“But why would anyone want to wake it up?” asked Thing, confused. “Sounds like the kind of thing as should be left alone, if you ask me.” He gazed back up at the mirrors again, hearing the distant moan of their motors as they changed direction. The beam into the water didn’t falter.
“Well, yeah. We don’t want it woken. The last time that happened, well…” Igimaq grimaced. “It’s ancient, you know? Probably won’t be too happy at having spent the last whatever hundred years frozen stiff.” Igimaq paused, taking a thoughtful breath. “The legends I was raised on have plenty to say about it, not much of it good. My grandfather liked to keep me awake at night by telling me stories about how it’s bigger than ten whales put together and unstoppable once it gets going. It can destroy anything it likes with those massive tentacles it’s got, and it has a bellow that can shatter solid rock. Its blood is supposed to be the elixir of eternal life or something—because it’s immortal, some say. If you drink it, there’s no killing you. It has eyes that can see straight to the bones of anyone foolish enough to stand against it, and its gaze can turn anything to ice. Yeah.” Igimaq shivered. “It’s not the kind of thing you want to see knocking about again. You know the Ice Age? This guy was behind all that.” Thing listened, cold air streaming in and out of his lungs, his nose running like a tap, and wondered what he’d been thinking by coming up here in the first place. If his brain had had a boot, it would’ve been using it to kick him.
“You said it got woken up before?” he said eventually. “It must’ve been stopped then, since someone put it back in its box. Any ideas ’ow they did it?”
“Nobody remembers,” said Igimaq.
“Brilliant.”
“Yeah,” said Igimaq before whistling quietly. Without so much as a whimper, the dogs picked up the pace.
“What does he want Ems for, then? I mean, what was the point of goin’ to the trouble of kidnappin’ some random kid?”
“He’ll want to use her as his sacrifice, I reckon,” said Igimaq distractedly, still gazing up at the structure. Thing grabbed Igimaq’s arm and stared into his face, hoping he’d misheard.
“What? What are you talking about now?”
Igimaq blinked at Thing. “Well—ah. It’s like this. The legends claim that when the Kraken is awoken, the first person to offer it a living sacrifice can, so they say, control it—make it do whatever its master wants, destroy whoever they’re not overfond of, knock mountains over like they were twigs, freeze whole oceans solid, all that sort of stuff. Anyway. So the stories go. I reckon this lunatic wants to be the one to offer the sacrifice. I’d be willing to bet Ems is it, too.” Thing quivered, and his heart hopped so fast that it felt ready to pop.
“But—that’s crazy!”
“Men that go about stirring up ancient monsters aren’t famed for their levelheadedness, I s’pose,” said Igimaq mildly, guiding the dogs around a pool on the ice.
“We can’t let him do this,” said Thing, his hands clenching into fists.
“We’d better be quick, then,” said Igimaq. “He’s got a bit of a head start.”
“Magnificent,” breathed Xantha, gazing up at the mirrors. As she spoke, the one nearest them moved slightly, just barely changing the angle of its reflection. The beam of auroral light going into the water thickened by several feet as a result, and a fresh explosion of bubbles danced across the surface of the semifrozen lake. “Whatever else I might want to say about Siegfried Bauer, he’s certainly good at what he does. Working out that only the light of the aurora could pierce the ancient ice of the Kraken’s cavern? Genius.”
“He’s insane,” spat Sasha. “But then, so are you.”
“Now, now, my dear,” said Xantha, turning to face Sasha, the light of the aurora reflecting in her eyes. “Watch your mouth, like a good girl.” At these words Sasha growled and lashed out with her right foot, smashing it into Xantha’s shin as hard as she could. Just as she was drawing back for a second attempt, Xantha grabbed her boot and sent her sprawling to the ground.
“Excellent. That makes one decision a little easier,” said Xantha, smiling maddeningly down at her. She slid her fingers into a pouch at her belt and drew out a pair of handcuffs, which settled in her grip with a soft clink.
“What decision?” Sasha struggled to her feet, her bound hands and aching side making it very hard to keep her balance. Monsieur Pichon lay in a huddled heap on the ground, gazing up at the structure overhead with watery eyes. He barely had the strength to breathe.
“Well, I was going to get you to fight one another for the privilege of being my sacrifice, but this is much easier,” she sneered. “You can have the best seat in the house while your colleague goes to greet the beast.” Sasha’s mind reeled as she listened. So it’s really happening. They’re really going through with a sacrifice, like the old legends say, and if it actually works as it’s supposed to…She felt a stab of despair. And Michel has no chance of fighting them. But you do! You could have saved him from that fate, but instead you had to mess it all up….
“No! Please take me. Take me! Leave Michel here. Honestly, he’s old—what use is he?” Sasha felt a painful swelling in her throat as she spoke. “Come on!”
“He will go down the hatch just as easily as you would.” Xantha smiled, fastening an ice-cold cuff around Sasha’s right wrist. Not far from them stood a support strut for one of the mirrors. Xantha dragged Sasha toward it, the iron around Sasha’s wrist biting into her skin.
“You can’t do this,” said Sasha. “You can’t throw an innocent old man to his death!”
“You’d rather I threw an innocent young woman to hers?” asked Xantha, forcing Sasha’s hands on either side of a bar of the metal strut and fastening the free cuff around her other wrist. Hopelessly Sasha pulled at the bar, but it didn’t give an inch. “I am not a total monster, whatever reports about me would have you believe.”
“I hope the Kraken crushes you,” Sasha growled. “I hope it leaves you for dust.”
“Oh, there’s no fear of that,” said Xantha. “No fear whatsoever. You know, it’ll be wonderful, not only to have the Kraken under my control, but also to swoop in at the last second and steal victory from Siegfried. Particularly when he’s gone to all this trouble.” Xantha looked around, taking in the entire structure with a glance. She leaned in close to Sasha and placed a hand over one of hers. “Let me thank you, right here, for helping me bring my dream to fruition.”
Before Sasha had a chance to aim another kick, Xantha danced away from her, laughing over her shoulder as she went. She grabbed Monsieur Pichon under the arm and pulled him to his feet, and Sasha watched as they vanished into the distance. It made her heart hurt to watch Monsieur Pichon being dragged through the snow to certain death, and the pain of not getting a chance to say goodbye made her head throb.
“It—can’t—happen—like—this!” she groaned, clanging her handcuffs against the bar with every word. She gritted her teeth and pulled as hard as she could, but it was no use. She sank to her knees, her head whirling, and tried not to hear Xantha’s cruel laughter being carried back to her on the breeze.
“Madam? Are you—are you all right?”
The sudden voice, silvery and barely audible, made Sasha jump. Her cuffs rattled as she rose to her feet.
“Who—who’s there?” she said, scanning the darkness all around her.
“It’s just me,” replied the voice. Sasha blinked, trying to work out where it was coming from, but it seemed like it was coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Then a swirl of snow, and there he was—a tiny boy, barely five years old, dressed in an old-fashioned frock coat and a jaunty red scarf. He stood in front of her, smiling broadly. His cheeks, deeply dimpled, were rosy, and his small hands were bare, but his eyes were a dark navy blue from lid to lid.
“What on earth? Where did you come from?”
“Oh, from somewhere close by,” said the boy, his voice like tinkling icicles.
“Where’s your mummy
?” Sasha’s heart thundered in her chest. Keep him away from Xantha! flashed across her mind.
“Oh, she’s around here somewhere,” said the child vaguely. “You know, I can set you free. Do you believe me?” Sasha tried to smile, but her tears rolled down her cheeks as she did. Why not play along? she told herself. There’ll be nothing left of us soon.
“I’m sure a clever boy like you can do anything,” she said. The child laughed, his tiny teeth shining in the gloom, and stepped toward her until he was close enough to touch her skin.
The next thing Sasha knew, she was at the heart of a whirling wind, with spikes of ice flinging themselves at her from all angles. A shattering pain surrounded her heart, and her chest filled with cold. She tried to scream, but the ice just flew into her throat, choking her. She buried her face in the crook of her elbow, feeling the sting of the ice shards digging into her flesh, and squeezed her eyes shut against the howling gale that lifted her up into the air. The handcuffs shattered and fell to the ground, a vivid weal on Sasha’s skin rising where the freezing metal had touched her.
“One sacrifice is much the same as another,” came a voice, huge and roaring, like waves crashing onto a rocky shore, and Sasha was swallowed by the icy storm.
One of the things Emmeline disliked most about herself was her fear of heights. She was constantly trying to force herself to be brave, and if not that, then nonchalant, and failing even that, to be careful—in which case, of course, there was no need to be afraid.
If only things had been slightly different, then this would have been the perfect training exercise.
The thick leather strap from which she was suspended was cutting into her hands, and the wind was blowing right up her dress, prodding at her with its icy, needly fingers. She swayed slightly, rocking to and fro in the air three hundred feet above the gaping lake below—the lake from which she expected the Kraken to appear any second and, more importantly, into which her parents had disappeared. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the strap around her wrists as if it could give her even a small bit of comfort, but it was attached to a chain that vanished into the metalwork above her, and so clutching it did nothing at all to help. She couldn’t even reach her pockets—mournfully she realized her tools were useless to her now.
A voice boomed close by, making her jump.
“Your parents—bless them!—clever little things that they are, will nearly be finished by now. Thank goodness for their unparalleled knowledge. Do you know, experts in ultralarge, unique creatures are rare as hens’ teeth these days? Thank goodness for OSCAR and their specialists.” Emmeline swung herself, spluttering, to face Dr. Bauer. He was standing on a platform suspended between two of the mirrors, a few feet from where she hung. She didn’t want to look at him, but at least it meant she didn’t have to look down. “Anyway, my apologies if this is painful, my dear. Rest assured you won’t be here very long.”
“What’s going to happen to my mum and dad?” shouted Emmeline.
“Well,” replied Dr. Bauer, raising his eyebrows as if he were giving the question some serious thought. “Let’s see. Assuming they have enough oxygen left to reach the surface, and the cold doesn’t kill them—which is unlikely, naturally—they’ll probably be destroyed by the Kraken when it raises itself out of its prison. It won’t be taking care where it puts its tentacles, if you know what I mean. But at least it won’t eat them; the beast dines only on the living, of course.” His words made Emmeline’s insides turn to water.
“You can’t do this!” She kicked out, aiming at Dr. Bauer. All that did was make her swing, sickeningly, in midair.
“Now, now, my dear,” he said. “We don’t want you feeding yourself to the beast before it’s ready for you! Stay still now, won’t you?” Emmeline’s anger started to trickle away, only to be replaced by fear and sickness as she felt herself swinging to and fro, to and fro, like a pendulum.
“So if you’re quite all right there, Miss Widget, I’m just going to pop off now. Important to get to safety before the beast rises—I’m sure you understand.” Emmeline could hear the sneer in Dr. Bauer’s voice, and her whole body boiled with hatred. She swung herself to face him again.
“I won’t let you do this!” she shouted. Dr. Bauer just waved and turned his back before carefully picking his way down a set of metal stairs and vanishing into the shadows. As soon as he was gone, Emmeline cast her gaze around, trying as hard as she could to find some way out of her predicament. Could I climb up the chain? Get across to the side? Maybe I can swing myself over to that platform! It was hard to see, but she felt pretty sure Dr. Bauer hadn’t left her enough slack to do that.
She swung gently, her lungs burning, and thought hard.
“I might not have much choice about being here,” she muttered, “but that does not mean I’m going to hang about like an hors d’oeuvre. And don’t you even think about screaming, Emmeline Mary.”
So, squeezing her eyes tight against the drop, she started to do the only thing she could.
“Hey, hey, look,” said Igimaq suddenly, his body tensed and ready to spring. He removed a hand from the sled and pointed straight up, right at the narrowest point between the mirrors. Thing and Igimaq had pulled into a patch of shadow beneath one of the struts a few moments before. As the dogs had lain, panting happily, on the cold ground, they’d been trying to keep an eye on everything all at once.
“Where are you lookin’, mate?” Thing asked, squinting into the sky. The brightness of the light beam was making his eyes water. “I couldn’t see a roast dinner with all the trimmin’s at that distance.”
“Hanging in the middle of the gap between the mirrors,” said Igimaq. “It looks like—yep. I think it’s Emmeline.”
Thing felt like someone had slapped him. “What? She all right?”
“Looks to be,” said Igimaq, shading his eyes with one hand. “Hard to know.”
“What on earth’s she doin’ up there?”
“Bauer has her ready, like a stunned seal.” Igimaq dropped his hand, his face crumpling. “I’ve really let her down now. We should’ve hurried. I should’ve come straight here. I should’ve—”
“But if you’d come straight here, you wouldn’t’ve saved me,” Thing pointed out. He licked his lips, thinking fast, never removing his eyes from the flailing dot that was Emmeline, high above.
“True enough,” said Igimaq, trying to smile.
“And if you hadn’t saved me, we’d have no chance of saving Ems.”
“What’s that, now?” Igimaq’s eyes flew open and he stared at Thing.
“Do you have a knife or a blade I could borrow for a while?”
Igimaq raised an eyebrow and grinned as he pulled a small knapsack toward himself. He flipped it open and reached inside.
“Wouldn’t be much of a hunter without one,” he said. The blade of the knife he gave to Thing was wrapped in leather, and its handle was made of something that looked like bone, carved to fit snugly in a palm.
“Perfect,” said Thing, sticking it into his belt. “Wish me luck, then.”
“Luck,” said Igimaq.
“Right.” Thing sized up the structure. Shouldn’t be a problem. Bigger than anythin’ you’ve done before, but come on—it’s Ems up there. Get to it!
Then, quietly as a shadow at midnight, Thing launched himself out of the sled. Barely touching the snow, he ran toward the nearest strut, landing on it with the grace of a cat. He looked up, calculating his route. He was fairly sure he could see a clear path almost the whole way up, nearly all of it hidden behind the shadow of the nearest mirror, and he told himself that the bits he couldn’t see from here he’d manage when he got closer. Swinging himself for extra momentum when he needed to, landing silently and steadily each time, he flew. Every move was nimble, every handhold strong, every foothold secure, and very soon he was twenty, then thirty, then forty feet in the air, and climbing.
“Well, isn’t that something,” whispered Igimaq far below. “You lookin
g, boys?” Miki’s ears pricked up and Balto’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as, jaws hanging, they watched Thing’s progress.
“Careful,” muttered Thing. The last few handholds he’d managed to grab hadn’t been all that satisfactory, and he’d had to stop for a minute to get his head together. The higher he went, the slippier the crossbars and struts were becoming, and the colder the air was too. His breath tore in and out of his chest like a saw, but—so far—the whooping had stayed away. He took stock of his surroundings as he got his breath back. From where he was, he could clearly see Emmeline hanging, like meat in a butcher’s window, from a long, thick chain attached to a metal bar, and he wondered how much longer he had before she’d be Kraken food. He couldn’t help but smile, just a little, as he watched her swing herself back and forth, grunting as she went, curling her legs up a little higher every time. He just hoped the creaking of the chain wasn’t a sign that it was about to give way.
He thought about shouting her name but then decided against it. The last thing he wanted was to draw anyone’s attention. Not until he was ready for it, at least.
“Right. Get to it,” he muttered, carefully picking his way forward. His toes, through his thin soles, gripped the strut nearly as well as his fingers did in his thick mittens, and he made slow but steady progress. Don’t look down, he kept repeating to himself. Focus on the goal.
Something inside his ears shivered into life then—something sharp. His body went limp, against his will.
Don’t look down! How often ’ave I to tell you? Don’t look down! Focus on the goal!
Thing’s nostrils flared as he struggled to breathe, and fear gripped him.
…Useless thing!…
…Can’t even do a simple tumble right…
Thing gritted his teeth and steadied himself. He reached for the next handhold, forcing his terror down, away into a corner of his mind. His lungs felt like they were filling with glue.
The Eye of the North Page 21