"Alchymist" - читать интересную книгу автора (Irvine Ian)

Ten

'Stop it!' Irisis said aloud. 'Don't make things worse than they need to be. It's just the lyrinx.'

Just the lyrinx! There was no such thing as just a lyrinx, even if it was injured and unable to use the Secret An. She scanned the gulf again, but finding a dark-skinned creature against the blackness was impossible. Her lantern began to flutter, making threatening shadows. She sloshed it back and forth: not much oil left.

Another scrape, much closer, followed by a deep rumbling purr. She still couldn't judge the direction, but it wasn't far away.

'Where are you?' she screamed. 'Show yourself!'

The echoes had a strident tone that frightened her. She was losing it. Stay calm — you've been in dangerous situations before and got out of them. You can do it again. It didn't help. Irisis was at her best when she could react swiftly to danger; she didn't like waiting. It allowed her to dwell on her inadequacies.

Well, do something. Take the initiative. Don't just stand there moaning.

Drawing her sword, Irisis swished it back and forth. It made a comforting sound as it sliced through the air. Pity she'd had so little training with it. If only she had a crossbow. Irisis had done most of her manufactory training with that weapon and was a fine shot, though of course she had to see her target. The lyrinx was not so handicapped. It could smell her well enough to strike in the dark.

'How's it going, Myrum?'

'Nearly done. He's a heavy bugger.'

She started to say, 'Hurry it up,' but broke off. Myrum was doing all he could, and he was injured too. Irisis paced back and forth on the platform. It was shaped like a stepped brain studded with spikes, which restricted her movement considerably. About to smash them down, she realised that they would also restrict the movement of the lyrinx, though it could probably take the risk of crushing them under its armour.

Irisis had not heard the fluttering for a while now, which was even more worrying. Why was the creature taking so long?

Lacking the Art to support itself, it would have fallen a long way. What she'd heard must have been its death throes. As she picked up the lantern to look down, the flickering light went out. Irisis clicked the flint striker, to no effect. The oil was gone.

Moodily, she tossed the lantern over the edge. It fell for several heartbeats before the glass smashed on something, and several more beats before crashing, rolling and banging all the way to the bottom.

'You all right, Crafter?' Myrum's voice echoed hollowly.

'Oil's run out. Where's the rope?'

'It's coming now.'

The darkness was not perfect. When she looked straight up, Irisis could see a feeble illumination. Myrum must have lit another lantern. Feeling her way to the brink, she peered over. Below her, a faint light appeared then vanished, like the reflection in a staring eye.

She looked away, and back. There it was again, shining steadily. Irisis felt in the air for the rope. She could hear it whispering down the sheer face above her.

Snap! That was a pitch-spine breaking off. She would know that sound anywhere. Snap! Snap! The lyrinx wasn't dead — it was coming for her.

Irisis reached up for the rope but couldn't find it. She waved arm and sword in the air. The tip of the sword met a slight resistance. Her fingertips just caught the rope's end and she pulled it down.

Behind her a great shadow rose, one wing spread, the other folded. More spines snapped. She whirled. Forests of them went down as it crunched across the mound towards her. It was taking its time, watching her all the way, and still she could not see it.

Irisis felt the air swirl; smelled the hot breath of the creature. No time to tie on; she let go the rope and swung the sword in a low, vicious arc. The shadow, definitely a lyrinx, kept coming. Her sword struck it on its armoured thigh, wedging there.

'Crafter!' Myrum called urgently.

She had no time to answer. Jerking her blade free, Irisis took a step backwards and froze. She was standing on the brink. Could she lure it over? Unlikely. Lyrinx could see better in the dark than humans. She went sideways, fixing the location of the rope in her mind. It would be difficult to find again, if she lost it.

Irisis stumbled against a miniature pitch spike, too black to see. She hacked at the shadow, again connecting with its thigh plate. The lyrinx slashed back, though feebly. It must be badly injured: Irisis tried a higher swipe and this time the tip of the sword carved through softness. It had gone between two belly plates. Something gurgled; she hoped it was the creature's intestines.

The shadow slumped, panting. Irisis thrust the sword into its sheath, went backwards to the hanging rope and, by a miracle, found it. She pulled herself up, hand over hand, as far as she could go. Not far enough. Her arms didn't have the strength for rope-climbing and the swinging bag was pulling her down. It was all she could do to hold on.

The lyrinx sprang at her, missed, and its fingers brushed the rope. One hard pull and it would have her, and Myrum, over the side. Irisis twisted the rope around her left wrist a few times, hung on with her knees and slashed below her with the sword.

She missed. The lyrinx caught the rope end and began to pull, but very gently. First the phynadr, then her. She drew the length of the blade across the rope, below her knees. It parted and the lyrinx fell back, smashing a thicket of spikes. Irisis hauled herself up another arm's length but could go no further.

'Myrum,' she screamed. 'Pull me up, quick! The bloody lyrinx's right here.'

Silence. The rope jerked up a little way and stopped. The lyrinx lurched at her and missed, its eyes fixed on her as it gathered itself for another attempt. Irisis could only hold the sword pointed downwards, and pray.

Again it sprang, its claws whistling through the air just below the hanging bag. She pulled it up. One claw tore open the side of her boot, before ripping it off. She threw the other one at it, but missed.

'Myrum!' she wailed. 'Pull your heart out or I'm dead.'

The rope moved up again, as much as a couple of spans, before stopping. It was enough to get her out of the creature's reach, though Irisis began to fear that, with his broken ribs, Myrum was incapable of lifting her higher. What if he'd been slain and a lyrinx was now hauling her up? Her empty stomach contracted. That possibility had not occurred to her before.

Something winked in the dim light before whirring past her ear. The lyrinx had thrown a shard of pitch at her. Another spun to one side. They were poor projectiles, difficult to aim.

The rope began to creep up and Irisis dared to hope that she might make it after all. Then the fluttering began again and she heard a whooshing sound, as of a breath rapidly exhaled. What was it up to now?

With a deeper, gasping whoosh and a creaking flutter, the lyrinx lifted off. It moved out into the dim lantern light, its wings clubbing the air so violently that she was buffeted from side to side on the rope. How the beast had managed it she would never know, for one wing was torn in two places and its blood-covered head was the wrong shape, as if stoved in when it had fallen into the chasm. And since it could not use the Secret Art here, it must be flying on sheer indomitable will.

Struck with terrified admiration, she watched it drive through the air towards her, only courage keeping that heavy body aloft. Surelv there had never been such a feat until now.

Her strength was fading- Even with both hands, she could barely hold on. There was no possibility of defending herself with the sword, so she sheathed it. Rising fumes whipped past her face, making her eyes water. Pulling up the frayed end of the rope, Irisis made a quick knot around her waist, one-handed, in case she lost her grip when the beast attacked. It was staggering through the air, now rising, now falling, but always heading for her.

She looked up. No way to tell who, or what, was lifting her. The lyrinx rose above her, struggling to grip the air. Now it plunged, though by her rather than at her. It did not want to lose the prize.

Irisis tried to sway the rope out of the way. It moved but not far enough. The lyrinx caught her by the arm. She tore free, which must have upset the creature's delicate equilibrium for it veered off, flapping furiously.

Now it attacked from the other side. Strands of luminous saliva hung from its open mouth. It was tiring rapidly. She watched it come. If it was so easily disturbed, a more direct attack might just tip the balance.

It swooped. She doubled up her legs and shot them out at its head, as she'd done when a lyrinx attacked her at the manufactory last winter. The rope went the other way and her powerful kick ended up as no more than a tap on the jaw. Irisis lost her grip, fell and, caught by the knot around her waist, flipped upside down.

The lyrinx's teeth snapped together, it swung its left arm but just failed to snatch the bag from her belt. The rope slipped and she thought she was going to fall head-first all the way down into that fiery crack, but it pulled tight. It held.

Irisis swung back and forth without the strength to heave herself upright. The lyrinx came again, a last desperate effort.

Ropes of clotted saliva oozed down its mighty chest. With a hoarse, despairing cry, it lunged for the bag that now hung by her shoulder.

'Help!' she wailed, staring at the flickering light just a few spans above. An unidentifiable figure swayed there, swinging something around its head like a cannonball in a sling. The object hurtled down, looking for all the world like a human head. I must be hallucinating, Irisis thought, as the object struck the lyrinx on its brow ridge. Red showered into its eyes.

The lyrinx gagged, the wings missed a beat, it slid sideways into the sheer black face, and fell out of sight.

The rope jerked and she was hauled up, still upside down. Her head cracked on the sheer fracture surface as she was dragged over the edge, then Irisis was dropped onto the pitchy floor.

'Myrum …' she gasped.

It was not Myrum, but Flangers, on his knees in a small pool of blood. He looked ghastly. A mutilated corpse lay not far away, strangely shortened, though she could barely see it through the tears of relief. Or perhaps it was the fumes. Fyn-Mah was sprawled on the path at the beginning of the broken bridge, unmoving.

'What happened, Flangers?'

"Nother lyrinx.' He sucked in a breath as though it was his last, glancing towards a hollow where the dead creature lay. 'Myrum thought he'd killed it.' Flangers hunched over, supporting himself with both arms, gasping. 'He hadn't. Tore his head off.'

'That was Myrum's head you threw at the lyrinx?'

'First thing I could reach. Poor fellow. A good soldier and a decent man.' Flangers lay on the floor without the strength to lift his head.

'Is Fyn-Mah dead too?'

'Don't know.'

Irisis crawled to the small woman and felt her throat. 'She's alive.' She peered over the edge. 'We'd better move. I wouldn't bet that lyrinx is dead.'

'Leave me,' said Flangers. 'Can't walk.'

'Then crawl — I'm not leaving you behind. That was a mighty heave, Flangers. Any idea how we get out of here?'

One finger pointed to the right.

She discerned a series of ledges between the pitch spears, which might have been close enough together to form a track, though it would be a dangerous one.

'I'll carry Fyn-Mah. Bring the bag and the rope.' Unknotting the phynadr bag, she handed it to him.

'Don't think I can.'

'Just try,' she said. 'I can't get it back without you.'

Once more the appeal to duty lifted Flangers beyond what any normal man could have achieved. What a hero he was. And what a waste that such courage should be directed to so bloody an end.

It buoyed her up as well, and Irisis found the strength to lift Fyn-Mah onto her shoulders. She set off, trying not to think about the path ahead. It was killing work. Several times she had to hoist the perquisitor onto a higher ledge, hoping she would not fall off while Irisis clambered up herself. After a desperate twenty minutes they reached the other side. The black mouth of the tunnel was just above them. She pulled herself up into it and smelled fresh air.

'It's not far now, Flangers.'

They lurched along like two bloody wrecks, turned a corner and emerged halfway up a deep but narrow mine pit. The sky was just growing light, though not enough to illuminate the pit. 'At last,' said Irisis, limping on bloody, pitch-stained feet. She turned the other way. 'Where's the air-floater?'

"This isn't the pit we came down,' said Flangers, who, astonishingly, appeared to have rallied a little. 'We're in the wrong place.'

Irisis put Fyn-Mah down on the ledge. 'Then we'll have to climb.'

Flangers was staring at the rim. 'I can see something moving up there.'

They stepped back into the tunnel entrance. Fyn-Mah said, more clearly than before, 'Go round base of pit .., through tunnel . . , other side.'

'You're conscious!' Irisis wished she did not have to pick her up again.

The perquisitor did not answer. Hefting her, Irisis followed the path to the bottom of the pit, around the base and in through a tunnel that had not been visible in the black wall. They were underground for only a few minutes before emerging in a larger pit. The air-floater was waiting across the far side, right where they had left it, its four guards with their crossbows ready. Irisis pushed Fyn-Mah through the ropes, fell through herself and lay on the deck without the strength to rise. Two of the guards carried Flangers aboard.

Muss was already there, gazing up at the rim. He had assumed his old persona — the slim, middle-aged man she'd first met in Gosport — though he still looked frustrated and unhappy. So he didn't get what he went in for, Irisis thought. I wonder what it could be?

'Where were you when we needed you?' she snapped. 'On other duties,' he said, impassive again.

'Where are our mates?' cried a young soldier.

'Dead!' Fyn-Mah tried to sit up but sagged back against the wall of the cabin. 'Go up,' she whispered to Pilot Inouye. 'Out of crossbow range.'

The grapnels were pulled aboard. Inouye twisted a knob on the floater-gas generator and gas whistled up the pipe. The air-floater shot up out of the pit, rising above the hummocks and tar bogs of Snizort, and just in time. A detachment of some hundred soldiers had come through the broken eastern wall and were advancing towards the pit. They stopped and someone waved. Pilot Inouye turned to Fyn Mah. 'They're signalling. I think they want us to land.'

'Keep going!' said Fyn-Mah, forcing herself to her feet. She hung onto the rope mesh, swaying dangerously. 'I have other orders. Guards,' she said to the four men, 'ready your weapons. We cannot be taken.'

The soldiers looked uneasy, but complied. Irisis felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She took a crossbow for herself. The loyalty of these men had already been tested. Surely it would take little for them to mutiny — if Fyn-Mah was taken, they would be condemned with her.

On the ground, there was a flurry or activity at the front of the detachment. A black-robed figure waved its arms, a perquisitor Irisis did not recognise. A soldier put a speaking trumpet to his mouth.

'Land at once, whoever you are,' he boomed.

'Go higher!' hissed Fyn-Mah. Clinging death-like to the ropes, she shouted down. 'I may not. I'm on a special mission for Scrutator Xervish Flydd.'

The robed figure snatched the speaking trumpet. 'There is no Scrutator Flydd, only the condemned criminal, Slave Flydd.'

Fyn-Mah let out a muffled cry. She turned to Irisis and Flangers. 'What do I do now?'

'Follow your orders,' said Flangers unhelpfully.

'Muss?' she called.

Eiryn Muss was squatting on the deck, deeply immersed in his own thoughts, and did not answer. Whatever was bothering him, it was more important than their imminent demise.

'Land immediately, in the name of Acting Scrutator Jal-Nish Hlar!' shouted the figure on the ground.

'Perquisitor Fyn-Mah,' said Inouye, 'I must go down. I have a direct order from your superior.'

Fyn-Mah covered her face with her hands.

If the scrutator had fallen, what hope was there for any of them? 'You're risking everything on Flydd,' Irisis said. 'Do you think he can possibly rise again?'

Fyn-Mah groaned, then mastered herself. 'Scrutator Flydd ordered me to go on, no matter what happened to him, and so, I must. No matter what the consequences.'

Irisis felt Death look up from his work on the battlefield, rub a testing thumb down the blade of his scythe, and smile grimly.

The scrutators will torment us all,' cried Inouye, desperately defiant.

'I'm taking the air-floater,' Fyn-Mah gritted. 'If you won't cooperate, we'll throw you down to join your friends and Crafter Irisis will take over your controller.'

Irisis doubted that she could operate it, or that Fyn-Mah would be so ruthless, but the pilot did not know that.

Inouye licked her wind-chapped lips. The bond with the machine was intense, and pilots, like clanker operators, had been known to go insane after their craft was destroyed.

'They'll slay my man and my little children,' she said in a barely audible voice.

'Not if you're forced to it.' said Fyn-Mah in more gentle tones. 'Flangers, make a show.'

Flangers liked it no more than the pilot did, but he took Irisis's crossbow and pointed it at Inouye, in full view of those on the ground.

'This will ruin us all,' wept little Inouye. She obeyed and the air-floater lifted.

'Go north, with all speed,' said Fyn-Mah.

The soldiers on the ground fired their crossbows but the air-floater was out of range and the bolts fell harmlessly back. Someone ran to the broken wall, climbed it and began to signal frantically towards the command area.

'I feared this was going to happen,' said Fyn-Mah. 'With the scrutator lost, there's only one option left.' She groaned and slumped to the canvas deck.

Behind them, three black air-floaters rose from the mound next to the army command area, and followed.

'Or maybe none,' said Irisis, picking the perquisitor up and carrying her inside.