Alchymist twoe-3

by Ian Irvine

  On the way home Minis got in beside her, but did not speak. Vithis must have ordered him to keep his distance.

  'What does dream-forcing mean?' Tiaan asked when they were approaching the camp, now shrunken to barely a few hundred tents. Everyone was gone but the last of Clan Elienor, Minis and a few of Vifhis's guards. In the distance she could see a towering pavilion, the temporary monument erected to the Aachim dead.

  'It's a form of truth-reading, whereby knowledge, or secrets, hidden deep in the subconscious mind can be drawn to the surface …'

  'Is it painful?' she asked, imagining what it would be like to have Vithis rummaging through her mind, not to mention having all the lies she'd told him exposed.

  'Not physically …' He trailed off, looking over the side at the withered grass.

  'But what?' she persisted.

  'It reveals everything, including what has been mercifully forgotten. Nothing can be held back. Dream-forcing is always traumatic for it can reveal truths hidden even from oneself. Especially from oneself,' he said softly. 'It's rarely used — it hurts the forcer just as much, and can drive them insane.'

  Can anyone do it?'

  'Only a handful of us, for it requires a powerful comprehension of the Art. Foster-father is able to dream-force, though, in your case, he would not.'

  She relaxed. 'Why not?'

  'He desperately wants to know the fate of our clan, so dream-forcing you would be particularly hazardous for him. I expect Urien will do it, when she returns tomorrow, but take no comfort from that. She's a hard woman.'

  Tiaan pressed her hands to her head, which was still ringing from the day's exertions. All the more urgent that she go on with her plan. Minis must come to her tonight. He lifted her onto the side, looking around for the guard, but the man had already gone. Minis sprang down, reached up his arms and she slid into them. He turned in the direction of Thyzzea's tent. Tiaan had to distract him. She'd have no chance to subvert him there.

  As they passed the large tent house he shared with his foster-father, she made a gagging sound and sagged in his arms. 'Minis, my head is spinning.'

  'It's not far now.'

  'Could I have a drink of water, please?' she said hoarsely, plucking fretfully at his sleeve. He carried her to his tent, settling her in a round chair just inside the door.

  'I'll call the healer. I—'

  'No need,' she said hastily. 'It's from using the amplimet. It happens every night.'

  He frowned. 'I've never seen you like this before.'

  'It usually comes on after I finish work. I'll be all right in a while.'

  He fetched her a container of water. She drank the lot and had her head on the edge of the chair. 'The light hurts my eyes. I need to lie down somewhere dark for a few minutes.'

  Again that troubled look. 'You . . , could go in my chamber.'

  'Please,' she said.

  He picked her up, torn between anxiety and longing. Tiaan hooked one arm around his neck. She felt bad about using him but there was no alternative.

  Minis laid her on the bed, and the look in his eyes burned her. She turned away, too exhausted to deal with him. The work took so much out of her. Sleep, and the crystal dreams that came with it, were the only remedy, but that was not what she had in mind.

  The room was plain, being just a walled section of a tent, though the fabric was woven like a costly tapestry. The only furnishings were an intricately patterned rug on the floor and two carved wooden chests. Both were of the finest quality and beautifully decorated, and the lids of both were up. The larger held folded clothes and other personal items. The smaller contained half a dozen books bound with covers of chased metal, a crystal seeing-globe and several mechanical devices whose purpose was not readily apparent. Another book lay on the chair beside the bed. It was also beautiful but, being in the Aachim script, she could not read it. What must his home have been like; his foster-father's mansion?

  She felt a pang for their art, craft and civilisation, lost in the volcanic fury Aachan had become …

  Tiaan woke to discover that it was dark outside. She'd slept after all and her headache was gone. Better get on with it. She looked out. Minis sat at a folding table, writing in a journal. A candle cast a pool of yellow light in front of him. He looked young and, for the first time, carefree. Her heart lurched, but she fought it.

  'Minis?'

  He came at once.

  'Thank you,' she said. 'I feel better now.'

  He smiled, though it faded at once, as if he'd caught himself imagining what he had no right to. 'I'll take you home.’

  Could I.., have something to eat? I'm famished.’

  'Of course. I was about to have my dinner.'

  He brought her a platter on which sat a spherical knob of the spicy red sausage she'd grown accustomed to eating, as well as sticks of cheese, bread, pickled vegetables and wine. It was all very fine but she did not take much. Tiaan had never felt so nervous, not even on that fateful day when the Aachim had come through the gate and she had first seen Minis in the flesh. How different it could have been. This cosy domestic scene could have been real. And, Tiaan was shocked to realise, a part of her still wanted it.

  Ashamed of her fickleness, she reminded herself of little Haani's pointless death, the crushed chest, the thin arms and legs hanging lifeless. Tiaan rubbed the worn leather bracelet on her left wrist, the birthday present from Haani. Her twenty-first birthday felt a thousand years ago.

  You were in on it from the beginning, Minis. Or, if not, you did not have the courage, when you realised what the clan leaders were doing, to refuse to be a part of it. Either way you failed me.

  She was not sure how to go about her plan. Tiaan was, by nature, neither cold nor calculating, but now she had to be. She looked up. Minis's eyes were on her and it sent a shiver up her spine. She poured a dribble of wine into her cup, filled his and sipped, holding the cup in both hands. The wine was so beautiful it was hard not to keep drinking, but that would be fatal. Time passed. She filled his cup again, his third. Enough to loosen his inhibitions.

  His big eyes were moist. 'Tiaan, I'm so sorry. I've been the biggest fool of all time.'

  Yes, you have!'

  I — you don't know what it's been like for me. Both my parents were killed when I was five.'

  Was this an excuse? 'How did it happen?'

  A volcano threatened our vineyards; they were studying it when it erupted and buried them in red-hot ash. They were burned alive.'

  She shuddered. 'What a horrible way to die.'

  'I lost everything that day,' he said bitterly. 'Vithis took me in, even though he hated my parents and their values. He's of the old Aachim: the arrogant, unloving kind. Whatever they liked, he hated; whatever they praised, he derided. Whatever they believed, he denounced as lies, charlatanism and folly.'

  'What about your foretellings?'

  'Especially my foretellings! Each time my talent showed itself, he mocked me and told me that I was unworthy, even unmanly. And that's the worst of it. Though he sneers at my foretellings, he's superstitious and takes them to heart. He wants to believe, but can't because he doesn't believe in me! It's tearing me apart, Tiaan.' He bent his head to the table, though not in time to conceal the tears on his long lashes.

  'Is that why you feel you have to please him?' she said.

  The question appeared to surprise him. 'He's my foster-father, Tiaan. He's my only relative, and I'm all he has. We're bound together.'

  'So when he asked you to use your empathic talent to reach across the void, you agreed.' She was guessing about that.

  'There was no hope for us on our own world. I was proud to be chosen for such an important task.'

  'How did you come to contact me?' She stretched out her hand, hoping he had been drawn to her, out of all the people in the world. 'Were you looking for someone like me?'

  'It could have been anyone.' He was still staring at the tabletop.

  She snatched her hand back, hurt and insul
ted.

  Not noticing, he went on, 'We called out across the void, to anyone, on any world, who had the ability to hear.'

  'You were not the only one to call?'

  'Many Aachim who had seeing talents, or empathic ones, were set to the task. I called for four of our years, more than two of yours. Others for much longer.' He looked up and met her eyes. But I was the only one who ever got an answer. I saw you.'

  That pleased her, though it did not make up for the previous insult. 'How did you call? Did you use some kind of crystal, like my — the amplimet?'

  Another way entirely.' His mouth set. 'I cannot tell you about that.'

  And yet you harassed me to tell you everything about my work, and talents, and our use of crystals,' Tiaan said coldly. 'Not only did you use me, you demanded everything of me and gave nothing back.'

  'I was trying to save my people.' He could not meet her eyes now. 'Would you not have done the same? Besides, I didn't know you then.'

  'You did the same, after you protested your love for me!'

  'We . . , had to understand how your talent worked, and your amplimet, else how could we teach you what you needed to know?'

  'From the result, you did not teach me very well.'

  'Perhaps you didn't tell us all you should have.'

  Again the blame was put on her. 'Why should I tell my enemies anything!' she snapped. Tiaan felt achingly weary and she was getting nowhere. She had to take charge. 'You claimed you loved me, but that was a lie. They told you what to say to me.'

  'No!' he cried. 'That's not true.'

  Tiaan quivered with fury. 'You can't lie to me, Minis. I've a perfect memory of our conversations. When I was trapped in that sphere of ice, near the manufactory, Tirior tried to get me to use geomancy. Even then I thought that she was keeping something from me. She took you aside and told you what to say. You protested, and Luxor looked shocked, but Tirior persisted. Finally you came back and told me that you loved me. That was your first betrayal, Minis.

  'Once she saw that I cared for you, Tirior cynically used me. And, fool that I was, I believed you. I would have done anything to help the one I loved. But my feelings were incidental — once you gained my aid, I was as expendable as little Haani. You would have sacrificed a thousand of me to get what you wanted.'

  'You are cruel, Tiaan.' Minis was grey about the lips. 'The child's death was an accident that I bitterly regret, but I can't bring her back. I did love you, and I still do.'

  Tiaan looked into his eyes. 'You'll have the chance to prove it, tomorrow.'

  'I'll prove it now. Do you still have the ring you made for me?'

  The ring she'd crafted lovingly with her own hands, woven from the gold and silver old Joeyn had given her as he lay dying in the mine. 'The ring you rejected? Yes, I have it.' It hung on a leather thong around her neck. She drew it out.

  'Give it to me.'

  After a hesitation, she untied the knot and passed the ring to him. His eyes met hers. He held the ring between the fingers of both hands and took a deep breath. 'Tiaan, I swear by this ring, the most sacred object to me, that I will do all in my power to save you.'

  'Tomorrow!'

  'Tomorrow,' he said.

  Was he trying to convince her, or himself? She held out her hand and he laid the ring on her palm. She put it back on the thong and unwrapped the amplimet. He sprang up in alarm but before he could stop her she had spoken.

  'And I swear, by this amplimet, that if you fail me again you'll rue it all your remaining days.'

  She looked up. He'd gone stiff and staring and she knew she'd done the wrong thing, but it could not be undone.

  'Never, never swear upon an amplimet,' he whispered.

  'It's too late. I've done it.'

  'Yes, you've done it now.'

  Thirty-three

  Nish's shattered army was now below the junction of the two streams, which here formed a river some twelve spans across, too deep and fast flowing to cross. At the neck it narrowed in a rocky cleft, rushing over a chain of rapids down the steep part of the slope before forming a series of wide meanders below it, where Gumby Marth broadened.

  'How deep is the river down below?' he asked the soldier at his side.

  'We forded it on the way in,' said Sergeant Lemuir. 'It was hard going — chest deep for the most part. The danker operators weren't pleased.'

  'I can imagine.' Clankers could move even when half full of water, as long as the operator's head was clear, but it must have been an alarming experience.

  there were troops on the other side of the river too, in scattered groups, and doubtless enemy as well, although the bulk of lyrinx seemed to be on this side.

  'What are we going to do, Lieutenant?' said Lemuir.

  A professional soldier was asking his advice? But as far as they were concerned, he was their lieutenant. A good five thousand troops were staring expectantly at him, with the rest forming up behind them, escorted by seven or eight hundred clankers and a scattering of men on horseback. He'd asked about Xabbier but no one knew what had become of him or any other officer. It was past noon and there was no sign of Troist, either. Privately, Nish no longer believed that any relief would arrive, but he wasn't going to say that aloud.

  What was he to do? It was one thing to give orders to a few dozen soldiers, another entirely to command an army. But, if they expected him to lead them, he'd better get started.

  'Lad,' Nish said to a young signaller, 'call all the sergeants to me. Does anyone know the land further down the valley?'

  'I do,' a tattered youth said.

  'If we can get past the enemy, what next?'

  'It's easy marching downriver to the sea, and then only a couple of days south along the coast to Gnulp Landing.'

  Nish climbed the side slope to get a better view down the valley. Lemuir followed.

  'What do you think, Sergeant?'

  Lemuir gnawed at a bloodstained fingernail. 'Looks to be nine thousand holding the neck. More than us.'

  'And a good few behind, sheltering under the cliffs and trees,' said Nish. 'They can afford to wait till dusk, but we can't.'

  'Never heard of an attack on a superior force of lyrinx succeeding.' Lemuir tore off an arc of fingernail, chewed pensively on it a moment, then spat it onto the grey rock.

  'Nor I,' said Nish. 'We could wait. Troist might yet turn up.'

  'We'd have seen him coming up the valley by now.'

  Nish had the same fear. 'He'll come over the ridge further down, where he can cross with the clankers.'

  'Not in time. The lyrinx aren't going to wait, surr. They're getting ready to attack.'

  Down the slope, the gathered lyrinx were moving, and behind them others were coming out of the trees. 'It's always better to attack,' said Nish. The decision had come easily after all. 'And they're fighting uphill.'

  It wasn't much of an advantage, the enemy being so much bigger and stronger, but it was all they had. Nish ran down to his assembled sergeants and explained his plan, and the way he'd been successful in attacking the sluggish lyrinx.

  'This has got to succeed,' he concluded. 'If they can keep us up here until dark, we're done for. General Troist can't take the neck against such a force. With the field so weak, his clankers might not be able to move uphill. But ours can still go down the slope. We must attack now, and know we'll win.

  Anything less is our doom. And we can win!'

  'How?' said a sergeant with a bushy beard and a pair of oozing lyrinx scalps hanging from his shoulders, one green-crested, the other red. 'My men are as brave as any, but this has been a day without hope.’

  'I've told you how I fight them,' said Nish. 'I'm not a trained soldier, and I've killed six of the enemy today, with sword alone.'

  'That's not much help,' grunted the sergeant.

  'They don't like fighting in the heat and brightness of midday, so now's our best chance.'

  'It's going to rain again.' The sergeant looked pointedly up at the sky.

&nbs
p; 'The sun's out further down the valley. The cloud's breaking up and, running downhill, our clankers can go through them even with the weak field …'

  The sergeant shook his head. 'To beat such fierce fighters we'd need an entirely new battle plan, and all the luck in the world.’

  'The enemy have another weakness,' said Nish, improvising desperately. 'They've lost twice as many as they'd have expected, so their morale must be low. Also, they're not used to losing and tend to panic after a sudden reversal. Let's form a flying wedge of clankers, cavalry, and our biggest, stoutest fighters, and charge them.'

  'Never been done,' said the sergeant. 'Besides, it's too narrow for the clankers to manoeuvre down there. It'd be suicide.

  'So is standing here doing nothing.'

  'Look, surr, we need a proper plan. I can't inspire my men if I don't believe in it myself.’

  Nish had an idea. 'The lyrinx don't like to break off an attack when they're winning. What if we were to attack with, say, a third of our army, then turn and flee as if in panic. If they follow us out of the neck, we hit them hard with the rest.’

  'That's not much of a plan,' the sergeant said, rubbing his stubble.

  'I haven't finished yet. In our counterattack, we drive five hundred clankers at full speed right into the middle of their formation, then attack out in all directions, driving some of them up against the cliffs and others into the river. In the deep water, they'll panic and be swept down the rapids and it'll alarm the rest. Once their front line turns around to defend themselves, the remainder of our force attacks them from the other side. They won't have been pressed like that before, and if we're strong enough, we might break through.'

  The sergeant considered Nish for a long moment. 'Your father was one for reckless plans, though I never saw him in the front lines. He always took good care of his own life.'

  'My father is dead,' said Nish, 'and eaten by the enemy. I'm not reckless, Sergeant. In fact I'm terrified, but I'll be out in front, leading us — to victory or to death.'

  The sergeant seemed to be weighing Nish's youth, stature, parentage. The other sergeants and soldiers held their breath. The sergeant asked a question of Lemuir, though Nish did not catch it. The man turned back to Nish and now, Nish knew, he was weighing his reputation, and what he'd done last night and today. The whole army knew of those deeds.