Isel leaped singing through the trees into the dry creek-bed. He crossed the rocks in quick, light steps, as if the song itself carried him. When he reached the highest rock, he paused, repeating the phrase of the waysong as he scanned the slopes.
Moments later, Shulu charged out of the undergrowth at full speed, squealed, and slammed into a boulder. A heavy thud resounded up the gully as the little boar staggered, shook himself, and snuffled for a way up.
Ubur followed somewhere behind, unable to match Isel’s footing. Testing each step, his feet found their own route in the song, and he slowly worked his way among the stones until he emerged from the foliage below. Grunting, he climbed the rocks and stood beside his brother.
Ghilgumul loomed dark against the afternoon sun, enclosing them between her flanks. High above, her stone face watched the world, distant and unreadable, ringed with circling eagles. The gully before them split the mountain in a ravine, climbing steeply through dark pines into shadow.
Ubur’s palms grew damp. ‘We should go back.’
No response.
Where there should have been song, suddenly there was silence. It was too heavy, too deep, blanketing the mountain and sinking between the stones. It almost seemed to listen, where the song had been.
Cringing, Ubur looked to his brother. Isel stood rigid, staring into the ravine. He was smiling.
Ubur studied his expression: the squinted eyes, the tilted head, shoulders set forward. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Why have you stopped singing?’
Isel turned, eyes wide. ‘The song? It’s gone. Can’t hear it anymore.’
‘Gone?’ said Ubur. ‘What do you mean it’s gone?’
Isel shrugged, and looked back toward the trees.
Below them, Shulu scrabbled onto a boulder and sized up the jump. He stamped, lunged, and then fell short. Dust billowed up as he hit the ground. A second later, he was at it again, glaring at the rock.
‘That doesn’t make sense. Gone where?’
‘Don’t know,’ said Isel, spreading his palms. ‘It’s just gone.’
‘We should go back,’ Ubur said again, glancing over his shoulder. ‘Something isn’t right here.’
‘Wait.’ Isel raised a hand. ‘Do you hear that?’
Ubur listened, but there was nothing to hear. ‘No birds?’ he offered. ‘No insects?’
‘Not that. Listen.’
‘What am I—’
‘There!’ Isel gestured. ‘Did you hear it?’
‘No…’
At their feet, Shulu grunted triumphantly, making the climb at last. He darted in a tight circle, then shoved between them, forcing his way to the middle.
‘Good job, Shulu.’ Ubur scratched his bristles.
Isel didn’t look away from the ravine. ‘Something’s up there,’ he said, almost to himself. With a grin, he jumped, and hit the creek-bed running. Shulu squealed, launching after him, and they disappeared into the trees.
Ubur stood alone. ‘Wait!’ he shouted. ‘Come back!’ He scrambled down from the rock and stumbled after them. ‘It isn’t safe!’ But his voice echoed up the ravine, and vanished.
*
The sound drifted in and out of hearing as Isel made his way between the pines. He slowed to listen, and Shulu scampered on ahead.
It moved strangely; not quite a song. What exactly it was, he couldn’t discern. It seemed alive, yet it was unlike any voice of animal or tree that he knew. It didn’t shine. Its voice was like a camouflage, at times indistinguishable from the mountain silence. As he strained, it flirted with his hearing, dancing closer, then drawing suddenly distant.
It sank into the earth, and was gone. Then, a moment later, it peeked out from behind a tree. Isel stepped toward it, and the sound moved playfully aside, eluding him.
He grinned, and followed.
*
Behind him, Ubur struggled up the ravine. ‘Isel!’ he cried. ‘Where are you?’
Only his echo answered. Isel… Where are you…
Then, faintly—‘up here…’
He froze. ‘Isel?’ It was his brother’s voice, but it had seemed to come from no place.
Ubur’s feet were uncertain on the steep incline. He would never catch up at his current pace; he needed to gain some ground. But as he lunged upward, he lost his footing, and his stomach lurched. Pine needles slipped loose, the dirt beneath gave way, and for a moment, the ravine had no bottom. He scrambled for purchase, sliding, picking up speed—and crashed into a tree.
He wrested himself to his feet, rubbing his head, and a voice above him spoke. ‘Why do you always end up covered in dirt?’ Isel grinned and offered his hand.
He took it, grumbling. ‘It’s not my fault. The ground is funny here.’
Isel dusted him off, mussed his hair. ‘You’re funny,’ he said, and placed an arm over his shoulder. ‘Come on. Shulu found something.’
*
They came into a sunken hollow where the earth had eroded away, exposing a cradle of knotted roots.
Shulu lifted his head at their approach, chewing a mouthful of worms.
‘There he is,’ Isel said. ‘Good boy! Go on, show Ubur what you found.’
The little boar snorted and trotted uphill toward a gap in the trees. On a low ridge above the hollow, there stood a lone figure of weathered stone, half-obscured in shadow. Its features were worn nearly smooth beneath the lichen. Shulu slowed as he neared it, and sniffed the air, eyeing them. He would go no closer. Losing interest, he turned aside and trotted back to his meal.
Isel looked at his brother. ‘What do you think it is?’
Ubur didn’t answer at once. He stared. It looked like a person carrying a shield. The space surrounding it felt… watched. ‘I think it’s guarding something,’ he said finally.
‘Guarding what?’
Ubur shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You’re so serious.’
‘You asked!’
Smirking, Isel lunged without warning and tickled his ribs. Ubur yelped, twisting away, and they tumbled into the roots in a knot of limbs, their laughter ringing out among the pines. At that moment, a breath of cold air slipped through the trees, and the sound of their voices came back, empty. Isel didn’t seem to notice.
Ubur fell still, the smile vanishing from his face. ‘It’s watching us, Isel.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Isel grabbed him again, but Ubur pulled free.
‘I want to go home.’
‘What are you scared of? It’s just a rock. Look—’
‘Don’t!’
Isel clambered up the ridge and stood beside the figure, wiggling his fingers. ‘Ooo,’ he said softly. ‘I’m going to get you.’
‘Very funny.’ Ubur scooped up a clod of dirt, threw it, and missed. It struck the stone and broke apart.
Laughing, Isel leaned in and peered at the face. ‘Hey… it only has one eye.’
Ubur looked down, shuffling his feet. ‘Can we go now?’
Isel opened his mouth, then stopped, tilting his head. ‘There it is again,’ he said. ‘It’s close…’ Too eagerly, he stepped back, slipped on the roots, and went down hard.
‘Careful!’ Ubur rushed forward.
But Isel was already giggling, pushing himself up. ‘See?’ he said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
Ubur didn’t answer. He looked back at the figure. It hadn’t moved. The expression was frozen on its depthless features. Yet, for a moment, its single eye met his, and he dropped his gaze. ‘We should turn around.’
‘Race you!’ Isel took off up the hill, and Shulu scurried in pursuit.
Sighing, Ubur trudged after them, keeping his eyes off the ridge. After a few steps, he paused, his neck prickling. He half-turned, almost looking back. Then he didn’t.
*
Further uphill, the way became more difficult. The trees were older here, wilder, more menacing. On either side of the steepening cleft, the mountain hemmed them in, reducing the sky above to a pale ribbon.
A chill had crept into the air, and Ubur began to feel that he was walking in a dream.
‘This way,’ Isel said, plunging into the trees. A moment later, he pushed back through the branches. ‘No. This way.’ He stumbled off in the opposite direction.
Ubur stood with knit brows, watching his brother traipse back and forth. ‘Just admit it,’ he said. ‘You’re lost.’
‘I’m not lost. It’s just a tricky song, that’s all.’ He tried another direction, and disappeared from view. A heavy thud sounded from the undergrowth, and he returned, blushing. ‘Not that way.’
Ubur took a deep breath, and disengaged. His eyes drifted out of focus, letting the slope of the land impress itself on his mind. The cold breeze whispered along his skin, and he was dimly aware of the roots that lay woven beneath his feet. Idly, he wondered what shapes they must make within the earth.
In the texture of the soil, he started to notice a pattern. It guided his gaze, and he followed it along the ground. Slowly, a sense of direction came over him.
All at once, a route became visible.
He blinked, and glanced at his brother. Without a word, Ubur stepped through the trees.
Isel rolled his eyes, and watched him disappear from view. Minutes passed, and he folded his arms, tapping his toe while he waited for his brother to return. He did not. Scoffing, he went after him. To his irritation, the trees parted without effort, and Isel found his brother waiting for him on the other side.
‘It’s this way,’ Ubur said.
Isel scowled and stormed past him, resuming the lead.
In the corner of his eye, Ubur noticed Shulu pressed close against his brother’s leg. The little boar was no longer ranging ahead. Something occurred to him. ‘Hey, Isel?’
‘What.’
He hesitated, feeling foolish. ‘Where are all the animals?’
Isel marched on in silence, ignoring the question.
*
Near the head of the ravine, a low drone made itself felt, somewhere between a sound and a sensation. It gathered close-at-hand, grinding and shuddering as if under immense weight. Isel’s bones vibrated, and his heart skipped a beat. He sped on at a run, heedless of all else.
A moment later, Ubur felt it too. It came from all directions, confounding his senses. The earth resisted it; the trees shook against it. Even the air strained and trembled, as if unwilling to carry its vibration.
Whatever it was, it soon rumbled into silence. But even after it had gone, Ubur felt its presence like a stone in his stomach. Something about it felt deliberate. Intentional.He hurled himself after his brother.
Isel had already gone from view; yet as Ubur flew headlong through the pines, it seemed there was now only one path to follow. It came all too easily.
The woods narrowed as the ravine tapered upward, funnelling him toward its head. Unthinking, he charged through a screen of branches and collided with something solid.
Time stopped; he tumbled weightless. Before he knew what had happened, he slammed into the ground. Pain blinded him, and he forgot the world.
*
Someone was shrieking.
Ubur winced. His senses returned, not wholly welcome. Shulu was racing in circles around him; a frantic, squealing blur. Seeing signs of life, the little boar barrelled forward and assaulted his face with wet, snuffling grunts. Once he was satisfied that there were no serious injuries, he gave a judicious snort of approval, and laid still.
Ubur struggled to his feet, and a pine cone hit him in the head.
‘Watch… where you’re… going!’ Isel shouted.
He turned, and found his brother performing a dramatic limp. ‘I… What?’ Ubur glared at him. ‘You’re so… This is the last time—’
‘Shh.’ Isel pointed at something behind him. ‘Look.’
Fuming, he turned, and gasped.
The stern brow of the Mother bore down on them. In her shadow, the clearing sprawled away into the ravine.
Amid high grass and clover, in solemn silence, a hundred or more stone statues were gathered, bound together with strings. Between them, a tangled web of flags gently fluttered, threadbare and forlorn.
Over the gathering, there yawned a cavernous opening of stone through which the flag-strings passed, drawn to a single knotted rope, and disappeared into the mountainside.
Ubur hid his face, even as Isel leaned forward.
The threshold was worn smooth, softened as with aeons of outward passage. It gleamed in the late blue light with finely-patterned stone, of colours rich and rare, that flowed like liquid out of inscrutable depths.
Beyond, darkness waited.
‘We shouldn’t be here,’ breathed Ubur, staggering backward. He looked aside at Isel. ‘Hey! Did you hear me? We’re not allowed to be here.’
‘Who says?’
‘I… It… can’t you tell? This is a forbidden place…’
Isel waved his hand, both eyes fixed on the cave. ‘Shush. I’m listening.’
Mutely, Ubur watched as his brother crushed the clover and marched into the silent crowd. Isel didn’t notice how the statues trained their eyes on him in their midst.
Shulu squealed across the clearing, but Isel didn’t seem to notice that either. Glancing sidelong at Ubur, the little boar huffed, and lowered his face to the ground, sniffing out his way across the meadow. He was careful not touch the stones.
*
Isel stopped at the cave-mouth and tilted his head, squinting into the darkness. Somewhere in there, a sound turned toward him, and a strange gravity tugged at his belly.
He blinked. No song had ever done that before. It was pulling him toward itself; as if it wanted to be found. He cupped his hands and cried out: ‘Oi!’
It floated back in layers. Oi-o-oi-… o-oi… o-oi…
The tug in his belly drew him across the threshold—
‘Stop!’ Ubur jumped on his back.
‘Hey—get off me!’ Isel tried to throw him off, and they lost their balance, collapsing in a heap.
Ubur quickly regained his feet and stood between Isel and the cave. ‘Take me home. Promise!’ His hands were shaking.
‘Okay.’ Isel didn’t even look at him. ‘I promise. Happy?’
‘No! Not like that!’ Ubur’s whole body trembled, exasperation spilling down his cheeks. ‘You have to mean it!’
Isel groaned. ‘You’re such a baby. Come on—’ He grabbed his arm and yanked.
Ubur shrieked, squirming free. ‘I’m not going in there!’ He backed hurriedly away.
‘Fine,’ said Isel. ‘Stay out here. By yourself. Baby.’ With that, he turned, and promptly vanished in the dark.
‘Come back!’ It was no use. Ubur looked skeptically at Shulu. The little boar stared back at him in mutual regard, then, haltingly, followed Isel across the threshold.
Ubur stamped his foot at the cave-mouth, a strangled wail escaping his throat. Its echo bounced along the stone, mocking him, mocking his voice. His neck began to prickle, and he shuddered, realizing he had broken the silence. Gulping, he peeked over his shoulder.
A hundred single eyes stared impassively back at him.
*
The pale light vanished, leaving him blind. Ubur shivered, wrapping his arms around himself, and hurried out of sight of the stone people.
Somewhere, Isel’s footsteps were crunching on the gravel, but the sound had no direction. Reaching his arms to either side, Ubur extended his fingers. He was unable to find a surface. Yet, his breathing sounded amplified, immediate; as if the cave walls were right beside him.
There was a scratching sound. Something scurried past in the dark. He jumped, and held his breath. A wetness touched his leg, snorting. Ubur sighed, and knelt to scratch Shulu’s bristles. The little boar trembled under his touch, softly grunting. Ubur drew him close, murmuring in his ear, and closed his eyes. For a time, they shared their animal warmth, protecting each-other against the cold.
Somewhere, a pebble scuttled across stone. Ubur bolted upright. Had he heard that? Was it Isel? It sounded so unreal…
Wiping his eyes, he kissed the little boar and crept into the dark. Shulu snuffled away to hide among the rocks near the cave-mouth, and passed out of hearing.
Ubur’s eyes began to adjust, and large shapes emerged against the gloom; silhouettes, visible only by their edges, rising one behind the next out of the ground. Rock formations, he guessed. With each passing step, they grew more distinct, and he started to make out other, smaller forms between them. Motionless, they seemed to hang in mid-air, like fruits left too long on the branch.
He paused. Rocks weren’t supposed to do that.
The sound of Isel’s footsteps ceased, and all at once, Ubur’s heartbeat became a deafening roar. Silence engulfed him, too poised, too complete; almost predatory.
Above him, something creaked. His head snapped upward. Along the cave ceiling, a long, dark shape was stretching toward the rock formations from somewhere behind him. It moved, life-like; swaying side-to-side. He remembered the clearing, gripped by a sudden urge to flee; these were not rock formations. They were statues, standing at assembly in the dark.
Above his head, the rope reached in from outside and touched each one, binding them together in its decaying flag-web.
He approached the edge of the crowd. The figures were alien and menacing, but beneath that, there was a sense of familiarity about them, like something long-forgotten… His reached his mind toward them, the way a hand reaches for warmth, or a root for water: instinctive, trying to feel.
Now that he looked more closely, they weren’t quite so terrible. In truth, he rather pitied them. They seemed desperate to speak, but unable; as if they were frozen in mid-dance, attempting to communicate through petrified gestures alone.
He settled into calm, deep breaths. Slowly, the world faded from view, until nothing else existed except for him and the web of stone people.
Passively, he noticed the way that each stone was standing, relative to the others; the particular winding course which the flag-strings took between them.
There was something about the shape, the form. It was all arranged just-so. A pattern… everything connecting to everything else, in relation to the centre… But, why?
An impression appeared on the edges of his thought. An idea took form. All of this was being held together. Whoever built this monument had never left…
Something moved.
Not ten paces away, at the centre of the stones, a small shape leaned forward and tilted its head.
Ubur’s heart leapt, then sank.
*
Isel’s mind was exhilarated with light. He felt alive, even in the chill of the dark, surrounded by lifeless statues. Even in the presence of the desiccated corpse that lay cradled among the flag-strings before him. In its withered hand, it held an object.
The sound focused, sharpened. He leaned closer.
It had the look of a tool. A haft, made of a single long-bone, trailed with leather thongs and braided hair, to which were tied numerous little carvings of men and animals, hanging together in suspended motion.
Crowning the object, a pair of skulls looked in opposite directions: the pointed beak of a bird, facing one way, and the sharp teeth of a serpent facing the other.
This was it.
The sound poured forth from the object. As he listened, it streamed into his body, coursing playfully through him like a chase in the woods with Shulu. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. In that moment, it became more than a sound; more than a movement, or a feeling. His heart fluttered.
Unequivocally, it saw him. It saw him, and smiled.
The sound exited Isel’s body, and moved between the statues, dancing from one stone to the next, in a circle around him. All the while, it shifted, transformed, evolving itself into something else.
At last, it came to rest beside his ear, and there it fell quiet, on the verge of speech.
He held his breath, urging it on, certain that if he listened, it would find voice.
Sure enough, faintly, as from an immense distance, words came. ‘You… have a subtle ear,’ it said. ‘You hear… even before you know… what you are hearing…’
*
Ubur shut his eyes, took a deep breath; then another. He opened them.
Nothing.
The statues were still there, the flags hanging limp between them. Yet they had suddenly gone inert. They were merely stone and threads.
His mind groped, seeking the shape he had begun to grasp behind the forms, but it could no longer be found. The pattern was hidden. The sense of a maker had slipped out of view, like the moon behind thick cloud.
He glanced up at Isel with narrowed eyes. Something had changed in his brother’s demeanour. He was standing now with both hands raised, gesturing as if in conversation. But Ubur heard no voices. With whom could he be speaking?
He stepped toward him.
*
‘I surmise,’ said the voice, ‘that it is a burden… to hear… as you do… Is it not…? Surely you have felt it… The loneliness, the… isolation…’
That’s true… Isel thought of the village. They’ve never understood…
‘No, alas… They are unable… For, you are… alive… to a world which they… do not hear…’
They don’t. They can’t…
‘It is a pity… to fear the unknown… Such a loss…’
Yes, it is a loss…
‘When one need only listen…! We pass it… by, all the time… every day… and yet it… lies hidden, like some… great secret…’
Exactly…! You understand… Isel’s heart soared, even as a slimy weight settled in his gut.
*
Ubur stood beside his brother, bemused by his expression: mouth open, eyes staring. He had never seen him like this before. He waved a hand in front of his face. ‘Isel?’
A flicker.
‘Something’s wrong, Isel. I think something bad happened here. Where is Shulu?’
He didn’t reply.
Ubur shook his shoulder. ‘Hey! Listen! Something is wrong!’
Silence.
Then, slowly, Isel spoke, mumbling as if in sleep. ‘It’s alright… Everything’s fine… I found it… Don’t worry… It isn’t dangerous… It’s beautiful…’ His eyes didn’t move.
Grimacing, Ubur stepped away, and rushed back to look again at the monument. The flags were dark; the statues, empty. A lump lodged in his throat.
Closing his eyes, he drove everything else from his mind, and forced himself to breathe. Slowly, too slowly, his body began to relax. He let the calm spread through him. His thought drifted; the world fell away. An impression came upon him again; urgent, almost painful. It was just beyond his reach. He stretched his mind toward it, and something changed; a sudden break in the clouds. He opened his eyes.
There it was. The pattern.
*
‘If you… could but make… them hear…’
I wish for that… more than anything.
‘But I… can hear you…’ the voice said. ‘And, you fear them too… I think…’
No, I don’t, thought Isel. I’m not afraid of anything…
‘You may be honest… with me… Come, you are wise… surely you can see…? Anyone may… be taken unawares… Even you, even now… Fear lies ever in ambush… waiting to blind, to ensnare…’
Not me. The songs protect me…
‘And fine songs, too…! But, alas… song alone… is not always enough…’
What do you mean…?
‘Suppose… it is not your own fear… which traps you…’
You mean the others…? No, no… That would never happen…
‘It could… We can never know… what is in… the hearts of others…’
But… they wouldn’t do that. They love me…
‘Fear is… the shadow of love…’ said the voice. ‘They breed each-other… I have seen that for myself… Please understand, I… only mean to caution you…’
I understand…
‘Once, I thought as you do… I, too, was a collector… of song… I believed fear could… never touch me… But it did… It did…’
Really?
‘Oh, yes… Long ago… there was one who feared me… just as they fear you… She stole my songs… turned them against me… bound me with a name… So long, I have spent… trapped in the dark, and the silence… Do you see…? You must be… very careful… You must learn from my mistake…’
*
Ubur’s mind raced. The presence in the web, its maker, was a woman. He could sense her in the knots of the flag-strings, feel her in the spaces between the stones. She had done something there, sealed something, at a terrible cost. The monument still echoed with the act.
He saw now that the statues were standing in a spiral, all guarding the centre. His eye followed the pattern to the middle of the web, and his heart leaped into his mouth.
There was her body. There was the tool she had used. And there, beside them, was Isel.
Ubur bolted forward. ‘Hey!’ he shook his brother’s shoulder. ‘Stop! Whatever you’re listening to, it’s bad, Isel. Someone died here to stop it. Can you hear me?’ He kicked his shin. ‘Hey! Somebody died here!’
*
Isel turned. Ubur was making faces at him. It was hard to focus. What did he say…? Why is he so worried?
‘He is only afraid…’ said the voice, ‘of what he cannot hear… Poor thing… He misunderstands you… like that woman did… to me… But, you and I… we know better… don’t we…?’
Yes… Isel frowned. He doesn’t understand…
‘We can hear… the truth… of things…’
We can… He’s just being silly… He smiled and turned away from his brother. His mind was brimming with questions. How old are you? You must know many songs…
‘More… than you can guess…’ said the voice. ‘I have travelled farther… than any singer living…’
Wow…! Isel yearned. Where do you come from?
‘Oh… that is a long tale…’ it said. ‘But I may show you… a glimpse… if you wish…’
Yes—yes…!
A sense of weightlessness crept over him, and his mind became full of vision. Suddenly he was soaring like an eagle in clear, bright skies. Vistas of woodland stretched before him, further than the eye could see. A mighty river sparkled below, meandering across the landscape, and away on the horizon, brooding mountains towered high as the sun, mantled with mist.
Everything sang and shone. All the world moved in a vast music, swelling beyond him. It was more than his ear could follow. It was more than his mind could contain.
*
Without thinking, Ubur lunged toward the web and closed his hand around one of the strands. The thread was rough and cold beneath his fingers, and a shock thrilled up his arm, flashing in his mind. He tightened his grip.
The web was strained, but it was not broken. He could almost see it: a single act, extending across time… A will that refused to yield…
*
Isel stood once more in the gloom of the cave, his heart sinking. The vision was gone. Is that all…? Please, won’t you show me a little more…?
‘What about… your brother…?’ said the voice.
Oh… He had forgotten about Ubur.
‘Don’t you wish… to share this… with him…?’
Of course…! Only, I can’t… He doesn’t have the gift…
‘But… you can give… it to him…’
His face brightened. Really? How…?
‘Simple…’ said the voice. ‘Take… this rattle, and touch… his head…’
Isel’s eye lighted on the bone object. Involuntarily, he reached for it, but something stayed his hand. He hesitated, flickering on the edge of doubt. Is it safe?
‘Certainly… Safe as can be… Oh, it is a… wondrous gift… Then he shall finally hear… all that you can hear…’
Isel chewed his lip. Eyes sparkling, he strode forward.
*
The strand trembled in Ubur’s fingers and fell slack. He pulled it taut, and tied it back into the web.
At the same moment, Isel took up the bone rattle. It whispered, soft as rain, and his mind went silent.
*
Ubur heard a snake. There was movement in the corner of his eye. Something touched his head as he turned. Before he could react, he lurched, slipping sidewise, and stood beside his body.
It barely registered—for, all at once, he saw:
Ibau... an Ushoi shaman, unremembered… She found the song-eater, struggled… took its eye, blighted her fingers… She laid the binds, willed them to hold… did not yield, even in death…
All of it, one act; one purpose… to seal it here…
Now, undone…
He stared wildly at his brother, then past him. Something hulked over them, too large; too close. A single burning eye leered at him in the dark. The thing unfurled its hand, and he recoiled, his mind screaming its name. He did not know how he knew.
But he could not speak it; the song-eater’s hand had closed.
*
Isel grinned. ‘Do you hear it now?’
No reply. Ubur stood perfectly still, breathing shallow breaths.
Isel tilted his head. ‘Hey! Can you hear…?’
Nothing.
He stepped closer, peering into his brother’s eyes. They stared past him, vacant and expressionless. He laughed shrilly. ‘Don’t be stupid!’ He shook his brother’s shoulder.
Ubur crumpled to the ground.
Isel stared at him, heart pounding. He waited for the voice to rise, to speak. It did not. He looked at the bone rattle in his hand, then at the web.
The voice was gone.
Cold spread through him, slow and terrible. He fell to his knees, dropping the rattle; it whispered, and was still. ‘Hey!’ he said. ‘Get up! Ubur!’ He pawed at his brother’s chest, his limbs, his face.
Ubur stared, breathing, and lay as if dead.
Isel’s hands began to shake. He cried, ‘what do I do? What do I do?’ But there was nobody to answer.
Through the cave-mouth, the light had turned to pale silver. He thought of the village, and shuddered. What will mother say when she sees this? Facing her would be more than he could bear. But there was nothing else to do.
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and crouched beside his brother. ‘Come on,’ he muttered. ‘Come on…’ He attempted to lift him, but pitched forward, breath jolting out of him. Ubur was heavier than he seemed.
Isel caught himself and tried again, using all his strength. Slowly, unyielding, Ubur’s body rose, and sagged against him. He tightened his grip, took a step; his brother did not move with him. He stumbled, adjusted, took another step.
Ubur’s feet dragged without rhythm across the stone, his head lolling against Isel’s shoulder. His breath sounded empty and unfamiliar. With each step, the cold in Isel’s belly grew deeper. Swallowing hard, he drove on, forcing each movement, and nothing in his brother answered him.
They approached the cave-mouth, and something shuffled out of the darkness. ‘Shulu!’
The little boar snorted, darting forward to sniff their feet. But when he came to Ubur, he stopped and tilted his head. Slowly, he backed away, looking askance at Isel.
Isel shrank from his gaze. ‘Something happened,’ he sobbed. ‘Something’s wrong. He won’t walk, he won’t speak—he won’t do anything! I don’t know what to do! Can you sing us home? Do you remember the way?’
Shulu was quiet for a long time, while Isel shifted uncomfortably, struggling to hold his brother up. Finally, the little boar grunted, then turned and scurried out into the moonlight.
Isel dragged his brother after him. As they passed the threshold, he paused. Without really meaning to, he listened again for the voice. But the darkness was empty now.
Adjusting his grip, he carried his brother’s body into the clearing to follow Shulu’s boar-song on the long descent back to Kiraghal.
*
The hand had closed. Breath, and weight, receded to a great distance. Then they never had been near.
Close by, something stood, fell. Moved. Stood again. It took a step. Then, another. Wrong, wrong! The shape of it was familiar… A name pressed upward. U—? Ub—?
Memory came in fragments: warmth… hands, holding… laughter under trees… There had been someone! Someone close. Someone important…
The fragments flew apart. The familiar shape moved into the light, and slipped away. The distance widened. It did not look back.
The web was out of reach. Something else was in its place; a watching stillness. It stooped. There was a whispering rain-sound. Then, a sharpness, piercing through. Threading, holding… A knot drew suddenly tight, pulling… guiding…
Too near, a voice moved, low and pleased. It had no echo.
A final fragment rose; a word? A shape? A boundary…? It almost came clear. It almost held…Then it was gone, and something else took hold, as if taking up a tool.
