Chimaera - Ian Irvine Page 0,192

but she soon outdistanced Malien. After scooting up the stairs, she turned left and ran along the hall. Which room? She couldn’t remember what the guard had said. At the end, or near the end?

She pounded on the first door she came to, and then on several others. ‘Scrutator, Scrutator! Wake, wake! The enemy is nigh.’

There were cries of panic, shouting and an occasional scream, as if people thought the lyrinx were inside the palace. Shortly Xervish Flydd appeared at the end door, pulling a robe around his gristly frame.

‘Scrutator, surr?’ said Tiaan.

‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ he snapped.

‘Delayed,’ she lied. ‘We know where the enemy are, surr. They’re coming under a concealment of surpassing power, down through the forest on the north-eastern side of Booreah Ngurle.’ She partly unrolled her main map. ‘Here, surr. Their fliers could attack as early as tomorrow, and the whole army could enter northern Borgistry within two days.’

‘Attacking from the north,’ he breathed. ‘I never would have expected that. How can you be sure?’

Malien came hobbling up. ‘There’s so many of them that they’ve drained all the fields in a huge area, about ten leagues square, down to pinpricks.’

‘How do you know they haven’t put in node-drainers, to fool us?’ said Flydd.

‘Why would we check the fields in such a remote place?’

‘Come down to the war room. We’ll take a look at the big maps. I hope you’re right, Tiaan. If I direct our forces north, and they strike somewhere else …’

Two days after leaving Lybing, Nish was working in the command tent at Clew’s Top when Troist’s farspeaker gave forth a hollow tapping, like the flicking of a fingernail against a blown egg. He looked up. Troist was not there.

Nish did not know how to use a farspeaker, or even if he was capable of doing so. Putting his head through the flaps of the tent he bawled, ‘General Troist?’

A soldier standing a few paces away grinned and said, ‘He’s gone to the privy. He’ll be a while. The general suffers from a flux –’

‘Thank you, soldier!’

Nish ran to the farspeaker, which was still tapping, though more loudly. If it was already set, maybe all he had to do was talk. He tapped back. The farspeaker gave out a squelching noise, then a voice rumbled forth. It did not come from the farspeaker, rather from the air above it, and had an echoing, unearthly quality that made it hard to identify.

‘Troist? Is that you?’

‘Scrutator? It’s Nish. Troist is out at the bogs.’

‘Run and get him. We’ve found the enemy and they’re only days away.’

A spasm twisted Nish’s entrails. The moment had finally come. ‘Where?’ he cried.

‘From the north, east of Booreah Ngurle, if Tiaan is right.’

‘I’ll get Troist right away, surr.’

Nish ran down to the privies and yelled through the wall. ‘General Troist. Flydd is on the farspeaker. It’s urgent.’ He didn’t want to say more, since there could be a dozen men in the privies at any time and morale could easily be damaged.

‘I’m coming.’ Troist appeared after a short delay, holding his stomach.

Over the farspeaker, Flydd repeated what he had told Nish.

‘What are your orders, surr?’ said Troist. ‘What if Tiaan is wrong?’

‘Then we’re in as much trouble as if she’s right and we do nothing. Bring your army north to Ossury. How soon can you be there?’

‘My main force has only just got here from Strebbit, in their clankers,’ said Troist without consulting the map. ‘I’ll bring them north without delay, leaving the rest here. I can’t leave this place undefended. On good roads, going night and day, we should be able to reach Ossury in two and a half days, as long as we don’t have too many breakdowns. And as long as the fields last. There have been a few failures around here lately. How about there?’

‘The same,’ said Flydd. ‘We haven’t lost a node yet but the fields grow more unreliable by the day. Take the usual precautions and spread your clankers out. We can’t afford another loss like Hannigor. Goodbye.’

‘No surr,’ said Troist. ‘We cannot.’

‘What was Hannigor?’ said Nish.

‘It’s a village down south, between Saludith and Thuxgate. Fifty-four clankers were travelling close together at full speed, coming to the aid of a smaller force that had been ambushed by the enemy last autumn. They must have taken more from the field than could be borne. A sphere of light formed around them, collapsed, and they vanished. Even the ground they were travelling over was

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