Death Weavers (36 page)

“Why?” Harvan asked.

“If more than one person tries to approach her, she will cast you all from the mountain,” Prescia said.

“Can I go after he finishes?” Harvan asked tentatively.

Prescia shrugged. “If you must. But accessing She Who Stands at the Summit is no small task. Few find their way to her mountain. Most fail to reach the top. You must pass whatever test she deems appropriate.”

“Do you think I can do it?” Cole asked.

“I know of no other way you could find Destiny,” Prescia said. “If you are indeed meant to locate my niece, you will find a way to reach the summit.”

“The lady at the top will know?” Cole asked.

“She Who Stands at the Summit is wise and powerful beyond reckoning,” Prescia said. “She will be able to guide you.”

“How do we find the mountain?” Cole asked. “Harvan doesn't know the way.”

Prescia stood up. “Wait here.”

She walked into the bedroom.

Harvan put an arm around Cole and squeezed him. “What did I tell you?” he whispered. “Isn't she great?”

“She's not too happy with you,” Cole replied quietly.

“It'll pass,” Harvan said. “Point is, we have a lead now. Not just a lead—an epic adventure!”

“He gets like this,” Winston said, arms folded.

Prescia returned carrying a shuttered silver lantern. “See this, Cole.”

“Is that . . . ?” Harvan asked.

“The Weaver's Beacon,” Prescia said. “An heirloom passed down from one Grand Shaper to the next. Our guiding light in the echolands.”

Harvan's eyes widened. “Does that mean Cole is the next—”

“Of course not,” Prescia snapped. “I'm loaning it to him.”

“Doesn't the Weaver's Beacon make this oasis possible?” Harvan asked.

“It does,” Prescia said.

“Then how will you preserve your refuge if Cole takes the beacon?” Harvan asked.

“I won't,” Prescia said simply. “I'm returning to Necronum. I mean to go help your other friends rescue Honor. She was always my favorite.”

“What should I do with the Weaver's Beacon?” Cole asked.

“You should not lose it,” Prescia said. “Can you please repeat that back to me?”

“I shouldn't lose it,” Cole said.

“Keep it with you at all times,” Prescia said. “Go on, repeat.”

“I'll keep it with me at all times,” Cole said.

“You don't lend it to these clowns or anyone else,” Prescia said. “Understood?”

“Yes,” Cole said.

“I told the beacon where you mean to go,” Prescia said. “It will not mislead you. Trust it over your senses, or Harvan's. Far out in the fringe, sweet music can be as dangerous as foul.”

“How will I know where it wants me to go?” Cole asked.

“Take it,” Prescia said, holding it out.

Cole grabbed the lantern by the handle on top. It was lighter than he expected. The lantern did not hang straight down. It tilted, gently pulling in a certain direction.

“Feel that?” Prescia asked.

“Yes,” Cole said.

“Let the beacon guide you,” Prescia said. “You won't have to cut back across the central echolands. You're on the proper side to continue out into the fringe. The light of the beacon will drive away dead echoes. And help conceal you from enemies. And it will maintain your energy better than food. Those who rely on tampered shaping or who embrace dark energy and music will find its purity disruptive.”

“Thank you,” Cole said, amazed.

“Don't forget to open the shutter,” Prescia said.

“We can just walk out of the Deadlands?” Winston checked.

“Time is short,” Prescia said. “I suggest you run. But the dead echoes will not harass you.”

“I'm speechless,” Harvan said.

“And yet you're talking,” Prescia replied.

“It's an incredible gift,” Harvan continued.

“It's a loan,” Prescia reminded him.

“We can never repay you,” Harvan said.

“I require no payment,” Prescia said. “My duty is to protect Necronum. I have bided my time long enough. Now is the hour to make my move. We are fellow soldiers in the same campaign.”

“If you're going after Honor, don't you need the beacon?” Harvan asked.

“Not as much as Cole does,” Prescia said, concern entering her gaze. “He will not find She Who Stands at the Summit without it. My instincts tell me it's up to him to find Destiny. The Outskirts have never faced greater peril. Dire forces are in motion. If I can't trust my instincts, I may as well go ride a slipstream.”

“We won't fail you,” Harvan said.

Prescia took a step toward him. “You had better not. You brought this boy here, Harvan. He is your responsibility. He must succeed. You and your sidekick pay whatever price is necessary to protect him.”

Harvan saluted. “It was already my intention.”

“This could be your finest hour,” Prescia said. “Your greatest story. Or it could negate all the others.”

Harvan hesitated, as if trying to resist speaking, then went ahead with it. “People will still tell the stories either way. They're pretty ingrained.”

“Not if there is no Outskirts,” Prescia said. “And now, I must away. I suggest you do the same.”

“Hey, you know?” Harvan said with a chuckle. “If you're abandoning your refuge, I guess it doesn't really matter that I told these two the secret.”

“You still broke your promise,” Prescia said. “Don't forget that I'm abandoning the refuge because you brought them here. But if you succeed in your mission, all will be forgiven.” She winked at Cole and disappeared.

“Is her body nearby?” Cole asked.

“It must be,” Harvan said. “Not sure what the Necronum side looks like right here. Probably not very hospitable.”

“That's all the rest we get?” Winston asked.

“We came here looking for a reason to run,” Harvan said, rubbing his hands together. “Now we have it. Ready, Cole?”

Cole held up the lantern and opened the shutter. A mellow white radiance shone forth. “I think so.”

“Good enough,” Harvan said. “Let's find out if the Farthest Mountain lives up to its name.”

25

T
he Weaver's Beacon kept dead echoes away as promised. Cole saw plenty, but the lifeless echoes acted like Cole and his companions were invisible.

As they ran, Winston kept staring at the lantern. After some time he spoke up. “I'd almost rather have to run from the dead echoes.”

“How come?” Cole asked.

“You're holding the fate of Necronum,” Winston said. “It's the Grand Shaper's most storied talisman. And we have it!”

“Of course we have it,” Harvan said. “Name a hero more worthy.”

“Prescia Demorri,” Winston said.

“She gave it to us,” Harvan said. “So we must be worthy.”

“Or she's horribly desperate,” Winston said. “What if she gave us the keys to the kingdom because it's burning down?”

“Of course the kingdom is in peril,” Harvan said. “It's our job to save it.”

“No pressure,” Winston said.

“I'm glad we're not being chased,” Cole said. “The beacon wasn't doing much good just hiding her. Now she's joining the fight, and we have a better chance of fulfilling our mission.”

“See, Winston?” Harvan said. “What do I keep telling you? Best kid ever!”

Cole smiled, then cringed inside—was it wrong of him to accept all that praise when his actions had endangered his friends, especially when he didn't know whether he could repair the damage? Mira, Jace, and Joe were suffering while he got applause. Harvan had it wrong. Worst kid ever. Most gullible kid ever. As always, Cole did his best to push those thoughts away.

Running with the lantern was a little awkward, but not too bad. Just like his legs and lungs didn't tire from running, his arm didn't tire from holding it, though he switched hands from time to time for variety. The trickiest part was getting used to not swinging his arm as he sprinted.

Without being chased, the Deadlands went by calmly, though the people roaming around still seemed kind of creepy. They all acted so lost. Cole kept reminding himself that they were just shells of people, like imprints.

Beyond the Deadlands, vegetation returned, though not as orderly as the gardens of the central echolands. None of the vegetation was sick or dying. No leaves had fallen; no grass was dry. But the shrubs and trees were more spread out and random, and there were less frequent flowers. Still, Cole was relieved to see plants again and thrilled to escape the depressing playlist of the Deadlands.

“How far will it be to the Farthest Mountain?” Winston asked.

“Better not to wonder,” Harvan said. “I've traveled more than most, and I'm prepping my mind for a long run.”

“I'm starting to question if I'm doing the afterlife all wrong,” Winston grumbled.

“Are you serious?” Harvan asked. “What would you rather be doing? Lounging around the Hall of Glory?
That's
monotony. At least out here the scenery changes! We'll get to see distant reaches of the fringe that few ever lay eyes on. And we're still involved in world events.”

“See how I get suckered into these things?” Winston asked Cole.

“He makes a good argument,” Cole said.

“Right,” Winston replied. “Then before you know it, you're running for your life from countless dead echoes across a nightmare landscape. Next thing you know, the fate of the world is on your shoulders as you're hunted by the forces of evil. Who wants to be that guy?”

“Somebody has to do it,” Cole said.

“Exactly,” Harvan enthused. “So it might as well be somebody competent.”

Winston moaned.

Cole laughed.

They kept running.

Eventually, the music ahead shifted, growing darker and more mysterious. The lantern pulled Cole toward it.

“Have you heard that before?” Cole asked.

“I'm blazing new trails here,” Harvan said. “It's new to me.”

“Me too,” Winston added.

After topping the next rise, a black-sand desert spread out before them, a dark ocean of rolling dunes.

“You sure that beacon isn't broken?” Winston asked.

“It's pulling that way,” Cole apologized.

“It doesn't sound evil,” Harvan said. “Just . . . ancient, and full of secrets.”

The sand turned out to be exceedingly fine. With each step their feet plunged in almost to the ankles. Their running strides kicked up shadowy plumes behind them. Going up the dunes, Cole felt like he lost half a step for each one he took. Running across the sand would have worn him out in minutes in the mortal world, but he still didn't tire. It was just frustrating to have his pace slowed.

The dunes went on and on, rank after rank. They climbed and descended, climbed and descended, climbed and descended. A few times Cole slipped running down the far side of a dune. With each fall he strove to protect the lantern. Though it got jostled, the light continued to glow, and it didn't show any damage.

After a great while, the dunes flattened into a sandy expanse, and then the music began to change as the sand gave way to what looked like gray fragments of pottery. The angular fragments rattled and snapped underfoot but offered a bit more support than the sand, and the music became less ominous.

At one point they spotted a distant tower with hopeful music. Harvan mentioned that it might be worth investigating, but as they moved in that direction, the beacon tugged them away.

The terrain became orange dirt, interrupted by steep ridges and small, sparse trees with golden foliage. The music held an edge of danger but was also fairly majestic.

The dirt gave way to a surface of hard, flat stone, white with gray swirls. It made for easy running, but after some time only white flatness was visible in all directions. With no landmarks, Cole began to lose the sense that they were making any progress. The subtle, soft music was the closest to an absence of sound Cole had experienced in the echolands.