Alchymist (59 page)

The forest
was dense here and it was slow going. Sometimes she found herself in places too
tight to get through and had to back the machine out again, sweating all the
while in case her enemies came upon her.

She
had been travelling for some hours when Tiaan detected a much stronger
influence on the field. Though she could not tell which direction they were
coming from, they had to be close by. The forest was thinner here. She
travelled faster, winding between the white-trunked pines and up a gentle
incline where the rocks were black and the soil red. According to her mental
map, she should only be a few leagues from the shores of the Sea of Thurkad. Of
course, her mental map might be wrong. Once Tiaan would have known but she
couldn't tell any more.

The
slope became steeper; the upper parts of the hill forming a series of cliffs a
span or two high, broken by ramp-like inclines. She took the nearest of these,
whirring across the tussocky grass and up again, through a moist patch of forest
dotted with tree ferns.

On
the top of the hill, which was like a rocky pimple rising above the trees, she
turned the construct through a circle. Tiaan saw nothing but a series of
scalloped ridges covered in forest. Behind her the rocks outcropped in a stack
like roughly piled books, several times her height. She cut off the field. All
was quiet.

Tiaan
got out and began to climb the stack but her knee folded and she tumbled down
again, taking a gouge out of her wrist. Her legs lacked the strength to push
her up. She had to drag herself all the way.

She
checked the horizons. To south, east and north she could see only trees, but in
the west she spotted water. The Sea of Thurkad lay no more than a couple of
leagues away. Tiaan prayed there was no obstacle in her path, for constructs
could rise no more than hip-high and even the smallest cliff would defeat them.

The
sun was hot on her bare head and her knees felt shaky. She took a sip from the
flask at her hip, regretted that she had nothing to eat, and sat down. Had she
stood a moment longer, she would have seen movement in the trees beyond the
foot of the hill.

She
leaned forward, rubbing her aching calves. It still felt strange to have
feeling in her legs, and she often had nightmares that she was paralysed again.
She kneaded the muscles until they hurt.

Something
cracked in the distance. She sat up straight. It had sounded like a breaking
branch, or a dislodged stone. Peering over the edge, Tiaan saw constructs
everywhere. A line of them were creeping up the hill, taking one of the few
clear paths to the top. Further down she saw others, waiting to block off any
escape.

Sliding
off the side of the stack, she lowered herself as far as her arms could reach,
feeling around with her toes for a foothold. Her fingers lost their grip. She
fell, landed on the edge of a lower ledge, which broke off, and crashed onto
the slope below. It moved under her and she slid all the way to the bottom on
her backside, ending up next to her construct in a deluge of gravel.

She
made it into the machine as the first construct came over the crest. Tiaan
whirled hers around and headed in the other direction. Too late; the Aachim
were coming that way as well.

The
only advantage she had, and it was a tiny one, was that she could take more
power than they could. Tiaan spun the machine, buckling her belt with her free
hand and pulling it tight. She would need it. All the paths were guarded — there
was no way out unless she went over the edge.

Once
again, she had nothing to lose. She kept spinning until the construct was at
the centre of a whirling cloud of dust, leaves and torn-up grass. When she
could see nothing at all, Tiaan took a random direction and gave the construct
all the power she could bear. If she had no idea which way she was going, it
must take them by surprise, The construct roared out of the dust, straight for
the largest tree on the edge of the hill. The leading machine fired a missile
shaped like a javelard spear. She saw it out of the corner her eye but the
shooter had misjudged her speed — it missed by a span. The construct rocketed
towards the tree. Let them think she was out of control. At the last instant
she sprung left and went off the edge, where the hill dropped away sharply
below the little cliff.

Her
stomach slid into her throat. The drop was steeper than she remembered — a good
two spans. When she struck the slope it could smash in the bottom of the
construct. She eased back the controller, then, just before the construct hit,
drew power hard. The machine slowed as if it had landed in a cushion of dough.
The rear struck first with a shower of sparks and the sound of rending metal,
tipping the front down. Tiaan thought it was going to tumble end over end, but
the base slid and bounced down the tussocky slope, slowing so sharply that her
head struck the binnacle. The machine slammed into a patch of tree ferns,
shearing them off, before slewing sideways, the front heading towards a rock,
the rear for a tree.

 She
fought the controls, managed to straighten it up and slid between the
obstacles. Ahead was a staggered line of constructs; she could see half a
dozen. They were tracking her with springfired javelards which, in the hands of
skilled operators, were deadly accurate at this distance. The Aachim were
skilled at everything they did. With their long life spans, they had the time
to master any craft they desired.

The
javelard spears looked designed to attack armoured soldiers and lyrinx, though
they might not be able to penetrate the tough metal of the construct.

The
two directly in front of her fired together. She ducked, a club-headed missile,
similar to the kind that had killed little Haani, thumped into the open hatch
cover behind her head, shattering its shaft and embedding splinters in the back
of her neck. The other missile, which must have been metal-tipped, screamed off
the side of the machine.

Before
they could reload, she shot between them, keeping low. Another missile thudded
against the side. She heard cries and the whine of construct mechanisms as she
fled into the forest.

Because
she could draw power from several fields at once, her construct was faster than
theirs. Had she been out on the open plain, she would have left them far
behind. However, she was no match for their operators in manoeuvring her large
machine through the trees.

With
every twist, every turn, they were gaining. The leading constructs were only a
couple of hundred paces behind, within firing distance. Club-spears whirred
overhead; one thumped into the back of the machine. They would be lucky to hit
her at that distance, but once they came closer they could pick her off, or lob
a catapult ball into the compartment, smashing everything to bits and
pulverising her.

Ahead
was a large clearing studded with spreading trees. Swerving around a clump of
bushes, Tiaan shot across golden grass towards the dubious shelter of the
forest on the other side. When she was only halfway across the clearing,
another line of constructs appeared. At their head, slightly out in front, was
a larger one she recognised. Vithis stood tall, smoking with rage. She could
see his expression from three hundred paces away. There was nowhere to go. They
were behind her and to either side. If she turned, they could hit her with
dozens of weapons at once.

It's
between me and you, Vithis. I've got nothing to lose. Let's see if you have.
She turned the construct so it was heading directly for him, pressed the helm
tightly onto her head and drew power from five fields at once.

The
machine leapt. The golden grass fled by. Missiles flashed overhead; others
struck the sides. She pulled her head below the level of the sides, gritted her
teeth and hung on. Time seemed to slow to nothing. The distance between the two
constructs shrank. Vithis's arm moved, as if in slow motion. He seemed to be
shouting at the other constructs, though she could hear only the roaring of the
wind in her ears. There was nothing in the world but the two of them, and
neither was going to give way. She wondered what the impact would look like
from outside. At least it would be quick. His teeth were bared, the look in his
eyes maniacal. He was not going to give way. Minis must be dead. Dead! She gave
the construct more power. The distance closed swiftly. She braced herself for
the impact that was going to reduce her to a splatter on the wall.

At
the last conceivable instant, the other construct translocated sideways. Had
she not accelerated, Tiaan would have missed it completely and been away, but
the flared side of her machine struck Vithis's a glancing blow, thrusting it
side-on into a tree so that Vithis was tossed out. Had she killed him too? Her
own construct careered the other way, out of control.

She
fought the levers, narrowly avoiding the trunk of a giant tree, darted between
two others almost as big, and went flying into another clearing as large as the
first.

Straightening
up, she dared to look over her shoulder. There was no one behind her. Taking
her bearings from the angle of the sun, she headed west as fast as the trees
would allow her. Surely it could not be far to the sea now. She prayed that it
was beyond the next patch of forest, for she could not do that again. She was
limp with relief, though her heart was going like a threshing machine. She
managed to make it into the forest before any of the constructs emerged from
the other side, but Tiaan took no comfort from that. They knew which direction
she'd gone, and would be heading to high points, to flash signals to other
squads. Within the hour they could have spotters on every peak. Tiaan slowed,
trying to slide smoothly between the trees. Her arm had developed a twitch and
she almost went head-on into one. She was coming down from the rush too soon.
The chase was nowhere near over.

The
Sea of Thurkad could not be more than a league away — ten or fifteen minutes'
travel at this speed. But a lot could happen in ten minutes. She kept on,
trying to master herself. She was still trying to control her twitching arm
when the construct shot out of forest into scrub somewhat higher than her head.
The bushes had small leaves tipped with sharp points or hard grey needles. She
roared along a bare strip of sand that ran up the side of an elongated ridge.
As she rose over the top, Tiaan saw a series of parallel ridges, forming waving
lines from south to north — sand dunes — and caught a whiff of the salt sea.

She
could not see it from the top of the dune. The scrub cut off her view in every
direction, and her passage too, unless she forced a way though it, which must
make such a racket that the Aachim would hear her from half a league distant.
Tiaan went back to the edge of the forest, turned north, then changed her mind
and headed south.

The
forest thinned in this direction. She climbed another long, shallow dune and
from the top saw across the band of scrub land to the sea, and Meldorin beyond
that. There were no constructs in sight. Tiaan allowed herself to hope.
Temporary refuge was only five minutes away, if she could find a clear passage
there.

And
then she saw one — a series of scalloped blow-outs along the dunes, where the
wind had torn away the scrub to reveal bare yellow sand which ran almost all
the way to the water. A barrier of scrub blocked the last few hundred paces.
She would have to crash through, trusting to speed and surprise to reach the
coast before the Aachim could cut her off, and pray it did no fatal damage to
the machine.

Taking
a deep breath, she checked in all directions. Nothing. Tiaan moved on, steadily
but slowly, so as to keep the whine of the construct as low as possible. She
took advantage of every scrap of concealment, always travelling below the ridge
of the dune and, where possible, on the shadowed side.

Before
the scrub barrier she stopped, rinsed her dry mouth with what remained in her
flask, wiped sweaty palms down her legs and cut off the flow of power. Silence
fell, broken only by the creaking of metal as it came to rest, a gentle sighing
of the breeze in the scrub and, more distantly, one bird chirruping to another.
This was it. She gauged the density of the scrub The trunks were thinner than
her wrist, but wiry. They could still do damage. Tiaan accelerated to a
moderate pace, about the speed of a trotting horse. Too slow and resistance
would bring her to a dead stop, too fast and she would not be able to avoid a
large obstacle, like a trunk big enough to smash in the front of the construct.

The
construct hit the wall of scrub, tearing through the bushes and sending a rain
of branches and leaves into her face. She flipped the hatch down and continued.
The racket was unbelievable; like being under a metal dome in a hail-storm. She
could see nothing out the front but a hurricane of leaves and swirling bark.
The construct struck something hard, evidently the trunk of a small tree. She
heard the snap, then it went sliding by. Surely there could not be far to go
now.

The
machine burst through and there was nothing in front of her but bare sand, a
dune that rose steadily, obscuring her view of the sea. Tiaan popped the hatch,
wiped leaves out of the binnacle and dried her sweaty hands. So close. She
looked around carefully. Still nothing. She eased the construct ahead, still at
trotting pace, in case there was a cliff beyond the crest. Topping the dune,
she saw a long gentle slope running down to a rocky shore. The wind blew
strongly here and the sea was flecked with whitecaps. To her right the shore
ran straight for half a league, just sand and dark patches of jumbled rock. To
her left a black headland loomed, too steep and rocky for the construct to climb.
She saw no sign of the enemy. It scarcely seemed possible, but Tiaan did not
question her good fortune.