The Eye of the North

by Sinead O'Hart

  Emmeline turned to face the structure again. In midair, between the mirrors and right above the frothing pool, keeping well clear of the light beam, was something that looked like a flock of crystal birds. Swooping back and forth, forming and reforming, the sparkling shards seemed almost playful, but the terrified cry for help came from inside it again as Emmeline stared.

  “It’s Sasha,” said Edgar, moving to stand beside her. “I’d know her voice anywhere. Sasha Sasha, I mean, not that…thing. Whatever it was.” A look of pained confusion flickered over his face.

  “But where…,” Emmeline began, and then it all became clear. Through a gap in the flickering black cloud, she saw Sasha. She was suspended as if something had a hold of her arms. Her head swept from side to side as she followed the path of the dark, whirling ice crystals billowing around her.

  “Sasha!” roared Edgar. “Hold on!” Her eyes flicked toward the ground, searching, but it was clear to Emmeline that she couldn’t see him.

  “Edgar!” she cried. “Please!”

  “I think there’s a staircase somewhere—” Emmeline started to say, but she was interrupted by another shout, this time one that came from high above them, somewhere in the structure itself.

  “If you think you’re going to take this from me, you’re tragically mistaken!” Emmeline didn’t recognize the voice, but Thing did.

  “It’s her! The nutter who chased me at Monsieur Pichon’s place! It can’t be!” Thing stared up at the mirrors, squinting.

  “Who?” said Emmeline.

  “Not a blimmin’ clue,” Thing answered. “All’s I know is, she came after me, and then she—or one of ’er crew, at least—shot at the Cloud Catcher. She must’ve followed me in that big black flyin’ thingie. I s’pose she took Sasha here too. And—look! She’s got Monsieur Pichon!”

  “Who?” said Emmeline again.

  Edgar’s face had darkened. He looked back at the structure.

  “Michel,” he breathed, his lips in a grim line. “So our mystery guest has a sacrifice to make too. This Kraken is a popular fellow.”

  “Sacrifice?” said Emmeline. “What?”

  “First fella to sacrifice a livin’ thing to Mr. Kraken gets to control ’im,” said Thing. “Splish, splash, aaaargh! Y’know, all that.” Edgar stared at Thing like he’d suddenly started to tap-dance, and Emmeline’s jaw dropped as she listened.

  “Who told you—” Edgar began to ask.

  “No time—we’ve got to get Sasha down from there,” said Thing. “Come on!”

  “But how?” asked Emmeline as she hurried behind Edgar and Thing toward the nearest strut.

  Then a loud clang-clang-clannnnng noise kicked off, high above, echoing and reverberating in everyone’s head. Emmeline gritted her teeth as it rattled through her skull. The roaring, howling noise they’d heard before started up again with a vengeance.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  “How do you like that, you infernal thing!” shouted Xantha, sounding triumphant. Emmeline looked up and saw her beating a length of metal piping against a crossbar of the structure. The noise was unbearable.

  However little Emmeline liked the sound, though, the Northwitch liked it even less. She shrieked like a demon, and—over all the clamor—Emmeline heard Sasha screaming again. Emmeline watched as the Northwitch’s movements came to a sudden, stuttering halt. It’s not the noise, Emmeline realized. It’s the vibration! The ice crystals making up the Northwitch’s body weren’t sure what to do—some of them dived on Xantha in an attempt to attack, and others zoomed around in rings, tighter and tighter, until they fell out of the sky altogether. Sasha seemed to be slipping out of the Northwitch’s grip—as she tried to keep herself together, she was losing her hold on her prisoner. The ice shards, confused and rattling, flew without direction or control.

  Emmeline didn’t know why her hand slid to her coat pocket, or why her shivering fingers closed around the handle of the heavy silver spoon she’d taken from Dr. Bauer’s boat. She kept her eyes on the Northwitch the whole time, watching as she solidified into her woman shape every few seconds, then broke up again into thousands of screaming shards.

  In some dark corner of her brain, Emmeline saw an opportunity.

  Wait for it, she told herself. Careful…The ice fragments were swirling, looping erratically, but Emmeline knew it was only a matter of time before they rearranged themselves once more.

  Then, quick as a blink, the Northwitch’s body reappeared, grasping Sasha firmly by the upper arms, and Emmeline flung the spoon as hard as she could, right at the center of the Northwitch’s forehead. Like a tiny silver pinwheel, it flew through the air and smacked, bowl-first, against the Northwitch’s face, making a satisfying crash.

  With a yell that raised the hair on Emmeline’s head, every single crystal in the body of the Northwitch shattered into randomly sized, sharp-edged pieces of dark ice, very different from the fine, sparkling powder that Emmeline had seen before. They began to plop into the Kraken’s pool like hailstones.

  Lots of things happened at the same time then.

  With one final scream Sasha dropped out of the sky, and before Emmeline could draw breath to call her name, she had disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

  An explosion on the far side of the pool punctured the night as Dr. Bauer’s knife-prowed boat suddenly burst into flames; a hoarse cheer went up, along with another purple flare.

  The bright flash of a gun flickered once, twice, in the darkness of the structure, high up, and bullets pinged off the metal beside Xantha. She turned, horrified, and dropped her pipe, fumbling at her belt instead. Monsieur Pichon took his chance, aiming a punch that knocked her off balance. As they wrestled for the gun she was attempting to pull from its holster at her hip, a third shot rang out from above—and Monsieur Pichon’s face collapsed in pain. Using the last of his strength, he wrapped his arms around Xantha’s body and fell from the balcony, dropping like a stone to the hard ground far below.

  “Siegfried!” Xantha shouted, and then they were gone.

  Emmeline ripped off her fur coat and ran to the water’s edge. She dived straight in.

  Edgar roared and drew his pistol out of its holster. He fired into the shadows but knew he hadn’t a hope of finding his target. It must have been Bauer who’d shot Michel, he realized, but Bauer was nowhere in sight. Coward! thought Edgar, desperately scanning the structure, his gun trained on anything that moved.

  Thing stood, struck numb, wondering where Igimaq had gone and wishing he knew what to do.

  “Emmeline!” he shouted, falling to his knees by the side of the pool. “Ems!” He couldn’t see anything in the dark water. The green beam hissed overhead.

  “Where is she? Where’s Sasha?” shouted Edgar. His gun wobbled a bit as he swung it, but there was still no movement in the structure above them.

  “I dunno!” said Thing. “We’ve got to do somethin’!” His eye caught Emmeline’s discarded coat, lying like a wounded animal on the ice. Her rope! he thought desperately. Get the rope! He slithered over to the coat and started to rummage in its pockets. He touched the cold metal of Emmeline’s tin cup and then something indescribably soft and warm. Confused, he grabbed at it and pulled it out.

  He held it up in front of his eyes, barely daring to breathe.

  It was as if he had a star trapped in his fingers. The fur—if that’s what it was—glowed with a pure brightness, and something in it made Thing’s breathing slow and his heart stop thundering. Without really knowing why, he opened his fingers and let the shining strands of hair float away on the breeze like dandelion seeds, disappearing into the gloom.

  “What are you doing?” shouted Edgar, reholstering his gun. But before he could shrug out of his coat, the soft darkness all around them came to life. Huge silver-gray animals—They’re like bears, Thing thought, except not really at all—came lumbering out of the silent shadows toward them. A sound like distant whispering filled the air, rich with half-formed words that
seemed strangely familiar. Each creature had a pelt made of the same shining stuff as the fur Thing had just pulled out of Emmeline’s pocket. The creatures loped straight past him and Edgar and dived headfirst into the pool, disappearing beneath the surface without causing so much as a ripple.

  “What—what?” Edgar’s breath caught in his throat. “What were they?”

  “You’re askin’ me?” said Thing, his head spinning. For a few breathless seconds they stood by the side of the pool. Behind them Watt and Madame Blancheflour watched, their eyes full of despairing hope.

  And then—with a burst of water and gasping that made Edgar and Thing recoil from the pool’s edge—one of the creatures slid itself onto the icy shore with Sasha wrapped in its arms. Less than a second later another creature followed, this one carrying Emmeline, limp and unconscious. And, finally, three more emerged a few feet away, carrying between them a finely wrought cage with two slumped people at the bottom of it. Thing knew without needing to be told that these were Emmeline’s parents, and the pain in his chest grew too heavy to bear, because it seemed clear to him that they were—that they had to be—dead.

  The next few moments passed in a blur for Thing. He felt hands helping him to drag Emmeline clear of the water and get her wrapped up in her fur coat, and he was firmly shoved to one side while someone—Thing didn’t know who—breathed into Emmeline’s mouth and made her cough up all the dark water she’d swallowed. He saw Edgar take Sasha in his arms and run with her toward the wreckage of the downed dirigible, the only source of heat anywhere on the ice. He was aware of some of the others going to free Emmeline’s parents from the cage. Somewhere there were shouts and shrill noises, and the distant rattle of gunfire, but he didn’t have space in his head to care about any of it.

  Once the strange gray creatures had ensured everyone was out of the water, they began to climb toward the mirrors, swinging up through the struts like a destructive wind. A loud crack overhead, followed by a sputtering of the intense green light, let Thing know that they were destroying Bauer’s structure, bit by bit. There was movement everywhere—people running, people shouting, orders being given.

  But all he cared about was Emmeline’s bone-white face.

  He dropped to his knees beside her once again, and someone lifted her into his arms.

  “Come on, Ems,” he said, the cold water from her hair trickling over his skin. “Come on.” She didn’t move. Her eyes were sealed tightly shut. Thing stroked some stray strands off her forehead and shook her gently, hoping she’d slap him or something. A shout came from behind him, and he turned to look.

  “We’ve got to move! Everyone, now!” Edgar’s voice was huge, even from thirty feet away. “Get away from the water!” For a second Thing wondered why. Then he felt hands grabbing him all over and lifting Emmeline off his lap. In the next moment he was running, and all around him the ice was breaking, smashing into shards right beneath his feet.

  A noise bigger than anything he’d ever imagined pushed him forward in a seismic wave. It wasn’t a roar, or a shout, or a bellow—it was all three, and more. Deep within it was a sound like every window on earth shattering at once, and the screaming wail of metal being bent to its snapping point.

  Thing skidded to a halt in the shadow of the wrecked White Flower dirigible, which was still faintly burning. He felt a strong, familiar hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Edgar there, his eyes keenly trained on the pool.

  The pool, which was more like a fountain now.

  Sudden as a scream, the murky water exploded upward like a terrible geyser. Thing watched, his mouth hanging open, as a pointed head, its color somewhere between black and blood, began to rise from the water—and kept coming. Eventually an eye bigger than a Ferris wheel came into view, huge and round and threaded with red. The sight of it made Thing’s breath taste like metal. The Kraken’s baleful pupil glared at them all, moving from face to face as if searching for something. Then the Creature turned, water sluicing off its skin, and its massive, shining beak filled Thing’s mind. It was as dark as a nightmare and big enough to swallow a four-story house with room to spare. The most blood-chilling cry he’d ever heard was coming from it.

  A single tentacle, as thick as a railway car, burst its way up through the ice then, swooping through the air toward them. Every inch of it was covered with sharp suckers, like giant, cruel mouths full of snapping teeth.

  “Get back!” called Edgar. Thing scrabbled across the ice to where Emmeline was lying. She was still pale, her skin cold to the touch. He grabbed her, trying to drag her away, as another tentacle ripped itself free of the ice and reached toward them. Thing watched as a third broke through, and then a fourth. Very soon the Kraken would pull itself up out of the pool, and when that happened, there would be nothing anyone could do.

  An unexpected noise made him turn back to Emmeline. To his astonishment, he saw a huge horse—white-coated, red-maned, its chest and front legs spattered in what looked to be blood from a nasty gash to its neck. The horse was bent over Emmeline, whinnying softly. It nudged her face, huffing out a hot breath, and shook its mane, and as it did, Thing’s mind immediately filled with butterflies and sunshine, peaceful summer days and birdsong. He felt warm to his toes.

  “Meadowmane,” he breathed, reaching out a hand to stroke the horse’s neck, being careful of the wound. “This has to be you.” Emmeline’s hand, which he’d been holding tightly in his own, flexed slightly, and he looked down. Her eyes moved around behind her lids, and her lips parted just a little. Meadowmane whickered again, and she stirred further.

  All around them people were screaming. Sasha was conscious, but she wasn’t strong enough to move. Edgar had her wrapped tightly in his arms, and they were weeping together, his face in her hair. Madame Blancheflour was crying too, a single tear rolling down her soft old cheek. Before them the Kraken roared, its might turning all their bones to jelly. Thing looked from face to face, the despair in his heart flaring into rage. We have to do somethin’! he shouted inside his head. We can’t jus’ sit ’ere, like a picnic! He opened his mouth and drew a deep breath, ready to yell.

  Then he felt something hard strike him across the back of the head. Sharp, sudden pain exploded behind his eyes, and he fell to the ground.

  “It’s not too late,” he heard a voice mutter as he fought to stay conscious. Meadowmane shrieked, rearing onto his back legs to aim a kick, his wound ripping open once more.

  “It’s not too late!” Thing heard again, the words hissed and scratching. What’s not too late? he thought, dazed. He tried to sit up. Through blurred eyes he saw a bent, huddled shape making off with a bundle, wrapped in a coat. A fur coat—Emmeline’s coat!

  “Hey! Oi!” he shouted, wincing. “Help! It’s Bauer! He’s got Ems!” Madame Blancheflour jerked and spun on the spot, her eyes searching. Her small body tensed like a hunting hound, and she pointed into the darkness.

  “There he is! Vite!”

  Thing scrambled up off the ground. Vaguely he was aware of people peeling away and following Bauer across the ice, but nobody seemed to know exactly which way he’d gone. The shadows had swallowed him.

  Thing tried to take a step but staggered. He pressed his fingers against the back of his aching head, and when he brought his hand away, it was bloody.

  “Help!” came a faint cry. “Thing!” He shoved himself up and turned, following Emmeline’s voice. He blinked and there was Bauer, Emmeline in his arms like a gift—or, Thing realized with a sickening roll, an offering. Bauer was running toward the Kraken like a man with the law on his tail, and Thing struck out after him, his head throbbing with every step. He tried not to think about the huge tentacles all around, ready to pick him up and drop him into that terrible beaked maw like a plump grape or a piece of cheese.

  “Thing! Wait!” Edgar’s voice carried, but Thing didn’t stop. His feet slid in the snow, but he kept going. He was gaining slowly.

  “Put! Her! Down!” he shouted. He was reaching top
speed, his muscles singing, when he realized something strange—his strength was growing with every step. I still ain’t whoopin’, he thought as his legs pounded. I can breathe! All he could hear, despite his fear for Emmeline, were his own thoughts. Of his father, there was no trace. He let out a whoop, this time of triumph, and picked up his heels.

  Bauer and Emmeline were almost back at the pool. The ice around it heaved and strained as the Kraken shifted, another tentacle just about to wrench itself free. If it touches her…Bauer’s crazed laughter reached Thing, and he growled, running faster still, ready to kick, to punch, to kill, if it meant saving Emmeline from the Kraken’s jaws.

  “Hey! Hyup! Hup!” A sudden jingling shattered the air between them. Bauer’s step faltered as he looked to his right, a confused frown on his face.

  “What the—” he had time to say, just before a leather strap weighted at both ends with heavy rocks came flinging through the air. The strap wrapped itself round his legs, bringing him to the ground with a crunch, and Emmeline flew from his grip, landing on the ice like a sack of laundry. Bauer lay in a heap, howling, while Thing—a wild, buoyant feeling in his chest—turned to see Balto, his tongue hanging out, come galloping toward him.

  “That’s enough out of you, you warbling walrus,” Igimaq shouted at the roaring Bauer, pulling his sled alongside Emmeline’s crumpled form. He gently lifted her in and nestled her beside him as carefully as he could.

  “Igimaq!” gasped Thing as he drew near. “Am I glad to see you!”

  “Didn’t think I’d gotten bored and gone home, did you?” He grinned. “Hurry—hop on.” Thing jumped up on a sled runner and they raced back to the others, leaving Bauer far behind. Meadowmane made straight for Emmeline as soon as Igimaq pulled up, and Thing watched his friend’s eyes grow round as saucers as the horse nudged and whickered at her, warming her with his breath.

  “An Æsirsmount? What sort of girl is our Emmeline, hey?” Igimaq sounded half-strangled.

  “A what-a-what?” said Thing.