Alchymist (9 page)

'What
did you do before you went into the army, Merryl?'

‘I was
a translator, like my parents,' he said softly. 'But that's so long ago it
doesn't seem like me at all. I can hardly imagine it now.'

They
sat in silence, listening to the whine of the construct, the occasional thunk
of some object or other striking the top of the machine, the creak and rattle
of the metal skin. If we were going really slowly, she thought, the impacts
wouldn't make any noise.

It
grew hotter. Tiaan's clothes were sodden; Merryl's too. She could hear his
hoarse breathing. Hers was the same. Surely they did not have much air left.
Time seemed to be going very slowly.

'What
about you, Tiaan? Tell me about yourself.’

She
was equally reticent. 'There's not much to tell. I was chosen to become an
artisan. I have a talent of thinking in pictures. I —’

Down
below, someone groaned and began to thrash their legs. Merryl swung himself
down the ladder. 'They're not looking good,' he called.

She
poked her head down until she could see. Three of the seven slaves were asleep,
or unconscious. The others sprawled limply on the floor, eyes closed, lungs
heaving. Tirior and Minis were in better shape, though they looked worse than
she felt. Nish lay curled up on a pull-out bunk, halfway up the wall. He had
worked his blindfold off but his eyes were shut.

'The
air's really bad down there,' Merryl said as he returned to her side. 'They
won't last much longer.'

She
pulled the knob up until the machine began to shudder. The rubber strip
elongated. Everything began to vibrate, including her teeth. The construct
squealed as if its metal carapace were being wrenched one way and then the
other.

'I
don't like the sound of that,' she said.

'Doesn't
matter much, either way.'

'No.'

A
while later she said, 'How fast now?' forgetting that she'd asked that before.

'I
couldn't say, Tiaan.'

It
was too much of an effort to talk. She leaned back against the seat, panting.
Her head drooped.

The
hatch above their heads squealed and a ribbon of tar jetted in from one side,
festooning her arm and shoulder with coiling black bands. She tried to brush it
off but the hot stuff stuck to her fingers and burned. Tiaan yelped and with
her free hand pulled the flight knob down until the shuddering stopped.

Merryl
tightened the hatch and sat on the floor, resting his head back against the
wall. Tiaan set the controls and scraped the tar off. She felt so very tired;
her head nodded. She hauled herself up, hanging onto the binnacle. If she sat
down, she would go to sleep, which would swiftly be followed by
unconsciousness, and death for everyone.

Something
struck the construct hard, sending a shiver through the bowl of water. The
hatch scraped as if the machine were sliding along the underside of something
large and hard.

Tiaan
could not think clearly. She pushed the controller forwards, the squeal became
a shriek of tormented metal then, to her horror, the hatch was prised up a
finger's width and thick tar began to ribbon in.

The
noise stopped. They were free of the obstruction. Tiaan tilted the front of the
construct up. The bowl of water slid off the binnacle, pouring its contents
down the ladder. Pulling the flight knob up as far as it would go, she prayed.

The
machine shuddered, the tar boiled beneath it and with a roar the construct
hurled itself vertically. A surge of hot tar coated the wall at her back. The
sound was indescribable. Tiaan felt sure the machine was going to tear itself
apart.

Then
the shuddering ceased, so abruptly that she did not understand what had
happened. Had they stopped? No, for the mechanism down below was still
screaming. She'd done it. The construct was free, in the open air, and going up
like a skyrocket.

Tiaan
threw open the hatch and, gasping lungfuls of sweet, pure air, let the machine
fly where it would. There were groans and cries as the passengers were flung
from one side to the other, but they were alive, at least. She did not look
down. Tiaan had strength only to cling to the side, her eyes watering in the
gale that swirled in through the jagged hatchway.

It
became bitterly cold and hard to breathe; she'd gone too high. Tiaan eased the
flight knob down, wondering where to go, but the whine broke for a second. As
she levelled out it broke again and smoke belched up on all sides. She put the
front down, heading towards the ground. Had something vital been damaged in all
that shaking and shuddering? If the mechanism failed at this height they would
be smashed to jelly.

There
were no more problems until, nearing the ground, she levelled out and the whine
faded to nothing. An acrid smell drifted from behind the binnacle and a long
black trail smoked in the air behind them. Perhaps she'd drawn too much power
and the workings were burning out.

To
her right stood the main encampment of the human armies, their command post
perched on a flat-topped hill. A little closer to her left, Tiaan glimpsed the
seven-sided command area of the Aachim, next to thousands of motionless
constructs. She wasn't going that way.

White
fumes came up the steps from the lower level. Merryl cried out something she
could not hear. There were yells and screams from below.

'Tiaan,'
Merryl yelled. 'We're on fire! Put it down, anywhere!

Better
that humanity have the secret of flight than that the Aachim get it. She cut
the power and turned right, skimming across the brown grass. The whine failed.
The construct hit the ground, bounced like a stone on water, bounced again and
skidded around in a circle, before thumping into a rock and toppling on its
side.

Tiaan
hit her head, hard enough to daze her. She hung onto the binnacle, gasping, as
the people below scrambled for the ladder.

'Get
out!' screamed Merryl.

Tiaan
hit the release, snatched the amplimet and pulled herself out through the torn
and tarry hatch, tumbling a short distance to the muddy ground. The underside
of the construct must have been red hot — she could feel the heat from here
because the brown grass began to smoulder, then burst into flame.

Two people
emerged from the hatch, coughing so hard that they doubled over. They were
freed slaves; Tiaan did not know their names. After them came Tirior, still
bound and gagged, two more slaves, then Minis, dragging the fifth. Nish, whose
hands were free, crawled out last. He untied Tirior and they hauled the others
away from the fire. The burning grass was expanding away from the other side of
the construct, which was now enveloped in flames and smoke. Where was Merryl?

White
smoke puffed through the hatch. Tiaan thought she saw a shadow move inside.
'Merryl!' she yelled.

She
dragged herself back to the hatch and sat up, stretching out her useless legs.
The sixth slave lay unconscious in the hatchway. Merryl was behind her, pushing
ineffectually.

Seizing
the woman by the front of her shirt, Tiaan pulled her out and they fell
together on the grass. Merryl flopped beside Tiaan, coughing so hard she could
see specks of blood on his tongue.

'The
grass is burning,' Tiaan said. 'We've got to get away from here.'

Tirior
wrenched her gag off before carrying the unconscious slave to safety.

Merryl
stood up, his eyes watering. 'I'm all right,' he said hoarsely. He picked Tiaan
up and lurched away.

As
they emerged from behind the construct, Tiaan saw a squad of soldiers racing
down from the human command area. Behind them were uniformed officers, as well
as shadowy figures in robes — the scrutators.

To
her left, and closer, a small band of Aachim were sprinting towards her, Vithis
at their head. Even from this distance she could see the angry set of his face.
Tiaan let out an involuntary gasp.

'What's
the matter?' said Merryl.

'That
Aachim is my worst enemy.'

'Then
he mustn't get you.'

He
began to stagger the other way, towards the human lines. Tiaan looked over her
shoulder. It would be a close thing. They went by Minis, who had freed his
hands. He stared at Tiaan as she passed, his eyes tragic black holes.

'Minis!'
roared Vithis, his robes flapping. 'You're alive!'

'Yes,
Foster-father, I am.'

'Stop
her!'

Minis,
who looked as if he was about to cry, said, 'Foster-father, I will not,' and
threw himself face-down on the grass.

Merryl
kept going, lurching blindly from side to side. His red eyes were streaming. He
looked around wildly then ran, not for the human camp but back towards Snizort.

'Merryl,'
cried Tiaan, 'you're going the wrong way.'

He
turned around, his eyes watering so badly that everything must have been a
blur. Vithis was racing towards them but the scrutators were going to get there
first.

In
the confusion of the moment, Nish must have thought that Merryl was trying to
carry Tiaan off. He roared, 'You're not taking her anywhere!' and launched
himself through the air. His shoulder struck Merryl behind the knees. He went
down, Tiaan flying from his arms.

It
made all the difference. In a few strides Vithis was on them. Lifting Tiaan
effortlessly in one arm, he drew his sword with the other hand. She struggled
but he crushed her against his side, his arm squeezing the air from her lungs.

'Keep
your distance!' he roared at the human soldiers. 'Tiaan stole what was mine and
I will have it back.' More Aachim ran up to support him.

The
soldiers skidded to a stop, swords drawn. Their line parted and a handful of
black-robed figures pushed between them, including a tall, burly man and a
short one with only one arm. His face was covered by a platinum mask.

'My
name is Ghorr,' said the big man, 'Chief Scrutator. Give up the artisan, Lord
Vithis.'

'I'll
go to war against all humanity first; hissed Vithis.

More
Aachim were running up all the time. Already they outnumbered the humans.
Behind them Tiaan was pleased to see that the construct was blazing head high.
With a loud bang, pieces of metal spun through the air. The secret of flight — the
diamond hedrons and carbon whiskers — would be burned to vapour. Only Malien
knew, and Tiaan herself. But could she keep that secret from Vithis?

Ghorr
raised a clenched fist, took one step forward, then stopped.

Tiaan
trembled in Vithis's arms, but the scrutators could not find the courage to attack
him. With a sneer of contempt, Vithis turned his back and headed for the Aachim
camp.

Nish
had made a terrible blunder and this time the whole world had been there to see
it. Whatever had possessed him to think that the fellow was carrying Tiaan off?
He pushed himself to his knees.

'Don't
get up,' said Chief Scrutator Ghorr, pressing him down with a shiny boot. 'Lie
in the dirt while we judge you, worm. Who are you, who has so betrayed
humanity?'

Beside
Ghorr stood Jal-Nish. Though he was greatly changed, and Nish had not seen him
with the mask, he knew it was his father. What could be seen of Jal-Nish's face
was white, but his one eye was blood red.

'The
worm, surr/ ground out Jal-Nish, 'is my own son, Cryl-Nish Hlar. I have long
thought that he was dead. Now I wish he had never been born.'

'So
do I, Acting Scrutator Hlar. But since he is your son, and you crave elevation
to the Council of Scrutators, I require you to prove that you are worthy.
Devise a fitting punishment for the creature.' Ghorr's eyes showed his doubt.

Jal-Nish
cast a wild glance at his son. Nish could not meet his eye; he was too ashamed.
What would happen to him now? A fitting punishment. That could mean anything
from the front ranks of the army to a death sentence. But blood was blood,
after all. Surely his father would not 'Cryl-Nish Hlar,' Jal-Nish said. 'You
have failed as an artificer as you failed as a prober, a diplomat, and at every
other task you've ever been set. You are a liar, a cheat and, as has now been
proven before my very eyes, a vicious traitor. The tragedy we face today stems
from your initial betrayal, with Crafter Irisis, of Artisan Tiaan at your
manufactory. Had you not conspired against Tiaan she would not have fled, nor
fallen into the hands of the lyrinx, nor been ensnared by the Aachim. She would
not have opened the gate that brought them here, with their invincible fleet of
constructs. Had we still the use of her talent, and the precious amplimet, we
might have gained the upper hand over the lvrinx. Alas, we've lost both, and
the secret of flight, and now our alliance with the Aachim is sundered. And
it's all down to you, boy'.'

I don't
ask why you ensured that Artisan Tiaan, and this most precious of all secrets,
should fall into Aachim hands. No doubt you've had vour bloodstained pay
already.' No, Father!' cried Nish. 'I never —’

'Be
silent!' Jal-Nish thundered. 'The entire Council of Scrutators saw you betray
us. Your guilt has been proven beyond doubt. Cryl-Nish Hlar, you are no longer
my son. You will be erased, expunged, obliterated from the Histories of the
Hlar family.'