Alchymist (15 page)

She
jerked as hard as she could. It jarred the muscles of her leg but her boot
remained firmly embedded in pitch. The two lyrinx were also stuck, though they
probably had the strength to pull free.

Myrum
cursed and began to hack at the pitch with his sword. She did the same, trying
to watch the bridge and the enemy at the same time. Flangers, being closer to
the source, was more deeply embedded, while Fyn-Mah was buried to the ankles.
Lacking a sword, she had no way of freeing herself.

Flangers
hacked the laces off his boots and pulled his feet out. Tearing off his socks,
he ran out onto the bridge.

'Go
back,' cried Fyn-Mah. 'You can't save me.'

'Then
I'll die trying.' He hammered the brittle pitch around her boots with the point
of his sword, sending chips flying everywhere.

'Take
this and go! It's more important than I am.' She heaved the heavy bag to him.

He
lashed it to his belt but kept hacking, the bag banging against his calves as
he worked. There's nowhere to go, Perquisitor.'

'Take
it!' she roared. ‘It's an order, soldier.’

It
was too late. The mancer-lyrinx was edging towards them, moving tentatively as
if unsure whether the bridge would hold its weight. This small chasm was a
dangerous place in which to fly, if it had to.

'Now
would be a really good time to use whatever you were keeping for an emergency,'
yelled Irisis, still prising at the pitch that held her boot fast.

Fyn-Mah
just stood there, one hand holding up the glowing crystal.

Why
didn't the mancer-lyrinx blast them? Irisis prised away. Her boot came free,
along with a lump of pitch resembling a club foot. She smashed it off. Did the
creature want to take them alive? That didn't make sense, since the other
lyrinx had tried so hard to kill them. It had to be the phynadr.

The
lyrinx edged closer, the bridge shivering under its weight. The beast gestured
towards the bag. Irisis could see the knots in Fyn-Mah's jawline. She was
terrified but defiant, and Irisis could not but admire her for it.

Behind
Irisis there came a roar as one of the lyrinx freed itself and leapt, its foot
trailing blood. Myrum, who was still stuck, slashed wildly at it. The lyrinx
landed hard on the torn foot, lurched sideways but recovered to beat through
Myrum's defences. Throwing its arms around him, it squeezed him against its chest
plates. Ribs cracked as Myrum fell backwards, carrying it with him. The great
mouth darted at the soldier's head. It reminded Irisis of the time she had been
held beneath one of the lyrinx, and only Flydd's heroism had saved her.

She
swung her sword against the back of the creature's armoured skull with every
ounce of her strength. The armour cracked and the lyrinx's head was driven into
the floor. It did not move, though the blow could only have stunned it.

Finding
a gap between the skin plates of its side, she drove her sword through the
ribs.

It
took all her strength, and all of Myrum's, to get him out from under the fallen
creature. He was so battered and bruised he could not stand up. The second
lyrinx was still nving to free its feet from the pitch. She hacked Myrum's
boots out.

On
the bridge, the mancer-lyrinx was almost within reach of Fyn-Mah. The bridge
shuddered. The creature reached out for her. Her eyes fixed on it. Fyn-Mah
tossed the crystal towards the roof of the chasm and yelled, 'Cover your eyes!'

Irisis,
watching the crystal arc up into the darkness, screwed her eyes shut. The
explosion of light burned her eyelids and sent blood-red pulses through her
brain. She opened her eyes, dazed and dazzled, to see the mancer-lyrinx topple
head-first off the bridge. Its wings spread as it hurtled downwards, but they
were insufficient to support it without the aid of the Art, and the exploding
crystal had filled the ethyr with echoes, preventing it from drawing on a
distant field. Only devices that stored power, like Fyn-Mah's crystals, could
work here, and once that power had been used they were useless.

The
bridge softened and began to droop beneath Fyn-Mah's feet. She pulled one foot
from its boot and heaved at the other. Flangers scrambled down the curve to her.

'Go
back,' she screamed. 'Save the phynadr.’

Fyn-Mah
was going to do her duty to the bitter end. You're a better woman than I'll
ever be, Irisis thought.

The
curve of the bridge steepened and thinned like molasses sagging between two
spoons. Soon it must break, plunging Fyn-Mah into the abyss. Flangers kept
moving towards her as the stretching strand of pitch pulled her away but, as he
grasped her outstretched hand, the bridge snapped. Fyn-Mah fell, pulling
Flangers with her. He threw his other arm around the pitch. They swung on the
end of the still lengthening ribbon, then disappeared into the darkness. Irisis
heard a thud as they struck the side of the chasm, a muffled cry, then nothing.
Darkness, utter and complete, swallowed the world.

'Don't
suppose you've got a flint striker in your pocket.' Myrum's voice came from not
far away.

She
felt it out and snapped it a couple of times so he could see the sparks. 'Here.
What's happened to the other lyrinx.'

'Was
still stuck, last I saw.' He in a lantern. The creature lay on the floor, one
foot at a strange angle as if it had broken its ankle. Its hands were pressed
against its eye-sockets, its face covered in red-stained tears. 'Burned its
eyes, I'd reckon. They don't like bright light.' He put his sword to the
defenceless creature's throat.

Irisis
turned away. It had to be done but she did not have to see it. 'Bring the
lantern when you're finished. We'll have to recover the phynadr, and the little
beast if we can, though I don't see how we're going to get out again.'

'I
can smell fresh air,' said Myrum shortly. 'It must be coming from the other
side.'

'No
use if we can't get to it. Got any rope in that pack of yours?'

'As
it happens, I have.' He produced a hank of thick cord, knotted one end around
his burly torso, and the other around hers. 'Nice chest you've got here,
Irisis.'

'This
is as close as you 're ever getting to it,' she said with a cheerful grin.

He
was philosophical. 'Ah well. I still have my dreams.'

'I
hope you live to have many more.'

'What
if you go down on the rope, and I hold you?'

'I'm
heavier than I look.'

He
eyed her up and down. 'Even so.'

All
right, but keep your thoughts on the rope.'

His
gummy smile widened. 'Don't know as how you can dictate terms when I'm holding
you up.'

Myrum
lowered her over the edge, which turned out to be an overhang. Irisis held the
lantern out in her right hand, though its smoky yellow glow barely penetrated
the blackness. Heat wafted up past her and, as she swung back and forth, she
caught a glimpse of something glowing in a crack, a long way down. It looked
like lava, but wasn't. The tar was on fire and it would burn wickedly if she
ended up anywhere near it.

Recalling
that thud, she directed the lantern light along the nearer side of the
crevasse. Here the wall consisted of a series of sheer miniature cliffs, broken
by narrow platforms topped with jagged spires of pitch, some as sharp as broken
glass. Irisis cringed at the thought of crashing into them.

It
was hard to see, for the black surfaces reflected only an occasional glitter.
Unable to get close enough to the wall because of the overhang, she began to
swing back and forth on the rope.

'You
all right?' called Myrum.

'Yes.
Can't see much, though. Lower me down a few spans. Oh, and Myrum?'

'Yes?'

'Keep
a sharp lookout behind you.'

He
snorted. 'You've got the bloody lantern!'

'There
should be another one.'

Her
swing was now long enough to reach one of the spikes. She caught hold of it low
down, where it was not so sharp, and pulled herself into a space between a
cluster of spires.

'I'm
standing!' she called, so he would not worry about the weight going off the
rope. 'Let out a bit more.'

'Good-oh!'

Irisis
edged as far as she could to her left, until she was brought up by a sheer drop
that went all the way down to the fiery crack. If Fyn-Mah and Flangers had
fallen that far, they were lost. She crept the other way, between spines,
shards and spears of frozen pitch. Ahead, the surface formed an irregular
series of steps, some almost as tall as she was. Holding out the lantern, she
peered down.

Nothing
that way either. She looked over the outer edge. A ribbon of solidified pitch
was looped around one of the spires further down. It had to be from the bridge
but she could not see anyone. Below her the crevasse wall curved out into another
spike-studded mound, this one about fifteen paces by ten. Its edges fell away
on three sides while the fourth was the sheer, unclimbable wall Irisis leaned
out, the lantern tilted, and a few drops of hot oil spilled. From below she
heard a faint groan.

'Fyn-Mah?
Flang-‘

No
answer. 'I've found something,' she called up to Myrum. 'Lower me down a few
spans, carefully.'

'Not
much rope left,' he yelled.

'Give
me all you have.'

She
went down, swinging back and forth, pushing herself away from the razor shards
with her feet. Several spikes broke off. How secure was any of this? The least
shock might crumble the lot and send it into the abyss.

There
was no rope left when her boots grounded on a shelf at the edge of the spiky
mound and, in the light of the lantern, she saw Fyn-Mah wedged between two
spires with her head at a strange angle. It looked as if she'd broken her neck.

'Fyn-Mah?'
Irisis touched the perquisitor on the cheek.

The
small woman's eyes opened, moving all the way up the crafter's elongated form
to the rope around her chest. She moved her head back to the vertical. 'Didn't
expect to see you,' she said in a faint, slurred voice.

'I
came for the phynadr,' said Irisis coolly. 'To do my duty, of course.'

"Course,'
Fyn-Mah echoed. 'Help me up. Stuck.' She tried to lift an arm but it flopped
down.

'I
thought your neck was broken.' Irisis held the lantern close. One pupil was
larger than the other, which meant she had concussion.

'You'd
be happy then.'

'I
don't hate you —’ Irisis began.

"Nother
time, Crafter!' The last word trailed out and Fyn-Mah looked confused. 'Head
hurts.'

Putting
down the lantern, Irisis lifted the perquisitor to her feet. Her legs buckled.
'Where's Flangers?' said Irisis, holding her with one arm.

'Who?"

Irisis
untied the rope, steadied the perquisitor and began knotting it around her
chest.

'What
— doing?' said Fyn-Mah, her voice slow and slurring more than before.

'Getting
you out.'

Irisis
checked the knots, then shouted up, 'Myrum! Fyn-Mah's alive. You're pulling her
up now. Ready?'

'Ready.'
The rope tightened and Fyn-Mah rose in the air, flopping like a rag doll. Her
head went back to that unpleasant angle.

Irisis
turned away, weaving through the razor-edged blades and spires. Shards crunched
underfoot. 'Flangers?'

He
lay at the rear of the mound, among a pile of shattered spikes, unconscious.
There was a lump on the back of his head where he'd hit the floor, but that
wasn't the worst injury. A long blade of pitch had gone through the outer side
of his right thigh, sliding beside the bone almost all the way through before
it broke off. There was a lot of blood, but not as much as if an artery had
been severed. Flangers would live, though the wound was so wide and deep Irisis
could have put three fingers into it. It would be a miracle if it did not
become infected.

An
even bigger miracle if she could get him across to the edge of the mound to the
rope. Even if she could, she would have to stand him up while she tied the rope
on. It wasn't long enough to reach to the floor.

She
shook Flangers, gently, but he did not rouse. He must have taken a heavy blow.
His breathing was steady, though, and his pupils not dilated, so he should
recover. More importantly, the bag containing the phynadr was still tied to his
belt. She felt it. It did not seem to be damaged. What about the little
flesh-formed creature?

She
went through his pockets, one by one. The creature was dead — he must have
landed on it. She tossed it aside. They'd risked their lives, and five soldiers
had lost theirs, for nothing.

Irisis
lifted Flangers to a sitting position, regretting that she'd sent Fyn-Mah up
first. Flangers was heavier than he appeared. It would be hard to get him as
far as the rope.

Slapping
him gently on the cheek, she called out, 'Flangers?'

He
made no sound. She slapped a little harder and again he gave a muffled moan,
deep in his throat. She eyed the wound. Perhaps if she hurt him . . , Irisis
cut off the ragged trouser leg and tore it into strips, which she laid beside
him. She wiggled the shard in the wound. He groaned. It was tapered and should
come out easily. Taking hold of it, she pulled firmly and it slipped free. The
wound began to bleed profusely. She put two fingers in, feeling around for
broken pieces, and drew a sliver of pitch out. There did not seem to be any
other large fragments.