Horralain gripping the haft of Shatter was one of those moments. I could see it going either way. The outcome all came down to Aerolis. I could not say why the Djinn was so scared of the hammer, I had yet to figure out the truth of that, but there was something primal in that fear. Something that went beyond reasoning. I felt it through Ssserakis, and the horror knew it well. It was a master of fear, a creature born of it, and to it. The horror's very existence was to draw out the fear of others and feed upon it. There was no fear it did not understand intimately. Well, perhaps no fear except its own. It wasn't until possessing me that the horror came to understand that it too could feel fear.
The moment passed. Horralain survived.
"Will it work?" I asked.
For a moment the wind grew suddenly hot, like a warm breeze on a cool day, there and gone, leaving nothing but pimpled flesh in its wake. "The weapon can break anything, but Iron has absorbed much of the enchantment we worked on this mountain. His body resists magic."
"So, you don't know?" The mighty Djinn, a creature that called itself a god, and it didn't fucking know.
No answer but the whistling of the wind.
There is but one way to find out. Living metal, a monster at the heart of the city. Make it fear, Eskara. Make it fear us!
There was no easy way to go about the task. We could not kill Iron at his heart, buried deep within the mountain, instead we trekked east, towards the first of the great chains. There were four of them, giant things, each link twice as big as a house. They dwarfed the size of Ro'shan's great chain and anchor, and I suppose that was the point. The chains on Do'shan were never meant to be removed, they were to keep the flying city in place for eternity
Feral pahht watched us from windows and shadows both, so many eyes tracking me. I knew they were there even when I couldn't see them, by the fear they gave off. It was fear of me. In my rush to save Silva and the others, I committed slaughter. I saw many of those I killed as ghosts, and I was becoming quite adept at picking out the living from the dead. Ssserakis revelled in the fear, a joy the horror hadn't felt since being ripped away from its kingdom in Sevoari. The ferals didn't attack, I think they were too frightened to consider it, but their presence was unnerving. I swallowed down Sources as we walked and felt the rush of power in my stomach once more. The Arcstorm inside of me recharged itself from the power of the Arcmancy Source, and lightning crackled around me, intensifying the fear from the ferals.
Aerolis followed us from the sky, keeping a wary distance. The ferals looked up and bowed to the Djinn as he passed. A foolish belief in a false god. We were all guilty of it, really. I, too, once believed the Rand and Djinn to be gods, all powerful and all knowing. At least until I met a few of them. They are petty creatures of unearned power and self-gratifying delusions. They lord knowledge and wealth over those of us they deem lesser beings. They fool us into believing that we should be grateful to them, for they made the world what it is. It is all lies. The truth is, Ovaeris was here before the Rand and the Djinn, and if I ever have my way, it will be here long after they are all gone.
By the time we reached the first of the four chains tying the flying mountain the ground below, we had quite a following. Feral pahht, for the most part, curious enough to overcome their fear of me, and their awe of Aerolis. Ishtar did not accompany us. Too injured to walk, and too proud to be carried, she stayed back at our little house we were calling home. All my other friends were there, not wanting to miss out on what I was about to do. It is funny in many ways; Horralain carried the hammer and it was that giant who would also swing it, yet the act would always be attributed to me. True leaders take responsibility, not only for their own orders, and the consequences that follow, but also for unordered actions. I am responsible for more than a few atrocities committed on my behalf, despite never giving the orders. I am old enough and wise enough, these days at least, to know that I should have kept a warier eye on those under my command.
The edge was perilous and crumbling. Bits of the mountain, rocks both large and small, had long since broken away and floated there, caught in the grip of the same magic that kept the mountain afloat. Despite the erosion, there were no large satellite islands, unlike Ro'shan which had three, orbiting at varying heights and speeds. I approached the edge with caution and a will to show none of it. I have ever been good at putting on a show of bravado for an audience. Closer to the chain, I had to brush a few floating rocks and some dirt away. The first of the links erupted from the mountainside just a short way below the surface, no more than twice my own inconsiderable height. Even so, it would be impossible for Horralain to hit it from where we stood, and difficult to lower him down.
"How do we get him down?" Hardt asked, creeping close to the edge, yet keeping his weight on the back foot. "One of your portals?"
No! That thing is watching, Eskara. There is something about this place. This city. It is closer here; its attention is focused. It senses me through you, and it is curious.
I shook my head. "A portal is a bad idea. There's something watching on the other side of it."
Aerolis drew close, yet still far away from Horralain and the hammer. I felt the wind of the Djinn stirring my cloak, and others pulled their own clothes tighter. I had a Pyromancy Source inside once more, keeping me warm no matter the chill air.
"Do not engage with it, this thing on the other side," Aerolis hissed.
"Why? What do you know of it?"
"That it will tear you apart if it takes an interest." The vortex intensified. "I would suggest not attracting its eye."
The Djinn was not telling the truth, but then that didn't surprise me, and it shouldn't surprise you. I have noticed the powerful rarely tell the truth, but instead only offer up parts of it, enough to placate anyone with questions. And enough to hide true agendas behind the shadows of false truths. Secrets are a commodity. They are worth so much until they are revealed, and then they are worth nothing. I unpicked many of the Djinn's secrets before I left Do'shan. I learned the truth about them and the Rand. And I discovered why, despite all their power, the Djinn never use portals.
"Can you help us get down to the chain?" I asked Aerolis.
"No." The Djinn sounded sullen and sulky." My power is trapped here as Mezula's is trapped on Ro'shan. We are each of us prisoners in cages of the other's making."
"There must be something you can do. You are a Djinn, master of earth, metal, and stone. Your people are the wind, you are fire, you are lightning. So, stop sulking behind the walls of your cage, and help me break them."
After a few moments of blowing in my face, the Djinn's maddening turned away from me, the wind no longer pulling at my cloak. One of the nearby buildings, a squat thing of grey stone and in dire need of repair, crumbled into a thousand rocks, as though it hadn't just been worked stone. The rocks floated through the air towards us, all to the cooing purrs of the nearby ferals, then started reshaping themselves into a set of steps. The steps crashed to the ground with a thump that I felt through my feet and then slid forwards until they dropped over the edge of the mountain. I heard a clang as they hit the first link of the chain. The Djinn's whirling form turned back to me. "The rest is up to you, terran."
The steps were not wide, nor deep, and with the wind howling about us at such a height, it was treacherous footing. I went first, choosing the inelegant method of sliding down each step on my arse. Dignity is all fine and well, but the threat of a fatal drop will do wonders to cure you of such vanity. I chose the safest option to descend and Horralain copied me, Shatter held rigid in his hands.