Thirty-eight

The Aachim fired. One or two missiles struck the racing construct but the others fell behind, then Tiaan was out of range. They could not pursue her — they were leagues from the nearest field and would have to send a runner to the southern camp, which must take hours. But once the Aachim knew what she had done, whether Minis lived or died, they would hunt her to the corners of the globe.

How had it gone so wrong, so quickly? Perhaps she'd judged Minis too harshly. How could she have expected him to help her by betraying his own people? And, having forced him to, the flaws in her own character had been exposed. She was worse than he was. She was the most contemptible speck of ordure in all Lauralin.

This was the worst day of all. Her beloved grandmother had taught her to face her problems, and Tiaan had always tried to do that. Now she had run away. Tormented and tormenting herself, she headed south across the plains. After crossing the Westway that ran south-west towards Gnulp Landing, and northeast in the direction of Clews Top and The Elbow, and then the River Zort, she turned west. The original Aachim camp was near Gospett and she must avoid it too. The town itself had been practically emptied of its population, to drag the clanker fleet to the node.

This land, within raiding distance from lyrinx-infested Meldorin, seemed unoccupied. She saw no sign of human habitation all day. Late in the afternoon she passed into forest. The field was strong here, so Tiaan travelled as fast as she could, racing through the trees until it was too dark to see.

The amplimet was no longer drawing power of its own accord. She stopped the construct and slumped in the seat, staring into the blackness. She could not bear to think about what she had become.

Her brain swarmed with crystal dreams, so guilt-inducing that she forced herself to wake from them. It was overcast: no stars, no moon, nor any way of telling the time. The spaces between the trees were as black as the tar pits.

Even when awake, she kept slipping in and out of those dreams, just as she had that time at the manufactory, before her calluna-induced madness. Perhaps it really was crystal fever this time.

Tiaan could not find it in herself to care. Madness would be an escape; a refuge. She almost found herself looking forward to it. Until she sensed something.

What was it? Pulling herself up onto the top of the construct, she stared around her. Something was definitely different, though she could see nothing, hear nothing. She slid down, put on the helm and checked the field. It looked the same as before. Or did it?

When she studied it closely, Tiaan noticed tiny distortions here and there. It took a while for her to work out what they were, for she was not used to seeing the field that way. Without the helm she would never have noticed it.

Something was drawing on the field. She enlarged the image in her mind and checked it carefully. There were tiny fluctuations, like nibbles out of its myriad frilled edges, and they marked the drainage of power. People were following her in constructs. A runner must have reached the main camp. Tiaan did not think they could find her in the dark, while she was not drawing on the field. Closing the hatch, she lay on the floor and tried to sleep. It did not come, but as she watched the ebb and flow of the field, she noticed more of those distortions. The field had nibbles out of it everywhere, which meant lots of constructs. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. She recalled Vithis using an aura-tracker at Nyriandiol. He was following with everything the Aachim had and he could track the amplimet's aura wherever she took it. That many constructs could even surround the great forest. There was nowhere to hide. Why had she stopped here? She should have kept to the plains, where she could move in darkness, and continued all night.

Tiaan fought down panic. She tried to recall a map of the Gospett area but it would not come to mind. She could, however, visualise a chart of Western Lauralin. The Sea of Thurkad lay about ten leagues to her west, and was narrow there. Dare she go that way? Crossing seas while depending on the field was hazardous; everyone knew that. And on the other side, Meldorin Island was infested with lyrinx. Surely not even Vithis would dare hunt her there?

To her north lay open plains all the way to Almadin. Northeast was the enormous Worm Wood, and the rugged lands around the Great Chain of Lakes, with its rift valleys and volcanic ranges, including Booreah Ngurle. But there were Aachim in the north already and Vithis could signal them at night. They would cut her off before she could find a hiding place.

Open country also lay to the east, the impoverished state of Nihilnor that ran to the ranges encircling Mirrilladell. In that land's myriad lakes, vast swamps and endless forests she might lose herself forever, if she was prepared to sink the construct into the depths and adopt a peasant life in the middle of nowhere. Though what would be the point of that? Besides, Mirrilladell was too far away. As soon as she stopped to sleep, as eventually she must, they would have her.

South lay the Karama Malama, the treacherous Sea of Mists, almost as big as the linked seas of Milmillamel and Tallallamel, down which she'd sailed for weeks on her journey to Tirthrax and Minis. Only death by drowning lay that way, once she passed out of range of the node.

So west it would have to be, to Meldorin and the lyrinx, the instant it was light enough to move. Daylight stole like a ghost through the trees. She'd hoped for fog or mist but it had been a warm night and the air was clear and still. Bringing the construct to life, she edged it forwards, took bearings from the flush of dawn in the east, and turned west.

The forest was dense here and it was slow going. Sometimes she found herself in places too tight to get through and had to back the machine out again, sweating all the while in case her enemies came upon her.

She had been travelling for some hours when Tiaan detected a much stronger influence on the field. Though she could not tell which direction they were coming from, they had to be close by. The forest was thinner here. She travelled faster, winding between the white-trunked pines and up a gentle incline where the rocks were black and the soil red. According to her mental map, she should only be a few leagues from the shores of the Sea of Thurkad. Of course, her mental map might be wrong. Once Tiaan would have known but she couldn't tell any more.

The slope became steeper; the upper parts of the hill forming a series of cliffs a span or two high, broken by ramp-like inclines. She took the nearest of these, whirring across the tussocky grass and up again, through a moist patch of forest dotted with tree ferns.

On the top of the hill, which was like a rocky pimple rising above the trees, she turned the construct through a circle. Tiaan saw nothing but a series of scalloped ridges covered in forest. Behind her the rocks outcropped in a stack like roughly piled books, several times her height. She cut off the field. All was quiet.

Tiaan got out and began to climb the stack but her knee folded and she tumbled down again, taking a gouge out of her wrist. Her legs lacked the strength to push her up. She had to drag herself all the way.

She checked the horizons. To south, east and north she could see only trees, but in the west she spotted water. The Sea of Thurkad lay no more than a couple of leagues away. Tiaan prayed there was no obstacle in her path, for constructs could rise no more than hip-high and even the smallest cliff would defeat them.

The sun was hot on her bare head and her knees felt shaky. She took a sip from the flask at her hip, regretted that she had nothing to eat, and sat down. Had she stood a moment longer, she would have seen movement in the trees beyond the foot of the hill.

She leaned forward, rubbing her aching calves. It still felt strange to have feeling in her legs, and she often had nightmares that she was paralysed again. She kneaded the muscles until they hurt.

Something cracked in the distance. She sat up straight. It had sounded like a breaking branch, or a dislodged stone. Peering over the edge, Tiaan saw constructs everywhere. A line of them were creeping up the hill, taking one of the few clear paths to the top. Further down she saw others, waiting to block off any escape.

Sliding off the side of the stack, she lowered herself as far as her arms could reach, feeling around with her toes for a foothold. Her fingers lost their grip. She fell, landed on the edge of a lower ledge, which broke off, and crashed onto the slope below. It moved under her and she slid all the way to the bottom on her backside, ending up next to her construct in a deluge of gravel.

She made it into the machine as the first construct came over the crest. Tiaan whirled hers around and headed in the other direction. Too late; the Aachim were coming that way as well.

The only advantage she had, and it was a tiny one, was that she could take more power than they could. Tiaan spun the machine, buckling her belt with her free hand and pulling it tight. She would need it. All the paths were guarded — there was no way out unless she went over the edge.

Once again, she had nothing to lose. She kept spinning until the construct was at the centre of a whirling cloud of dust, leaves and torn-up grass. When she could see nothing at all, Tiaan took a random direction and gave the construct all the power she could bear. If she had no idea which way she was going, it must take them by surprise, The construct roared out of the dust, straight for the largest tree on the edge of the hill. The leading machine fired a missile shaped like a javelard spear. She saw it out of the corner her eye but the shooter had misjudged her speed — it missed by a span. The construct rocketed towards the tree. Let them think she was out of control. At the last instant she sprung left and went off the edge, where the hill dropped away sharply below the little cliff.

Her stomach slid into her throat. The drop was steeper than she remembered — a good two spans. When she struck the slope it could smash in the bottom of the construct. She eased back the controller, then, just before the construct hit, drew power hard. The machine slowed as if it had landed in a cushion of dough. The rear struck first with a shower of sparks and the sound of rending metal, tipping the front down. Tiaan thought it was going to tumble end over end, but the base slid and bounced down the tussocky slope, slowing so sharply that her head struck the binnacle. The machine slammed into a patch of tree ferns, shearing them off, before slewing sideways, the front heading towards a rock, the rear for a tree.

 She fought the controls, managed to straighten it up and slid between the obstacles. Ahead was a staggered line of constructs; she could see half a dozen. They were tracking her with springfired javelards which, in the hands of skilled operators, were deadly accurate at this distance. The Aachim were skilled at everything they did. With their long life spans, they had the time to master any craft they desired.

The javelard spears looked designed to attack armoured soldiers and lyrinx, though they might not be able to penetrate the tough metal of the construct.

The two directly in front of her fired together. She ducked, a club-headed missile, similar to the kind that had killed little Haani, thumped into the open hatch cover behind her head, shattering its shaft and embedding splinters in the back of her neck. The other missile, which must have been metal-tipped, screamed off the side of the machine.

Before they could reload, she shot between them, keeping low. Another missile thudded against the side. She heard cries and the whine of construct mechanisms as she fled into the forest.

Because she could draw power from several fields at once, her construct was faster than theirs. Had she been out on the open plain, she would have left them far behind. However, she was no match for their operators in manoeuvring her large machine through the trees.

With every twist, every turn, they were gaining. The leading constructs were only a couple of hundred paces behind, within firing distance. Club-spears whirred overhead; one thumped into the back of the machine. They would be lucky to hit her at that distance, but once they came closer they could pick her off, or lob a catapult ball into the compartment, smashing everything to bits and pulverising her.

Ahead was a large clearing studded with spreading trees. Swerving around a clump of bushes, Tiaan shot across golden grass towards the dubious shelter of the forest on the other side. When she was only halfway across the clearing, another line of constructs appeared. At their head, slightly out in front, was a larger one she recognised. Vithis stood tall, smoking with rage. She could see his expression from three hundred paces away. There was nowhere to go. They were behind her and to either side. If she turned, they could hit her with dozens of weapons at once.

It's between me and you, Vithis. I've got nothing to lose. Let's see if you have. She turned the construct so it was heading directly for him, pressed the helm tightly onto her head and drew power from five fields at once.

The machine leapt. The golden grass fled by. Missiles flashed overhead; others struck the sides. She pulled her head below the level of the sides, gritted her teeth and hung on. Time seemed to slow to nothing. The distance between the two constructs shrank. Vithis's arm moved, as if in slow motion. He seemed to be shouting at the other constructs, though she could hear only the roaring of the wind in her ears. There was nothing in the world but the two of them, and neither was going to give way. She wondered what the impact would look like from outside. At least it would be quick. His teeth were bared, the look in his eyes maniacal. He was not going to give way. Minis must be dead. Dead! She gave the construct more power. The distance closed swiftly. She braced herself for the impact that was going to reduce her to a splatter on the wall.

At the last conceivable instant, the other construct translocated sideways. Had she not accelerated, Tiaan would have missed it completely and been away, but the flared side of her machine struck Vithis's a glancing blow, thrusting it side-on into a tree so that Vithis was tossed out. Had she killed him too? Her own construct careered the other way, out of control.

She fought the levers, narrowly avoiding the trunk of a giant tree, darted between two others almost as big, and went flying into another clearing as large as the first.

Straightening up, she dared to look over her shoulder. There was no one behind her. Taking her bearings from the angle of the sun, she headed west as fast as the trees would allow her. Surely it could not be far to the sea now. She prayed that it was beyond the next patch of forest, for she could not do that again. She was limp with relief, though her heart was going like a threshing machine. She managed to make it into the forest before any of the constructs emerged from the other side, but Tiaan took no comfort from that. They knew which direction she'd gone, and would be heading to high points, to flash signals to other squads. Within the hour they could have spotters on every peak. Tiaan slowed, trying to slide smoothly between the trees. Her arm had developed a twitch and she almost went head-on into one. She was coming down from the rush too soon. The chase was nowhere near over.

The Sea of Thurkad could not be more than a league away — ten or fifteen minutes' travel at this speed. But a lot could happen in ten minutes. She kept on, trying to master herself. She was still trying to control her twitching arm when the construct shot out of forest into scrub somewhat higher than her head. The bushes had small leaves tipped with sharp points or hard grey needles. She roared along a bare strip of sand that ran up the side of an elongated ridge. As she rose over the top, Tiaan saw a series of parallel ridges, forming waving lines from south to north — sand dunes — and caught a whiff of the salt sea.

She could not see it from the top of the dune. The scrub cut off her view in every direction, and her passage too, unless she forced a way though it, which must make such a racket that the Aachim would hear her from half a league distant. Tiaan went back to the edge of the forest, turned north, then changed her mind and headed south.

The forest thinned in this direction. She climbed another long, shallow dune and from the top saw across the band of scrub land to the sea, and Meldorin beyond that. There were no constructs in sight. Tiaan allowed herself to hope. Temporary refuge was only five minutes away, if she could find a clear passage there.

And then she saw one — a series of scalloped blow-outs along the dunes, where the wind had torn away the scrub to reveal bare yellow sand which ran almost all the way to the water. A barrier of scrub blocked the last few hundred paces. She would have to crash through, trusting to speed and surprise to reach the coast before the Aachim could cut her off, and pray it did no fatal damage to the machine.

Taking a deep breath, she checked in all directions. Nothing. Tiaan moved on, steadily but slowly, so as to keep the whine of the construct as low as possible. She took advantage of every scrap of concealment, always travelling below the ridge of the dune and, where possible, on the shadowed side.

Before the scrub barrier she stopped, rinsed her dry mouth with what remained in her flask, wiped sweaty palms down her legs and cut off the flow of power. Silence fell, broken only by the creaking of metal as it came to rest, a gentle sighing of the breeze in the scrub and, more distantly, one bird chirruping to another. This was it. She gauged the density of the scrub The trunks were thinner than her wrist, but wiry. They could still do damage. Tiaan accelerated to a moderate pace, about the speed of a trotting horse. Too slow and resistance would bring her to a dead stop, too fast and she would not be able to avoid a large obstacle, like a trunk big enough to smash in the front of the construct.

The construct hit the wall of scrub, tearing through the bushes and sending a rain of branches and leaves into her face. She flipped the hatch down and continued. The racket was unbelievable; like being under a metal dome in a hail-storm. She could see nothing out the front but a hurricane of leaves and swirling bark. The construct struck something hard, evidently the trunk of a small tree. She heard the snap, then it went sliding by. Surely there could not be far to go now.

The machine burst through and there was nothing in front of her but bare sand, a dune that rose steadily, obscuring her view of the sea. Tiaan popped the hatch, wiped leaves out of the binnacle and dried her sweaty hands. So close. She looked around carefully. Still nothing. She eased the construct ahead, still at trotting pace, in case there was a cliff beyond the crest. Topping the dune, she saw a long gentle slope running down to a rocky shore. The wind blew strongly here and the sea was flecked with whitecaps. To her right the shore ran straight for half a league, just sand and dark patches of jumbled rock. To her left a black headland loomed, too steep and rocky for the construct to climb. She saw no sign of the enemy. It scarcely seemed possible, but Tiaan did not question her good fortune.

She kept going at a steady pace towards the shore. Scanning the rock masses for the safest passage to the water, she saw nothing odd about the curved black rocks to her left, nor those on her right. She saw nothing amiss until a net rose up from the sand and the construct drove straight into it.

It gave before her then began to pull taut. The webs of another net whipped against the back and over the top, enclosing the construct. Tiaan panicked, but instinct moved the controls. The construct lurched forwards but the ropes snapped tight, slowing her machine until it was barely moving. Now it was not moving at all. Now they began to pull it backwards.

Tiaan shot a glance over her shoulder. The huge nets were attached to three constructs on her left, two on her right. She could draw more power than they could, but not five times as much. Poured directly into this machine, it would either destroy it, or her. She took as much as she dared. Her backwards progress halted. She inched forward a few spans, stalled, and was dragged back. Now the net began to tighten as they reeled it in from the ends. As soon as she was immobilised, they would swarm all over her.

What if she turned and went for the join of the net? Unfortunately, its two leaves overlapped above her. Whichever way she went, it would hold her. And it was too strong to break; thus far she had not torn a single strand.

There was one last hope, though she had only seconds to do it. With the helm, and the skills the Aachim had taught her, she could draw power more precisely than ever before. If she could locate the spot from which the other machines were drawing power, she might be able to snatch that power from under their noses. It would only stop them for a few seconds, but it might just be enough. The problem was, how to tell which machine was drawing power from which part of the field.

Maybe it didn't matter. She could distinguish these five from the many distant constructs. Tiaan identified all the sources and locked onto the first, the second, then each of the others She did not draw power yet, but allowed the Aachim to pull her backwards. Let them think she was weakening. This must be hurting them, too.

Tiaan sensed an irregularity in one of the power draws. The field there was fluttering. She pounced, taking all the power she could. The tension on the right-hand side of the rope eased and her construct jerked forward. Sensing another flutter, she drew power from there as well. Another jerk, and there came a rending noise behind her and the net gave. It was now tangled around one of the three constructs. Back to her right it was still fixed, though one construct had lost power and was being dragged sideways. The other could not hold her by itself. Tiaan was now approaching the water. A long way to her right, hordes of machines were racing along the water's edge, flinging clouds of sand and mist into the air. She took power jerkily, trying to break free of the other two constructs. One rolled onto its side, jammed against a rock ledge and the ropes broke. The other was still attached and, no matter how she tried, Tiaan could not get rid of it. If she didn't, they would have her. She could now see hundreds of constructs. They were coming from her left as well, through the scrub near the black headland.

Her only chance was straight ahead. Tiaan gave it everything she had. Her construct leapt across the sand and onto the water, dragging the other machine. It struck a boulder in the surf, was hurled high and came crashing down, nose first, to plunge beneath the water. The sea hissed like a kettle, boiled over and, as the cold water came in contact with the hot innards of the construct, it exploded in all directions. Pieces of flaming construct hurtled skywards and, to her horror, several bodies. The net came away. Her construct soared like a skipping stone, came down hard and bounced, spinning sideways. Tiaan hung on grimly as the whirling force tried to throw her out. The machine hit the water on its base and skipped again.

Constructs were converging on her from all directions. Hundreds more — how had she not seen them? — had formed into a curving barrier further across the sea. There was just one small gap, to the south. She darted through and raced south down the Sea of Thurkad.

She was not going to make it across, for the seaward constructs were tracking her all the way. She could not get through them to the dubious security of Meldorin. Even if she did, its shore here was edged with impassable cliffs.

That first impact with the water must have damaged something, for Tiaan's construct now had no more speed than her pursuers. She curved back towards the Lauralin shore. Ahead, the Karama Malama, hung with banners of mist, was an endless expanse of slate grey. Just a narrow, scrubby peninsula now separated her from it.

She rounded the tip, looking east and west. More constructs were coming along the south-facing shore and down out of the scrub. There were thousands of them. She could only go one way. She turned due south, out into the centre of the Sea of Mists. Let them follow her there, if they dared.

The Aachim did follow, a great host of them, for an hour and more. At the end of that time they began to fall back, one by one, as the separation from the node became too great to sustain their motion. Soon there were only two left, then one Finally the last construct turned back. She was alone with her bleeding conscience on the empty sea.

Tiaan looked for another node, not knowing if there was one. Some seas were barren of them. If she could not find a node, any sudden failure of the fading field would sink her. Tiaan was no longer sure that she cared, but she did find another. It was nearly as distant as the first, with barely enough power in it to move the construct. She took some from each and continued.