Ian Irvine - Geomancer

Tiaan almost made a sneering reference to lyrinx honour but thought better of it. What did she know about them, apart from the propaganda that came up the mountain?

‘You forced me,’ she said weakly. ‘I was going to kill you.’

‘But you did not, and thus I owe you.’

It was all too much. She could hardly stand up for hunger. She tried, her head spun, and Tiaan collapsed.

When she roused, the creature was looming over her. ‘Are you injured?’

‘I’m starving. I haven’t eaten for days.’

‘I often go a week without eating,’ said Ryll. His knee wobbled and he sat down hurriedly. ‘But then, I might consume a whole antelope, or a small …’ He broke off. ‘Your tiny belly would only hold one mouthful.’ He gripped her thigh, the fingers curling all the way round. ‘There’s nothing of you. Eat! I won’t harm you.’

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, taking out one of the ration packets with many an uncomfortable glance at the creature that, even sitting, was taller than she. He was holding out his injured hand, staring at it. Previously, pieces of ragged bone had protruded from the severed ends of his fingers. No bone was visible now. The stumps were covered with smooth skin, pinkish grey.

‘What are you doing?’ she said.

‘Regenerating my hand.’

‘How?’

‘It’s just something we can do – there are animals of your world with the same ability.’

Ryll was concentrating so hard that droplets of perspiration appeared on his brow.

‘Is that a form of mancing?’ she wondered.

‘I dare say. Without it, we would never have survived in the void.’

No further changes were evident. Regeneration must be a slow process, and an exhausting one, for Ryll went limp, his colours fading to pastel greens and blues. He could barely hold himself up now. She might escape after all, if she was quick. She’d better be, before the other lyrinx came back.

‘You are different to the humans we meet – soldiers and armed men,’ said Ryll. ‘We can learn a lot about humankind from people like you.’

Tiaan methodically chewed her way through the ration packet, rice pasta layered with vegetables cooked to a thick paste. Was talking to this lyrinx treason? Saving its life, even under duress, must be.

She rose, watching Ryll from the corner of her eye. He put out an arm as if to restrain her, but had to let it fall. Her chance had come. Careful now; don’t alarm him in case he’s saving his strength. She went across to check on Pelf and the other man. Both were dead. Tiaan closed their eyes. The dead flesh made her shudder. Ryll’s eyes followed her though he lay still, panting softly. Gathering her pack, she kept well out of reach.

‘Where are you going, little outcast?’

She glanced at the entrance to the long tunnel. ‘The other lyrinx went up there. I have to find another way.’

‘You are brave,’ said the lyrinx, ‘but I fear you will die just the same. There is a blizzard blowing outside. Or …’ Ryll tilted his head, giving her a cunning look.

‘What?’

‘You could come with me.’

‘No!’ She backed away. ‘I know what you want. I’m not going to be a little grub to feed your hatchlings.’ The thought nearly made her scream. She imagined herself lying helpless in a food chamber while its vicious young tore out her soft parts.

‘We give birth, just like you,’ said Ryll. ‘Do you know so little about us?’

She knew nothing but dreadful rumour and what she had seen with her eyes.

‘Besides, I owe you,’ he went on.

‘I do not wish to insult you again,’ she said carefully, ‘but how do I know you have honour?’

‘I could have killed and eaten you a dozen times.’ Ryll slammed his mighty fist down and his skin changed to the uniform grey it had worn into battle.

Tiaan backed away hurriedly. ‘Now you reveal your true colours.’ The pun was unintended, though it pleased her nonetheless.

Taking a crossbow and satchel of bolts from one of the dead archers, she fitted a bolt into the weapon. ‘I could kill you.’

His skin faded to a sludgy green. Ryll slid sideways, his cheek striking the floor. ‘I do not doubt it, in my present state,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Are you going to?’

Had he attacked she would have shot him, but while he lay helpless, watching her, she could not. At the mouth of the middle tunnel she took out her crystal, which was glowing as before. Ryll’s eyes widened and Tiaan regretted her action. However, he did not move. He resembled a collapsed balloon, nothing like the flesh machines the lyrinx had been before the battle.

She hurried down the passage. After a few minutes’ walking she was brought up by a body lying on the rocky floor. The head lay some distance away, only recognisable by its white hair – the unfortunate Hants. The eye with the cast was staring at her.

Stepping around the corpse, she continued, shortly coming to a dead end. The tunnel stopped at a smooth rock surface. The light revealed a lever down low. As she pulled it, the door rotated, letting in a blast of freezing air. The sky was gloomy grey, the same colour as the landscape. It looked ominous.

The wind went right through her. The cold was the worst she had ever felt. An icicle began to form on her upper lip. Tiaan ducked inside to put on the mountain gear that had belonged to Joeyn’s wife. The gift warmed her and she spent a minute, head bowed, thinking of her dead friend. Opening the door again, she peered out. It was a blizzard and only the lyrinx could have made her go out into it.

The door opened onto a narrow ledge on a steep mountainside. To her left a spindly tree was just visible through whirling snow, maybe a hundred paces away. To her right the ledge disappeared into white. The manufactory should be on the other side of the mountain, though in this weather she could not be sure of anything. On the other hand, she dared not go back inside. She mentally tossed a coin. Left looked marginally more attractive than right. She went left and began to trudge up the ledge.

Beyond the tree she came onto an exposed slope where the wind was like needles of black ice. Tiaan looked down and could see nothing. Up was the same. Gritty snow blew horizontally. Forward and back, she now lost the path within a dozen paces. It could have been any hour of the day. Which way should she go? She had no idea. Her steps grew reluctant.

A wild gust thumped her against the cliff. It might just as easily have carried her over the edge. The weather was deteriorating rapidly. She moved on and knew that she was failing. If I keep going, Tiaan thought, I’m going to die.

She headed back. Better the risk of the lyrinx than certain death by freezing. It might hold to its word. Might be a creature of honour. The cold and wind was indifferent. It would kill her and scream defiance over her body.

Head down, Tiaan plodded into the wind. Snow clotted in her eyes, making it impossible to see. It seemed much further, going back. Surely she’d walked a thousand paces and still there was no sign of the place. Plod, plod, one foot after another. Trudge, trudge, ice crystals growing on her eyebrows, her ears going numb. Every step took an effort of will.

At last she saw the tree. The door could be no more than a hundred steps away. She counted each step to make sure. The weather had closed in, but even so, by the time she had reached ninety Tiaan expected to see the door. It should be a black hole in the grey mountainside. She went down a slope. One hundred, one hundred and one … Had she left the door open, or closed? If it was closed she would never find it. Ajar, Tiaan thought, but it was difficult to remember. Her brain felt like a frozen sponge.