Clatter, rasp-clatter came from around the corner.
‘What’s that?’ He cocked his head.
It came darting this way and that, a device like a metal ball with rubber tyres running around it in three directions, and a pair of whirling scythes the length of knife blades sprouting from either side. It bumped against a cabinet and the blades chopped straight through the wood. It then spun around twice, thumped against the outside wall, turned and headed straight for Nish.
‘How the hell are we supposed to fight that?’ said Irisis.
‘I don’t know, but I sure hope there aren’t more of them.’
TWENTY-EIGHT
‘Keep your head down!’ Irisis hissed.
Nish ducked but this time no one fired. They didn’t need to; this whirring menace would cut them off at the ankles.
Nish stepped forward like a batsman facing a bowler and swiped at the spinning ball with his sword. It darted the other way, bounced off the wall and came at him, blades whirring.
He stumbled backwards, was stopped by the bench and lashed out. Again the ball shot sideways; his sword tip just missed the scything blades. Before he was ready for another swing it spun towards his right foot, turning at the last moment. A blade chopped through the side of his boot into his foot.
Nish yelped and leapt high. The ball rolled back then raced at him again. He bounced on one foot, hacking at his attacker, left, right then left again. His second blow dug into one of the circular tyres, sending the ball whirling like a top, but the tyres spun the other way, bringing it to a smoking stop, and it went at him again.
Nish tripped over a fallen chair and landed flat on his back. The ball, its blades clacking, darted up between his legs. He couldn’t get his sword to it in time.
Whoomph. Irisis’s heavy cloak smothered the deadly blades. Nish propelled himself out of the way, sliding on his back. Lifting a granite bust of Ghorr off its pedestal, she turned it upside down and dropped it on the still quivering bundle, which smashed satisfyingly. The nose broke off the bust.
Irisis eased her cloak away and the blades fell to the floor. The ball lay on its side, crushed, an ooze of green grease coming from inside. She turned a bench over in front of them and another behind, walling off the lane, then put the slashed cloak on.
‘Thanks.’ Nish poked a finger through the gash in his boot. The injury didn’t seem too serious. He got up.
Another of those eyeball objects arced across the room. A series of flashes – red and green, followed by an eye-searingly brilliant white – came from one side of the turret. Others burst from its rear.
‘At least they’re still alive,’ said Irisis. ‘Well, some of them.’
‘But for how much longer? And when the guards get here …’
‘I don’t hear anyone running,’ said Irisis. ‘Perhaps they can’t find a way through the dislocation.’
‘I wouldn’t bet my life on it.’
The bright lights faded, returning the chamber to its previous gloom. Along to Nish’s left something scraped against timber. ‘Did you hear that?’ he whispered. ‘They’re coming.’
‘I’ve been expecting it.’ She gave him her hand. ‘Ready?’
He clasped it, gulped and nodded stiffly. Drawing his sword, he swung it through the air a few times. A bolt whistled over his head and smacked into the wall, releasing a little cloud of plaster dust that drifted around the circumference of the chamber.
There came a rustle from the direction of the scrape; an odd, tentative sound. ‘That didn’t sound very scary,’ said Nish. ‘Shall we go at them?’
‘Can’t hurt.’
I’ll bet it can, Nish thought. ‘All right.’ He stepped over the bench, ducked low as he passed a gap, then crept forward, sword out. What was waiting for them? Soldiers in ambush? More of those scything balls? Or any of a myriad of uncanny devices of war the artificers of Nennifer had created in the past decade, some under the supervision of Xervish Flydd himself?
The suspended globes faded to a dull yellow; the gloom thickened. The scratching came from just ahead. A lump throbbed in the pit of Nish’s stomach and the sword slipped in his sweating fingers.
Courage! he told himself. Die like a man, if you must die. He took a step, hesitated, then another. It was just around the corner. Nish glanced over his shoulder at Irisis. She was crouched low, her sword flicking from side to side like a viper’s tongue.
The speaking tubes rumbled again. ‘Guards!’ came Fusshte’s voice. ‘To me, to me.’
Nish went another step. Something rustled in the darkness and he went up on his toes and sprang.
‘Stop!’ Irisis hissed.
A small pale face and huge dark eyes looked up at him and he stayed his stroke at the last instant. It was Pilot Inouye, crawling along the floor, a trail of blood coming from her left leg.
Nish sheathed the sword and dropped to his knees beside her. ‘What’s happened?’ he said.
‘Guards came from – behind. Two of Yggur’s men – dead. Flydd and Klarm – pinned down. Can’t get free.’
‘And they sent you for help?’ said Nish, drawing up the leg of her pants. Inouye’s slender calf had been cruelly gashed, probably by another of those scything balls. ‘They want us to come to their aid?’ He already knew it was hopeless.
‘No,’ she gasped. ‘You can’t do anything …’
Nish tore off the hem of his undershirt. It was none too clean but he had to stop the bleeding. He began to bind the wound. Inouye winced, and tears sprang to her eyes, but she made no sound.
‘What does Flydd want us to do?’ said Irisis.
Inouye was growing paler by the second. ‘Flydd can’t use power … nor scrutators against him. But … soldiers coming. Flydd says, find Tiaan and bring her … bring her … Must not let her …’ Her head flopped sideways to the floor. ‘Malien …’ Her eyes closed. She was breathing shallowly and her lips had no colour at all.
‘What’s she trying to say?’ said Nish.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Irisis.
‘Why does Flydd want Tiaan?’
‘No one else can hope to control the amplimet,’ Irisis conjectured. ‘If Tiaan can, it’ll break the stalemate and Flydd can attack.’
‘Doesn’t sound like much of a plan,’ said Nish. ‘Where the bloody hell is Tiaan anyway?’
‘Muss …’ whispered Inouye, opening her eyes momentarily.
‘We’ll have to find the sneaky little bastard first,’ spat Irisis. She jerked her head at Nish and moved away. He followed. ‘What are we supposed to do?’ Irisis went on. ‘We can’t carry Inouye and she can’t walk.’
‘She’s lost a lot of blood,’ said Nish, not understanding what she was getting at.
‘We’ll have to leave her here, Nish.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t.’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘We’ve turned our backs on too many people already. I keep hearing their cries for help, just as I did at the battle of Gumby Marth. I had to leave them to die and I swore I’d never do that again.’
‘This means survival, Nish, for all of us, and all our hopes.’
‘But Inouye is one of us. She’s done all that’s been demanded of her and we’ve given her nothing in return.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ she said between her teeth. ‘You’ve got to steel yourself, Nish. This is just like any other battle. It’s cruel, but the injured have to be left behind. If we stop to help them we’ll all die, in vain.’
Her words roused memories he wasn’t strong enough to face. Nish had left Gumby Marth a hero, though that had been diminished by the hundreds of soldiers he’d had to abandon because they’d been too badly injured to walk. He could still see the agony on their faces, but what he most remembered was their bewilderment – that their sacrifices had been repaid so cruelly.