Tetrarch (Well of Echoes) (16 page)

The nylatl lunged but Nish was holding it back and Ullii was lightning quick. The sword flashed and danced. One blow opened up a cut across a crusted nostril, a second below the eye. The nylatl retreated and its backside struck Nish’s head. A spine slanted into his scalp; the poison burned. Thinking that the creature was going to come down on top of him, he let out a shriek.

Ullii wailed and hacked at the beast with all her strength. The sword clove three of its toes off and went a handspan through the wall of the basket. Blood poured from the damaged limb, all over Nish’s face.

Wrenching out the sword, Ullii thrust the tip at the creature’s eye, but it had had enough. It sprang off the side of the basket and landed on a lower branch, scrabbling at it with its injured limb. Jumping for the trunk, it went head-first down the tree.

Nish lost sight of it as the beast’s blood trickled into his eyes. He hung dazedly on the ladder until Ullii took his hands and dragged him into the basket.

She said nothing until she had wiped the blood away and discovered that he was not badly injured, whereupon she lay on him and wept until her tears washed his face clean. ‘I was so afraid,’ she sniffled, putting her soft mouth on his lower lip, which was swollen like a sausage.

He kissed her. ‘You are the bravest woman in the world, Ullii.’ Nish meant every word.

The tree creaked in the wind and he jerked upright, terrified. She pushed him down. ‘I will know, Nish,’ she whispered. ‘If it ever comes back, I will know.’

She poured water onto a rag and began to clean him, as gently as if he had been her baby. Afterwards they lay quietly on the floor of the basket, holding each other, until Nish realised, from the rising warmth, that his clothes stank of the nylatl’s blood. Pulling off his shirt, he tossed it away and felt in his pack for a clean one.

‘My clothes smell too,’ Ullii said, staring at his chest.

Nish was reaching for her pack when he realised what she was saying. She lifted her arms while he peeled the bloodstained coat off, and her trousers, which were not stained at all, followed by the neck-to-ankle underwear of woven spider-silk that protected her overly sensitive skin. Ullii, standing naked above him, was sweet and lovely and so very desirable.

They slept afterwards, until the cold woke them. A breeze moved the treetops as they dressed, giving each other sideways glances, still wondering about what had happened. Every so often Ullii would look up at him from beneath her colourless lashes, smile to herself, then glance away. Her eyes were watering but she did not put on her mask, and that was odd.

Nish was gnawing at a stale slab of flatbread, baked in the ashes days ago, when he remembered that strange vessel drifting across the sky. Standing up on the side of the basket, he peered through the treetops but of course could see nothing. Nish climbed to the level of the brazier, staring into the east. The sun reflected off the side of the mountain. There was no sign of the air-floater.

He yawned, stretched, and looked the other way, across the flatlands of Mirrilladell, dotted with a hundred thousand lakes now thawing in the spring. As he did, he caught a movement from the corner of his eye. The air-floater was coming directly for them and its intentions did not look peaceful.

‘
W
hat are we going to do?’ Tiaan yelled as more lyrinx flapped down into the entrance. She could see at least thirty already.

‘I’ll seal this level off,’ said Malien. ‘Run up and hide.’

‘They’ll slaughter you.’

‘This isn’t your battle. Anyway, Tirthrax has defences and so do I.’

‘I’m not going to leave you to fight alone.’

‘All right. Stay in the construct. I’ll set the sentinels.’ Malien hurried away.

Tiaan took hold of the controller knob but had to let it go for her arm was shaking. The construct was too precious to risk. She had no idea how to defend herself anyway, apart from driving straight at them, which could do no more than knock one or two down. She could not rely on its strangeness. The enemy were used to clankers. And to destroying them.

Two big females were flying towards her, accompanied by a smaller but more heavily muscled male. Above them soared a slight, unpigmented lyrinx – Liett again. The other lyrinx fanned out across the floor. There were too many of them. She couldn’t do it. But you fought the nylatl, Tiaan told herself. You’re not completely helpless. It was not convincing.

She concentrated on her breathing – deep, slow breaths. Her heart stopped thumping; her arm steadied. She hovered the construct. Tiaan dared not try to fly it. She moved the controller, ever so gently, and the construct went around a quarter-turn. She did it again, until she was facing the enemy. She felt a mad urge to race straight at them, out through the entrance and away.

Where
was
Malien? Tiaan felt desperately alone. She directed the construct toward the stairway with many a lurch and hop, for yesterday’s control had deserted her. The opening to the higher levels was closed. Malien appeared, wrestling with a black sentinel.

Tiaan drifted the construct that way. Malien looked up, flashed Tiaan a tight smile and said, ‘It wasn’t working properly. I had to
renew
it.’

‘Is it all right now?’

‘I believe it will do.’ She climbed in.

‘What are they doing?’ said Tiaan. The fliers were circling halfway down the hall, directly above a wedge of lyrinx on the floor. ‘Do you think they’re afraid of us?’

‘No, but they
are
wary. There’s a great civilisation here that they knew nothing about. For all they know, Tirthrax might have another thousand constructs ready for battle.’

‘And we could be luring them into a trap.’

Malien laughed. ‘If only. And of course, they must know of the great construct fleet by now. They may even have encountered it.’

‘How long can your sentinels keep them out of the upper levels?’

‘Days, at best. They’re watchers, not weapons, and not designed to defend an empty city.’

‘Then if Tirthrax is not to fall –’

‘Why would they want it?’ said Malien.

‘Because you have it. And because a mighty node lies here, which might be of benefit to them in their flesh-forming.’

Malien pursed her lips. ‘There are nodes aplenty in Santhenar, but if they want this one I will give them a show they will long remember. Though I fear …’

‘What?’

‘They’ll most remember that we are alone.’ She climbed up over the back.

‘What are you doing?’

Malien lifted the rear hatch and settled herself into the turret. One just like it had fired Haani’s fatal missile. Whirring gently, a spear-throwing device resembling a large crossbow rose from a concealed cavity. Malien swivelled the weapon back and forth, slid in a rod with a stone fist on the end, and wound the crank until the wires creaked.

‘I imagine I can do some damage with this. Go towards them, slowly. Try not to show any fear.’

One or two javelard missiles would make no difference. Tiaan prayed Malien had a stronger defence. With much concentration, she managed to keep the machine straight and steady, though it must have been clear that it was driven by an amateur. Did it have any other weapons? She should have explored that question long ago.

Tiaan moved to within fifty paces of the point of the wedge, then stopped. The fliers were all down now, except Liett. It required a considerable exertion of the Secret Art to stay in the air and they would not want to waste their strength. Liett, one of the best fliers of all, was just for show.

‘Why do you trespass in the city of the Aachim?’ came a cold voice from behind Tiaan. ‘I am Malien, Matah of Tirthrax. State your business, lyrinx!’

The largest female stepped forward. ‘I am Wise Mother Cordione,’ she boomed. ‘Until now, we have had no quarrel with the Aachim. You have kept to your cities and taken no part in the war.’

‘That is so,’ said Malien, ‘but you have not answered my question.’

‘Our business is eleven thousand machines of war like this one! Built in secret and now pushing across the world on half a dozen fronts. To what purpose, Matah?’

Malien did not answer straight away. ‘You know them better than I do, Tiaan,’ she whispered. ‘Is it better to say we built the machines here, or that we brought them from another world?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tiaan whispered back. ‘Either way confirms the value of this place.’

‘They know that already.’ Malien raised her voice. ‘These constructs were not built here, Wise Mother, though they could have been. They came across the void from Aachan, through a gate. Their passengers are refugees from a dying world.’

‘Then they do their own business and you cannot negotiate for them.’

‘They are still my people,’ said Malien. ‘My own Clan Elienor is numbered among them.’

‘Come they in war or in peace?’

‘They came, like your own kind, for survival. Should they be accommodated by Santhenar, they will have no need to fight.’

‘War, then,’ said the Wise Mother. ‘I thought as much.’

Tiaan held her breath. The lyrinx now showed violent red and black skin colours. Were they going to attack?

‘We are an honourable species,’ said Malien. ‘There will be no war without a declaration.’

The skin colours flashed brighter than before. Even Malien seemed alarmed. The moment stretched out, then the colours faded.

‘It best not be long in coming, for the march of your constructs is an act of aggression. Be sure we are ready to match it.’

The Wise Mother, yellow waves shimmering over her green crest, bowed low. Malien did the same. Cordione spread her glorious wings and climbed into the air. The others followed.

Malien’s javelard followed them to the entrance. Only then did she release the tension.

‘That was close. They’re not fooled, Tiaan. Nothing has changed here in weeks. If Tirthrax had any strength at all, we would have cleared away the rubble and sealed off the opening.’

‘What will they do?’ What am
I
to do, Tiaan thought desperately. I can’t destroy the amplimet, and I can’t leave with hungry lyrinx outside.

‘They will watch and wait. Once a declaration comes, they will return in force.’

‘And you?’

‘Tirthrax has stores enough to feed an army, and hiding places they will never find. You need not fret for me.’ She got down.

Tiaan followed her. ‘Malien, I –’

‘You’d better go.’

‘But they’ll eat me.’

‘If you’re flying the construct they’ll never catch you.’

Her heart lurched. ‘Where are we going?’

‘I’m not going anywhere. I don’t dare, with the Well in this state.’

Tiaan did not know what to say. ‘But the construct isn’t mine.’ How she wanted it!

‘It was abandoned in my city. I give it to you, freely and unencumbered.’

It was the greatest gift in the world. Too great a gift, undeserved. Why did Malien offer it? ‘Thank you,’ said Tiaan uneasily, ‘but … why not keep it for yourself?’

Malien walked across the great hall, head down, hands tucked in her loose sleeves. Tiaan watched her go, and return.

‘You’ve got to take the amplimet away, far and quickly. How else can you do that? The construct won’t fly without the amplimet, so it’s no use to me here.’

‘You could hide the amplimet outside until the Well has stabilised.’

‘It would still be too close. The amplimet must be taken a hundred leagues, at least. Since I cannot take it, you must. And also, Tiaan, in my heart I know that old humans and Aachim are both forms of humanity. Perhaps Minis was drawn to you for a reason. Maybe he
can
see the future and you are vital to it. There is something about you.’

Something small, frightened and helpless, but Tiaan did not argue. She had coveted the construct for too long.

‘The machine is well provisioned,’ Malien continued, ‘but take what you want from my storerooms. Anything at all.’

‘Thank you.’ What conditions would she put on the gift? Nothing came without an obligation.

Tiaan was exhausted but there was no time for sleep. She spent the rest of the day checking everything and practising. The strong force took a deal of getting used to, for it either flowed like a torrent or not at all. It required much more control, and affected both her mind and her sight. Once, her vision went blue for a minute before flashing back to normal. Another time she thought she was seeing double, a strange hallucination where what she saw through her left eye was a few seconds later than her right. She shook her head and the effect vanished, but another problem remained. Her view of the strong force tended to slip ‘off plane’, which would be disastrous if she was flying. If not for her visual memory, she could not have done it at all.

She would never master the machine in time. Tiaan was terrified of the strong forces; she knew so little about them and Malien could not help. She had to understand them on her own.

‘The design of the flying controller seems a little primitive for Rulke,’ said Malien that evening. ‘Perhaps that’s the problem. There may be something about the original design we haven’t discovered. You’d better get some sleep.’