On her left, clearly visible beyond the mountains from this altitude, lay the white-crusted immensity of the Dry Sea, so vast, arid and hot that seldom had it been crossed. Tiaan had eyes for it whenever she could spare them from her mapping, though that was seldom. Unfortunately she had little time for spectacles at the moment. A chain of powerful nodes ran down the handle of Faranda, so close together that many fields overlapped at once, and it was difficult to sort out which was which. Malien seemed to be having trouble too – the note of the thapter kept swinging high then plunging low.
What kind of fields were out there, in the Dry Sea? The urge to investigate was overwhelming. Tiaan could see the rainbow shadows of a number of odd, elongated fields, but their sources were too far off to discern.
At Tikkadel, Malien turned right to cross the Sea of Thurkad, intending to pass over Qwale, which as far as they knew still resisted the enemy, and thence on to Meldorin Island.
As the thapter turned, Tiaan felt a bulging pressure in her head, as if a balloon was being inflated inside it, and a momentary shearing pain. Purple lights began to pulse behind her eyes and more bright spots drifted across her vision, resembling the migraines she sometimes suffered after overusing her talent. Colours exploded in her mind. ‘Aah. Help!’ she groaned, putting her hands over her eyes to shut out the light.
The wind was blasting at them and Malien did not hear. ‘Malien!’ Tiaan screamed.
Malien’s head appeared up through the hatch. ‘Tiaan, what is it?’
‘I don’t feel well. Can you go down?’
‘We’re over the sea. I’ll have to turn back to the Foshorn.’
They landed on a grey, wind-tossed plateau overlooking the Sea of Thurkad. As the thapter came down it crushed the salty shrubs, releasing pungent herb oils that were like a tonic to her abused senses. Tiaan hung over the side, panting.
Malien climbed up to her. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I … don’t know. The field –’
Malien helped her into the shade by the side of the machine. ‘You’ve been overdoing it. Come inside. You can lie down in the dark and sleep all the way to Fiz Gorgo if you need to. It’s only two days, with this wind behind us.’
‘I’m not ill,’ said Tiaan shakily. ‘I feel all right now, but I sensed something strange up ahead.’
Flydd came down the ladder, rubbing stiff joints. He looked as though he’d been asleep. ‘What did you feel?’ He squatted beside her.
‘A monster node, bigger than the one at Tirthrax, but its field was unlike any I’ve ever sensed before. And there was something else.’
‘I don’t see why a field should trouble you,’ said Flydd, ‘no matter how huge.’
‘I’m sorry – I’m not explaining it very well. It felt dangerous.’
‘That’s easily dealt with,’ said Malien, smiling. ‘We won’t go near it. Let’s get you inside.’
‘Something isn’t right,’ said Tiaan. ‘I have to put it on my map.’
Malien and Flydd exchanged glances. ‘I don’t think –’ Flydd began.
‘I must,’ Tiaan insisted. ‘If something’s wrong, I’ve got to see it.’
‘All right,’ said Malien. ‘We’ll go down to the tip of the Foshorn.’ Then, unaccountably, she shivered.
‘There, you’re feeling its wrongness too,’ said Tiaan.
‘Not at all,’ said Malien. ‘Just remembering the last time I was there.’ She did not elaborate.
‘Go carefully,’ said Flydd, giving her another meaningful look.
Malien withdrew the amplimet and Flydd closed the lid of the platinum box over it. She made adjustments to the way she controlled the thapter, to make up for not using the amplimet, and lifted off, just skimming the shore. The field of the monster node grew in Tiaan’s mind until it swirled all around her.
‘Can’t you see it?’ she said to Malien, who did not seem to be troubled now.
‘I’ve never been able to see the field; at least, not the way you do.’
‘Really?’ Tiaan was astonished. ‘Then how can you use the thapter?’
‘My Art is very different to the Arts that other mancers use. I think I mentioned that once. I know where power is, and using this controller I can draw upon it, but I don’t see anything.’
‘So what’s at the other end of the Foshorn?’
‘The Hornrace, a chasm five hundred spans deep that separates Faranda from the continent of Lauralin. I’m sure you’ve heard it mentioned in the Great Tales. The chasm was once spanned by the Rainbow Bridge, the most beautiful of all our works on Santhenar, but it was thrown down by Rulke during the Clysm. He caused the very earth of the Foshorn to move, tearing the Rainbow Bridge asunder and toppling it into the chasm. The remains of the bridge can still be seen, tangled up in the rocks of the Trihorn Falls at the eastern end of the Hornrace. Only the four pillars of the bridge still stand, to remind us of what we have lost. I never thought I’d see them again.’
‘They must be mighty falls,’ said Tiaan.
‘Indeed, for the Foshorn is like a dam holding back the weight of the Sea of Thurkad and the Western Ocean behind it. The bed of the Dry Sea lies two thousand spans below the Sea of Thurkad, which has a powerful urge to reclaim it. The water races down the Hornrace as fast as this thapter can fly, but compared to the vastness of the Dry Sea it’s no more than a dribble down a lunatic’s chin.’
‘Perhaps I’m seeing a node associated with the chasm,’ said Tiaan. ‘No wonder it’s so huge, and so different.’
‘No wonder,’ said Malien, though there was a wary look in her eye. ‘Let’s see.’
They kept to a slow pace in order to lessen the strain, so it was late in the afternoon before they finally came in sight of the Hornrace. The thapter crept along the coast, which was incredibly rugged here, the mountains rising directly from the sea. They passed by one black headland after another and Tiaan felt her nerves tighten, as if each headland represented another turn of a clock spring. She already felt overwound.
The swirling patterns were everywhere now; she could hardly think for them. Flydd came up with a mug of tea, which she drank in a single draught. It tasted of ginger and the bitterness of willow bark, and shortly her headache began to ease.
Malien rounded another jagged headland and the tension snapped so tight that Tiaan could hardly draw breath. Malien took her hand, and Flydd – the scrutator himself – put his arm around her and held her up. Another dark headland loomed ahead.
‘The next will be the last,’ said Malien, controlling the thapter expertly with one hand. ‘Brace yourself.’
They rounded the last headland and the field struck Tiaan in the face like a flail. She cried out. Flydd opened the platinum box, Tiaan reached in and touched the amplimet, just for a moment, and the tornado of light and colour eased enough for her to open her eyes.
Just below them, the sea swirled in a series of whirlpools between rocks that stuck out of the water like the teeth of sharks, only black. Beyond, the current raced towards a dark slot in the cliff.
‘Go up a little,’ said Flydd as air currents buffeted them violently. He closed the platinum box, to Tiaan’s regret.
The thapter rose a few spans and the eddies grew less. They crept forward, rocking in the air. Forward, forward, and suddenly the chasm of the Hornrace opened up in front of them. The black cliffs towered so high that Tiaan had to crane her neck to see their tops.
A wild gust – a gale of air – struck the thapter and sent it tumbling. Had not the hatch crashed down they might all have been thrown out.
‘Straps!’ yelled Malien, clinging grimly to the controller.
Flydd put his arm through one of the sets of straps hanging from the back wall, then whipped two others across Tiaan’s shoulders and buckled her in. He did the same for Malien, and lastly for himself.
Malien gained control of the thapter but a wilder gust immediately flipped them upside down. She righted the machine and it was tossed the other way.