Chimaera - Ian Irvine Page 0,54

the latch, trying to discover how it worked. The moaning from the thyrimode grew louder, as if it were grinding itself to pieces. He glanced over his shoulder at Nish, who hadn’t moved.

‘I can smell something burning,’ Aln called.

Larg did not answer. Aln lifted the hatch of the mechanism, releasing thick clouds of brown, acrid smoke. The shrilling grew so loud that it made Nish’s ears ache.

‘Larg, Larg, we’re afire!’ Aln was on his knees, staring into the hole, but made no attempt to lower the hatch. He had no idea what to do.

Larg came thumping down the ladder and ran across the chamber. He took one look into the cavity, which was still belching fumes, then banged the hatch down.

‘What are we supposed to do now?’ said Aln. ‘If it’s destroyed, Ghorr will blame us. We’re dead men, Larg.’

Larg paled. He stared around the chamber, his larynx working. ‘We’ll have to put it out. See if you can find some water –’

The room was thick with smoke. Nish slowly rose to his feet, trying to appear frightened. Neither of the soldiers took any notice.

‘Water’s no good,’ said Aln. ‘We’ll need to smother it with sand or something.’ He began to pull out the drawers, feverishly.

‘Sand will ruin the mechanism,’ said Larg, heading towards the ladder. ‘See if you can find a rug or a blanket.’

Aln stared at the fuming hatch despairingly, then followed, evidently unwilling to remain below on his own. Nish tensed. This might be the only chance he got. When Aln came by, Nish rotated on the ball of one foot, swinging the heavy prise-bar hard and low with his bound hands.

It struck the soldier on the kneecap with a nauseating crack, he went down and Nish fell on him from behind, driving his knees into the fellow’s back. As Aln hit the floor, Nish managed to fumble the knife from his belt.

He went backwards, trying to manipulate the blade with his bound hands so as to cut his bonds. It was an awkward operation, almost impossible.

‘Larg!’ cried Aln. ‘Help.’

Nish slipped the knife through his fingers until he could touch his wrist ropes with the tip of the blade, though he couldn’t exert much force. He pushed the tip across his ropes, pulled it back then pushed it again.

Larg appeared, feet first. He drew his own blade and began to come down, one step at a time. Nish pushed again and again. The ropes did not give. He forced harder and the point of the blade dug into his wrist, drawing blood.

‘Drop it!’ said Larg, reaching the bottom of the ladder.

Nish pushed too hard and the knife slipped from his fingers and skidded across the floor. He looked up at the soldier in desperation. He didn’t bother to go after the blade – Larg could cut his throat before he reached it and, with bound hands, he couldn’t possibly attack an able-bodied soldier armed with a knife.

Larg smiled evilly, sprang onto the floor and kept going down. What was the matter with him? A thread of blood began to ooze from the side of the soldier’s neck, where a tiny knife had been embedded to the hilt.

Nish went to the ladder. Malien stood at the top, the gag around her throat, swaying.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘How did you do that?’

‘I used the control levers to tear off the gag, then employed my Art to loosen my bonds. Take his knife and come up.’

Nish did so. She freed his wrists and he carefully fastened the lower hatch. Cracking the upper hatch, he peered out through the gap.

‘I can’t see anyone on the air-dreadnought.’

‘That’s bad. They must all be dead.’

Nish blanched.

‘Or round the other side,’ she added hastily.

He opened the hatch a fraction more. ‘No, I can see Irisis, at the controller. It looks as though she’s trying to pilot the air-dreadnought. Trying to turn it.’

‘Find out why,’ said Malien, polishing a blue-green striated crystal on her sleeve and inserting it into its socket. ‘She was supposed to follow me.’ Gripping the controller levers with both hands, she strained until her face went red. Nothing happened.

Nish climbed up through the hatch and let out a yelp. ‘Malien, we’re heading directly for another air-dreadnought. Its rope is tangled in the trees.’

‘The thapter doesn’t want to go,’ she said calmly.

‘Do you think it could be because I put the mechanism into test mode?’ said Nish.

‘You did what?’

He explained. ‘It was all I could think of to distract the soldiers.’

‘Run down and

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