by Ian Irvine
‘Take out … bolt!’
She put her fingers around the bloody bolt and pulled. She could not get a grip.
‘It’s buried too deep,’ she said, repulsed by the gory wound.
‘Use … spear.’
Her tentative efforts to lever out the bolt only made a bigger mess. The operation was horrible, not to mention the lyrinx’s stifled groans. It must be in agony. She wished it would die, though maybe not even that would relax the manacle around her ankle.
‘Keep trying!’ It choked on blood. ‘If I die – you too.’
She believed it. ‘I have a tool in my pack that might help.’
‘Show me.’ It did not let go of her ankle.
She had to take everything out to get at her toolkit. Inside the folded canvas was a pair of pincers.
‘Yes,’ said the lyrinx. ‘Use!’
Tiaan probed into the wound, gripped the base of the bolt and gave a mighty heave. It did not budge.
Taking a firmer grip, she put her boot on the back of the creature’s massive neck and pulled with all her strength. The lyrinx screamed. Waves of colour pulsed from one end of its body to the other. It tossed its head, Tiaan kept pulling, and slowly the length of steel slid free. Purple blood pulsed from the hole, replaced by a clear fluid that congealed like the skin on boiled milk. The bleeding stopped.
She dropped the bolt and bloody pincers on the floor. The lyrinx convulsed from crest to claw, gave a retching heave that deposited a bucketful of bloody, foaming mucus on the floor, then rolled over to face Tiaan. What had she done? She had helped the enemy and now it would eat her anyway.
It opened its eyes. They stared at each other. It would be six, eight, maybe ten times her weight, and all muscle, bone and armour. Even with one injured hand it could tear her in half.
‘Well, are you going to eat me, or what?’ Her voice squeaked.
‘What is your name?’ The sound, formed deep in its throat, had a raspy, reverberating echo that was clearer than before, though it seemed to have difficulty shaping the words. Was it the injury, or the strange sounds in her language?
‘I am called Tiaan Liise-Mar.’
‘My name is … Ryll. What is your work?’
‘I have none.’
‘Everyone works, small human. You carry mechanic’s tools.’
‘I was an artisan.’
‘Artisan? Of controllers?’ It made a purring sound in its throat.
Why had she mentioned that? Alarmed, she tried to distract the creature. ‘To my people I am good for nothing but breeding!’
Ryll looked uncomprehending. He gagged, swallowed and spoke more clearly. ‘My mother has bred four little ones. She still takes her place in the battle line.’
‘Some of our people say females should breed, and only men work and fight.’ It felt wrong to be admitting it to this monster.
‘No wonder we defeat you so easily,’ said the lyrinx. ‘You waste the talents of half your people. Your species is flawed.’ His voice grew stronger, more confident, and Tiaan realised that he spoke her language rather well. Moreover, his accent was similar to her own. She wondered who had taught him.
‘Females are too precious to risk. If we lose too many, our entire species is at risk. We must breed to survive.’ Tiaan found herself mouthing arguments used to justify the breeding factory, arguments that even at the time had outraged her.
‘As must we, human. What if we struck at your homes, where your defenceless women live with their offspring? Better they be armed and trained to defend their children. Better still, we will feed on you all. We are fittest.’
‘You’re nothing but barbarians!’
‘How so?’ Ryll said mildly.
‘You eat us!’
‘And you don’t eat other animals?’ said the lyrinx. Surely it was just pretending astonishment.
‘They’re just animals. We’re intelligent. We’re human!’
He gave a sniff. ‘You smell like an animal to me, little Tiaan. That you are sentient does not make you better than other animals, or more worthy. Why should I not eat you, if I be hungry? Why should you not eat me?’
She shuddered at the thought. ‘I couldn’t! It would not be right. Besides …’
‘Yes?’
‘You would probably taste disgusting.’
‘How did your unworthy kind come to dominate this world?’ said the lyrinx. ‘There are a hundred sentient creatures in the void, little Tiaan. We all ate each other as the need arose.’
‘Are you going to eat me?’ Her voice rose to the very edge of a shriek.
‘No!’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m not hungry. Besides …’
The unfinished sentence hung in the air between them. Was it a threat of worse? Torture, to extract secrets vital to the war? Or … She’d heard horrible stories of what the other side did to prisoners. ‘What?’ she snapped. ‘How will you use me?’
The lyrinx drew itself up and its rubber lip curled into what she interpreted as a sneer. Tiaan had to remind herself that this creature’s facial gestures would probably have entirely different meanings.
‘I cannot understand your kind. Why do you insult me?’
‘Why do you make war on us?’ said Tiaan.
‘Because you have attacked us from the moment we came out of the void.’
‘You started it!’
‘We would say that you began it.’
‘But it’s our world. You’re trying to take it from us.’
‘You’ve turned Santhenar into a sewer. A ruined world. And it’s not yours anyway.’
‘It’s our right …’
‘How so?’ said the lyrinx. ‘Who gave such a right to humankind?’
‘We are the top –’
‘In our philosophy no species can confer rights on themselves. The very concept is derisory. How dare you put yourselves above other creatures! Humanity destroys for the sake of destruction. Your kind deserves to be eaten.’
‘Why must we fight and die?’ said Tiaan. ‘Why can’t we live together?’
‘That is not nature’s way.’
Ryll licked his lips. Was he licking his chops? Had the conversation made him hungry? Tiaan moved back a pace.
He gave a gurgling chuckle. ‘If I was going to eat you, nothing could save you.’
‘Why aren’t you?’
‘You saved my life. A debt of honour.’
Tiaan almost made a sneering reference to lyrinx honour but thought better of it. What did she know about them, apart from the propaganda that came up the mountain?
‘You forced me,’ she said weakly. ‘I was going to kill you.’
‘But you did not, and thus I owe you.’
It was all too much. She could hardly stand up for hunger. She tried, her head spun, and Tiaan collapsed.
When she roused, the creature was looming over her. ‘Are you injured?’
‘I’m starving. I haven’t eaten for days.’
‘I often go a week without eating,’ said Ryll. His knee wobbled and he sat down hurriedly. ‘But then, I might consume a whole antelope, or a small …’ He broke off. ‘Your tiny belly would only hold one mouthful.’ He gripped her thigh, the fingers curling all the way round. ‘There’s nothing of you. Eat! I won’t harm you.’
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, taking out one of the ration packets with many an uncomfortable glance at the creature that, even sitting, was taller than she. He was holding out his injured hand, staring at it. Previously, pieces of ragged bone had protruded from the severed ends of his fingers. No bone was visible now. The stumps were covered with smooth skin, pinkish grey.
‘What are you doing?’ she said.
‘Regenerating my hand.’
‘How?’
‘It’s just something we can do – there are animals of your world with the same ability.’
Ryll was concentrating so hard that droplets of perspiration appeared on his brow.
‘Is that a
form of mancing?’ she wondered.
‘I dare say. Without it, we would never have survived in the void.’
No further changes were evident. Regeneration must be a slow process, and an exhausting one, for Ryll went limp, his colours fading to pastel greens and blues. He could barely hold himself up now. She might escape after all, if she was quick. She’d better be, before the other lyrinx came back.
‘You are different to the humans we meet – soldiers and armed men,’ said Ryll. ‘We can learn a lot about humankind from people like you.’
Tiaan methodically chewed her way through the ration packet, rice pasta layered with vegetables cooked to a thick paste. Was talking to this lyrinx treason? Saving its life, even under duress, must be.
She rose, watching Ryll from the corner of her eye. He put out an arm as if to restrain her, but had to let it fall. Her chance had come. Careful now; don’t alarm him in case he’s saving his strength. She went across to check on Pelf and the other man. Both were dead. Tiaan closed their eyes. The dead flesh made her shudder. Ryll’s eyes followed her though he lay still, panting softly. Gathering her pack, she kept well out of reach.
‘Where are you going, little outcast?’
She glanced at the entrance to the long tunnel. ‘The other lyrinx went up there. I have to find another way.’
‘You are brave,’ said the lyrinx, ‘but I fear you will die just the same. There is a blizzard blowing outside. Or …’ Ryll tilted his head, giving her a cunning look.
‘What?’
‘You could come with me.’
‘No!’ She backed away. ‘I know what you want. I’m not going to be a little grub to feed your hatchlings.’ The thought nearly made her scream. She imagined herself lying helpless in a food chamber while its vicious young tore out her soft parts.
‘We give birth, just like you,’ said Ryll. ‘Do you know so little about us?’
She knew nothing but dreadful rumour and what she had seen with her eyes.
‘Besides, I owe you,’ he went on.
‘I do not wish to insult you again,’ she said carefully, ‘but how do I know you have honour?’
‘I could have killed and eaten you a dozen times.’ Ryll slammed his mighty fist down and his skin changed to the uniform grey it had worn into battle.
Tiaan backed away hurriedly. ‘Now you reveal your true colours.’ The pun was unintended, though it pleased her nonetheless.
Taking a crossbow and satchel of bolts from one of the dead archers, she fitted a bolt into the weapon. ‘I could kill you.’
His skin faded to a sludgy green. Ryll slid sideways, his cheek striking the floor. ‘I do not doubt it, in my present state,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Are you going to?’
Had he attacked she would have shot him, but while he lay helpless, watching her, she could not. At the mouth of the middle tunnel she took out her crystal, which was glowing as before. Ryll’s eyes widened and Tiaan regretted her action. However, he did not move. He resembled a collapsed balloon, nothing like the flesh machines the lyrinx had been before the battle.
She hurried down the passage. After a few minutes’ walking she was brought up by a body lying on the rocky floor. The head lay some distance away, only recognisable by its white hair – the unfortunate Hants. The eye with the cast was staring at her.
Stepping around the corpse, she continued, shortly coming to a dead end. The tunnel stopped at a smooth rock surface. The light revealed a lever down low. As she pulled it, the door rotated, letting in a blast of freezing air. The sky was gloomy grey, the same colour as the landscape. It looked ominous.
The wind went right through her. The cold was the worst she had ever felt. An icicle began to form on her upper lip. Tiaan ducked inside to put on the mountain gear that had belonged to Joeyn’s wife. The gift warmed her and she spent a minute, head bowed, thinking of her dead friend. Opening the door again, she peered out. It was a blizzard and only the lyrinx could have made her go out into it.
The door opened onto a narrow ledge on a steep mountainside. To her left a spindly tree was just visible through whirling snow, maybe a hundred paces away. To her right the ledge disappeared into white. The manufactory should be on the other side of the mountain, though in this weather she could not be sure of anything. On the other hand, she dared not go back inside. She mentally tossed a coin. Left looked marginally more attractive than right. She went left and began to trudge up the ledge.
Beyond the tree she came onto an exposed slope where the wind was like needles of black ice. Tiaan looked down and could see nothing. Up was the same. Gritty snow blew horizontally. Forward and back, she now lost the path within a dozen paces. It could have been any hour of the day. Which way should she go? She had no idea. Her steps grew reluctant.
A wild gust thumped her against the cliff. It might just as easily have carried her over the edge. The weather was deteriorating rapidly. She moved on and knew that she was failing. If I keep going, Tiaan thought, I’m going to die.
She headed back. Better the risk of the lyrinx than certain death by freezing. It might hold to its word. Might be a creature of honour. The cold and wind was indifferent. It would kill her and scream defiance over her body.
Head down, Tiaan plodded into the wind. Snow clotted in her eyes, making it impossible to see. It seemed much further, going back. Surely she’d walked a thousand paces and still there was no sign of the place. Plod, plod, one foot after another. Trudge, trudge, ice crystals growing on her eyebrows, her ears going numb. Every step took an effort of will.
At last she saw the tree. The door could be no more than a hundred steps away. She counted each step to make sure. The weather had closed in, but even so, by the time she had reached ninety Tiaan expected to see the door. It should be a black hole in the grey mountainside. She went down a slope. One hundred, one hundred and one … Had she left the door open, or closed? If it was closed she would never find it. Ajar, Tiaan thought, but it was difficult to remember. Her brain felt like a frozen sponge.
One hundred and twenty-one, one hundred and twenty-two. She must have gone past it. She scanned the rock face but everything was crusted with ice. Could it have been two hundred paces? Tiaan could no longer remember. Maybe it had been. She kept going, but when she reached three hundred, she knew she had gone way too far.
Turning back, she soon found herself descending a precipitous slope she definitely had not climbed before. Again she turned but the path was icy and she’d only gone a few steps before her feet went from under her. She went flying through the air and buried herself in a drift.
Struggling out, Tiaan plunged neck-deep into another snow-filled hollow. She feebly scratched her way onto a ledge and foundered. An overhang blocked the way up. The snow was now falling as heavily as she had ever known it. It was a mighty blizzard and she would be lucky to survive.
Exhausted, Tiaan put her head down on the pack for a minute. The hedron dug into her cheek. She picked it out. It had a faint warmth. Holding it in her hands, she laid her head on the pack and closed her eyes.
TWENTY-FIVE
In the days Tiaan had spent in the mine, a deep, subpolar low had formed four hundred leagues south in the Kara Agel (the Frozen Sea) which lay between the boomerang-shaped Island of Noom and the steppes of N’roxi. It roared north across the Kara Ghâshâd (the Burning Sea), funnelled through the gap between the Smennbone Range and the Inchit Hills, passed directly across Ha-Drow on the Kaer Slass or Black Sea, burying the city of Drow under two spans of snow, then, still gathering strength, screamed across the inland sea of Tallallamel heading north. After dumping more snow on Lake Kalissi, a meteor crater with a curious spire island in the middle, it hurled itself against the ramparts of the Great Mountains in Tarralladell.
The mountains pushed the storm east where it found a gap in the chain, climbed the pass and began to empty its load on the branching ranges. Somewhere south of Tiksi the storm collided with a warm front moving up the coast from distant Crandor. The wildest
blizzard of the century was about to strike the eastern mountains.
The wind had risen steadily all day. Now it screamed around the side of the mountain, scouring loose snow up into clouds. Tiaan began to feel really frightened. Unless a miracle happened she was going to die here.
Tiaan was trained to survive in the mountains, but this place was going to get colder and colder until it froze her solid. A snow cave was her only chance but it was too late to look for a suitable place. The best she could do was try to close off the space under the overhang.
She dug her knife into the snow plastered on the rock face. The blade went all the way in. Carving the compacted snow into blocks, she stacked them to make a curving wall on the outer part of the ledge. It was hard work, but useful, for the face turned out to be concave. Though not quite a cave, it offered shelter above and on either side.
By the time Tiaan’s knife-point skated across rock, she had closed in two-thirds of her ledge. The visibility was falling; two steps from her shelter she could no longer see it. She stamped down the drift next to her wall, hacked it into blocks and continued raising the wall. Finally it met the ledge above, sealing her in. The space, about four strides long but only two across, looked like a white sepulchre.
It was getting dark. She warmed her hands in her armpits, for the crystal had gone as cold as the rest of her world and was hardly glowing at all. If only there was a way to draw power into it to warm herself. She tried to sense out the field but found nothing. Perhaps she was too far from the node, though that seemed unlikely.
Tiaan ate another ration pack, this one an unidentifiable melange of dried fruit, nuts and suet. It lay in her stomach like a brick. After rubbing her feet in a useless attempt to warm them, she wrapped the fur-lined coat around her and leaned back against the wall, trying to rest without going to sleep. She found herself dozing a couple of times, jerked awake then slipped into a restless sleep.
