He pulled the reins with all his might but it made no difference. The terrified horse galloped into the darkness. The next time there was lightning he could not see anyone. Once again his life was running out of control.
Not this time. Nish hauled the reins back savagely and to the right. The horse reared up, propped and tried to throw him. Letting go of the reins, Nish caught the saddle straps with both hands and hung on. The next heave lifted him in the air. He pulled himself down. 'Stop it, you stupid nag!' he roared. 'There's a bloody war on!'
He went one way, and then the other, but Nish did not fall. The horse was tiring rapidly. It stood still, and the next flash of lightning, closer than the other, only made it rear its head.
Taking up the reins, he gave the horse a pat on the flank, took his bearings and began to ride around in circles that extended away from the creek, each one larger than the previous. On the fifth of these he saw the three shadows, standing quietly, and rode up to them.
'Perhaps we should rope together until the storm is over,' he said to Mounce. The storm went east; they headed north-east. Within half an hour it was just a mutter on the horizon. They did not hurry, since the ground was too stony for rapid riding in darkness. As dawn streaked the sky ahead, they approached another ribbon of trees. The plain looked exactly as it had for the past month: grey grass, brown stones, and as flat as a table.
'Where are we heading?' he said to Yara.
She sat her saddle upright as a post, though she must have been as weary as he was. She studied him for some time before answering. After his failure as an envoy Yara had barely spoken to Nish, and clearly she had misgivings about him now. With reason, if he was honest with himself.
'A place in the Worm Wood,' she said coldly.
How far is that?' Geography was not one of Nish's strengths.
'The forest is a few days away, if we can ride uninterrupted.' She glanced up at the sky, then back at him as if weighing him up. If a lyrinx spotted them and decided to attack, Nish could not save them.
'I won't fail you,' Nish said, trying to reassure himself as much as her.
'I believe you made that promise to Troist a while back.'
Yara held his gaze until he was forced to look away. She was terrified for her children and counted him as near useless. It was not a good moment.
They camped by a river, the most substantial one Nish had encountered in many days. It actually had banks, a higher set and a lower. They built a fire next to the higher bank, which was a head-high wall of yellow, pebbly earth. There was plenty of dry wood here, and ribbons of twisted bark that burned as bright as a candle, giving off little smoke.
The girls curled up on a blanket and slept. Nish could not – he had to prove himself to Yara and was determined to do so.
'If you're not going to sleep, surr, I'll take a few hours,' said Mounce.
'Do that,' said Nish. 'I'll keep watch.'
Yara rested against a tree, eyes going everywhere, a short sword at her left hand. Nish climbed the bank and looked around. Nothing moved on the flat plain. The other side of the river looked just the same. He walked back and forth, discovering a pair of ancient trees with patterns carved into their trunks. Growth swelled around the markings, partly obscuring them and obliterating any meaning, at least to Nish's eyes.
Mounce relieved the interminable watch at midday and Nish took his turn on the blanket. They set off as the sun was going down, wading the river, which hardly came up to the horses' bellies.
Twice, from his lookout high in a tree, Nish saw riders in the distance. He made sure that Mounce and the others stayed well hidden until the riders moved away. He expected thanks from Yara but got none.
In this way they travelled for three more days, toward a growing smudge on the eastern horizon. Yara barely spoke to Nish and double-checked everything he did. She did not trust him at all. Even the children were quiet.
Hilly country now lay ahead. On the fourth morning they were close enough to see that it was clad in forest.
'Why is it forest there,' Nish wondered, 'and not in Almadin?'
'Good, deep soil,' said Mounce. 'Not this stony muck.' He kicked a pebble.
They rested for the morning and continued after lunch. There was an hour of daylight left by the time Nish, who was scouting ahead, reached the first of the trees. He rode back to confer with Yara about their route.
'I wouldn't call this forest,' said Nish, eyeing the scattered copses.
'There's woodcutting here on the edge,' said Yara. 'You'll see trees enough before we get to where we're going. Shouldn't you be up ahead, scouting out our path?'
That was unfair. 'Which way?' he snapped.
'Don't speak to me like that, soldier.'
A bitter retort was on Nish's lips when he heard a familiar, disturbing whine.
'What's that?' cried Yara, jerking her sword from its scabbard.
A construct emerged from the trees to the front of them. Another appeared behind.
'If you've betrayed us, Nish, you're dead!'
T HIRTY-FIVE
The soldiers held her arms. Irisis looked around frantically but the blank walls of manufactory and cistern offered no escape. Jal-Nish was going to mutilate her.
He slashed down. Irisis flinched; she could not help herself. The sword stopped, resting on her outstretched arm.
'It's not that easy, Irisis.' Jal-Nish uttered a liquid chuckle, like vomit splashing in a bucket. 'You haven't suffered enough.'
'If you're going to do it, then do it!' she screamed.
'Oh, I'll do it, but not on your timetable.'
He raised the sword. Would he cut this time? Irisis did not think so, but neither was he predictable. He might just take a finger, or her nose. What if he did that, then let her live? She was too vain to endure such an existence. She tried to pull away but the soldiers held her firmly.
'Please,' she said in a throaty whisper. 'I'll do anything you want.' She would have. Dignity meant nothing before the threat of mutilation. She heaved her bosom toward the nearest soldier.
Jal-Nish snorted. 'You'll make no ground there, crafter. They have eyes only for each other.'
Irisis stared at the pair, horrified. 'But… that's a capital crime! How can -?' She recalled that Jal-Nish had a taste for his own sex.
'They've done their duty and fathered soldiers. What they do in their own time is none of my affair.' Jal-Nish pressed the sword point against her shoulder. It went through her coat and shirt, to break the skin. 'Just there, I think.'
He whipped the sword up, but as he was about to bring it down someone bellowed from the top of the manufactory wall.
'Lower your sword, Jal-Nish, or I'll put a bolt right through your good eye.' It was the scrutator's voice.
'Shoot and be damned!' Jal-Nish brought down the sword.
As Flydd spoke, the soldiers had spun around. Irisis jerked free and dived at Jal-Nish's legs. The sword came down so hard that it struck the ground behind her.
Jal-Nish raised the weapon to plunge it through her back, but with a tinny clang his head was jerked sideways. He clawed at the mask. The crossbow bolt, fired with only half-power, had slammed into the platinum cheekpiece, gone two-thirds of the way through, then stuck. Bilious yellow foam oozed from beneath the mask. A clot quivered on his collar, speckled with bright blood.
'Kill her!' he gasped. 'Kill the scrutator too.'
Irisis had her knife out, not that it would be any use against swordsmen. Ducking behind Jal-Nish, she whipped his single arm up behind his back as hard as she could. Putting the blade to his throat she yelled, 'Tell them to stand back or I'll take your head right off.'
'Think you that I care?' he raged. 'Kill her, even if you have to kill me first.'
The soldiers came at her from either side. Jal-Nish was a hindrance now so she put her foot in the middle of his back and sent him flying. Going into a crouch, she swayed from side to side, trying to keep both swordsmen in view at once.