Once my feet touched the chain, I knelt and pressed a hand to the freezing metal. I could tell no difference between that and any other metal, but then Ingomancy is not one of attunements. However, I had senses no other did, and yet I felt no fear from the chain. It seemed to me, that it was nothing but cold, lifeless iron. I stood and backed up a small step to allow Horralain past me and he grunted, his face intense with concentration I could well understand. We had, both of us, climbed the great chain at Ro'shan and neither of us wanted a reminder of such a harrowing ordeal.
I pointed at the next link in the chain. "That one. Hit it."
Horralain hefted the hammer in his hands, a look of consternation creasing his brutish features. "You don't need to be down here," he said in that slow voice of his.
I snorted and braced myself against a gust of wind that threatened to rip me free from the precarious footing. "Just get on with it, Horralain."
The big Terrelan grunted, swung Shatter up, over his head, and brought it down on the next link in the chain. He didn't swing it like a weapon at an enemy, rather like a pick at a rock. We were, all of us, forged into what we are by the Pit. It remains in us and will continue to do so long after the rest of Isha has forgotten its existence.
A large section of the link shattered into jagged shards of metal that crumbled away, falling into the void below. Do'shan trembled.
I do not idly say that the mountain shook. I do not mean a localised shudder, but more like an earthquake. Which was somewhat disconcerting given we were so high up, the ground below was a hazy image of muted colour and little else. Horralain and I both collapsed, gripping hold of the chain for our lives. I must admit, I'm quite glad the big thug had the presence of mind to keep hold of the hammer. A wave of fear washed over me, and I almost drowned in it. Ssserakis drank in as much as it could, but even the horror had limits. It was as if the mountain itself was terrified. Still the chain held. Horralain had hit it too high up and the links had not yet parted.
"Hit it again," I shouted over the roaring of both wind and mountain. Horralain turned wide eyes my way, but there must have been something in my flashing glare that convinced him not to argue. He scrambled to his feet, swung the hammer once more, and brought it down on the last of the link clinging in place.
Another section of the link shattered and fell away, and with it went the chain. I suppose I should be glad the link we were standing on was half buried in the side of the mountain. I had not the foresight to think what might happen once the tension was taken away. The mountain shook once more, fear mixed with pain turning into a scream so loud I could not tell if it were Iron's or my own. Still, I crawled to the edge of the link and watched the chain fall to the earth below. It took a long time, or perhaps it only seemed that way, and the devastation it caused look so small. But it is not. Each link as large as two houses and there were hundreds of links. Trees were crushed below the falling weight, and the earth itself was scarred. I did that. Caused it. A permanent rent in the world. Even years later, the forest is struggling to recover, to reclaim the damaged ground. Horralain and I both stood and watched until the chain came to a crashing stop. The dirt and dust thrown up into the air made for a dizzying.
Eventually I looked up to Horralain. He gripped hold of Shatter with white knuckles. I noticed then the mountain had stopped trembling, at least for now. "Three more to go," I said with a smile I didn't feel.
The following two chains went more smoothly, relatively speaking. It took a large part of the day to traverse the city to each one, and we collected more feral pahht each step of the way. They tittered and purred amongst themselves, excitement and fear in equal measure. Even they could tell something momentous was afoot. I think perhaps the trembling of the mountain scared them out from their underground dens. The weapons of war sat silent and I was thankful for it. They worshipped and obeyed the Djinn, and Aerolis accompanying us was a vital endorsement.
The other chains were closer to the surface of the mountain and could be reached with only a careful drop over the edge. Even knowing there was a surface below, it is quite a thing to dangle one's legs over the edge of nothing and let yourself go. The incessant call of the void tugged at me, but my determination was set, and I ignored the fatalistic desire. I don't know why I felt the need to stand beside Horralain each time he swung the hammer. Perhaps it was because, even though he was swinging Shatter, it was my choice. My will. My responsibility.
I watched each chain fall to the earth so far below, and I felt the monstrous Aspect within the mountain shudder with pain and fear. Perspective is an odd thing. I saw the Aspect as a monster, a parasite of unequalled scope. A thing to fear. But Iron was not just that. The Aspect was as much a prisoner on Do'shan as the Djinn. Mezula had installed Iron and given her son purpose; to lock himself in place and the mountain with him. He could not move. Could not run. Could not hide. And the chains were as his limbs. I was shattering those chains, breaking his limbs, chopping them off. And all Iron could do was tremble. He couldn't even cry out. Iron was never a monster; he was a pawn in a game much greater than him. A victim. Mezula was the monster. And so was I.
With each broken chain, Do'shan shifted. It was not a fast shifting, but the pull of its sister city tugged at the mountain. They were designed to orbit one another, a constant whirling dance across the face of Ovaeris. By the time we came to the final chain, it was pulled taught, the city straining to be free and join in with its sister's dance.
In the light of the day, I could see something on the horizon, a small dark blur against the blue sky, fuzzy to my sight. It was our surviving flyer; a wooden ship kept aloft by some contraption with propellers, powered by a Kinemancy Source. Our larger flyer had been shot down by the feral pahht and the weapons the Djinn made for them, but I felt some hope at seeing the smaller vessel still flying nearby even after days without contact. If we could bring it in, at least we would have a way down to the ground. It had not escaped my notice that the moment I broke the final chain, we were stranded on Do'shan.
"Your kind are everywhere these days," the Djinn said. Aerolis was floating above us, its form a grey blur of movement against the blue sky. "There is another Aspect on that ship."
"What do they look like?" I asked.
The Djinn laughed, hissing wind. "She looks angry."
Hardt groaned beside me. "Coby?"
I nodded. "She probably hid on board as the operator without us ever knowing. A spy to report back to Mezula."
"Could we shoot her down?" Imiko asked, her voice more timid than I was used to from her. "Like they did to our larger flyer."
"No." I only breathed the word, but I meant it. I'm not sure if it was mercy that made the decision, or guilt. Silva's blood was on my hands, no matter what Hardt or anyone else said. She wouldn't want me to kill her sister. Despite all the friction between them, Silva always loved Coby no matter what. "Let her go. The Rand will hear about this one way or another. I'd rather not kill any more of her children if possible."
Hardt's big hand landed on my shoulder with a firm squeeze. I didn't need to look to know he'd be smiling. He was always proud of me when I chose against violence. None of us realised what that decision would mean. How it would come back on us. A part of me wishes I had at least tried to end it there. Mercy is almost always the harder choice, with the more dire of consequences.