by Ian Irvine
Yggur squinted at the flail hand through his thick glasses. It twitched, and at the same instant the thranx shot out its other hand, which held a gray rod tipped with black. From the end of the rod, black light sprang out at Yggur’s eyes.
Yggur slashed down his left hand. The cable of light writhed across the path like paste squeezed from a tube. It struck the rock face, which crumbled. A wall of shattered granite collapsed onto the path, burying the thranx to the knees. A twitch of the cheek was its only acknowledgment of the pain.
The thranx lashed the flail at Yggur. He tipped up his long sword and four of the five thongs whipped themselves around the blade, then fell to the path. The fifth ball curled past the blade, embedding itself in his shoulder. The thranx grinned and tore it free in a spray of blood. Yggur staggered, went to one knee and dropped the sword. The creature thrust the flail in its belt, half-freed a leg from the rubble and extended the claws of its empty hand.
Yggur’s shoulder gushed blood. He’s finished! Llian thought. And we’re next! Judging from the cries behind him, the rest of the company must have felt the same.
Yggur came up with a knife in his hand and shot forward. The thranx’s blow carved the air behind him. While it tried to free its legs, he stabbed upward with his good arm at the creature’s unprotected groin. The thranx screeched, lashed out blindly and its armored knee caught Yggur in the belly, flinging him against the cliff. It took two limping hops, staggered and fell sideways off the path, trailing purple blood from between its legs. It spiraled downward, the wings began to beat and it disappeared.
Tallia and Shand forced past Llian, sending his stretcher swaying dangerously near the edge of the cliff. They feared the worst but Yggur sat up. There was a bruise the size of a peach on the side of his head and his shoulder was gruesomely lacerated.
“Bravely done, sir,” said Shand. “The tellers will tell this tale for a thousand years.”
“An incredible feat,” echoed Mendark, who had been at the rear. “Though you are my enemy, I praise you ungrudgingly. I hope I can show the same courage when I’m put to the test.”
“There was no time to think,” said Yggur, his chest heaving. “Sometimes we surprise ourselves. But it’s not finished yet. Let’s get down before you have to carry me too.”
Lilis was sobbing her heart out. “Poor Basitor! What will happen to him?”
Shand put an arm about her shoulders. “The fall would have killed him instantly, child. His suffering is over.”
Asper bandaged Yggur’s shoulder, then they hurried on. They stopped briefly halfway down, on a platform just wide enough for all of them to stand together. From here the way was very steep, making it hazardous to maneuver the stretchers. Tensor went on foot for a while but his gait was so awkward that he was always in danger of going over. Snow began to fall more heavily, reducing visibility to a few paces and making the ground underfoot even more slippery.
Llian and the injured Aachim had to be carried, while Nadiril was looking more like a stretcher case every minute. Llian found it terrifying, for his Aachim bearers swayed around hairpin corners as if the track was a garden path. He wished Karan were there to hold his hand, as she had on the way up. But that thought led only to unpleasant conjectures.
At Gothryme there were explanations to be made yet again. Llian was given more dark looks by Rachis and the whole household. Karan’s sitting room was turned into a hospital. Nadiril went to bed with pneumonia. Xarah’s terrible wound had become infected and she tossed in a fever. The healers gathered round her bed, fearing that she would not live the night. A messenger was sent across the range to Casyme, where Yggur had a small garrison. Other messengers went down the valley of the Ryme to warn the neighboring counties of their peril. The manor’s paltry defenses were readied.
In the morning two of the Aachim went back to search for Basitor’s body, but returned without it.
“We found where he fell,” said Old Darlish somberly, “but there was nothing left except a bloody splash on the snow. The thranx had been there before us—we saw its prints.”
“What a terrible day,” said Malien. “It hurts us bitterly when we cannot lay our dead to rest.”
Llian knew that the Aachim ever looked backward, and every death made them weep for lost Aachan that none of them would ever return to. They still thought of it as home, though almost all had been born on Santhenar. The Aachim could not bear to lay their dead in alien soil.
“What’s to be done about Llian?” said Mendark that evening. “I’m anxious to get back to Thurkad.”
“He’ll have to go there too. He needs medicines that we don’t have here,” said Nadiril from his bed. He was recovering but still weak. A coughing fit cut him off.
“Agreed,” said Shand quickly, before Mendark could say more. “Then let’s get on to the other matter—what to do about Rulke, and Karan.”
“A while ago we talked about finding enough gold to make the golden flute anew—a weapon against Rulke,” said Mendark. “A way of making our own gates.”
“We don’t have the gold,” said Yggur. “I plan to go my own way now. This partnership has failed.”
“I see!” Mendark said coldly. “You were happy to ally with us when you were weak. Now we don’t matter any more!”
“We never pretended to be friends,” Yggur replied. He looked ennobled by his great victory. “I don’t see any merit in your plan. I’ve always argued against it, if you recall.”
Mendark leapt up from his chair. “You want the construct for yourself!”
“I don’t want it at all. My life has been transformed. I’m not afraid of Rulke now, and I’m not going to help you with your scheming.”
“Gentlemen, please,” Nadiril croaked. “We’re doing Rulke’s work for him. Remember Katazza! United we can face him, but divided we’re nothing. Let the alliance stand, at least until we return to Thurkad.
“Well, Yggur?” he snapped after neither had made any move. “What about you, Mendark?”
They agreed grudgingly.
“I’d say the thranx shocked Rulke as much as it did us,” said Malien. “We’ve got to find out what happened up there.”
“Who would dare return to Carcharon now?” said Yggur.
“Where did the thranx come from?” asked Lilis. She was sitting on the floor by the fire, brushing her long hair. Jevi sat back in the corner watching her, and Tallia beside him with her long legs stretched out, enclosing Lilis.
“What anyone knows about the void is just rumor, Lilis,” said Nadiril. “It is a dark place between the worlds, from which, even before the time of the flute, when some chance alignment allowed them, things sometimes crept into Santhenar.”
“What kind of things?” asked Lilis.
“Sometimes wild beasts or monsters. Other times, cunning and clever creatures that were almost human, like that lorrsk back there, though merciless in their violence. In the void only survival matters. But all that ended with the Forbidding, for afterwards nothing could get through. All we remember is a rumor of terror and a name or two—thranx is one such. Llian might tell you some of those tales, when he’s better.”
Lilis’s curiosity was far from exhausted. “How can the thranx even fly? It’s nothing like a bird or a bat. How can its wings hold up such a big body?”
“Well, child,” said Nadiril, “it doesn’t fly that well—it mostly soars and glides. But even that must require a prodigious expenditure of the Secret Art, for its wings weren’t designed for a world as heavy as ours. I reckon it will need a lot of rest after the last few days.”
“That gives me hope for our coming struggle,” said Yggur.
“And as you say, someone has to go back,” Tallia said. “I’ll go—”
“I need you in Thurkad,” said Mendark.
“I’ve served my ten years and more,” she said angrily, a rare rebellion. “My indenture is finished.”
“But you’re still my lieutenant, until you resign!” Mendark’s eyes cha
llenged her. Then he changed his mind. “Yes, good idea. Go in the morning. Find out everything you can about his plans; and his construct!”
“I’ll come with you, Tallia,” said Shand. “I prefer the company up there.”
The following night the whole house was sleeping but for Llian, who lay by himself in the old keep near the front door. Gothryme was crowded with refugees and he was at the bottom of the list for the best bed. Llian’s legs throbbed constantly, though he hardly noticed. What had Karan and Rulke done? And what happened inside Carcharon, after the thranx came?
He lay staring up at the invisible ceiling, drifting into dreams and immediately back to wakefulness. After some hours, a sudden movement caught his eye. A shadow had flitted through the door leading from the west wing into the keep.
Llian watched without curiosity as someone glided into the room, moving so smoothly that their feet must have scarcely touched the floor. The manor was full of people, and it was not surprising that one of them, unable to sleep, should go for a midnight walk.
But whoever it was, they quested about as if searching for something. Or as if the layout was unfamiliar. Llian closed his eyes as the figure came close, conjured ghost light from its fingertips and inspected his face. The light disappeared. After an interval he opened his eyes to see the shadow moving noiselessly up the steps toward Karan’s bedroom. He didn’t dare follow, cripple as he was. It was not long before the intruder reappeared, a shadow surrounded by a faint nimbus of light. It shook him by the shoulder and light again flared from its fingertip, dazzling him so that he could see nothing but a golden-skinned, blue-veined hand.
“Where is she, chronicler?” The voice was a disguised hiss. He could not tell if it belonged to man or woman.
“I don’t—”
Nails dug into his shoulder, piercing the skin. “Where is Karan?”
Surely it wasn’t Rulke then, unless Karan had somehow escaped from Carcharon. That didn’t seem likely.
“At Carcharon!” he gasped. “Rulke has her. Unless he has taken her to Shazmak, or between the worlds.”
The hiss was a shriek in his ear. The nails wrenched painfully then the light went out. By the time Llian’s night vision recovered, the intruder was gone.
Still he tossed on his straw mattress, worried senseless about Karan. It must be after midnight now. Suddenly something struck the door near his head. It was not a hard blow, but enough to shake the door and startle him. Another blow followed, and Llian heard a thin cry, though he could not make out the words. Maybe Tallia and Shand had returned unexpectedly.
Something scratched at the door, then that cry came again. It sounded like a child. Llian lit his candle and crawled across the freezing floor, which was easier than trying to walk. The door handle was out of reach. Three times he tried to force himself up, urged on by those pitiful cries, and as many times fell back groaning.
“Help! Oh please help!” came the cry again.
Llian scrabbled at the timbers, caught the handle and forced back the bolt. The door swung open and someone fell through. It was a boy about twelve years old, clad in stained rags. What was he doing out on a night like this? Then Llian saw that the stains were blood, and the rags, good winter clothes that had been torn apart.
Putting down the candle he helped the boy up. Gouges down his chest ebbed blood. One arm hung limp. He opened his eyes, wide and terrified.
“It came out of the sky,” the boy wailed.
9
Confinement
Llian’s shout roused the household. Someone knew the boy, who came from a farmhouse halfway between the manor and the village.
Yggur stared down at the stricken child, his jaw muscles spasming. “If we don’t see to the thranx right now, this scene will be repeated a thousand times across Santhenar.”
“And if others get through,” said Mendark gloomily, “if it breeds…”
“Let’s get a hunting party together, quickly!” Yggur gave orders to his guards.
In a few minutes they were gone, Mendark and Yggur, Yggur’s guard and Vartila the Whelm, Osseion and Torgsted. All the able-bodied Aachim went too, except Malien and Asper, who remained behind to tend the injured.
Sometime later, Llian was woken by a smashing, wrenching noise, as if the whole roof had been torn open. There was a scream of timbers above his head, then something came crashing down the stone stairs, careened across the room and thudded into the wall between Llian and the door. Llian felt a sharp pain in his earlobe. The whole keep shook with the impact, then the candle went out.
Before he managed to light it, Malien had come running with a lantern. “What was that?” she screamed above the groaning of roof timbers.
A boulder half a span across lay on the floor. “It must be part of the upper wall.”
“I don’t think so,” said Malien. “It’s still got yellow earth on one side. It’s been wrenched out of the ground and dropped, to crack us open.”
Llian felt weak all over. “Better see if it has,” he whispered.
She put one foot on the rubble-littered step, then stopped. Further up, the stairs were partly blocked by a tangle of beams. “This reminds me of the way the Charon took our world from us. They came out of the void too.”
Llian was just as afraid. He felt his way around the wall to her, and every step was agony to his ruined calves. But he couldn’t bear to lie here, waiting for it. He went up the steps on hands and knees. Malien was beside him, tread for tread. They negotiated a gap between the broken timbers and the wall. Llian stopped. Cold sweat was pouring off him. “Give me your arm!” he panted.
They reached the third floor, where a long landing was littered with shards of slate. To the right was Karan’s bedroom. Above was an attic whose floor was smashed open. Llian and Malien looked up though it. The wind howled. There was a hole in the roof that a horse and cart could have bolted through.
Silhouetted against the stars was the unmistakable arching shape of a wing. The thranx stood straddling the broken roof. Darting its head through, it gave a hiss of pleasure.
Llian could feel Malien’s tension through her shoulder. “Of all places in the valley,” he said, “why did it have to pick us?”
“Maybe it watched the others going out.”
“Or maybe it likes the smell of us. What are we going to do?” He clung onto her shoulder.
“Have you got a knife?”
“Do you think they’d let me keep one?” he said with a trace of bitterness.
“Quick, have a look in Karan’s room. See what you can find.” She threw up her arms, crying out to the thranx in the Aachim tongue.
Llian slid behind her in through Karan’s door. The only time he’d been in here had been after Mendark’s attack on him a couple of weeks ago. Then he’d been too sick and sore to notice his surroundings. The room was dimly lit by Malien’s lantern. The center was occupied by a huge square box bed. He saw linen chests and cupboards, a lantern on a lampstand, but nothing that could conceivably be used as a weapon.
Turning to go, he was reminded of that distant night when he’d rescued Karan from the old house in Narne. He had smashed a lantern in the hall in front of Vartila, sending a curtain of flame roaring up to the ceiling. Llian swirled the lantern. It was half full. Clicking the striker until the wick lit, he lurched back out to Malien.
She stood in that same frozen attitude, her hands upraised. The thranx watched Malien with its hooded eyes, no doubt wondering if she had the same power as the man who had hurt it before.
Llian hurled the lantern into the pile of timber. The light went out. Malien yelped and clutched at her head. The thranx let out a great triumphant roar and leapt down into the attic.
“What did you do that for?” she said furiously.
“I thought if the wood caught fire it wouldn’t be able to get to us.”
“It’s not a wild animal, Llian! It’s not afraid of fire. Now I’ve broken first, and it won’t be afraid of me.” She took a tiny step
backward. In the semi-dark they could see the creature’s shining teeth.
“What is a thranx afraid of?”
“Very little, I’d imagine, if it’s hungry.” She moved back onto the top step.
“This one can’t possibly be hungry. It’s eaten three of us, and who knows what else. Look at the size of its belly.” The thranx’s stomach was notably distended. Basitor was in there. Though he had been an enemy, Llian still took a thrill of horror from the sight, and the thought. “What does it want?”
“I don’t know,” said Malien. “Maybe just a place to sleep.”
Suddenly the thranx dropped through the attic floor. It hit the boards of the landing hard, wings thrumming, claws scratching. Llian scrabbled backward and fell off the top step, but was caught by Galgi the weaver, for the rest of the manor’s occupants were now crowded on the steps below, silently staring up.
The thranx came on, drawing a flail from a pouch at its waist. Malien stood her ground. She made a feint with her left hand. A shiny bubble appeared in the air and drifted away. The thranx showed its teeth and snapped the flail, bursting the bubble with a bright flash of purple. The gesture seemed like a sneer. Without warning it sprang.
The leap took it forward a good three spans. Its claws skidded on the splintered timber, then it snapped the flail viciously at Malien’s face. The thongs cut off by Yggur had been restored. She stumbled backward just in time, but another bubble appeared, seeming to pass right through her fingers. It flashed toward the thranx, darted between the thongs of the flail and burst with a brilliant green flare against the creature’s belly.
It gave a little cry, cupped its arms protectively about itself then tensed to spring again. “Quick, Malien!” Llian screeched.