Ian Irvine - Tetrarch

Sheathing the weapon, Nish climbed too. He could not allow the nylatl the advantage of height.

Once or twice it stopped, crouching and staring at him with those cunning eyes, but Nish waved his weapon, whistled or shrieked and did his best to look intimidating, and the nylatl kept on. In this way Nish reached the bottom of the balloon basket, where he realised his vulnerability. He would have to move out on the branch toward the creature, then climb the rope ladder with his back to it.

The nylatl went up another branch and stood watching him. Nish prayed that it would stay where it was. If it leapt into the basket, it could dine on Ullii at its leisure and attack him as he tried to climb over the rim.

Nish tapped on the bottom of the basket with his sword. ‘Ullii,’ he hissed.

She did not answer. He hoped she just had her earmuffs on, for if she had gone into one of her states he would never get her out of it.

‘Ullii!’

Still no answer. The nylatl raked its claws along the branch, tearing the hard bark into curling shreds. Its back legs tensed.

‘Ullii!’ he screamed, loud and shrill. He wasn’t pretending. ‘Help. It’s going to eat me.’

Again the nylatl reared back as if in pain. Above him, the lid of the basket creaked open. He could hear the seeker’s teeth chattering. Poor Ullii.

‘Nish?’ she whispered. ‘Where are you?’

‘Under the basket.’

‘I’m very frightened, Nish.’

‘I’m frightened too.’ Somehow he had to force her to act. A threat to her might not be enough, since her normal defence was to retreat into herself. Then he had it.

‘Ullii, look over the side.’ No answer. ‘It’s hurt me, Ullii, and now it’s going to eat me.’

She peered over, caught sight of his bloody, grotesquely swollen lips and let out a wail. ‘Nish, poor Nish!’

‘Ullii, can you see S’lound’s sword?’ S’lound, their guard from the balloon trip, had died in the landing at Tirthrax.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘It’s under his pack.’

‘Hold it out in front of you.’

He heard a rasp as the sword came from its scabbard.

‘That’s good. Now watch the beast while I climb up to you. Can you do that?’

‘I’m scared, Nish.’

‘It’s going to eat me, Ullii.’

Nish went out on the branch towards the dangling rope ladder. The nylatl rolled its tongue. He whistled and lunged forward, slashing with his sword. The creature went backwards, but not very far. Something flickered in its eyes. It wasn’t fear. It had worked him out.

Not daring to put the sword through his belt, Nish caught the ladder with one hand and tried to pull himself up. He slipped but managed to hook his arm through the rung. His back was to the nylatl now. Nish could feel the eyes on him. He was so terrified, he could almost see into the mind of the creature, feel its bliss as the talons raked down his back and the jaws went for his throat.

Heaving himself onto the next rung, he felt the sweat dripping from his armpits. Another rung. Only three to go. Two.

‘No!’ Ullii screamed. ‘Nish. Nish!’

The nylatl sprang. He saw it out of the corner of his eye. As Nish tried to swing around, one sweaty hand slipped on the rope. He snatched at the rung with his other hand and, horror of horrors, the sword slipped from his grasp. He tried to catch it with the toe of his boot but missed.

As he swung off the rope, the nylatl thumped into the side of the basket above his head. Its backside was right above him. Had he not lost his sword, he could have skewered it in one of the few places where it was vulnerable. He could not go up and dared not go down. Nish did the only thing left. He caught hold of one back paw, below the spines, and tried to tear the nylatl off the basket.

Futile hope. Nothing could relax those mighty claws. It kicked backwards, luckily at an awkward angle, or the claws would have torn his arm off at the elbow. As it was, they opened him up from wrist to the inside of his upper arm. Nish cried out; he could not help himself.

‘Nish!’ Ullii wailed. ‘Are you all right?’

‘No,’ he groaned, grasping the paw again. A spine pricked into his wrist but he dared not let go. All the nylatl had to do was spin around on the basket, lunge and bite his face off. There was nowhere for him to go.

Then, a sight that brought tears to his eyes, little Ullii was up on the edge of the basket in her bare feet, balancing like a tightrope walker. She had the long sword in both hands. She looked down, saw the gore all over him and let out a bloodthirsty cry of rage.

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.