Ian Irvine - Geomancer

The journey back to the manufactory was a nightmare Nish thought was never going to end. There was no way to bury the bodies in the frozen ground, and no fuel to burn them. All they could do was lay them out side by side, pile ice blocks over the top, bow their heads and think that if they’d done this or that it might have turned out differently.

After loading the injured into the clanker, they took the controllers from the remaining two and set out for the far side of the plateau where the lifting frames were hidden. The other operators being dead, there was no way to bring their clankers back. At the cliff they unloaded the injured, preparing to send them down on stretchers to whatever shelter could be found below. There was none up here – the gale was unceasing.

Nish had never worked so hard, erecting the frames and arrays of pulleys, roping the clanker, tying on a boulder at the base of the cliff to serve as a counterbalance. The only able-bodied people were himself, Simmo and his shooter Rahnd, Tuniz and Fyn-Mah. Irisis, with her broken leg, could not help though she had remained up top. Rustina could use only one hand. Ky-Ara, though overcome by inconsolable grief at the loss of his clanker, could at least hold a rope. Nish’s father was delirious and had to be sedated with nigah extract. Ullii was useless.

It was not enough. There were simply too few people to do all the work, for a minimum of six were required to swing the clanker out over the cliff, and another four on the rope that would brake its descent. They had to make do with four and two, and add extra pulleys so they could lift the weight at all.

‘Ready?’ called Tuniz.

‘Yes!’ Nish held the braking rope taut. Ky-Ara stood behind him, hanging on listlessly.

‘Lift!’ Her team hauled on their rope.

Nish thought the heavily laden clanker was not going to move at all. The rope went taut and the four strained until their joints cracked. Finally it lifted, ever so slowly.

‘Hold!’ yelled Tuniz. Tying the end of the rope around a rock, she ran to swing the arm out. It did not budge. She threw her weight against it, the arm freed suddenly and the artificer almost went over. The clanker dropped, pulling the team off their feet. The rock tore out of the ground and the machine fell sharply, for Ky-Ara had let go of the braking rope. Nish could not hold the weight. The rope scorched through his hands and he had to let go.

The clanker hit the cliff, rotated and crashed on its other side, buckling the armour plates. Simmo gave a cry of anguish. Nish thought the machine was going to fall all the way, but after a few jerks the counterweight held it.

‘Useless clown!’ Nish roared at Ky-Ara. ‘Why did you let go?’

Ky-Ara just stared vacantly at him.

Now they encountered another problem – the counterweight was heavier than the clanker. That had not mattered on the way up, but they would have to add weight to the machine for it to descend.

‘Perhaps if one of us were to go on the shooter’s seat,’ said Fyn-Mah.

‘No!’ Tuniz said sharply. ‘If it falls we’ve lost another person and we’ll never get it down.’

They manoeuvred a small boulder onto the seat. Nish felt the tug immediately and began to pay the rope out. The clanker went down, swinging in the violent updraft and crashing repeatedly into the cliff. Every blow, every impact that tore free another leaf of its armour, caused Simmo to wail in torment.

‘Slow it down!’ he screamed, in tears.

Nish tried his best but the rope hissed through his fingers, burning welts across his palm. ‘Ky-Ara!’ he screamed. ‘Hold the damn thing! Ky-Ara?’

Ky-Ara had dropped his end and wandered off. Again Nish was forced to let go. The wildly swinging clanker crashed into the ascending boulder. Both stopped, revolving around each other, and a section of armour fell off.

‘I can’t hold the brake rope by myself!’ Nish said furiously. ‘It needs at least three. What’s the matter with you, Ky-Ara?’

The operator gave him a bland stare. Fyn-Mah and Tuniz came running and hauled on the clanker’s rope. Nothing happened. The cables were twisted around the bent struts and protruding leaves of armour. No matter how hard they pulled they could not free them.

‘Someone will have to go down,’ said Rustina.

‘Be a harder job than it looks!’ Tuniz stared at the mess, rubbing a white spot on her nose. ‘Especially in this wind. Any volunteers?’

‘I’ll go,’ said Nish, ‘if no one else can.’ He did not want to, in fact doubted that he could do anything useful, but volunteering was better than being ordered. He had to redeem himself, if that was possible after the last disastrous week.

‘Well, you can’t go, Tuniz,’ said Rustina. ‘You’re the senior artificer. But I suppose we can afford to lose him .’

‘I’ll go,’ said Simmo, pushing past Nish. ‘It’s my clanker and my right.’ His eyes were fever bright.

‘I don’t know,’ said Rustina. ‘What do you think, querist?’

‘We can’t afford to lose an operator either,’ said Fyn-Mah, ‘though Ky-Ara is getting better. But could he even operate this clanker?’

‘He could, if he put his own controller in place of mine,’ said Simmo, hopping from one foot to the other. He took hold of Fyn-Mah’s arm. ‘Please. This machine is my life. Besides, I may have to operate it to get free. No one else can.’

‘Oh, very well,’ said Rustina. ‘You have no further objections, Fyn-Mah?’

‘Get it done!’

Ky-Ara suddenly looked radiant and Nish wondered why. Simmo went down a rope, landing gently on the shooter’s platform. The updraft kept tugging the machine away from the cliff and the weight of the boulder slamming it back.

‘He’d better hurry,’ said Tuniz, ‘or the clanker will be a pile of scrap.’

Simmo wept as he inspected the damage. He tried to untangle the ropes but there was so much weight on them that it proved impossible. He tried to untwist them by rotating the clanker out past the boulder. The pressure of the wind would not allow it.

‘What’s he doing now?’ Nish wondered aloud.

Simmo had gone inside and was sitting in his seat. The clanker’s legs moved back and forth, the front pair scratching against the counterweight.

‘Smart idea,’ said Tuniz, walking backwards along the cliff edge with her rope. ‘He’s trying to spin the counterweight around the clanker. Take hold of the braking ropes, just in case.’

They did so and braced themselves. The clanker’s metal feet screeched on the stone and it rotated the right way, a full turn. ‘Oh, brilliant work!’ exclaimed the querist. ‘Twice more and he’ll have it.’

Simmo tried again. This time it took quite a few attempts but finally the counterweight swung another turn. The legs thrashed, ground against the slowly rotating boulder and caught on something.

‘No! Back off!’ Tuniz yelled. ‘Ky-Ara, you can free it. Pull hard, that way !’

‘What’s the matter?’ called Fyn-Mah.

‘The counterweight rope’s caught around one leg. Stop or you’ll break it!’ she roared with all her might. ‘Pull hard, Ky-Ara, that way!’

Simmo did not hear and Ky-Ara just let go of his rope. The legs jerked, the rope snapped and the counterweight dropped out of its rope cage. They watched in horror as the clanker fell, slowly at first, faster as it ripped the twisted ropes apart. The broken end whipped up, lashing about before it went through the pulley.

The clanker rolled over in the air and landed upside down on one of the boulders, splitting open down the middle. Armour and leg parts went flying in all directions. The pair of iron flywheels spun across the snow, out of sight. The smash came echoing up. Silence fell.