Hexult

by Perry Aylen

  Gritting his teeth, he started to climb. He didn’t dare look up and contemplate the countless rungs vanishing upwards. The ladder felt secure and the ice wall behind looked reassuringly solid. Up he went, hand and foot, hand and foot, congratulating himself for having conquered a senseless fear. Eyes fixed resolutely in front of him, he ascended steadily.

  And then, without even meaning to, he looked down.

  The ladder dropped away beneath him and he felt the tower tilt, tipping him towards the empty void in the middle. He tried to catch his breath and found he could not. Gripping the ladder as though his life depended on it, and pressing his body hard into the solid wood, he squeezed his eyes shut, gasping.

  He could not breathe. Through the pounding of blood in his ears, he heard a voice, but not what was said. A hand touched his leg, but he could not open his eyes or move his jaw to speak. It was as if all his muscles had suddenly frozen into a solid lump.

  Hurrying after Jacob, Aulf had seen him start up the ladder, impressed by the boy’s resolve. Jacob had never openly admitted his fear of heights, but Aulf and Ingar had both suspected, ever since the day they had sailed close to the crevasse. Now Aulf could see how Jacob had frozen, clinging to the frame of the ladder, his arms trembling and his breath coming in hard, painful sobs. His face, always pale, was now so white it reminded Aulf of when he had first seen the boy on the wreck of his boat, half frozen and close to death.

  Climbing up behind Jacob, Aulf reached up to touch the boy’s leg, but there was no response. Aulf looked around him, debating the best course of action. The ladder was too narrow to take two people, side by side. With an anxious frown creasing his face, he looked down. They were about a third of the way up the tower, higher than the Aurora’s mast. Jacob’s breath was coming in loud and erratic gasps. If he passed out now, thought Aulf, he would certainly fall. Cautiously, Aulf climbed another few rungs, reaching his arms around Jacob’s body, until their faces were level. He spoke reassuringly into Jacob’s ear.

  ‘Let’s climb down together, Jacob.’

  Jacob opened his eyes, and for a moment Aulf was encouraged, then he saw the blind terror in Jacob’s stare. In desperation, Aulf looked up and down the tower, but they were alone. There was little point in shouting. The thick ice walls deadened sound, and Ingar, out on the deck of the tower, would not hear, her head muffled against the cold, and the wind roaring in her ears. The building crew were all busy packing their equipment, and drinking beer.

  Carefully climbing down again, over Jacob’s rigid body, Aulf took hold of the boy’s right ankle and tugged his foot forcibly onto the next rung. He did the same with Jacob’s left foot, then, murmuring words of encouragement, he scrambled back up and repeated the process with each of Jacob’s hands, painstakingly prising each finger away from its iron hard grip, and steering his limbs, as stiff as if they had been made of ice, into position on the next rung down.

  It was a slow and gruelling descent. By the time they reached the bottom of the ladder, Aulf’s own arms and legs were trembling from the strain.

  ‘All right, Jacob,’ he said with an exhausted sigh of relief. ‘We’re down now. You can let go.’

  Jacob, still clinging to the ladder, didn’t seem to hear. Aulf tugged gently at his arms. ‘You’re safe, Jacob. You can let go.’

  Jacob opened his eyes and stared unseeingly at the wall in front of him. Gradually, his fingers released their vice like grip. Aulf breathed another sigh of relief. Without any warning, the whole of Jacob’s weight slumped against him, and he caught the boy clumsily as he crumpled towards the floor.

  When Jacob came round, he was lying on Aulf’s bunk in the cabin of the Aurora. Aulf was drinking tea, and Ingar was sitting on the edge of the bunk, chafing his hands and looking impatient.

  ‘He’s awake,’ she called over to Aulf.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Aulf asked him, pouring tea for Jacob and bringing it across.

  Jacob felt his face redden. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You must think I’m an idiot.’

  ‘Never mind that,’ broke in Ingar. ‘What about these messages from Elya?’ Jacob’s eyes lit up. ‘Here, look. Elya’s fine. She’s been on Thorland, all this time. She’s dying to see us all again.’ Ingar frowned at her own scrawled notes as she tried to decipher what she’d written. ‘She impressed Thorland with the wizard strikers, and then she persuaded the chief to let her build a light tower there.’

  Jacob grinned. ‘Good old Elya! Anything else?’

  ‘Well, I told her about the ice tower here, and about the ice fair, and she sent back a reply to say that it sounded brilliant and that she would love to come!’

  ‘How’s she going to get here?’ asked Jacob. ‘Can we go and get her?’

  He saw Ingar hesitate.

  ‘What is it? Is something wrong?’

  ‘No.’ Ingar shook her head but there was an edge of doubt to her voice. ‘At least, I don’t think so.’

  ‘What is it then?’

  ‘Well, I suggested that, but Elya was insistent that we mustn’t come to Thorland, although she didn’t say why. She repeated that she would join us at the ice fair.’

  A little shadow of concern clouded the joy in Jacob’s face. ‘I wonder why she doesn’t want to see us straight away,’ he said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

  ‘It’s only eleven days.’ Aulf spoke brightly, in an effort to cheer him up again. ‘And there’re still lots of preparation to be done for this ice fair. You know Elya. She’s probably already considered that and that’s why she’s insisting you do it this way.’

  Jacob looked unconvinced, but he nodded anyway. ‘Maybe.’

  Ingar held out the crumpled piece of parchment on which she had transcribed Elya’s messages in a scrawl so untidy, it was almost indecipherable. ‘And look,’ she told him, with a grin, ‘see how she ended her message.’

  Jacob peered at the unintelligible jottings, frowning to make sense of them. Ingar tutted and snatched the paper away again.

  ‘“Give my love to Jacob, but don’t tell him how much I miss him or he’ll think I can’t do without him!”’

  Jacob smiled, and opened his mouth to say something, but Ingar cut him short.

  ‘Before you ask, I already sent her your love too, and told her you miss her even more!’

  Chapter 46

  It was an incongruous sight, the sparkling white flatness of the ice ocean broken by the long curve of the Dragon’s Teeth, stretching away into the white distance, and at the head of the line, impossibly tall and breathtakingly beautiful, the elegant lines of the slender ice tower tapering skywards, its translucent walls, like polished glass, bouncing the brilliance of the sun with such dazzling brightness that it was as if a shard of pure sunlight had dropped from the sky and embedded itself into the ice floor. It made Aulf’s eyes water to stare at it, so he dropped his gaze to ice level and took in the scene at its foot.

  A great jumble of boats was gathered there, almost as if a small town had grown up overnight, with no sense of structure or symmetry, just a higgledy-piggledy, swollen mass of shape, colour and movement. Brightly festooned stalls crowded together, and ribbons of people wound in and out between them in a slow moving dance. As the Aurora sailed closer, the sounds of the fair drifted on the wind, with the tantalising smells of frying food and rich spiced cakes. There was music, a cacophony of different musicians and entertainers, and the shouts and cries of the market vendors rising above the general buzz of the crowd. It was the sound of busyness and merriment; the sound, thought Aulf, of a successful fair in full swing.

  When Aulf had dropped off Ingar and Jacob the day before, traders from the four main districts had already arrived to secure their pitches, and stalls were going up all around the tower, but nothing like the scene that met him now. He had gone home to fetch Ma. She stood beside him now on the deck of the Aurora, staring at the scene spread out before her on the ice, her eyes wide with wonder. Still more boats were arriving. T
he makeshift town on the ice was steadily growing all the time, expanding outwards, like spilled ink.

  Jacob had marked out lines to allow access to the ice tower, an avenue to be kept clear for use in the event of emergency. A berth had been reserved at the foot of the tower for the Aurora. But that was yesterday. Today, there was no inlet, no clearway. The ever expanding circle of stalls and boats had spilled over into every available space around the tower. Aulf circumnavigated the mushrooming fair, but could see no way to get close. When he had completed a whole circuit, he realised he had seen no sign of a sheriff’s boat anywhere on the ice. The clearway had been designed to allow them access too. Where were they? He turned his eyes back to the seething mass around the tower and looked closer. There, as he feared, fluttering helplessly amongst the crush, were the pennants of the sheriffs’ boats, hopelessly marooned in a crowded mass of smaller craft.

  A couple of heavy barges sailed in. The first had a flat, open deck, fenced for transporting livestock. There was no sign of a cow or a sheep today, however. The wide flat deck had been transformed into a mobile market. The second barge had three thick masts and two monstrous spiked wheels, one on either side of its bulky hull, like a strange fighting machine from a fantasy age. A stumpy windmill grew out of the prow. As it approached, heads turned as people remarked on its ugliness. Aulf recognised it as the heavy load barge from Spinnyridge. Although barges could transport vast payloads once they were moving, it was notoriously difficult to get them under way. This barge had massive spiked wheels that could be lowered onto the ice. With the windmill turned into the wind, the ingenious gearing rotated the ice wheels and broke the inertia of the craft so it could move.

  Around the massive barges, fluttered a little fleet of small trader boats, mostly family owned businesses, bringing their goods to sell, boats that had been modified to suit the merchants or craftsmen who owned them. Some were small and sleek, some were sturdy and slow, others had derricks or iron frames sprouting out of the decks. Strings of coloured flags fluttered from their masts and rails, and some had brightly painted banners strung along their decks, or boards for advertising their wares. Brightly adorned for this special occasion, they sailed proudly towards the fair, like a strange and colourful flock of misshapen birds.

  Trailing the business boats, like chicks slithering behind a mother hen, were the little day boats. Most families who lived near an island shore possessed these lightweight craft, small enough to be lifted off the ice when they were not in use. It was the quickest way of travelling around the rocky coastlines of Hexult. These day boats had no cabins. They were designed for short hops, not for surviving overnight on the inhospitable terrain of the open ice. This Spinnyridge convoy would have spent the night at Orking Do before sailing on to the fair.

  Aulf would have been content to remain a fascinated observer, but his mother was not so patient. The hustle and bustle of the lively market was making her itch to join the jostling throngs and seek out the bargains.

  ‘Just sail in there and drop me off,’ she urged Aulf.

  Aulf looked doubtful. ‘Will you be all right? How will I find you again?’

  ‘Don’t fuss, Aulf. I can look after myself. Set me down over there.’ She jerked her head in the direction of the tower. ‘Look at that!' she remarked, impressed.

  Suddenly, Aulf became aware of bright flashes from the tower. He hadn’t noticed them before. He stared upwards, wondering. A few more flashes and then they stopped and Aulf could see a figure on the top deck, leaping about madly and waving both arms. Ingar, he thought. It had to be Ingar. Ma had seen the flashes, but, looking around, Aulf realised nobody else appeared to have noticed them. Somehow, Ingar had managed to focus the light directly on the Aurora.

  He wished he’d made time to learn the code, but it gave him an idea, all the same.

  ‘We can use a signal to communicate. Say, three quick flashes. If you need me at all, go straight to the tower and ask Ingar to signal the Aurora a few times with three quick flashes in a row, then I’ll know to come and meet you there.’

  ‘Aren’t you coming to look around the fair?’ asked Ma.

  Aulf looked at the heaving mass of people and shook his head. ‘I looked around yesterday,’ he assured her. ‘That was enough for me. I’ve got some ropes to splice, and there’s a snag in the jib I want to repair.’

  Ma shook her head in despair. ‘Sometimes I worry that you’re married to this boat!’

  He dropped her off as close to the tower as he was able, and she hurried away, excited as a small child at the prospect of the fair. Aulf waved her off and watched her small, determined figure dive into the seething throng before turning the Aurora around and heading back to the relative peace of the perimeter.

  A voice he recognised hailed him. He looked around and saw a boat moored nearby. It was a bigger vessel than the Aurora, sturdily built. On the deck, a familiar figure was waving and grinning energetically.

  ‘Grim!’ Aulf’s face lit up as he spotted the big blacksmith. He brought the Aurora up close.

  ‘Is this yours? You’ve finished it then?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Grim waved a proud hand around him at the deck.

  A bit like Grim, thought Aulf as he looked the boat over with an expert eye. Not sleek or beautiful, but comfortable and reassuringly solid. There were no outriggers. This was not a craft designed for speed. The hull was soundly constructed and there was a roomy deck and cabin. ‘What’s that for?’ he asked, indicating a small derrick securely bolted to the deck.

  ‘That’s for delivering stoves,’ Jeremiah explained. ‘I’ve bought a few to sell here today. And there’s enough space to put the dogs on board too.’

  Aulf fixed the blacksmith with a broad grin. ‘It’s a beautiful boat. What’s it called?’

  ‘I used to have a lovely old sled dog called Mystic,’ Jeremiah told him, smiling. ‘I’m calling the boat after her.’

  Chapter 47

  Jacob and Ingar had enlisted some willing youngsters to ferry messages around the fair, but as it became busier, so it also became increasingly difficult to locate individuals. With a flash of inspiration, Jacob recalled the small signalling mirrors they had used back home, and sought out Jeremiah, locating him on his new boat. At Jacob’s request, the big blacksmith cut out several small squares from off cuts of copper, punching a little hole through the middle of each. They flattened the sheets and polished them until they shone on both sides.

  ‘What’s the hole for?’ Jeremiah asked, with interest. He was always fascinated by anything new Jacob had to show him.

  Jacob held the mirror to his face and squinted through the hole.

  ‘First you look at the person you want to signal, through this hole.’ He held his mirror so that he could sight Ingar on the top of the tower. ‘Then, look at yourself in the back of the mirror. There’s a circle of light on your face where the sun is shining through the hole. See?’

  Jeremiah was following his instructions carefully. He nodded.

  ‘Now, simply tilt the mirror until the spot of light crosses the hole. Each time it does that, it will flash in the right direction.’ Jacob demonstrated with a couple of movements of his hand. Two bright flashes were enough to attract Ingar’s attention.

  ‘COME DOWN. HAVE A GIFT FOR YOU,’ he signalled.

  By the time Jacob had pushed his way through the crowds to the tower, Ingar was already waiting for him on the ice.

  ‘How did you signal from down here?’ she demanded, impressed. Jacob showed her the small signalling mirror and how it worked. Thrilled, Ingar dashed back up her tower to test it out, but the sun was behind her so she wasn’t able to signal Jacob straight away. However, it didn’t take her long to reposition her large mirror so that she could make use of its reflected rays to send a message with the hand-held one.

  The morning sun hit the large sheet of burnished copper in a blaze of brilliance. Standing in front of the mirror, Ingar was suddenly illuminated by a dazzling burst
of glory. Her wild red hair, tossed by the wind, glowed in a halo of fire around her head. She was, for a few brief moments, like a goddess of the sun. Jacob stared, mesmerised, at the small, lithe creature of light, a fiery star bright enough to pierce the daylight. When he dropped his eyes and looked around him, at the crowds of people, their faces dull and earthly by comparison, it seemed no one else had noticed the miracle at the top of the tower.

  Ingar looked down on the fair with a sense of exultation. There it was, all laid out beneath her, the crazy lines of boats, the stalls draped in bright fabrics to shield them from the sun’s glare, crowds of people milling in slow moving clusters from stall to stall, while, here and there, figures on skates wove gracefully between them. Some boat owners had placed planks athwart, so that people could cross easily from one craft to another without risking the treacherous ice underfoot. She could watch the whole world beneath her, like a queen surveying her kingdom. The wind lifted the sounds of the fair to her in snatches of excited conversation, loud bursts of laughter and music. It seemed like everyone in the world had come to the fair.

  A couple of fast boats, approaching from the direction of Orking Do, caught her attention, but the glaring sun and the icy wind made it hard to stare for long. As the boats drew closer, she saw that they looked decidedly shabby, and she frowned. She could not immediately say why, but something about this pair did not seem quite right.

  The two boats came to a standstill at one corner of the fair. Ingar was too far away to pick out much detail, but she squinted hard and saw a sudden small flash of yellow brightness flicker, and then another. Straining her eyes, she realised, with a stab of alarm, that there were arrows arcing across the ice, towards the rows of moored boats, flaming arrows that burst into little balls of fire as they landed. Even as she took in what she was seeing, a moored boat was suddenly engulfed in a whoosh of flame as an arrow hit a lucky target and caught instantly.