The Hammer Unfalls

“Got everything?”

They stood outside of the hallway that led to the moving chamber. Glim checked his pack, and his sword. Ryn had given him a rope, which he double checked was coiled in his pack.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Ryn cocked her floppy felt hat and walked into the hallway. She opened the brass door at the end. Glim followed her into the tiny room with the eight seats. He sat on one and started to buckle himself in.

“No need for that,” Ryn said, punching buttons on a panel next to the lever on the wall. She slammed it up. The chamber vibrated, and Glim felt movement. But nothing like the feeling of plummeting over a cliff as he had before.

“Going back up is much smoother.” Ryn set her pack down, and leaned her walking stick against the wall. She took off her hat and cloak, and piled them onto the floor. She pressed a button on the side of her seat and pulled it out from the wall, forming a cot, which she stretched out on.

Glim followed her lead. He unbuckled his scabbard and set his sword to the side. He dropped his pack and cloak. He fumbled around, looking for a button. It sank under his touch with a satisfying click, and his seat cushion slid from the wall. Glim hopped onto it, testing the comfort, and found it quite pleasant.

“How long until the next tower?” he asked.

“Half a day. You can sleep if you want.”

--------------- ~~~ *** ~~~ ---------------

“We’re here,” Ryn said, shaking Glim awake. He swatted at an errant stream of drool that had found its way out of the corner of his mouth. Ryn laughed and reached for her pack. “Let’s eat.”

Glim rubbed the vestige of half-sleep from his eyes. Between the soft light and movement, the chamber hadn’t offered much in the way of rest. “In here?”

“Enjoy it while you can.”

“Not more spinach soup, I hope?”

“Didn’t you bring any food? Or are you lugging rocks around?”

Glim rummaged around in his pack and took out two dried apples, an oat bar, and a handful of roasted, dried bugs he’d been saving.

Ryn raised an eyebrow. “Are those fried cockroaches?”

“I think so,” Glim said.

“Trade you?” Ryn said, offering a handful of dried nuts.

“Just a few.”

They made the exchange and ate together in silence. When they’d finished, Ryn stood and stretched. “Cover up. It’s going to be chilly out there. Leave the pack. We’ll move faster that way.”

She wrapped a scarf around her face until only her eyes peeked out, then shrugged her cloak over her tunic. She left her hat on the floor and draped the hood over her head.

Glim followed suit. He had no scarf, but he could drain whatever heat remained from the air, so he figured it would be enough.

“Ready?” Ryn asked, and opened the chamber door. White blinded him and cold hit his lungs like a hammer blow. “Come on,” she said, taking Glim’s hand and leading him onto a stone platform. Metal grates like the ones above the fish tanks in the glass house extended from the platform on two sides.

Wind whipped at his clothes, blowing snow up his sleeves. He followed Ryn along the metal walkway.

“We need to check for clogs,” she said, voice rising to stay above the wind. “If these tanks back up, we won’t get the right mixture of fertilizers and our crops might fail. It all looks like ice to me. I need you to tell me if you sense anything weird.”

“Like what?” Glim asked.

“I dunno. You can sense water, right? Just look things over with me.”

Glim’s eyes had adjusted to the brightness. He looked around, and immediately wished he hadn’t. The platform and walkway perched somewhere halfway up the side of a sheer cliff face. Behind them, gray stone rose from below to above. Beneath them, the chasm of the sky opened away like a mouth waiting to swallow them up. To either side, a narrow strip of ground jutted from the mountainside, holding a row of stone tanks.

“We’ll start down here,” Ryn shouted. “It’s wider at the other end and we can rest there a bit.” She took the stairs at the end of the walkway and hopped onto the narrow strip of rock ledge. “You’re on, Icer Glim.”

As he’d been taught, Glim extended his senses to sniff out the water. He heard nothing but whistling winds, and felt nothing but cold.

You clod. Glim reached into a pouch at his belt and withdrew the silver baton Master Willow had loaned him. With a pang of guilt, Glim recalled the debate he’d had with himself about whether or not to return it before leaving Wohn-Grab. Glim was no thief, but neither was he stupid. The baton had worth. Enough to see him settled wherever he ended up.

Silver light swirled from the baton to the tank.

They walked to the next, and the light clung to it as well. So too, when they reached the third tank. Ryn glanced at the light, nodded, and and stepped to the next tank. But something bothered Glim. The waters here felt colder. More still.

“What is it?”

“This tank doesn’t feel like the others. The water isn’t moving.”

“Oh?” Ryn said, with a tone that he couldn’t decide was triumph or defeat. “Let’s take a look, then.” She set her walking stick aside and climbed a ladder on the side of the tank. “Help me out?”

Glim climbed onto the wide circle of brass. A large lever extended at the center, horizontal to the tank’s lid. Ryn grabbed one end of it and pushed. The lever started to turn. Glim took the other end and they walked, straining, unscrewing the tank’s lid. Ryn tilted it to the side, opening up a wide hole.

A sickly-sweet smell burped from the steaming access hatch. Ryn reached her hand inside and fished around, hauling up a handful of blackish-yellow sausages.

“We’re in luck! Bananas!”

“Bha-wha-whas?”

“You can eat them. Some of them, at least.”

Glim eyed the damp mass with suspicion. Ryn set the clump down and fished out several more.

“Tank three, eh? Filter must be clogged down the line. We’ll need to go check on that next.”

She sat on the lid of the tank and picked up the least-black looking sausage out of the clump. She peeled it open. A dark brown, sweet smelling mush squished inside it. “Still good,” she said, and scooped the mush into her mouth appreciatively.

Intrigued, Glim took one and opened it, to find white fuzz and black goop.

“That one’s no good,” Ryn said. “Try this one.”

It fell open with a soft pop, and Glim saw a slick cylinder of brownish yellow goo inside. He tasted it tentatively.

Pure sweetness engulfed his tastebuds. As if father had poured the whole jar of maple sap onto his oatmeal instead of just a drop. Glim shoveled the nectar into his mouth, and looked at the clump greedily. Ryn followed his gaze and laughed.

“Fine, but just a few. Or else you’ll be sitting on a bucket the whole way home. These tend to loosen your insides up a little too much.”

“Where do they come from?”

Ryn looked out over the frigid peaks along the horizon. “Down there somewhere. Near the volcanoes, perhaps. Pockets of the old world. Giant plants and such.”

“Have you ever seen one yourself?”

Ryn didn’t answer, but stood up instead.

“We need to get this tank sealed and check the others while we still have daylight.”

--------------- ~~~ *** ~~~ ---------------

Glim helped her seal the tank. The lever fell into place with a chittering clang that echoed strangely, skittering along the cliff face around them.

Ryn led Glim up the line of tanks, drawing closer and closer to the widening trail at the top, where the strip of rock met the top of the cliff. The silver light swirled each time, and nothing else seemed amiss.

“Well, that’s done then,” Ryn said, smiling. She patted the final tank. A chittering sound echoed from the walls as before, which surprised Glim. Ryn’s hand slapping against the tank hadn’t made that much of a sound.

He heard it again. Glim realized he’d been mistaken. It wasn’t an echo.

It was laughter.

The wind’s audacity surprised him. She’d never talked to him with someone else nearby. Glim had certainly talked to the wind at the wrong times. In fact, Glim was quite certain she baited him sometimes into looking like a fool. But she’d never spoken to him when others were around. What made Ryn so special that the wind would laugh in her presence? And what did the wind have on its mind that couldn’t wait for privacy?

Glim frowned, unwilling to speak to the wind first and make a fool of himself in front of Ryn. He glanced at the woman, evaluating her with a critical eye.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing! It’s nothing. I just… I thought I heard laughter on the wind. I know it’s silly, but sometimes—”

Ryn’s eyes widened. She grabbed Glim and hauled him towards the stairs at the end of the walkway. “Run!” she screamed.

Startled, Glim stared at her. But Ryn was already running for the stairs. His brain slowly caught up, and Glim chased after her.

The moment his feet touched the stairs, Glim heard laughter again. But not the wind’s. Even at her most maniacal, the wind never laughed like this. Guttural. Feral. Like teeth dragging across bone. Or splinters of glass tinkling onto a stone floor. Laughter tinged with madness.

“Is it hinterjacks?” Glim asked, panic rising.

“Hyaenas!”

Ryn flew up the stairs and shoved Glim behind her. She faced the rim of the cliff.

Looking past her, at first Glim saw nothing. Then shadows detached themselves from the ground, revealing themselves in evening’s golden light. Mottled cream and brown fur, risen into hackles. Dark eyes caught the sun from somewhere between goofy-looking ears, which flared, as if listening for prey.

The creatures cackled, sending shivers up Glim’s spine. The darkness beneath their glittering eyes split in half, becoming maw of spiky, white fangs. Long tongues lolled from the shards of their teeth.

From behind the hyaenas, somewhere Glim could not see, came answering cackles.

“Don’t move until they do. They’re trying to scare us.”

“It’s working!”

“They want to see what we’ll do. Or they would have already attacked by now.”

Ryn’s hand dropped. It held a length of braided leather. Glim watched her slip a stone into the sling’s pocket with practiced movements.

“Step back, slowly. I need room.”

Glim took a step back, and another. Ryn’s hand spun. The sling whirled into a blur.

One of the hyaenas snarled and walked onto the metal platform. Its clawed foot clanked against the lattice.

Part of Glim watched Ryn with fascination as she unleashed her slingstone. Part of him thought about how to help. And a third part was still focused on finding water. The need to escape had come upon him so suddenly that Glim was still casting his senses about. He sensed warmth.

Behind him.

Of course. Blood is the absolute simplest, crudest, and least elegant source of both heat and water, Master Willow had once told him.

“Ryn!”

Glim unsheathed his sword and spun at the same time. Just in time, for one of the three hyaenas behind him had been about to pounce. It yelped in surprise and stepped back, growling and giggling as its eyes jangled in their sockets. The other two hissed.

The air behind Glim’s ear cracked. A pained yelp came from one of the creatures stalking Ryn. The air whistled and cracked again.

The hyaenas before him snarled and leapt.

Calm fell over Glim. He pictured them like rags falling through the air in Master Willow’s study. He saw in his mind’s eye where their throats would be in the next moment, and conjured spikes of ice to meet those throats.

And just as he had in the study, Glim knew the effort would be futile. He’d never spear the first of his attackers. It had the advantage of proximity. And it wouldn’t die nearly soon enough to prevent it from ripping Glim’s own throat in two.

Glim’s sword sang as it met the crushing onslaught of the first hyaena. The creature’s own weight drew his blade through its mouth and out the side of its neck. It slobbered and thrashed, spewing blood and saliva into the air.

The tremors of aeolia told Glim that his sword had sliced free of the creature. He pivoted, planting his back foot and sloughing the weight of the creature to the side. His blade found the shoulder of the second mongrel as it passed.

Fully engaged as he pivoted, unable to do any more, Glim watched in horror as the third hyaena jumped past, already darkened with its own blood from the shard of ice he’d sent its way. Its claw found Ryn’s back.

She buckled, but regained her feet immediately. Her staff lanced out like a viper’s strike, crushing bone. The stunned hyaena crumpled to the ground in a shuddering heap to join another she’d already taken down.

“Ryn!” Glim screamed, his voice catching up to events that had already occurred. He drew his sword back sharply, dislodging the thrashing hyaena that yelped and swiped at him from the end of his blade. The draw cut severed its forearm. Mostly, anyway.

The gardener stumbled. Glim shoved Ryn behind him and brought his blade to bear. A slavering pack of beasts cackled at him from the walkway, studying their fallen. Meat enough to satisfy the living. They hesitated.

“Hurry,” Ryn said behind him.

Stepping carefully backward over the still-twitching bodies, eyes glued to the enemies watching their retreat, Glim fell back inside the brass chamber and slammed the door shut.