by D. H. Dunn
The snowy ground sped by in a blur. Upala crept forward, nearly kneeling on top of Drew.
“Trillip!” She had to yell even louder over the clacking of the cart speeding down the hill. “Do not throw the switch!”
She saw a concerned glance from Merin, Trillip looking between the two.
“Trust me,” Upala mouthed.
Merin nodded, and Trillip kept his hands frozen as the switch sped by to their left.
Peering past the two, Upala could see the men backing away from the wreckage they had placed on the tracks. They were running to get a safe distance away, no doubt ready to pick at the bodies of the survivors.
Upala was not going to let that happen.
She put one hand on Drew’s back, the touch of her skin on his sending the expected electric shock through her. She felt his breathing, which was enough.
“Grab on and brace with your feet! This will be . . . challenging.”
The cart continued to race toward the collision, the impact now only seconds away. She could see crates, mining picks, other dig carts, whole boulders. She kept the shield a dome, the fact that she had never used her powers this way before was something she chose to ignore. If she waited until the last second, this might work.
Trillip and Merin shut their eyes. When she could read the writing on the nearest wooden crate, she completed the shield into a full circle.
The force of her shield pushed the cart off the rails and into the air, but it maintained its forward momentum. Her shield smashed into the collection of rubble and debris that the Line had placed in its way, the collision straining its integrity, but she clenched her teeth and held on to the shield with all her strength.
She heard the cries of the Rakhum of the Line, their cheers turning to anger as her shield held against their obstacles. The debris they had placed was just wood and metal, stone and steel. Unlike the flaming crystals of the Yeti, they contained no innate power, no lore with which to combat her magic. Her will was stronger than the simple materials arrayed against it, and their cart passed through the pile, reducing it to rubble and splinters.
Focusing, she allowed her shield to open slightly below them as the disintegrating digcart collapsed into pieces. She weaved openings beneath them, allowing the chunks of wood and metal from the cart through, but not flesh.
Then they were simply a crimson sphere, racing away from the wreckage and Rakhum at incredible speed, headed down the snowy slopes that led into the valley where Kater’s stronghold waited for them.
Their velocity would be too great for the Line to follow them, even more so now that there was slick snow underneath them. Unfortunately, being a sphere Upala’s ball of crimson energy began to slide and skid.
The four of them were flung over and into each other, Upala doing her best to avoid Merin and Trillip and colliding with Drew whenever possible. She tried to push smaller crimson spheres inside their larger one, hoping they would act as bubbles to absorb the impacts.
She met with some success, until Merin’s knee came in sharp contact with her forehead. Stars flew in front of her eyes, and it was all she could do to keep the main shield intact as the foursome rolled down the hill, colliding and tossing like twigs in a racing river.
Then with a shuddering impact, they stopped.
Upala’s vision went dark, a great weight bearing down on her chest. She fluttered her eyes, felt the bones of her left hand begin to knit themselves back together. There were groans among the snow around her, the weight moving as Drew slowly rolled to his side.
She looked up. She was laying in the snow, Drew collapsed next to her. Her ears were still ringing, but she thought she could hear him laughing. Trillip was sitting in the snow, his face a sheet of white. He made eye contact with her, then emptied the contents of his stomach.
There was a crunch, and two boots appeared in front of her. A gloved hand reached out.
Merin’s. Upala put her right hand into the woman’s, allowing herself to be pulled up. Beside her, Drew was already getting to his feet, the ragged remains of his shirt blowing in the breeze.
“You have done it,” Trillip said, with a smile. “My lady, you have brought us here. To your brother’s fortress.”
Upala turned, seeing the stony foothills that led to Ish Pulmori before them, a large, stone doorway opening into a dark interior. Two massive doors lay nearby, something having torn them from their hinges and tossed them aside.
“Sinar?” Upala asked, her throat hoarse. She coughed, the emptiness in her chest feeling like a canyon, exhaustion running through her like tides.
“No sign of him,” Trillip said, wiping his mouth with his glove. “Yet I do not doubt this is his work.”
“The Yeti are surely still in pursuit,” Merin said. “Yet without you Upala, we would have fallen. You have done much to bring us into a favorable position, and with our lives intact.”
All that remains is to stop Sinar, Upala thought. And find this route to Sirapothi.
A new surge of energy ran through her at the thought of her feet stepping onto the grasses of that legendary world. To follow in the path of Orami Feram.
Drew’s hand alighted on her shoulder, another source of energy. She did not look back, and she knew he understood why.
“Nothing left to do but go in there,” he said. “I can see Sinar’s already inside.”
Sinar. Are we really strong enough to stop him? Is anyone?
She felt Drew shivering behind her.
“Anyone have an extra shirt?” he asked.
Chapter 27
Nima grit her teeth as she hammered her ax into the icy snow, testing the strength of her frozen route. Moving through the powder at a slight angle, it was now knee deep, thick and heavy.
When she had arrived on this mountain it had been warm and green with life. Now the storms of the Tempest had pushed wave after wave of snow and wind upon it, rendering it far closer to the Everest Nima knew.
“The storm behind us is growing in intensity,”
Nima ignored the comment as she broke trail toward the upper caves of the mountain, the whole of Val’s people lined up behind her. Hundreds of Caenolans depending on her to find the right path up this version of the mountain, which Val called Varesta.
None of that was a problem. If anything, this was the most natural thing Nima had done in days. Judging paths through the snow, testing ice for strength and gauging avalanche flows. There was a large and menacing pinnacle of ice hanging above them farther up the mountain, but there was little Nima could do except keep an eye on it.
It was a mountain, so it was still life and death, but it felt good to be doing something that made complete sense.
The storm raging around them was not the problem either. The maelstrom was indeed growing. Nima certainly didn’t need to look over her shoulder towards the distant ocean to be aware of that. The fiercest weather would likely reach them within the hour and possibly before they made it to the caves. The Tempest created by Sessgrenimath’s awakening could bring winds that might tear them right from Varesta’s face or snow that would simply bury them. It was coming, but there was little Nima could do about it.
Tanira was speaking again, and that was the problem.
She pushed through the snow right behind Nima, connected by the rope around each of their waists. Nima had protested being linked to Tanira, but the woman was the strongest person there and, after Nima, the one with the most experience on the mountain. Even Val had agreed the two were the best option to push a trail up Varesta.
Nima had wordlessly surrendered, but Tanira had been hardly wordless since they started their ascent.
Comments about the weather. Questions about the snow and ice. Questions about Nima, about her world, about Val.
Nima had ignored them all, focusing on one foot up, one foot down. Ax in, ax out.
She wanted to answer Tanira. There were a hundred things she wanted to say, her anger and frustration were boiling inside her. Nima’s worry was
that once she started letting that pressure out, she would not be able to stop. There was a job to do. Val and his people were counting on her.
For them, she endeavored to stay silent.
She had expected Tanira to realize she was not going to speak, but the woman seemed intent in wearing her down. Like Nima’s own assault on the mountain, Tanira was slowly scaling to the summit of Nima’s patience.
With each query Nima gripped her ax tighter. Each open-ended statement caused her to kick her boots into the snow with more aggression. If she didn’t release the tension soon, she was bound to make a mistake. A mistake that would cost everyone behind her, who depended on her.
“I suspect there will be wind and--”
“Yes!” Nima shouted, slamming her ax into the ice. Little flecks of cold crystal flung back at her, landing on her cheeks. “Yes, the storm is coming! No, I don’t think we will reach the caves in time. Yes, I am impressed with Val’s bravery. No, I don’t have an opinion on the Caenolan’s birthing ritual. And no, Tanira, I don’t want to talk to you!”
There was, for a moment, blessed silence. Nima wasn’t fooled, she knew it wouldn’t last.
“Nima,” Tanira said. “I just want to help you understand.”
“No, you don’t.” Nima craned her neck, looking up at their path. The angle would increase soon, the way becoming more treacherous. Hundreds of meters above, the outcropping of menacing ice hung over them, casting them in deeper shadow.
“You don’t need me to understand anything! You want to help yourself. You feel bad about what you have done, and you want me to forgive you.”
“It is not that simple,” Tanira said, her voice losing some of the strength Nima had been accustomed to hearing. “Nothing seems simple anymore.”
“Well, I don’t care. I don’t forgive you and I’ll remind you what you told me. You’ve killed people in service to your Line. Killed them. All you did to me was lie, stab me in the leg, and sell me out to the Thartark. You should be apologizing to the people you’ve killed.”
“Those deaths, they were . . . in the moment,” Tanira said, her voice dropping slightly. “Unavoidable. They died almost before I knew what I was doing. I can’t apologize to the dead.”
“Too bad you didn’t kill me too then,” Nima said. “It would have been better for your conscience. Not to mention quieter for me.”
Nima continued on, pushing ahead with her assault on the mountain. The chill of the wind whipped around her, yet the warmth of anger kept her moving.
Just below, Tanira was matching her pace. The rocks and snow took on a familiar form to Nima, a rocky ledge not far above them catching her eye.
“It was not far from here that I found you,” Nima said, frustrated with herself. Now she couldn’t be quiet, couldn’t let it go. “I’d say I could have left you hanging there, but that is not true. I couldn’t have left you. I can’t be like that.”
“That is confusing,” Tanira stopped, her voice turning bitter. “I am not sure there is anyone like that where I am from. I am sorry, Nima, my world does not offer me such options.”
“For you it is all about your quest. Your mission. I hope it was worth it.”
“That was my hope as well,” Tanira said. “There is no hope for me now, no home for me to go to.”
Nowhere for her to go? Nima hadn’t considered where Tanira would go when her quest was complete. Since she knew about the portals, Nima had figured Tanira had a portal back to wherever she came from. Why couldn’t she go back?
Her question forced itself into the air, Nima’s curiosity getting the better of her. “I don’t understand. What do you mean? You completed your quest. Why don’t you go home?”
The wind whipped the snow around Nima’s eyes, and she shut them for a moment. She wished she still had her goggles. Jamming the ax into the snow, she pulled herself a bit higher. Her query still hung in the air.
When Tanira replied, her voice was small and fragile, reminding Nima of a child.
“That is not possible. The crack in my heart is as wide as a chasm. I did not complete my . . . quest, as you call it. I failed it. Failed it utterly. I travelled to the temple, I had the key. I did all I was trained to do, but the door did not open. I-I do not understand.”
Nima heard a sound behind her, something that may have been a sob.
“I have failed my people, Nima, and they are now lost. All who depended on me, living and dead, have been denied. All who sacrificed did so in vain. The Line is at an end. Broken.”
Nima continued pounding her ax into the snow. She looked ahead, one part of her mind still focused on their path, still evaluating the gullies and snow drifts.
Other parts of her thoughts rode with the tone of Tanira’s words, the sorrow and guilt she could hear upon them.
She thought of Wanda, dying to free Upala and save all of her friends in the process. Meeting her end with a smile and satisfaction. Kaditula doing the same, knowing that his actions would allow his wife to reach their children.
What if they had lived to see their actions fail? What would it feel like to let down those you loved, those who depended on you? What if she had failed to save Pasang? To end Jang’s control over their farm? How would it have felt to look her father in the eye and tell him that not only had Jang defeated her, but that she had also lost his only son in the process?
Would she have lied to save Pasang? Would she have killed?
Tanira had said little of her quest, something that had been frustrating to Nima even when she believed in her. She knew nothing of what the woman had travelled to this world to do, but she knew that generations of people had worked to put Tanira in the position to make her attempt. Now she would have to go back and face them all.
“What you did on the island--that was your quest? To wake that beast? Sessgrenimath?” Nima asked, allowing her anger to be carried by her ax into the snow. She could still be angry at Tanira, but she now she felt more than that. Maybe if she could understand the nature of Tanira’s failure, things might make more sense.
“It was part of it,” Tanira said. “Sessgrenimath was being subdued by the item I needed and--”
Tanira’s voice drained away. Nima continued hacking at the snow, the wind now blowing drifts into her face.
“How did you know about Sessgrenimath?” Tanira asked. She sounded surprised.
“You mentioned him,” Nima said. “While we were in the canoe. You said you were going to the island to find him. I had thought it would be a man.”
“I never said why I sought him though. I never said it was a beast, nor that it was going to awaken. It was clear neither the Thartark nor the Caenolans knew of him. At the time, I don’t believe you knew of him either, yet you do now. How did you learn this?”
Nima heard the increased intensity in Tanira’s voice, and edge that matched the growing bite of the wind. Perhaps she had shamed the woman further. The details of her quest were supposed to be secret.
“He spoke to us. As Val and I were escaping the island. He . . . brought us before him. He was curious.”
“Curious about you? That is unexpected. I never imagined he might wake so soon or I might have waited to meet him. Surely, he has sensed Caenolans before. Was it you he was curious about?”
“He was mostly interested in the Scrye. He spoke directly to her, called her the link.”
There was a flash of lightning that ripped across the darkening sky, reflecting against the snow crystals on the mountain. The angle of their ascent was increasing further, and Nima hoped the upper caves the High Elder spoke of would not be too far off.
“The link?” Tanira paused for a moment. “The Scrye was the child? Ah, I would not have guessed. The village must have been grateful for her return.”
Nima recalled when the High Elder thanked Val after the Caenolans caught up with them on the road. Asking Val to personally accompany him on the climb, Nima suspected Val was to be made an Elder himself. Nima was surprised at the level of pride
she felt for Val.
“Such a small child,” Tanira said. “To be given such import. It is cruel to lock a child into such a role, take away their choices.”
Nima noticed that Tanira was banging her own ice ax into the snow with extra force, an additional rain of crystals to be showered upon the Caenolan behind her.
“What will become of the Scrye now?” Tanira asked. “Her role is to detect the Tempest.” Nima heard another crack of thunder from the approaching storm. “The Tempest is here. I have seen no other Caenolans with her crystal. Perhaps it changes color once the Tempest has come?”
Nima took a moment to look past Tanira at the line of Caenolans proceeding behind them. The snow had begun to blow with the wind, making it hard for Nima to see more than ten figures back. They were climbing, head down, hands on their lines. Val was back there somewhere, as was the Scrye. All hoping she’d lead them to safety.
Nima raised her voice to be heard over the growing storm. “The Scrye will die when the Tempest is over.” Likely they would not be able to speak much longer. The smallness of the words themselves seemed at odds with the depth of what she felt. The child would die, simply because her purpose had come to an end. It was unfair.
“The intensity of the Tempest,” Tanira said. Nima was unsure if the woman was stating a theory or fact. “It must burn the child out. Perhaps if it could be removed from--look!”
Nima jerked her eyes up to see what had gotten Tanira’s attention.
The ice she had been watching above them had broken, triggering an avalanche.
The snow in front of her was moving, tossing gray over white. It took her mind a second to process what she was seeing, a second she wished she could recover.
“Brace!” she shouted, hoping the Caenolans would remember the training she had given them on arresting. She threw herself down into the snow on her stomach, jamming her ax into the icy depths as far as she could. She was gratified to hear Yanare’s voice echoing her warning, starting a chain as the word was repeated down the line of climbers.