Fractured Everest Box Set

by D. H. Dunn

  Nima still knelt in the snow. There was a warm cloak around her, someone had placed it thought she was not sure who. Zelquan, perhaps. All around her the snow blew as if the world had not changed. The red spot next to her where Val had died had been covered and erased.

  They had taken his body inside, Zel and Yanare gently removing Val from her arms, by then it was merely a body. The Val she had known, the first person to ever kiss her, to ever look at her with a gaze that had limitless possibilities, that person was already gone.

  She had cried, but she was not crying anymore. She felt empty, more hollowed out than she ever had been in her life. She had lost people before, but not like this. Her heart recoiled at the idea of standing, of taking even one step away from this place. It seemed disrespectful, disloyal to the new flame she and Val had lit only this night.

  A candle now doused.

  She might have stayed there all night, might have frozen to death kneeling right in that spot if Val’s mother had not come running out, shouting her name, Zel right behind her.

  She turned to face them, as they ran toward her. She reminded herself these two had lost someone today too, someone they knew far longer than she had. A friend, a son.

  The old woman was nearly vibrating with panic, not the remorse or anger she expected.

  “Oh, Nima, she’s gone!” The old woman wailed. “First my Val and now this.”

  “What?” Nima’s mind started to clear, pushing the snow and ice inside her head away. She looked at Zel, who seemed more lucid. “Who is gone? What has happened?”

  Zel’s face was a mixture of shame and horror.

  “The Scrye! Nima, the Scrye is missing!”

  Lhamu! Nima felt a cold hand grabbing her heart, squeezing it with tight, bitter fingers. Her mind raced back to the start of all the terrible events of the evening.

  A woman sneaking away with an over-full pack, that she was very protective of. Her hands balled into fists, her legs already moving to get her climbing gear.

  Tanira had Lhamu, and she was headed for the summit.

  The mournful cold inside Nima melted as fresh heat began to blaze in her heart. The path leading to Mount Varesta’s summit was close by, and while Tanira was not a skilled climber Nima was not about to underestimate her.

  Nima stood, moving towards the route, following Tanira’s tracks in the snow, barely aware of Zel still standing in the open space watching her.

  Tanira had stolen Val’s life, and a future that she and Val might have explored together.

  No! Not Lhamu too – I will not allow it!

  She heard the crunch of boots in the snow behind her, turning back to see Zel now following after her.

  “No, Zel,” she said. He would only slow her down, and he was a good man. Val’s people had lost enough. “Please, watch after Val’s mother back inside.”

  They both looked back at the empty patch of snow where Val had fallen, Nima feeling a fresh pang of anger and sorrow. Zel nodded and turned back towards the Caenolan’s cave.

  “Be careful, Nima,” he called back over the wind. “For Val’s memory, for me. For all of us. Come back to us.”

  “I will,” Nima said, wishing she felt like she might keep that promise. She would try, but Tanira felt like a foe beyond anything she might overcome.

  One thing at a time, she reminded herself, the thoughts in her head feeling a lot like Val’s voice in her ear. Let’s catch her first.

  Pulling her ax off her belt, Nima stared up at the icy route that led to the summit. It wouldn’t be easy, climbing in the dark with the snow blowing in her face. Lhamu needed her though, so easy or hard climbing was what she was going to do.

  Nima grunted as she slammed her ax harder into the ice, her mind filled with thoughts of Val and Tanira. Her heart pounded faster than she wanted it to, forcing her to keep pausing to steady herself. The oxygen level here was richer than on Everest, but it was still thin, and she felt so tired.

  She needed to keep control, yet that seemed more a struggle than ever.

  So much robbed from her, so much gone in an instant. Why had Val thought he could challenge Tanira, why hadn’t he just left it alone?

  She knew why, it was for the same reason she now pushed her legs and arms, carrying herself toward a confrontation she had no hope of winning. One did these things for the people they cared about, the people they wanted in their life.

  The fog just above and ahead was thicker, she was nearly inside it. Tanira was now invisible, having passed through the clouds moments before. Nima was gaining though, whatever Tanira’s other strengths and training might be, Nima knew she was the superior climber.

  She pushed into the clouds, her boots finding footholds she could barely see. The mist was thick with moisture, different from the drier conditions on Everest. Her eyelashes threatened to ice over, the strange combination of water and cold forming tiny spheres in front of her vision.

  She ignored the conditions, squinting harder as she gripped her ax and continued her ascent. Tanira was up there with Lhamu, and it was only a matter of time before the woman made a mistake and fell to her death, taking the child with her.

  As it stood, Nima would be fine with Tanira reaching that fate, but Lhamu was part of the plans she and Val had just made hours before. She was not going to lose anyone else today, especially not Lhamu.

  Through the low light she saw Tanira’s form again many meters above her. Just a quick glimpse of her through the wind and snow, but it was enough. Nima felt the anger fill her like a vessel, her hands and feet attacking the mountain with renewed energy.

  No! You are not getting away from me!

  Pulling herself up past the final ridge, Nima found herself on a summit, surprised to discover it was a large large plateau, too flat and perfect to be natural. The area was about twice the size of Gyalzen’s tent back in Gorak Shep, she guessed a few dozen people might be able to stand comfortably upon it.

  One end of the plateau had a large wall of carved dark stone, about twice Nima’s height. The stone was rough save for four polished, oval circles, each the same size, and positioned equally apart. Inert portals.

  On the other end was a rough pyramid made of the same stone, into which a dull, golden door had been set. The doorway was sheltered from the worst of the gale, the snow piling up around it.

  The door had a large crystal inserted into its center, which was glowing bright white, the same color as Lhamu’s headcrystal. The energy coming off the white brilliance on the door pushed the mist and snow away from it, and Nima could feel its power from her position many feet away, hear the crackle of the potency inside it over the wind.

  Tanira stood in front of the doorway, slowly pushing its massive bulk open. Lhamu was still attached to Tanira’s back, ensconced in her pack with just enough free space to allow oxygen in.

  “Tanira!” Nima yelled. The woman gave no response, it was possible Tanira could not hear her with the noise of the wind.

  In frustration, Nima reached into the snow, making a snowball her hands and throwing it at Tanira’s as she trudged forth. The ball made a satisfying crunch as it connected with Tanira’s head, and the woman spun around in surprise.

  “You would steal the child? You are that low?” Nima yelled as she slowly pushed through the snow, advancing on Tanira. A sudden gust of wind rose, nearly pushing her back. It was as if Mount Varesta itself were protecting the woman.

  “No,” Tanira shouted back. Her hands were on her blades though they were not drawn. Not yet.

  “One child, or thousands? Her crystal is the key! I realized that was why I could not access the temple before. I need her to open the door!” Tanira unstrapped the satchel from her back, bringing Lhamu across to her chest. “I would return her to you once my task here is complete. If you agree to leave me here, agree not to follow.”

  Nima took another step forward. There was no way to know if using Lhamu in that way would be safe, not that she was considering letting Tanira access the
temple anyway. Her quest for the Line had hurt and killed enough people.

  “And if I don’t?” Nima yelled across the snow. “You’d kill her? You want me to believe you are capable of even that for your Line?”

  Tanira looked down at the child for a moment, taking care to pull the blankets shielding the infant’s face tighter. Staring back at Nima, she placed the satchel down in the shelter of the pyramid’s entrance. She stood blocking Nima’s access to both Lhamu and the doorway, her eyes steady.

  “You are angry at me for your friend. For Val. I am sorry. I did not mean--” She looked past Nima for a moment, then her gaze hardened. “He left me no option.”

  No option?

  Anger built inside her, filling her with fire and heat, demanding release. The world began to turn red.

  “You were my friend!” Nima shouted, her tears coming to her eyes. She balled her fists as she took another step. She was almost close enough. “I believed in you!”

  Tanira’s reply was just as angry, the passion in her stare matching her tone. “No, like a little girl you believed in a children’s story in your head. A lie you wanted to be true. Knights and quests, noble people who are always good. None of that is real.”

  Nima strode forward through the deep snow, until she stood face to face with Tanira.

  She had saved this woman’s life on this mountain, risked her own to do so. Tanira had lied, she’d stolen, and then she’d killed the only person in this world Nima had grown to care for. A person who was brave and did risk his life, putting others before him. Caring about more than a quest, or a Line.

  “Knights are real,” Nima said, staring through the blowing snow into Tanira’s eyes, fierce as ever against her dark skin. “Good, decent people are real. It’s you who are the lie.”

  Tanira looked down at her, the woman’s mouth set in a tight line. Her face showing nothing but purpose.

  “Perhaps I am a lie to you,” Tanira said. “It changes nothing. The tasks before me cannot be altered. Whatever obstacles are ahead of me, I will have to dispatch.”

  Lhamu was right there, only a quick grab away. Yet where would she run with her? Even if they escaped, could she leave Tanira to hurt more people, to complete whatever her mission was?

  Even more, could she leave Val’s death unanswered? Val, who had saved his people only to die, bleeding out in the snow, just as he and Nima had begun to consider their future.

  She felt a memory of the warmth of his lips upon hers, then the vision of the light in his crystal fading into darkness.

  He was lost, stolen from her. By Tanira.

  Her anger was an inferno now, the cold of the mountain a tiny element compared to her frustration and passion. Nima balled her fists. She was no match for Tanira, but it didn’t matter anymore.

  “Then for everyone you’ve hurt, you’ll have to dispatch me.”

  With a cry of rage she launched herself at Tanira, the woman’s response be damned.

  Chapter 30

  Drew crossed into the stone entryway to Kater’s fortress, the relief from the cold wind of the plains immediate. His back still stung, the searing wounds from the blazing crystals of the Yeti still in the process of healing. Beyond the wide doorway where the massive stone doors had been ripped and tossed aside, a long-carved corridor led deeper into the mountain, Ish Pulmori.

  Upala walked ahead of him, with Merin behind. The rasi sakta kept itself on stage with frustrating persistence, but he was able to keep his focus so long as he concentrated.

  The corridor was long and dark, and the momentary warmth Drew had gained from being out of the cold wind quickly faded. He was not sure what Kater might keep in the confines of this fortress, but he hoped clothes were among them.

  Trillip’s boots scraped on the wet stone behind him. “Still no sign of pursuit,” the man said. “Neither the Line nor the Yeti. Perhaps the evidence of that mammoth’s approach was enough for them to keep their distance.”

  “I doubt the Yeti will give up,” Merin said.

  “Those Line people may not know we survived,” Drew added. “From what you described, it was a pretty chaotic scene.” Noticing Upala had quickened her pace, he did the same. The corridor continued straight, darker as they moved away from the entrance, a faint glint of light far ahead.

  “Pretty creative use of your magic,” he whispered ahead to Upala. Her shoulders twitched in reaction, Drew wishing he had said nothing as he had likely provoked the rasi sakta in her. “Sorry,” he added.

  “Do not be apologetic.” Her voice sounded stronger than he had heard it before, the music inside it more confident. “You inspired me, and thus we have lived this far.”

  “The work this required.” Merin’s voice from behind them was filled with contempt. “Decades of Rakhum labor to restore these halls back to the time of the Hero. For what?”

  Upala sighed ahead of Drew, but did not reply. The brightness in front of them was growing, Drew able to make out an opening where the hallway gave way to a larger room, a second corridor opening directly across from where they now stood.

  The room was empty and devoid of furniture save for burning torches on the walls, several empty nooks carved into the stone and dozens of tapestries.

  “I think this is why, Merin.” Drew looked around at the woven artwork hanging on the wall, swaying slightly in the breeze coming from the outside.

  At first glance, the tapestries were similar to the ones Drew had seen in Upala’s lower library. Each one depicted one of the Dragons, which featured so heavily in Manad Vhan lore, in various states of combat. The colors were more vibrant though, the fraying and decay present in Upala’s artworks missing. These were not ancient, these had been produced recently. Not by Manad Vhan, Drew surmised, but by the Rakhum of Nalam Wast.

  They all featured Kater prominently. The face was younger, but it was unmistakably him. The more of them Drew looked at, the more he realized Kater was in every tapestry, often the only figure present. Some showed Kater in combat with a Dragon, but most showed the Dragons bowing to him or moving forth under his command. In each, Kater was wearing an odd headpiece adorned with crystals.

  “Jesus, I was kidding earlier,” Drew muttered. “The son of a bitch really did decorate this place with pictures of himself.” Drew supposed he wasn’t surprised. “Your brother’s fantasies?” he asked Upala, pointing to the artwork.

  “I suppose. I knew he had planned to fight the Dragons should they ever return, that he had desires to be the next Hero of our people. This always seemed absurd to me, we did not even know if there were more of our people to find.”

  “This space here appears to match that strange helm he is wearing in many of the pictures.” Trillip pointed to one of the empty alcoves, where an empty space was carved into the stone. “Yet it is empty.”

  Merin ripped one of the tapestries off the wall, throwing it to the ground.

  “Why are we wasting time here?” she asked, already moving for the exit. “Someone lit these torches. Sinar is ahead is he not?”

  “Yeah,” Drew said, reaching down to grab the ripped tapestry. He wrapped it around his torso where it provided at least some warmth and coverage. “Yeah, Merin’s right. Let’s go.”

  As if in response, the distant sound of metal upon metal came crashing from the hallway.

  Merin dashed towards the hallway first, Drew close behind.

  His pulse beat in sync with his footsteps as they ran forward. If this was Sinar, it was a chance to stop him before he even got to Nima.

  The second corridor was less well carved from the stone than the first, and Drew found it slowed his progress. It wound to the left and right, seemingly without clear direction, the clang of metal upon metal growing louder. Behind him, Upala and Trillip’s hurried footsteps echoed down the passage. Merin’s aggressive stride was difficult to keep up with.

  Drew felt a new unease growing inside him. Something was driving Merin, something about this was more personal. He wondered if it was
the proximity to Kater’s work, the efforts of the man who caused Kad’s death.

  They stormed down a set of stairs as a third echo of battle came from before them. The stairs were slick with more than water, Drew nearly slipping on what he was sure was blood. If Kater had guards in his fortress, they were making a stand.

  A shout rang through the stairwell as it emptied out into a new hallway, the words unintelligible but the voice clear and familiar.

  “Sinar,” Upala whispered. The surge of energy that ran through Drew was due to more than the rasi sakta. If Sinar was still here, there was still time to stop him. He ran harder, though he was still unable to catch up to Merin.

  She ran into the next larger chamber first, Drew nearly crashing into her as she stopped dead in her tracks, her gasp audible. A pair of bodies, both male, lay dead and sprawled on the floor. Kater’s guards, Drew assumed.

  The smell of the decay turned his stomach. These men had been here for some time.

  Throats cut, they had been killed neatly and cleanly as Upala’s men in her lower library had been. This was not the work of Sinar, but rather the agent of the Line. The one Garantika had sent to Sirapothi. A Rakhum had come here and butchered several of their own, in pursuit of the Line’s mad ambitions.

  “By the Hero,” Upala cried behind him.

  A new crash and shout, just ahead from the passageway opposite them, pulled Drew out of his horror. He took off running, ahead of Merin this time, already into the next corridor before he realized the voice he heard was not Sinar’s.

  There was a red glow up ahead, and a pulsing sound Drew had become all too familiar with. There was a portal in the next room, at least one, and it was open.

  There was also heat pushing at him from up ahead, a hot damp air washing against his skin. Behind him he could hear Trillip and Merin call out, but he ran on. He needed to reach that portal, stop Sinar before he could get to Nima.