‘If we put down the sickly ones,’ said Gyrull, ‘we won’t have enough breeding stock for the next battle.’
‘If you don’t put them down,’ said Ryll, ‘we may lose the lot. The nylatl all spring from one ancestor, so an illness that kills one will probably kill all of them.’
Gyrull and Anabyng conferred for a moment, then the matriarch said, ‘Let it be done. Come, Ryll, Liett; we must talk.’
They left the others and went up to the matriarch’s chamber, a large round room, sparsely furnished with a broad low bed, a shelf containing a number of books, a table and stool, and several charts on the wall made from human leather. Gyrull closed the door. They sat on the mats and she took a leather flask from a peg on the wall, pouring a milky liquor into small bone cups.
They raised the cups as high as their extended arms could reach, then lowered them and downed the liquor in a single swallow. It carved an acrid track down Ryll’s throat and the rising fumes burned the passages of his nose like hot mustard.
‘What are we to do?’ said Gyrull. ‘This reversal in Borgistry – no, this defeat – has shaken me.’
‘The old humans are deadly cunning,’ said Anabyng. ‘I don’t like to say it, but they’re cleverer than we are.’
‘Never say cleverer,’ said the matriarch. ‘Yet they adapt their plans more quickly than we do. In battle we’re stuck in our old, tested ways, while they change their tactics constantly. For the first time since becoming matriarch, I don’t know what to do.’
‘Attack them with everything we have,’ growled Liett. ‘They’re weaker than they seem.’
‘And so are we, daughter. I dare not risk it. What if that’s been their plan all spring, to entice us into all-out war on their terms?’
‘They don’t have the numbers. We’ll overpower them through sheer force of arms.’
‘They don’t need the numbers when they can track us from above with their flying machines. And when they can talk to each other and coordinate their forces with these devilish farspeakers, far better than we can with our halting mindspeech. Two brilliant discoveries in less than a year, Anabyng. What will they come up with next?’
No one spoke.
‘And then there’s Vithis’s army down at the Hornrace,’ said Anabyng. ‘His massive beam spears across the heavens every night. I don’t know what kind of a weapon they’re developing there, but I know one thing. If they can perfect it, and mount it on their constructs, they could wipe out our entire army before we get within catapult distance. I was with foolhardy Tyss when he flew into the beam, to see what it was made of. It crisped him like a moth in a candle flame.’
‘And there’s no doubt they’d side with the old humans, if pressed,’ said Ryll.
‘None whatsoever. Have you mastered the principle of their farspeakers yet, Anabyng?’ the matriarch said.
‘I’ve cut apart the globe we captured, though I still don’t understand how it works, or how to reproduce it.’
‘And we’ve no further progress on the flisnadr,’ said Gyrull.
‘None worth talking about.’ Ryll lowered his head, ashamed of his failure, so costly to the hopes of his people. ‘Though I wonder …’
‘Yes?’ said Gyrull.
‘Gilhaelith understands the geomantic globe far better than we do. Can we use him to help ourselves?’
‘Gilhaelith is a lying, treacherous villain and I fear the consequences if he puts his hands to his device. To say nothing of what he may learn about the flisnadr itself.’
‘I know,’ said Ryll. ‘But on my own I can do no more. I think it’s worth the risk. If we guard him suitably. Say …’ He lowered his head at his temerity, but pressed on. ‘Say if he were guarded by Great Anabyng, surely he could do no harm.’
The matriarch and Anabyng exchanged glances.
‘It would be worth the risk, since we’ve come this far,’ said Anabyng. ‘Though …’
‘And as soon as the flisnadr is complete, grown to maturity and tested,’ Ryll said hastily, ‘we put Gilhaelith to death.’
‘Very well,’ said Gyrull. ‘Let it be done.’ She bowed her head, deep in thought. ‘How could it have come to this?’ she mused. ‘At the end of autumn we were close to victory. Four months and one battle later, and I’m thinking of defeat.’
‘Never think of defeat,’ cried Liett, flashing out her iridescent wings so they touched the ceiling. ‘We came to Santhenar for a great and noble purpose, remember?’
‘I have not lost sight of it, daughter,’ said the matriarch.
‘Everyone has lost sight of it,’ Liett said savagely. ‘Oellyll is rife with despair. But I say, never! We cannot go back to the void. We came here to grow and discover ourselves, and I cleave to that purpose. But if it should prove to be beyond us, if defeat should become inevitable, let us not go tamely to our deaths. Let us not suffer the ultimate indignity – to be caged and paraded like circus animals for the amusement of these human savages. We are warriors from a line of warriors, and in the ultimate extreme, let us die like warriors.’
‘It hasn’t come to that,’ said the matriarch uneasily. ‘I too cleave to our dream: a new future on this beautiful world. A future where we don’t have to fight to survive, where we can grow beyond our warrior past, as we’ve already begun to grow.’
‘As do I,’ said Liett, springing to her feet. ‘But should that prove impossible, should all hope fail, let’s make a last, desperate plan,’ she said in ringing tones. ‘Let the entire lyrinx nation, women, men and even children, come out of our cities and fight to the death, holding nothing back. Let there be nothing in between.’ She thrust her fist as high as it would reach. ‘Let us have victory, or annihilation!’
Ryll felt the blood rush to his face, and the matriarch and Anabyng were equally fired. He had never loved Liett more than at that moment, nor been more inspired.
‘Yes,’ said the matriarch, filling their bone cups. ‘That is the only way, should we be put to it.’ She stood up and they all raised their cups high.
‘Victory or annihilation.’
FIFTY-TWO
The bolder of the refugees began to reoccupy the borderlands of Almadin and Nihilnor, putting in what crops they could. They had no choice: Borgistry was rich but it could not feed them all.
Spring passed into summer, and summer into autumn. The crops planted in the borderlands began to ripen. It had been a good season, and the settlers hoped that they might, after all, harvest enough to get them through the winter.
There had been no more battles like the one for Borgistry. The lyrinx had gone back to the guerrilla tactics they’d perfected in ages past, melting away at the first signs of resistance. But they did considerable damage and everyone knew that the terror campaign had a darker purpose – to keep humanity from taking back more of the lands they’d lost during the war. To keep them afraid until the lyrinx trained a new generation to replace those that had been lost, and perfected whatever new weapons they were working on in Alcifer.
As soon as that was done, the savagery would be unleashed.
The company had returned to Fiz Gorgo in mid-spring, where Yggur and Flydd began working on a secret project, aided by Flydd and, at times, Malien and Tiaan. Nish didn’t know what it was – no one would say a word about it.
Irisis was still in the east, now overseer of her former manufactory in place of Tuniz, who had gone home at last. Nish missed Irisis terribly. He’d tried speaking to her over Golias’s globe once or twice, relayed via several farspeakers on the way. Each time he spoke it took minutes for Irisis to reply, and her voice was so distorted by crackling sounds, whistles and gurgles that it was unrecognisable. Finally he gave up and wrote to her instead, sending his letter with the next thapter to go east. He received a brief, scribbled and unsatisfying reply when it returned. Irisis was not one for writing letters.