Sev had said the veins of silicon were hard to spot at first. It was a reflective metalloid, with nothing to reflect but the dark of the Chasm. The danglers would have to shine their lamps on the face of the cliff, searching for anomalies foot by foot. Thankfully, the veins were plentiful, and Pierce found his first one within a few minutes of descent.
He tugged on the rope once to signal he'd found a deposit, and his hornblower tugged back in response. Pierce took out a hammer and chisel, searching for the boundary between metalloid and the dark stone around it.
The stone of the cliff face was cleaner than Pierce had imagined. Perhaps the banshees neglected to defecate on these walls because they were close to the old wizard's home. There was still indication of the banshees' nasty habits, though. Streaks of dried-up guano left crusty vertical tracks on portions of the stone. At least most of it was dry. Pierce could already imagine the smell in an area the banshees had taken a shine to.
Pierce began to chip away the stone of the cliff-face. He was supposed to excavate to a certain depth, all the way around, and dislodge the biggest chunk of silicon he could. There was a rope dangling above his head, with a bag tied to it, that would be hauled up once he'd put some of the metalloid in it.
He liked this kind of work. Repetitive actions with a clear goal always helped him to maintain focus. It wasn't tiring, either. Most cliff-danglers were people who couldn't find a better job, even though it paid well. Typically the job was considered distasteful due to the high risk of death by banshee. Pierce couldn't speak to that yet, but so far he was thinking that if he couldn't be a professional warrior, this might be something he could stick with.
Pierce's strength helped him to work faster than the other soldiers that had been sent over the side of the cliff. Within half an hour, he'd secured a good-sized chunk of silicon, like a slice of pie, and sent it up above.
Not long after that, the horn sounded. It wasn't a typical horn signal, but a bright, rising melody. The soldier trumpeting actually wasn't too bad, which was good for Pierce. He turned his head out to the Chasm and saw the banshees coming. They flew in looping, erratic patterns, and there was anger in their movements.
Pierce knew that the banshees never failed to appear. Humans weren't supposed to be in the Chasm, apparently. So the banshees asserted whenever someone dangled, or otherwise invaded the space above the Chasm. Ess had said they would even come after someone trying to fold across the gap in the earth. But why? No one had ever been able to ask, for the banshees were wild things, with bodies of both air and flesh, and they were not interested in conversation.
The horrid things came nearer, and Pierce remembered to keep singing. He'd forgotten at some point during his work.
"Keep mining!" came a distant voice from above.
Right, he had to keep going. No distractions. Trust the music.
He turned back to the silicon, fighting the urge to look back at the banshees. He wasn't so much afraid of them, it was more that his instincts were screaming for him to defend himself. Yet even if his sword were able to cleave the flesh of the ghoulish beasts, there was nothing he could do to harm their evil spirits.
So he mined, and sang, and up above, the horn player serenaded.
After several minutes, his curiosity got the best of him, and he checked on the status of the banshees. They had entered a holding pattern, flying in anxious loops just a hundred yards away, faces locked in perpetual expressions of confused anger. They wanted to come and rip the cliff-danglers to shreds, but the music held them at bay.
After an hour or so of working and sweating at the end of the rope, with the cacophonous song of the banshees stabbing his mind, Pierce finally began to feel the sickness and fatigue he'd always heard about. Toxic banshee song. He needed to end the shift before he made a stupid mistake.
Reluctantly he tugged out the signal on his rope, and shortly the men above began hoisting him up. The shrieks of the banshees grew frenzied, sticking needles of vertigo into his brain. He glanced backward again. They had pressed closer, despite the pain or discomfort the music caused them. They didn't want this prey to get away.
Pierce got his arms over the top of the cliff, and the men up there helped him mount it. They gave him hearty pats on the back and congratulated him on a good take.
It didn't seem like much to Pierce, compared to what he imagined Sev needed for the enchantment. Just three chunks the size of a man's chest, and a handful of other small pieces and scraps.
Pierce looked out over the Chasm. The banshees were already gone. No meal for them this day.
He looked down the line of the cliff's edge. Everyone else had already come up. How many times would they have to do this? When would somebody's luck run out? He didn't fancy finding out first-hand what the banshees could do to a man if they caught him.
Sev was duly impressed by the day's take, and that did Pierce's heart good. He may not have trusted his own sense of what constituted a victory when mining the Chasm wall, but he trusted the forgemaster's.
Everyone who'd worked this shift was treated to a sumptuous meal back at Chasmverge. It had only been a few hour's work, but Pierce felt like he'd tried to fight a duel after drinking too much the previous night. Knowing his own impressive endurance, he felt sorry for
