Ian Irvine - Chimaera

‘I hope it works. I’m afraid, Nish.’ Suddenly she wasn’t bold, reckless Irisis any more, the stalwart who had survived a thousand crises barely ruffled. She was just a frightened young woman whom he loved with all his heart, and that made it so very much worse.

‘So am I.’

Jal-Nish paid them no attention. He seemed to be suffering aftersickness from his struggle to bring the thapter back, for he was bent right over, arm hanging. Unfortunately it didn’t give them a chance to escape. His red-coated soldiers had secured the remainder of Troist’s officers and, backed by the manifest power of the tears, no one had dared resist them. At least, not after the initial demonstration, which had left three officers crisped and belching black smoke in the centre of the square.

‘I wonder what Tiaan has in mind?’ said Irisis.

‘I don’t know, but I’m sure Yggur or Flydd do.’ They were still lying on the ground, though both were alive and conscious. Nish could see one of Flydd’s eyes staring across the square. Had Jal-Nish paralysed him, or was Flydd just waiting his chance?

‘How are you … surr?’ Nish said quietly.

‘It’s not one of the greatest days of my life,’ Flydd said, speaking with an effort. He groaned. ‘I can’t think how I allowed this to happen.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I knew what a sneaking, treacherous dog your father was. I should have gone over the Gumby Marth battlefield with a pair of tweezers. As if he’d allow himself to be eaten by the enemy.’

‘As if the lyrinx would eat him,’ said Yggur, sitting up. ‘His flesh would be as poisonous as a toad’s.’

‘I was so pleased to hear of his passing,’ said Flydd, now moving an arm experimentally, ‘that I failed to make sure that he had. And now we suffer for it.’

‘Tiaan has got something in mind,’ said Nish. ‘She got away with Malien, Gilhaelith and Merryl.’

‘I saw the end of her struggle with Jal-Nish,’ said Flydd.

‘She’s gone towards the Well,’ said Irisis.

‘Irisis!’ choked Flydd, rolling over and staring in her direction. ‘They got you too?’

‘I couldn’t go without Nish or you, surr.’

‘Bloody fool! I’d abandon you quickly enough, if the need required it.’

‘I know you would, surr,’ she said softly. ‘But at heart you’re a wicked and corrupt scrutator, whose whole purpose in life is to use others. I, on the other hand, am an innocent artisan from an obscure manufactory, and I cannot abandon a friend who was once my lover.’

Flydd managed a chuckle. ‘A long time ago.’

‘Even so.’

‘Well, don’t expect any gratitude,’ he said gruffly. ‘I think less of you for it.’

‘I know you do. It changes nothing.’

He pushed himself to a sitting position. ‘Do you have any idea what Tiaan has in mind?’

‘No,’ said Nish.

Quite some time after that, there came a brilliant flash from the direction of the Hornrace. Jal-Nish snapped upright onto his toes, and his arm reached up to the sky, the red-tipped fingers clawed. His mouth opened in a silent cry, then he fell to his knees again, gasping. Green scum foamed through the mouth hole of the mask.

‘That was our chance,’ said Flydd. ‘Unfortunately I can’t do anything with it. The tears haven’t released me.’ He glanced at Nish. ‘I wasn’t joking about the cottage and the flowers, lad. Even gnarled old scrutators dream of retiring one day.’

‘It has less to recommend it than you might imagine,’ said Yggur dryly.

‘Oh well,’ said Flydd. ‘It’s not going to happen now.’

‘No, but let’s defy him to the end. If we can’t defeat him, at least we can show him up by the manner of our deaths.’

Jal-Nish slowly began to recover. He wiped his chin and pushed himself to his feet. His hand moved towards the tears but stopped before it reached them. Flydd spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Yggur. Nish didn’t catch what was said. Yggur took a long time to answer.

He broke off. Jal-Nish had recovered and was heading their way, supported by his guards. ‘Gather them up for the trial,’ he said, his voice slightly slurred.

The guards dragged Yggur and Flydd to their feet. Others seized Nish and Irisis. Troist, Fyn-Mah and Flangers were led from another direction, along with the surviving army officers.

They were hauled into the centre of the square, each with a guard at their back, and there they stood for an hour or more, unmoving, while Jal-Nish vented his rage at them. Nish began to feel faint. He swayed on his feet and the guard smacked him in the ear.

‘Don’t move!’

A distant flash illuminated part of the sky. Shortly Nish saw another, and a third. The earth shivered beneath him and some time after that he heard a rumble in the western distance. Even the guards looked that way.

‘Tiaan’s done it this time,’ said Flydd in the common speech of the south-east, which these guards would probably not know. ‘Get ready to run.’

There were further flashes, more ground shakes. Another rumble sounded, closer, then another, closer still. Jal-Nish was trying vainly to see what was happening. He clutched at the tears, suddenly uncertain of his power.

‘The tears won’t do you any good, Scrutator ,’ Flydd sneered. ‘Tiaan’s succeeded this time.’

‘At what?’ Jal-Nish said furiously. There was a brittle edge to his voice.

‘Over the past year she’s mapped all the nodes, and the links between them,’ said Yggur, speaking slowly and precisely. ‘She’s found a way to destroy them all –’

A flash that lit up the sky was followed within seconds by a far louder boom.

‘– including the tears around your neck, Jal-Nish.’

With a great shudder, Jal-Nish tore the chain and the tears from his neck and made to hurl them into the crowd. The humming of the tears became a shrill wailing. But then, with an effort of will, he held them back.

‘I’ve nothing to fear from death. I look forward to it.’ Jal-Nish put the chain around his neck again, though as the tears touched his chest he was overcome by a shudder of horror. The song of the tears died away to nothing.

They all stared at him, expecting to die in a monstrous conflagration. More roars and booms were heard, some only leagues away, others just a tickle of the air or a shudder through the ground. Finally, red roiling clouds erupted into the sky less than a league away along the cliffs, the whole square rocked, and there was silence.

Someone screamed in the crowd. It was Pilot Chissmoul, her face a mask of anguish as she realised that she’d never operate a thapter again.

Absolute silence. The song of the tears returned, a high-pitched, edgy sound, more potent than before. The first one to move was Jal-Nish. He put his hand into one of the tears, gave a visible wrench and the gravel danced a few paces away until it glowed white hot and sagged into a solid, molten mass.

Turning to the dumbstruck pair, Yggur and Flydd, he roared with laughter. ‘Oh, this is wonderful, glorious ! The tears are a wild force, quite separate from nodes and fields. Tiaan has delivered Santhenar freely into my hands. I expected the fight of my life. Instead, I’ve won with no more than a whimper.’

‘What is it?’ cried Nish. ‘What’s gone wrong?’

Jal-Nish came right up to him. ‘I’ll tell you, idiot son.’ Pulling off the platinum mask he thrust his ravaged and pustulent face right in Nish’s.

Nish drew back in horror. He could not help it.

‘You show your true feelings toward your father, boy.’

‘What’s happened?’ cried Nish. ‘Tell me.’

‘Tiaan has destroyed all the nodes, and all the fields with them,’ Irisis said limply. ‘But when the tears were distilled from the Snizort node, it must have torn them free of the system of nodes and links. All power that relies on fields is gone, perhaps forever, but Jal-Nish has lost none of his.’