Ian Irvine - Tetrarch

‘Any marks on the ground?’ Irisis asked Ullii for what seemed the hundredth time. ‘Any pits or holes or diggings?’

‘No,’ said Ullii.

‘Any sense of a node-drainer?’

‘No! Tired. Want to sleep.’

Ullii always seemed tired lately. It was an added worry.

‘Only one line to go,’ Irisis said.

Ullii said something rude, but did keep going. They trudged down the line, Ullii sensing the shape of the node, Irisis noting its variations in her book. Finally they got to the end, only a couple of hours before dawn.

‘Anything here, Ullii?’

‘ No . Have to sleep.’

‘You can lie down right here, if you like. We’re finished.’

Irisis signalled into the air. There was no response. She prayed they would not have to walk, for it was a long trek to the Westway, the first place where they could hope to be picked up. She did not fancy that, in lyrinx country.

The work they’d done had confirmed what she already knew. The node was a long way underground and there could be no node-drainer here, else Ullii would have sensed it. They would have to search from the air-floater and hope to come upon signs of strangeness, such as sinking land or a sudden appearance of hot springs, though both were common around Snizort. Ullii had to know where to look.

Irisis sat up until dawn. The air-floater did not come. In the morning Ullii rolled over and was violently ill. She curled up under a tree in the shade, her mask, goggles and earmuffs firmly in place, and could not be convinced to move. Irisis spent a restless, anxious day.

That night she signalled as soon as it grew dark and the air-floater appeared within minutes. ‘Where the blazes were you last night?’ Flydd said as she climbed over the side.

‘Right here!’ she snapped. ‘Waiting to be picked up.’

‘They went back and forth a hundred times but couldn’t find you. Got me out of bed to tell me so.’

‘Poor you! They must have gone to the wrong spot.’

‘Don’t see how they could have. They were navigating by the field. Did you find the node?’

‘Found it, mapped it. It’s small and round, with a broad halo. No sign of any drainer, though.’

‘Perhaps they’re using all the power for flesh-forming.’ He turned to the seeker. ‘Ullii?’

‘Yes,’ she said limply.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Sick!’

‘Can you still see the lattice?’

‘Of course!’ Ullii said scornfully.

‘Well, you couldn’t after we lost Nish,’ Flydd muttered. ‘I want you to look for a node-drainer on the way back. Can you do that?’

‘Tired!’ Ullii was always snappy with Flydd these days.

‘I want you to look. All right ?’

She’d fought him before, and lost. ‘Yes, scrutator.’

They travelled in a direct line from the node towards Gospett. It was a beautiful, moonlit night. The navigator plotted their track on the chart. Ullii could see nothing. They were all depressed.

‘What if we flew over Snizort?’ Irisis suggested. ‘The lyrinx could be dumping surplus power among the tar pits. Ullii might be able to pick that up.’

He considered. ‘It’s risky on such a clear night. We’d have to stay low for there to be a chance.’

‘But –’

‘On the other hand, the tar pits would be the perfect place to hide such a flow of force.’

They crossed Snizort from south to north. It was another hot night. The moon reflected off inky-black deposits as shiny as mirrors. Irisis watched Ullii.

‘Nothing!’

The air-floater turned and went back the other way. ‘Lyrinx,’ called Pilot Hila.

Ullii went bolt upright, the moonlight touching her eyes.

‘It’s all right, Ullii,’ said Irisis. ‘It’s below us. We can go higher than it can.’

‘Waves of flesh!’ Ullii cried, and fell sideways.

The scrutator caught her and shouted for the pilot to head for home. ‘What can that mean?’

Irisis had seen such a reaction before, on the plateau just before they’d attacked the ice houses. ‘It means they’re flesh-forming down there.’

‘We knew that already. Flesh-forming what?’

‘It’s Tiaan,’ Ullii whispered.

Irisis and the scrutator stared at each other. ‘Are you sure, Ullii?’

The question was redundant. Ullii had never been known to make a mistake.

‘What’s Tiaan doing down there?’

The seeker lay back, panting, and did not answer.

‘Ullii’s been sick all day,’ said Irisis. ‘She was sick yesterday morning too.’

They exchanged looks. ‘I wonder,’ said Flydd, ‘if she and Nish might have done some flesh-forming of their own?’

‘It would explain a lot.’

They travelled the rest of the route in silence. As the air-floater settled down, Fyn-Mah came running out, to speak rapidly in Flydd’s ear. He nodded. She went inside.

The scrutator helped Ullii down. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to look for a node-drainer tomorrow?’

‘Found it,’ she grunted. ‘Tired. Going to bed.’

‘What? Where is it?’ he and Irisis cried together.

‘Tar pits. When lyrinx appeared. Underground. Deep. Very strange.’

Flydd glanced at Irisis. ‘What do you mean, Ullii?’

The seeker trotted off without answering. Flydd ran and caught her arm as she was going through the front door. ‘Ullii?’

‘Goes on and off.’ She pulled free and scuttled down the hall.

‘Is that good or bad?’ Flydd said. ‘Either way, it’s not a moment too soon.’

‘What’s the matter now?’ said Irisis.

‘The Aachim are just over the horizon – the best part of a hundred thousand of them, and as many constructs as we have clankers. And doubtless the rest are on the way.’

‘Are they for us or against us?’

‘If only I knew. Now be quiet. I’ve got to think.’

They spent what remained of the night on the veranda with Fyn-Mah. ‘So the enemy have Tiaan,’ said Flydd. ‘How did that come about?’

‘I haven’t discovered,’ Fyn-Mah replied. ‘Muss is trying to find out.’

‘More importantly,’ said Irisis, ‘what does she have to do with their flesh-forming?’

‘They used her talents in Kalissin. Perhaps they’re doing it again.’

‘What are they doing down there?’

Fyn-Mah leaned forward in her chair. ‘I don’t know, though from what Muss has gleaned from their human slaves, they’re close to what they went there for.’

‘And that is?’ said Irisis.

‘A vital breakthrough for the war,’ said Flydd. ‘Our time has run out. We’ll have to attack Snizort, and soon.’

‘What are our chances?’

‘Of winning this battle? Without aid, rather low.’

Fyn-Mah sat up. ‘There is one thing …’

‘Yes?’

‘Vithis is still hunting Tiaan and the flying construct. He’s changed all his plans just to find her. So –’

Flydd let out his breath in a sigh that made the candles flicker. ‘Of course he is. And we know where she is. I see an opportunity.’

‘You wouldn’t,’ said Irisis.

‘What’s one life, any life, before the whole of humanity?’

Two days later the first and greatest fleet of constructs appeared, some six thousand of them, whining in to camp well south of Snizort, where the Westway crossed the River Zort over a stone bridge of seven arches. Irisis and Flydd watched them from the air-floater.

‘Not a comforting sight.’ Flydd put down his spyglass. ‘Their constructs are …’

‘Vastly superior to our clankers,’ Irisis finished.

‘In every respect. And a damn sight more comfortable.’

The soldiers called clankers ‘boneshakers’, for they were hideously uncomfortable, even on good roads, and prone to breaking down. Constructs, gliding hip-high above the ground, must have been like floating on silk.