‘Pass down your bow,’ she said.
After a silence, it appeared. The soldier grunted his way up. Irisis fitted the bolt, wound back the crank and took aim where the lower ladder came up onto the cistern.
Nothing happened for such a long time that she regretted waiting. She could have been halfway up the flume by now. Then, from the corner of her eye, a head appeared over the edge of the cistern. Someone had climbed the side. Irisis was about to shoot when another head topped the ladder. She had just one bolt.
The man on the ladder appeared first. She pointed the weapon at him and fired. He was moving fast and the bolt caught him high in the chest, just below the collarbone. Arms flailing, he went sideways into the water with an enormous splash.
The other man kept coming. Irisis climbed the ladder, awkwardly holding the crossbow. The soldier, moving like lightning, reached the bottom of the ladder before she was at the top. Springing high, he caught the third rung and raced up as if trained as an acrobat. She kicked at his face but he swayed out of the way, grabbed her boot and heaved. Irisis nearly fell. She kicked again, catching him in the mouth. He went down four rungs before he managed to stop.
At the top, rough stone bordered the water channel. It sloped up steeply here. The man was after her again. She was too exhausted to get away. All she had was a knife and a crossbow without any bolts. The man had a sword, against which a knife was useless. The crossbow was no help without bolts but she did not want to abandon it.
Irisis backed up, keeping him in sight, and slipped the knife into the bolt slot of the crossbow, just to see if it would fit. It did, more or less. The soldier was watching her, coming warily now. He laughed aloud at the makeshift weapon, which was as likely to jam and hurl shards of metal back in her face.
Irisis fitted the wire over the hilt. It would probably slip off as she fired. She sighted on the centre of the soldier’s body.
‘Go back or I’ll fire,’ she said, and to Irisis’s disgust there was a quaver in her voice.
‘Go on!’ he smirked.
She did. The knife shot out, too fast to see, to embed itself to the hilt in the man’s chest. He lost his footing, fell into the flume and slid down, thump-thumping all the way.
Irisis fled, up and up. Before she reached the top the first soldiers appeared below. One went to his knees, aimed at her and fired. It was a steep uphill shot, difficult to calculate, and Irisis was not surprised that it fell short, ricocheting into the channel. The next was closer but by then Irisis had gained the top. Another soldier moved into firing position as she ducked out of sight.
Jym was waiting with the other crossbow and a bag of bolts. She fitted one into her weapon, cranked it and they set off, running together up the now gentle slope. ‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘You need a break.’
Some break! She pounded up the rough path. Yorme was a long way ahead, lumping the scrutator and his own pack. Irisis was still far from catching him when a shout echoed behind her.
Jym had gone down on one knee, aiming at the throng which had burst up over the rise. They were a couple of hundred paces behind him. He fired at the group and was lucky enough to see one fall.
Irisis now saw the weak point of the plan. If he waited to reload, they would have crossed half the distance and he would still have only one shot, while there were at least a dozen of them. The range was long but with so many firing, one would get them. A lucky shot could even bring her down.
She jumped into the dry channel, scrambled up the other side where she had a clear view, took aim and fired. So many soldiers were clustered together that she was bound to strike one. Irisis was dismayed to discover that she had not. They did check, however, enough for Jym to run for his life.
Several bolts came screaming after him, striking sparks out of the sides of the aqueduct, but none hit and she had time to get off another shot before he reached her. This one was better aimed. The man in the lead went down as if he had been struck with a boulder.
That stopped them. Irisis and Jym ran on, on opposite sides of the channel. They were out of range of all but an accidental hit.
‘How far is it?’ she shouted.
‘Best part of a league.’
Irisis forced herself to keep moving, though she could not keep up. By the time she reached the top of the slope, the enemy were back in range. She stopped to catch her breath and a bolt passed between her knees. That gave her just enough impetus to claw her way onto a gentler slope.
Not far on, she encountered the others. Flydd was on his feet now, a trickle of red running from his left nostril. He managed a smile, a horrible, death’s-head affair.
Hers was no better. ‘How are you, Xervish?’ she gasped.
‘I can walk,’ he said wanly.
‘Walking is no bloody good at all! Can you run as though all the hounds of hell were after you? They’re gaining fast.’
‘I can’t,’ he said, ‘but I may be able to do something better.’
‘I look forward to seeing it.’
‘You won’t. Go on and don’t look back.’
‘I — But, surr!’
‘Do it!’ His voice was harsh with strain. ‘Now!’
She stumbled after the others, but after a few minutes Irisis stopped. The soldiers must be coming up the rise. What could the silly old fool do in his condition?
Flydd was standing like a spread-legged skeleton, holding his arms out and up so he had the form of an ‘X’. He looked as if he was trying to summon a bolt from the heavens.
The soldiers topped the rise. Two went to their knees, pointing weapons at him. The bolts would tear him apart. Why didn’t he do something? Or was he sacrificing himself so that they could get away?
A ball of mist emerged between him and the soldiers. If he was attempting some kind of illusion, it was too late. They would just fire straight through it. She took a couple of steps toward him. The mist grew. The soldiers fired.
Two red streaks appeared inside the mist, swelled, coalesced, and white fire burst out in all directions, so bright that it burned her eyes. She blinked and rubbed her eyes but could see nothing at all. Reeling backwards, she fell into the channel, which fortunately held only a trickle of water.
Irisis came to her knees. I can’t see, she thought, panicking. I’m blind! She blundered into one side of the channel, then the other. It was as if she had lost all her other faculties as well.
‘You bloody fool!’ panted the scrutator, pulling her to her feet. ‘As if I don’t have enough to do. Stand up!’
‘I can’t,’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t see.’
He struck her across the face. ‘You imbecile, Irisis. I told you not to look back. Take my hand.’
She clutched it as if she was never going to let go.
‘Take it, I said, don’t crush it.’
He dragged her along the aqueduct. It was surprising how hard it was to walk when she could not see. Irisis kept stumbling, and once her balance went she did not know how to right herself.
‘What did you do, Xervish?’
‘Scrutator magic,’ he said with a hoarse chuckle. ‘I’m forbidden to speak of it. Keep moving.’
‘I don’t see what there’s to laugh about. I’ve lost my sight.’
‘Serves you right for being such a stickybeak!’
‘You might be a little bit sympathetic,’ she said forlornly.
‘I’ve got troubles of my own and your stupidity has just doubled them.’
She closed up. This was the old, hard side of the scrutator. She’d forgotten that as their relationship developed.
They caught up to the others. ‘Are you all right, surr?’ asked Yorme.
‘I’ve been better. And then again I’ve been worse, though not by much.’
‘What’s happened to the crafter, surr?’ asked Jym.