The Hanging Mountains

by Sean Williams

  He woke again an unknown time later, thinking he'd heard someone calling his name. His heart pounded and he tried to lift his head. Sharp stone dug into his temple, restricting his efforts to a pathetic twitch. Something shifted beneath him and his twisted arm came under even more pressure. He stopped trying to move then, chilled by the realisation that, whatever he was buried in, it wasn't packed down tight and might shift in ways that would only make his situation worse. A trickle of air was somehow getting in; cutting off that supply would be the death of him.

  The call wasn't repeated and he eventually convinced himself that he had imagined it.

  He tried to stay calm. If he panicked again, he might never awake. The first thing he needed to do was work out what had happened. He remembered rocking on the camel's back, being lulled into unconsciousness by exhaustion and fever. Flashes of dreams were all that remained in his memory after that point. At least he assumed they were dreams: a woman with eyes and skin similar to Skender's friend Chu leaning over him; the Homunculus picking him up and carrying him in its arms; a deafening roar, louder than anything he had ever heard before—louder even than the flood that had swept him and the Homunculus away, two weeks earlier. Then…darkness.

  Could he really have been left for dead by the twins? It was possible. His condition may have worsened to the point where it was difficult to discriminate between life and death, especially for someone with no experience at it. He had heard tales of people rising from mortuary slabs or sitting up at their own wakes, bewildered but very much alive. It had happened often enough for him to become convinced that it had indeed happened to him.

  But what to do about it? He didn't dare move, and doubted he had the capacity to do much, even if he did. What did that leave him?

  Only then did he realise that something had been returned to him—something missing for so many days that he had come to take its absence for granted. Although smothered in stone and dirt and weak with fever, he felt the Change acutely, as though standing next to the sea itself. Its return came at a cost—it meant the twins had definitely left him—but the simple fact of his reconnection to the life-flows of the world gave him at least one chance of escape.

  He was too weak to move the earth around himself, but he could call for help.

  “Can anyone hear me?”

  The effort nearly drained him dry. He rested afterwards, conserving his energy and resolving to try again.

  “Hello? Hello?”

  At the very range of his senses, he thought he detected a response.

  “Hello! Please listen! My name is Sky Warden Habryn Kail. I'm underground. You have to dig me out. Hello?”

  Stars danced again behind his eyelids, and he feared blacking out. He needed to remain conscious just in case his call was answered. If he didn't, he would wake up even weaker. Maybe he would never wake at all. He would die in a premature grave, suffocated in a stupid accident.

  Fear and anger worked in him. He didn't want to die like this. He had work to do, a mission to fulfil. He had promised to help the twins reach their destination. They had come so far, tried so hard to understand each other's very different worlds, and to see it end now would be galling.

  There was more to it than that. His body didn't want to die for its own sake, even if it was fevered and broken. His mind spoke of promises and duties, but his lungs just wanted to breathe, his heart to beat a little longer. His gut was less clear—a loner and wanderer by inclination, he had never let himself become attached to any one person or place for too long. The pit of his stomach hollowed at the thought of leaving it all behind, as though the possibility of attachment had somehow been important without him knowing it.

  The name of the woman whose parchment he carried came back to him at that moment: Vania, with her deep blue eyes and ability to laugh at anything. He would've handed over the fragment of Caduceus without hesitation in exchange for seeing her again.

  “Help me!”

  Kail couldn't help but struggle against the soil constraining him. He would shout and curse and tunnel his way out like a worm. It would take more than putting him in a grave to make him lie down for good. The seer in Laure hadn't told him what lay at the end of the path he sought, but Kail swore it wouldn't be this. He would crawl out of darkness into the mist and spit the dirt from his mouth. He would stand up and keep walking. He would find the twins and show them that they had buried him too soon. He would see daylight again.

  “Kail?”

  The voice was barely audible over the sound of weeping—his own, he realised, as he slowly came back to himself. His cheeks were heavy with mud and his chest hurt. His nose was now completely blocked and he had lost all sensation in his right arm. Instead of fighting for life, he now cursed himself for living. Why not just slip quietly into darkness? Why drag it out any longer? He had had more than enough time to contemplate his sorry, futile fate.

  “Come on, Kail! I know you're in here somewhere!”

  This time the voice was less easy to write off as a figment of his imagination. It was clearly audible through the Change, coming from nearby, and—to his great surprise—familiar.

  “Sal?”

  “Got you! Now, keep talking and I'll try to home in on your position.”

  “Where—where are you? How did you get here?”

  “Two questions we're keen to ask you. You go first.”

  “I—” He coughed, bringing a little more dirt into his mouth. “I think I'm supposed to be dead.”

  “Nonsense. There was a landslide. You were obviously caught up in it.”

  Kail groggily absorbed that information. A landslide? That would make sense, he supposed. More sense than being buried alive. He was lucky to be alive at all, then. An entirely different story.

  But what about the twins? The camel? Had they been swept up in the avalanche as well?

  “Kail? Are you still with us?”

  He forced himself to concentrate, to keep talking. “Yes, yes, I'm here—thank the Goddess. How did you know where to find me?”

  “Well, we didn't. Not really. We only heard you when we flew directly overhead, and that was more accident than otherwise. Marmion sent us out here in search of the Homunculus. We didn't think we'd be on a rescue mission.”

  “Have you found the twins?”

  “No. A hint of its wake higher up, but that's all.”

  Sal's voice was oddly flat. Either he was lying, or he thought no hope existed for his companions…and why would there be, Kail asked himself, when the twins couldn't call out for help as he had?

  “I don't know exactly what they are,” he said, “but they're not the enemy. Shilly was right. We need to hear what they have to say.”

  “Shilly wants to know what they've already told you.”

  “They say…” His mind wandered. The darkness around him seemed to grow even deeper, if that was possible. “They say…”

  “They say what, Kail? Don't fade out on us now.”

  In his mind, he heard the voice of the twins echoing from the depths of his memory: It was our plan to bind the Realms together. There's no point hiding from what we've done…We're the source of everything. And the end of everything…The Third Realm is still out there. Humans must still end up there, otherwise you wouldn't be human…We get to try again, to live our lives over and over…In sadness, in happiness, in terror, in peace. The choice is ours…

  We're just trying to make sense of the sky.

  Kail felt the dirt moving around his face. A heavy pressure came down over his mouth and nose, completely cutting them off. Terror returned and, like a match to alcohol, it consumed his last reserves of energy. He kicked and tried to move his head. Suffocating, he tried to say, but the word wouldn't leave his mind. Suffocating! I'm—

  Then the pressure fell away and light poured across his face. He sobbed with relief, sucking in lungfuls of air even though it made him cough.

  “Just lie still,” said Sal, no more than a silhouette against a bright backgr
ound. “We'll have you out soon enough. The more you wriggle, the more likely you are to bury yourself again.”

  Kail took this advice to heart, remembering his first impression that the rubble around him wasn't tightly packed. That also fit the avalanche scenario. If he squirmed too much, he might start another one.

  “Are you thirsty?” asked another voice. Shilly.

  “Oh, yes,” he croaked.

  A hand reached down to him, holding a flask of water. She dribbled a splash or two between his lips, and he swished it around in his mouth before swallowing it. He would be tasting dirt for a week.

  The excavation continued, slowly but steadily, as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Two people were working in the hole while Shilly watched over him—but one seemed to be something other than human, with strong arms and hands that made good shovels. Kail felt those hands pulling the dirt away, creating an ever-widening hole through which they could get at the rest of him. He was lying almost horizontally but in a very awkward position with his legs tangled around each other like the roots of a rotten tooth and one arm caught under him.

  When he was finally able to move that arm, the circulation returned in a rush, setting fire to his nerves.

  “Pain is good,” he said in response to Shilly's concerned look. “Pain means I'm not dead.”

  “Well, hold onto that feeling,” she said, looking at the bandages on his chest. “I think you're going to have to live with it for a while yet.”

  The twins watched from above as Sal and Shilly and their strange companion freed Kail from his premature tomb. The woman helping them was pale-skinned and wearing overalls, but looked like a large ape of some kind. Seth couldn't take his eyes off her.

  Simapesial, he said. It can't be.

  It's me you're talking to, Hadrian said. Remember?

  Must be a relation. It's the only way.

  The twins watched, yearning to help. After hunting for Kail for almost two hours, climbing up and down the ragged, scarred mountainside, calling his name over and over but hearing nothing in return, it now turned out that they had been looking in completely the wrong spot. They would have liked nothing more than to lend their considerable strength to the task of digging Kail out, but they held back, afraid of exposure, still stung by Ymani's suspicion and knowing that Kail would be better off in the hands of those more like him. Besides, the camel was gone and all their supplies with it. They had little choice.

  How did they find him? wondered Seth.

  Through the Change. Hadrian knew the answer, even if he hadn't heard the exchange himself. Telepathy, ESP, whatever. That's how you and I communicate. Looks like they can do it too.

  I thought we could talk because we were stuck inside the same head.

  That doesn't explain how, Seth. The Change makes it possible. We inhabit our own little bubble, separate from the rest of the world.

  Maybe one day we'll pop the bubble, eh?

  That was a thought Hadrian didn't dare vocalise. Although their physical senses only became keener with every passing day, the two of them still remained at a definite remove from the rest of the world. They were in it, but not yet part of it. What it would take to make the world fully accept them, he didn't know.

  “How were you injured?” they heard Shilly ask Kail.

  “The Swarm attacked us,” the tracker said, explaining what had happened in the lower reaches of the forest two nights earlier. “The wound has festered.”

  “You need more help than we can give you here.” The ape-woman's voice was throaty and expressive, not what Seth had expected. “We'll take you to Milang.”

  “In that thing?”

  Kail indicated the miniature balloon, and Hadrian understood his scepticism. The gasbag was less than three metres across and its basket was barely able to hold the three that had come there. The entire structure looked decidedly less than aerodynamic.

  The Change again? asked Seth.

  Must be. Hadrian thought about it. We'd better stay back or they won't get anywhere.

  “One of us will have to remain behind to make room,” said Sal. It was clear who he would suggest.

  “No, Sal,” said Shilly. “You're as bad as your father.”

  “And making just as much sense. Jao is the pilot and I'm not leaving you here alone.”

  Shilly looked close to tears. “But what about you?”

  “Don't worry about me,” he said. “Someone can come and get me as soon as you arrive, if Jao isn't willing to backtrack herself. We'll all be back together again soon enough.”

  The ape-woman looked noncommittal, and that didn't ease Shilly's uncertainty even slightly. “What if there's another earthquake, or the Swarm come for you?”

  “I'll be okay.” He hugged her and kissed the side of her neck. Hadrian felt a pang of longing at the affection they so openly displayed. “Now, go. The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll come back and get me.”

  “I'm sorry,” said Kail as they helped him to his feet. “Truly, I am sorry. If you left me behind—”

  “Don't even think about it,” snapped Shilly with more abruptness than perhaps she intended. “You're coming with us whether you like it or not.”

  They manoeuvred the big man aboard the tiny balloon, and with much wriggling and rearranging Shilly and Jao followed. The ape-woman folded herself into the cramped space with surprising ease. Sal and Shilly held hands while Jao activated some sort of engine that made a broad propeller at the end of the gondola turn. It shimmered, building up speed, and strange patterns swept across the surface of the balloon.

  Sal stepped back as, with a faint nasal whine, the unlikely craft lifted into the air.

  Definitely the Change, said Hadrian.

  These people aren't as hopeless as I thought.

  “Hopeless?” They built this body, remember?

  That's nothing to be proud of, said Seth, flexing his right arm. It was never meant for us.

  That was the truth of it. They had taken advantage of the opportunity it presented, but Highson Sparre hadn't built it with mirror twins in mind. They were lucky it held them at all.

  From their hiding place, they watched Sal waving as his lover and her companions faded into the fog. Hadrian fought the urge to wave also, to farewell the man who had been their companion for the better part of their life in the new world.

  What do we do now? asked Seth.

  We can't move yet. He'll see us.

  So we just sit here?

  Got any better ideas?

  Sal waited until the whine of the balloon's chimerical engine had faded into silence before turning and looking around him.

  “Okay,” he called. “You can come out now.”

  Only the echoes of his voice replied.

  “I know you're there,” he tried again, louder. “Show yourself.”

  A shadow moved ten metres up the steep, scarred hillside. Multiple limbs unfolded. The dark shape of the Homunculus separated itself from the boulder it had been hiding behind and stood up straight.

  “How did you know we were here?” came the return cry.

  “Well, if Kail survived, you were likely to as well. Then I picked up your wake higher up the hill. Were you trying to find him?” He indicated the muddy rubble beneath his feet, the hole Kail had been pulled from.

  “Yes. We couldn't call him as you can. We're glad you heard him.”

  They stared at each other for a dozen heartbeats. There were a million questions Sal wanted to ask, but the black, blurry face of the Homunculus was forbidding. Brother, he thought. My father's creation.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  A flurry of activity seemed to take place beneath the creature's strange skin. “Here? To save the world and everyone on it.”

  “Why now?”

  “Because it needs saving now. Yod is stirring. All these years it has been trapped, waiting for an opportunity. Now the time is here. Don't you feel the potential rising? Don't you sense the world breaking under y
our feet?”

  Sal frowned, not knowing if the Homunculus meant literally breaking—as in an earthquake or landslide—or something metaphorical.

  He shook his head uncertainly. “I don't feel anything.”

  But that wasn't entirely true. He felt stronger than ever, despite his recent exertions. That feeling, he had assumed, was the result of trying on the King's crown, the exuberant inspiration that had coursed through him during those brief seconds of contact. He still couldn't see any other obvious possibility. How Yod could possibly be connected to his wild talent defied his best efforts at comprehension.

  “Maybe you're too close to what's happening,” the twins said. “You can't stand outside it, see the way things are changing.”

  “Does it have anything to do with the Swarm?”

  The Homunculus's expression definitely looked surprised at that. “How do you know about them?”

  “They've been killing people, trying to start a war.”

  “The first part sounds very much like them, but not the second. I don't understand.”

  Then the Homunculus interrupted itself with one word. “Upuaut.”

  “Yes.” Two distinct voices emerged from its strange mouth. “Yes, it must be. They're working together now, like they used to.”

  With an odd, crablike motion the Homunculus began to descend the rubble. Sal automatically went to retreat, but forced himself to stand firm.

  The twins aren't the enemy, Kail had said. We need to hear what they have to say.

  “Come slowly,” Sal called, raising one hand palm out. “I don't want to fall into your wake.”

  “Understood.” The twins descended until the edges of Sal's Change-sensitivity began to blur.

  “That's far enough. What were you saying about the Swarm?”

  “That something else is behind them, using them as it has used them before. They're the brawn for someone else's brain.” The Homunculus shook its head. “But they're not important in the long run. Yod is coming. We've got to be ready for it when it gets here.”

  “There won't be anyone left to get ready if the Swarm have their way.”

  “It is a bit of a catch-22. We can see that.”