Deadhouse Landing

Halting, Kellanved gestured ahead to the great hulking construct, then opened his arms wide. ‘As I thought,’ he announced, ‘a Sky Fortress of the K’Chain Che’Malle.’

Dancer was not surprised; he’d already suspected as much. Studying the great broken edifice, its exposed galleries, floors, and cracked walls, he imagined in his mind’s eye the enormous object crashing into the hillside to break apart and slide to its present tilted resting place. Yet what of this strange glittering curtain that blocked their view of half the remains? ‘And this barrier?’ he asked Kellanved.

The hunched, falsely old mage was already scrambling up the slope of shattered rock and gravel. He waved his walking stick as he held forth. ‘As we know, Kurald Emurlahn – the Elder Warren of Shadow – was broken apart in great wars. That barrier must be one such border – an edge of this shard of Emurlahn.’

Dancer nodded to himself. ‘So … we could pass through there into another Realm?’

‘Very possibly so, yes.’

As far as Dancer could see they were alone, yet somehow he could not bring himself to sheathe his blades. ‘Well, perhaps we’ve seen enough, then. We know it’s here. We could return another time.’

Kellanved paused – probably to catch his breath. ‘Nonsense!’ he puffed. ‘So close to who knows how many astounding discoveries?’ He eyed Dancer anew, cleared his throat. ‘Ah, you wouldn’t happen to have any water left, would you?’

Sighing, Dancer tucked his blades away and passed over their last waterskin.

*   *   *

They clambered up the shattered lip of a broad room, an enclosed space as large as the great domed audience chamber of Li Heng. Rusted hulking machines covered in dust and broken rock littered the room. Those not fixed to the floor had slid down to rest in a jumbled heap at the lowest point. Dancer had no idea as to what their purpose might have been. In fact, he felt rather like a mouse poking his nose into an abandoned house and staring up at the enormous human-sized furniture. An overly inquisitive mouse at that. The fine hair on his forearms and the back of his neck prickled with a strange dread.

‘Kellanved,’ he began, ‘I don’t like—’

The distant brassy baying of a hound interrupted him.

‘The barrier, I should think,’ Kellanved announced, and took off at a run.

They lowered themselves down open canted floors where a great crack ran through the edifice. It overlooked the silvery grey curtain barrier and they were making their way down to the littered base far below where the gap disappeared into the strange glittering wall, beyond which nothing could be seen.

The baying drew nearer, echoing now from the surrounding walls, ceilings and floors. ‘Shift us now,’ Dancer called.

‘No time,’ Kellanved answered, panting and short of breath. Then he skidded to a halt amid a great collected heap of sand and dust, pointing. ‘That again!’

Dancer reflexively snapped a hand to a blade, but unnecessarily, as far across the great gap a familiar squarish, canted object was rising into the empty air.

Kellanved pointed, ‘Ah, our old friend from before – taking off to leave us to our fate again!’

Dancer urged the mage onward. ‘Never mind that little reptile. We can’t stop.’

The mage awkwardly shuffled and half leapt down a heap of fallen rock. ‘This must be its base,’ he offered.

‘Just keep going. We can’t…’ Dancer trailed off as it became clear there was something wrong with the flying fragment’s trajectory as it skidded low across the ruins, heading directly for the tall soaring main section of the fortress. The smaller piece wobbled, perhaps as the creature within struggled to adjust its course, but to no great effect.

‘It’s going to…’ Kellanved began, only to trail off as well.

The fragment crashed into a wall, shattering into bricks and shards, and Dancer thought he caught a glimpse of the lizard-like beast as it fell. An alien gurgled wail sounded across the great gap.

‘Damn,’ Kellanved said. ‘I’ve wanted to examine that flying thing ever since we first came to Shadow.’

Dancer decided that this was not the time to comment on the man’s lack of sympathy, opting instead to push him onward, down towards the base of the greyish, silvery curtain.

Another ear-punishing howl sounded and Dancer flinched; two of them. He launched himself past Kellanved, rushing pell-mell down the slope of loose broken rock and gravel. ‘I will scout ahead!’

He was almost at the barrier – which remained utterly opaque, even at this close distance – when something hit him in the back. He spun, blades whipping out. Kellanved’s walking stick lay at his feet. The mage himself came puffing and gasping after, waving his arms, his mouth moving soundlessly as he fought to say something.

‘We have no time!’ Dancer snarled, and turned for the barrier.

‘Stop!’ Kellanved exploded, panting, bent over, hands on his knees. ‘Stop!’

‘I’ll just take a look.’

The mage waved his hands in a wild negative. ‘No … mustn’t.’

‘What? What is it?’