by Ian Irvine
‘Will it be enough?’ Nish focussed his spyglass upon the straggling line of lyrinx, and the squadrons of clankers that continued to harry them, where the country permitted it. The fleetest of foot were not far from the base of Nithmak now.
‘For many, though not the stragglers. Let’s go up to Tiaan.’
It proved a long climb up steep and narrow stairs. ‘I don’t see how we’re going to get half a million lyrinx up here,’ panted Nish as he rested halfway up.
‘The gate doesn’t have to open here,’ said Malien.
Tiaan was sitting on a glass chair in a room near the top of the tower. Unlike the lower sections, its walls were spiralling strips of black metal, like the metal of which constructs were made, whose spaces had been filled in with glass. The floor was made of metal crescents cunningly locked together. A table of woven wire supported a black metal cube. Tiaan’s head rested on her hands and she was staring intently at the cube.
‘Is that it?’ said Nish. ‘Or is it a last joke by Vithis?’
Tiaan turned her head and stared right through him, as if she didn’t recognise him. Nish’s scalp prickled.
‘Vithis was not a joking man,’ said Malien.
‘There’s something inside,’ said Tiaan, clutching the amplimet in both hands. ‘I can see its aura, but I don’t know how to open the cube.’
‘There’s not much time,’ said Gilhaelith, peering out through the thick glass.
Nish went over beside him. The air was heavy with flying lyrinx. ‘Is that an air-floater, way up high?’
‘If it is, it’s bigger than the air-dreadnoughts that attacked Fiz Gorgo. I wonder what it’s up to? Orgestre could finish this by dropping boulders on us.’
‘Boulders,’ sniffed Nish.
Crash! The tower gave a gentle shudder.
‘Sometimes the simplest attacks are the most effective. That didn’t miss by much.’
‘Is there anything we can do?’
‘Go up in the thapter,’ said Tiaan. ‘Keep them away. I can’t think.’
‘Come on, Nish,’ said Malien. ‘We’ve got work to do.
‘The box doesn’t open,’ said Tiaan, as Nish and Malien clattered down the stairs. ‘Why?’
‘Perhaps it’s locked,’ said Irisis.
‘Of course it is. Vithis said so. And he gave Malien the key, that sapphire rod.’ Tiaan ran to the top of the stairs, shouting, ‘Malien. The key!’
Nish came running up with it. ‘Thank you,’ Tiaan said absently, already turning away. Then she swung back. ‘Nish?’
‘Yes?’
She put out her arms. ‘Good luck.’
SEVENTY-SIX
They stopped halfway for a breather and Nish looked down through a slit in the stone. Lyrinx now clustered on every surface, wings folded. Others clung to the sides of the pinnacle and thousands more wheeled in the air. Far below, the water was flooding towards the lyrinx stragglers, still fifteen leagues away on the salt. Other lake lobes pressed towards the middle of the line, forcing the fleeing lyrinx further out into the Dry Sea. Water was pooling there in places, too.
As Nish and Malien ran through the broken door, their way was blocked by half a dozen lyrinx, Liett at their head. Her claws were fully extended.
‘I knew it was a lie,’ she spat. ‘Well, you won’t live to enjoy your revenge.’
‘The flood is not our doing,’ said Malien, putting her hands up.
‘You’ll die for it just the same,’ said Liett.
She sprang and, before Malien could do anything to defend herself, the claws went around her throat. Nish went for his sword, knowing it was hopeless, but it was knocked out of his hand.
‘This serves you not at all, Liett,’ Malien managed to croak.
She looked up and Liett followed her gaze. Another rock fell, smashing into the edge of the peak and spraying splinters of stone everywhere.
‘Those air-dreadnoughts rise higher than you can fly, Liett. One such missile, perfectly aimed, can destroy the tower and the port-all that creates the gate. And then we’ll all drown. You, me and all of your kind. But we can save you.’
At the word drown, Liett’s crest, the only part of her skin that had colour, shimmered with emerald green. She shuddered, then let Malien go. ‘After all that’s been done to us, I can’t bear to put my trust in humankind.’
‘I’m not humankind, Liett, I’m Aachim. My people have never waged war on lyrinx, and my record is inscribed in the pages of the Histories for all to read. Besides, it’s not necessary to trust, merely to gamble. Lyrinx are not averse to a wager, I’m told.’
It seemed to hit the right chord. ‘Everything in life is a gamble,’ said Liett, letting her go. ‘All right – go up in your flier. Already the water laps around my people’s ankles – I can sense their cries from here.’
Three air-dreadnoughts now wheeled high above the tower. ‘They’re armed with javelards,’ said Nish.
‘So are we,’ said Malien. ‘Get to your post.’
As soon as he was in the shooter’s position, Malien took the thapter straight up, relying on the lyrinx to get out of her path. The air-dreadnoughts were large, Nish saw, but had only a small crew, sacrificing everything to carry the greatest weight of stones and still rise beyond range of the lyrinx, whose claws could destroy an airbag in seconds.
Further off, two thapters cruised in circles, guarding the air-dreadnoughts. They turned towards him. Five against one – odds even Malien would be hard pressed to even.
‘I’ll go directly behind that one,’ she shouted over the wind, pointing at the nearest air-dreadnought.
Nish raised a hand, not sure he understood her strategy, but she was looking forward, intent on her course. His eyes were already watering. He wished he’d thought to bring goggles.
The thapter shot sideways. Had someone fired on them? Nish couldn’t tell. Malien whipped around in a circle and behind the air-dreadnought hovering over the tower. It dropped three rocks, one after another, as he fired his javelard at the rotors. He only had to hit one to disable the craft and felt sure he would, having done it before. Unfortunately the air-dreadnought rose suddenly as the weight was released, and his spear passed harmlessly below its keel.
Nish cursed and wound his cranks furiously. It took so long to reload. His eyes followed the rocks towards the tower. They seemed to be heading directly for it. He held his breath. One puff of dust rose beside the tower, and two more down the slope of the peak. Hitting the target must be harder than it looked.
The air-dreadnought moved off, though it was as slow as a tortoise compared to the thapter in Malien’s nimble hands. Nish took careful aim at the port rotor and pulled the lever. At this distance he couldn’t miss, and didn’t. The rotor shattered to splinters, some of which flew into the starboard rotor, destroying it as well. The pilot pulled the floater-gas release rope and the air-dreadnought dropped sharply away to the south.
Malien shot away, carving a wavy trail across the sky to avoid one of the thapters. Judging by the reckless skill with which it was being flown, Chissmoul was at the controller.
Nish felt a surge of pride at the prowess of his young pupil, until he realised that she was now an enemy trying to bring him down. He mechanically loaded another spear as he searched the sky.
The other air-dreadnoughts were hovering some distance away, waiting to see what happened. The thapters approached, one on either side, and Kattiloe was the other pilot. Nish had chosen them both, supervised their training and helped them through dozens of crises. He liked Kattiloe and Chissmoul. Moreover, for the past hundred and fifty years, women of childbearing age had been protected at all costs, for the survival of humanity. In a battle with another thapter, there was little to do but attack the pilot, but Nish wasn’t sure he could fire his javelard at a woman. Shooting Chissmoul or Kattiloe was unthinkable. He wondered if they felt the same. Probably not – men weren’t precious, especially not traitors like him. They would follow Orgestre’s orders and do their duty.
The thapter lurched, tilted sideways, dropped sharply then stopped in mid-air as if it had landed on a mattress.
‘What the blazes is that?’ Malien yelled.
Had something gone wrong with the field? Were they going to fall to their doom as the lyrinx had earlier? Bile froze in his throat. Malien was looking out to the left. He followed her out-flung arm.
A dark mass like a whirling funnel, or a tornado, had just slipped over the horizon. The funnel was black at the bottom, paling upwards to grey with flecks of yellow, and it was moving steadily across the bed of the sea in their direction.
‘It’s the Well, grown monstrously large,’ he said. ‘It looks as if it’s coming out of the ground, growing above it as well as below.’
Malien could not have heard him over the wind. ‘It’s the Well,’ she called.
‘What’s it going to do?’
‘I don’t want to know.’
In the tower, an hour or two had gone by but Tiaan still hadn’t worked out how to open the box. The sapphire rod was useless. It may well have been a key but there was no lock to put it in. Frustrated, she banged the box with her fist.
‘Perhaps it’s not meant to be opened,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘Can you use it without doing so?’
‘I can’t tell. I don’t understand anything, Gilhaelith. If this is the port-all, it’s completely different to the one I used at Tirthrax. That one filled a room and had hundreds of parts, but there doesn’t seem to be anything to this one. The box weighs nothing. It’s as if it’s empty.’
‘Keep trying,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘Irisis, what’s going on outside?’
Irisis tucked her spyglass under her arm. ‘I can see the end of the lyrinx column.’
‘That’s something. Go down and find out how close the leaders are, before it gets dark.’ Gilhaelith turned to Tiaan. ‘What if you were to touch the sapphire to the box?’
‘I’ve already tried.’ Tiaan showed him what she had done, touching the smooth stone to the faces, the edges and the corners. Nothing happened. The box was so perfectly built that there was not a seam visible. It looked as if it had been made in one piece.
Gilhaelith wandered over to the window and cried, ‘Oh, it’s beautiful; just beautiful.’
Tiaan put the sapphire down on the box and ran across.
‘It’s the Well,’ said Gilhaelith. ‘It’s coming right at us, like a geomancer’s dream.’
‘You don’t have the kind of dreams I do,’ Tiaan muttered. ‘Vithis said that all Santhenar would rue the day. Do you think he’s sent it at us?’
‘Not after he’s dead.’
‘It’s a bit of a coincidence that it’s coming straight for us, then.’
‘The node might be attracting it.’
‘What will the node do to it?’
‘Who knows? Make it stronger, probably.’
‘And if the Well meets the gate?’
He looked at her, opened his mouth, closed it again.
‘Gilhaelith?’
‘I wouldn’t like to imagine the consequences.’
‘Keep an eye on it.’ Tiaan didn’t know why she’d said that. Nothing could influence the path of the Well now. If it came, it came. Was it possible Vithis had set it to consume everything on Santhenar?
She raced back to the box, to discover that it had opened like a black flower, the front face drawing seamlessly inside. How had that happened? All she’d done was lay the sapphire down on top.
She looked in, but it was so black that she couldn’t see the sides. Tiaan rotated the box towards the light and her head spun, just like the time at Snizort when she’d looked into the tesseract and the incomprehensible fourth dimension had exploded all around her. Was this box another tesseract – a cube in four dimensions?
Taking the amplimet in hand, she tried to create a mental map of the inside. It should have been as simple as imagining the walls of a black cube, but it wasn’t. The walls kept shifting when she concentrated on them.
‘Just one at a time,’ said Gilhaelith, putting a hand on her hand.
Did he have any idea what she was trying to do? Tiaan supposed that he must. She fixed the left wall in her mind and attempted to attach the others to it, which was easier, though the walls still seemed to move around.
‘Now what?’ she said, looking up to him for advice.
‘Perhaps it’s all in the mind,’ he said absently. ‘I’m going below.’
‘Whose mind? Vithis’s? Yours? Mine?’
He was gone. Tiaan imagined passing through the rear wall of the cube and found herself in another space exactly like the original one: a cube attached to a cube, though she could not visualise how it connected to the first. She fitted it to her mental map anyhow and went through the right-side wall to another cube, which led back to the first. She recognised it because one wall was open and she could see her face staring in. The thought made Tiaan so dizzy that she fell off her chair.
Had Vithis been lying when he gave Malien the key? She didn’t think so, but how could she tell? He’d deceived and manipulated her from the beginning.
Maybe the gate was all in the mind, and the way would only become clear if she could imagine the unimaginable – the hypercube the way it really existed.
Tiaan recreated her mental image, passing through the black walls into cubes which only led to more cubes, and more that lay back to back with each other or with the first, the one that lay open in the upper room in Nithmak. She looked out but this time did not see the room at all. Tiaan saw only stars and constellations entirely foreign to her. She tried to go further but could not get through.
She backtracked and went at what she thought was the opening again, but this time looked out on nothing but green: a dense, verdant, dripping forest. She couldn’t reach it either.
Tiaan retreated, knowing she was getting further away from what she was looking for. She dismissed the images from her mind, whereupon the hypercube flashed into view of its own volition. It only lasted a second but that was enough. It was there! She had seen it, perfect and complete.
Tiaan tried not to dwell on it, for the four-dimensional image was impossible to think about logically and she might lose it. And yet, her visual mind had done it, and now she saw a box that she had never seen before. Its walls were thinner than the others and Tiaan could make out shapes and lights through them.
She went closer. One wall showed a double sun and a field of stars sprinkled across black silk. Another, a roiling miasma like the solidification, in jelly, of a multicoloured field. A third was a pattern of dots, extending regularly in all directions. A fourth she could not make out at all until she went up close, when she realised that it was a fanged, horned and whip-carrying monster the like of which must strike terror into even the fierce heart of a lyrinx. Was she looking into the void? The fifth was equally obscure, until it resolved into an eye staring back at her. Tiaan jumped and the eye disappeared. It was her own. The sixth wall led back to the box she had just come from.
She withdrew, knowing that a long time had passed. It had grown dark while she’d been working and the moon was shining in through the glass. The tesseract was empty. She’d been looking for a device like the port-all she’d assembled at Tirthrax, but there wasn’t one. And yet, there had been that aura.
What if the box itself was the device? It hardly seemed possible; how could an empty box open a gate? But on the other hand, there could be anything in compartments which were there one time she looked and not the next.
Could the port-all be all in the mind, something she must also visualise? Perhaps that was the answer. It wasn’t hard to recall her earlier port-all to view, for she’d often done so, trying to analyse why it had gone so wrong at Tirthrax. In her spare moments she’d tinkered with her mental image of the device, using her new-found geomantic knowledge to make it perfect.
She recovered the image of that port-all, mentally dusted it off and placed it in the tesseract. Nothing happened, of course, for the
re was nothing to power it.
Tiaan inserted her best image of the amplimet in the centre, just as she had placed the real amplimet into the port-all in Tirthrax that fateful day nearly two years ago. There was no resistance this time, which made her feel that she was on the right path. Or so far off that …
No, don’t think negative thoughts. It seemed as though the port-all ought to be ready. She began to operate it as she had the original. A whip crack shook the building and cries rang out from below.
Tiaan ran to the glass. Lyrinx were running everywhere, though she could not tell from what, or to what. Not the gate, at least, for Tiaan had not set any destination.
Nor could she. She had no idea where Tallallame might be, or how to look for it. That was Malien’s job but Malien had gone in the thapter many hours ago, and might not come back. So what was going on down below?
She hurried down the stairs. It took precious minutes and left her knees weak. In the open area at the bottom she walked into an opaque sphere filling most of the space between the bottom step and the wrecked doors. Was it the port-all? She edged around the side of the sphere and looked out. There were lyrinx everywhere and not all of them had wings. The fleetest of the runners had made it in under two days.
‘Ryll?’ she called hopefully. He might not have survived. And if he had survived, he could still be leagues away.
Her call was taken up in deeper, raspier lyrinx tones. Ryll, Ryll, Ryll…
The crowd parted and he pushed through, his heavy jaw set, eyes staring. ‘Is this the gate?’ His hand motion was dismissive.
‘Yes, but I don’t know how to find Tallallame.’
‘Then why did you call us here? The water rises towards the base of the peak. We’re clinging to it like moths, Tiaan, and there’s no room left.’ His great chest rose and fell like a bellows, his skin flickered with barely suppressed panic colours. ‘In half a day – no, sooner – we’ll be lost. Rather would we have died of thirst in the Dry Sea than be drowned in the Sea of Perion.’
