‘What offer?’ said Vithis, moving out from behind. ‘You are late in making one.’
‘As are you in putting your true intentions. We were prepared to offer you the land of Carendor, on the eastern side of the Dry Sea.’
‘You dare insult us with a desert?’ cried Vithis in a rage. ‘By –’
‘Carendor is an arid land, it is true,’ said Flydd, ‘yet the fertile valley of the great River Truno runs all the way through it, while the springs and seeps on the slope of the Dry Sea are enough to water a garden a hundred leagues long. Before the war Carendor supported a million people. Its numbers are less now, but even to give that land to you, more than your number must be displaced.’
‘Carendor is too hot, dry and barren. We will take nothing less than all that lies south of the fortieth parallel. One half of your lands. That is our price. And the flying construct, of course.’
‘Precisely what do you offer in return?’ said Flydd.
‘Our aid in your coming battle at Snizort. Plus Treacherous Tiaan, and Cryl-Nish Hlar the Rogue.’
‘And that is all? I am hard pressed to see any difference between you and the lyrinx, save that they are honest foes.’
The Aachim stiffened as if they had been given a mortal insult. ‘You challenge our honesty?’ cried Vithis. ‘Damn you. The offer is withdrawn. You will regret this insult, scrutator.’
For a moment Flydd did not know what to say, but he was not going to back down. ‘You did not deal honestly with Tiaan,’ he said mildly. ‘Why should you treat us any differently?’
‘You will regret impugning our good name, scrutator.’
‘I’ll make sure you regret it more. You are a little force in an unknown land and your supplies are running low. Every man is your enemy; every woman; every child. Even if we took five casualties for every one of yours, you would suffer the greater injury.’
‘You reveal yourself,’ said Vithis furiously, and now Tirior and Luxor were solidly behind him. ‘Your real plan is to eradicate the Aachim and no threat could spur us to greater efforts. We will fight bitterly for our survival, scrutator!’
‘I merely point out what is obvious. May I have Artificer Cryl-Nish Hlar?’
‘You may not. Begone, Scrutator Flydd, or you will see what our little force can do.’
FIFTY-EIGHT
Irisis was an early riser, normally up long before the scrutator. On going out Fyn-Mah’s front door at sunrise a few days later, she was surprised to see Flydd in his chair, staring at a message sheet.
‘You look horrible,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Should have stayed in bed.’
‘I haven’t been to bed yet.’ He did not look up.
‘Something else the matter?’
‘Ha!’ he said savagely.
‘What is it?’ He was like a barnacle in the mornings.
‘Eiryn Muss can’t find any way into Snizort. Therefore, I can’t carry out my orders – to destroy this strange node-drainer.’
‘What about a massed attack?’
‘As soon as we begin, they would simply drain the field, stopping the clankers dead. I don’t dare.’
‘Well, Muss is the best spy there is. He may still find a way.’
‘Not in time. Their great project is nearly complete; he knows that much. And the lyrinx are preparing for battle. We must attack now or lose what little advantage we have.’
‘But without clankers …’
‘We’re doomed. So I have only one option left.’
‘Oh no.’
‘I’m afraid so. The node-drainer won’t affect constructs since they don’t rely on the weak field. I must go back to Vithis on my belly, agree to his demands and beg him for assistance. What price will he put on aid now? I can’t bear to think. The scrutators will crucify me after this.’
‘And yet you must pay the price,’ she said, ‘for even a small part of our world is better than none.’
‘I must.’ He had never looked more haggard or careworn. ‘There’s only one consolation and I’m sure you saw it too. The Aachim are like warring tribes, forced to unite though they hate each other. We may be able to make use of that, in time.’
‘If we get the time.’
Unfortunately the Aachim proved united and inflexible. Flydd had grovelled, a hideous sight; the Aachim had accepted his concessions.
Another four days had gone by before the preparations were complete. Now the battle was about to begin. Irisis was with Flydd at a command post on one of the flat-topped hills overlooking the battleground.
She surveyed the scene through the scrutator’s spyglass. Snizort lay on a broad rise with lower, gently undulating land all around, grassland but with patches of scrubby forest, small, mostly boulder-topped hills and isolated clusters of sandstone boulders. The forest near the eastern wall had recently been cleared, the fallen trees forming barriers that clankers would find it difficult to cross. Inside the walls lay the Great Seep, a vast and bottomless mire of liquid tar surrounded by steaming, crystal-crusted vents and a number of pits, some large and deep, from which solidified tar had been mined for thousands of years. Smaller tar bogs and seeps littered the ground inside and outside the walls.
In ancient times, overflowing tar from the seeps had oozed down the low-lying areas, creating a series of black rivers that circled away from Snizort for as much as a league. These had long since dried out, and parts had also been mined, though much remained. Other, smaller seeps and bogs occurred here and there.
The Aachim had planned to attack the western and southern sides of Snizort with their constructs, while the human armies and their clankers struck at the eastern and northern walls, bombarding the land inside with flaming missiles in an attempt to set fire to the tar pits and even the Great Seep. It had not worked out that way. The lyrinx had come over the walls to fight the battle outside, preventing the clankers from getting close enough to fire over the walls.
‘This is better than I’d hoped,’ said General Tham on the first morning of the battle. ‘They’re fighting us on our ground in broad daylight and massed formations. We’ll slaughter them.’
‘Don’t be a fool,’ growled Flydd. ‘They’re working to a plan and so far it’s going well.’
The struggle began slowly, with catapult barrages from either side, causing little damage, and skirmishes where small groups of soldiers attacked patrols of lyrinx. The lyrinx generally got the best of these encounters. In the afternoon the allies intensified their attacks, using flying wedges of clankers and constructs, though to Irisis the Aachim seemed to be holding back.
‘There’s a fire in the eastern battlefield,’ she called. Irisis was one of many scribes writing orders for the messengers running in and out. ‘And spreading fast.’
The scrutator ran his spyglass across the scene. Flames and black smoke were belching up along a line the best part of a league long. Other lines erupted as he watched.
‘They’ve fired the ancient tar runs. Must have used spirits of tar to make it go up so quickly. I knew it could not be so easy.’
‘The smoke will disadvantage them too.’
‘Not so much as us, since it’s blowing our way. And it buys them time. We can’t cross the fires, even in clankers. They’re like extra walls that will burn for days and then leave the ground impassable. They’re breaking up our battle formations.’
‘Can we put the fires out and break through?’
He shook his head. ‘Even if we could spare the water, it won’t put out a tar fire. The only way is to smother it with earth and pack it down hard. If you can find a way to do that in the middle of a battle …’
‘Surely the constructs could cross the fires?’
‘They probably could, but do you imagine Vithis will risk his people if we can’t join them?’