing if it were people she cared for in danger, there would be no slowing her progress.

  As they crested the next hill, the view of Caenola finally came into sight. The trail widened as it descended towards a large harbor, several kilometers across, by Nima’s guess. Two great cliff walls on either side framed the harbor like a crescent.

  The sight of the ocean brought a thrill to Nima, chills running over her skin.

  It was wider and vaster than anything she had ever seen. An expanse of blue and green dotted with white-capped waves, rolling steadily towards the ivory sands. It went on forever, unmarked or blemished by any land after the harbor, a perfect plain of water upon which the reflection of the sun danced.

  Yet there was smoke in the air above the sea, tainting the blue sky with its dark essences. Her heart fell as her gaze left the ocean and fell onto the home of Val’s people.

  It was like no village Nima had ever seen. She had expected a village of huts and buildings, or perhaps tents and carts considering Val’s story about the Tempest and how the whole village had to flee into the mountain caves on short notice.

  Caenola was in the harbor, or on top of it. There was a framework of logs and poles lashed together and floating in the water that stretched across the width of the bowl and ended just short of the open ocean. More logs had been cut flat to form wooden platforms and walkways that guided through the framework, and on top of many of those platforms were the huts and tents Nima had expected to be on the beach.

  It was a city built to float upon the water, huts and platforms rolling with the waves in a shifting harmony that would have been astonishing, if not for the devastation that unfolded in front of their eyes.

  Tanira hissed a curse at the sight, as Val wept while continuing to run. Nima’s eyes carried over the damage, her chest growing tight. This was destruction like she had never seen.

  The smoke was everywhere, a few fires still actively smoldering. Nima could see complete huts and tents reduced to rubble, poles and wooden scaffolding turned to floating wreckage. Though she could see no bodies of Caenolans, there was blood in the water, and she could smell the char in the air, its scent mixing with the salt of the sea.

  Val had stopped at the edge of the harbor, his fists clenched. Running up from behind him, Nima could see the light from his crystal surrounding his head like a fiery halo.

  “How?” She gasped. “Who could have done this?”

  “The Thartark,” Val said, spitting the name like an accusation.

  He began to walk slowly, approaching a small gate made of tree limbs and branches lashed together, which stood at the boundary of the platforms floating upon the water.

  Two figures ran out from behind the short gate, Nima could see one male and one female. The female had yellow crystal in her forehead was smaller than Val’s, with beautiful shells woven into her deep blue hair, golds and greens that reflected in the sun.

  The male ran to them first, the woman following. The man was about Val’s height, but thinner, the crystal in his head glowing a bright green as he ran
to Val.

  “Valaen!” the man cried, his arms open wide. “Oh, thank the Tide!”

  “Zelquan!” Val said, accepting the man’s embrace.

  He wore only a simple fur top and pants made of the same dark leather-like material as Val’s.

  Releasing Val, Zelquan stepped back, his jaw opening in surprise as he stared at Nima and Tanira. The female Caenolan stared at them both as well, though her gaze made Nima feel more uneasy.

  “These are my friends, Nima and Tanira,” Val said. “They are from another place, obviously.”

  “I should say so,” the woman said, still peering at Nima with a look that felt suspicious.

  “They have the look of the old tales to them,” Zelquan gasped.

  “They protected me on my journey back,” Val said. “They have been true, and I trust them.”

  “I am not surprised at that,” the female Caenolan said, her tone bitter.

  “Please, Yanare. They kept me safe. Leave this for now, tell me what has happened here.”

  “It would have been better I think, if you had stayed away, Valaen.” Yanare stepped forward. She cast her hand across the ruins in the harbor. “The actions of you and your family, as much as the Thartark. Perhaps more so in many people’s minds.”

  “That’s not fair,” Nima said, stepping forward. “He was with us. You cannot hold Val responsible for this.”

  “Indeed,” Tanira said, joining Nima. Nima noted her hands had strayed back to the hilts of her long knives.

  “And your opinion should mean something?” Yanare asked. “The word of outsiders? Aliens? Perhaps you left to find help against the Thartark, now that your father has brought them down upon us?”

  “Yan,” Val said, stepping between the woman and Nima. “Please.”

  Yanare turned away from Val, turning back toward the city.

  “Your father, exiled or not, was still an Elder. I have no authority to bar you from the village, such as it is. There are many hurt, many buildings damaged, and whales killed. Should you and your companions enter, I would ask that you aid those you can and then seek the Elders. No doubt they wish to speak with you on this atrocity.”

  “Yanare!” Val stepped forward to follow her as she walked away. His crystal grew brightly red, his hands balled. Nima put her hands on his shoulders, holding him back.

  “Val, no,” Zelquan said. “I know you want to confront her, but not now. Not like this.”

  “Listen to him, Val,” Nima said. “Take a moment, a breath.”

  “Nima and your friend are correct,” Tanira said. “There is a time for anger, but I sense if you pursued her in this moment, you would have the anger of all of these people visited upon you.”

  “They are right,” Zelquan said. “Let her go. No doubt she runs to the Elders anyway, to tell them of your arrival.”

  Val’s kept his hands clenched into fists for a moment, then with a sigh he released them. The glow of his crystal dimmed slightly as he did so.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. “All of you. I do not want my anger to keep me from getting the truth. Nothing will be helped by making things worse. Zel, will you tell me what happened here?”

  Zelquan ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head as he looked back across the burning tents and smoldering platforms.

  “I heard the first screams around dawn. The last of the night’s whalefleet had come in, and the whales had begun to mist. I don’t know how the fishermen missed the Thartark boats, but suddenly they were in the harbor.”

  “This looks like an attack of projectiles, flaming ones,” Tanira said.

  Zelquan nodded.

  “Fiery balls of some sticky substance, it looked like black goo. I had never seen it before. There was no order to the attack I could see. In the fog of the morning, I doubt the Thartark could even see what they were aiming at. It was just random savageness. We thought they would come ashore, attack us, kill us. To our surprise, they did not. They seemed content to fire at us from a distance.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Nima said. “Val says you people are no match for the Thartark, that they are much larger. And that you don’t know how to fight.”

  “I agree,” Tanira said. “It sounds like a distraction, but for what?”

  Another Caenolan came running up the platform, shouting Val’s name. This one was male as well, he was wearing a band made of small shells across his chest, his violet headcrystal ablaze with light.

  “Mid-Elder Juniraz,” Val said, bowing. “I-I had only returned and--”

  “No time for that Valaen,” Juniraz said. “You need to come with me, the Elders need to speak with you urgently. The Scrye! The Scrye has been taken!”

  Juniraz led them quickly across a complex series of platforms and barges, Nima struggling to keep up with their pace. The uncertain footing was not helping matters. She would have expected her experience on the mountains would help her, but the slow, subtle movement of the wooden walkways on the waves kept playing tricks on her feet.

  All along their route, Caenolans stopped to watch them pass, gasping at her appearance as well as Tanira’s. Val was right behind Juniraz, with his friend Zelquan close behind.

  Most of the people they passed were in some manner repairing structures or tending to the wounded. In each location, there seemed to be at least one person producing music. Many simply sang, while others blew into what looked like several shells fused together. The combined effect was a mournful sound, a song that reminded Nima of a funeral.

  “Why do they sing?” Tanira shouted ahead to Val.

  “They play to heal,” Zelquan said. He slowed, dropping back with Nima and Tanira.

  “I don’t understand,” Nima said. “If the music is to help you feel better, why is it sad?”

  “Our emotions are powerful,” Zelquan said. “We are no Thartark, crystal-less and cold. What we feel, we feel with our bodies as well as our hearts.” He pointed to his forehead. “Our crystals contain these emotions, and once there, they can be difficult to remove. The music, ancient songs from before any can remember, they help us release these emotions.”

  “I see,” Nima said as she made a jump to the next platform. She thought of Val, of all the emotions he had been forced to endure over the past two days. How they must have affected him, but he had sung no songs, nor had any been sung to him.

  “I suspect we are getting close to our destination,” Tanira said. “I see more of these song singers and music players and the lament has changed. Do they sing for the loss of this Scrye?”

  “They sing for the loss of the future,” Zelquan said. “The cycle of Calm and Tempest cannot be predicted now. We . . . we do not know how to proceed.”

  A slight glow forming on his forehead, Zelquan moved back ahead with Val and Juniraz. Nima wished she could speak with Val, but he seemed consumed with the need to get to this council of Elders.

  Passing through one floating platform to the next, Nima began to lose track of their path as they wound throughout the maze of thin wooden rafts and small structures, some surrounded by grieving Caenolans and others empty.

  Val came to a stop suddenly in front of one of the makeshift buildings, Nima bumping into him slightly as she was caught off guard. She wobbled off balance from the movement of the ocean underneath them, Tanira’s strong hand coming to her shoulder and steadying her.

  The tent looked no different than any of the others they had passed, though Nima guessed they might be in the center of the village. Looking back, she was astonished how far off from the shore they were. The tent appeared made of sewn-together patches of the same material as Val’s pants, the structure looking large enough to hold perhaps ten people.

  Several singers and musicians were standing around the entrance of the tent, both Zelquan and Juniraz joining them. Val held open the flat curtain closing the tent, allowing Nima and Tanira inside.

  The tent contained no furniture save six chairs, three of which were already occupied
by Caenolans. Two females and a male. Nima recognized one of the females as Yanare.

  There were gasps at their appearances as they entered, Nima feeling nervous as one of the older Caenolans muttered something under his breath while staring at them.

  Entering behind them, Val ran to an elderly looking female who was seated in the far corner of the tent. She got up slowly, her crystal glowing bright blue as Val embraced her.

  “Mother,” Val said. “I am . . . I am so sorry if I worried you.”

  “I knew you would go to him,” the woman replied, her voice breaking. “Yet, you have not brought your father’s body back. I take it--”

  Val lowered his head, his mother’s azure crystal glowing brightly for a moment, then falling into darker hues.

  “I am sorry, Mother,” he said.

  “He made his choice,” Yanare said from the far chair. “His choices, and yours Valaen. Those are the topics of discussion here, correct, High Elder?”

  The Caenolan male in the center nodded, pulling himself out of his chair and to his feet. He was hunched over, keeping two wrinkled hands on the chair to maintain his footing. Nima could see speckles and spots throughout his scaled skin, a crown of shells surrounding his thinning white hair. A low light radiated from his crystal, so dim Nima could not make out its color.

  “We are, indeed,” the man rasped, looking at Nima. “Before we do though, sister Yanare, Valaen should introduce these strangers.” The old man’s dark eyes narrowed as he continued to squint in Nima and Tanira’s direction. “They are scaleless? Finless? Yet not Thartark, they resemble those of the old tales. Valaen who are these creatures?”