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.
Had she killed Gilhaelith? The lyrinx had taken him up the ridge into the forest, but that patch of trees had been swept away by the mudslide. She curved around the clifftops, just in case he'd got away. Yes, there he was. The lyrinx was just below the top of the cliff, still carrying him. Gilhaelith wasn't struggling. Surely he didn't want to go with it?
She turned towards them. The lyrinx caught an updraught and began to flap off, barely keeping Gilhaelith's weight in the air. As it passed below the point, heading for distant Alcifer, one of the slaves let out a furious cry of betrayal and hurled a rock, cracking it on the back of the skull. Its wing-beats faltered and it dropped sharply. Now, Tiaan thought.
She went round, passing close to the labouring beast to prevent it from getting away until she could think how to wrest Gilhaelith from it safely. Tiaan's brain fizzed from the power it was using.
It bared its teeth and one clawed hand struck out at the thapter. It was just a reflex, for she was too far away and the metal was proof against its claws. Its wings rippled. Gilhaelith shouted something but Tiaan could not make it out. Did he want her to attack, or keep well away? As she circled, the thapters wake buffeted the creature. Again it dropped; its wings missed a beat; its mouth hung open. She crept towards it, driving it to the cliff and the tall trees that reached two-thirds of the way to the top.
The lyrinx shuddered and its chameleon skin flared red, then white, then purple. It tried to duck in under the upper canopy of a tree but Tiaan smashed through the small branches after it. Its eyes were staring, its mouth opening and closing.
One wing struck a branch. The lyrinx fell, saved itself with a great flapping of leathery wings and crashed into the lower branches. Everything disappeared in a whirling cloud of leaves. When that cleared, the lyrinx came out on the underside of the canopy but it was no longer holding Gilhaelith.
Tiaan panicked, whirling the thapter this way and that, thinking he'd fallen. She was about to dart down the cliff when she heard a thin cry and spotted him clinging to the fork of a denuded branch.
Tiaan brought the thapter around and underneath, feeling quite desperately weary. Her hand-shook on the controller; her spine throbbed mercilessly. Spans below, the lyrinx was struggling up through the foliage towards him.
She made the minute adjustments necessary to bring the hatch up beneath Gilhaelith, but he shook his head and began to crawl along the branch away from her. His trouser leg had been shredded, one boot was missing and he had blood down his side. And still he did not want to be rescued. What was the matter with him?
He raised his hands, out and up in the classic mancer's pose. He was drawing power against her! Without thinking, Tiaan rammed the branch from beneath. He lost his grip and fell through the hatch, landing so hard that it winded him. As the lyrinx beat its way towards her, Tiaan rotated the craft in the air and shot upwards.
Gilhaelith lay collapsed on the floor. The surviving lyrinx were converging on the untouched end of the ridge, where the remaining slaves huddled. Malien had survived, surrounded by a small protective bubble, though she was on her knees.
Tiaan raced the lyrinx there. As she settled the machine next to Malien, the slaves surged forward then stopped, staring at the thapter. They could never have seen anvthing like it. Tiaan's head boiled over. The lyrinx that had abducted Gilhaelith was now circling some distance away, signalling furiously down.