'Gilhaelith!' Tiaan screamed. 'This way!'
His head whipped around. 'Tiaan?'
He took one step towards her, puzzled but not looking pleased. She was wondering why when a flying lyrinx swooped out of the mist, clamped its claws into his ribs and lifted him bodily.
Gilhaelith thrashed and it almost fell out of the air. Darting its open jaws at him, it gripped him around the top of the head until its teeth broke the skin. Tiaan was so close she could see the spots of blood. He went still and it pulled him in under the trees, out of sight, labouring under his weight.
Malien's attacker now rushed Tiaan, its spread wings darkening the sky. Its armour was as black as coal, its mighty crest a luminous gold. Many other lyrinx followed. They'd been after her, and the thapter, all along. The intelligence that Gilhaelith was at Alcifer must have been planted to lure her here, but it had been Malien who had taken the bait.
Tiaan slammed the hatch, twisting the lock as the first creature thudded onto the roof. Its claws tore at the metal but could find no grip, the seams were too perfect. Another lyrinx leapt onto the thapter, then half a dozen more, until the roof creaked under their weight. Between them she saw the black mancer-lyrinx, carrying a great bar with which to prise the hatch open. They could not use their Art, for the thapter was proof against it, but nothing could protect her from sheer physical force.
A glittering, luminous bubble burst against the black lyrinx's back but he shrugged it off. He did not turn to attack Malien, whose magic it was, nor even to defend himself. It was an expression of contempt: you can't harm me. Icy sweat oozed down Tiaan's back. The trap was closing fast. Forgre was dead, probably Talis as well. Gilhaelith had been removed. Now Malien fought alone against dozens of opponents, and surely could not last.
Running away was not a temptation – Tiaan wasn't going down that road again. The thumping against the shell of the thapter was deafening, and now it went dark inside as they covered the screen. She pulled up on the yoke, thinking to turn upside down and shake them off. The thapter vibrated so hard that her bones rattled, but did not lift; the weight of dozens of lyrinx was too much for it.
Tiaan tried to spin it on the spot but that didn't work either – the lyrinx must have linked arms with those on the ground, who dug in their claws and held it. She could not break their grip.
Cutting off the field, she sat back, panting. There had to be a way. The darkness broke as a small triangle of screen was cleared. A face appeared – the mancer-lyrinx. His anthracite skin glittered as if it had been sprinkled with diamond dust; the golden crest pulsed dark and bright. Power shimmered all around him like heat haze rising from a saltpan.
He thrust his toothy head towards the screen, seeking her out. Tiaan kept away from the light, for he smouldered enough to burn her, and if his gaze locked on hers he might be able to command her to his will.
Tiaan could feel the command building. Come into the light, where I can see you. Come. Come'.
Her hand shook. She wanted to go to him, to look into his eyes. It felt like the right thing to do. He wasn't her enemy. He would make it right for her.
What was she thinking? Tiaan moved back smartly, whacking her head on the back of the compartment. There had to be a way – she was a geomancer after all – and a brilliant one, according to Gilhaelith.
She'd not done any geomancy in ages. Since gaining the thapter, Tiaan had used its speed, its strength, and simply run away from her troubles. The great talents she'd begun to nurture had been neglected.
The golden-crested lyrinx jammed his bar into the join between the hatch and the shell of the thapter, and heaved, Metal screamed. If she was to save Malien, there was no time to lose.
Tiaan popped out the amplimet. Gripping it hard, she scanned the earth below the ridge, though not seeking power. She kept well away from the throbbing Alcifer node-within-a-node, which was far beyond her comprehension. She was looking for a way to use her fledgling geomancy; an attack they would never suspect.
She sensed many things – the aeons-slow creep of rocks under strain, the imperceptible rise of magma pools far below, the crackling of ancient lava fields surrounding the dormant volcano to the north. None were useful to her, nor the tension on a great faultline that curved beneath Alcifer. That held power beyond anyone's capacity to bear.
Metal squealed above her, as if the hatch were coming off. Ah, there was something! Seeping heat from the quiescent volcano had created the fuming, seething terraces above her, with their lines of hot springs and mud pools. She traced the paths of superheated fluid through the rocks nearby, seeking a weakness she could exploit to blast steam at the lyrinx, or create a minor landslide that might cause them to draw back panic. She didn't need much.
The bar ground at the join of the hatch again and again, the shrill squeal tearing at her nerves. The black lyrinx's teeth were bared as it strained. There were so many paths of heat flowing through cracks and fissures; so many places where the superheated ground water was held tight. If she could find a weakness, and assist the rocks to give way there, the water must burst forth.
She found one but it was too far away. Another lay just above the ridge – too close and too powerful to take the risk.
A third pool had a fissure above it, sealed tight by crystallised salt, and it looked just right.
Tiaan explored its aura and field, seeking to know it, as she must. The fissure had been open many times in the past, making a spectacular geyser for weeks or months before the vent become blocked again.
Just a little extra pressure and the crystallised salt would crack like toffee. Tiaan put her fingers in her ears to block out the rasp of metal against metal as she hunted for a way that was within her capacity. She did not have the power to make the earth move. She had to use what was there, and fortunately the system was so delicately balanced that a small change could upset it.
She changed the field to direct a surge of heat into that lower chamber. The superheated water roiled, burst through a flimsy barrier and forced its way up. The lines of force changed colour; the salt plug cracked and was blasted away as the water forced its way up into a terrace filled with mud.
As the pressure was relieved, the water turned instantly to steam, boiling the mud and blasting a brown geyser upwards with a shriek that had the great lyrinx clapping his hands over his ears. He fell backwards, allowing Tiaan to see what she had done.
A circular wave of mud roared out from around the geyser, overtopping the banks that made a dam of the terrace, then tearing channels through them. A deluge of boiling mud began to pour over the slope above them like jam from the lip of a cooking pot.
The lyrinx hurled themselves out of the way, diving off the edges of the ridge and over the cliffs. Only the mancer-lyrinx held to his purpose, slamming his bar into the angle of the hatch yet again. He darted a glance over his shoulder, gave another prise that made metal squeal, then gave up the fight and lifted straight up in the air. The steam burst caught him, whirling him about then over the edge and out of sight.
Tiaan, limp-kneed and dripping perspiration, jerked up on the flight yoke. Nothing happened, for she still held the amplimet in her hand. It took some time to realise what the problem was. She banged it into its cavity, waited a second till it settled and jerked again.
The thapter shot into the air, buffeted by the steam blast as the wave of mud swept diagonally across the ridge, carrying trees, bushes and three unfortunate lyrinx with it, before pouring in a brown curtain over the cliff to her left. She'd overdone it yet again.
She hovered while it passed, looking for survivors. There was no sign of Malien and two-thirds of the ridge was covered in waist-deep sludge. The bodies of the fallen slaves, as well as Forgre, had been swept away. Five slaves cowered near the untouched end of the ridge, their faces scarlet from the steam.