Alchymist (58 page)

'What
is it?' Minis said, looking anxious as the note of the construct faded.

'It's
hurting today.' That was true enough. 'It seems harder than before. Maybe the
helm didn't charge fully this morning.'

They
drifted to a stop. Heads appeared at the hatch of the next construct. The two
armed guards in the turret were on alert, their crossbows at the ready. 'Give
me the helm,' he said. 'I'll charge it again.'

She
was reluctant to let it go. 'Why don't you bring the tesseract here?'

'All
right.'

He
signalled for the tesseract, placed the helm inside for the required time, then
withdrew it.

Tiaan
put it on her head. 'That's better,' she said, though it felt the same as
before. 'Is this the time, Minis?''

'Not
yet,' he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. He was sweating so profusely that the
whole front of his shirt was wet -another bad sign. He simply couldn't find the
courage to defy his own people.

The
whine resumed and the construct rose in the air. Behind her she heard the other
machines doing the same. They went another half-league or so. Time was running
out. She must save herself and she had to do it now.

Tiaan
caused the flow of power to rise and fall rapidly, making the constructs jerk
wildly. Behind them, someone roared out a warning in the Aachim tongue.

'Stop!'
cried Minis.

She
pretended to, while making the construct jolt harder. A

loud
crash came from behind. Two machines further back in the line had collided at
high speed. 'What is it?' Tiaan said, cutting off the field, though she knew
full well what had happened.

'I
don't know. I'll have to see what the matter is.'

'This
our chance, Minis.' 'Just a bit further.' He flushed; again he could not meet her
eyes.

It
was over. He was too weak. She had to get him out of the construct, then make
her break, as fast as she could. 'You'd better see how long it'll take to fix
that.' She jerked a thumb at the two constructs, locked together by the impact.
As soon as his feet touched the ground, she would do it. If she ducked down,
they might not get a clean shot. It was a slim hope but it was all she had.

He
began to climb down but the guards shouted and pointed at Tiaan. They weren't
going to leave her by herself in the construct for a second. She cursed as
Minis came back and carried her down to the ground. Another chance gone.

The
Aachim were already gathering around the two con-structs, assessing the damage.
It did not look severe, though it was going to take time to prise them apart.
'Could you put me down in the shade,' said Tiaan. 'It's hot out here; I feel a
little faint.'

Minis
saw no harm in that, since he believed she was unable to walk. He sat her under
a spindly tree about fifteen paces from her construct, and went down the line
to the site of the accident.

Tiaan
flexed her leg muscles. It would be difficult to escape from here, for she was
in full view of the guards in the leading construct, but if they gave her the
slightest chance she was ready.

The
Aachim had brought up metal bars and half a dozen of their strongest were
attempting to pry the two constructs apart. The others, after watching for a
while, went back to their own machines and began spreading cloths on the ground
for lunch. Thyzzea and her family were among them.

The
two guards came down from their turret.. It would have been sweltering up
there, for it was a baking hot day with not a breath of wind. No one was
looking her way. Since they knew she could not walk, there was no chance of her
escaping from where she was. Tiaan was about to get up when one of the guards
checked over his shoulder. Seeing nothing to bother him, he went down to watch
the prising operation.

Tiaan
saw Thyzzea moving in and out between the constructs, coming to carry Tiaan
down to share lunch with the family. She had to go now!

Thyzzea
disappeared between the constructs and Tiaan stood up. Her throat was dry, her
palms damp. She dared not run — the movement would attract attention. She
simply walked casually to her construct and ducked behind it, out of sight.

There
was no outcry. She climbed the side, her hands slipping on the metal rungs,
which were almost too hot to' hold, then went over the top and in.

Tiaan
put on her belt, but as she eased the helm over her head it clinked against the
metal hatch, a noise that would carry a long way. She looked over her shoulder.
Minis's head whipped around but he did not give the alarm. Perhaps he hadn't
seen her. She felt sick. It was now or not at all.

Thyzzea
came out from between the lines of constructs, looking for Tiaan, and saw her
in the construct. She looked distressed, but loyalty to her family and her kind
came first.

'Hoy!'
she roared.

One
of the guards sprang up and, following her outflung arm, sighted with the
crossbow. He lowered it again. Unable to get a clear shot at Tiaan from the
ground, he was running towards the leading construct and his shooter's turret.

'Tiaan,
wait for me,' cried Minis, throwing out his arms like a lover betrayed, as if
he'd planned to save her after all. Had he? She'd never know and could not stop
to find out. If she did, she'd be taken or killed.

Pressing
the helm tightly on her head, Tiaan drew power and directed it all into her
machine. The whine rose to a shriek and the construct surged forward.

'Look
out!' she heard someone cry. There was a momentary resistance as the cable went
taut. She applied more power but it did not pull free as she'd expected. The
construct shuddered, then the amplimet took over, sucking a torrent of power
from the field. She tried to stop it but it was out of control. Never swear on
the amplimet! The construct took off, the cable thrummed then snapped just
behind her, the free end whipping back the other way.

Over
the roar of the mechanism she heard an agonised cry. Turning in a shallow
curve, Tiaan looked back. The flailing cable had caught Minis about the waist
and hip, snatching him off his feet. It whirled him sideways across the
rock-strewn ground, thumping him into one boulder, then another.

Tiaan
gasped and popped the crystal to slow the machine.

Minis
lay unmoving, blood drenching him from the hip down. Even from here she could
see the bone sticking out of his leg.

Had
she killed him? What was she to do?

 Aachim
were running everywhere, shouting. Thyzzea and her father reached Minis, lifted
him to a sitting position, then hastily laid him down again. Thyzzea stood up
and shouted something at her, a cry of rage and betrayal. She, Tiaan, had repaid
their kindness by maiming Minis, and Clan Elienor would be condemned for it.

If
Minis was not dead already, he was surely dying.

Soldiers
raced towards her. A crossbow bolt sang off the hatch just a hand's breadth
from her ear. From the corner of her eye she saw Aachim scrambling into the
weapons turrets. If she was to save herself, she must run for her life and
leave Minis lying on the bloody ground. The thought of Vithis's rage was
terrifying. There was only one thing to do. She slammed the amplimet into its
cavity. Pulling so much power from the nodes that her hair smoked, Tiaan fled
south towards the wilderness.

The
Aachim fired. One or two missiles struck the racing construct but the others
fell behind, then Tiaan was out of range. They could not pursue her — they were
leagues from the nearest field and would have to send a runner to the southern
camp, which must take hours. But once the Aachim knew what she had done,
whether Minis lived or died, they would hunt her to the corners of the globe.

How
had it gone so wrong, so quickly? Perhaps she'd judged Minis too harshly. How
could she have expected him to help her by betraying his own people? And,
having forced him to, the flaws in her own character had been exposed. She was
worse than he was. She was the most contemptible speck of ordure in all
Lauralin.

This
was the worst day of all. Her beloved grandmother had taught her to face her
problems, and Tiaan had always tried to do that. Now she had run away.
Tormented and tormenting herself, she headed south across the plains. After
crossing the Westway that ran south-west towards Gnulp Landing, and northeast
in the direction of Clews Top and The Elbow, and then the River Zort, she
turned west. The original Aachim camp was near Gospett and she must avoid it
too. The town itself had been practically emptied of its population, to drag
the clanker fleet to the node.

This
land, within raiding distance from lyrinx-infested Meldorin, seemed unoccupied.
She saw no sign of human habitation all day. Late in the afternoon she passed
into forest. The field was strong here, so Tiaan travelled as fast as she
could, racing through the trees until it was too dark to see.

The
amplimet was no longer drawing power of its own accord. She stopped the
construct and slumped in the seat, staring into the blackness. She could not
bear to think about what she had become.

Her
brain swarmed with crystal dreams, so guilt-inducing that she forced herself to
wake from them. It was overcast: no stars, no moon, nor any way of telling the
time. The spaces between the trees were as black as the tar pits.

Even
when awake, she kept slipping in and out of those dreams, just as she had that
time at the manufactory, before her calluna-induced madness. Perhaps it really
was crystal fever this time.

Tiaan
could not find it in herself to care. Madness would be an escape; a refuge. She
almost found herself looking forward to it. Until she sensed something.

What
was it? Pulling herself up onto the top of the construct, she stared around
her. Something was definitely different, though she could see nothing, hear
nothing. She slid down, put on the helm and checked the field. It looked the
same as before. Or did it?

When
she studied it closely, Tiaan noticed tiny distortions here and there. It took
a while for her to work out what they were, for she was not used to seeing the
field that way. Without the helm she would never have noticed it.

Something
was drawing on the field. She enlarged the image in her mind and checked it
carefully. There were tiny fluctuations, like nibbles out of its myriad frilled
edges, and they marked the drainage of power. People were following her in
constructs. A runner must have reached the main camp. Tiaan did not think they
could find her in the dark, while she was not drawing on the field. Closing the
hatch, she lay on the floor and tried to sleep. It did not come, but as she watched
the ebb and flow of the field, she noticed more of those distortions. The field
had nibbles out of it everywhere, which meant lots of constructs. Hundreds,
maybe thousands of them. She recalled Vithis using an aura-tracker at
Nyriandiol. He was following with everything the Aachim had and he could track
the amplimet's aura wherever she took it. That many constructs could even
surround the great forest. There was nowhere to hide. Why had she stopped here?
She should have kept to the plains, where she could move in darkness, and
continued all night.

Tiaan
fought down panic. She tried to recall a map of the Gospett area but it would
not come to mind. She could, however, visualise a chart of Western Lauralin.
The Sea of Thurkad lay about ten leagues to her west, and was narrow there.
Dare she go that way? Crossing seas while depending on the field was hazardous;
everyone knew that. And on the other side, Meldorin Island was infested with
lyrinx. Surely not even Vithis would dare hunt her there?

To
her north lay open plains all the way to Almadin. Northeast was the enormous
Worm Wood, and the rugged lands around the Great Chain of Lakes, with its rift
valleys and volcanic ranges, including Booreah Ngurle. But there were Aachim in
the north already and Vithis could signal them at night. They would cut her off
before she could find a hiding place.

Open
country also lay to the east, the impoverished state of Nihilnor that ran to
the ranges encircling Mirrilladell. In that land's myriad lakes, vast swamps
and endless forests she might lose herself forever, if she was prepared to sink
the construct into the depths and adopt a peasant life in the middle of
nowhere. Though what would be the point of that? Besides, Mirrilladell was too
far away. As soon as she stopped to sleep, as eventually she must, they would
have her.

South
lay the Karama Malama, the treacherous Sea of Mists, almost as big as the
linked seas of Milmillamel and Tallallamel, down which she'd sailed for weeks
on her journey to Tirthrax and Minis. Only death by drowning lay that way, once
she passed out of range of the node.

So
west it would have to be, to Meldorin and the lyrinx, the instant it was light
enough to move. Daylight stole like a ghost through the trees. She'd hoped for
fog or mist but it had been a warm night and the air was clear and still.
Bringing the construct to life, she edged it forwards, took bearings from the
flush of dawn in the east, and turned west.