Chimaera twoe-4

by Ian Irvine

  ‘We still have no defence against them,’ Troist said heavily. ‘Apart from leather leg armour, yet another burden for our overburdened troops.’

  ‘Leg armour was tried in the east,’ said the scrutator. ‘The uggnatl simply went for the groin, the one thing most men fear more than death. So would I have, in my day.’

  That drew a smile or two around the room, for Flydd was such an ugly, withered old coot that no one could imagine him at the business of procreation. Those who knew what had happened to him at the hands of Ghorr’s torturers did not smile, however.

  ‘What about mail or plate armour?’ called a uniformed officer from the front row.

  ‘It’s too heavy,’ said Troist. ‘It slows our soldiers too much against the lyrinx. Thankfully the ones bred in Oellyll succumbed to the fungus, so we won’t be facing them.’

  ‘My council has long feared it would come to this,’ said Governor Nisbeth, after a quiet word to her councillors. ‘We made a plan for the end last spring. Now we must put it into effect. We won’t send your brave men to certain death, General Troist. Our soldiers have been dying for more than a hundred years, and it has availed us naught. Our beautiful land must be abandoned, since it is undefendable. We will evacuate Borgistry to the last peasant and go east into the Borgis Woods. There are vast cave systems in the Peaks of Borg, as well as along Lake Parnggi and in the southern arm of the Great Mountains, beyond the lake. It’s rugged, inhospitable country, but we know it well. Let the enemy pursue us there if they dare. In the caves, we’ll maintain what’s left of our civilisation for as long as we can endure.’

  ‘Nobly spoken,’ Flydd declared. ‘Where’s Grand Commander Orgestre?’

  ‘Packing his bags and slipping out the window,’ someone in the crowd said in a low voice. No one laughed.

  Flydd scowled. ‘What of your army, Troist?’

  ‘We’ll form a rearguard to shield the escape, then make our way east by paths suitable for clankers.’ He paused. ‘What a sorry day this is.’

  There was another silence. No one wanted to break it.

  A very tall man at the back of the room stood up and threw off his hood, and a mass of woolly hair sprang out in all directions. There was a stir around him. It was Gilhaelith. He began to walk up to the front, and such was his presence that no one said a word. He reached the foot of the dais and stopped.

  ‘How the devil did you get in here?’ said Yggur, rising to his feet. ‘Guards –’

  ‘Sit down, Yggur,’ Flydd said wearily. ‘Gilhaelith is the one man who might tell us something we don’t know about our enemy.’

  ‘He betrayed Fiz Gorgo,’ Yggur said savagely, ‘and I won’t have a bar of him.’

  ‘You imprisoned me for no other reason than that you disliked me,’ said Gilhaelith, almost serenely. Not a trace of his previous bitterness was evident.

  ‘I imprisoned you for dealing with the enemy.’

  ‘And I merely did my best to escape.’

  ‘Which showed Ghorr the way. Without him –’

  ‘Enough!’ grated Klarm, and they both fell silent. ‘You came to our Council for a reason, Gilhaelith. What is it? Have you anything to offer humanity in its final hours, or are you here as an emissary for your lyrinx masters?’

  ‘I barely escaped from Alcifer with my life,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘They planned to eat me once they’d finished with me.’

  ‘How did you escape?’ said Flydd, with an edge to his voice.

  ‘Your attack with the spores threw them into confusion. I acted with dispatch and was lucky enough to spot an air-floater, which brought me here.’

  ‘Hmn,’ Flydd said, as if sifting his words for any grains of truth. ‘What do you have to offer us in this emergency?’

  ‘Information.’

  ‘In exchange for what?’

  ‘A place on the Council.’

  ‘Not in my lifetime,’ said Yggur.

  ‘You declined to be on it,’ Flydd snapped. ‘You have no say.’ He looked up at Gilhaelith. ‘First you’ll have to convince us to trust you and, considering your history …’

  ‘Very well,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘I’ll give you this freely, as a token of my good faith. The relics the lyrinx took from the tar pits of Snizort are most precious to them.’

  ‘We already knew that, but go on,’ said Flydd.

  ‘They stole me away from Nyriandiol to locate the relics. Indeed, the only reason they built their city underground at Snizort, decades ago, was to find them, and they prolonged the battle for Snizort for a day, at the cost of thousands of lyrinx lives, just so they could get them safely to Alcifer.’

  ‘Why do they value these relics? What can they possibly mean to the lyrinx?’

  ‘I don’t know, but the matriarch personally took charge of them when Alcifer was being evacuated. If you can seize the relics, the enemy would bargain with you to get them back.’

  ‘Where are they now?’ said Flydd.

  ‘She was trapped with them when part of the underground city collapsed.’

  ‘And yet the other lyrinx left Oellyll?’ Flydd said doubtfully.

  ‘The infection was spreading and they dared not stay. But the relics are safe and Gyrull is still alive. It will just take some digging to get them out.’

  ‘You seem to know an awful lot about it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gilhaelith without elaboration.

  ‘It’s valuable information,’ said Flydd, ‘though I’m not about to risk an army digging under Alcifer. As soon as the lyrinx discovered we were there, they’d wipe us out. Do you have any information that can help us stave off the enemy? Considering your record, Gilhaelith, nothing else will do.’

  Gilhaelith opened his mouth, but closed it again as if he’d thought better of it.

  ‘Come on, man!’ said Flydd. ‘I know you assisted them to develop a more powerful device than their node-drainers.’

  After a long, reluctant hesitation, Gilhaelith said in a low voice, ‘I was forced to it, and this is for the ears of your Council only. They’ve grown a new device which they call a flisnadr, a power patterner. A device for controlling the flow of power from a field, rather than just shutting it off.’

  ‘Have they now?’ said Flydd. ‘I’ve been thinking along those lines myself. We must talk more about this privately, Gilhaelith.’ He put out his hand. ‘Welcome aboard.’

  The evacuation of Borgistry began at once, the people melting into the uncanny Borgis Woods. General Orgestre’s army, the smaller, had gone with them, while Troist’s force remained behind to guard the rear, in case the enemy came on more swiftly than expected. The Council and the governor were relocating to Hysse, a fertile valley surrounded by almost unclimbable ridges, between Parnggi and the Ramparts of Tacnah. Irisis was to go with them, along with Tiaan. Nish was to remain as Troist’s adjutant for the time being, though he regretted it now. There was no saying he’d ever see any of his friends again.

  Three days later, Tiaan, Nish and Irisis were standing by Malien’s thapter while the last of the refugees assembled. Nish didn’t know what to say to his friends. He’d rehearsed his farewells a dozen times but couldn’t find any words that fitted such a desperate occasion. Irisis wasn’t saying anything either, and Tiaan just bore the faraway look she’d had since seeing the piles of lyrinx dead.

  Nish, recognising several familiar faces in the crowd, waved. It was Troist’s tall horsy wife Yara and the twins, Meriwen and Liliwen, who would be fourteen now. He’d last seen them a year and a half ago at Morgadis. What must they be thinking after being forced to abandon all they’d held dear?

  ‘How long have we got?’ said Nish, wondering if there was time to say hello and farewell. The Council’s thapter stood inside a ring of clankers, the army camp was packed up, the latrines filled in and everyone was waiting for the order to depart.

  No one answered, so Nish went across, a little tentatively. The twins sang out and ran to meet him. Yara didn’t run, but her face lit up at seeing Nish. He shook
her hand and embraced the twins, sturdy girls who took after their handsome father. Their wavy hair, the colour of copper wire, hung in plaits halfway down their backs. They were almost identical, though Liliwen had thicker, darker eyebrows.

  ‘We’re very cross with you,’ said Meriwen. ‘You were supposed to come and see us in Lybing last spring, before the battle.’

  ‘Extremely cross,’ said Liliwen. ‘We cooked dinner and everything.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nish. ‘I was called away. You know what it’s –’

  ‘We think you ran away from Aunty Mira,’ said Meriwen, frowning at him.

  ‘Because you were too scared,’ said Liliwen.

  ‘Like you did last time,’ added Meriwen. ‘With your pants –’

  ‘Girls!’ cried Yara, scandalised. ‘How dare you speak to Cryl-Nish like that. He’s a great hero and he saved your lives. Twice!’

  ‘It’s a funny kind of hero that runs away from little Aunty Mira,’ sniffed Meriwen, then giggled.

  ‘With his pants down around his –’ chortled Liliwen.

  ‘Right!’ said Yara. ‘I’m going to wash both your mouths out, and don’t think you’re too old to get a good whack on the bare backside, either.’

  They sobered up instantly. ‘Sorry, Mother,’ they chorused. ‘But please, please let us stay. After all, Nish did save our lives, twice, and we might never see him again.’

  ‘Don’t flutter your eyelashes at me, young ladies,’ said Yara. ‘Wherever did you learn such tricks? Your father will be horrified when I tell him. Now come away. Mira has something to say to Nish.’

  And before Nish could turn and run, Mira stepped out of the crowd, right beside him.

  ‘M-Mira!’ he stammered. ‘I – I –’

  She took his hand. ‘Nish, why didn’t you come to see me?’

  ‘I was too scared; too mortified …’

  ‘But why? You did nothing wrong. We were just two lonely, unhappy people, taking comfort where we could, until I had too much to drink and my nightmares overturned everything.’

  ‘But … the guards …’

  ‘It was all a terrible misunderstanding. I’d called them back and explained before you even reached the river.’

  ‘They weren’t hunting me at all?’ said Nish.

  ‘Of course not. I was terrified you’d drown. They were trying to bring you back, as an honoured guest who’d saved my nieces from degradation and murder.’

  ‘And all this time, I’ve been living in fear of you,’ said Nish. ‘And not just from that night. Whenever I did the … business of war, I imagined how disgusted you’d be.’

  She sighed and took his hand. ‘You met me at my lowest point, Nish. War is a horror, but do you think I don’t honour my man, and my sons, for the way they fought and died? Of course I do. I hated the old warmongering Council with all my heart, but I respect the brave men and women who fight and die for us. And I honour you, too.’ She kissed him on the forehead. ‘Go now, they’re calling for you. And go with good heart. We’ll all be thinking of you.’

  Nish turned away, turned back and waved, then strode to the thapter feeling better than he had in a long time.

  Klarm, who had just returned from a surveillance flight in one of the thapters, came waddling up. ‘The enemy are two days away to the west, streaming through the forest. And another lyrinx army, almost as large, draws near to The Elbow from the south, heading up the Westway.’

  ‘Then we’d better get moving,’ said Troist. After making sure the refugees were well away, he was planning to retreat up the Great North Road through Worm Wood, then east, since the Borgis Woods were too rugged for his clankers. ‘If they send a sizeable force across Worm Wood by Booreah Ngurle, as they did last spring, we’ll be cut off.’

  Nish embraced Tiaan, then Irisis, who thumped him on the shoulder and turned away abruptly. She practically ran to the thapter and got in without looking back. Tiaan didn’t even say goodbye – she seemed in another world altogether.

  It wasn’t until the thapter had lifted off that Nish realised what he wanted to say to them, but by then it was too late.

  FIFTY-NINE

  Hysse was a small, pretty but incredibly overcrowded town at the top of a green valley surrounded by knife-edged ridges. All of its homes and buildings were built from silver weathered timber, with steep, pointed shingle roofs and green painted doors and window sashes. There were flower gardens everywhere, though many had been trampled by the deluge of refugees from Borgistry.

  Tiaan set the thapter down in the market square, opened the hatch and was assailed by the overpowering perfume of night hyssamin, for which the town had been named. She was breathing deep when Flydd came running up, with Yggur not far behind. The sun was just rising.

  ‘Don’t get out, Tiaan,’ panted Flydd. ‘We’re going north right away.’

  ‘Where?’ said Tiaan, who had one leg over the side. She rubbed her eyes. They’d stopped in the middle of the night for a few hours’ sleep but she was still tired.

  ‘I’ll tell you after we’ve gone. I’ve had an idea.’

  She couldn’t resist saying, ‘I hope it’s better than the last one.’

  A pair of soldiers laboured up, carrying something heavy in a small wooden crate. A second pair followed with a larger crate, while a third were directed to another thapter, standing across the square next to a stall proclaiming the merits of yellow quinces, hard green pears and other mid-autumn fruit. Tiaan’s mouth watered, but none of the stalls were open yet.

  ‘Come on, Fyn-Mah!’ Flydd roared over the side. ‘Yggur, Irisis, go with Chissmoul in her thapter.’

  ‘Where?’ said Irisis, getting out gingerly. Her ankle and leg still troubled her.

  ‘East. I’ll call you on the farspeaker. Just go.’

  Yggur and Irisis clambered into Chissmoul’s thapter, which shot into the air as if booted by a giant, to disappear eastward towards the Great Mountains.

  ‘That pilot has a distinctly reckless streak,’ Flydd observed. ‘Malien, would you take the controller, please? I need Tiaan to do something on the way.’

  ‘But …’ said Tiaan.

  ‘Come on!’ snapped Flydd. ‘We don’t have any time to waste.’

  ‘Where to?’ said Malien, as Fyn-Mah climbed in, carrying a heavy bag, and went below.

  ‘We need to find a powerful node that isn’t being used by anyone. Tiaan, where’s the nearest one that fits?’

  Tiaan thought for a moment. ‘At the southern end of Warde Yallock.’

  ‘Perfect,’ said Flydd.

  ‘What is your idea?’ Tiaan asked when they were among scattered fluffy clouds.

  ‘Actually, it was yours,’ said Flydd. ‘I’m going to test your idea about speaking back and forth between connected nodes. Before we get to Warde Yallock I want you to try something. First, to make a map in your head of all the nodes in this area, plus all those you know to be connected in some way.’

  ‘I’ve been doing that for ages.’

  ‘I thought you might be. Do you know of any nodes connected to the one we’re heading for?’

  She closed her eyes, mentally rotating her network of node symbols, field colours and interconnecting lines. It took some minutes before she was sure. ‘There should be one at the foot of the Ramparts of Tacnah.’

  ‘Where abouts?’

  Tiaan showed Flydd on the map.

  ‘That’s eighty leagues from where we’re headed. Isn’t there anything nearer?’

  ‘Probably, but without studying every node I wouldn’t know.’

  Flydd set up Golias’s globe and called Irisis. ‘Tell Chissmoul to fly to the Ramparts of Tacnah.’ He gave instructions. ‘Call on your farspeaker when you’re in place.’

  Malien veered to the left to pass over a mass of lyrinx, assembled near a lake beyond the forest. Flydd counted the enemy numbers, then called Troist and gave their position.

  Once they were in place at the southern end of Warde Yallock, late that afternoo
n, Flydd dragged the crate into the shelter of a tilted plate of rock, one of a group of ancient standing stones dating from the dawn of civilisation on Santhenar, and prised the smaller crate open. Tiaan yawned as she looked inside. It contained a complex device made of green crystals linked into an open sphere with thick wafers of beaten platinum, silver, gold and copper foil.

  ‘It’s my version of the node-drainer that we encountered in Snizort,’ said Flydd. ‘Yggur and I have been working on it, on and off, for months. Irisis and Yggur have another. They’ll call when they’re ready.’

  He lay down under the tree, tipped his hat over his eyes to keep out the sinking sun, and began to snore.

  ‘You might have told me what I’m supposed to do,’ muttered Tiaan.

  ‘He likes to be mysterious,’ said Fyn-Mah. ‘Get some rest. You look exhausted.’

  ‘I haven’t slept well since we attacked Oellyll, but I won’t be able to sleep until I know what I’m meant to do.’

  ‘As I understand it, you’re to send messages, using Golias’s globe, to Irisis. She’ll send back while we watch how weak or strong the messages are, how much delayed, and so forth. Afterwards we’ll set the node-drainer to draw power from this node and send again. We’ll take ever more power, and do it over and over, while Irisis and Yggur will be doing the same at the linked node.’

  ‘To what purpose?’ said Tiaan.

  ‘We hope to discover how the fields, or the nodes, are linked. If we can solve that problem it might just give us a chance.’

  Flydd woke Tiaan in the middle of the night and she sat with Golias’s globe on a flat rock, waiting, listening and sending, until dawn. The globe squelched periodically, conveying reports of lyrinx sightings all over the place, attacks in various spots, and details of the movements of the refugees and their escorts. Troist’s army had taken heavy casualties before beating off their ambushers, and the report was gruesomely graphic. Tiaan’s resolve to find a peaceful solution grew stronger.