Ian Irvine - Geomancer

‘Shouldn’t be too long a wait,’ said S’lound. ‘Feels like it’s blowing from the South Pole right now.’

He was still saying that a week later. This time they’d gone to see the villagers and made an arrangement with them for fuel. Nish was canny enough to pay in coppers, which they were glad to have, and the villagers chopped and fetched a mountain of wood, enough to enable them to keep the brazier going the whole time. If the air in the balloon went cold it would take hours to fill it.

The wind blew from the west, the north and even the east, but never from the south. Nish fretted. What was Tiaan up to? Ullii had sensed great urgency the last time she’d seen her. They had, however, found out where they were, somewhere between the cities of Runcil and Tatusti. Ullii had managed a clear sighting on Tiaan. Assuming she had not moved, the intersection showed her to be near Mount Tirthrax.

Late on their eighth night in that place they were woken by a great buffet on the basket. The wind whistled through the ropes, a gale carrying not snow but stinging crystals of ice. It was a howling southerly that lifted the balloon with every blast.

‘We’d better go,’ said S’lound.

‘I don’t dare take it up in this.’

‘It’ll get worse! We’ll lose it if we stay here.’

The wind screamed and flung the balloon right over. Nish thought it was going to smash against the ground. Before the craft could right itself another gust pushed it over again and the stakes on the windward side tore out.

‘Cut the ropes,’ S’lound roared, drawing his knife.

Nish did the same. Either way they were doomed. Before he could put his knife to the rope the other stakes tore free. The basket bumped along the ground. Flames belched out of the top of the brazier and he held his breath as they went close to the tarred fabric.

Bump, bump, then the basket struck an obstruction that caved in the side but kicked them into the air. They drifted sideways, almost parallel to the ground. The wind eased and the balloon pulled the basket up.

Nish climbed the ladder, hanging by one hand while he stoked the fire with as much wood as he could cram in. ‘I want to get as high as I can,’ he said when he was safely down. ‘That’s where the winds are, and the further we’re blown the less we’ll have to walk.’

Soon the brazier was glowing red, the distant ground racing by faster than it ever had. The whole balloon was shuddering, as if the air up top was moving faster than at basket level. The moon reflected silver off a thousand lakes.

‘How far to go?’ S’lound asked.

‘A hundred and twenty, maybe thirty leagues.’ Nish was watching the procession of lakes and rivers go by, comparing them with his map and making constant amendments. ‘This is a very poor chart,’ he said, peering over the side. ‘That huge lake down there isn’t even marked, and the river turns west, not east.’

‘Hard place to map, I’d reckon,’ grunted S’lound. ‘Bad maps are the soldier’s biggest problem.’

‘Except from a balloon!’ He had an idea that might earn him credit with the scrutator. ‘Hey, S’lound, what if we were to fly over all the lands where the soldiers were fighting and make proper maps from balloons?’

‘Good idea! Guess that’s why you’re in the favour of the scrutator and I’m just an old soldier.’

‘I’m not … Really ?’

‘So I hear.’

‘That was before I cocked up this mission.’

‘Ain’t over yet. How long to go, do you think?’

‘At this rate we should be pretty close by lunchtime. Ah, balloons are wonderful. This trip would takes us months, through the snow.’

‘If the wind lasts. And it takes us where it wants, not where we want to go.’

‘Well, yes, but certainly closer.’

As the sun rose it reflected redly off the eastern flank of Tirthrax itself, a way to their left. They were no more than thirty leagues from the mountains, which thrust up in an east–west line from the hummocky plains.

‘Oh, this is wonderful!’ Nish cried. ‘Come look, Ullii. You’ll never see a sight like this again.’

She peeped out of the basket, earmuffed and begoggled, and even she gazed at the astounding spectacle with wonder.

‘Can you still see Tiaan? Please say that you can, Ullii.’

‘I can see her. Her crystal fills my mind.’ She pointed to Tirthrax mountain, then darted back like a rabbit down a burrow.

‘How close do you think we can get?’ said Nish. The rugged foothills would be difficult country to walk in.

‘The wind has turned more easterly,’ said S’lound. ‘It’s carrying us in the right direction, at least.’

It was the first bit of good luck they’d had on the trip. ‘And maybe it’ll turn due east when it hits the mountains,’ Nish replied.

‘Or up and over, or fling itself at the cliffs. Might be an idea to set down sooner than later.’

‘We’ll keep going as long as we can. Most of those rivers look impassable.’

They drifted towards the mountains for another couple of hours. They were still east of Tirthrax, easily recognisable because it stood a good thousand spans above any of the other peaks. Great ice mounds covered the plain below the glacier falls.

Approaching the mountain wall, the winds did blow more from the east, carrying the balloon west towards their destination. They began to encounter turbulence, which grew worse the closer they approached, flinging the balloon about until they felt seasick. Nish could hear Ullii retching in her basket but she would not come out.

He let the fire die down. They were slowly losing height as Tirthrax loomed up before them. The buffeting diminished. Another hour passed. They crossed onto the middle flank of the mountain, the tree line a long way below them.

Nish called Ullii out, cleaned her up with a damp cloth, washed out her basket and asked her where Tiaan was now. Ullii pointed straight up the mountain, but as they drifted by her arm moved.

‘We’d better put it down,’ Nish said urgently. ‘We’ll get no closer than this.’

‘There, ahead.’

It was a long slope stripped down to rock by ice falling from the hanging valley above. On the other side lay a great boulder field, beyond which was a clear space that looked safe, though it was rather small. More rough country extended beyond it. Making an instant decision, Nish pulled the rope to open the valve.

They drifted towards the boulders. ‘Aren’t we going down a bit fast?’ yelled S’lound, who was hanging off the ladder near the stove.

Nish pulled the other rope. Nothing happened. ‘The valve must have frozen open! Come down, quick!’

S’lound stayed where he was, fiddling with the brazier lid. ‘Leave that!’ Nish yelled. ‘It won’t make any difference.’

Nish kept trying the valve to the end. They were dropping too quickly and would smash into the rocks. The ground raced up at them but at the last moment a gust lifted them over the rocks, unfortunately carrying them beyond the clear area as well. They headed towards another cluster of boulders. Nish threw himself at the side of the basket, which swayed in the air, glanced off the side of a boulder, then another, and fell between them, thumping into the ground. S’lound cried out.

Nish was hurled off his feet, cracking his head against the corner of Ullii’s basket. The slack went off the ropes; balloon and brazier seemed to be plunging straight at him. Momentarily he imagined the conflagration but the brazier stopped, resting on the rim of the basket. High above he heard a click that must have been the valve closing, for the balloon and brazier slowly drifted up until the ropes were taut.

The skeet let out shrill cries of rage. Nish picked himself up, bruised but unharmed. The basket was jammed between the boulders. He fixed the rope around a rock. ‘Well, that’s that. Are you all right, Ullii?’