Chimaera (24 page)

‘It was sheer good luck,’ said Malien, ‘and it’s about time we had some of it. I came as soon as I could summon the strength. Twenty minutes ago I couldn’t even stand up.’

‘You arrived in time and that’s all that matters.’

‘It’s been an endless day; a day of continual reversals. But now I think we’re going to see the end of it.’

‘I hope so,’ said Klarm. ‘Though I wouldn’t put it past Ghorr to have one last ace up his sleeve.’

‘He no longer has a sleeve,’ said Flangers prosaically.

Malien circled out of range of the scrutators’ javelards, keeping a wary eye out for signs of activity at the crystal-powered mirrors, though so far there had been none. With spyglasses they watched the drama unfold. Ghorr’s air-dreadnought had risen slightly above the fleet, fleeing as quickly as its rattling rotors could take it, but Fusshte’s was steadily overhauling it.

‘He’s failed in front of all the scrutators,’ said Irisis. ‘Surely not even Ghorr can overcome such a reversal.’

‘Let’s just watch and see.’

Scrutator Fusshte’s crew manoeuvred his craft up beside Ghorr’s. His soldiers were arranged along the side, their crossbows and javelards pointing at the other vessel.

‘Would they shoot him down?’ said Flangers. ‘A chief scrutator?’

No one answered. Fusshte was seen to shout orders to Ghorr’s craft. Ghorr’s depleted crew were also spread along the sides, holding their weapons, though they did not point them in the direction of Fusshte’s air-dreadnought.

Ghorr’s craft jerked forward, making one last desperate attempt to get away. Smoke rose from the rotor mechanisms. Fusshte’s air-dreadnought matched his pace. More orders were shouted and, as far as Irisis could tell, ignored.

Fusshte called his captains to a brief conference, after which they hastened back to their troops. Fusshte’s pilot manoeuvred the vessel a fraction closer, and the men at the javelards pointed their weapons upwards and fired. Floater gas rushed out of one of Ghorr’s airbags, it collapsed, and the craft dropped sharply.

Ghorr’s operators worked the floater-gas generators but the vessel continued to lose altitude. Other air-dreadnoughts moved in to the sides and one shadowed him from below.

‘That’s it. It’s got to be the end,’ said Irisis.

Malien moved the thapter a little closer, the better to see.

Ghorr raised his arm and directed a fiery blast at his tormentor, but it fizzled out long before it reached him. Fusshte was laughing as he moved in for the kill.

‘He’s finished,’ said Irisis. ‘He’s lost his power.’

‘Ghorr’s a hyena,’ Klarm replied. ‘He could be trying to lure his enemy into range.’

Fusshte didn’t deign to reply to the attack, but his javelard operators shot out another of Ghorr’s airbags. Fusshte’s craft moved closer.

‘Is he planning to board Ghorr’s vessel in mid-air?’ said Flangers.

‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ said Malien. ‘I can’t tell what he’s up to.’

Ghorr, his hideousness now enveloped in a black cape, climbed onto the ladder above the rotors, as if to get a better shot at his enemy.

Yggur came up from below, wincing with every step. He’d cleaned himself up, washed the soot off and was wrapped in a blanket. His skin was swollen and blistered, both eyebrows had been singed off and the frizzy hair at his right temple was already beginning to crumble.

‘Ah, the endgame,’ Yggur said thickly, as if even his tongue was blistered.

‘What’s Ghorr holding?’ said Malien sharply.

‘Looks like his scrutator-magic belt,’ said Irisis. ‘Surely he can’t be planning to –’ She’d once seen an operator call power directly into his crystal, and the result had not been pretty. She couldn’t imagine the cataclysm if a master mancer did it with all his crystals at once.

‘I’d better move out of range, just in case,’ said Malien, and the thapter veered off sharply.

Fusshte must have recognised the danger, too, for his vessel also turned away, though slowly. Such huge craft were not capable of rapid manoeuvring. The other craft followed his lead. The one below Ghorr’s vessel went hard to port but Ghorr’s pilot matched the movement, dropping towards it.

‘Is Ghorr deliberately trying to crash into it?’ said Irisis.

No one answered. Fusshte shouted an order and one of his javelard operators fired a warning shot above Ghorr’s head.

At first it appeared as though Ghorr had tried to duck out of the way, but slipped and fell. Irisis clenched her fists as he plunged towards the swamp, thinking it was over. However, as soon as he was clear of his own craft, Ghorr flung out his cape, which formed a scalloped curve like a great batwing. He swooped one way, then the other, curved around in a circle and landed gently on top of the port airbag of the air-dreadnought below his own.

‘He’s got the luck of a thousand men,’ said Klarm. ‘I couldn’t have done that if I’d practised it all my life.’

‘What’s he planning?’ said Malien.

‘To climb down the rigging and seize control of the air-dreadnought before the other scrutators can manoeuvre back into range.’

‘And he’ll do it,’ said Flangers. ‘He’s going to get away after all.’

Ghorr was struggling across the top, having difficulty moving across the spongy surface in the wind, though he was steadily making his way towards the rope rigging that ran down the side.

‘I’ll be blowed,’ said Klarm. ‘The man’s unstoppable. I think he might do it after all.’

Irisis thought so too, for the other vessels, having turned away with the wind, were having trouble forcing their way back against it. They wouldn’t get within firing distance in time. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her fists tight with rage at the thought of him getting away. Fall, you swine,
fall
.

Ghorr was just reaching for the ropes, while the paralysed crew watched from below, when a gust of wind caught his wing and lifted him into the air. He wrenched at the wing, which collapsed, and landed so hard that one of his boots tore through the fabric of the airbag. His leg went in, all the way to the hip. Ghorr thrashed madly, trying to extricate himself, but only succeeded in tearing a larger hole.

He raised his arms as if trying to use his Art to stop his fall, but disappeared inside.

‘He’ll hold his breath while he tears a hole through the bottom,’ Irisis said. ‘He’s indestructible. He’ll come out, slide down the rigging and be off –’

She was cut off by a gigantic explosion of floater gas that sent tongues of flame fifty spans into the sky. It was followed within seconds by other explosions as the remaining airbags went off. What was left of the air-dreadnought plunged into the swamp, making an enormous muddy splash.

No one spoke. The remaining air-dreadnoughts circled the spot twice, but as Malien moved in their direction they turned away and headed for the eastern horizon at high speed.

Irisis let out her breath and unclenched her fists. Her nails had dug white crescents in her palms.

‘Well,’ said Malien after a considered pause, ‘I very much believe that it’s over. We won’t be seeing them in Fiz Gorgo again.’ She turned the thapter down towards the crash scene, in case there were any survivors.

They found none, but as they were lifting off again, Klarm said, ‘What’s that?’

‘What?’ said Flangers.

‘That horrible red rag hanging in that tree.’ As they came alongside the bloody, gruesome object, Klarm began to laugh. ‘Trust Ghorr to go out in his own unique way. This is truly an end for the Histories, though not one he’d want to be remembered for.’

It looked like some kind of elongated membrane, waxy on the outside but red within, with strands of hair on one end and a grey thicket in the middle. Irisis recoiled. ‘It’s his skin,’ she said, disgusted. ‘The explosion blew Ghorr right out of his skin.’

‘An entirely appropriate ending,’ said Klarm, ‘considering the number of victims he ordered to be flayed alive. I’m sure Flydd will appreciate it even more than I do.’ He frowned at that thought, rubbed his chin and cast a glance down at the swamp. ‘I wonder if Ghorr could be down there now, his heart still beating?’

‘Not even Ghorr could have survived the fall, even if he did live through the explosion and the skinning,’ said Malien. ‘A great mancer can do a lot with the Art, but he can’t protect himself from a fall of fifty spans.’

‘We’d better make sure,’ said Klarm. ‘If he landed in a thick bed of reeds it might have saved him, and he could then use his Art to fashion some kind of substitute for his skin.’

‘I don’t see how,’ said Malien. ‘Oh, very well. I’d like to make sure of him too.’

After some searching they found the body, which had landed on the upraised branch of a fallen tree and burst open. There was no doubt that it had once been the chief scrutator, and none that he was now dead. They left the corpse where it lay for the scavengers to feed on, and headed back to do what they could at Fiz Gorgo.

‘Swing by the skin again, Malien,’ said Klarm. ‘I’ll have it tanned and stuffed and keep it in the corner of my workroom. And in the difficult days to come, whenever someone tells me that things were better in the time of the scrutators, I’ll bring Ghorr’s skin out to illustrate the tale I plan to write, of his life and death, and his evil regime.’

‘Don’t be disgusting,’ said Irisis. She had never hated anyone, not even Jal-Nish, the way she’d hated Ghorr, but she could not countenance that.

‘It’s not worthy of you, Klarm,’ said Malien. ‘Let’s get back and see to the living.’

‘If you plan to overthrow the Council, and prevent them from ever rising again,’ Klarm said carefully, ‘first you must destroy them in the eyes of the people. Ridicule is the best way to do that, and there’s no better symbol than this.’

‘Oh very well,’ said Malien, and brought the thapter close while the gruesome object was retrieved. ‘Can we go now?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ said Klarm, still chuckling as he rolled the skin up carefully and packed it away.

Malien turned the thapter back to Fiz Gorgo.

‘Does anyone know what happened to Tiaan?’ Irisis wondered.

‘She was taken up at the same time as I was,’ said Malien. ‘But to a different craft.’

‘Do you know which one?’

‘No.’

‘I hope it was Fusshte’s,’ said Irisis.

‘Why?’

‘The Council came here with sixteen air-dreadnoughts and they’ve left with seven. The others exploded or crashed and I doubt if anyone would have survived.’

‘Where’s Gilhaelith?’ Yggur asked his captain in charge the moment they trudged through the broken doors of Fiz Gorgo.

Everyone looked at everyone else. No one had seen him since they’d come down the slide, hours ago.

‘Search Fiz Gorgo,’ Yggur said grimly. ‘He must be found and safely secured.’

‘But surely …’ Malien began.

‘Ghorr didn’t find this place by accident,’ said Yggur. ‘I had a protection around the entirety of Fiz Gorgo and I don’t see how the Council could have seen through it, even using Ullii’s talents. Gilhaelith definitely had a hand in it. I’ve just been to his cell and found the proof.’ He displayed a handful of rock-salt crystals. ‘They’ve got the print of the Art all over them. Gilhaelith made a working, down in his cell, which allowed Ullii to look through my protection.’

‘That doesn’t mean he deliberately betrayed us,’ said Nish.

Yggur gave him a cold glare from beneath frizzled, soot-stained brows. ‘But it does reinforce my initial opinion of the man, that he’s unreliable, untrustworthy and completely lacking in judgment. Find him!’

They hastened to do his bidding, all except Irisis, who fell in beside Yggur as they went down the corridor.

‘He’s gone, hasn’t he?’

‘I’m afraid he has,’ Yggur said grimly. ‘And he’s going to cause us no end of trouble unless we find him quickly.’

He organised his remaining soldiers into search parties and sent messages to the nearby towns and villages, to hold Gilhaelith at all costs. They did not find him, though his trail was not difficult to discover. He’d taken advantage of the chaos when everyone had come down the slide to slip away into Fiz Gorgo. There he’d gathered weapons, a sackful of provisions and as much gold as he could carry. Avoiding the guards, he had slipped out through the gates into the mist and headed up the track for Old Hripton. He’d chartered a boat, making no secret of his destination. Then he’d set sail around the northern end of the island of Meldorin, thence heading down the Sea of Thurkad.

Yggur put his head in his hands when his messengers came back with the news. ‘I can only assume that he is heading back to Alcifer.’

‘To do what?’ said Nish.

‘Betray us to the lyrinx?’

‘Well, it’s out of our hands. What happens now? There was a plan …’

‘To attack Nennifer and overthrow the scrutators?’ said Yggur.

‘Yes,’ said Nish. ‘Has Gilhaelith betrayed that as well?’

‘Ghorr gave no sign that he knew, and it would have been included in the charges against us had Ghorr known of it. But …’

‘The longer we delay, the more likely it is that the Council will learn of it,’ said Irisis.

‘Flydd was the key to the attack,’ said Yggur. ‘It’s going to take time for him to recover … if, indeed, he does.’

‘Do you mean …’ Irisis began.

‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll live, but the damage goes deeper than that. I hardly dare mount the attack without him, though I’m equally reluctant to wait until he recovers.’

‘Either way it’s going to be a bigger gamble than the one we’ve just been through, and less likely to succeed,’ said Irisis. ‘But let’s worry about that tomorrow. I’m going to cook a victory dinner.’

‘Better to call it a survival dinner,’ said Yggur. ‘I’m not yet sure that we’ve had a victory.’

‘Coming, Nish?’ said Irisis, taking him by the arm.

‘I’m not really in the mood just now,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll go for a walk.’

She stared at him for a moment, then suddenly she understood and gave him a quick hug. ‘All right then. I’ll see you later.’

Nish watched her go, not sure whether to pray for Flydd’s quick recovery or to hope that his convalescence would be a lengthy one. Then he went outside to walk along the track that ran around the edge of the swamp forest. He had to think through the loss of Ullii, not to mention the son he’d never known, and never would. And then, find a suitable place to lay Ullii to rest. A quiet, pretty spot, as far from grim Fiz Gorgo as he could carry her.