Hexult

by Perry Aylen

  ‘Raiders!’ she exclaimed aloud in horrified dismay, but there was no one to hear her on top of the tower. She stared in disbelief as a second boat started to burn. There were hundreds of people around, and raiders had sailed straight in and attacked brazenly, in broad daylight.

  In an instant, Ingar gathered her wits, realising she had to act fast, before the fires, now erupting amongst the tightly packed boats, spread and engulfed the fair. From her vantage point she could see clearly that they were in serious trouble. There were sheriffs’ boats, from three districts, amongst the tightly packed ranks, all easily identifiable by their pennants, fluttering in the wind, and all completely hemmed in by hundreds of other visiting boats. The sheriffs were supposed to patrol the fair, sailing around the perimeter, but, as the crowds had grown, so had demands for the assistance of the law. Called in to settle disagreements, stop fights, or deal with thieves, one by one, the sheriffs’ men had returned to their boats to find a temporary settlement had grown up so tightly around them, that they were no longer able to navigate out onto the open ice.

  There was a little cluster of children on skates, waiting at the bottom of the tower to ferry messages in return for varins. Ingar leaned out over the edge of the parapet and yelled down to them urgently.

  ‘Find the sheriffs’ boats quickly. There are raiders attacking out there!’ She pointed to indicate the direction of the attack. Even from her great height, she saw their eyes widen. ‘Hurry!’ she called after them, as they skated purposefully away.

  Ingar turned her gaze in the direction of the Mystic and began frantically scouring the sea of people in that vicinity. Everyone was warmly muffled in furs and thick knitted woollen hats and scarves, but her keen gaze picked out Grim, head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. She focused her small mirror on him and flashed it repeatedly. She saw him look up and wave to her. She kept up the flashing, and watched him disappear between the stalls nearby. Glancing back anxiously at the raiders’ vessels, she saw that several more small boats were now alight, burning dangerously. She looked back towards the Mystic, and, to her relief, saw Grim reappear, with Jacob in tow. Weaving between the crowds of people, the two of them skated across to the tower, and Ingar leant over and once more yelled down what was happening.

  From her tall eyrie, she spotted a sudden flurry of activity around the two nearest sheriffs’ boats, as the sheriff’s men abandoned their stranded vessels and took to the ice on their skates, zigzagging between the jumbled lines of moored craft, towards the raiders. Like ripples on water, Ingar could see news of the attack spreading out from the sheriffs’ boats, working its way back to the edge of the fair, and then from stall to stall. Wherever it touched, the mood of celebration instantly became fear. People began to jostle and shout, pushing each other out of the way to make their escape. Panic coursed through the throngs, and stall holders hastily pulled down canopies and bundled their goods into sacks and crates. But nobody could go anywhere because they were too tightly packed. Ingar saw a woman race to grab a small child, and lose her footing on the ice. The child tumbled with her, and people, pushing to get past, tripped over them and fell, shouting. She saw others slipping and falling, heard more screams and cries of fear. Further away, a stall came crashing down as jostling crowds collided against it, and several fights broke out as people lost their patience with others blocking their way, or forcing a path in the opposite direction.

  The sheriffs’ men were almost through the jumble of boats. Ingar shouted down to Jacob and Jeremiah to let them know what was happening. Thick smoke was billowing from the boats on fire, partly obscuring her view, but she could still make out the two raiders’ boats, and the arrows, arching intermittently towards the helpless vessels crowded around the fair.

  ‘They’re still there!’ she bellowed down.

  Jacob frowned in puzzlement at Jeremiah. ‘What are they doing?’ he said, thinking aloud. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. Why would they burn the boats and not steal anything?’

  Jeremiah shook his head. ‘And only two of them. Against hundreds.’

  Jacob stared as though Jeremiah had just said something terrible. His skin went cold.

  ‘Ingar!’ he yelled, stabbing at the air with his hand. ‘Go round to the other side! Look in the other direction!’

  The panic in the crowd was intensifying. People were shrieking and crying out. It was hard for Ingar to hear Jacob above the general din, and the roar of the wind that was her constant companion on the tower top.

  ‘What?’ she yelled back.

  Urgently, he gestured again at the far side of the tower. Grasping his meaning, Ingar nodded and ran. For a few moments, they lost sight of her, then she was back, hanging over the edge of the parapet.

  ‘More boats,’ she called down, ‘At least twelve, maybe more. Coming over the ice! One’s a barge! What should I do?’

  ‘Try to call the sheriffs’ men back,’ Jacob yelled back. She shook her head to indicate that she couldn’t hear him. He shouted again, but the clamour surrounding him was too loud. Jeremiah stepped forward and raised his voice to a mighty roar, and this time, Ingar understood. Swiftly she raised her mirror and flashed hasty signals into the crowd, hoping her messengers would see them, but there was too much pandemonium. No one was looking her way. Quickly, she ran back to the other side of the tower, and her heart sank as she saw the larger raider fleet sailing in amongst the moored boats there. Undefended, the islanders’ boats were sitting targets. The raiders could take their pick. They were cutting free the choicest vessels and dragging them over the ice to the barge. Men were jumping onto the stranded craft, swinging axes, breaking into cabins, and hacking through masts and tillers to disable the boats they did not deem worthy of stealing. Some of the moored vessels had passengers aboard. Ingar heard shrieks of terror as people tried to make their hasty escape over the ice, and saw fights break out as braver boat owners made a stand to resist the invaders.

  ‘They’re stealing the boats!’ she called down to Jacob and Jeremiah, pointing in the direction of the new attack. She saw Grim’s face set hard and his hand reach for the blacksmith’s hammer he wore on his broad belt. He had had enough of waiting. Hefting the hammer, he headed away on his skates, elbowing his way through the crowds, the only man going in the right direction.

  One of Ingar’s young messengers appeared unexpectedly at the foot of the tower, pale and scared. Jacob took the boy by the arm.

  ‘The two raider boats setting fire to our boats are just a decoy,’ he explained to the child. ‘The real attack is happening over there. They are stealing our boats away. I need you to get that message to the sheriffs’ men as quickly as you can, do you understand?’

  The white-faced boy nodded silently, and headed back the way he had come. Jacob watched him go with a feeling of hopeless desperation. He didn’t believe it would help at all. There was no way the sheriffs or their men, on skates, would be able to get round to the other side of the fair in time, but he had to try. He couldn’t stand there and do nothing while the raiders made free.

  The raiders’ barge was moving away again, a fleet of stolen boats in tow. The other attackers were heading back towards the fair, unable to resist some final pickings. Ingar watched, angry and dismayed, but helpless to stop them. She thought she glimpsed another flash of orange brightness on one of the boats, and her heart sank. The pirates would burn the boats they could not steal, and if they set fire to the moored vessels on this side, it would not be long before the fair was ringed by a wall of fire, trapping hundreds of people in the middle. The result would be unthinkable.

  Fighting back the rising panic, she tried to clear her head. No ideas came. Her eyes trailed the horizon while she wondered urgently what to do next. As her gaze turned towards Orking Do, she gasped, her heart jolting into her throat. There, silhouetted darkly against the ice, was another dark army of boats, bearing down at speed.

  ‘Souls of the Vajra!’ she exclaimed in horror. She gripped the rail of her woo
den parapet, and shrieked down at Jacob.

  ‘It’s the Horde! Coming from Orking Do!’

  She saw Jacob’s mouth fall open in the same dismay that had seized her. They did not stand a chance. The fair was surrounded.

  Jacob felt sick with horror. This had all been his idea. He had convinced all these people to gather out here, on the open ice, and now they were all in mortal danger. He had set up the best and easiest attack the Horde would ever have the opportunity to make, and they had seized it with open hands. Hexult was lost!

  Chapter 48

  The Voyager was an impressive boat, sleekly built, with comfortable living quarters, lavishly decorated with carved panels and a canopied ceiling. On the floor were warm rugs, and lanterns swung from brackets on the walls. Four static bunks doubled as seats, and four more folded out from the wall above, all with mattresses of goose down, soft bolsters, and covers of soft heavy bearskin to keep the crew snug through the bitterest night on the open ice.

  Elya emerged from the cabin onto the deck of the boat, pulling her fur coat tightly around her and narrowing her eyes against the cold hard brightness of the dazzling ice. After the brazier-lit, windowless warmth of the cabin, the cold white air bit hard. Apart from the other boats making up the convoy, there was nothing to be seen. No sign of land or any other life, just the empty frozen waste, stretching in all directions.

  Isambard was in his customary place, standing at the prow. Isambard fascinated her. His dark, striking looks, his grand manner, his expressive voice, his resplendent clothing, everything about him was dramatic and larger than life. Even the way he was poised on the prow had a theatrical quality about it, feet squarely planted on the wooden deck, hands resting lightly on the wide leather belt at his hips, broad shoulders pulled back, head held high. His soft fur hat was as black as his shaggy mane of hair; as black as Elya’s, and almost as long. But where Elya’s contrasted so starkly with the whiteness of her skin, Isambard was swarthy, with eyes of jet, set deep in his face. He wore a coat of black leather, and around his shoulders hung a heavy cloak of fur-lined wool, as dark as the night sky. Even his long leather boots were black. With the ghost of a smile, Elya remembered the first time she had set eyes on Isambard, how daunting he had seemed, fearsome even. In fact, she thought to herself, as she recalled that fateful day, months ago now, he had seemed even more frightening than the raiders.

  * * *

  Pain had exploded through her leg and her wrist as she hit the ice in Spinnyridge harbour. The stone that had thudded into her back had hurt too, winding her and knocking her off balance. But there had been no time to stop and nurse her injuries. She could hear the men on the dockside shouting, and, even as she clambered back to her feet, another stone hurtled past her ear, missing her head by a hair’s breadth.

  When Ingar left the Aurora to go after Aulf, Elya waited, tense and nervous, keeping the cabin door ajar and watching the rough, rocky quayside for any sign of the angry mob returning. She had on her outdoor clothes, and even her skates, in case of trouble. Ingar had made the soldiers promise they would let her bring back Aulf so that they could leave this horrible island, but Elya’s heart still raced uncomfortably as she waited, willing Aulf and Ingar to reappear over the hill. When she heard the loud voices again, the harsh laughter and the threatening shouts growing unmistakably closer, she had panicked. She had tried to slip unseen over the edge of the boat. If she had been Ingar, she would have made it, slinking invisibly from the shadow of one rock to another, but fear made her clumsy, and she stumbled as she tried to sneak her way across to a neighbouring pontoon. She heard the raised cries as the soldiers spotted her, and abandoning all attempts at subtlety, she fled to the mouth of the harbour, in the hope that she could make it out of sight behind the headland and double back to hide at the rocky point, the rendezvous she and Ingar had agreed earlier, and wait there to be picked up by the Aurora.

  The heavy stone sent her sprawling. She cried out as she hit the hard ice with a thud, but the men behind her were oblivious. She heard them cheering as they aimed more missiles in her direction. With difficulty, she struggled back to her feet, ignoring bolts of pain stabbing her left leg, felt the second stone hurtle past her head, and forced her skates forward again, seized by a terror that these men intended, not simply to scare her, but to kill her. She could hear whoops of savage excitement following her as she lurched towards the open ice, sobbing with fear and pain. As she drew level with the rocky promontory, she turned her head to make sure she would be out of sight before she made her sweep and headed back for cover.

  Her heart sank. A whimper of despair broke from her throat. Her predators had taken to boats, two small day boats, light and fast. She had a head start, but they were already throwing off the moorings and in moments would be hard on her heels.

  She knew she would not make the point now without being seen. Her only hope was to find a cove or an inlet, too small for a boat. She was picking up speed, despite her damaged knee. Unfamiliar with Spinnyridge, she had no idea where to head. All she could do was skate harder than she had ever skated in her life, and hope for luck to throw her a lifeline.

  The little boats were fast, skimming lightly over the ice as the wind filled their sails. With another jolt of despair, Elya realised she had made a costly error of judgement when she headed out of the harbour. Instead of skating into the wind, it was at her back, and the two boats were bearing down on her like arrows fired straight from a bow.

  She sensed the boats closing behind her, to her left. If they cut off her escape to the right, they would push her towards the shore. If she ran ashore, she would have to stop and take off her skates, and by the time she had done that, they would be upon her. Her only other option was to skate towards the open ice, and hope her ability to manoeuvre faster than the boats would buy her enough time for the Aurora to come to her rescue.

  Desperately she spun away from the coastline, cutting across the trajectory of the two pursuing craft, stumbling momentarily as her injured knee gave way, but forcing herself to recover and keep up the momentum she had gained. The two boats made the turn to follow her, but she had gained ground again. A hasty plan formed in her mind. She would pick up all the speed she could, skating hard in a straight line towards the open ice, and when the boats were almost up with her, she would make a sharp about turn and head back to the harbour. Hopefully, Ingar and Aulf would have reached the Aurora by then.

  She skated furiously, lungs aching in the freezing air, beads of perspiration forming ice crystals on her face. Glancing back, she saw the boats closing the gap again.

  She heard a shout from the closest boat, a cry of alarm, a warning. To her surprise, she saw that both craft were slowing, men falling over each other on deck in their haste to turn their tiny vessels round. She could hear the urgency in their shouts. She turned her face forward again, and to her horror, emerging through the low mist that hung over the ice, she saw two bigger shabby boats, bearing down at speed, one of them heading straight at her. Raiders! It had to be!

  What followed happened in a confused blur. Instinctively, Elya turned landward. With the two small day boats fleeing back to the harbour, she knew she had a good chance of escape if she could only get in among the rocks that fringed the shore. The raiders’ vessels were too big to follow her there. But, as she spun left, her injured knee folded completely, and she crumpled onto the ice with a wail of pain and alarm, sliding and tumbling directly in the path of the nearest oncoming boat. She could hear clearly the shouts of men on board as they saw her fall, and tried to swing their course to avoid sailing straight over her.

  Sobbing aloud, she scrambled back to her feet, stumbling forward as the prow of the ship loomed above her.

  She felt the impact, a hammer-blow to her shoulder, and had a momentary sensation of hurtling through the air before her body collided with the unyielding ice with a bone-cracking thud, and she lay spread-eagled and still.

  Chapter 49

  Voices roused her,
unfamiliar men’s voices, tinged with an accent she did not know. Her cheek was pressed into the hard, rough planks of a deck. Her whole body ached and throbbed, but her head especially.

  ‘You take too many risks,’ she heard a gruff voice say. ‘That was much too close to the harbour. And a waste of time!’

  ‘Not a waste,’ she heard a lighter, smoother voice respond. ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’s not exactly weighed down with valuables,’ grunted the first man. ‘We’ve no idea who she is, so we can’t even hold her for ransom.’

  ‘Pretty though,’ said the second man. ‘Somebody will pay a good price for her. We’ll sell her and split the money.’

  ‘In the meantime,’ grumbled his companion, ‘we’ve lost precious time and those Thorland boats are still out there. They don’t give up easily.’

  ‘You worry too much! They’ll all be heading back to their firesides and their nice warm suppers soon. They won’t bother us again.’

  The men fell silent. Elya found she was shaking. She hoped nobody was watching her too closely. She wanted them to think she was still unconscious. How many men were on board this boat? At least six, she imagined, maybe more. A little surge of hope made her heart jump as she realised they had not tied her up. She appeared to have been dumped, unceremoniously, into a corner of the deck. That should make escape easier, she thought, then, like a rush of cold air, reality swept in. To leave this boat would mean certain death, alone, unprotected and lost in the middle of a vast, featureless ice ocean. Any attempt at escape could only be made if there was land in sight. For now, all she could do was lie very still and trust to good fortune.