‘We identified the right sea cave a month and a half ago, and I checked out the signs for myself. There was nothing at the entrance; the enemy had wiped it clean of tracks, but there were plenty inside. They’d gone in and there were no tracks coming out again. Where had they gone and how would I find them? Even ten thousand lyrinx, hibernating deep underground, would produce no sign that could be detected from above.’
‘So how did you find them?’ said Flydd, signing to an orderly. The fellow went out silently.
‘The only way I could. I followed their tracks.’
‘What, underground?’ cried Flydd. ‘You bloody fool, what if you’d been caught?’
The little man bowed in his direction. ‘It had to be done, Xervish, and I couldn’t send anyone else to do such a dangerous job. Besides, no one was more suited to it than myself, my father being a caver. I was born underground.’
‘And had they caught you, you would have died underground,’ said Yggur, ‘though not before telling them every secret we have.’
‘I carried a poison pill set in wax inside a hollow tooth,’ said Klarm. ‘If taken, I would have bitten it in half.’
The orderly reappeared with a flagon of black beer and a large tankard, which he placed in front of Klarm before withdrawing. Klarm nodded his thanks and filled the tankard. ‘It’s surprisingly thirsty work, following a lyrinx army underground.’ He downed half the tankard in one swallow.
‘And frightening too, I dare say.’
‘Aye.’ Klarm took another pull at the tankard. ‘It was that. In truth, I had little expectation that I’d come out alive. There’s bad air in places, and fast streams, and it wasn’t unguarded either. That was the hardest part of all. I couldn’t kill the guards, nor harm them in any way, or they would have known someone was spying on them. All I could use was my natural cunning and the odd small illusion.
‘But illusions work better underground, and the enemy were more frightened than I was, despite their elixir. They had to cross many subterranean streams and their terror gave me heart. But, terrified or not, they’d gone on, and so must I. That’s why I was so late back. I followed them the whole winding way, at least a hundred and twenty leagues underground, through one system of caverns after another. Many a marvel I saw that no man has seen before, and in the end I found them, hibernating in groups of thousands, unguarded apart from sentries at entrance and exit.
‘There were more lyrinx than I could count – thirty thousand at the very least, and there could be other groups I didn’t find. They’re hiding three hundred spans underground not far from the abandoned town of Strebbit. They’ll be coming out of hibernation any time now. They’re less than a night’s march from Worm Wood, the perfect cloak for their movements, and they’ll be ready to attack within weeks. Once they reach the forest they can go anywhere, unseen.’
Flydd swore. ‘I’d assumed they would come from the coast, and that we’d hear of their march a good week in advance.’
‘What do we do now?’ said Yggur.
‘We must attack them the moment they come out,’ said Klarm.
‘How do we know where they’re going to come out?’ said Flydd. ‘If my memory serves me, those caves have dozens of outlets.’
‘But the cavern they’re hibernating in has only one dry exit,’ said Klarm. ‘All the connecting caverns are partly flooded. Their elixir allowed them to endure the terror of the water, but I’m betting they’ll avoid it on the way out. All elixirs take their toll and they won’t want to be suffering from it on their way to war.’
Klarm’s voice went hoarse. He drained his beer, licked the foam from the rim of the tankard, and filled it again.
‘The dry passage opens out into a natural bowl.’ He shaped it in the air with his hands. ‘If we can get our forces into position in time, we can ambush them as they come out, still sluggish from hibernation.’
‘And if they retreat?’ said Flydd, smiling as if he already knew the answer.
‘We drive them into the underground streams and cut them down in their panic.’
‘Have you been in contact with General Troist?’ asked Yggur.
‘I have, and he gave me heart. His troops are well armed, well trained, and he has supplies stockpiled. Moreover, he has a keen eye for the weaknesses of the enemy and how best to attack them.’
Yggur looked questioningly at Flydd. Flydd nodded.
‘If they take Borgistry,’ said Yggur, ‘western Lauralin must fall and then sooner or later the whole continent will be lost. But while Borgistry survives, the enemy can’t control the west. We’ll do it.’
‘How soon can we be ready to strike?’ said Flydd. He went over to study the map that covered half of one wall. Yggur joined him, measuring distances with a length of string. ‘Troist could be there in nine days.’
‘Two weeks for us,’ said Nish. ‘All the thapters need work, and three of the air-floaters. They can’t go to war the way they are.’
‘Two weeks!’ Flydd cried. ‘What if the enemy come out sooner? Why do they hibernate anyway? Merryl?’
‘In order to survive in the void,’ said Merryl, ‘they flesh-formed their unborn to the limit. They made themselves the most formidable fighters ever seen, but it came at a cost. They have to hibernate for at least a month every year to repair the damage the past year has caused.’
‘So it’s a necessity, not just a custom,’ mused Flydd. ‘Good – all the less likely that they’ll cut it short. Even so, we’ve got to be ready sooner.’
‘Well, Nish?’ said Yggur.
‘If all our work goes perfectly,’ Nish said, ‘and we get just the right weather when we’re flying, we might be ready to attack in ten or eleven days. But things never go perfectly, so I can’t possibly promise less than twelve.’
‘Perfect!’ Flydd conferred with Klarm and Yggur. ‘A strike in ten days will catch them still lethargic from hibernation.’
‘But I just said –’ Nish began desperately. Allowing three days for the slow air-floaters to fly there, it meant he only had seven days rather than the nine or ten he needed.
‘The attack is set for ten days. Be ready!’
The first thapter flight left eight days later, and Yggur wasn’t pleased at the delay. It carried Klarm, an advance guard and a number of devices that had been made in the eastern manufactories. The destination was an isolated valley north-east of Strebbit, where everyone would rendezvous with Troist’s army, then march down to encircle the bowl-shaped depression in which the cave mouth lay.
Now it was the following day, and Nish hadn’t slept for two nights. One of the thapters was still being repaired after crashing into a small tree in darkness, and the floater-gas generator on Gorm’s air-floater had failed and had to be completely taken apart, though even then no one could work out what was wrong with it. Yggur came down to Nish’s shed every hour, demanding to know when they would be ready, which only made matters worse.
‘I knew this would happen,’ Nish raged when Yggur turned up for the fifth time that morning. ‘I told you it couldn’t be done.’
‘I don’t like excuses,’ said Yggur frostily.
There were plenty when your work wasn’t done on time! Nish thought, though he was wise enough not to say it. ‘It’s not an excuse. It’s reality. Things go wrong and you have to allow time for it. I’m not a magician –’
‘When will the last machines be ready?’ Yggur snapped.
‘Tomorrow morning, at the earliest.’
Yggur scowled. ‘That’s not good enough.’
Nish had had enough. He threw his tools on the ground. ‘If you can do better, you’re welcome to try.’
To his surprise, Yggur merely said, ‘Get it done,’ and disappeared again. Then he ducked his head around the door. ‘Where’s Tiaan?’