the stone wall, staring into the crater. Fumes were now belching out of it; an explosion sent boulders arcing through the air.
Gilhaelith watched them rise and fall. One landed on the crater’s rim just a few hundred paces away. Another crashed through an outside walkway of Nyriandiol, tearing most of it away and sending it plunging into the bubbling lake.
He took something out of his pocket. It looked to be a smooth round rock with a hollow in the centre, though it was shiny, as if it had been polished. Gilhaelith weighed it in his hand, tossed it up and caught it, then drew back his arm and hurled it high, out towards the centre of the crater. As it fell he spoke five lines in a language Nish had never heard.
The stone disappeared into the roiling clouds. Nish realised that he was holding his breath. The ground shook, shook again and with a roar that hurt his eardrums the centre of the crater erupted upwards with colossal force, a cataclysm of steam, pulverised rock and red-hot particles of lava.
Nish bolted to the thapter. Gilhaelith followed with calm and measured steps. As he climbed inside, the debris was boiling towards them.
‘To the Marches of Tacnah,’ he said. ‘And be quick about it.’
PART FIVE
WELL OF ECHOES
SIXTY-ONE
The following afternoon, Irisis and Tiaan were putting the core of their crude field controller together when Golias’s globe belched. ‘Flydd, Flydd? Troist here.’
Irisis didn’t look up. Tiaan seemed to understand what she was doing but Irisis felt as though she were working blind and Flydd had been fretting at their lack of progress.
He ran to the globe. ‘What is it? Are you under attack?’
‘We’ve been under attack for two days, Scrutator. I’ve been calling and calling but couldn’t raise you.’ Why not, was the unspoken implication.
‘Sorry,’ said Flydd. ‘We’ve been using the farspeaker for something else. Is everything all right?’
‘We’re surviving. Tiaan’s idea was a brilliant one.’
‘What idea?’ said Flydd distractedly.
‘Shouting into the farspeaker, remember? It only works if the enemy are within twenty or thirty paces, but it knocks them down for a minute or two, and if we change the setting it keeps knocking them down. I’ve issued slave farspeakers to as many units as I could. We’ve driven off quite a few attacks that way, though with heavy casualties. Two thousand so far, and eight hundred of those are dead.’
‘Two thousand …’ said Flydd, unconsciously clenching one fist. ‘It could have been worse, I suppose.’
‘I weep for every life lost,’ said Troist. There was a heavy silence, broken only by squelches and clicks in the background. ‘But that’s not what I’ve called about. Yggur was right about Gilhaelith. I should never have trusted him, though his timely warnings did save many lives. He’s just played his hand.’
‘What’s he done now?’ cried Flydd.
‘He stole Kimli’s thapter and flew north, just half an hour ago.’
‘Has he gone over to the enemy?’ Flydd asked dully.
‘I’ve no idea, surr.’
Shortly Flydd set down the farspeaker and turned to Yggur. ‘Gilhaelith took Nish with him in Kimli’s thapter, as well as Merryl and four soldiers, one of whom was Flangers.’
Irisis dropped the assembly she was trying to put together. Crystals and tiny silver clips went everywhere but she didn’t move to pick them up. ‘Why did he take Nish?’
‘He was helping Merryl to listen in to the enemy’s mindspeech.’
‘What’s Gilhaelith up to?’ said Yggur, who seemed to be resisting the urge to say ‘I told you so’.
‘Troist doesn’t know,’ said Flydd. ‘Unfortunately, Gilhaelith took most of the mindspeech records. Troist has the last page, which mentions Matriarch Gyrull and some relics that seem to have precipitated his hasty departure.’
‘The relics they took from Snizort?’ said Yggur.
‘I don’t know. Pack everything up; we’re going to Booreah Ngurle. That’s probably where he’s headed.’
‘He’ll be long gone before we get there.’
‘Not if we hurry. We’re not much further away.’
But it took longer than expected to pack the partly assembled field controller, and when they reached Booreah Ngurle late in the night it was erupting violently. They settled in the forest for a few hours’ sleep, returning at dawn. They could not see the crest of the volcano for dust and falling rocks, and of course there was no sign of the thapter.
‘That’s the end of Nyriandiol,’ said Flydd soberly as Malien circled at a safe distance. ‘One of the most extraordinary places ever built. It’s a shame.’