Chimaera twoe-4

by Ian Irvine

  ‘Go on,’ Nisbeth quavered. ‘If you’ve more bad news we might as well hear it right away.’

  ‘That’s it,’ said Flydd. ‘Each lyrinx is the match of two of our soldiers, so we’re effectively outnumbered two to one. Surrounded as Borgistry is by forest, I don’t see how we can defend its borders.’

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Someone drew a deep, shuddering breath. Nish thought it had been Mira, though she was sitting back and he couldn’t see her. General Orgestre’s mouth opened and closed. For the first time in his life, it appeared, the hard-faced man was directly threatened, and he was terrified. He began buffing his golden medals, as if to find comfort there.

  ‘Then Borgistry will fall,’ said Nisbeth. ‘We must evacuate to our refuges.’

  ‘Where we’ll either starve in the drylands, freeze in the mountains or be eaten alive by midges in the stinking bogs of Mirrilladell,’ said Meylea Thrant, the merchant. ‘Had I known I was throwing my money away, I would have paid my military levies rather less cheerfully.’

  ‘You never handed over a copper grint without shedding a tear,’ General Orgestre said, now desperately polishing his chest ornaments.

  ‘I’d gladly pay it to an officer who’d earned his commission, rather than bought it,’ said Thrant.

  Dead silence. Orgestre swelled up like a red-faced toad. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

  ‘That’s not helpful,’ said Nisbeth, who was deathly pale. Her husband was supporting her. ‘General Troist, may we hear your view?’

  Troist, a neat man, apart from his mass of tangled, sandy curls, stood up. ‘As far as I know, no human army has ever beaten the enemy when the numbers were equal; nor should we expect to. Yet,’ he looked down one side of the table and up the other, ‘the situation is different now.’

  ‘Go on, General,’ said Nisbeth. ‘Do you have a plan to defend us?’

  ‘I’m beginning to formulate one. Flydd and Yggur have given us new hope. Farspeakers are going to revolutionise warfare, though we’re still working out how to make the best use of them. And with our thapters, essentially invulnerable to lyrinx attack, we can see the whole of a battlefield – indeed the whole of Borgistry – at once.’

  ‘They’ll attack in bad weather when you can’t see further than you can throw a spear,’ said Orgestre.

  ‘Then we’ll know when to expect them,’ said Troist.

  ‘But not where. Not how many,’ said Orgestre with relentless despair. ‘And both thapters and farspeakers are vulnerable to node-drainers. Only a fool would rely on such untested Arts at a time like this.’

  ‘We’re overusing the fields,’ said Mancer Crissinton Tybe, who had the narrowest, most angular face Nish had ever seen on a man, and a mouth that gashed it in two as if the back of his head were hinged. ‘It’s as simple as that. We’re abusing the natural forces, and so are the enemy, and there’s got to be a reckoning.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand you, Mancer Tybe,’ said Flydd.

  ‘What he means,’ said Mancer Rodrig, a small, deliberate man, ‘is that one day the fields will let us down when we most need them.’ His skin was starkly white but there were such dark rings around his eyes that he appeared to be wearing goggles. ‘We must wean ourselves off the fields before it’s too late. We’ve seen it in the stars.’

  ‘The stars!’ said Flydd, unable to contain his derision. ‘Unfortunately, my dear mancers, this war is being fought on solid ground and to give up the fields is to give up existence. While the enemy uses power we have to match it.’

  ‘Even to the ruin of the world,’ Crissinton Tybe intoned.

  ‘If the numbers are correct, we’ve lost the battle and the war,’ said Orgestre. His red face was now blotched with ugly purple stains like birthmarks.

  ‘It would almost be worth it,’ came a low voice from behind the veil, ‘to rid the world of the bloodless warmongers who send our young to die but never hazard their own lives. Have you ever seen active service, Orgestre?’ Nish had never heard such hatred as there was in Mira’s voice.

  ‘Mira, please,’ said Nisbeth. ‘Would you go on, General Troist?’

  ‘We have thapters, against which the enemy haven’t yet found a defence. We have farspeakers – which aren’t perfect, I agree – yet in this battle, in the limited compass of Borgistry, they’re worth twenty thousand troops. If the enemy break though in some unexpected place, our captains will know in time to send reinforcements, or withdraw.’

  ‘They have the numbers to overwhelm us,’ said Orgestre. ‘and they too can communicate over a distance.’

  ‘Their mindspeaking is of the most primitive sort,’ said Flydd. ‘Only those most powerful in the Art can use it. There’s still hope, since the lyrinx are just out of hibernation. They’ll be lethargic and wouldn’t normally do battle for another week. And they’ll be wasted and hungry when they get here.’

  ‘They’ll fight all the more fiercely for it,’ said Orgestre. ‘We must withdraw.’

  ‘They won’t fight as well, or for as long. We must force them into battle before they’re ready, and seize the advantage.’

  ‘You’ve got to find them first,’ said Orgestre. ‘How are you going to do that?’

  ‘We’re training animals to sniff them out,’ said Flydd, reluctantly.

  ‘What kind of animals?’

  ‘Pigs, as it happens. They can pick lyrinx even further away than dogs, and –’

  ‘Sniffer pigs! That’s one for the Histories. They’ll still be laughing about it in a thousand years.’

  ‘Enough, gentlemen,’ said Nisbeth. ‘We’ve got to decide on a plan.’

  ‘Get rid of this fool before he leads us all to destruction. As Grand Commander –’

  ‘No, General,’ said Nisbeth. ‘I bow to the Council and Scrutator Flydd’s leadership. Xervish?’

  Flydd set his jaw. ‘We fight for Borgistry and the whole world,’ he said flatly. ‘We can do nothing less.’

  Nish was out the door the moment the Council finished. He was running away, for he could not bear to see the contempt in Mira’s eyes. He fully expected guards to come for him, and all day he had an itch in the middle of his back, as if a target had been painted there. He desperately needed to talk to someone about it, but Irisis was the only person with whom he could share such a delicate matter and he had no idea when she was going to return.

  That afternoon he was summoned to Troist’s rooms. Nish went expecting the worst.

  ‘Come in,’ Troist said. He was a reserved man and Nish couldn’t read his expression. ‘I didn’t get the chance to congratulate you earlier, so let me do it now. You’ve done great deeds since I last saw you at Gnulp Landing. I wouldn’t have thought any man could have accomplished so much. And now this new miracle: air-floaters built, thapters recovered from Snizort, pilots found and trained, and all unexpected but most timely. There’s no man under my command who could have done it, Cryl-Nish.’

  ‘It was … everyone worked very hard, surr.’

  ‘And no one harder or more intelligently than you.’ He gave Nish his hand, and Nish shook it in rather a daze. ‘You’ve given us a chance that even I – and my wife Yara calls me an incurable optimist – never dreamed of having.’

  ‘Thank you, surr.’ Nish swallowed, still thinking about Mira. For all his bravery on the battlefield, he would never find the courage to face one small woman. ‘I was wondering if I might come with you, surr, when you go to war? I might be more useful at the front than sitting here.’

  Troist gave him a keen glance. ‘I’ve need of an aide who can get things done. If Scrutator Flydd has no objection, I’d be delighted to have you. I’ll be leaving in the morning.’

  Scrutator Flydd had many objections, which he put strenuously, but Nish would not back down.

  ‘You’re a curious chap, Nish,’ said Flydd. ‘I recall a time, not so long ago, when you pleaded with me to keep you away from the front-lines. Now you’re begging to go there.’ He surveyed Nish just as
keenly as Troist had. ‘Are you sure you’re not running away from something?’

  Nish tried to pass it off. ‘Well, I’m a different man now.’

  ‘You’re a man, not a boy pretending to be one. That’s the difference. Oh, go on then. I dare say Troist needs you more than I do.’

  Troist and his retinue of officers were heading for Clew’s Top, east of The Elbow in southern Borgistry, where a small force of his army was stationed, to await the main army now racing back from Strebbit. Nish rode with them in a cramped, bone-jarring clanker. It seemed such an old-fashioned conveyance now, so noisy that he couldn’t think straight, and joltingly uncomfortable.

  ‘Did you happen to see Mira yesterday?’ Troist said that afternoon.

  ‘I didn’t get the chance,’ Nish lied.

  ‘She was looking for you. And so were Yara and my twins.’

  ‘I was working on the supply records until late.’ Hiding, as it happened.

  ‘I dare say she’ll find you when we get back.’

  If we get back. The lyrinx generally attacked the command centre from the air at night, with massive force, at the beginning of a battle. Just so had Troist gained his command after all the more senior officers were slain.

  FORTY-NINE

  Tiaan had spent weeks in the thapter, alone but for Malien, who flew it while Tiaan monitored the fields and refined her maps. She had now surveyed the whole of western Lauralin save for the northern sector of the Great Chain of Lakes, which roughly marked the boundary between the lyrinx-occupied lands to the west, Borgistry in the centre and impoverished Tacnah to the north.

  Tiaan was now completing her lakes survey, after which they were to go to Borgistry to help with the coming war. They’d heard from Yggur the previous day, though perturbations in the ethyr had prevented them from replying with their slave farspeaker.

  The Great Chain of Lakes lay in rugged, rifted and sunken lands bounded by great fault escarpments on either side, dotted with fuming volcanoes and boggy geyser country. Complex lines of nodes ran along the rift valley and the area had proven troublesome to map, but now, almost a week later than Tiaan had expected, the first rough chart was finished.

  Malien was flying across Warde Yallock, the longest and deepest of all the lakes, and the cradle of civilisation on Santhenar. ‘Let’s set down there, by the water. I’m so weary of flying.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Tiaan. ‘You’ve been doing it for months with hardly a break.’

  Malien headed towards an open area on the western side of the lake, landing at the top of a long green slope that ran to the water’s edge. Patches of forest spread over the hills behind them like dark green eiderdowns. Beyond the lake, twinned volcanoes smoked. They strolled out to the edge and Tiaan bathed while Malien kept watch. The water was surprisingly warm for the season. Afterwards Tiaan dried her hair in the sun and Malien swam out until she was just a dot in the distance.

  They had lunch in mid-afternoon, in the shade of the thapter. They could see all the way across the lake, where the setting sun illuminated tall cliffs of red stone.

  ‘It’s peaceful here,’ said Tiaan. ‘I’m so sick of the war.’

  ‘You’ve never known anything else.’

  ‘It must seem like the blink of an eye to you.’

  Malien laughed aloud. ‘Not even in my advanced years could I consider one hundred and fifty years to be the blink of an eye. But it has been a bad time, the worst I can remember, though my people have scarcely been involved in the war. We leave the lyrinx alone and they don’t trouble us.’

  ‘What was it like, in olden times? Was it as good as the tales say?’

  ‘No, nor as bad, in my lifetime, anyway. There was peace, of a sort, before the Forbidding was broken and everything changed. Oh, there were always little wars going on somewhere, but few people were affected by them. Most lived their lives without ever seeing an army, save during a ceremonial march. But the big difference was the freedom.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Tiaan had never known freedom before leaving the manufactory, and could not imagine it. The Council organised every aspect of people’s brief lives from the moment they were born until their untimely deaths.

  ‘Well, people were free to move to another place or another country, if they wished to. They might not have been welcomed, but there was no law to stop them. They could do whatever kind of work they could make a living at. There were no examinations and no Council of Scrutators telling everyone what to do.’

  ‘And no breeding factories,’ said Tiaan.

  ‘Certainly not! Women could choose to have children, or not. It wasn’t a crime to prevent conception then.’

  That reminded Tiaan of a puzzle she’d often thought about. ‘When I was held in the breeding factory, I saw something that I’ve wondered about ever since.’

  ‘What was it?’ Malien lay on the grass and closed her eyes. ‘Can you keep an eye out, in case I doze off?’

  Tiaan climbed onto the shooter’s platform and scanned the country. There was no living creature in sight. She sat beside Malien again.

  ‘I don’t know who my father is and Marnie wouldn’t tell me. But one time in the Matron’s office I happened to see a book – the bloodline register for the breeding factory at Tiksi.’

  ‘Bloodline register?’

  ‘Yes. It was like a human stud book.’

  ‘You old humans are obsessed about your family Histories. The breeding factory would have to have records of the parents.’

  ‘But it was what was in the records,’ said Tiaan. ‘The talents of the parents …’

  Malien yawned. ‘You should ask Flydd about that. I’ve never understood why old humans do the things they do. I suppose we’d better find a place to hide for the night. I’m too tired to fly all the way to Borgistry.’

  In the morning they flew due south over the unending expanse of northern Worm Wood, and in the early afternoon Tiaan saw a cluster of volcanoes in the distance.

  ‘There’s a place I’ve not properly surveyed,’ she said. ‘Booreah Ngurle, the Burning Mountain.’ It stood at least a thousand spans higher than the other volcanoes in the cluster and was belching dark grey clouds of ash.

  ‘We might as well have a quick look at it on the way to Lybing.’

  Before they reached the lowest of the peaks, as they were flying across dense forest, Tiaan looked up from her map. ‘That’s funny!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There’s a strong node here but the field is really tenuous.’ She peered over the side but saw only the same untracked forest they had been crossing for hours. It was getting dark.

  ‘Fields fluctuate,’ said Malien.

  ‘Not as much as this.’

  ‘We can go back and forth if you want to take a closer look.’

  ‘No.’ Tiaan felt uneasy without knowing why. ‘We’re supposed to be heading for Borgistry.’

  ‘There’s time. Yggur said they wouldn’t be fighting for a few days yet.’

  ‘In that case, go on to Booreah Ngurle. It has a double node that I’m interested in.’

  Malien flew around the peak, then back and forth across it, to either side of the ash clouds.

  ‘All finished, Tiaan?’

  ‘Um, can we go back to that weak field now? I want to take another look.’

  They flew north on the same track as they had taken south. Two small chains of hills ran to their left. The area that interested Tiaan lay a little to the east of them. ‘Now turn around and go back.’

  ‘Again?’ said Malien when they had returned to their starting point.

  ‘No! Just keep going. I’ve got to think.’

  ‘Perhaps if you were to think aloud …’

  ‘Sorry, Malien. The fields down there are all wrong. The nodes are strong ones but their fields are just points.’

  ‘Meaning that something has almost drained them dry?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Tiaan. ‘But why would the enemy put node-drainers in the middle of tr
ackless forest. We’d never fight in such a place. It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘How many fields have shrunk?’

  ‘All of them, over an area of forest ten leagues square.’

  ‘All of them?’ Malien stared at her. ‘It would take an army of lyrinx flying over the forest to drain that much from the field.’

  ‘And there aren’t any fliers in sight.’

  ‘An army moving through the forest then?’

  ‘They don’t use the field when they’re marching. Unless …’

  ‘Unless they’re travelling under a vast concealment,’ said Malien, ‘even greater than the one that stone-formed thirty thousand of them into the pinnacles above Gumby Marth. And it would have to be much greater to conceal an army on the march. We’d better get back. Whatever Flydd’s expecting, I’m sure it’s not an attack from the north, between Booreah Ngurle and the Peaks of Borg.’

  ‘They must have done a forced march all the way from Strebbit, to have got here so quickly.’ Tiaan measured distances on the map. ‘They’re only twenty-five leagues from Borgistry and lyrinx march faster than soldiers. They could do it in a couple of days, even through the forest.’

  ‘Try the farspeaker again.’

  Tiaan did so, but heard nothing except a shrill whistling. ‘What are we going to do?’

  Malien jerked the thapter around in mid-air. ‘We’re going to Lybing.’

  They arrived over the city at the darkest hour of the night. ‘Do you know where to go?’ said Tiaan as they approached.

  ‘I haven’t been to Lybing in a couple of hundred years.’

  ‘I’ve never been here.’

  ‘There’s the Great North Road,’ said Malien. ‘I’ll set down at the northern gate.’

  The terrified guards did not know whether to fire their crossbows or run screaming as the thapter whined into the pool of light outside the gates.

  ‘Hoy!’ roared Malien. ‘The enemy is nigh. Where can we find the governor?’

  The guards each pointed in a different direction.

  ‘General Troist?’ said Malien. ‘Scrutator Xervish Flydd? Lord Yggur?’