Tetrarch (Well of Echoes) (67 page)

Read Tetrarch (Well of Echoes) Online

Authors: Ian Irvine

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy fiction - lcsh

Flexing them at the middle joints so as to reduce their length, she pushed gently. The walker tilted up, one knobbed foot slipped and the machine fell back, starting another slide.

Tiaan tried again and this time got the walker two-thirds upright, though her weight was near to toppling it. If she tried to go further the walker might fall all the way to the bottom of the crater. It would not survive that, and neither would she.

Extending the upslope legs until they were nearly parallel to the slope, she straightened the other pair. The walker edged towards the vertical. The rubble moved beneath one foot. Now the really difficult part. Ever so carefully she pushed with the downslope legs. The walker moved up a little, then stuck. It was like an animal trying to walk on its back legs. How was she to get up the slope? Straight up looked impossibly steep but, if she angled across, Tiaan thought she might just be able to do it.

She pushed off. The walker teetered and Tiaan was sure it was going to go over. She found a little more extension in the upslope legs. It was just enough. Creeping across the slope like a four-legged crab, she made it to the edge, though she had to go back and forth three times to get up the last bit.

On the rim, bigger challenges awaited her. She did not hold any false hope for Gilhaelith. Few people ever got out of the hands of the lyrinx. She was on her own. Had the thapter been finished she would have fled at once. Since it was not, she must pray for time to complete it.

Tiaan skidded across the terrace and in through the front door. ‘Nixx!’ she shouted. ‘Nixx, quickly.’

The seneschal appeared, quill in one hand, tally sheet in the other. ‘What is it? I’m very busy.’

‘Gilhaelith has been taken!’

‘What?’ he cried. ‘How?’

‘Four lyrinx flew down out of the fog and carried him away. They were so quick he had no chance.’

He dropped the quill. Black ink spattered the tiles. ‘When was this?’

‘An hour ago.’

‘An hour?’

She became aware of her wild hair and dirty face. ‘My walker went over the edge a long way from here. I called out but no one heard me. They rose straight up into the fog.’

‘Show me the place,’ he said grimly.

Tiaan led him to the spot and he examined it while she stood by. Reaction had set in and she was trembling.

‘Big lyrinx?’ Nixx said doubtfully.

‘As big as any I’ve seen.’

‘I don’t see any tracks. You say you fell?’ He sounded doubtful. Surely he did not think she had killed Gilhaelith?

‘Down there?’ She pointed.

Nixx studied her skid marks just as carefully. He did suspect her. Tiaan was insulted.

He roused out the household to search the rim in a line that extended down each side for about a hundred paces. Every mark and dislodged pebble was noted. It took most of the morning. They recovered Gilhaelith’s crystal rod, which did not seem to be damaged. Finally they came back to where Tiaan sat under the vines on the terrace.

‘It is as you say,’ Nixx said. ‘We found unmistakable footmarks. The lyrinx have taken him.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

Nixx sat at the table, staring at his tally sheet. His broad fingers were stained with ink. He seemed not to know what to do. The other servants stood by the door, equally bewildered and fearful. Tiaan could read their faces. Without Gilhaelith, they

had nothing. He had always been here – some families had served him for five generations. Now he was gone and Nyriandiol was unprotected.

The crystal rod lay on the table. It was an elongated prism, translucent and heavy, capped at one end with shiny steel, a basket of which enclosed the striated sides. An ironstone rosette was fixed on the open end. Gilhaelith’s teaching had barely touched on such devices, though she knew it could be a weapon in the right hands.

She slipped it into her pocket. ‘What are you going to do, Nixx?’

‘I can’t do anything!’ he wailed, still wringing his fleshy hands. ‘Four lyrinx might have carried him halfway across the continent.’

Tiaan was back on the terrace, numbly watching the fog wreathe through the vines, when she heard raised voices at the front door.

‘The master is lost,’ said someone she did not know. ‘We will never see him again. Let us take what we can carry and go.’

‘He may come back.’ Nixx’s voice rose above the others. ‘We must maintain Nyriandiol for his return –’

‘You old fool!’ spat Gurteys. ‘It’s finished. This place will be plundered within days. We’ve lost everything.’

‘We cannot betray our master.’

‘We can’t hold the place against lyrinx or anyone else. Come on!’ she yelled.

‘Don’t,’ he quavered. ‘Let me go. Aaah!’

Tiaan knew what was going to happen. Snatching her water bottle, she crabbed sideways toward the path, watching the front door. Shadows moved inside. She sought for a strong part of the field; as powerful as she could bear.

‘There she is.’ The squat woman, Alie, wielded a kitchen cleaver over her head.

‘Don’t kill her,’ shouted Gurteys. ‘She’s worth ten thousand gold ones. Knock the metal crab down and break it.’

She ran around the outside of the terrace and stood waiting for Tiaan, holding a wicked two-headed axe. Tiaan stopped. A host of servants were coming up behind, and Fley was running across to join his wife. There was no way past.

But Fley caught Gurteys by the arm, swinging her around.
Run
! he mimed, and as Gurteys swung the flat of the axe at his head, Tiaan slipped through. Fley went down and was trampled as a dozen women stampeded by, brandishing makeshift weapons.

Where were the guards? Perhaps they were already down below, looting. She hoped so, for her sake. Tiaan pulled power into the controller and fled into the fog, moving the four legs by instinct.

She looked back. Any competent archer could have shot her with a crossbow, but fortunately these were mere household servants. Or maybe those who wanted the reward had prevailed. A stick whirled through the air, just missing her. A rain of rocks followed, one whizzing over her shoulder, another striking her back brace so hard that it cracked. Pain jagged up her side.

Realising that she still had Gilhaelith’s crystal rod, Tiaan fumbled it out. Just how did one use it? She recalled the lesson about using crystals as weapons, though she’d not had the chance to practise with one. She pointed the crystal at the ground, depressing a strip of metal anchored at one end. A yellow ray burst from the open face of the ironstone rosette. She swung it at the feet of her pursuers. Rocks exploded, flinging gravel everywhere. The servants threw themselves out of the way.

Skilled at operating the walker now, Tiaan fleeted along at running speed until she ran into a wall of fog. She dared another glance over her shoulder. The mob was out of sight, yet she could hear it coming. If she went slowly they might not hear her. The small rubber feet made little noise.

They followed for an hour, after which she heard no more. Perhaps the tireless walker had outdistanced them, or they had given up. That hardly seemed likely: they had much to gain and nothing to lose. She kept going. Later the fog thinned enough for her to see back for half a league. The rim of the crater was empty. She saw no one on the sides, either. Tiaan supposed that they had gone back to wait her out. They knew she couldn’t get away.

The bare mountaintop was no place to spend the night. Big cats hunted up here, and other predators. Going carefully down the outer slope, she took refuge in one of the lava tubes that threaded the side of the mountain. From here she could see the rim. No one came after her. Her water bottle was empty and there was no water here. Below, the slope was too steep for the walker so she had no choice. Tiaan climbed back to the rim, clutching the rod. Nyriandiol was a dark shape against the horizon. Not a single light showed, which was strange.

She had to have water and the villa was the only place she could get any. It took hours, feeling her way forward in the dark, afraid she would go over the edge without realising it. Finally she was close enough to see the peaked roof. Still no lights. It had to be a trap.

Then she smelled the blood. Had the burst from her crystal killed someone? The stars gave too little light to see. She continued until one foot of the walker struck something yielding. It was the size and shape of a person.

‘Hello?’ she whispered.

No reply.

She went around it. Near the paved yard she again smelled blood. Holding the crystal out at a shallow angle, she pressed the metal strip and swept the beam across and back, just for a second. Gurteys lay dead, her neck broken, a bag of gold and silverware clutched to her chest. Fley was nearby, his fingers crooked towards her – in death as in life. By the front door, a lyrinx lay with its head severed from its body. Oddly, it smelled of tar.

Tiaan stood by the bodies, listening in case there were more lyrinx. She heard no sound. Creeping inside, she was going carefully down the hall when someone cried hoarsely, ‘Who’s there?’

‘Nixx?’ she whispered. She could see more bodies further along.

‘Tiaan?’

She turned into the dark salon. Nixx cowered under a desk. She helped him out. Blood streaked his forehead and left thigh. ‘What’s happened, Nixx?’

‘A lyrinx came looking for you. We managed to kill it but it did a lot of us first. The rest took what they could carry and fled. I can’t say I blame them.’

She lit the lamp by the door. ‘And you?’

‘I am loyal to my master, but what am I to do? I know I’ll never see Gilhaelith again. I must run and try to find a new living. It won’t be easy, at my age.’

She felt for him – her situation was much the same. All she could do was try to complete the repairs and go … where? Borgistry was nearest. She must give the thapter to Scrutator Klarm and throw herself on his mercy – a commodity the scrutators had in short supply at the best of times. Little hope there, but she could not survive on her own.

‘Please stay,’ she said, ‘just until I fix the thapter. It’s nearly done.’

‘I cannot stay.’

‘I beg you – Gilhaelith would expect it. I can’t do it alone.’

He agreed, though with an ill grace, and she began.

Why had the lyrinx come back for her? When it did not return, others would follow. And the biggest unanswered question of all – what had Gilhaelith discovered about broken backs? Was that why he had gone to that secret meeting?

If only she knew where they had taken him …

Tiaan laboured night and day on the thapter. Four days later it was done, though she still had to test it. And even if it worked, what if the amplimet would not take her where she wanted to go?

She was working up behind the binnacle when a faintly bituminous odour reminded her of something. As Gilhaelith had been taken, and again near the dead lyrinx, she had smelled tar. Going to the front terrace, she checked the body of the beast. Its great feet were deeply stained with tar. She hurtled the walker inside. ‘Nixx, Nixx?’

She found him in Gilhaelith’s offices, packing coin into a leather bag. ‘Nixx,’ she cried. ‘I’ve just thought of something.’

‘What?’ He did not look up.

She told him about the tar. He went out to examine the corpse for himself. ‘Looks like it’s been walking in tar for years – the stuff is right into the pores of its skin.’

‘Where could it have come from?’ she asked.

‘Only one location I can think of. Snizort.’

‘Snizort?’

‘A place south of here, famous for its tar pits. It’s in the land of Taltid.’ He indicated it on a map. ‘I’ll go through his ledgers and see what I can discover.’

He came down shortly afterwards, finger holding a ledger open. ‘Gilhaelith purchased several kinds of bituminous spirits from Snizort. He’s made some notes on the place.’

She read them, though they mainly had to do with geography. An arid land, sparsely vegetated, with tar pits and seeps all over the place.

‘Oh well,’ she said, feigning disinterest. ‘He’s lost. I’d better keep going. Could you keep watch for me?’

‘No. I’ve done more than my duty, and I can’t stay a moment longer.’

‘Just for an hour. I’m nearly finished. Please.’

‘Oh, very well, for my master’s sake. Half an hour only.’

Nixx came running in ten minutes later, his jaw working like a nutcracker. ‘Constructs, marm. Lots of them.’

She dropped her wrench, which just missed a fragile glass mechanism. Tiaan reached over to pick it up. ‘How many is lots?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

‘At least fifty.’

‘Where are they?’

‘Approaching the foot of the mountain.’

Fear tickled her throat. ‘How long will they take to get here?’

‘Couple of hours; no more.’

It was not enough; the tests weren’t finished. ‘You’ll have to stall them, Nixx.’

‘Can’t do it, marm. They’ll torture my family if I try. You can’t ask that of me.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Run, as fast as I can.’

‘Where to?’

‘We have a hiding place.’ He hesitated. ‘An overgrown lava tunnel, way down in the forest.’

‘How can I get the thapter out of here?’ She should have asked that question a long time ago.

‘You can’t. We had to remove the window to bring it in.’ He was looking increasingly jumpy.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘Go. Save yourself. And thank you, Nixx.’

Offering her a sketchy salute, he ran up the steps. She skittered the walker across to the door and barred it, then raced back to the thapter. There was no time to replace the metal skin sections. She strapped them to the back and got on with the testing. If it did not work the first time, she was finished.

Tiaan was still doing the tests when she heard the echoing whine of constructs coming up the road. Only minutes left. She strapped her walker to the side of the thapter. Pulling herself into its seat, she passed a strap around her, took hold of the trumpet-shaped lever, visualised the field and let the energy flow.

Nothing happened. She tried again with the same result. Had she forgotten something? Yes, the hedron was still in its socket in the walker, and the thapter needed it and the ampliment, to fly. As she climbed out to get it, the Aachim began to smash down the front door.

Other books

Vampire Cowboy by Chastain, Juliet
Toygasm by Jan Springer
The Violent Peace by George G. Gilman
Murder at the Falls by Stefanie Matteson
Still Mr. And Mrs. by Patricia Olney
Mob Mistress by Renee Rose
1492: The Year Our World Began by Felipe Fernandez-Armesto
The Damned by John D. MacDonald