Alchymist (16 page)

Flangers
groaned and opened his eyes. 'Bloody hell're yer doin'?' he slurred. 'Get yer
hand outta me leg.' A comical expression crossed his face, as if he had just
realised what a stupid thing he'd said, and his eyes closed.

There
came a faint, fluttering sound from out in the abyss. Irisis held up the
lantern, but saw nothing. It must have been the rope scraping across the cliff
face.

Lacking
anything to sew him up with, she bound Flangers's leg with strips of cloth
until the wound closed and the blood flow dropped to a trickle. Irisis tied
another pad across the top.

'Flangers!'
she said urgently. 'You've got to stand up.'

He
didn't open his eyes. 'Can't.'

'It's
your soldier's duty, Flangers.'

The
soldier wept with pain as he struggled to get to his feet. Irisis crouched and
gave him her shoulder, heaving him up with one arm around his muscled waist.
They staggered between the spikes to the edge, swaying while she waved the
lantern around, looking for the rope. It wasn't there.

'Myrum?'
Her voice echoed shrilly.

There
was a long pause before he answered. 'Yes?'

'I've
got Flangers. He's badly injured. Where's the bloody rope?'

'It's
coming. I've . . , had a few problems up here.'

Again
that fluttering sound, a whispering echo back and forth in the crevasse.
Sympathetic shudders fluttered down her spine.

1Hurry
it up. I've got a nasty feeling about this place.'

The
end appeared, wriggling like a brown snake in the lamplight. Setting down the lantern,
Irisis pulled the rope as far as it would go and looped it around the soldier's
chest. Flangers was just clinging to consciousness. His fingers dug into her
shoulders and his knees flexed as he swayed, but the rest of him had shut down.

It
was hard work tying a secure knot with his weight on her, but she managed it at
last. "It's done. Pull him up!'

The
rope went taut. 'He's a heavy sod!' Myrum's voice echoed down.

Get
Fyn-Mah to help you.'

'She's
passed out.'

The
fluttering sounded again, closer, followed by a scraping sound like a
fingernail on rock. Or a claw.

'Hurry
up,' she shouted, unable to keep the fear out of her voice. 'That lyrinx is
still alive.'

Flangers
jerked up, stopped, jerked again. Blood running down his leg began to drip off
the toe of his boot. She watched him pass through the circle of light, then
directed the lantern around and below her, trying to pick the creature out.
Maybe it wasn't the lyrinx. Worse creatures dwelt in the abysses of the world,
creeping about their unknown and unpleasant business. All sorts of beasts had
made their way to Santhenar when the Way between the Worlds was open, and at
other times in the mythical past. Not all of them wanted to wage war, as the
lyrinx did. But if they were disturbed, if they felt threatened . ..

'Stop
it!' Irisis said aloud. 'Don't make things worse than they need to be. It's
just the lyrinx.'

Just
the lyrinx! There was no such thing as just a lyrinx, even if it was injured
and unable to use the Secret An. She scanned the gulf again, but finding a
dark-skinned creature against the blackness was impossible. Her lantern began
to flutter, making threatening shadows. She sloshed it back and forth: not much
oil left.

Another
scrape, much closer, followed by a deep rumbling purr. She still couldn't judge
the direction, but it wasn't far away.

'Where
are you?' she screamed. 'Show yourself!'

The
echoes had a strident tone that frightened her. She was losing it. Stay calm — you've
been in dangerous situations before and got out of them. You can do it again.
It didn't help. Irisis was at her best when she could react swiftly to danger;
she didn't like waiting. It allowed her to dwell on her inadequacies.

Well,
do something. Take the initiative. Don't just stand there moaning.

Drawing
her sword, Irisis swished it back and forth. It made a comforting sound as it
sliced through the air. Pity she'd had so little training with it. If only she
had a crossbow. Irisis had done most of her manufactory training with that
weapon and was a fine shot, though of course she had to see her target. The
lyrinx was not so handicapped. It could smell her well enough to strike in the
dark.

'How's
it going, Myrum?'

'Nearly
done. He's a heavy bugger.'

She
started to say, 'Hurry it up,' but broke off. Myrum was doing all he could, and
he was injured too. Irisis paced back and forth on the platform. It was shaped
like a stepped brain studded with spikes, which restricted her movement
considerably. About to smash them down, she realised that they would also
restrict the movement of the lyrinx, though it could probably take the risk of
crushing them under its armour.

Irisis
had not heard the fluttering for a while now, which was even more worrying. Why
was the creature taking so long?

Lacking
the Art to support itself, it would have fallen a long way. What she'd heard
must have been its death throes. As she picked up the lantern to look down, the
flickering light went out. Irisis clicked the flint striker, to no effect. The
oil was gone.

Moodily,
she tossed the lantern over the edge. It fell for several heartbeats before the
glass smashed on something, and several more beats before crashing, rolling and
banging all the way to the bottom.

'You
all right, Crafter?' Myrum's voice echoed hollowly.

'Oil's
run out. Where's the rope?'

'It's
coming now.'

The
darkness was not perfect. When she looked straight up, Irisis could see a
feeble illumination. Myrum must have lit another lantern. Feeling her way to
the brink, she peered over. Below her, a faint light appeared then vanished, like
the reflection in a staring eye.

She
looked away, and back. There it was again, shining steadily. Irisis felt in the
air for the rope. She could hear it whispering down the sheer face above her.

Snap!
That was a pitch-spine breaking off. She would know that sound anywhere. Snap!
Snap! The lyrinx wasn't dead — it was coming for her.

Irisis
reached up for the rope but couldn't find it. She waved arm and sword in the
air. The tip of the sword met a slight resistance. Her fingertips just caught
the rope's end and she pulled it down.

Behind
her a great shadow rose, one wing spread, the other folded. More spines
snapped. She whirled. Forests of them went down as it crunched across the mound
towards her. It was taking its time, watching her all the way, and still she
could not see it.

Irisis
felt the air swirl; smelled the hot breath of the creature. No time to tie on;
she let go the rope and swung the sword in a low, vicious arc. The shadow,
definitely a lyrinx, kept coming. Her sword struck it on its armoured thigh,
wedging there.

'Crafter!'
Myrum called urgently.

She
had no time to answer. Jerking her blade free, Irisis took a step backwards and
froze. She was standing on the brink. Could she lure it over? Unlikely. Lyrinx
could see better in the dark than humans. She went sideways, fixing the
location of the rope in her mind. It would be difficult to find again, if she
lost it.

Irisis
stumbled against a miniature pitch spike, too black to see. She hacked at the
shadow, again connecting with its thigh plate. The lyrinx slashed back, though
feebly. It must be badly injured: Irisis tried a higher swipe and this time the
tip of the sword carved through softness. It had gone between two belly plates.
Something gurgled; she hoped it was the creature's intestines.

The
shadow slumped, panting. Irisis thrust the sword into its sheath, went
backwards to the hanging rope and, by a miracle, found it. She pulled herself
up, hand over hand, as far as she could go. Not far enough. Her arms didn't
have the strength for rope-climbing and the swinging bag was pulling her down.
It was all she could do to hold on.

The
lyrinx sprang at her, missed, and its fingers brushed the rope. One hard pull
and it would have her, and Myrum, over the side. Irisis twisted the rope around
her left wrist a few times, hung on with her knees and slashed below her with
the sword.

She
missed. The lyrinx caught the rope end and began to pull, but very gently.
First the phynadr, then her. She drew the length of the blade across the rope,
below her knees. It parted and the lyrinx fell back, smashing a thicket of
spikes. Irisis hauled herself up another arm's length but could go no further.

'Myrum,'
she screamed. 'Pull me up, quick! The bloody lyrinx's right here.'

Silence.
The rope jerked up a little way and stopped. The lyrinx lurched at her and
missed, its eyes fixed on her as it gathered itself for another attempt. Irisis
could only hold the sword pointed downwards, and pray.

Again
it sprang, its claws whistling through the air just below the hanging bag. She
pulled it up. One claw tore open the side of her boot, before ripping it off.
She threw the other one at it, but missed.

'Myrum!'
she wailed. 'Pull your heart out or I'm dead.'

The
rope moved up again, as much as a couple of spans, before stopping. It was
enough to get her out of the creature's reach, though Irisis began to fear
that, with his broken ribs, Myrum was incapable of lifting her higher. What if
he'd been slain and a lyrinx was now hauling her up? Her empty stomach
contracted. That possibility had not occurred to her before.

Something
winked in the dim light before whirring past her ear. The lyrinx had thrown a
shard of pitch at her. Another spun to one side. They were poor projectiles,
difficult to aim.

The
rope began to creep up and Irisis dared to hope that she might make it after
all. Then the fluttering began again and she heard a whooshing sound, as of a
breath rapidly exhaled. What was it up to now?

With
a deeper, gasping whoosh and a creaking flutter, the lyrinx lifted off. It
moved out into the dim lantern light, its wings clubbing the air so violently
that she was buffeted from side to side on the rope. How the beast had managed
it she would never know, for one wing was torn in two places and its
blood-covered head was the wrong shape, as if stoved in when it had fallen into
the chasm. And since it could not use the Secret Art here, it must be flying on
sheer indomitable will.

Struck
with terrified admiration, she watched it drive through the air towards her, only
courage keeping that heavy body aloft. Surelv there had never been such a feat
until now.

Her
strength was fading- Even with both hands, she could barely hold on. There was
no possibility of defending herself with the sword, so she sheathed it. Rising
fumes whipped past her face, making her eyes water. Pulling up the frayed end
of the rope, Irisis made a quick knot around her waist, one-handed, in case she
lost her grip when the beast attacked. It was staggering through the air, now
rising, now falling, but always heading for her.

She
looked up. No way to tell who, or what, was lifting her. The lyrinx rose above
her, struggling to grip the air. Now it plunged, though by her rather than at
her. It did not want to lose the prize.

Irisis
tried to sway the rope out of the way. It moved but not far enough. The lyrinx
caught her by the arm. She tore free, which must have upset the creature's
delicate equilibrium for it veered off, flapping furiously.

Now
it attacked from the other side. Strands of luminous saliva hung from its open
mouth. It was tiring rapidly. She watched it come. If it was so easily
disturbed, a more direct attack might just tip the balance.

It
swooped. She doubled up her legs and shot them out at its head, as she'd done
when a lyrinx attacked her at the manufactory last winter. The rope went the
other way and her powerful kick ended up as no more than a tap on the jaw.
Irisis lost her grip, fell and, caught by the knot around her waist, flipped
upside down.

The
lyrinx's teeth snapped together, it swung its left arm but just failed to
snatch the bag from her belt. The rope slipped and she thought she was going to
fall head-first all the way down into that fiery crack, but it pulled tight. It
held.

Irisis
swung back and forth without the strength to heave herself upright. The lyrinx
came again, a last desperate effort.

Ropes
of clotted saliva oozed down its mighty chest. With a hoarse, despairing cry,
it lunged for the bag that now hung by her shoulder.

'Help!'
she wailed, staring at the flickering light just a few spans above. An
unidentifiable figure swayed there, swinging something around its head like a
cannonball in a sling. The object hurtled down, looking for all the world like
a human head. I must be hallucinating, Irisis thought, as the object struck the
lyrinx on its brow ridge. Red showered into its eyes.

The
lyrinx gagged, the wings missed a beat, it slid sideways into the sheer black
face, and fell out of sight.