He looked at Owen. “Reckon there’s anything left of Plentiful?”
Owen flipped back several pages in his notebook. He’d mapped the village accurately. He looked up at the muddy expanse that marked the lake’s original shore. “Not much of it. Nor of many other places along the Snake. Kingstown might even be in trouble.”
Rathfield came over and glanced at the map. “Spot of bad luck for Shepherd Faith and his flock.”
Owen frowned. “That’s cold blooded.”
“Hardly, Strake.”
“It’s hardly charitable.”
“Neither does it lack charity.” Rathfield pointed off along the unseen river. “Standing here we can do absolutely nothing for them. Whatever fate overtook them did so a week ago. I fervently believe that because of their faith, God will call them to Him. In fact, calling them to Him may have been the reason this all happened.”
Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re ’specting me to believe your God would cause all this destruction for to harvest nine dozen folks what see Him as their salvation?”
“I am not a theologian, Woods, just a man who believes what he is told. I am not wise enough to figure out the mind of God.”
“But you’re willing to suggest He’s sloppy when it comes to doing a job.”
Before Rathfield could respond, Hodge Dunsby came running over from the west. “Captain Strake, you’ll want to see what Count von Metternin has found.”
The rest of the party followed Dunsby around what had once been the shore and off into a small canyon to the west. Water seeped down from the higher walls and drained through the middle. It created a lush grassland with a few wide trails through the shoulder-height growth.
Count von Metternin crouched over the body of a creature roughly the size of a dairy cow. It had a shaggy grey coat, though the coat was thinning in patches as the beast lost its winter fur. Its skull had a high crown and featured a pair of ivory tusks about as long as a man’s forearm. It had a long snakelike nose, and something-a crow most likely-had taken the upward-facing eye.
Nathaniel dropped to a knee. “Looks like one of them mastodons what will be migrating north soon.”
Owen pulled a piece of paper from his notebook and unfolded it. “Pygmy mastodon. It’s on the Prince’s list. He said they might be in an island in the sky.”
Owen and the others fanned out through the grasses to look for more bodies. They took to counting and measuring the carcasses. As they went to work, Nathaniel grabbed Kamiskwa and headed down to the pond to refill canteens and waterskins. The water had cleared and the presence of wading birds hunting on the new shore suggested the water was safe for drinking.
“Did you know these was up here?”
Kamiskwa sank a bubbling canteen into the water. “The Altashee do not hunt in these lands.”
“Doesn’t answer my question.”
“I do not believe every story I hear.”
Nathaniel caught an odd note in his voice. “Are you a-scared?”
Kamiskwa’s hand dropped to the hilt of his obsidian knife. “I am a Prince of the Altashee.”
“Then you’re damned lucky, on account of I am terrified.” Nathaniel sat and sighed. “Ain’t enough we’s out here visiting villages where all these people professing to believe in the same Good Book use it to justify all manner of different things. You’ve been acting queer since we climbed into the mountains, and more so since the ground shook. I ain’t been no great shakes since then, neither. And now you not telling me the truth.”
The Altashee grunted, then sat. “I do not know what the truth is. We have stories, Nathaniel, many old stories. Some told of creatures like Mugwump, and I did not believe them until I saw him. But those were good stories, for the most part. But here, do you know what we call these mountains? Nesgagoquina.”
Nathaniel scratched at the back of his neck. “Wall of the other men?”
“More fortress. They are monsters, Nathaniel, like the wendigo, but many, many times worse. There were once many stories of them, horrible stories. Not even my father knows many of them. He says his grandfather refused to tell him all he knew, because his grandfather had refused to tell all he knew, and so on. They come and kill silently-and an earthquake presages their arrival.”
Nathaniel frowned. Kamiskwa wasn’t given to panic, but something about the mountains was clearly getting under his skin. He figured that these other men could just be a story made up to explain the dark wind, but if that were true, why would there be anything called the dark wind in the first place? Just because he’d never seen one of these other men didn’t mean they didn’t exist. Nathaniel believed in the Queen of Norisle, even though he’d never clapped eyes on her.
“Well now, what has Msitazi told you ’bout them?”
“Nothing good. He says the spirits of the winding path bow before them. It’s why none of the Shedashee hunt in these mountains.”
Nathaniel ran a hand over his jaw. “I reckon I hain’t never been steered wrong listening to Shedashee wisdom. I also reckon that if Prince Vlad knew about these other men, he’d have them on his list. And if they’s as nasty as you’re letting on that they are, we’re going to need to learn a mite more about them. In the stories, can they die?”
Kamiskwa thought for a moment, then nodded. “There are warriors who have slain them. They always pay a terrible price.”
“Shoot ’em or what?”
“It was before we had brimstone.”
Nathaniel forced a smile on his face. “I reckon I like the sound of that.”
The Altashee nodded, then looked over. “Nathaniel, what if my coming into the mountains awakened the other men?”
“Somehow I don’t see that a-happening.” Nathaniel began filling a waterskin. “First, I don’t imagine you is the first Shedashee to set foot in these mountains since your grandfathers stopped telling some stories. Second, I would be thinking that the tramp of some hunter’s boot, or the sound of some preacher hollering the gospel would have gone and did wake anything in these here mountains. Lastly, Colonel Rathfield reckons it was his God what split the earth. It’s His responsibility, then, not yours.”
Kamiskwa gathered the canteens and stood. “And you were not lying about being afraid?”
“Just to make you feel good? Iffen I thought it would make you feel better, I still wouldn’t do it. I ain’t never going to lie to you, Kamiskwa. If a lie would make you feel better, you ain’t worth having as a friend. And if you was dumb enough to believe a lie, ain’t no sense in having you as a friend.”
“Thank you.” The Altashee’s amber eyes tightened. “And it is not just the earth shaking that scares you, is it?”
“Don’t reckon it is.” Nathaniel stood and slung the waterskins over his shoulder. “Even after the shaking, this land is beautiful, but the others, they don’t notice it. I love Owen and Prince Vlad, but all their measuring and taking of samples and all, it just steals the beauty. And once a man puts a number on something, another man equates it to money, then the spoiling really begins.”
He shook his head. “What I’m afraid of, my friend, is that this land is going to be dying, and that there ain’t a damned thing I can do about it.”
Chapter Thirteen
1 May 1767 Westridge Mountains, Mystria
In the highest valley, rising from the sediments of what had been a deep and forbidding lake, lay an unearthly settlement the very sight of which froze Owen’s blood in his veins. The scale of buildings mocked that of even the grandest place in Temperance, and rivaled that of palaces and Parliament back in Norisle. Though the walls surrounding the town had been largely destroyed- melted from the way they sagged between towers which resembled half-burned candles-details remained here and there to hint at great artistry.
The expedition had taken three days at what they called Little Elephant Lake to catalogue specimens and
