The Eye of the North

by Sinead O'Hart

  Thing hesitated. “Yeah, no problem. Lemme jus’ grab this ol’ bag, ’ere,” he muttered, leaning in to pick up Emmeline’s satchel and shaking it free of its fur. He was about to slip the strap over his head when Igimaq’s strong hand grabbed his wrist.

  “I’m not going to leave you behind,” said Igimaq. “Okay?”

  Thing felt suddenly dizzy. “Didn’t think you were,” he croaked, his heart leaping with relief.

  “My mistake, then,” said Igimaq with another warm grin. “Fling that back where it belongs, okay? We’ve wasted enough time.”

  “Right.” Thing nodded, forcing himself to let go of the satchel. He settled it carefully as Igimaq whistled. With a jerk the sled pulled away. Thing wrapped his scarf up over his face, made sure his mittens were on tight, and took off after it as quickly as he could.

  Unseen by Thing, who was concentrating on where to put his feet, or by Igimaq, concerned only for his dogs, the green glow on the horizon was getting stronger with every mile they traveled, almost like it knew they were coming.

  Emmeline’s breath was coming in fast, short plumes like pure white feathers. She felt as though she and Meadowmane stood out a mile on the open, deserted ice, and at every moment she expected to hear a voice calling her name or feel a hand clamping itself over her mouth.

  A sudden loud rumbling reached her ears at the same time the ground beneath her feet started to shake. She heard a whinnying breath skittering out of Meadowmane’s chest, and she shrank against him, his wide, warm flank feeling like a comfort blanket in the cold. Together they watched the giant mirrors calmly going about their work as though nothing were happening. Is it coming now? she thought. Is the Kraken coming right now?

  As the tremors in the ice continued, Emmeline’s eye was caught by a huge metal blade, like a giant knife, appearing out of the darkness at the far side of the pool. With a sinking feeling she realized that she recognized it—the ship that had brought her here, with its terrible wheels on either side, studded all over with the sharp points that had helped it grip the ice as it rolled out of the sea….Bauer! She shook off a memory of being held captive and of having his disgusting, fleshy face up close. She watched the ship rock back and forth, settling itself securely on the ice. Several dark figures could just be seen moving as they disembarked.

  She knew which one was Dr. Bauer, because as soon as she saw him, her stomach started to churn. It felt like he was standing right beside her, fixing her with his dark eyes and murmuring low words to her in a shadowy voice. Emmeline’s eyes shut and she saw herself—like she was looking from outside—standing on the open ice, as clear as day. Bauer turned toward her and seemed to wave.

  She felt her knees buckling, and she fell, face-first, onto the ice.

  “I’ve got t’stop—whoop! Sorry! Jus’ for a minute. Jus’ to get m’breath.” Gasping, Thing fell against the sled, wishing he could wrap himself up and go to sleep. Igimaq’s face was a picture of worry, and his usually bright eyes were clouded.

  “Time to get you in here, I reckon,” he said, studying Thing’s pinched face.

  “I hate this,” said Thing, surprised by the anger that flared up inside him. His father’s voice roared in his ears again. “I’m useless! Stupid—whoop—lungs, stupid, stupid, stupid!” He wiped his running nose on the back of his sleeve and fought to stay on his feet.

  “Stupid enough to find your way up here,” mused Igimaq quietly. Thing struggled to hear him through the buzz in his mind. “Stupid enough to follow a friend, and to want to help, and to keep going when most other people would’ve given up. That sound stupid to you?”

  “Yes,” mumbled Thing.

  “Not to me, it don’t,” said Igimaq. “Right, come on. Let’s get you swapped for Miki.” He shucked himself out of his seat. The dogs, tired and panting, but surrounded by a cloud of enthusiasm so thick you could smell it, stood to attention.

  “But—whoop—come on. I can’t carry on, can I? I’m—whoop—holding you back.”

  “Just quit your whining and help me,” said Igimaq. Nimbly he made his way across the sled to his trussed-up dog, who was poking his head out of his furs inquisitively, sniffing the air. “That’s right, Miki boy,” he whispered. “Soon have you goin’ again.” Ignoring Thing, he started to undo the dog’s furs, smiling as the animal tried to lick every exposed piece of skin he could find. Thing just stood and stared, his father’s voice falling into whispers, eventually fading completely.

  “Quit yer whinin’? That’s it? That’s all you’re goin’ to say?”

  “What else would you like?” asked Igimaq, flashing a quick smile. “Now come on. We’re nearly there. Emmeline needs us, right? So hurry up.”

  Thing shrugged as he hurried around the sled to help, and before long they had Miki reharnessed and were on their way once more.

  Ahead of them the green funnel in the sky glowed brighter and brighter. Thing saw it and said nothing, and Igimaq did just the same.

  Sasha could hear Monsieur Pichon struggling to breathe. He stumbled more often than not as they trailed behind Xantha like a pair of disobedient puppies. If he fell, Sasha wondered whether he’d just be cut loose and left there to freeze.

  “Please!” she called, knowing the answer she’d receive. “Please, let him rest!” Xantha’s only reply was to lean forward, jerking the chain cruelly. Sasha hissed as a bolt of pain seared her wounded side. “He’ll die! What’s the point of all this if you’re just going to kill him here?”

  “Die here, die there, it’s all the same to me,” shouted Xantha. “I only need one of you, anyway.”

  “But that’s inhuman!” called Sasha, frustrated tears jumping to her eyes. Xantha said nothing. She just kept scanning the ice ahead of them, looking for cracks that were too wide to cross.

  “Do not…waste…your breath, my dear,” rasped Monsieur Pichon. Sasha turned to him and saw the old man trying his best to smile. His eyes had sunk back into his head, and his skin was dull. “You may as well…beg a cloud…not to rain.”

  “Come on,” she said, her voice low. She drew as close to Monsieur Pichon as she could. “Lean on me, Michel.”

  “You need your strength to carry yourself, Natasha,” he replied. His smile became a grimace as another bout of coughing rattled him from head to foot.

  “Slowly,” said Sasha, soothing. She leaned close and hooked her shoulder beneath Monsieur Pichon’s armpit. Her boots slid sideways as he leaned on her, and she could tell he was doing his best not to. “Please, Michel. I have no intention of letting us die out here. You’ve got to keep going, right? Just until we get to the compound.”

  “Whatever your master plan is, my girl, I am…all for it,” gasped Monsieur Pichon, his breath hot on Sasha’s cheek.

  “As soon as I think of it, I’ll let you know,” she murmured. After a few seconds she realized the rattling, smacking sound she was hearing was Monsieur Pichon trying not to laugh out loud.

  “If she throws me to the beast, I shall give him indigestion,” declared Monsieur Pichon. “The worst he has ever had.”

  “Now, that sounds like a master plan,” said Sasha, leaning her head on Monsieur Pichon’s, just for a second. She closed her eyes as images flashed through her mind—images of what the future might hold if Xantha or Bauer succeeded in raising the Kraken and using its power. A world frozen into stillness, dead and white and cold. Or drowned cities, destroyed buildings. Bodies floating in the streets. And if the part about its blood granting eternal life was true…She shuddered. As bad as things had become, there was plenty of room for them to get much worse—and Sasha knew that was only the things she could imagine. Who could tell what Bauer would do once he had the Kraken at his command?

  “Enough of that!” snapped Xantha, yanking the chain hard. With a yelp Sasha stumbled; as soon as she moved away, Monsieur Pichon fell to his knees.

  “Michel!” she cried, desperately trying to stop and help him up, but Xantha strode forward, her skis barely slowing. Eventu
ally Monsieur Pichon regained his feet, but Sasha could see how every step he took was a struggle, and she knew he would only get weaker.

  He caught her eye, just once, and gave a brief smile, but Sasha didn’t have the heart to return it. All she could do was blink to clear her eyes and focus on her own steps. They were within a quarter of a mile of the compound now, and Xantha started to pick up the pace even more.

  Fear blocked out everything else in Sasha’s mind, even the cold and discomfort and sorrow and loss. She took in the scale of the massive mirrors, and her eyes searched the gigantic slush pool, into which the thick, bright beam of auroral light was vanishing, and tried to work out how long they had before the Kraken came.

  Judging by the water and the lumps of floating ice, and the creaking and groaning of the ice field, it would be far too soon for comfort.

  Meadowmane gripped Emmeline’s coat in his teeth and pulled. Slowly, gradually, her cold, pinched face emerged from the freezing water that covered the ice like a film. With a flick of his head, he flipped her onto her back, shaking his mane over her. He whinnied straight into her ear, pawing at the sludgy ground.

  Then, with a sudden, lung-ripping gasp, Emmeline sucked in a breath. Her eyes popped open.

  “Meadowmane!” she spluttered, coughing. She scrambled to her feet, taking deep breaths. A chattering shiver rolled up and over her, and she stood still until it passed. “We’re in the right place, boy,” she whispered into the horse’s flank. “If he’s here, then so are my parents.” A spark of anger roared into a fire inside her. So, what are you waiting for?

  Bauer’s men were moving now, making their way toward some of the low, dark outbuildings beneath the mirrors. Emmeline saw Bauer turn to shout instructions at someone she couldn’t see, and—without her even having to ask—Meadowmane nudged her up onto his back.

  Before she knew it, they were clip-clopping to a halt right beside Dr. Bauer’s ship, but Bauer himself was nowhere to be seen. Emmeline’s anger flickered out, sucked away into the depths of the icy gloom all around them, and was replaced by a sudden flood of terror.

  Then a loud, mechanical whir burst through the air, and one of the mirrors overhead started to move. The light it was reflecting changed as its angle did, becoming brighter and stronger and more focused, and Emmeline saw the water in the pool begin to boil. Huge, rolling bubbles formed slowly at first and then with frightening speed—but, strangely, there was no steam and no heat. The air all around was as cold as ever. She slid down from Meadowmane’s back, her heart thudding in her ears, and wondered what to do next.

  The hum of a mechanism kicking into life, its whine higher-pitched than the mirror’s, drew her eyes upward.

  It was a cage being slowly lowered. Inside it were two figures wearing tight leather suits and strange masks over their faces. On their backs were two small silver tanks, and the people were holding hands like their lives depended on it. The shorter of the two had long, dark, curly hair that burst out of the helmet attempting to contain it and rippled down its owner’s back in a way so familiar to Emmeline that her heart cracked open.

  Before she could think, Emmeline raced to the edge of the pool. She skidded to a halt, barely stopping herself from falling headlong into the water.

  “Mum!” she screamed, her voice bouncing between the mirrors like a bell being struck. “Dad!”

  The figures in the cage jerked like they’d been slapped. Emmeline watched as they searched for her, and eventually—the cage still dropping—they found her.

  Mrs. Widget pulled her breathing apparatus from her mouth.

  “Emmeline!” she screamed. “Run! Run now, darling! Get away from here!” She didn’t have time to say anything else before a horrible shriek rang out from behind Emmeline. She turned to see a dark lasso flip into place around Meadowmane’s neck. One of Bauer’s men held the other end of it, leaning hard against the horse’s attempts to escape. Spots of bright red blood began to appear beneath the lasso, which, Emmeline saw, was studded with something sharp—metal or shards of broken glass. With every movement Meadowmane made, the barbs cut deeper and deeper into his flesh. He cried louder, and Emmeline stood, immobile, for a second too long before lunging toward him.

  But she never made it that far.

  “Now, now, my dear.” Bauer’s spine-shivering voice twisted its way into Emmeline’s ear. She felt his strong arms wrap around her body and lift her clean off her feet. “Not so fast, eh? Let’s say hello to your mama and papa first, shall we?”

  “Let me go!” shouted Emmeline, lashing out with her boots, desperate to find something to kick. “Let me go this second, and stop hurting Meadowmane!”

  “Meadowmane, is it?” Dr. Bauer murmured, right into her ear. “Well, I never. Who heard of an Æsirsmount allowing itself to be named by a mortal? Aren’t you a singular little creature, after all, my Emmeline.” The sound of these words made Emmeline’s stomach turn.

  “I’m not your anything! Let me go!”

  “Oh, I think not,” he replied smoothly, turning to face the pool once again, with Emmeline clamped in his arms. Directly above the pool’s freezing, bubbling surface, the cage stopped with a sudden jerk, making Emmeline’s parents stumble against its bars. Bauer moved toward the pool, and for a dizzying second Emmeline wondered if he was going to pitch her into it, straight down into darkness, but he stopped right at the edge.

  The cage swung gently on its chain. Emmeline’s parents hung helpless inside it, the aurora reflecting off their breathing equipment.

  “Eloise!” called Dr. Bauer, and Emmeline saw her mother let go of her father’s hand and grip the bars of their cage, her eyes glued to Emmeline’s face. Slowly she began to sink to the floor, her hands sliding down the bars as she went. “And, Martin! Hello there!” Emmeline’s father, white-faced with fury, stood as still as a statue. “Look who I found! Why, it’s your precious child, little Emmeline. What on earth would have brought her up here, I wonder?” Emmeline felt her teeth rattling as she listened. She focused on her parents as Bauer continued, his voice like a growl. “I think we all know what will happen if you refuse to carry out my wishes. One word is all I need to say, and your daughter will be lost to you forever.”

  “Leave her alone!” Emmeline’s father’s voice was rough and raw and booming. “She has nothing to do with any of this!”

  “Oh, I beg to differ,” said Dr. Bauer. “In fact, she is instrumental.”

  “Don’t hurt her!” shouted Emmeline’s mother. “We’ll do whatever you want, just please! Leave our daughter alone!” Emmeline saw her father drop to a crouch and wrap her mother up in a hug. Their gazes never left her face.

  “What wonderful news,” called Dr. Bauer. “I’m glad you’ve seen sense.” With that, he gave a sharp nod to someone Emmeline couldn’t see. The mechanical whir started up again, and the cage continued its downward journey at a much faster pace.

  “No! Wait! Dad!” Emmeline yelled. “Mum!” They sprang to their feet, but the floor of the cage had already touched the water’s surface. Too quickly for them to reply, the cage was swallowed by the rolling blueness, and Emmeline’s parents disappeared from view. Her heart sank with them.

  “Now let’s start again, shall we?” said Dr. Bauer, turning away from the pool and striding into the darkness, with Emmeline still clutched to his chest. “I was so very sorry to have our little chat disturbed last time.”

  She aimed a bite at his fingers, but fast as a snake, he gripped her across the forehead, pinning her so tightly that she couldn’t move.

  “Don’t get any big ideas,” he snarled.

  “Gotta be quiet now, boys,” whispered Igimaq, leaning forward in the sled. They slid across the snow like ghosts. Wrapped in furs, Thing gazed up at the structure that loomed above them. It had been visible for miles, and he’d known it was going to be big, but this? This was beyond anything he could have imagined. The green glow—was it being sucked down out of the sky?—was swirling slowly and coming to a point as i
t entered the first of the three massive mirrors. He held his breath as he followed the path of the light with his eyes, watching it bounce back and forth between the mirrors, getting stronger and brighter as it went, until eventually it beamed straight into the pool of bubbling water beneath them.

  Well—pool wasn’t really a good word. It looked more like a lake, Thing thought.

  “What the…,” breathed Igimaq, staring around at the scene. The light from the sky was reflected in his dark eyes.

  “What is it?” whispered Thing.

  “No idea,” replied Igimaq. “Something not too good, I reckon.”

  “I reckon too,” said Thing with a shiver. They drove on, Igimaq never taking his eyes off the mirrors for a second. Then Thing felt him tensing up, like a fist being clenched.

  “This is it. This is where it’s going to rise,” said Igimaq, sitting up straight. “He’s really going to do it.” Thing saw his hands shake. Igimaq swallowed, and it sounded loud in the silence.

  “Do what? What’s risin’?”

  Igimaq didn’t answer for a long, dark moment. “Have you ever heard of the Kraken?” he asked eventually, still not looking at Thing. “Monster-squid thing, lots of arms, huge snappin’ beak that can break bones without even thinking about it, gigantic round eyes—”

  “Yeah!” said Thing a little too loudly. Igimaq put a finger to his lips. “Yeah,” Thing repeated in a quieter voice. “Yeah, I know what you’re talkin’ about. The eye of the north! The eye with all the wigglin’ legs. I saw it on a map once.” He remembered the moment he first saw the strange symbol on Sasha’s map, back when all of this had seemed like such a grand adventure, and sighed at his own stupidity.

  “Right,” said Igimaq, frowning slightly. “Well, it’s been sleeping, many years, deep inside this ice, where it should’ve stayed for the rest of forever. But this guy—the guy that has Emmeline—well, he’s been trying to wake it up for a long time now. We thought he was a bit of a madman, really, a southlander who’d soon get sick and tired of the cold and the ice and go home to his fireplace and his cocoa.” Igimaq grinned a little sadly. “Guess we underestimated him.”