by Perry Aylen
It was another two day’s sailing to Spinnyridge, the bleakest pair of islands in Hexult, large expanses of bare jagged rock protruding from the ice. The trees that had once given the islands their name had long ago been cut down to provide mine props, and the only green growth visible was some small sporadic patches of grass, and a few scrubby bushes clinging to the lea of the rocks. On the surface, the islands were featureless and barren. It was beneath the ground that Spinnyridge lived and breathed. Gas escaping through the rocks was fed into vast furnaces that roared and belched flames like a prehistoric monster trapped beneath the earth, and half naked men sweated in vast chambers hewn with their own muscle, digging iron and precious copper from the solid rock. Spinnyridge, with its rich deposits and spectacular gas forges, turned out ten times more metal than all the other islands combined.
‘That's not a good sign,’ said Aulf, pointing to a pall of smoke hanging like a dark shadow above the jagged lines of land ahead. As they sailed in between the two islands, the source of the smoke became apparent. In the harbour, several boats were burning.
‘Heave to and show yourselves!’ shouted a disembodied voice. Aulf loosed the sails and they flapped slackly in the wind. Out of the smoke, figures materialised and surrounded the boat, skated soldiers, training bows on them from every direction.
Aulf, Ingar and Elya stood very still with their hands held high. These men were soldiers and not raiders, but this gave Aulf little comfort as he had no way of knowing if they were Thorland forces, or from Orking Do, and with so many arrows pointing at him, he felt it was not the appropriate time to enquire. The first man aboard wielded a fearsome looking scimitar, while two more cautiously entered the cabin, reappearing moments later to report it was clear. Aulf was uncomfortably conscious that the eyes of all three men, having passed over Ingar and himself, were now scrutinising Elya intently.
A fourth man, the commander, came aboard. ‘Who are you, and what’s your business?’ he barked at Aulf.
‘I’m Aulf, the mailman. I have letters for Spinnyridge. See for yourself, there's a mail sack below. And here’s a letter from Mayor Potts on Orking Do, verifying that.’
The commander nodded to one of the men who had just come out of the cabin and he went back in again, returning with the bag of mail in his hand.
The commander broke the seal on the mayor’s letter, and glanced down at it, his face expressionless. Then he unfastened the mail sack and gave the contents a peremptory glance.
‘And who are they?’ he questioned, with a curt nod in the direction of the two girls.
‘This is Ingar, my crew, and this is a passenger I’m taking to Pelago.’
The commander’s hard stare lingered on Elya for a few moments more, but, with the mayor’s letter still in his hand, he seemed satisfied Aulf was telling the truth, and instructed him to proceed slowly into the harbour.
They were escorted into port. Aulf had to pick his way carefully between the ruined carcasses of smouldering boats, and worse, the bodies of men, strewn grotesquely around the harbour. The three of them stared in horrified dismay at the scene of carnage that littered the ice between the two neighbouring islands. Aulf knew if those bodies weren't moved soon, it would be a nightmare chipping them off the ice. It crossed his mind whether any islanders were left alive to receive the letters and parcels he brought.
What a desolate place, he thought to himself, surveying the grim landscape rising colourless and empty on each side of the boat. Why would anyone want to live and work here? The land rose up from the coastline, a mass of boulders, short cliffs and tumbling scree, to a distant ridge, higher by far than anywhere else on Hexult, but without the customary green cloak of trees and grass. Along the coast were high stone walls, blank and severe, built to keep invaders out, interspersed at regular intervals with ugly watch towers. Wooden spikes jutted from the ice along the shoreline, haphazard and mean, like a smaller version of the Dragon’s Teeth but without their majesty. They passed through the broken gates in the harbour ice wall and moored up against a stone jetty that was little more than a bare slab of rock.
The harbour marshal was scurrying along the jetty as they pulled in. Finally Aulf saw a face he recognised.
‘You can't stop there!’ the marshal called out crossly. ‘You soldiers have your own moorings!’ His reprimand was cut short as he saw Aulf and recognised the Aurora. ‘Aulf! Sorry, I didn't see you amongst those fighting types.’
Aulf jumped ashore and tied up the Aurora.
‘Are you mad, delivering mail through all this fighting?’ said the harbour marshal, regarding Aulf with a mixture of admiration and disbelief.
Aulf grinned. ‘Probably. But I was hoping to buy some copper, as well.’
The harbour marshal shook his head. ‘You’ll be lucky to buy anything here. I’d leave while you still can.’ He indicated the mayhem around him. ‘They said it would be safe when I took this job!’
‘When did this happen?’
‘Yesterday. And, if it hadn't been changeover day, with new troops arriving, they would have got in that gate and overrun the place and I'd either be dead or having to work for those Thorland savages! I'm leaving while I've still got the chance.’
‘What about the miners? Are they still here?’
The harbour marshal nodded. ‘Oh yes, they’re still here. Refusing to work, though.’
Surveying the devastation, Aulf understood their reluctance.
‘They say they’ve had enough of outsiders fighting over their islands and they’re not going to mine now for anyone other than themselves,’ explained the marshal, as though none of it made sense to him any more. ‘Though why anyone would want to lay claim to this Vajra cursed place is beyond me!’
‘I need to talk to them,’ Aulf told him. ‘There are letters here for some of the miners. If you can help me sort them, I’ll deliver them myself.’
The harbour marshal seemed only too pleased to have one less chore to worry about. Aulf opened the mail bag and they sorted through the contents together.
‘Friedrich Cooper,’ said the marshal, examining the name on the front of a letter. ‘He’s one of the miners. Their leader, in fact. He’s the man you’ll need to talk to.’
Aulf looked dubiously at the smoking remains of at least five boats in the harbour. ‘Is it safe to leave my skiff here?’
‘It’ll be safe enough here under my eye. Unless of course, we’re attacked again! If that happens, I’m afraid I can’t guarantee anything.’
Back on the Aurora, they divided the money and the wizard strikers between them, placing them into their rucksacks. Aulf took the mail sack.
Soldiers met them again at the harbour exit. Aulf checked in his mail bag and found he had deliveries for two of them, and they waved him past. Aulf was sure he heard one of them mutter something about the prophecy. He glanced at Elya and saw her cheeks flush as she heard it too.
They made their way up a cart track that twisted its way through the scrawny bush, between large boulders.
‘What’s that horrible smell?’ Ingar, wrinkled her nose. ‘Like bad eggs!’
Elya pointed down the slope at the side of them. In a stony dip, a series of dark pools with thick yellow crusts bubbled malevolently.
‘Yuk!’ said Ingar, a look of disgust creasing her freckled face. ‘I can’t imagine why anyone’s fighting over this place. It stinks!’
None of them knew how far the village was from the shore, and each time they rounded a bend, they expected to see signs of habitation, but there were none. Eventually, the track started to drop and they glimpsed a huddle of squat stone buildings dug into the site of some old mine workings.
Their approach had not gone unobserved. As they drew near the village, they found their way blocked by a formidable group of a dozen men, all armed with hammers, picks, shovels, and other tools of their miners’ trade, hefty looking implements, gripped in meaty fists that were eminently capable of wielding the makeshift weapons. Aulf squared his shou
lders and marched on, with Ingar and Elya behind, one at each shoulder. He hoped the presence of two women at his back would reassure the men he had no hostile intentions.
The miners appeared to favour leather over fur, although some of them had fur at their collars and around their hats. None of them were shorter than Aulf and all were broad-shouldered and thickly muscled, their faces tough and stony like the hillsides they mined. Aulf stopped and raised his arms, palms towards them, to show he was unarmed.
‘My name’s Aulf. I’m the mailman. I’ve brought some letters from Orking Do.’
A man stepped forward from the group, leaner and younger than the others. He gestured at the sack Aulf carried across his back. ‘Show me.’
Aulf dropped the mail bag on the ground and the man crouched down and peered inside. He fished out the small pile of letters, stood up again, and flicked through them, extracting two and passing the others to one of his comrades. He indicated the letters he was still holding.
‘I’m Friedrich Cooper. These are for me.’ He looked behind him. His men were peering over each other’s shoulders, eager to discover whether any of the letters were for them. Friedrich turned back again and regarded Aulf and his companions, with less hostility this time. His face was long, with sharp bones jutting through the skin, and he had dark eyes that reminded Aulf of a sad dog.
‘We appreciate the effort you’ve made to bring these,’ he acknowledged, gruffly. ‘We haven’t had any mail in a while.’ He looked at the letters in his hand while he considered the official Orking Do seal on the nearest one.
When he spoke again, his voice had softened, and he sounded almost pleasant. ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider waiting, only I may need to send back a fast reply?’
Aulf seized his chance. ‘We can wait. Actually, we were hoping to buy some copper while we’re here.’
Friedrich’s face hardened again. ‘We’re not dealing in copper, or anything else for that matter, until the other islands withdraw all their claims on Spinnyridge and recognise our independence.’
‘Independence!’ Aulf was taken aback. ‘I didn’t realise that’s what all the fighting was about.’
‘It’s not,’ Friedrich returned tersely. ‘It’s Orking Do and Thorland who have been fighting over us for years. Neither of them has any right over these islands. We’re the ones who live and work here and risk our lives in the mines and the furnaces. Why shouldn’t we be able to reap the full rewards for our sacrifices? Why should Orking Do or Thorland exploit us? We’re prepared to fight if we have to, to defend our mines.’
Ingar cleared her throat. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re right.’
Friedrich raised his eyebrows. ‘Who are you?’
‘Ingar,’ she told him. ‘I help deliver the mail.’
Friedrich nodded at Elya, ‘And who’s she?’
‘A friend,’ replied Ingar. ‘Her name’s Elya.’
‘Elya?’ Friedrich repeated the name and frowned as if it sounded vaguely familiar. He jerked his head at the three of them. ‘Come to my house and wait while I read these letters.’
Friedrich’s house consisted of a single room, sparsely furnished with a wooden cot, a table, a bench, and a large cupboard, but little in the way of adornment other than the coverings on the bed. He broke open the letter from Orking Do, his face darkening as he read. ‘Still refusing to recognise our rights!’ He smacked the parchment with his hand as though he wished it might have been Mayor Potts’ head. ‘Don’t they understand, the fighting won’t stop until they all relinquish their claims and leave us to work in peace?’
‘Listen,’ said Aulf, and Friedrich lowered the letter and looked at him. ‘The copper we wanted, it’s to help build wizard towers, light towers. If we build them on every island across Hexult, all the islands can talk to each other and perhaps stop this endless fighting.’
‘Wizard towers? Are you having me on?’
Aulf shook his head. ‘For real,’ he promised. ‘I’ve met the two wizards who are building them. They came to Hexult to help mend the rifts between the islands. There’s a tower already going up on Orking Do and soon there’ll be more on other islands. A whole chain of signal towers!’
Friedrich looked uncertain whether to believe him or not. ‘We’d heard rumours about wizards, but then there are always rumours.’
‘It’s true!’ Aulf fished in his bag for a flint and steel. Friedrich watched, puzzled as he drew out the two unremarkable objects and held them up for Friedrich’s inspection before striking them together.
Friedrich stared open-mouthed. Without saying a word, he held out his hand and Aulf passed him the striker.
‘Wizard strikers,’ said Aulf.
Friedrich examined the flint and steel in disbelief. ‘I know iron,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘but I’ve never seen it do that!’ Following Aulf’s example he struck the steel with the flint, effortlessly producing a fine display of sparks.
‘How are these made?’
Aulf smiled. ‘The wizards made them. Wizards do magic.’ He gave Friedrich a few moments to marvel at the wizard strikers, then went on, choosing his words with care. ‘We have plenty more wizard strikers with us. We’re willing to trade, and we don’t represent any island in particular. We’re here on behalf of two wizards who want to make Hexult a better place to live. Will you help them?’
Chapter 38
Jacob was feeling pleased with himself. Standing on the hilltop on Orking Do, he surveyed the scene around him, and felt a pleasant swell of pride wash over him. In six days, they had made good progress. The foundations were in place and the stonework was creeping upwards. They were almost at the height of the first storey, and now it was easy to imagine how impressive the light tower was going to look once it was finished. It was the end of the day. The builders had all gone home, and the little crowds of spectators that gathered regularly to speculate about the young wizard and his mysterious tower, had all returned to their suppers. He was an object of awe and interest to the islanders, admired where Elya had been feared, worshipped where she had been rejected. Although he pretended to shrug off his new found popularity, secretly he had to admit that he rather enjoyed his wizard status and the fame that came with it.
The two boxes of wizard strikers had been a huge hit on Orking Do. Everyone was talking about them, and everyone wanted one. Jacob had taken them to a trader on his first day on the island, and they had sold out by sunset. Must get Aulf to go by Smithy Island so we can fetch some more, he thought to himself. He turned away from the beginnings of his tower, and looked in the other direction. The town was below him, half obscured by the rise in the hill, and he could see the road to the harbour emerging from beneath the jumble of roofs, snaking down to the docks. Clearly visible behind that was the harbour wall, and beyond that, the endless flatness of the ice, merging in the far off distance with the indistinct horizon.
Jacob was impatient now for Elya, Aulf and Ingar to return. He had been anticipating that return all day. There was so much to tell and show them. The wizard strikers, the progress on the tower, the house Mayor Potts had rented for him. And potential signallers from Quayven and Pelago had arrived two days before to begin training. Elya would be excited to hear that. Nadiya was already teaching them the code in the little storeroom at the back of her house. And then, of course, there was the matter of the strange conversation he’d had with Mayor Potts the day he arrived on Orking Do. He would be glad to talk that over with the others.
‘Did your friends find you after you left for Barley?’ Mayor Potts had asked him brightly, after they exchanged greetings.
Jacob had looked surprised. ‘What friends?’
‘Soon after you left, a boat arrived, looking for you. The sheriff spoke to the crew. An urgent message, they said. They went after you first thing the next morning, hoping to catch you on Barley.’
‘Where did they come from?’
‘From Pelago, so they said. Mariott’s deputy thought he might have m
et two of them before, when he was in Quayven. They didn’t catch up with you then?’
Jacob frowned as he recollected the conversation. It played uneasily on his mind, leaving him anxious for his sister and his friends. He would be relieved to see them again.
The sun was low in the sky. As though thinking about them had made them appear, a moving speck broke the emptiness of the white expanse in front of him, heading towards the harbour gates. It was still unidentifiable at that distance, but approaching so fast Jacob knew it had to be the Aurora. He set off down the hill at a run to meet it.
By the time he reached the docks, the Aurora was moored to a pontoon. Ingar was on deck, fastening a sail. He called out a greeting, and Ingar turned and saw him, but she did not smile or return his salute. He saw her cross the deck to call into the cabin, and Aulf came out. Something about their posture, their lack of greeting, told Jacob, even from a distance, that something was wrong. As he drew closer, he realised they both looked pale and tense. He even wondered if Ingar had been crying.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, as he reached the boat and climbed on board. With a creeping sense of misgiving, he looked over the deck. ‘Where’s Elya?’
Aulf and Ingar looked at each other. Ingar dropped her eyes and stared resolutely at the deck.
Aulf shook his head. ‘She’s gone.’
‘Gone?’ repeated Jacob in consternation. ‘What do you mean, gone?’
“She disappeared from Spinnyridge.”