Free Alchymist by Ian Irvine

become an
artisan. I have a talent of thinking in pictures. I —’
    Down
below, someone groaned and began to thrash their legs. Merryl swung himself
down the ladder. 'They're not looking good,' he called.
    She
poked her head down until she could see. Three of the seven slaves were asleep,
or unconscious. The others sprawled limply on the floor, eyes closed, lungs
heaving. Tirior and Minis were in better shape, though they looked worse than
she felt. Nish lay curled up on a pull-out bunk, halfway up the wall. He had
worked his blindfold off but his eyes were shut.
    'The
air's really bad down there,' Merryl said as he returned to her side. 'They
won't last much longer.'
    She
pulled the knob up until the machine began to shudder. The rubber strip
elongated. Everything began to vibrate, including her teeth. The construct
squealed as if its metal carapace were being wrenched one way and then the
other.
    'I
don't like the sound of that,' she said.
    'Doesn't
matter much, either way.'
    'No.'
    A
while later she said, 'How fast now?' forgetting that she'd asked that before.
    'I
couldn't say, Tiaan.'
    It
was too much of an effort to talk. She leaned back against the seat, panting.
Her head drooped.
    The
hatch above their heads squealed and a ribbon of tar jetted in from one side,
festooning her arm and shoulder with coiling black bands. She tried to brush it
off but the hot stuff stuck to her fingers and burned. Tiaan yelped and with
her free hand pulled the flight knob down until the shuddering stopped.
    Merryl
tightened the hatch and sat on the floor, resting his head back against the
wall. Tiaan set the controls and scraped the tar off. She felt so very tired;
her head nodded. She hauled herself up, hanging onto the binnacle. If she sat
down, she would go to sleep, which would swiftly be followed by
unconsciousness, and death for everyone.
    Something
struck the construct hard, sending a shiver through the bowl of water. The
hatch scraped as if the machine were sliding along the underside of something
large and hard.
    Tiaan
could not think clearly. She pushed the controller forwards, the squeal became
a shriek of tormented metal then, to her horror, the hatch was prised up a
finger's width and thick tar began to ribbon in.
    The
noise stopped. They were free of the obstruction. Tiaan tilted the front of the
construct up. The bowl of water slid off the binnacle, pouring its contents
down the ladder. Pulling the flight knob up as far as it would go, she prayed.
    The
machine shuddered, the tar boiled beneath it and with a roar the construct
hurled itself vertically. A surge of hot tar coated the wall at her back. The
sound was indescribable. Tiaan felt sure the machine was going to tear itself
apart.
    Then
the shuddering ceased, so abruptly that she did not understand what had
happened. Had they stopped? No, for the mechanism down below was still
screaming. She'd done it. The construct was free, in the open air, and going up
like a skyrocket.
    Tiaan
threw open the hatch and, gasping lungfuls of sweet, pure air, let the machine
fly where it would. There were groans and cries as the passengers were flung
from one side to the other, but they were alive, at least. She did not look
down. Tiaan had strength only to cling to the side, her eyes watering in the
gale that swirled in through the jagged hatchway.
    It
became bitterly cold and hard to breathe; she'd gone too high. Tiaan eased the
flight knob down, wondering where to go, but the whine broke for a second. As
she levelled out it broke again and smoke belched up on all sides. She put the
front down, heading towards the ground. Had something vital been damaged in all
that shaking and shuddering? If the mechanism failed at this height they would
be smashed to jelly.
    There
were no more problems until, nearing the ground, she levelled out and the whine
faded to nothing. An acrid smell drifted from behind the binnacle and a long
black trail smoked in the air behind them. Perhaps she'd drawn