Alchymist (45 page)

Again
that whisper. He kept going, gaining the shelter of the next pinnacle without
further incident. This one was just rock; no inner bones. Stepping into the
shadow, he looked up. Was that something in the tree; a shadow of wings? No,
just a shape made by the branches. The sound must have been an owl.

There
was nothing to be seen, no matter how carefully he looked, but something was
different. Though Nish had no talent for the Art, he could feel a subtle strain
and a distortion of the darkness, which he imagined was a drain in the ethyr.

There
was still quite a way to go. Ahead lay the open area, sparsely studded with
rock pinnacles. Beyond that was a strip of forest, the cleared expanse with the
first set of pinnacles, and, further on, the other wood beyond which Troist's
army lay hidden under its cloaking spell. He prayed that it still held.

Each
step seemed to take an hour, but he made it across into the forest, and through
it to the next pinnacle field. As he stepped into the rustling grass on the
other side, something sharp jabbed him in the back.

'Don't
move, spy, or you're dead.'

Nish
went very still. 'I'm not a spy.' he said in a low voice. 'I'm Cryl-Nish Hlar
and I've been on a secret mission for the scrutator.'

The
spear point went through his clothes, breaking the skin above his right
buttock. 'Is that so?' the soldier hissed. 'Then explain why Scrutator Flydd
has got the whole camp looking for you.'

'I..,
don't know.' For once Nish could not think of a single excuse. I think you'd
better take me to him, soldier.'

'I'm
going to. If you try to escape, my friend, you'll get this right up your
liver.'

By
the time they found Flydd, who was with General Troist, Nish had half a dozen
throbbing gouges in his back, low down, and one in each buttock. He made a
mental note to return the favour, if he ever got the opportunity.

'Where
the bloody hell did you get to?' the scrutator said furiously as Nish was
prodded into the clanker.

'I
found him sneaking through the forest, surr,' said the soldier, giving Nish
another jab in the bum for good measure. 'He's been spying—'

'I
have vital news, surr,' Nish interrupted. 'It can't wait for anything.'

'Thank
you, soldier,' Flydd interrupted. 'That will be all.'

Nish
waited until the man had gone, then moved gingerly into the centre of the
clanker.

'Well?'
snapped Flydd.

'I've
just escaped from my father.'

'What?'
cried Flydd and Troist together.

'You
bloody fool!' Flydd went on. 'This is the end, Nish. If you've given us away,
I'll hang you with your own intestines—'

'I
didn't mean to go anywhere. I was all knotted up inside, and couldn't sleep, so
I went for a walk and—'

'This
had better be good, Artificer,' growled Troist.

'It's
important, surr,' cried Nish. 'The fate of an army hangs on my news.'

'And
the fate of a man on my whim,' Flydd said darkly. "Spill it, Nish, and be
quick about it.'

Nish
explained how he'd come to leave the camp and end up near the escarpment, what
he'd seen there and how he'd fallen into Jal-Nish's hands, and then, what his
father had said and done to him. Flydd and Troist exchanged glances and Nish
knew they believed him. 'But surr,' Nish dropped his voice, 'there's something
I must speak to you privately about.'

'I'm
sure it's nothing that General Troist can't hear.’

Nish
hesitated. 'I.., believe it is, surr.' He looked anxiously from one man to the
other. 'It has to do with a remarkable form of the Secret Art, if you take my
meaning.'

'I've
a hundred things to do before the morrow,' said the general. 'Not to mention
getting a few minutes' sleep. I'll leave you for the moment.' He went out.

'Get
on with it!' Flydd snarled. 'And don't ever do such a stupid thing again or
you'll suffer more than a spear point in the bum.'

Nish
moved close, speaking softly. 'My father has the tears of the node, surr. Both
of them.'

'So
it was Jal-Nish,' Flydd breathed. 'He killed them all: the soldiers, the dogs
and the poor pilot, to make sure no one would ever know. And no one would have.
As the node cooled, the walls would have collapsed and buried any remains. Tell
me, what was Jal-Nish like?'

'Cold;
bitter; implacable. I could make no impression on him, but one thing was
clear—'

'Yes?'
Flydd rapped.

'He
wants to be chief scrutator, and to revenge himself on his enemies,
particularly Irisis.'

And
me.'

'No,
surr.'

'Why
not?' cried Flydd as though it was a mortal insult.

'I
told him you were dead, surr. Of blood poisoning.'

'You
what?'

'Dead,
surr. As a maggot!' Nish took a wry pleasure in put-ting it that way.

'Why?'
snapped Flydd. 'Who gave you leave to lie to a scrutator?'

It
seemed like a good idea at the time, surr' Did it now?' Flydd considered. Perhaps
it was. So Jal-Nish has the tears. What for, I wonder? He cannot be allowed to
command the scrutators. They have more power at their disposal than anyone
realises, even without these glorious, perilous tears. Tfell me everything he
said.'

Nish
related what had happened. 'And at the end, he thrust my hands into the tears,
and I felt the most extraordinary sensations. Everything that was black became
white, each colour took on the hue of its opposite. I saw right through to the
bones of my father's arm and he said, "I have woken you,
Cryl-Nish!".' 'Go on.'

'He
said, "You'll see horrors no one has ever seen before.

You'll
hear what has previously been unheard. And you'll feel — well, I leave that to
you to discover. The gift of the tears is not predictable. But you'll know what
it is like to suffer. You will know what it is like to be your father, as you
stand beside me for the rest of your life."'

Flydd
took a step backwards, regarding him uncertainly.

then
he just let you go?'

'No —
he was behind me, casting some kind of spell. His tabble contained all sorts of
alchymical apparatus — stills, retorts—'

'I
should have thought of that,' muttered Flydd. 'What is it, surr?'

His
particular Art is alchymical in nature, and what better By to enhance it than
through the tears, which represent nature's purification and distillation of
the essence of a node.

They
would fit his Art like a glove. It's worse than I thought.

The
tears could make him too powerful. What did he do then?'

'He
cast his spell, to corrupt me and make me his servant, but it didn't take.'

'Not
even with the power of the tears?' said Flydd, aston-ished. 'Why ever not?'

'I've
no idea, but he seemed disconcerted. He had to do it three times.'

He's
not not yet mastered the tears, evidently. And then?' 'He forced an aichymical
potion down my throat. . . What is it, su rr?' Flydd was looking at him
suspiciously.

And
then?'

'Father
ordered Xabbier to take me to the brig and hold me in solitary confinement
until the morning, so the spell would have time to set. But Xabbier had heard
all he'd said and done to me. He forced me to vomit up the potion right away.'

'He
did?' Flydd said gladly. 'I'd like to meet this friend of yours.'

'I
hope he's still alive. When Jal-Nish finds out . . .' Nish related how Xabbier had
helped him to escape.

'I
see. Is that all?' Flydd seemed to be regarding him ambiguously.

'Not
quite.'

'I
can't imagine anything worse.'

'I
was coming back, through a great field of limestone pinnacles,' Nish began,
'which lie near the edge of the escarpment. The tears must have changed me,
somehow, for I realised that I could see right into the stone. But it was not
stone inside.'

Flydd
was staring at Nish as though seeing him in a new light. 'What did you see,
Nish?'

'I
saw the skeletons of lyrinx, and their beating hearts. Uncounted thousands of
them lie hidden within stone pinnacles above the southern escarpment, near the
army camp and,, for all I know, as many on the eastern and northern sides. The
beasts must have been stone-formed, surr. It's an ambush and, if we don't warn
him, Jal-Nish's army will be annihilated to the last man.'

Flydd
threw his arms around Nish, hugging him to his scarred and scrawny chest. As
abruptly he let go. 'Would that I had a son, and you were he.'

Nish's
hands fell by his sides; he was astounded, and so proud that his eyes flooded
with tears. He wasn't a complete failure after all.

Before
he could say anything Flydd ran to the hatch, bellowing, 'Troist, quickly!'

The
general threw himself in. What is it, surr?' The enemy are between us and
Jal-Nishs army. They've stone-formed themselves into limestone pinnacles above
the main camp. It's a trap. Break camp; we must leave immediately and march
through the night to Gumby Marth.' 'How many were there?' said Troist.

'I
couldn't be sure,' said Nish. 'Tens of thousands, like as not.'

'Why
this way?' said Troist. 'Why not fly in an army at night, from across the sea?'

'Most
lyrinx aren't fliers,' said Flydd. 'They wouldn't have enough of them to attack
an army this size. And even a short flight would weaken them. This way they can
appear out of nowhere, without warning. And remember the fliers we saw near the
exploded node, Nish? They may have guessed Jal-Nish has the, er . . , secret
weapon, and know they have to ambush the army to succeed. I'd better check the
cloaker.

The
original spell wasn't designed for this big a force, or an enemy so near, and
it would take a dozen mancers working together to make it so.'

'It
was still holding the last time I spoke to Nutrid,' said Troist.

'It
could feather around the edges without him knowing.

Besides,
the enemy's stone-forming must take much from the field. If it's drawn down too
far, the cloaker won't conceal us.'

'We'll
march at once.' Troist threw up the rear hatch, snapped orders to a messenger
waiting outside and turned to the chart on the table. 'What if we head west,
this way, and cross into Gumby Marth below the neck? When the enemy attack,
they'll hold it, so as to trap Jal-Nish's forces inside. If you keep the
escapeway open, the army will have a chance.'

How
far is it?'

Troist
was busy with his dividers. 'It's four leagues before we can get into the
valley, then another two back to the neck. A brutal forced march and the
clankers will be slower than the men.'

‘Can
we do it by mid-morning?' said Flydd.

'We
have to find a way through rugged country in the dark. I don't know how long
it'll take.'

'Try
very hard, General. If we're too late, there won't be any point.'

'We'll
do our best, surr, though we won't be in prime condition when we get there.'

'Just
as long as we do get there. And we'll have to send someone to warn Jal-Nish.
Someone he'll believe.'

Nish's
skin crawled, but he knew duty when it faced him. 'I — I'd better go, surr.'

'I
need you here,' said Flydd.

'Do
you think I want to go? It's a tricky passage through the pinnacles in the
dark, and the path down the escarpment is not easily found. We can't risk the
messenger getting lost. The enemy could be breaking out already.'

'If
they are, you're dead, Nish.'

'And
so is everyone else.'

'I
won't risk it,' said Flydd. 'Jal-Nish could be calling you back.'

'I
don't think so. When he did it before, it made my skin tingle.'

'He's
cunning, Nish. He might change the compulsion each time. And once he sees you
again, you'll be powerless to escape him.'

'Then
you'll have to free me, surr.'

'I
still don't like it.'

'I've
got to warn them, surr I — I've a lot to atone for.'

Flydd
stared at Nish for a second, then nodded. 'Yes, go!' He gave him his hand. 'I
hope we meet again.'

'So
do I,' said Troist. 'I really do. Take this.' He handed Nish a piece of rolled
flatbread stuffed with spiced ground meat, and a skin of sour beer, the weak
kind soldiers were given on I the march when the water was not fit to drink.
'Ill send someone with you to the edge of the watch.'

'I'd
appreciate that, surr.' Nish munched on the roll. 'My backside isn't feeling so
hot.'

He
felt better with food in his belly. The beer did not improve matters, however,
so after a couple of swigs he slung it over his shoulder for later. The guard,
a small man whose brreath whistled in his nose, said no word ail the way
through the forest and into the pinnacles beyond. At their furthest edge he
left Nish silently.