Death Weavers

by Brandon Mull

  What if they could all immobilize him as Keko had? What if some were more powerful than her? Even if they weren’t, Cole knew he wouldn’t be able to resist so many.

  He drew his sword. The blade glowed with a soft light. He hadn’t tried using his power here. What if being an echo helped him rekindle his abilities?

  Searching inside, Cole couldn’t feel his power. Undaunted, he pointed the Jumping Sword up ahead and shouted, “Away!” The sword offered no forward tug. He tried a few more times with no result.

  Why couldn’t he access his ability? It was there someplace. He had used it when touching the Founding Stone. If only he could use his sword to bound across the echolands, Keko and her friends would have no chance of catching him.

  Cole wondered if they had spied him on the hilltop. Since he had seen them, the reverse was probably true. At least one of them must have spotted him. None had appeared to be running. If he kept a good pace, maybe he could outdistance them through sheer willpower.

  Or maybe they hadn’t run because others were up ahead.

  The thought made him slow to a jog. Were they driving him toward danger? Was he being corralled? Would it be smarter to hide and hope they passed him by? Keko had sensed the message that cloaked his music. If he hid, would she lead everyone right to him?

  Cole passed groves of trees and some lower hills. He stayed away from high ground for fear of being spotted. He vigilantly did his best to look and listen in all directions.

  He saw no people. It became hard to gauge how long he had been running. The sky remained the same. Landmarks came and went.

  From up ahead, he heard the whistling music of a slipstream. He listened for a bridge but didn’t hear one. When the channel came into view, there was no bridge in sight. This slipstream was narrower than the other channel, but Cole’s best jump would barely get him a third of the way across the skinniest stretch he saw.

  Once again Cole looked inside for his power. The Jumping Sword could save him if he got it working. The power was in him somewhere, blocked, hibernating. There had to be a way to awaken it. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to even try. Searching intently in his desperation, he still perceived no hint of his ability.

  As Cole drew near the channel, he pointed the Jumping Sword at the far side. “Away!” he cried, to no avail. He mustered all his need, all his will. “Away!” The sword did not react. His efforts amounted to nothing more than heartfelt wishes.

  Cole reached the streaming ether and strained his ears for music like he had heard at the previous bridge. Sensing nothing, he turned right, running hard.

  After a few minutes he heard the reassuring sound of a bridge ahead. The welcome music cheered him onward.

  When he finally saw the bridge, four people were waiting for him. They stood on the near side of the span. Looking back and off to the side, Cole saw another five people run into view, including Keko. Legs pumping, she grinned wildly.

  Cole drew his sword.

  As Keko and her friends closed on him, Cole ended up with his back to the slipstream and a semicircle of enemies confronting him—five men and four women. “Put the sword down, kid,” Keko said.

  Cole shook his head. “Back off, guys. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “We don’t mind if you try,” one of the men said.

  Cole glanced over his shoulder at the blurred rush of the slipstream. “Might be better to just take a dive,” he said, hoping to stall them.

  Several of the people began gesturing, and Cole couldn’t move. This time his attempted struggles did nothing. His toes, his head, his eyes—everything was firmly locked in place.

  “We’re not going to hurt you,” Keko said. “You can’t get away. You may as well come quietly.”

  Cole couldn’t move his lips to reply. He was out of options. He had already failed! Maybe if he played along he could eventually find a chance to escape.

  “Free his head,” Keko said.

  Once again Cole could move his eyes and his lips. “You’re making a big mistake. You should let me go.”

  The man who had spoken earlier held a finger to his lips. Everyone fell silent. At first Cole heard nothing. Then came the distant drumming of galloping hooves. A whinny reached them, just loud and shrill enough to be heard above the nearby music.

  Several of the people exchanged glances and started muttering.

  “Is it . . . ?”

  “Couldn’t be.”

  “What do we do?”

  Keko waved her arms. “Stay calm!” She neither looked nor sounded calm.

  The pounding hooves came rapidly closer. Cole began to hear thrilling music, evoking a potent blend of excitement and danger.

  Keko’s companions stopped making gestures and chanting. Most of them scattered. Cole found he could move again.

  And then the horse burst into view. The enormous steed had a coat like thunderclouds. Whether it was the way the muscles rippled as the horse ran, or how the hair caught the light, the coloring of the coat seemed to be in motion, highlights shifting like smoke in the wind.

  “Good luck!” Keko shrieked at Cole as she ran off to one side.

  The thrilling music surged as the horse chased the fleeing echoes, running them down with ease. The animal bumped a woman into the slipstream and trampled two men. The echoes fled in all directions.

  Cole gaped at the rampaging steed. Could it be the same horse that had helped him back in Necronum? What could it be doing here in the echolands? Might there be a team of horses mysteriously on his side?

  The horse did not pursue all the fleeing echoes. As they got farther away and spread out wider, the horse circled back to Cole. He sheathed his sword.

  The horse came and stood before him. Cole’s head was lower than its back. Even with the horse up close and standing still, its hair flowed and swirled like churning clouds. The large head bent down to Cole and nudged him with its nose.

  Cole hesitantly petted it.

  The horse nudged him again, then turned sideways.

  Was he supposed to get on?

  There were no reins, no saddle. How was he supposed to ride a horse so mighty and fierce without any equipment? How was he even supposed to climb up?

  As if reading his mind, the steed crouched. Cole saw that some of the fleeing echoes had slowed and were looking back at him.

  Cole swallowed. This was his only chance. Stretching to grip the black mane in one hand, Cole jumped and pulled and managed to swing a leg over the top. The horse straightened, and Cole found himself sitting much higher than he ever had astride a horse, legs forced wide by the broad back. He stroked the horse’s meaty neck. The coat felt soft and smooth beneath his palm.

  The horse trotted away from the slipstream. A trot was typically a bouncy gait, but this horse made it feel like gentle rocking. The animal turned and charged the channel. Made breathless by the sudden acceleration, Cole squeezed with his knees and gripped the silky mane with both hands.

  Was the horse insane?

  They cleared the channel in a fluid leap that temporarily made Cole feel he had mounted Pegasus. Air rushed over him, and his stomach tingled. The landing hardly jounced Cole, and at a full gallop the powerful horse felt unbelievably stable beneath him, bobbing mildly.

  Glancing back, Cole watched the channel rapidly recede and saw Keko and her friends beyond it. Ahead, more paradisiacal gardens awaited.

  “Where are we going?” Cole wondered aloud.

  The horse just kept running.

  CHAPTER

  17

  HALL OF GLORY

  Cole had galloped on a horse before but felt sure he had never gone half this fast. It was as though he had only driven go-carts, and suddenly, he had a sports car. No, a bullet bike.

  Except he wasn’t really driving.

  This was more of a levcar experience.

  With a lot more wind in his face.

  Where had this horse come from? Where was it taking him? When a similar steed had rescued him in N
ecronum, Cole had suspected it might have been sent by Sando. If so, he could be in serious trouble. Was it possible that Sando wanted to free Cole from Keko so he could catch him personally?

  Wherever the huge, powerful animal was taking him, there wasn’t much Cole could do about it. If the horse bucked or reared, Cole would go flying. To jump off at this speed would be suicide, and the horse never slowed.

  “I’m trying to go to the Hundred Forests,” Cole exclaimed. “To the Sweet Channel Charnel House.”

  The horse gave no indication of hearing him and didn’t change course. If they were going in the wrong direction, Cole would have a lot of ground to make up. At least he hadn’t been captured. That was something.

  Cole held on and tried to enjoy the ride. The exhilarating music of the tireless horse gave him hope that it meant no harm. Judging by what he heard and felt, the horse might not be safe, but it also didn’t feel evil. Nothing in the music suggested that anybody was controlling it. One of the main emotions that came across was fierce independence.

  “Thanks for rescuing me,” Cole said. “I don’t know if you can understand, but I appreciate it.”

  The horse gave no response.

  “Can I call you Thunder?” Cole asked. “You look like a storm cloud.”

  The horse raised no objection.

  They galloped onward. Forests and fields came and went. Hills rose into view only to shrink behind them. Cole occasionally glimpsed towns and villages. He caught distant fragments of unusual music both pleasant and threatening. They crossed several channels, jumping the narrow ones, using bridges when the slipstreams were too broad, always at a relentless gallop.

  When Thunder finally slowed, it took Cole by surprise. He had grown used to the rhythm of the hoofbeats, the steady wind in his face, and the vegetation blurring by.

  The horse came to a stop. Cole patted the muscular neck. “Do you need food?”

  Thunder gave no answer.

  “Is this where I get off?”

  Thunder snorted, head bobbing.

  Cole slid off to the ground, stumbling because of the height of the drop. Thunder took a couple of steps away, looked back, whickered softly, then stormed off.

  “Thank you!” Cole called.

  As usual, Thunder made no reply.

  Cole watched the horse until it galloped out of view. As Thunder’s music faded, Cole noticed other unusual music, like the fanfare he might hear at the start of a big event or perhaps announcing the arrival of royalty. The bold music promised splendor and spectacle and called strongly to his sense of adventure.

  He paused. Could it be the homesong? Elana had told him he would know the call of the Other when he heard it. This music didn’t feel like leaving the world behind, nor did it make him feel entranced. He could go toward or away from it as he chose. The music was about participating in the world, not leaving it.

  Unsure which direction would take him toward the Hundred Forests, Cole followed the grand music. The clearer the music became, the more he wanted to participate in whatever was going on. It was the most appealing music he had heard in the echolands so far. He started to run for fear of what he might otherwise miss.

  As he came around a stand of tall trees, a sprawling building appeared, filling most of the valley before him. The white stone masonry and shining gold accents gave it the feel of a flashy mansion. Cole had seen no larger structure in his life, including the First Castle, as well as shopping malls back home. Ranging from a couple stories to several stories tall, the irregular monstrosity just kept going and going, as if an architect had designed the biggest building ever and then added several other huge buildings for good measure, connecting everything with walls and walkways and courtyards.

  Cole jogged down into the valley, heading for a large set of golden doors. A pair of soldiers stood out front, a man and a woman, dressed in showy golden breastplates and helmets, each holding a spear. Cole slowed as he reached the steps leading up to the doors. The powerfully built guards stared out beyond him. The exciting music blared louder than ever.

  “Can I come in?” Cole called.

  The female guard looked down at him. “You hear the music.”

  Cole chuckled. Her comment seemed like a joke because it was so loud. “Hard to miss.”

  “To those who hear it,” the male guard replied. “Enter, friend.”

  Cole climbed the steps and paused at the doors. Both guards stood much taller than him. “You have weapons,” he said.

  “Such is our honor,” the female replied firmly.

  “What is this place?” Cole asked.

  “Its music tells the tale better than any name,” the male said. “Most call it the Hall of Glory. You are young and bright to hear its song.” He saluted with his spear.

  “Is my sword a problem?” Cole asked.

  The female grinned. “It’s an endorsement. Wear it well.”

  One of the two doors stood a little ajar. “Thanks,” Cole said, and pushed through.

  The music and feel inside were completely different from outside, the brash fanfare giving way to calm, soothing tones. He entered a vast chamber with a high ceiling of stained glass. A fountain burbled in the center of the room—an obvious luxury in a land with little water. Soft snatches of conversation rebounded in the cavernous space. Men and women mingled in diverse attire—some dressed like knights, others in fine clothes or more common outfits. He saw one man wearing a dark blue United States military uniform.

  A gentleman in a white wig and tricornered hat wandered up to Cole. He removed his hat and bowed. “Hamilton Hayes, at your service,” the man said. “What brings a young, bright echo to our hall?”

  “The music,” Cole said. “And I’m looking for directions.”

  Hamilton gave an easy chuckle. “You’ve come to the right place, my boy. I don’t know much about the local geography, but the combined knowledge of those assembled here could map out more than one world for you. Somebody will know.”

  “Who comes here?” Cole asked.

  “You already know the answer,” Hamilton said. “Those who hear the clarion call of glory. The boldest and most heroic men and women, whose hearts are acquainted with passion and sacrifice.”

  “Not everybody hears the music of this place?” Cole asked.

  The man gave a little frown. “Many are quite deaf to it, I’m afraid.” Then he smiled and clapped Cole on the shoulder. “But others hear the summons loud and clear. Count yourself fortunate to stand among them. There is an entire wing of Vikings who believe this is their final destination. A rowdy but jovial crowd.”

  “Where are you from?” Cole asked.

  “I hail from Virginia,” the man answered.

  “America?” Cole asked.

  “You know it? I had you pegged as a local—Necronum or Elloweer.”

  “I came from Arizona.”

  The man chuckled. “I’ve heard of it, though it was not a state in my day. To think our modest colonies expanded from ocean to ocean! You will find folk from various worlds here. The echolands are a crossroads.” Hamilton tipped his hat forward and wandered off.

  Cole watched him walk away. How long had that guy been here? Since Colonial times? Cole wanted to ask more questions, but Hamilton seemed to be on his way somewhere.

  Cole started roaming. All the rooms were beautiful. Many were enormous. The more Cole paid attention, the more he found little rooms and yards hidden here and there. Most rooms had sparse furnishings, but some of the smaller ones were cozier. Many rooms had tables set out with fruit and vegetables on them. Cole found greenhouses and lush, open-air courtyards.

  The diversity of echoes continued to impress. Cole could have been behind the scenes at a movie studio where a variety of period films were simultaneously in production. Rugged mountain men chatted with Romans in togas. Primitively dressed tribesmen walked alongside military nurses. Some outfits looked completely foreign. A few echoes had the heads of wolves or cats.

  Down one
hall Cole spotted a short echo with grasshopper legs and translucent wings. Thinking of Twitch, Cole ran to catch up.

  “Excuse me,” Cole said when he got close.

  The slender man turned. “What is it?” He sounded defensive.

  “You’re one of the grinaldi!”

  The man blinked. “Are you also from the Ellowine wetlands?”

  “No, but I’m friends with one of your people. Twitch.”

  The man appeared thoughtful. “I’m not familiar with the name. Might be from before my time. I died a short while ago in the Battle of Kasori.”

  “When the swamp people took over?” Cole asked.

  “No, lad, when the Halfknight helped us reclaim our villages.”

  “Wait,” Cole said. “You met the Halfknight? Then you must have met Twitch. He would have brought the Halfknight to Kasori. I was with him when he met Minimus.”

  Realization dawned on the man’s face. “You mean Ruben,” he said. “Twitch must be a nickname.”

  “That’s right,” Cole said. “He got Twitch from the Sky Raiders.”

  The man shook Cole’s hand. “I’m Zig. Any friend of Ruben’s is a friend of mine. He and Minimus saved us!”

  “Tell me what happened,” Cole said eagerly. “I never heard.”

  Zig smiled warmly. “It was beautiful. You’ve heard of Renford and the swamp folk?”

  “The basics,” Cole said. “They defeated your champions, took over your villages, and managed them poorly.”

  “It was a grim day when that scoundrel came to town,” Zig mourned. “He and his lot kept inventing new ways to degrade our community. Good fields went to waste, productive livestock were mismanaged, stores we had built up over years were raided, and our people were basically enslaved. It was horrible.”

  “But Twitch came. I mean Ruben.”

  “Twitch will serve, if that’s how you know him. He shows up unannounced one day with a tiny knight claiming to be the champion of Wenachi, the one grinaldi village too remote to earn the attention of the swamp folk. The grinaldi are not large in stature, but this knight in full armor was at least a head shorter than all but our children. Imagine our surprise when he marches up to Renford and challenges him for the championship.”