Ian Irvine - Geomancer

‘I can see three lyrinx now …’

‘What?’ cried Irisis, for he had fallen silent.

He took a long while to answer, and she heard his amusement, getting his own back on her. Irisis, in no mood for it, jabbed him in the ribs. ‘A flurry of snow,’ Nish said. ‘I can’t see anything.’

The clanker roared around in a wide circle before stopping abruptly. They could hear fighting over the wind – the bellowing of lyrinx, the clash of sword on armoured skin, screams of agony – some human, others not. Irisis leapt out.

‘Where are you going?’ yelled Nish.

‘After the crystal. Stay here. Look after Ullii.’

‘But …’ Nish began.

‘Someone’s got to guard her, and the clanker. And who’s to say you won’t be in more danger than I am?’

That was true enough. Anything might happen. Somebody had given Nish a short sword, which he drew. He was competent in the weapon, for a civilian. Few people were not, in these times, though he had not handled one in ages. He’d neglected his practice, working so hard at being an artificer. Nish regretted that now.

It was hard to see. The wind had come up with the dawn and the air was full of drifting snow. Nish climbed onto the clanker, next to the shooter, Pur-Did, whose javelard was aimed at the ice houses some thirty or forty paces away. Too close, Nish thought. A lyrinx could cross that distance in a few seconds.

He caught sight of a squad of soldiers hacking at the blocked entrance of the central snilau. Good, Nish thought. This will soon be over and we can go home.

A wild melee began outside the right-hand snilau, whose roof had collapsed. Two lyrinx were fighting five or six soldiers who had discarded their skis and were attempting to trap the enemy against the wall. They were handicapped by the deep snow.

The lyrinx went backwards, not seeming to defend themselves. ‘They don’t appear as tough as I’ve been told,’ said Nish. ‘They …’

One lyrinx did a backward somersault, landed on the rubble of ice blocks and, in a series of movements too quick to follow, hurled blocks the size of sheep at three of his opponents. One ducked, receiving only a blow on the shoulder. The other two, struck in the middle, went down.

The second lyrinx leapt among the other three and with quick swipes sent two of them flying. Blood sprayed through the air. The last man on his feet back-pedalled and began to run. The lyrinx hurled one of the bodies at him, bringing him down. The soldier stuck the lyrinx with his sword as it came for him, but it did not stop the creature.

The other had already finished off his three opponents. Nish felt sick. Six soldiers dead and it had taken only a minute. As the second lyrinx straightened up, the javelard snapped. The missile went through the lyrinx’s chest and out the other side. It fell among the bodies.

The other lyrinx looked up. Pur-Did furiously cranked his winder but the beast, after a swift look at them, ran towards the central ice house.

‘After him!’ Nish called down through the hatch.

‘My orders are to remain here unless one gets away with the artisan,’ said Ky-Ara.

A wild gust raced across the plateau, carrying a cloud of snow. Within seconds Nish could not even see the ground. Wiping snow grit out of his face, he caught the eye of the shooter, who was doing the same.

‘Nice day for it,’ the man said cheerfully, sucking air through his warty nostrils.

‘Yeah! And in a minute we might all be dead, with our guts trailing over the snow.’

‘Could do.’ Pur-Did brushed snow out of his javelard, making sure that nothing could foul the mechanism.

The cloud thinned. Nish scanned the area for enemies. A wild struggle was going on between the ice houses. He looked the other way, in case a lyrinx had sneaked around behind them. Half a dozen soldiers had what appeared to be a very pregnant lyrinx down on her knees, and as he watched they ran her through. Two infants were despatched just as ruthlessly, their heads completely severed from their bodies. The mother gave an agonised scream, then she too was beheaded. Nish could not watch.

Tiaan was woken by thuds and crashes that shook the building. A gloomy light came through the ice. She ran to the entrance but the plug remained in place. ‘Ryll?’ she yelled through the space around the block. ‘What’s happening?’

There was no answer. She heard more thuds, a roar of pain from a lyrinx, higher screams. With a hiss-thump , something came through the wall, pinning the bearskin to the floor. It was a spear from a clanker javelard.

Tiaan did not waste time wondering how she had been tracked, or how they had got clankers up here. Somehow they had, which showed an absolute determination to take her back or destroy her. Why? It could not be because she’d run away from the breeding factory. No runaway was worth such a hunt. Was it because she’d saved the life of the enemy? It could be. The Histories of the lyrinx wars contained many tales of treachery and, whatever it took, the traitors were always hunted down. The Council of Scrutators believed in making examples.

They must also be hunting her because she was an artisan. The secret of controllers would be invaluable to the enemy and Gi-Had was making sure they did not get it.

Either way she could never go home. And to make matters worse, withdrawal still ebbed and flowed within her. When a pang struck she was incapable of thinking about anything else.

Throwing on her coat, she took up the spear and waited. Faint cries came from outside, and the roars of lyrinx. The building shook as if a catapult ball had struck it. Ice fell from the roof.

The trapped feeling grew. Tiaan hacked at the wall with the spear, but had not made more than a fist-sized indentation when there came a ghastly echoing scream from outside, a lyrinx death-cry, surely.

The sounds of battle continued. Tiaan had just resumed her futile work when the ice plug was thrust in and Ryll’s head appeared. He scrabbled through the gap, kicked the plug back and gasped, ‘Get ready!’

‘My people have come!’ She did not say it with any joy.

‘And they tried to kill you before.’

Ryll began to claw at the wall: across, down, across, up, with the same furious energy as he had shown in scouring his way into her ice sphere after the avalanche. The raking strokes flung ice halfway across the room. There was an intense look on his face that she had not seen before. Fear? Or fury at what was happening outside?

The plug ground forward. Ryll leapt across the room and slammed it back. Anguished cries came from the other side. He jammed the spear into the ice in front of the plug, bound her wrists with a strip of leather and resumed his frantic work.

The plug moved, hit the spear and stopped. His gouges in the wall had now outlined a block almost her size. Putting his shoulder to it, he heaved. The block did not budge. Shaking his head, Ryll gouged faster.

Another blow shook the plug, snapping off the point of the spear. The plug crept forward. Was it better to be captured, or taken by Ryll? Could she escape both? Indecision paralysed her.

The plug was heaved through and a soldier’s head appeared, a savage, bloody, human face. Tiaan shrank away.

The soldier cried, ‘Run, artisan!’

Ryll jerked her against his side. ‘If you want to see your crystal again,’ he said in her ear, ‘you’ll come with me.’

Tiaan tried to swallow. Her dry tongue rasped against the roof of her mouth.

The soldier’s face hardened and he levelled the crossbow. From this distance he could not miss. His finger tightened on the release. Ryll twisted violently but the impact slammed him into the wall and her hand slipped free. A gasp escaped him. The soldier dropped the crossbow and lunged at Ryll with the spear. Ryll slashed and then weaved away, holding his shoulder. The soldier went after him.