Death Weavers (37 page)

From the distance, Cole began to notice hints of a sweet melody. Only catching it in snippets, he strained to hear it better. The little he could discern seemed to be the prettiest, most welcoming music he had ever heard. And the beacon was taking them in that direction.

“Do you guys hear that pretty music?” Cole asked. “Kind of far off?”

Harvan laughed. “You're finally starting to apprehend it? I wondered how long it would take.”

“The homesong has never been more distinct,” Winston said.

“You guys have been hearing it?” Cole asked.

“For a long time,” Harvan said. “It's much louder than the music of this emptiness.”

That wasn't true for Cole. “I can barely hear it,” he confessed.

“That's why we didn't mention it,” Harvan said. “We were glad you were deaf to the summons. The call of the Other is probably the biggest threat out here on the fringe. When it gets hold of people, they wander off in a trance, never to return.”

“What I hear sounds beautiful,” Cole said.

“Try not to focus on it,” Winston said.

“Like it or not, you'll hear it more clearly over time,” Harvan explained. “It will only get harder to resist.”

“The beacon is dampening the effects,” Winston said. “Even so, I've never heard the homesong this powerfully.”

“Think of your duty,” Harvan said. “Don't let your mind get drawn away.”

Cole tried not to listen to the call. He still caught little snatches.

“I'm curious how strong the homesong would be without the beacon,” Harvan said. “Should Cole shutter it for a moment?”

“Are you mad?” Winston asked. “The call might grab all three of us. Plus, the beacon conceals us.”

“You're right,” Harvan said. “I just get curious.”

“You want to hear the music more distinctly,” Winston said. “You want to wallow in it. You want to gargle it without swallowing. I don't blame you. So do I. But that's a deadly game.”

Cole wanted to hear it more clearly too. “Are you guys going to be all right?” he asked.

“We both have a good deal of experience resisting,” Harvan said. “If we start to wander off course, snap us out of it. We're not just going to disappear.”

“Our lifespark could escape,” Winston said.

“Not if our minds hold firm,” Harvan said. “Destiny needs us. Prescia trusted us. The world could fall without us.”

They kept running. Cole tried not to listen as the call of the Other rang out more clearly. Between the unchanging landscape and the unchanging sky, Cole lost all sense of time. He thought back to other places he had been—the orange terrain, the black-sand desert, the Deadlands, the paradise of the central echolands, Necronum, Junction, Zeropolis, Elloweer, Sambria, and Arizona. He needed to remind himself that there was more to existence than running across this changeless expanse.

Finally, little bumps began to take shape on the horizon before them.

“You two see those hills?” Winston asked.

“Yes,” Harvan confirmed.

The hills gradually came closer, rising higher. Beyond them, a lone mountain began to take shape, dark, steep, and surreally tall.

“Now that is a mountain,” Winston said.

“I've never seen its equal,” Harvan said. “I know of no serious mountain in the echolands.”

“The beacon is pulling straight at it,” Cole said.

“Hear the music yet?” Harvan asked.

“A little,” Winston said.

“Not yet,” Cole said.

“You'll like it,” Harvan said. “The sound fits.”

As the foothills approached, Cole began to hear their music. At the beginning of the hills, the song of the mountain came through, its magnificent music dramatic and powerful.

“I hear it now,” Cole said as they started into the hills.

“Impressive, right?” Harvan said. “I think we've made it.”

“How long have we been running?” Cole asked.

“I usually have some sense of the passing time,” Harvan said. “I'm at a loss now. Many days. Possibly weeks. The black dunes threw me. And the white plain was worse.”

They continued across the foothills, the forbidding mountain looming above them. Cole considered the steep stone surfaces, angular and raw. The lofty summit appeared unreachable.

“We're going to climb that?” Cole asked.

“Keep trusting the beacon,” Harvan said. “We'll go part of the way with you.”

“Wait,” Cole said, “what will you do when I take away the beacon?”

“We'll do as we've always done,” Harvan said. “We'll hold on.”

“The music of the mountain is strong,” Winston said. “It might help counter the call of the Other.”

“We'll test it at the base of the mountain,” Harvan said. “Not by closing the shutter. We'll walk away and see how we fare.”

“Not a bad idea,” Winston said.

Compared to crossing the white plain, the mountain drew rapidly nearer. The hills became darker and stonier, piling up against the base of the mountain itself.

Harvan halted. After going nonstop for so long, the absence of running felt very strange to Cole.

Hands on his hips, Harvan looked around. “I'd say we're on the shoulders of the mountain now. Should I walk away?”

“Go ahead,” Winston said.

“Sit tight,” Harvan said, jogging away from them.

The music of the mountain now saturated Cole enough that he could no longer hear the beckoning melody of the Other. Hopefully, that was a positive sign.

Harvan kept going until he looked to be about an inch tall. After a few minutes he returned.

“Wow,” Harvan said. “It won't be easy. I didn't intend to go so far, or stay away so long. It wasn't easy to return. I focused hard on our mission, and the music of the mountain, and I barely made it back.”

“Should I try it?” Winston asked.

“Don't go as far as I did,” Harvan said. “You'll feel it after about ten steps.”

“Ten paces,” Winston said resolutely. He then took ten steps away counting each one. He stopped. Then took another. And another.

“Winston?” Harvan called.

Winston turned, his eyes closed, his mouth bent in a dreamy smile. He swayed.

“We're going to lose him,” Harvan muttered. “Winston! Return at once!”

Winston started walking away.

“Stay here,” Harvan said to Cole. He ran after Winston and shook his shoulder. Winston shrugged away from him, so Harvan grabbed an arm and pulled. By the time they reached Cole, Winston was blinking and looked disoriented.

“I've never felt anything like that,” Winston said.

“Did you try to focus on the mountain?” Harvan asked.

Winston shook his head. “I had no control. I was gone. Our mission dropped out of my mind. The homesong never claimed me like that before. I didn't hear the mountain. I didn't hear my own thoughts. I was too . . . relaxed. Blissful.”

“What do we do?” Cole asked.

“We'll climb part of the way together,” Harvan said. “When you go on ahead, I'll take responsibility for Winston. I'll pin him down if I must. The duty might actually help my focus.”

“I'll try harder,” Winston said. “Maybe it'll help that I know what to expect.”

Cole stared at the two men. What if he returned from the mountaintop and they were gone? It would be awful!

Harvan held up a finger. “Hear that?”

“What?” Winston asked, cocking his head.

Harvan looked around. “Someone is coming. Fast. Too fast.” He looked up, then pointed. “There!”

Cole followed his finger to five specks in the sky coming their way. “Birds?” Cole asked.

“Wind riders,” Harvan said. “I've heard rumors. Never actually seen any. What are they doing out here?”

“Coming toward us,” Winston said.

Cole squinted. The specks were drawing rapidly nearer. He could now make out wings.

“How'd they find us?” Winston asked.

“Maybe they noticed us when we walked away from the beacon,” Harvan said.

“Why are they anywhere near this place?” Winston asked. “We're way off the map.”

“Could they be good guys?” Cole asked.

“Shapecrafters,” Harvan said. “I hear their music.”

“Do we hide?” Cole asked.

“No point,” Harvan said. “They've already spotted us. They're coming right at us. Cole, if I say the word, you run for it.”

“But—”

“No argument, Cole,” Winston said.

“All else aside, we can't let the Weaver's Beacon fall into their hands,” Harvan said. “Let them land. I'll talk to them. We'll find out what they want. If it turns into a brawl, Cole, you run up that mountain as fast as your legs will carry you. Strong wills, gentlemen. Don't let them bind you.”

As the shapecrafters flew closer, Cole could see that they were men with gliders on their backs. They swooped down and landed perhaps a hundred yards away. They wore the wings like backpacks and shrugged out of them after landing.

Cole recognized one of them. “Sando,” he said.

“Really?” Harvan asked. “That guy is everywhere!”

As the five shapecrafters came closer, Cole saw that one was a woman. Sando took the lead, revealing his bare gums with a wide grin.

“Young sir!” he called. “I thought our paths might cross again! And not a moment too soon! You have strayed too close to the Other.”

“Come no closer,” Harvan said firmly, stepping in front of Cole.

“Back away,” Winston suggested to Cole out the side of his mouth.

Cole retreated several paces.

Sando came to a halt ten yards from Harvan. “You are in terrible danger, young sir. This mountain is haunted by a vicious fiend. Very little lies beyond this accursed place. Let us carry you to safety.”

“How did you find him, Sando?” Harvan asked.

“It helps to anticipate where your quarry needs to go,” Sando said. “Young sir is looking for someone. The fiend of this mountain has considerable knowledge. Let's keep this civil, Harvan Kane. You don't want to meet your end here. Who would tell the story?”

“What do you expect us to do?” Harvan asked.

“What any reasonable person does when outnumbered and outclassed,” Sando said. “Surrender.”

“Is that my reputation?” Harvan asked. “Reasonable?”

Sando pointed at Harvan with two fingers. The four shapecrafters flanking Sando began gesturing and chanting. Suddenly, Harvan and Winston were not moving. Harvan trembled. Winston stayed still as a statue.

Cole felt nothing. He drew his sword. “Get out of here, Sando.” He stepped closer to Harvan and Winston, bathing them more fully in light from the beacon. Both men shook off their paralysis.

Sando glared at the female shapecrafter. “The boy,” he murmured.

“I've never felt such a slippery target,” she complained.

Sando narrowed his eyes. Then they widened. “You have an interesting lamp, young sir. Unusual craftsmanship. It resembles one that is meant to stay safely hidden. Surely you have not brought it into jeopardy at the periphery of the echolands?”

Harvan twirled his walking stick and looked over his shoulder at Cole. “Time for you to go.”

“Let me help,” Cole said, holding the beacon higher in one hand while swinging his sword with the other.

Harvan glared at him. “Don't worry about me. I live for these moments. We all have a part to play. Go. Now.”

Cole stared at Sando, whose trickery had led to the capture of Mira, Jace, and Joe. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to find out how many chops it would take to physically destroy an echo.

Sando grinned even wider. “Come, giver of silver. I believe you have a grievance to settle with me. We can talk of your squealing little friends.”

“Cole,” Harvan said, his voice hard. “Now.”

“Listen to him,” Winston said.

Cole turned and ran. Tears stung his eyes. Harvan and Winston were right. It was his duty to run. But it still felt cowardly.

He glanced back. Winston wrestled with a shapecrafter. Harvan thumped a man to the ground with his walking stick, then immediately fell back. He wasn't attacking. He was maneuvering to keep himself between the shapecrafters and Cole. At least they weren't paralyzed.

Cole stumbled, dropping his sword to catch himself. He kept the beacon from touching the ground. He picked up the Jumping Sword and sheathed the blade, then sprinted with all his might, following the tug of the lantern.

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