Tetrarch (Well of Echoes)

by Ian Irvine

  The rotten rock continued as far as she could see, which was not far here. At a shallow bend, she peered around. Something crouched down the other end of the tunnel, but Irisis could not make out what it was. It might even have been a lyrinx.

  At the thought, terror rose up within her and she almost screamed. Get a grip on yourself! A lyrinx would not even fit in this tunnel. She held up the lantern, the shapes shifted and became the seeker, crouching with her arms against the wall.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Irisis said crossly. ‘This place is too dangerous. We’ve got to go back.’

  ‘I can see something,’ said Ullii.

  Irisis resisted the urge to run. ‘What?’ she whispered when she got there.

  ‘Crystal. Good crystal. Big crystal!’

  ‘Really? Are you sure?’

  ‘Biiiig crystal!’ Ullii turned around and around, as if searching for something she could not quite locate.

  ‘Where, Ullii? Which way?’

  Her outstretched arm revolved, slanting down towards the floor. ‘There.’

  ‘Is it close?’ Ullii could never be precise about distances, although directions were usually accurate. To be so fuzzy was unusual.

  ‘Not … so close,’ said Ullii.

  That meant down a fair way. The ninth level was also unsafe and partly flooded, the level rising and falling with the seasons. It had not been too bad last autumn: Tiaan had been able to escape that way. That could be different after a winter of heavy snowfalls that were rapidly melting. If the crystal was below the ninth level they might as well forget it, for the water would come into the excavation faster than their primitive pumps could extract it.

  ‘Let’s go, Ullii. We’ll come back in the morning.’

  For once, Ullii seemed reluctant. She lingered by the wall, feeling it with her fingers. Her face was animated.

  Irisis felt the sleepless night catching up with her. She caught Ullii by the arm. ‘Come on. It’s late.’

  The seeker resisted. ‘Leave me alone!’

  Irisis was so astounded that she took a step backwards. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘It’s talking to me!’

  ‘What is it saying?’

  Ullii gave her a strange look, somewhere between pity and contempt. ‘You can’t understand.’

  Irisis did not have the strength. She squatted against the wall and closed her eyes, but sprang up as the rock shook and a crash thundered along the tunnel. Air rushed past, carrying a wet, clayey smell. More of the roof had fallen.

  Irisis looked back the way they had come but could see no further than the bend. She inspected the roof with her lantern. It was fractured all the way along.

  ‘Ullii?’

  The seeker had not moved, nor did she answer. There was nothing to do but wait. Irisis settled down again. Her eyes drifted closed.

  ‘I’m ready now’. Ullii was shaking her shoulder.

  ‘What?’ Irisis said thickly, roused from deep slumber. She opened her eyes to utter darkness. ‘Where –’ She remembered. ‘What’s happened to the lantern?’

  ‘It went out ages ago.’

  Irisis felt for it and gave it a shake – it was empty and cold. It had burned all its oil. How were they going to find the way back to the lift shaft? The eighth level was a maze of intersecting tunnels.

  ‘Ullii,’ she whispered. ‘I’m afraid. I don’t know the way back. What are we going to do?’

  The seeker made a muffled sound in her throat, which Irisis took for a sob. Panic began to close her throat over.

  A warm little hand found her cold fingers. ‘It’s all right,’ Ullii said soothingly, the way Irisis had often spoken to her. ‘I know the way.’

  Being treated like a child was irritating, but Irisis tried not to show it. Maybe the seeker did know the way out. Perhaps she could see it in that lattice in her head.

  Ullii pulled her gently along. ‘This is the wrong way,’ Irisis hissed, sure that she had gone to sleep against the right-hand wall, which meant that the way back was on her left side. They were going the other direction.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Ullii said calmly.

  Irisis did not argue. The seeker was at home in this environment and she was not. Maybe she had turned around in her sleep, or after she stood up. It was so easy to become disoriented down here.

  The tunnel turned sharply, then back the other way, like the bends of an ‘S’. Irisis shivered.

  ‘It is the wrong way, Ullii. We definitely did not come around those bends.’

  ‘Shh.’ Ullii patted her hand. ‘I know where I’m going.’

  Perhaps the fall had blocked the way they had come. After that, and turning into a different tunnel, and then another, Irisis kept her mouth shut. Hopelessly lost, she had no choice but to rely on the little seeker.

  They had been walking for a long time when Ullii stopped suddenly. Irisis, so tired that she could not think straight, kept going. Ullii jerked hard on her hand.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Irisis asked dazedly.

  ‘Hole in the floor. Shouldn’t be there.’

  How could she possibly know that? ‘Does that mean we have to go back?’

  ‘Stay here.’ Ullii let go of her hand.

  ‘Ullii?’

  ‘Shhh!’

  Irisis sat on the damp floor. This puts a whole new shade on being kept in the dark, she thought wryly. The silence settled around her. Absolute silence. It was broken by a faint echoing click.

  What was the seeker doing? Was she trying to climb down the hole and up the other side? Irisis did not fancy that in the dark. She wanted to cry out, to hear the reassurance of the seeker’s voice. Now that was ironic.

  What was taking her so long? Had she gone down and could not get up again? Irisis felt very alone. To pass the time she began counting, but after reaching a thousand gave up because she could no longer concentrate. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Ullii was beside her.

  ‘I smell clawers.’

  It was her word for lyrinx. ‘Where?’ Irisis whispered.

  ‘Down. Ninth level.’

  ‘Did they make this hole?’

  ‘Think so.’

  ‘Does it go all the way down?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ullii.

  ‘What do they want?’ Irisis said to herself, then answered it. ‘They want crystal and they’re also after the big one. Can we get past the hole?’

  ‘Think so.’

  Getting information out of the seeker was like pulling teeth. ‘Come on!’ said Irisis. ‘We can’t let them trap us here. I don’t want to end up in the belly of a lyrinx.’

  It was the wrong thing to say. Irisis heard the seeker’s muted squeal of panic, then nothing.

  ‘Ullii,’ she whispered.

  There was no reply. Feeling around, she came upon the seeker, curled up like the armadillo that was her favourite animal. Irisis felt just as panicky. Now what was she supposed to do?

  Leaving her there, she crawled to the hole. It was absolutely dark. Feeling around the ragged edge, Irisis smelt a familiar musty, meaty odour. The lyrinx were not far away.

  It was unpleasant work in pitch blackness, knowing that if she overbalanced she would fall head-first and dash her brains out on the floor of the ninth level. Her hands met the wall, but leaning out as far as she dared Irisis did not find the other side. As she hesitated there, her heart clattering in her chest, something else struck her. If she could smell the lyrinx, they could probably smell her.

  Her probing fingers found the narrowest of shelves on the left side, too narrow to walk across. She had to know how wide the hole was. Her pockets were empty but for fluff. No, there was something caught in the seam.

  It was a holey nyd, a copper coin with the centre punched out. She weighed it in her hand. The small sound it would make had to be weighed against the risk of not knowing how far across the hole was.

  Standing at the edge of the hole, she tossed the coin. It fell short, bounced off one wall of the hole, then the other,
and landed with a distinct ching at the bottom.

  ‘Slazzhik?’ a lyrinx called, the sound echoing along the tunnel.

  ‘Glunnra!’ another replied. ‘Tynchurr.’

  Running back on tiptoes, she shook Ullii. ‘Wake, seeker! The enemy knows we’re here. We must run.’

  Ullii moaned and curled up even tighter. Irisis felt like kicking her. She grabbed the seeker, who lashed out, catching Irisis in the left eye. ‘Stop that!’ she hissed, and when Ullii continued to struggle, Irisis slapped her.

  Ullii went rigid, then curled up again. Holding her in her arms, Irisis felt her way up the tunnel. As she neared the hole, or shaft, it was outlined by a glow from beneath. They were coming.

  Irisis peered down. The light was still moving; she smelt something like incense. They were burning sticks dipped in tree gum. The hole looked a couple of good steps wide. She would have to jump it, for the rim of stone along the left side was definitely not wide enough to walk on. Irisis checked the roof. No point leaping high and knocking herself out.

  Ullii was like a hard little ball, which was not going to make it any easier. Irisis took three long steps backward, ran up to the hole, knew she was not going to make it and baulked at the last instant. She bent over, gasping for breath.

  Something appeared at the bottom, the shadow of a beast with wings, and roared. She had to do it this time. Irisis ran, one, two, three. The load in her arms kept shifting and her mind could not calculate how much further, how much higher she had to jump. She stopped, overbalanced and almost fell down the shaft.

  She managed to recover, spinning on one foot as she did so, but lost her footing and was forced to drop the seeker. Ullii landed on her bottom, let out an aggrieved howl and fleeted across the tiny ledge of floor. Without looking back, she hared off up the tunnel.

  You little cow! Irisis thought as the seeker disappeared. After all I’ve done for you. A dark silhouette was moving up the shaft. No choice now. Jump or die.

  She ran backwards, took two deep breaths and ran. As she came near, the creature’s head emerged. The torchlight lit up its face from below: eyes and teeth. Jump high and fast, or you’re dead. She took off, leaping as high as she possibly could. The lyrinx threw up its arm, its claws scraped her ankle, caught on her boot seam and it tried to pull her out of the air. Irisis kicked, connected with its forehead; and then she was over, landing on hands and knees.

  The lyrinx roared and threw itself out of the shaft, holding up the torch. The tunnel ran straight for about thirty spans. Irisis fled. When she was nearly to the bend, the light disappeared. All she could see was the silhouette again. The creature had put the torch behind it, so as to hide the way ahead of her.

  Slowing to a trot, she put her arms out. Even so, it came as a shock when she ran into the bend. She felt around it and moved forward at a shuffling walk. That would not save her if she encountered another shaft.

  Irisis prayed for a narrow pinch that her pursuer could not get through; there had been several like it over on the other side. Here, the tunnel was almost as wide as a road. It took many a turning, and each time she had to go blindly into the dark. Each time the silhouette appeared behind her, it was closer.

  She went harder, but it sped up too. There was a stitch in her side. She felt as if she had been running all her life. Suddenly the lyrinx let out an almighty roar that seemed to shake the tunnel. It had a note of triumph. Gravel and grit fell on her head. Something thumped behind her; a lump of roof.

  The roar echoed back the other way. Or was another lyrinx ahead? She saw a flickering light, panicked, and when a smaller tunnel loomed up on her left, Irisis turned into it. Unfortunately it was not a tunnel, just a dead end, but in the darkness she could not see that. Irisis ran into the wall.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Gilhaelith had gone to see Tiaan several times but she always pretended to be asleep. She was hiding something. He had left off questioning her for the moment, for he had much to think about. War now raged in northern Almadin, and that was not far away. The lyrinx had defeated an army and razed a city. Neither the vastness of Worm Wood nor the slopes of the mountain could deter a determined attack. And the amplimet was preying on his mind. He had spent hours each day, watching it and wondering how it had formed. He had not touched it yet – each time he read the numbers they told him to wait.

  On the fourth day after the crash, there came a tap on the door and Nyrd the messenger hurried in, his satchel bulging and a leather envelope in one hand. With his pointed nose and chin, elongated ears and skin so thick and wrinkled it could have been a leather suit, Nyrd looked like an oversized gnome.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Gilhaelith.

  ‘The war!’ said Nyrd with a quizzical glance. His eyes were as small and black as cherries. ‘Better take a look at this one first.’ He passed over the leather envelope. ‘It just came in by skeet.’

  Gilhaelith untied the red cords, withdrawing the wax-sealed packet inside. Noting the origin of the seal, he stiffened. ‘Thank you, Nyrd. I won’t need you until after lunch.’

  After Nyrd closed the door on the way out, Gilhaelith broke the seal. The letter was from his factor in Saludith and contained no identifying marks, though it bore the previous day’s date.

  Surr,

  I have the most alarming news. A horde of battle constructs, modelled on Rulke’s that was destroyed in Aachan two centuries ago, have come over the mountains from Mirrilladell. Their number is 6118, and presently they are camped beyond the southern boundary of Borgistry, near Clew’s Top. They are said to have come from Aachan. Though I do not see how that could be true, they speak in

  a most barbarous accent and are armed as for war. Other fleets are believed to have gone south to Oolo, Candalume and K’Klistoh, as well as west toward the Karama Malama. I am awaiting reports on those movements.

  The main force is led by Vithis, an arrogant and unlikeable man, very bitter and uncompromising, according to those who have had dealings with him. Vithis has made no declaration though surely his plans are predatory. The enclosed papers contain more detailed information, maps and sketches of these constructs.

  Finally, and most urgent of all, I have heard reports of another construct, a flying one. It flew over the main force three days ago, attacked the camp recklessly and knocked down Vithis, injuring his leg. It then disappeared in the direction of Parnggi and the Peaks of Borg. Vithis is said to be out of his mind with rage. He has, for the present time, turned aside from his military objectives and is exerting all his strength to finding this renegade machine and its operator.

  I will send more the instant I have it.

  Chiarri

  Chiarri, not her real name, was one of his most reliable factors. Crushing the letter in his fist, Gilhaelith called for a jug of stout and went to sit on the terrace, a favourite thinking place. He stared down into the crater.

  Aachan! That meant a gate, and its opening had something to do with that reverberation of the ethyr he had felt weeks ago. Was this the first strike of a war of the worlds? Why, why had Tiaan brought the flying construct here? But of course, when the pipes had sounded days ago, he’d done his best to draw her here. Whether her coming was due to his efforts, or to sheer chance, here she was and he must deal with her and all her baggage.

  How had she stolen the flying construct, and why had she attacked the Aachim so recklessly? The situation was out of control and for the first time in a century Gilhaelith felt afraid. The prize might not be worth the risk. He ran the numbers but this time the pattern was ambiguous, the worst result of all.

  The best option would be to take Tiaan back to the site of the crash, put her next to the construct and leave her to die. She was so intimately mixed up with the gate, amplimet and construct that whoever found the construct must come looking for her.

  He resolved, reluctantly, to do just that. Gilhaelith was not going to risk his life’s work for a thief and cripple, no matter how haunting the look in her eyes. He’d seen that loo
k before; nothing good ever came out of it.

  The amplimet was another matter. The Art and Science of the earth were his life’s work and this crystal could take him to the core that had always eluded him. He would not give it up unless he stood to lose everything. And so he might, if he did not quickly discover why Tiaan had stolen the flying construct. And there lay the problem. Any competent mancer could read the aura given off by the amplimet, inside and outside the construct. If he left the construct where it was but kept the crystal, the first place they would look was here.

  It was all or nothing, and whatever his decision, he had better make it quickly. Was the amplimet worth it? If not, the choice was made for him. He went down to the organ to see what he could make of the crystal.

  Gilhaelith worked the lever that uncovered the skylight far above, allowing the thin rays of the crescent moon to shine vertically on the bench, the frosty globe of the world and the amplimet which lay on a piece of crumpled black velvet. The crystal glowed strongly but the central spark sometimes fluctuated in intensity. Strange and intriguing.

  He reached out with gloved hand, then drew back as one of the larger organ pipes soughed, just on the lower edge of hearing. It was like the murmuring of bees in the far distance – a warning. He’d had that whenever he tried to investigate the amplimet.

  It was frustrating. The crystal was powerful and sensitive. What wonders might he uncover if he could learn how to use it properly? The little thief could not have employed a fraction of its potential.

  Making a sudden decision, he wrapped the amplimet in its velvet and carried it beyond the keyboard to a spot where arrays of organ pipes – some vertical, some slanted and the remainder horizontal – formed a series of fans converging on a single point. At that spot stood a hollow star with eighty-one points, each a matched crystal. Gilhaelith eased the amplimet into the hollow, settled it in place and removed the velvet.