Alchymist (57 page)

Finally,
in the middle of the day, in spite of the reek of vomit, he slept. He slept all
through that day and woke after midnight, not that he could tell, then slept
again. It had been weeks since he'd had a full night's rest.

He
was woken by cries and an almighty crash that spun him full circle in his
hammock. The other occupants of the hold were not as lucky. He heard thuds and
groans. Another crash, not so loud, made everyone cry out. Nish fell out of the
hammock onto someone, who groaned. Picking the man up, Nash stood on shaky legs
and made for the ladder Crash, crash, crash. It sounded as if the ship were
beating itself to death. He made the deck, which was tilted at the angle of a
slippery-dip. They had run full tilt onto a rocky reef in the night, and it was
all that was keeping the ship from going to the bottom.

Huge
waves broke in a curving line from one side of the reef to the other. Each
breaker lifted the ship and drove it fur ther onto the spine of the rocks,
wedging the timbers apart. After each wave, the vessel was lower in the water.
On the seaward side, the sailors had managed to launch a boat. Half a dozen
jumped in, took the oars and clawed at the water. The boat moved out into the
wind and was driven away. Nish soon lost sight of it in the towering waves. He
peered over the side. Men were struggling in the water and being crushed
between the boat and the reef. 'Scrutator!' he yelled.

No
answer. 'Scrutator? Flydd?'

He
put his head down into the hold and screamed Flydd's name. No answer from there
either. Nish was about to go down when he saw him, clinging to the shrouds at
the stern, Nish ran that way. 'What's the matter?'

'The
reef seemed to come up out of the water,' said the scrutator. 'Got a prize bang
on the head. I'm all right.' 'Where are we?'

'Middle
of bloody nowhere.' 'Any chance of the other boats rescuing us?' 'They wouldn't
know where to look.' 'Hadn't we better try and get the people in the hold out?'
'They'll have a better death down there,' said the scrutator, watching an
enormous wave moving towards them. 'Look at the sea pounding at the reef. It'll
tear us to pieces.' 'I'll just go down for my sword.' It was his most precious
possession. 'I won't be a—' The stern was tossed up on the wave, lifting them
into the air, then the whole vessel was thrust sideways. When they came down,
there was nothing under them but water.

It
was nearly as perishing as the sea at Tiksi. Nish, a poor swimmer and prone to
panic, thrashed at the water. Something thumped him in the ear. 'Stop, you
fool,' screamed the scrutator. 'Hang onto this.'

It
was a plank or rib torn from the boat. Nish threw his arms around it. The
scrutator turned on his side and kicked. The next wave pulled them out, away
from the rocks. Flydd paddled furiously towards a streak of white and caught a
current, which carried them through a gap in the reef.

The
water was desperately cold — so cold that, no matter how hard Nish fought it,
the will to survive began to slip away. Flydd tied him to the beam and kept
slapping his face till he roused.

Nish
endured as best he could. The rest of the night, long or short, was a daze.
Near dawn, he realised that the pounding was not his heart, but surf breaking
on a shore. The waves carried them in and dumped them, tearing Nish away from
the plank. The water rolled him over and over, before depositing him halfway up
a gritty beach.

Flydd
got him up, and Nish had enough strength to crawl up out of the surf zone and
flop down in the sand. That was all he could do.

'You
say you love me, Minis, but after what you've done, I need more than oaths. If
you do love me, prove it with action not with words!'

Hope
flared in his brown eyes and she felt guilty. There was no hope for him.

'I
will', said Minis, 'as long as you don't ask me to betray foster-father, or my
own kind.'

Yet
again he equivocated — anything that helped her could be seen as a betrayal of
the Aachim. 'What's going to happen to me once Urien comes back?'

'Vithis
will release you, I suppose.'

Clearly
he'd not thought about it. 'He'll never release me, Minis. I must remain a
prisoner of the Aachim all my life, and be watched night and day lest I smuggle
out a message. Or...?' She left it hanging. 'Foster-father is an honourable
man.'

'Vithis
is not an honourable man; he's shown that many times. Besides, he doesn't have
to kill me with his own hands. All he need do is indicate that I'm a problem,
and plenty of Aachim would dispose of me, just to gain his favour. To your kind
we old humans are little better than vermin, for all that I saved your lives.'
'It's not so,' he whispered.

'Once
Urien returns, I'll be under a death sentence. No one will be able to save me
then. But you can save me now.’

'At
the price of betraying Foster-father,' he said bitterly. 'I will be ruined in
his eyes.'

He'll
get over, it. You're all he has. You must stand up to him, Minis. He'll think
more of you for it.'

'You
don't know him.'

'You
say you love me, you've sworn to save me, but you qualify it every time. Prove
your love — help me to escape. If you do I'll give myself to you, soul and
body. Fail me and you collude in my death sentence.'

Minis
could not meet her eyes. He marched up and down the tent, casting glances just
shy of her direction. 'You do not, you cannot know what you are asking.'

She
allowed him no respite. 'All I'm asking for,' Tiaan said sweetly, 'is my life.'

'At
the price of my honour.’

'How
will your honour withstand my execution?' she snapped.

'Please,
Tiaan. It hurts to hear you speak that way.'

'How
else should I speak to a man who professes love but won't lift a finger to save
my life. You're pathetic, Minis. You're not a man at all — you're a snivelling
child.'

'That's
not true, Tiaan' he wept. 'I do love you.'

'Then
save me.'

His
face became dark, congested. The veins in his neck throbbed. 'Ah,
Foster-father, what am I to do?'

'Run
away with me. Now!'

'I
can't get you out of the camp. Every construct must have a pass, and every
person in it.'

'But
surely, as Vithis's son . . .?'

'He
doesn't trust me with you. But maybe, in a few days' time—'

'Tomorrow
will be our last day, as you know very well. The camp is nearly empty. There
are only eighty-nine constructs to go. After tomorrow we'll be in the main camp
and they won't let me near one. You can't put it off, Minis. Once Vithis comes
back, it'll be too late.'

'But
what can I do?' he wailed.

Tiaan
wanted to hit him. It's my life! Doesn't that mean anything to you? She closed
her eyes, thinking desperately. She'd tried everything with Minis, but he was
too cowed by Vithis. There was only one option left, though it went utterly
against her nature. She'd have to really hurt him. 'Nothing!' she said with all
the sarcasm she could muster. It was not strong enough. She had to shake him to
his toes. 'You can't save me because you don't have the balls, Minis. You're a
boy trying to fit into your foster-father's pants, but you don't have what it
takes to fill them. No wonder Vithis holds you in such contempt.'

He
reeled. 'You are cruel, Tiaan.' She stared him down. The time for words was
over. 'I.. , may be able to do something,' he said. 'Tomorrow, when you're
towing the last of the constructs. I'll try then.' 'Try what?' She did not
allow herself to hope — Minis had let her down too many times.

We'll
stop midway. I'll find a way to distract the guards. I'll unfasten the tether,
as if to check something. We'll have to be quick, but we can do it.'

Tiaan
hadn't thought that she would ever convince him. 'You're sure?' 'Yes. My mind
is made up.'

'Oh.
Minis.' Pushing herself up in bed, she reached out to him.

He
threw his arms around her and wept, which made her feel even more guilty.

'I'm
sorry for doubting you, Minis,' she said. 'I was so afraid.' Tiaan looked up at
him and, acting purely on impulse, pressed her lips to his.

She'd
not kissed a man before and did not expect anything of it. The kiss was like
touching an electric eel. It sensitised her whole body and, when they parted,
her lips felt swollen to three times their normal size. She saw the desire in
his eyes and for an instant Tiaan was tempted, but only ill could come of that.
'Take me home, please,' she said. 'First the proof.'

Tiaan
was woken at dawn by an Aachim she did not recognise. 'Where's Minis?' she
said.

He
has other business to attend to.'

Tiaan
took that as a sign that Minis had taken the coward's way out after all. By the
time the sun rose she was getting ready to haul the chain of sixty constructs
to safety, the second-last trip. The crystals of her helm had been freshly
charged in the black tesseract. The Aachim guard carried her to the construct,
lifted her in and after that never moved from her side. Minis must have
betrayed her plan.

Two
hours later, the sixty constructs had been delivered safely to the southern
camp and the Aachim there were all smiles. The rescue, which few had ever
believed possible, was almost complete. Only twenty-nine machines to go. She
returned to Snizort. The tents had been packed and the remaining Aachim, all
but her two guards being from Clan Elienor, were waiting in their constructs.
The war camp had disappeared, the only evidence of it the flattened grass, the
humps of the infilled latrine trenches and, in the distance, the memorial
pavilion beside the battlefield.

It
was past lunchtime. As the constructs were being cabled up, Minis appeared.

'I'll
take the last set,' he said to Tiaan's guard. 'It'll give you the chance to
ready your own gear.' The fellow nodded and sprang down.

Tiaan
sat in the machine, eating bread and sausage. 'I've nothing to say to you,
Minis,' she said as he climbed up.

'I've
found a way to save you. It's all planned.'

She
was unable to believe, unable to trust. 'How?'

'We'll
take the constructs halfway, then stop as if there's a problem. I'll call to
the first construct to check the cable. As soon as he unfastens it, we'll
flee.'

Tiaan
had had time to anticipate all the problems. 'It's not much of a plan. If the
constructs fire before we're out of range, we won't have a chance.' They didn't
need the field for that, their catapults and spear-throwers being mechanically
operated. But she hadn't come up with anything better, and once she towed the
last set of constructs to the southern field it would be too late.

He
stared into her eyes, quivering with emotion. 'You must trust me, Tiaan. I'm
prepared to renounce my birthright for you.'

The
declaration failed to comfort her as he'd hoped. It was to for Minis. Whatever
he did, she would find fault with it. I've become a monster, she thought.
There's no way back now.

'Very,
well,' she said. 'We'll do it.'

The
cable was attached to the first construct, and from it to the two lines of the
others. 'Wait one moment,' said Minis.

'What
is it?' 'You'll see.'

The
Aachim were calling to one another and two of them began walking, five or six
paces apart, in the direction of the distant pavilion. Both wore helms not
unlike the one Tiaan used, and the woman on the right held out a rod-like
object, which she pointed towards the pavilion. The man on her left did the
same.

Someone
behind them called a series of Aachim words that she did not recognise,
followed by one she did. 'Now!'

A
blue ray shot out from the woman's rod and a green ray from the man's. Where
they intersected, above the pavilion, the air shimmered. There came a distant
sound of thunder and a glimmering dome formed, swelling until it covered a good
part of the battlefield where the Aachim had fought. Coloured lines writhed
across it, like tamed lightning. 'It's beautiful,' said Tiaan, 'but what is
it?'

'Let
me see.' Minis lifted the helm off her head and put it on his own. 'Ah, what a
marvel they've built!' He passed the helm back to her. 'It's a kind of
protection — to keep out intruders and scavengers until we find a way to
retrieve our dead, and our constructs. Now we can go.'

The
protection had vanished as soon as the helm was taken off Tiaan's head. She put
it on, took one last look at the shimmering luminescence of the dome, and
reached for the controls. Tiaan eased her machine into motion, uncomfortable about
placing her life in Minis's unreliable hands. What if this passion wore off, or
he got cold feet again? She must be prepared to act on her own, the instant an
opportunity came.

Within
minutes her head was throbbing, for she wasn't able to give her full attention
to the task. Tiaan rubbed her temples and allowed the fields to fade from her
mind. The relief was almost painful. In spite of the helm and the techniques
she'd been taught, holding five fields at once was a killing strain.