Daniel hurried on northward, to the cairn he had assembled in years gone by. The sky was definitely darkening at this point. He worried that he would miss Robby and Gwyn, and though he still possessed the faculties needed for tracking them if they left, he was more worried for their sakes.
The snow had lightened some, but it continued to pile thick on the ground. A kisscurse, he mused: it would make it harder in case Roedrick’s harriers tried to follow them for whatever reason, but all the worse for him if Robby and Gwyn left early.
The crests and valleys disappeared into each other as the light faded, until all seemed endless waves of white. He felt possessed by the sense that time was elongating; it was not that far to the stones, in truth, but the wheels seemed to stretch before him torturously.
In his agitation, at first the cold bothered him, but before long he remembered his training in the Baby Forest from when he was still a teenager. His emotions gradually left him, and before long he was firmly in the depths of the chill-warmth: his limbs and the skin of his chest and face touched by the cold, but the pounding of his feet coursing the blood through his veins kept it from penetrating deeper, from becoming dangerous.
As it became was finally becoming too hard to see in front of him, he crested the hill in question… and found no one by the sheep’s gravestones. His heart fell into his stomach and he rubbed at his face, forcing steaming breath through his teeth in frustration.
He hadn’t been that late. Perhaps they were still close by. Willing his pulse to settle down, he cast his mind out all around him, delving through the wild grasses and shrubs. His headache returned with a vengeance as he forced himself to reach out farther than he should… though his efforts were rewarded. He thought he felt them, perhaps, in a glen to the east, obscured by a copse of trees.
But he felt another presence to the south, where he had just come from.
Adrenaline flooded him instantly, and with his cloak fluttering he took cover behind the very stones he had built up. There was thunder raging in his temples, and he dared not use his ability again lest he hurt himself further, or worse. He rummaged through his leather bag, grunting as he pricked his left palm on the tip of one of his knives. Grasping at the hilt, he pulled out the short, ugly dagger.
You have a gun, he reminded himself. Yet even as he thought the words, he knew he would not deign to use it. Some feelings ran deeper than the urge for survival could reach; he would sooner die than break with this penance.
Grimly, he waited to confront his aggressor, straining his ears for the crunch of snow underfoot.
And he continued to wait. And wait…
The quickness in his blood faded, and a series of emotions flashed through him. Anger, for this confrontation, giving way to gritty irritation. He was tired, positively exhausted from all that had happened this day. Then, eventually he simply felt bored. How many minutes had he been sitting here, exactly?
Then he nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a sharp baa! right behind him.
He turned to see a gray muzzle and wide, amber eyes staring at him. Baa, the animal repeated at him.
Pursing his lips, he tucked the knife back into his bag. Should have figured that least one of these beasts would follow him.
Still, he smiled softly as he patted at her head, ruffling the dirty, off-white wool. She only blinked in response. This one seemed a better head of the flock, no extra limbs or horns anywhere he could see.
From the east then he heard a low, hushed shout: “Danny! Danny, is that you?” Robby and Gwyn trotted up the hill towards him, slipping here or there on their way up. “Gwyn saw you—“ a quick breath in, “—I know ye said we should leave,” Robby panted slightly, “but we knew ye’d be comin’ this way. We couldn’t just leave without ye.”
“It’s not that late Robby, you’re fine.”
“No,” Robby said. “It’s not that.” He got his breath back, standing straight. “A man with a long gun came ‘round here, ‘bout an hour ago.”
“We hid down in the trees over there!” Gwyn said, strangely cheerful as her hair played in the wind. “It was too thick, he didn’t see us.”
Daniel cast a glance eastward. Night was growing too strong for him to make them out clearly, but he didn’t think they looked too dense. He uttered a quick thanks for the snow; it looked as if it would make the difference after all.
He closed his eye, thinking through the pounding in his head that had returned. “They must have scouts out this way. Cursed if I understand why, but…” he looked at father and daughter, their bundled hands collecting ice flakes. “I hope you’re both up for more walking. It’s not safe here anymore.”
Gwyn nodded fiercely. “We’re ready, Uncle Danny!”
Robby nodded too, more grimly. “We’ve got food fer some time at least,” he shuffled a bulging pack strapped to his back. Hopefully we’ll be back ‘fore it’s an issue.”
Daniel sighed. “I don’t know about that. Come on,” he kicked off, continuing northward. “Let’s get going.”
Along the way, he told them the more immediate facts he was aware of. Gwyn audibly gasped when he said the word “bomb,” and when he snuck a glance he could see the line of Robby’s jaw tightening. Otherwise, they gave no reaction to his tidings. Truthfully they gave no remark at all about being told to leave. Daniel gave thanks again that they trusted him this far. It was not an easy thing to forsake your own home; he just hoped their trust would extend far enough to keep them all safe.
He looked back and saw the sheep following them still. Stubborn, was all he thought, but he smiled even as he did.
After another hour and a half plodding through snow that stacked higher around them, it was officially too dark to continue. Daniel had taken his flock out here on an irregular basis only, and his memory of the terrain was spotty. He would not have them flailing around in the darkness only to trip in a gopher hole and break their ankles.
The problem was, there was nothing to cover them. This field was wide and open, with naught but scrub brush and grass to speak of for wheels around. He glowered: they could pack the snow for basic shelters, but it would take time and they were already well worn out coming this far. If they wrapped themselves in as many layers as they had they could risk sleeping in the open, but the possibility of freezing to death was still too high, especially if the wind picked up.
As he considered their options, he heard the sheep’s baa again. It was faint… he heard it again, and to him it sounded as if she had been buried in something.
Puzzled, he tenderly cast his mind to look for her (the pain pulsed briefly, but otherwise it seemed to be gone). The ewe was about 30 or 40 feet away on his left, but when he looked in her direction he saw nothing.
“Wait here,” he told Robby and Gwyn, and waded through the snow drifts to check.
As he neared, he stumbled a bit over some thick brush underfoot. Cursing, he went to overstep it, and found his leg crushing and twisting into more.
Baa, baa the sheep mocked him. Scowling, he made to walk around it… and nearly missed a hole in the tangled brush. He looked down into it, seeing nothing in the dark, but he could smell the distinctive aroma of woolstink. Curious, he knelt down and crawled into it.
The entrance was small and his cloak caught on a couple branches, but quickly the shrub seemed to open away into a tiny natural dome where the snow had caught and packed on top of the woody plants; there was still grass and dirt underfoot here. He felt around to get an idea of how big the space was, and accidentally patted the sheep in the face.
She nibbled his fingers through his glove for the insult. Don’t do that again.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. Still, he was pleased as he crawled back out into the wind: this would keep them insulated for the night, and away from any prying eyes.
Standing again, he called out an “Oy!” and waved his friends over. Robby tried to crawl in first, but his bulk caused him to get caught, so Daniel and Gwyn lifted the branches at the entrance to get him through. He prayed this would not dislodge the snow, but shortly all three of them were packed in with the sheep. It was a little tight, but the space quickly warmed up.
A mercy it was, too: the wind was picking up outside, with an eerie whooping sound as it raced across the empty plains.
“We’ll rest here for the night and take off at first light,” was all he said into the pitch blackness.
Gwyn laughed, a tinkling sound in the dark. “This is weird, Uncle Danny. You ever camp in the bushes like this before?”
“No,” he admitted, “this is a first. I usually made a lean-to, or in nicer weather I just slept on my cloak. You can thank the sheep for these accommodations,” and as if to say you’re welcome she bleated gently at them.
“Ya let yer stock out then?” Robby asked. “Gonna have a hell of a time getting ‘em back later.”
Daniel shifted uncomfortably. “Aye,” he said, but left the rest unspoken. I’m not sure yet if there’ll be anything to go back to.
“Ya promised to tell me more when ya had a chance,” Robby continued. “Now seem’s as good a time as any.”
He thought on that for a moment, but it didn’t feel right. Not yet. “In the morning,” he dodged, then gave a real yawn. “Too tired for it tonight Robby, say sorry.”
He was not pleased by this, but thankfully didn’t put voice to it. They turned over, trying to get comfortable in the underbrush. It was tough going at first, with the holler of the wind outside and stalks of grass tickling them in the face every so often. Eventually, sleep graced them with some uninterrupted hours… though they were not very restful for Daniel.
In dreams interspersed with fits and starts, he felt himself being pulled by something. It gripped gently at his clothes and his limbs and cordoned him at his head by the empty socket of his right eye. He thought it was his ka calling him—after all, no one can resist the pull of their ka. Though as it continued, this felt less to him like the inexorable flow of fate and more like a tugging. Furtive, urgent.
Help, it said to him. Please.
Then he was awake, the soft light of another cloud strewn morning reflecting off the snow outside the den they had all crawled into.
He tensed his sore muscles, stretching in place. Quietly and gracefully as he could manage, he wormed his way outside into the open, rubbing at his bleary eye.
All around him was an alabaster quilt, as far as he could see. The world appeared as if cut in twain, white underneath and a blank, dark gray above. He shivered and patted at his sides, trying to summon that clarity of thought which kept him from feeling the cold.
He felt the prismatic lump of that strange box that Dodonpa had carried with him, and he pulled it out for a second look. He assumed there would be time for a more thorough analysis now.
Turning it over in his hands, he saw tiny holes embedded on the top side. Much too small to see anything through. On the right was a little dial embedded in the side with the letters “VOL” printed above it, and arrows pointing opposite on either side of the dial. Underneath that was a green button that said “DISCONNECT” and another, tinier button that said “HELP.”
He squinted at this. The meaning was ambiguous: perhaps this device could act as some kind of beacon. Turning it over again, on the left side he saw a tiny red switch with the word “EMERGENCY” printed above it. He made a face at that: why would this little box have two such controls?
Looking again at the HELP button, he considered it for a moment, and then gingerly touched at it. It depressed far more easily under the pressure of his thumb than he expected, and he was startled by a high-pitched beep. A few seconds passed where he realized it had come from the box, then that flat, expressionless female voice from yesterday issued forth.
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“This is the automated voice assistant for the North Central Positronic Economy Model Handheld Transceiver. Please state loudly and clearly what you require assistance with. Alternatively, press one for a description of this device and its functions. Press two for a list of active channels within transceiver range. For remaining power and assessment of this receiver’s condition, press three. If you are in an emergency, please turn the red emergency switch to the on position, press eight, or say ‘emergency.’ To repeat this list, press nine.” Then the woman spoke briefly in a language that Daniel could not recognize.
“What are you…?” he whispered.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Please repeat what you would like assistance with.”
Blinking a couple times, Daniel pressed the button labeled with a 9, then as soon as the assistant said “description” he pressed 1.
“This Handheld Transceiver is a multi-way communication device with an operational range of 1,000 miles, or 1,100 point one one wheels. The Handheld Transceiver is rated for use in all weather conditions, normal or abnormal, as well as for use in limited anomalistic circumstances. Disclaimer: this device will not function at pressures above 300 gigapascals, at temperatures over 3,000 Kelvin, or if offset in time from other transceivers by more than 1,024 years.”
Daniel faintly registered that Robby and Gwyn had crawled out of the den. They came to stand around the device with him, Gwyn gaping openly at the voice they were hearing.
“This device may create independent channels for discrete communication, up to a limit of 32,786 unique channels. A passcode may be designated upon channel creation: to join or create a channel, press the SCAN key, enter the desired channel number, and press the ENTER key. Press the TALK button and speak loudly into the device. For a more detailed list of operations and suggested protocols, please consult the operator manual or contact your local North Central Positronics communications associate. This description will repeat; to return to the main menu, press five.”
The voice fell away for a few seconds, leaving a strange emptiness in their ears. As soon as she started up again, Daniel pressed at the button which said HELP again, turning it off.
“Danny,” Robby uttered, “what in the name of Gan is that?”
“This…” he swallowed, “this is a machine of the Great Old Ones.”
Gwyn’s eyes were wide like dinner plates, and she ripped them away from the box—the transceiver—to look at him instead. “Where did you find that?” she demanded, voice full of awe.
“I took it from a dead man,” he sighed. “Along with this.” He dug in his bag and pulled out the golden pistol, cold in its holster.”
Robby hissed through his lips and signed away the devil, but Gwyn only blinked in confusion.
“This is a gun. A pistol,” he told her.
She frowned. “It looks different than I thought it would.”
“It would have been better for you never to see one. Say sorry,” he said with a hollow sadness in him.
“Danny,” Robby said with some heat, “We’re gonna sit down and have breakfast. Ye need to tell us what’s happenin’. It’s time.”
He scratched at the top of his head, mussing the wenberry locks. “Aye,” he allowed. “What have you got with you? This is going to be a long story.”
They sat down next to the hole in the brush, clearing the snow away to protect their bottoms from the chill. They gnawed away at some cold biscuits and roasted beets that Robby had stored away in his pack. There was no sun to tell them the time, but the ambient light of the day steadily grew as he told them of his time in Barstow.
He did not tell them everything. His affairs with Trish were his own, and he kept them tucked away in his heart. He told them near everything, though: the grittiness of the rotting houses, and the vomit-ale smell of Jackson and Sons. The Touch, and the creatures that looked like men but were not.
When he was done, they sat in silence for a while. Their meal had gone down poorly, but it was digesting, and he guessed that was all that mattered.
“Why didn’t ye tell us before?” Robby asked finally. “Ye told us about Gilead, yer teachers.”
“I was hoping none of it would matter. Thought it was over and done with,” Daniel said, feeling shame on his shoulders and in his chest. “I cry your pardon, Robby. It was wrong of me to keep it from you both.”
Gwyn was staring at the ground, deep in thought with her head askance.
Robby shook his head, though he didn’t seem quite angry. “And ye say ye kilt this man, the barman?”
“Aye,” Daniel replied, looking him dead on in his brown eyes. “I’ll not apologize for killing him, either.”
“Nar, I wouldn’t think it. My reckoning is he’d have done worse if you let him.”
Gwyn spoke up then. “May I see the gun again?”
Both of the men turned to look at her. They shared a glance, and when Robby said nothing Daniel retrieved the pistol from its holster, checking to make sure the safety was on.
“You didn’t kill him with this?”
“No,” he said. “I’ll never wield one of these again.”
“But you can teach us to?”
Robby’s mouth dropped open for a second, and then it snapped shut again. Now there was anger in him: “Gwyn, by the grace of God I forbid you to touch that thing!” he practically shouted. “Yer just a girl. Man Jesus, handling a gun, especially at yer age!”
“Not you, Gwyn,” Daniel said more lightly. “But your father… if he would.”
“Ye ask too much of me, Danny! I’m a simple man, I know nothin’ of these things. I’ve never wanted to know of ‘em.”
Daniel tilted his head. A strange feeling flitted through him, but before he could identify it, it was gone. The likelihood they would need to use this awful thing was precipitously high, but by the cursed face of his father he could not do it himself. He also agreed Gwyn was too young… though perhaps soon, if they were out here for too long.
Instead, he pulled out the transceiver again. Scan, number, and enter, the voice had told him. Roedrick had been on channel fourteen, so what were on the others?
He pressed the HELP button again, and preempted the woman by pressing two, but her voice came out anyway.
“There are nineteen channels within range.” The voice felt oddly strained when it said the number, but was otherwise as flat as usual. “Channels one, two, six, seven, and eight are unencrypted. Channels nine through twenty-two are encrypted. Channel three is off-set in the space-time continuum by two hundred and eighty-five years.”
Lots of options, but most of them seemed they would require a passcode. He might know one, but there was always a chance they could have reset it by now. Shrugging, he started tapping the keys to enter channel one. Might as well start from the beginning.
The instant the number appeared in the little view box (using a strange, disconnected font he had never seen before), a deafening, screeching crackle blared out from the box. All three of them bared their teeth, Robby and Gwyn clapping their hands over their ears. Desperately he fiddled with the keys, and the awful noise seemed to get quieter as he rolled the dial on the side down, until it disappeared entirely.
The sheep bleated out from the den, woken by the awful sound. Daniel looked guiltily at all of them as they hesitantly uncovered their ears. “Maybe it’s broken,” he said lamely.
“Try the next one,” Gwyn said, excited despite the wretched din.
Dutifully he punched in for channel two, but nothing came out but a brief hiss as the number changed again. He frowned for a second, but then remembered the dial. As he turned it up, a voice spilled out… but it was not the woman, or even a man. The voice sounded blank, clear like glass, and it tumbled out in a frenzied rush.
“—FOR THE BEAMS WILL BREAK THE TOWER WILL FALL THE PRIM WILL SURGE AND THOSE THAT STILL DWELL WITHIN IT WILL FEAST ON YOUR BONES AND CLEAN THEIR TEETH WITH YOUR TENDONS DANIEL BRYNE OF NO HOUSE YOUR FAILURES STAIN YOUR SOUL YOUR KA IS UNCLEAN YOU WILL NEVER BE CLEAN RELEASE YOURSELF END YOUR SUFFERING KILL THE GIRL AND HER FATHER THERE ARE EIGHT BULLETS IN THE GUN USE IT USE IT USE IT USE IT USE IT USE IT USE IT—“
Gwyn turned the dial down until the voice disappeared again, taking the transceiver from him. Defying the frigid air, sweat rolled down his face. He felt the hair standing up on end across the whole of his body, his arms and the back of his neck erupting into gooseflesh. Noiselessly, the sheep came over and nuzzled at his hands, though he gave no response.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be using that thing,” Robby said calmly, though rolling his eye to look over at him, Daniel could tell he was spooked too.
Before they could put it away, Gwyn changed it to the next channel. There was another crackle, and mercifully nothing foul came out this time. After a few seconds, there was a man’s voice, a trembling tenor. “H-hello? Did someone just join this frequency?”
Shaking himself, Daniel took the transceiver back, thumbing the TALK button uncertainly. “Aye, to whom are we speaking?”
“Oh, goodness gracious,” the man said, a strange accent tinging his words. “I was afraid no one would come back. Listen, please don’t switch off again. It’s so dark here, I haven’t spoken to anyone in days. I can’t handle this anymore.”
Daniel blinked, a frown stealing on his face again. “Who and where are you? Speak straight, man.”
“My name’s Robert Farnham. I don’t know where I am, I’m lost inside some kind of building with no electricity,” the man answered. “I can’t tell what anything says, the letters are all wrong. It feels like it’s been donkey’s years since I left the—” Farnham said police station but Daniel’s mind heard gaol. “I can’t even remember how long I’ve been here anymore.”
Robby stepped closer, an eyebrow raised. “What manner o’ station do ye mean, Robert Farnham?”
“Oh, my God,” Farnham said, the relief in his voice palpable. “You sound like my cousin from Antrim. Never thought I’d be so pleased to hear from a Northerner.”
Robby was puzzled by this. “I’ve never heard of Antrim, hardly left Deepwood all my life. Ye from Laria or somethin’?”
“Laria’s no place I ever heard of, I’m from Haringey,” the fellow laughed. “Oh, this is wonderful. Are you stuck in here too, mate?”
“No,” Daniel stepped in. “I believe you’re confused. This device says we’re in a different time from you altogether.”
A loud groan issued from the transceiver. “Not you too! I don’t understand all this about time offsets or whatever malarkey, I just need some help getting out of here.”
Daniel pursed his lips; this man was not going to be of any help. He thumbed the DISCONNECT button, cutting Farnham off just as he started to ask if they were still there.
Gwyn rounded on him, clearly upset. “Danny, he needs help! What’d you do that for?”
“I very much doubt that we could do anything for him, as is. We have our own problems to worry about for now as well,” he reminded her. Angry tears welled in her eyes, but before she could interject he keyed in channel six.
“—like they had warning,” a man was saying, clearly vexed. “No one was here, except for some old piece of shit at the bar.”
“Did you get any information from him?” a woman responded coolly.
“No, the guy was retarded or something. Wouldn’t say anything other than ‘get the hell out,’ so we shot him.”
Robby gasped. “Those fuckers! They’ve killed Hob!”
“Sh,” Daniel hushed him, prompting an ugly glare.
The voices continued. “Any sign of Jackson?” the woman asked.
“No ma’am. He doesn’t appear to be anywhere in town, and he didn’t connect at the arranged place this morning either.”
“I never trusted him,” the woman said instantly, venom laced in her words. “It’s a good thing we didn’t wait to prime the machine.”
“Uh,” a third voice cut in, a younger sounding male. “Pardon the interruption ma’am, but the men actually had some concerns about that. The can-toi are saying we should be keeping more of a distance between camp and the bomb—the guards we stationed with it last night say they’ve been dizzy and throwing up for the last few hours.”
“The can-toi say many things, Sergeant Eiry, and I find little of it very useful. When your opinion is wanted, it will be asked for. Is that understood?”
“Y-yes ma’am,” the harried sergeant stammered, “but—”
“No more Sergeant,” the other man cut across him. “Your job is to get that thing to the portal. Leave the thinking to the senior staff.”
“Yes, sir,” the man named Eiry responded, though his tone was clearly unhappy. There was a brief pause and then a crackle.
The woman came on again, sounding tired now. “Is there anything else to report?”
“Nothing important. The captain and some of his boys got a bit… er, rowdy, after searching the bar. They set a fire, earlier than we intended, and it’s spread to the nearby houses. We weren’t able to get any food from them, but they looked abandoned anyway.”
Well, that’s something, Daniel thought. With luck, they’ll think Dodonpa’s body was a local, or won’t find it to begin with.
“Well, not as if we can do anything about that,” the woman replied, not particularly bothered. “Just grab what you can and give the orders to move out. We’re behind schedule.”
“Will do. Telwin out,” they finished, and the transceiver fell quiet.
Gwyn mused on all this. “It sounds like most everyone got out safely,” she said softly.
“’cept for Hob,” Robby spat. “Man didn’t deserve this. Bunch of animals,” he muttered. He turned to Daniel. “We need to find the Mother,” he started, but then fell quiet as he studied his friend.
Daniel’s face was blanched. His eye was wide, staring into the distance, and he was sweating again. “That’s what they plan to do,” he whispered, almost to himself.
“What now?” Robby asked, “Ye actually got something out of all that faff?”
“Aye,” Daniel said, coming back to himself. “They mentioned a portal. I think this bomb they have is intended to destroy it.”
“So? What does that have to do with the price of silk?”
Gwyn stepped in to fill in the blanks. “Dad,” she said somberly, “he’s talking about the Beams. These people are trying to break the Beams.”