Fallen (51 page)

Ramus could think of no reply.

Steam rose from the ground. It came up from between rocks, bleeding from the soil and wafting higher until the slight breeze caught it and strung it out. As Ramus and Lulah went farther, they found larger vents, gushing steam in a gentle, almost constant flow. The steam smelled strange. It touched the back of his nose and slicked into his throat, soothing his tongue and inspiring flashes of imagery that could not have been memories. He closed his eyes to see more, but the steam did not give itself away so easily.

“What is it?” Lulah said.

“I don't know,” Ramus said.

“It feels like I'm dreaming, but I know I'm awake.”

“We both are. We're here. Maybe there's a gas here, giving us waking hallucinations.”

“It's like being swayed,” Lulah said, “but without taking anything to get there.”

Ramus did not feel swayed. He felt more in control of his body and mind than he had since reaching the top of the cliff, but the warm, moisture-laden air he breathed was heavy with something else.

“Perhaps the God is very close,” he whispered. His voice was no louder than the steam, and he was not sure whether Lulah heard.

There were other things here, the remains of some sort of technology. Metallic legs strutted either side of the vents, and rusted arms spanned through the steam, bearing the remnants of other, more intricate things. There was little vegetation, most of it smothered by the steam, and as they walked, their boots crunched on loose, stony soil. Ramus took shallow breaths and exhaled harshly, as if to purge himself of the things circulating at the periphery of his consciousness. This was like that place he and Lulah had come across in the forests of southern Noreela, except that these bad memories were not their own.

“Leave us alone,” he said. But if the Sleeping God was close by, why should it leave them alone? Why, when Ramus sought to find it?

“Another body,” Lulah said. She sounded glad to have something to say. “There, over by that outcropping, standing with one hand against the rock. But . . .”

“But it's not all there,” Ramus said. They approached together. The stone body was deformed, containing hollows and gaps as though only part of the body had turned and the rest had decayed to nothing. He leaned in closer and saw the hint of bone protruding around the thing's chest, gray stone at its base, gradually changing to white at its snapped tip.

“Another,” Lulah said. “And another.”

The bodies here were all partial. Solid stone giving way to something with a more sandy texture, and then stone tendrils and spikes fading altogether. Bone was visible here and there, and on one of the bodies there was still a sheath of leathery skin around the unchanged skull.

“Would those words do this?” Lulah asked.

“I don't know. I know nothing.” Ramus touched one of the bodies and a thread of stone linking one exposed rib to the next crumbled between his fingers.

“Whatever these things are, I hope there are no living ones close by.” Lulah hefted her sword in one hand, a short knife in the other.

The atmosphere here was hot with steam, heavy with moisture and thick with thoughts neither of them could explain. Ramus's breath wheezed with the effort of breathing the saturated air, and every now and then he saw shapes that implied movement, direction and purpose. But when he blinked, the shapes resolved into nothing more than steam wisps. Lulah must have been seeing the same thing because she walked ahead of him, constantly dipping down into a defensive stance when a fresh breath of warm air passed by.

They passed several more stone things, none of them Noreelan. It was as if no Noreelan had ever been allowed to reach this place.
Perhaps I really am the first person here,
Ramus thought, but the idea did not thrill him as much as it should.

Another gush of warm air, more dancing shapes. And this time Ramus felt something through his feet, as though the ground itself rumbled to the scent of the breeze.

“What was that?” Lulah whispered.

“I don't know.” If Nomi were here with him she could tell him of the Ventgorian Steam Plains, how the ground acted there, what the sounds were and the smells, the feels and tastes, and perhaps she would even know the cause of those brief, haunting visions that plagued him.

A cloud of steam a hundred steps to his right swirled and dissolved around a shadow. Ramus blinked, expecting the shape to fade away into the air, but when he looked again, it was still there. It moved slowly, long arms and legs shifting up and down as though to mimic the shape of steam.

“Lulah,” Ramus whispered.

The Serian had already seen it. She crouched down before Ramus, wielding her sword and knife. The shape advanced. It was the same as the solidified creatures they had seen, only this one was whole. A rapid clicking noise came from its mouth, a chuckle or words in an unknown tongue, and Ramus was about to step forward and try to communicate with it when three more emerged from the steam around them.

They had been stalked, and now was the attack.

There was more movement underfoot as a sheet of steam hushed from the ground to their left.

And Ramus thought,
Heartbeat.

HIS OWN HEART
thundered in his chest. He wanted to help, but he could not. He clasped the charms that hung around his neck—animal bone, holed stone, Konrad's fingers—but he had never been a true charm breather, either, and they felt like nothing more than cheap trinkets.

Lulah sidestepped the first thing's charge and lashed out, catching it across the back of its thin legs and sending a splash of blood through the air. It howled and fell, hooting as it reached around to the wounds.

The Serian rushed back to Ramus but the other things were already there, grabbing for his legs and arms. A closed fist bashed the side of his head and his vision swam. He vomited, and blood ran warmly from his nose and mouth. He felt strong hands squeeze around his arms and legs and suddenly he was held aloft, carried between the two things as they ran quickly back up the gentle incline.

“Ramus!” Lulah shouted. He heard her but he could not twist his head to see, and he could not tell precisely what happened next. Footsteps pounded at the gravelly ground, something swished at the air—an arrow or crossbow bolt—and he heard a cry that definitely was not human.

A pause, more footsteps and then another cry. This one
was
human, and he recognized Lulah's tone as it lowered into a hoarse curse. Metal struck stone, something grunted, and then that same human shriek erupted again. This time it was cut off suddenly. Something metal clattered to the ground, closely followed by something of flesh and bone.

“Lulah!” Ramus shouted, and the thing holding his knees squeezed hard. He shrieked with pain and the creature holding his arms squeezed as well, crunching fingers into biceps and bones until he felt they would burst and shatter. He bit his lip, shaking his head at the pain ebbing and flowing across his body like drifts of steam. He managed to swallow his scream.

The air grew cooler and lighter, and glancing to the side he could see the outskirts of the ruined village they had just passed through. The things skirted around, apparently not wishing to take the more direct route.

Just as one of them smacked the side of his head to make him look up at the sky once more, he glimpsed one of the grotesque stone statues.

And he wondered what exactly had become of Konrad.

I can do this,
he thought.
I have the words. I have the knowledge. Whether it's the voice of the god or words these things speak or once spoke . . .

He started muttering and the thing squeezed his legs once more. But they slowed down, and one creature clicked and hooted to the other in what could have been surprise.

Gritting his teeth against the expected pain, Ramus closed his eyes and spoke those words all the way through. He said them loud, projecting his voice as far as he could, and when the hands crushed into his knees once more, his voice rose into a shout . . . but still those words flowed.

They dropped him. He managed to get one arm out to break his fall but still it knocked the breath from him. He looked up, expecting to see them fall upon him with bared teeth and clawed hands.

One of them had gone to its knees and raised its hands to its ears. He only saw from the back, but he could hear the crackle of crunching stone, and the thing's skin turned from pale pink to gray, hair hardening and snapping from its scalp. The creature whined slightly, trying to shout through flesh becoming less and less responsive, and its fingers closed in like the legs of a dying spider. One of them snapped off and bounced from its shoulder.

Ramus rolled onto his stomach and looked behind him. The other thing was there on its knees, hands down by its sides. Its body beneath the ragged clothes was cool, gray and hard, and he was sure it must be dead. But then its eyes grew wider in a look of delayed shock, and the gray tide flowed up from its neck and painted its head as stone. Hair stopped swaying in the breeze, three of the thing's teeth shattered and its eyes lost their depth.

Ramus took in a deep breath and stood.
I did it.
He grimaced against the pain in his knees and arms, closed his eyes when his head throbbed agonizingly several times.
Not now, don't strike me down now, after I did that.
He breathed deeply, started back toward the village, and the pain in his head faded to an ache.

He started running, his muscles finding strength from somewhere, and his compacted knees, creaking at every step, carried him as faithfully as ever.

As he entered the ruined village, one of the things came into view from behind a line of stark dead trees. Ramus shouted the words. It turned to flee, eyes going wide in shock, and he did not even stop to see it turn. As he dashed by he heard a sharp crack as something ruptured.

Ramus tried to ignore the effects of the steam breaths. He felt the movement beneath his feet again, heard the hissing of venting steam and tried to steer himself to the spot where the creatures had fallen upon them. He felt so dreadfully alone, and the power he had in those words removed him even further from the world. He barely knew himself anymore.

He saw one of the creatures before him, kneeling forward with blood dripping from its cleaved skull. Lulah's short knife was jammed into its throat. It was dead, but still he gave it a wide berth.

He thought of calling her name, but he did not know how many more were out there.

The Serian appeared from behind a low shrub. She must have been squatting, but she rose quickly to her full height, swinging the sword in an arc that would slice off the top of Ramus's skull.

He started to mutter those words. He could not help himself. They came from within him, yet he was theirs too, wielded by them instead of wielding them himself. As Lulah's eyes went wide and she let go of her sword, Ramus bit his tongue. Blood gushed into his mouth.

“Piss on me, Ramus, I almost took off your fucking head.”

He smiled a bloody smile, and Lulah smiled back. “And I nearly turned you to stone.”

Lulah dashed across to where she had dropped a knife, and only then did Ramus notice her left hand, mangled and flapping.

“What happened?”

She glanced down at her hand, then away again quickly. “Bastard bit me as I was cutting its throat.” Her hand was ruined. Three fingers were gone, and the rest of it was a distorted mess. “We have to sort that out,” Ramus said.

“Not yet. We go. Away from here, away from this pissing steam, and when we find somewhere—”

They both heard the hoots and clicks of the things closing in. There were too many voices to count, and Lulah's face fell. “Ramus, I don't think I—”

“Run,” he said. He nodded deeper into the valley. “That way. They're coming from both sides, so we leave. Don't stop running. You need to be far enough away so that you can't hear my voice.”

“Ramus—”

“It's our only hope!”

“No.
You
could go, I could stay and hold them off.”

“Achieving what?”

Lulah winced as her hand banged against her leg. “It's why I'm here.”

Ramus snorted. “Then you don't get paid. Run now, Lulah. No more time.” Already he could see the steam parting to his left as something came through, and behind him he heard the harsh footsteps of things running across the loose ground. Lulah ran, and Ramus turned around.

He had no idea what power he wielded, where it came from or what it was supposed to protect. But this was as basic as it came: kill, or die.

SO HE KILLED.
He waited until the last moment, then spoke words that took a few beats to utter, listening to the sounds of pursuit change to screeches of surprise and pain. Things fell to the ground behind him, some of the impacts fleshy but most hard, and in the distance he heard the tone of their calling change as those nearby fell silent.

The mist no longer drifted; it
boiled.
Upset by the creatures running through its lazy streams, it swirled and danced, added to by several loud gushes from vents behind and to Ramus's left. Something came at him and he said those words again, louder this time, and hoped Lulah was far enough away to avoid their effect. The thing skidded past him and struck another changed creature, both of them tumbling to the ground and shattering. Stunned by what he had done he fell silent, almost forgetting that they were still coming at him.