The Hanging Mountains

by Sean Williams

  “Take us even lower,” Marmion called out to Griel. “Look for open ground. We—”

  He got no further. Three more shrieking wraiths converged on the balloon from three different directions, summoned by the first. Charms flashed and energy flared. The Guardian's bodyguards stood to protect her and Lidia Delfine. The gondola bucked.

  Kail, caught in a whirlwind of concentration and distraction, had a momentary impression of tapering midnight limbs and obsidian, inhuman eyes. Coils of air turned to springs around unnatural bodies, pulling tight. Wordless battle cries turned to hisses of alarm and anger.

  Slowly, slowly, the three wraiths bowed to the combined will of four Sky Wardens and one Stone Mage.

  All might have been well had not another two wraiths burst out of the cover of dense smoke billowing from the forest below. Kail barely had time to see them, let alone muster any kind of counterattack, before the two swept along one side of the balloon, snapping and snarling. The sound of screams and the twanging of stays accompanied a sudden, appalling feeling of weightlessness.

  And then, along with everyone else in the balloon, Kail was falling.

  Skender felt relatively cold air hit his face and forced his eyes open. They were still flying through smoke, but the flames were thankfully falling behind. He dared to breathe, and triggered a fit of coughing he feared might last forever.

  When he looked over his shoulder, Chu's face was black with soot and set in a pattern of lines—slitted eyes, thin lips, furrowed brow—while behind her the wing actually seemed to be smouldering.

  “Got any more wonderful plans?” she croaked. “That last one nearly cooked us.”

  “It shook them off our tail, though, didn't it?” The Swarm appeared to have fallen behind in the face of the fiery heat below. They may have started the fire, but they certainly didn't like coming too close to it. Not with giant trees exploding in every direction, utterly without warning.

  “We're lucky we have a tail left.” Chu tried to keep the wing steady as it jumped from thermal to thermal, riding the boiling wind upwards. “Can we go, now? Did you send the message to the others?”

  Skender had no doubt that his hasty, terrified heads-up had reached everyone halfway Change-sensitive for several kilometres around, even though he had been too distracted since to listen for replies. Keeping the flames away had taken much of his remaining strength and required the use of charms he had only ever read about. Fire-sculpting was a mostly forgotten art, one that looked magnificent when performed correctly but which had severe consequences for audiences and practitioners when things went wrong.

  “Yes, it's done,” he said. “Let's get out of here.”

  Chu didn't waste any time. She picked a relatively stable column of hot, smoky air and began to spiral around inside it, trading the steadily rising current against the ability to see well. Or to breathe.

  “So,” he asked after Chu finished her own protracted coughing fit, “how do you enjoy life in the forest?”

  She snorted.

  They burst out the top of the column of smoke and rode clear air for only a few seconds before entering another thermal. The smell of burning trees surrounded them. Not just trees, he thought, but fruit and flowers and fungus, and the fauna inhabiting the dense foliage as well. The thought of burning animals—maybe people, too—made him feel abruptly ill, and he begged Chu for a respite.

  “It is a bit much, isn't it?” she agreed, tugging the wing out of the column. “We'll take a small breather, and then get going again.”

  Skender hung limply from the harness as he purged his throat and nose of the smell. His eyes took in the complex topography of clouds around them—bulging ramparts pushing higher layers aside in their urgency to rise—and he wondered distractedly what effect all the smoke and heat would have on the fog. Would it clear the clouds away or make them denser? He didn't know.

  He did know that the fires were spreading despite the best efforts of those trying to put them out. A wall of smoke now stretched halfway across the base of the city, and the fires ate higher with every passing minute. His vision of the city's frightened population huddled at the summit was becoming horribly real.

  “What's that down there?” asked Chu, pointing into the forest city. Treetops were waving from side to side as something massive forced through the undergrowth. Human-made structures crumbled like matchstick houses behind it.

  Skender squinted. “I can't quite make it out. Can you go closer?”

  “The last time you asked me that, we were almost eaten then burned alive.”

  “What? Getting cold feet?”

  The banter helped insulate them from the reality of their situation as she piloted the wing closer to the steep wall of trees.

  “Are they—? No, they couldn't be.” Dark grey shapes shouldered trees and habitation aside, half-glimpsed through the canopy but instantly identifiable.

  “Man'kin?” asked Chu. “What are they doing here?”

  Something more pressing still had caught Skender's eye. “Oh, shit. That wasn't supposed to happen.”

  “What?”

  “They came to rescue us—and now look!” He pointed down the side of the mountain to where the Guardian's balloon was under siege from three of the Swarm.

  “If you're about to suggest we go down there—” Chu began.

  “It's not a suggestion,” he said, even as two more wraiths shot out of nearby clouds and raked the balloon from end to end. Cables snapped free like whips. He couldn't see through the balloon to the gondola below, but he imagined people spinning into soft-looking clouds before slamming into fire and Earth far below.

  Chu was already moving. His ears popped, they dropped so fast.

  More bells and a chorus of hand-wound sirens added to the cacophony on the city's summit. The belltower itself began to chime, deafeningly, with deep, resonant clangs. This time the crowd began to look worried. Watching the Guardian and the others descend out of sight—so soon after getting in the balloon to come home—was bad enough. No one seemed to care that the barge had returned safely to the Panic city. The crowd began to break up as groups of two or three hurried away, anxious about homes and loved ones, and things that needed to be done ahead of this new calamity. Shilly caught one word repeated over and over: man'kin.

  She, Banner, and Jao exchanged glances. As the number of conspirators decreased, their odds improved. Sousoura, however, only became more edgy.

  “Man'kin came to Laure too, you know,” said Shilly to the minister. “Only they weren't invading. They were running from the flood. Perhaps that's all that's happening now. The fire has flushed them out of the forest and they're fleeing the only way they can: up.”

  Sousoura looked unconvinced. Instead of answering, she ordered Shilly to walk along the widow's walk to the far corner. Two of her accomplices did the same with Jao and Banner.

  “What are you going to do with us?” asked the Engineer. “There's no point keeping us any longer. You know we have nothing to do with this, and neither do the Panic.”

  “Down here,” Sousoura ordered them, pointing down the stairwell in the corner. Shilly went first, playing up her lameness in order to buy some time. She didn't know where the minister was taking them, but she didn't like what she saw on her face. Sousoura had taken a chance, and it hadn't paid off. Getting rid of the evidence might be simpler than trying to explain herself, especially when any inconvenient details might be most conveniently erased by the confusion of fire and man'kin.

  The two minding Jao and Banner were big men, but obviously no more trained for guard duty than Sousoura herself. As they came down the spiral staircase with the guards behind them, Shilly decided that the time to act was now or never.

  She feigned a stumble. Crouching over her injured leg, she pulled away from the knife and whipped her stick up into Sousoura's face. Taken by surprise, the minister fell backwards and dropped the blade with a clatter.

  Behind her, Jao didn't waste the opportunity. She do
dged aside as Sousoura fell, putting the minister between her and her own minder's blade. Behind him, Banner dived suddenly forward, pushing Jao's minder bodily into Sousoura and tumbling the two of them down the stairs.

  Shilly made way for them, already holding Sousoura's dropped knife. She raised it in warning at the third guard, who froze midstep.

  “I don't want to use this,” she said, “and I'm sure you don't want to use yours. Please, don't prove me wrong on both points.”

  He backed up the stairs without a word.

  Jao had moved past her to disarm her tumbled guard, demonstrating her natural strength when he tried to resist. Her long arms and broad shoulders gave her the leverage he lacked. He went down heavily with one arm twisted behind his back.

  “You sure know how to make enemies,” said Shilly, hauling Sousoura to her feet. They were still in the stairwell. As far as Shilly could tell, none of the Guardian's staff below had noticed the incident. “Here's your chance to make good. I want you to take us to someone important, someone who knows what they're doing. We need to tell them about the man'kin.”

  “I'm not afraid of the man'kin.” Sousoura's eyes flashed as though Shilly had personally threatened her.

  “Well, that's good. I'm not either. And you shouldn't be afraid of us, unless you insist on getting in our way.” She waited a second for Sousoura to make a move, but the minister remained stubbornly uninformative. “Okay. Stay here, then. Come and get your pretty knife off me when all this is over.”

  Shilly turned and walked away, not looking back even when she heard Sousoura spit noisily onto the steps. Shilly ground her teeth and resisted the urge, powerful though it was, to respond in kind.

  The grassy area at the bottom of the stairs was a mess of people shouting orders and calling for information. Without the Guardian's calming presence, Milang had devolved into squabbling bureaucracies and fragile egos. Jao kept the blade of her purloined knife carefully out of sight behind her forearm, and Shilly did the same lest sight of the weapons cause even more alarm. Already the guards were watching them suspiciously.

  She despaired of learning anything from anyone until she found a servitor she recognised—a lost-looking balding man holding a sheaf of papers—and pulled him to one side.

  “What's going on?” she asked him. “Who should we talk to?”

  “I don't know,” he said. “No one knows.”

  “Tell us about the fires and the man'kin. We can't decipher what all your bells and whistles are saying.”

  “The fires are spreading. The man'kin are coming. Nothing we can do is stopping either of them!”

  His eyes were frightened. He was beyond reassurances. All she could do was give him orders.

  “Find someone in charge and tell them we have information for them. The man'kin aren't attacking. Have you got that? The man'kin aren't attacking. We'll be here, waiting to tell what we know.”

  He nodded rapidly and backed away, still clutching his papers. Shilly watched him push through the crowd, not entirely confident that he would get results but lacking any clear alternative.

  “Maybe we should get out of here,” said Banner, looking nervously at the restless throng.

  “And go where?” Jao asked. “The only way is down, into the fire and the man'kin.”

  “But if we stay here…” Banner nodded at Minister Sousoura, who had slipped down another stairwell and moved into the crowd.

  “Off the grate and onto the griddle, as a friend of mine used to say.” Shilly looked around and asked herself: What would Lodo do? The guards watching them were close enough to see if Sousoura made a move in the open, and they had, as yet, no actual reason to suspect the outsiders of any wrongdoing. “Running will only make us look guilty.”

  Jao nodded, then looked up at the sky. Her half-human face paled, and Shilly followed her gaze.

  Deep black smoke clouds billowed high over the citadel, blocking out the smudge of a sun. A shadow fell over the gathering, ash began to rain down, and Shilly felt real fear set in.

  Kail didn't have time to think about pain or falling or who to save. He simply acted, grabbing the back of a seat as the gondola tipped over onto its side and spilled its contents into the air.

  He swung giddily from one hand for a moment, watching with a strange detachment as black shapes disappeared into the mist. Two human figures waved and kicked as they fell, unable to slow their descent one iota, no matter how much they screamed. Ramal lost her grip and followed a moment later, tumbling to her death in complete silence, unlike the humans. Maybe Panic soldiers were used to the idea of falling, Kail thought wildly. He certainly wasn't. In Ramal's wake fell an assortment of items: bags, blades, pouches, and the heavy box containing the captured wraith. It tumbled away without a sound, although Kail liked to think the creature inside was screaming too.

  He snapped back to himself. People were shouting for help and struggling to hang on as the balloon swayed and tipped. Only one side of the gondola had been freed; the other still dangled from the air bladders above. The engines whined and snarled, turning the entire ungainly arrangement around in an erratic spiral. Shadow and light played maddeningly as Kail brought up his second hand, tightened his grip, and tried to work out what to do.

  Most of his fellow passengers had found a solid perch. A couple of people clung to the frame with one hand. Highson had the Guardian tangled in a web of air and was bringing her nearer to a reaching Seneschal Schuet. Rosevear had another person, and was lowering them to the ground far below. Sensible, Kail thought, if the young warden could manage the range.

  As Kail adjusted his weight and swung himself closer to the far edge, where help was most needed, movement from the open sky caught his attention. The Swarm were coming around for another pass. Those the wardens and mage had managed to capture earlier were now free also.

  The balloon lurched. Griel had managed to reach the controls and sent it dropping downwards as fast as it would go. “Hang on!” the Panic soldier cried. “We'll be on solid ground soon!”

  Soon would probably be too late, Kail thought. If the Swarm didn't manage to ditch the entire gondola this time, they would certainly snatch some of the danglers away to their deaths: Kelloman, perhaps, or Heuve, Marmion, the Guardian…

  As they approached, something golden and black streaked between them and the balloon. It moved too fast for Kail to make it out, but the effect on the Swarm was instantaneous. They changed course to follow, shrieking with anger.

  Only as the shape came around did Kail recognise it: Skender and Chu, trailing five angry wraiths in their wake.

  “Kail!” The cry drew his attention to much more immediate and urgent matters. Marmion was dangling one-armed from the lower edge of the gondola, making no headway to safety. “I can't hold on!”

  Kail checked their altitude. The canopy was visible through the fog, but the fall would still be fatal. He shifted position again, swinging across the protruding back of a seat so he stood directly over where Marmion hung, gripping the side of the gondola with grim desperation.

  “Give me your free hand,” Kail said, making sure he was securely anchored before reaching out, ignoring the sharp tearing in his chest. “I'll pull you up.”

  Marmion swung his right arm up and over the edge of the gondola. Only then did Kail realise the stupidity of his request: Marmion had no free hand to reach up with. The only hand he had was busy holding on.

  That changed everything. He needed to stretch much further in order to catch Marmion's arm above the elbow. Anything lower than that and Marmion could literally slip through his fingers. But his reach wasn't great enough. He needed to be much closer, and there wasn't time to move.

  It looked to him as though Marmion hadn't considered that problem either. He had still not come to terms with his missing hand. In his mind it was still there. Even as their arms swung towards each other, it was clear that Kail would fall short by centimetres.

  Yet, as he took what grip he could on Marmion's fo
rearm, a hand gripped his forearm in return—a hand where no hand existed. Fingers clutched him, squeezing so tightly they hurt. Cold raced up the bone of his right arm and set the wound in his chest aflame.

  His eyes revealed the lie of it, but his body reacted instinctively. He leaned back, shifting his weight to pull Marmion aboard. To his amazement, his grip remained firm, and so did the phantom fingers clutching his arm.

  He held on until Marmion was secured and then let go as fast as he could. He gasped with pain and felt his vision grey. The gondola rocked beneath them and fire crackled nearby. He fought a wave of dizziness.

  Marmion was trying to tell him something, but the words didn't reach him. The ghost hand had somehow woken the wound in his chest, and he could think no further than that.

  Griel hollered and Kail wrenched his eyes open. The balloon had made it to the treetops, but fire was closing fast. The air was thick with smoke and particles of ash, and from nearby came the sound of flames roaring and trees exploding. People were already climbing out, clutching branches and shimmying down them to the solid ground below. Kail forced himself to move when his turn came, keeping his eyes firmly on the bark and leaves before his eyes, not even looking for Marmion.

  Griel dropped down last, all arms and toothy grimace, having set the engines on full and letting the balloon roar up into the sky—a distraction for Skender and Chu, should they need it. Kelloman was racing around, drawing some sort of charm in the earth and chanting loudly. To ward off the fire, Kail eventually worked out. His head was ringing loudly and he thought he might throw up.

  “It's here somewhere,” he heard Marmion saying. “Find it, quickly!”

  Kail slumped forward onto his knees. Rosevear caught him barely in time. In the intense heat, the young warden's curling hair was shrivelling. “Are you okay? We need to stand in the charm or it won't protect us.”

  Kail pushed him away. “The Swarm—got to—”