And yet, he did not think Deroe had taken the master nuclix. Several times, after burning through his servant’s brain, the wrythen had glimpsed enigmatic flashes of a band of his own people, and behind them the scenery of the Seethings, as though seeing it from another’s eyes — the host’s eyes. He had also seen a scrawny little slave girl and, once, his brain-burnt servant, arms out-thrust as though pleading to his master. Unfortunately, the wrythen had not been able to find them again. Had the host discovered how to block the call?
What else might she do? He could not guess — she was unpredictable. What if she discovered how to use her nuclix to bolster her own magery? That risked everything and could not be allowed.
It was remarkable that his faithful servant had survived at all, but a matter of wonder that he had recovered enough to try and follow the wrythen’s orders. Could he succeed? The wrythen did not think so. The host girl was more than his match. And since he could not contact his servant, it left him no choice.
The facinore was evolving, which made it even more perilous to use, but it was all he had. He would direct it to the place from where the last call had come, and urge it to make haste. The host had to be taken now, or killed if she could not be taken alive. Her death would set his plans back by decades but it was better than the alternatives. If she got out of the Seethings he would lose her, either to his own people or the enemy.
Either alternative would be disastrous.
CHAPTER 48
‘Ready?’ said Tobry. ‘If we can hit Orlyk, and take the others down, we run and … and try to get Tali away before the other squad arrives.’
‘What if we miss?’ said Rix.
Tobry did not answer.
‘We might take down three,’ Rix added, focusing his telescope on the sinewy woman behind Orlyk. Something about her still bothered him, and it wasn’t just her thick glass tube, half the length of a magian’s staff, that was suspiciously yellow at the tip, ‘Though that still leaves two. It only takes one to cut Tali’s throat.’
‘You don’t need to spell it out,’ Tobry said faintly.
He was unnaturally pale. ‘You like her,’ said Rix.
Tobry shrugged. ‘I like lots of people.’
‘No, you really like her.’ Tobry remained friends with all the women he had ever known, though Rix could not recall him really liking anyone before.
‘Do your damned job and keep your thoughts to yourself!’
Rix managed a smile. They watched the line. Tali was a diminutive figure in the middle, with Tinyhead head and shoulders above her.
‘What’s the tube for?’ said Rix.
‘How would I know?’ Tobry studied the line. ‘Bastard of a shot, side-on, but if we can get Orlyk to stop and turn this way — ’
‘Toss a stone across onto the rubble,’ said Rix. ‘She’ll look up at the noise.’
‘If she knows we’re here — ’
‘Rocks fall down hills all the time. Besides, it’ll take her a few seconds to pick us out among the boulders. By then your arrow will spit her.’
‘It had better.’
‘Don’t suppose you can help it on its way with magery?’
‘My magery isn’t that subtle.’
‘Let’s hope your aim is.’
Rix drew back the phial-headed arrow to the fullest extent of the string and sighted on Orlyk’s middle, then moved his head so Tobry could correct the aim.
Tobry felt the curve of the bow, the tension of the string, then nudged the tail of the arrow slightly down, slightly across.
‘Your hand’s shaking,’ said Rix. Tobry was normally iron in a crisis.
As Tobry steadied his hand, a drop of sweat ran down his cheek.
What if the wrythen can get to him when he’s awake? What if he possesses Tobry now and makes him aim for Tali instead of Orlyk? Rix could not tell from his angle.
Forcing himself to dismiss worries he could do nothing about, he visualised the arrow flying all the way to the target. Tali’s life rested in the steadiness of his hands, possibly the survival of Hightspall as well, and Rix was rock-calm. He might not be the sharpest sword in the armoury but action was what he was made for.
Tobry nudged the arrow with a fingernail. ‘Perfect. Tossing the stone, now.’
It clacked twenty yards across the slope. Orlyk stopped and turned, looking up.
Rix fired, picked up the second arrow in one smooth movement and fixed on the sinewy woman. Tobry adjusted aim for the slightly heavier arrow. Rix fired, took the third arrow, fired again.
Orlyk was turning away when the phial smashed against her upper chest and the shaft of the arrow buried itself deep. She fell, alternately hurling her arms out and snapping them tight around her. The sinewy woman with the glass tube was snatching at something on her belt when the second arrow speared through her belly muscles from side to side. Her face twisted, but she hurled the object high and barbed sparks exploded upwards from it like a skyrocket — a call for help.
She was crumbling now, holding her belly, though she managed to skid an apple-sized object across the ground and thick, opaque smoke belched out. The third arrow skimmed Tinyhead’s forehead and Rix cursed. It would have killed anyone with a normal-sized head.
The rear guard was turning to run for the boulders when the fourth arrow skewered him in the buttocks, doubling him over like a rooster with a single tail feather and driving him to all-fours.
‘This isn’t good,’ said Tobry, leaping up in a scatter of gravel.
Only three hits, none of the five killed, and the two on the ground could not be seen through the low-hanging smoke.
‘Where’s Tali?’ Rix had lost sight of her. He ran.
The uninjured guard yanked the man with the tail arrow to his feet, shouting and waving a long knife. The injured man drew a curved knife and began to creep about, looking for Tali.
‘Tinyhead’s dragged her behind the boulders,’ choked Tobry, who was yards ahead. ‘Come on.’
Rix’s inner calm had vanished. Tinyhead could be knifing her right now. Compounding his problems, the troop at the other end of the isthmus was running. They had seen the signal. He lengthened his stride to pass Tobry and thundered down the rubble slope, bow in hand. Firing on the run from this distance would mean wasting his last arrow, but as soon as he was within range he would take Tinyhead down. Rix prayed that the man had not slain Tali already.
A gust cleared the smoke at the front of the line. Orlyk was still convulsing on the ground, almost tying her stocky body into knots. How long would she be disabled? It would depend how much hallucinogenic water had touched her, and she might recover suddenly. Rix prayed that the water had been carried deep into her bloodstream.
‘Can you see Tali?’ panted Tobry, now five yards behind.
Rix did not answer. He lacked the breath.
‘Watch out for woman — glass tube,’ yelled Tobry. ‘Think she’s a pothecky.’
Chills spiralled down Rix’s back. ‘A what?’
He could not make out Tobry’s reply. Rix sprang over a corrugated outcrop of orange rock. While in the air he saw Tinyhead struggling with Tali near the boulders, then the flash of sunlight, as if off a knife.
Rix could not shoot — he was as likely to hit her. The sinewy pothecky was standing now, heaving out the arrow. She was one tough woman. Blood was pouring from both sides of her belly and the pain must be extreme, but she thumbed something into the end of the glass tube and swung it around towards Tali. Rix knew it was intended to kill. He aimed his last arrow and fired on the run, but could his arrow reach his target before the pothecky blew her deadly dart?
The arrow thumped into her upper arm. She swayed, almost dropped the tube but caught it again and began to raise it. Could nothing take her down? She lowered it, looking around in puzzlement, then slumped to the ground.