Ian Irvine - Alchymist

Flydd took a step backwards, regarding him uncertainly.

then he just let you go?'

'No — he was behind me, casting some kind of spell. His tabble contained all sorts of alchymical apparatus — stills, retorts—'

'I should have thought of that,' muttered Flydd. 'What is it, surr?'

His particular Art is alchymical in nature, and what better By to enhance it than through the tears, which represent nature's purification and distillation of the essence of a node.

They would fit his Art like a glove. It's worse than I thought.

The tears could make him too powerful. What did he do then?'

'He cast his spell, to corrupt me and make me his servant, but it didn't take.'

'Not even with the power of the tears?' said Flydd, aston-ished. 'Why ever not?'

'I've no idea, but he seemed disconcerted. He had to do it three times.'

He's not not yet mastered the tears, evidently. And then?' 'He forced an aichymical potion down my throat…What is it, su rr?' Flydd was looking at him suspiciously.

And then?'

'Father ordered Xabbier to take me to the brig and hold me in solitary confinement until the morning, so the spell would have time to set. But Xabbier had heard all he'd said and done to me. He forced me to vomit up the potion right away.'

'He did?' Flydd said gladly. 'I'd like to meet this friend of yours.'

'I hope he's still alive. When Jal-Nish finds out …' Nish related how Xabbier had helped him to escape.

'I see. Is that all?' Flydd seemed to be regarding him ambiguously.

'Not quite.'

'I can't imagine anything worse.'

'I was coming back, through a great field of limestone pinnacles,' Nish began, 'which lie near the edge of the escarpment. The tears must have changed me, somehow, for I realised that I could see right into the stone. But it was not stone inside.'

Flydd was staring at Nish as though seeing him in a new light. 'What did you see, Nish?'

'I saw the skeletons of lyrinx, and their beating hearts. Uncounted thousands of them lie hidden within stone pinnacles above the southern escarpment, near the army camp and,, for all I know, as many on the eastern and northern sides. The beasts must have been stone-formed, surr. It's an ambush and, if we don't warn him, Jal-Nish's army will be annihilated to the last man.'

Flydd threw his arms around Nish, hugging him to his scarred and scrawny chest. As abruptly he let go. 'Would that I had a son, and you were he.'

Nish's hands fell by his sides; he was astounded, and so proud that his eyes flooded with tears. He wasn't a complete failure after all.

Before he could say anything Flydd ran to the hatch, bellowing, 'Troist, quickly!'

The general threw himself in. What is it, surr?' The enemy are between us and Jal-Nishs army. They've stone-formed themselves into limestone pinnacles above the main camp. It's a trap. Break camp; we must leave immediately and march through the night to Gumby Marth.' 'How many were there?' said Troist.

'I couldn't be sure,' said Nish. 'Tens of thousands, like as not.'

'Why this way?' said Troist. 'Why not fly in an army at night, from across the sea?'

'Most lyrinx aren't fliers,' said Flydd. 'They wouldn't have enough of them to attack an army this size. And even a short flight would weaken them. This way they can appear out of nowhere, without warning. And remember the fliers we saw near the exploded node, Nish? They may have guessed Jal-Nish has the, er . . , secret weapon, and know they have to ambush the army to succeed. I'd better check the cloaker.

The original spell wasn't designed for this big a force, or an enemy so near, and it would take a dozen mancers working together to make it so.'

'It was still holding the last time I spoke to Nutrid,' said Troist.

'It could feather around the edges without him knowing.

Besides, the enemy's stone-forming must take much from the field. If it's drawn down too far, the cloaker won't conceal us.'

'We'll march at once.' Troist threw up the rear hatch, snapped orders to a messenger waiting outside and turned to the chart on the table. 'What if we head west, this way, and cross into Gumby Marth below the neck? When the enemy attack, they'll hold it, so as to trap Jal-Nish's forces inside. If you keep the escapeway open, the army will have a chance.'

How far is it?'

Troist was busy with his dividers. 'It's four leagues before we can get into the valley, then another two back to the neck. A brutal forced march and the clankers will be slower than the men.'

‘Can we do it by mid-morning?' said Flydd.

'We have to find a way through rugged country in the dark. I don't know how long it'll take.'

'Try very hard, General. If we're too late, there won't be any point.'

'We'll do our best, surr, though we won't be in prime condition when we get there.'

'Just as long as we do get there. And we'll have to send someone to warn Jal-Nish. Someone he'll believe.'

Nish's skin crawled, but he knew duty when it faced him. 'I — I'd better go, surr.'

'I need you here,' said Flydd.

'Do you think I want to go? It's a tricky passage through the pinnacles in the dark, and the path down the escarpment is not easily found. We can't risk the messenger getting lost. The enemy could be breaking out already.'

'If they are, you're dead, Nish.'

'And so is everyone else.'

'I won't risk it,' said Flydd. 'Jal-Nish could be calling you back.'

'I don't think so. When he did it before, it made my skin tingle.'

'He's cunning, Nish. He might change the compulsion each time. And once he sees you again, you'll be powerless to escape him.'

'Then you'll have to free me, surr.'

'I still don't like it.'

'I've got to warn them, surr I — I've a lot to atone for.'

Flydd stared at Nish for a second, then nodded. 'Yes, go!' He gave him his hand. 'I hope we meet again.'

'So do I,' said Troist. 'I really do. Take this.' He handed Nish a piece of rolled flatbread stuffed with spiced ground meat, and a skin of sour beer, the weak kind soldiers were given on I the march when the water was not fit to drink. 'Ill send someone with you to the edge of the watch.'

'I'd appreciate that, surr.' Nish munched on the roll. 'My backside isn't feeling so hot.'

He felt better with food in his belly. The beer did not improve matters, however, so after a couple of swigs he slung it over his shoulder for later. The guard, a small man whose brreath whistled in his nose, said no word ail the way through the forest and into the pinnacles beyond. At their furthest edge he left Nish silently.

Nish stayed where he was for a moment, still thinking about his father and the spell. What if Jal-Nish caught him and Flydd could not set him free? His father would bind him with the spell and Nish would be forced to serve him, committing all kinds of atrocities, to the end of his days. He might even become corrupt and grow to enjoy that servitude, even to take pleasure in the suffering he inflicted. Better that he hurl him-self over the precipice and leave Jal-Nish, and his army, to their fate.

But that wasn't an option either. He'd taken this task upon himself and could not set it aside. Nish took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and moved on.

He made it through the next patch of forest and into the main series of pinnacles without incident, but had not gone a dozen steps before he realised that something was different.

He hesitated, then kept going. He had to act normally, in case the enemy could tell he was there.

What had changed, though? He hadn't yet lost the sight. He couuld still see the robust, odd-shaped skeletons, the bodies bent in strange shapes to accommodate themselves to the form of the rock. Occasionally he saw a heart pulse, or a claw. It was hard not to look over his shoulder. It was very hard not to run, to pant, to gasp. He was less than halfway through the maze, which was now more difficult to negotiate, the moon being low. Shadows covered all but the tops of the pinnacles.