by Ian Irvine
But Minis had said they were all gone. He must just be smelling the scent left behind, or from the hole they’d come out of. He waited another minute but heard and smelt nothing more.
Tirior would be getting impatient. Nish had one foot in the air when something thumped onto one of the higher boulders further around the hill. It was definitely a lyrinx – he heard the squeal of its claws against the rock.
Another joined it, followed by three more thumps. Nish did not dare to breathe. Even the most cursory search must find him. There was a mutter in the lyrinx tongue and the unmistakable flap of leather wings unfolding. Thup-thup, thup-thup. A lyrinx passed across the sky, and another beside it. They were carrying something between them, suspended in a net. It looked like a long box.
They disappeared into the dark. After a moment’s silence the others moved out, one by one. All wore bulky packs. They looked around, then headed down the hill, going west.
Nish counted to five hundred, and even then felt anxious. He had no way to tell if more were coming but the risk had to be taken. He went up among the boulders, unfolded the net carefully and crept toward the sentinel. It looked very rock-like. He studied it closely. It was a rock – he was looking at the wrong one.
He found the sentinel. Holding out the net, he tiptoed towards it, whipped the net over and pressed it down. The sentinel did not move, of course. It was not alive, strictly speaking.
Taking the other object from his pocket, he crushed it in his fingers. A nauseating stench wisped out, like the rottenest of rotten eggs, and something slimy clung to his fingers. Nish thrust the mess under the net and held it down. He wiped his fingers repeatedly but could not get rid of the smell.
What now? Tirior was supposed to signal. He climbed onto a rock, looking in the direction of the hidden construct. Nothing. He got down again. The sentinel seemed to be collapsing. Nish was watching it, wondering what to do, when he was seized by the arm. He struggled desperately to get free.
‘It’s me, Minis,’ Minis hissed. ‘Why are you waiting here? Come on.’
‘I thought you said they were all gone,’ Nish grumbled as they went back to the construct.
‘I thought they were. Hurry up.’
The construct moved forward until it was between the boulders. Tirior handed Nish what appeared to be a wire helmet. ‘Put this on.’
‘What is it?’
‘Something to stop your little brain melting.’
‘I –’ He could never tell if she was serious. He put it on.
‘Come on,’ said Minis.
Nish climbed out after him. ‘What are we supposed to be doing?’
‘Don’t talk! Grab the other side and lift.’
Nish took hold of what looked like solid rock and heaved. It was not rock either and tilted back to reveal a dark cavity.
‘Hold it open.’
The little construct, slightly more visible than before, edged forward. Minis thrust his funnel inside the entrance and signalled to Tirior. She stood up, held something elongated to her shoulder and pointed it down the hole. An amber glow spiralled around its length and shot underground. Minis checked again with the funnel. He waved. The construct tilted over the edge and slid down. They followed.
A breeze drifted past, carrying the scent of crushed leaves. The false rock came down over Nish’s head, shutting out the light. All was black for an instant, then a light-glass came on at the front of the construct. They clambered inside and the construct moved down the narrow tunnel at walking pace. Shortly they encountered the bodies of two lyrinx by a sentry post.
‘If you can kill them so easily,’ said Nish, ‘why don’t you use these weapons in the war?’
‘It was not easy,’ said a blanched Tirior. ‘I will suffer for days, and no one else can use it at all.’
‘How did you find this tunnel?’ Nish asked.
‘Not by flapping my mouth at every opportunity. Minis, go to the firing position.’
Minis jacked up the rear turret, where a pair of devices used compressed springs to fire various kinds of projectiles. He armed both weapons.
‘Nish, put your ear to the funnel. Call if you hear anything.’
Nish heard an amplified whine, a ticker-tick-tick, but no thumping footsteps. The tunnel wound around as if following weaknesses in the rock, then ran flat and straight for a few minutes before diving steeply and coiling around several times. At this lower level, water was seeping through the roof, making puddles on the floor.
They slid around a corner of yellow rock. Ahead was a second guard post with two lyrinx by it. They had not heard or seen the construct. In the funnel Nish heard pfft. The lyrinx in the middle of the tunnel fell, transfixed through the heart. The other hurled himself for the guard post but a spear went through his back, dropping him short. Minis was out of his turret before Nish could blink and killed the struggling creature with a sword blow to the neck.
‘Good work,’ said Tirior, even paler. ‘I don’t think it got off a warning. Did you hear anything, Nish?’
‘No,’ he said, though he’d lifted his ear from the funnel at the first shot.
They continued. The tunnel now ran straight and level. Tirior checked a lodestone. ‘We’re going in the right direction, at least.’
After half an hour of low-speed movement Nish caught a whiff of bitumen. The tunnel plunged again, levelled out and the walls suddenly became black. The sandstone here was impregnated with tar.
‘How do they stand it?’ said Nish. The smell was unpleasantly strong.
‘I don’t know. Few creatures could survive in such a place.’
‘I wonder what brought them here?’
‘Perhaps a special kind of node,’ said Minis.
‘How are you going to find the node-drainer?’
‘I don’t think that will be difficult,’ Tirior said dryly.
They passed back into clean sandstone, though not for long. The layers of yellow stone became black-streaked, then banded with tar, and finally completely black. Ebony droplets beaded the walls. From here on they had to go more slowly, for the walls narrowed and sometimes curved in at the sides, as if they were oozing in.
‘It’s a wonder we haven’t run into more of the enemy,’ said Nish.
‘Everyone who can fight would be outside, and the others have probably evacuated.’
They crept around a corner. ‘It can’t be far now.’ Tirior studied the lines dancing on the grey plate behind her controller. ‘I –’
The construct stopped suddenly. Tirior jiggled her controller. Nothing happened. ‘What’s going on? I can’t see any field at all. Minis, can you feel anything?’
‘No, but we’re getting closer. I can almost see the place in my mind’s eye, as I saw it in my foretelling.’
‘The scrutator must have blocked the node-drainer,’ said Nish.
She shook her head. ‘That would not affect us. Constructs don’t use the weak field. That’s why Flydd was so desperate for our support. There’s something –’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know, that’s the problem. It’s … a strangeness, and I don’t like it.’ The whine resumed. ‘It’s back.’
‘But for how long?’
Tirior drove the construct through the winding tunnels as fast as was humanly possible. Skidding around a corner, she found a sharp, bulging bend straight ahead. Somehow she got through with no more than a scrape against the sides. They slid around another bend into a cavern that opened out around them. Tirior stopped.
‘What is that?’ said Nish.
The cavern was full of black mist. It took a long time to make out what she was pointing at. It seemed to be a tar fountain in the middle of the floor, a low, bubbling efflorescence about knee high.
‘We can go round it,’ Nish said.
‘There shouldn’t be anything like this here,’ said Tirior with a worried frown. She consulted the green glass. ‘The tar seeps should be a long way away.’
‘Maybe they’ve
oozed this way.’
‘Not that quickly.’ She edged the construct forward. ‘See the footprints. They appear to go right through it. This fountain has only just arisen.’
They went around it, but across the far side were struck by floating globules of tar that rolled down the outside of the transparent panel, leaving black trails.
‘I didn’t know tar floated in air,’ Nish said.
‘It doesn’t!’ Tirior muttered, grim-faced.
‘What’s going on?’
‘We’ve entered the strangeness of the node-drainer. The power it’s taking from the field has to end up somewhere, and where it does, reality is … suspended.’
‘We’d better hurry,’ said Nish.
‘We’ll be too late!’ Minis cried. ‘Quickly, Tirior.’
‘I don’t dare go any faster.’
‘You’re going slower all the time!’
‘The field we use is weak here.’
‘Shouldn’t it be getting stronger as we approach the node?’ said Nish.
‘Constructs don’t use node fields. They draw on local stress-fields which are stronger on Aachan but, unfortunately, weaker here. I’m drawing all the power I can but it’s barely enough to keep us moving.’
Minis was frantic. ‘Something’s gone wrong, hasn’t it, Tirior?’
‘Terribly. The stress-field is fading by the minute.’
‘Perhaps the node-drainer is draining all the fields,’ said Nish.
‘I don’t see how it could!’ she said through clenched teeth. Tirior jerked the controller. The construct lurched forward, stopped, lurched again, and then the whine cut off and it fell, the base smacking against the floor.
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ said Tirior, picking herself up. ‘We didn’t crash, we splatted.’
She threw back the hatch and they climbed onto the edge. The air stank of tar. Nish jumped down.
‘No!’ Tirior yelled.
Too late. His feet went right through the floor. ‘Aah.’ He sank to his knees in black, oozing tar.
Cursing him, Tirior reached down. Nish took her hand. She tried to pull him out. He did not budge.
‘Give me a hand,’ she shouted at Minis, who had his hands over his face and was rocking on the rim. ‘Minis, now!’
Catching Nish under the arms, Minis strained, and slowly Nish’s feet emerged from the tar.
‘You bloody fool!’ Tirior handed him her knife. ‘Scrape it off. Remove your boots and trousers before you come inside.’
Nish set to work. Tirior went down the hatch and soon that familiar whine returned. ‘The field’s back,’ she said over the edge. ‘At least, part of it. Let’s see if we can get ourselves out.’
The whine rose in pitch, until the construct shuddered and pulled free. They continued through the strangeness, which was stranger than ever. The walls oozed and bulged. Layers of soft tar flowed down them, and across, and sometimes up. Clots of tar drifted in the air; hot tar dripped onto the closed hatch.
‘How close are we?’ Nish yelled.
‘There’s no need to shout,’ she said. ‘Another few minutes and we should be there.’
‘To Tiaan?’ said Nish.
‘No, to the node-drainer.’
Minis spun around. ‘But, Tirior …’
‘We’ve got to stop the scrutator first, Minis.’
‘It seems awfully hot in here,’ said Nish, mopping his brow. ‘It wasn’t hot before.’
Something burst through the wall in a spray of sparks. The tunnel vibrated visibly, then the side wall pushed in until it reached the construct. Further ahead, the walls were almost together.
‘We can’t get through,’ said Nish. ‘We’re going to be –’
A shockwave passed through them. Up ahead the tunnel touched, then peeled apart with a grotesque squelch. The whine disappeared; again the construct splatted to the floor. This time Tirior could not get it up.
‘We’re stuck,’ she said. ‘The field is gone.’
They stared at one another. Nish could feel his claustrophobia, never far away when underground, rising like a skyrocket. ‘Got to get out,’ he gasped.
‘We’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot, if the floor is solid enough.’
‘But without the construct we’re –’
‘I know!’ she snapped, ‘but we can’t carry it.’
‘Was that the node-drainer going?’ Nish whispered.
She laughed scornfully.
‘Then there may still be time.’ He put his leg over the side, searching for a patch of floor solid enough to stand on.
Tirior dragged him back. ‘Look out!’
A great bulge had developed in the roof, like a wagonload of molasses hanging above him. He threw himself backwards. Tirior slammed the hatch and tightened the clamps. There was an interminable wait before the bulge came down with an oozing splat. It surged across the clear screen; then, with a thump, the rest followed, the level of tar rising until it covered the screen completely.
‘We’re buried,’ said Nish. ‘We’ll never get out.’
SIXTY-TWO
‘Where is the watcher?’ whispered Flydd urgently. ‘Around corner,’ grunted Ullii.
‘I told you so,’ Irisis muttered. ‘What are you going to do now, scrutator?’
‘Pipe down. Ullii, come here. You’re my eyes and ears into this device.’
He squatted on the floor, knees popping like little fireworks. Ullii crouched beside him, whispering. She seemed quite cooperative now, but Ullii usually was when she was in danger.
Flydd rose, rubbing his knees. ‘The watcher, or sentinel, is a kind of growth. If I attack, it will give an alarm.’
‘Can you conceal us from it?’ said Irisis.
‘No. It picks up the aura of the Art, and we all bear enough of that to set it off.’
‘Then we’ve failed before we begin.’
‘There are ways, crafter. I’m just running though a dozen or two. You might as well sit down.’
Looking at the tarry floor with distaste, Irisis leaned against the cleanest wall she could find. Time ticked by, and every moment of delay meant more bloodshed outside. She began to pace up and down. Ullii gestured at her to stop – the watcher might detect it. Irisis returned to her post. Her organs vibrated in her belly and the way the flesh shivered beneath her skin was uncanny. How long would it take before the unreality of the node-drainer pulled her apart?
Flydd’s eyes were closed but his lips moved as he ran through all the forms and adaptations of scrutator magic, searching for the right one.
‘The spell must disable it instantly, before it can send an alarm.’ He sought more precise directions from Ullii. ‘I think I have it.’ He held out his hands and uttered words in a language Irisis did not know.
‘No,’ said Ullii, after a long pause.
‘Are you sure?… Of course you are. Damn it!’ he yelped, holding his head.
‘What is it?’ said Irisis.
‘That hurt. I used a spell to freeze it into place. That’s a reliable way of attack, as a rule, but the spell hasn’t taken.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know. It’s as if a similar spell was already at work nearby, but that makes no sense at all. Let me get my strength back and I’ll try another.’
Recovering from the spell took so long that Irisis thought it was not going to happen at all. Flydd looked like a man having his leg amputated with a broken bottle. Drops of sweat stood out on his forehead, though in the gloom they had a ruddy look like blood.
‘Aargh!’ he gasped, spitting gobs on the floor. ‘I think I can manage it now.’
He moved his hands and spoke his words of power. They waited, then a crack-crack-SNAP came from around the corner.
‘It’s gone,’ said the seeker.
Now there were drops of blood on the scrutator’s forehead. ‘Just as well,’ he gasped. ‘I could not have done that again.’
They went by a mushroom-shaped device that h
ad split down the middle, unable to withstand his evocation that had instantly turned it to stone.
‘Anything else, Ullii? he said hoarsely.
‘No,’ she whispered back. ‘But I see many lyrinx.’
‘Coming after us?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Take us to the node-drainer.’
They turned the corner, passed down a wide tunnel and entered a grotto like the inside of a stubby cross. All was black. The walls were studded with ebony crystals, the roof hung with bituminous stalactites. The floor was strewn with lipped pools, each perfectly circular, that seethed and bubbled like boiling mud ponds.
Flydd stared in wonderment. ‘This is it, Irisis.’
In the luminosity of the node-drainer the cavern was eerily beautiful. The walls sparkled like black diamonds, the roof glowed like black pearls, the pools emitted ebony bubbles that drifted around the room, reflecting the light like mirror balls. The node-drainer was, from the vision back at Minnien, just as Irisis expected it to be. It resembled a broad leathery mushroom, white as death, with a circular cap rising to a peak. A hole in the centre, above the stalk, gushed forth energies that flowed and tumbled and shone.
‘It’s not quite what I expected,’ Flydd muttered. ‘It’s taking power from the node all right, and staggering amounts of it, but channelling most of it away. Where to?’
A hanging funnel made of the same leathery substances collected most of the flow. Irisis could not see where it led to. The leaking field created a foggy unreality at the back of the cavern that blurred everything into the walls.
‘I expect they’re using it for flesh-forming, and other Arts.’
‘No doubt, and if Snizort should survive, we’ll have to follow that up.’
Ullii gasped, doubled over and projectile vomited through her legs. Curling into a ball, she rolled forward until she struck the wall, toppled over and lay unmoving. Her eyes were wide open, her arms wrapped protectingly around her belly.
‘Myllii?’ she whispered. ‘Help me, Myllii.’
‘Ullii?’ whispered Irisis. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Node-drainer is wrong. Wrong!’
