Flint thought of the inventions he had packed into his rucksack: his Camouflage Cape, made from the fur of snow hares, then washed in a casket of sunbeams. And his bone-handled Anything Knife, with a turquoise river gem slotted into the handle.
But these inventions had been made to help Flint slip through the passageways unseen, not to fight the Ice Queen, and with an aching heart he realised his rescue mission now lay in tatters at his feet. He raced back towards the arches. Panes of black ice were sliding across them, closing the hall in, window by window. The palace darkened as the moonlight was shut out, but Flint sped on towards the three arches still left open and, grabbing the key from the music box, Eska stumbled after him.
‘You are not coming with us!’ Flint cried as he hoisted himself into the biggest arch and hauled the rope from his rucksack. ‘You’ve already ruined my chances of freeing my ma!’
The footsteps beyond the hall grew louder and the flames began to hiss. Flint flung his barbed rope into the wall then glanced towards the tundra. The guards didn’t seem to be out there any longer – perhaps they were inside the palace now, having summoned the Ice Queen about the strange whistle sounding over the ice – and Flint knew that he only had a few seconds to make this escape work. The black ice burst out from the side of the arch and Flint gripped the rope and began to abseil down the palace wall.
But Eska wasn’t giving up. She clambered on to the arch in the nick of time, her body juddering from the cold, and Flint watched, aghast, as she grabbed hold of the rope above him as the last of the windows sealed shut behind her.
Flint slipped to the ground, barely using his mittens or his boots to grip the rope this time, and, moments later, Eska clattered down after him, her hands and feet raw from the rope. Then there was an almighty crash as the largest pane of black glass smashed apart.
Flint dragged Eska beneath the bridge. He couldn’t leave her now – she’d only give his presence away – and yet his mission was careering sideways. He hauled a bundle of clothes from his rucksack: a pair of sealskin boots and mittens and a parka and trousers made from grizzly-bear furs, and tossed them to Eska.
‘They were for my ma,’ he growled. ‘But you’ll need them if we’re going to make it out of this alive.’ He drew out a large and very soft white blanket next. The Camouflage Cape. ‘I didn’t need this on the way here because no one knew I was coming, but now thanks to you . . .’ He shook his head. ‘We need to run – fast – beneath the cliffs and if we stay under this cape we’ve a chance of making it unseen.’
Flint jumped as a high-pitched cry pierced the night.
‘Eskaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!’
The voice was sharp and shrill and it swarmed over the Driftlands. Flint slid a look up to the palace to see a woman standing in the tallest arch, a crown of snowflakes glinting on her head. His insides clenched. The Ice Queen’s teardrop gown fluttered in the wind and beside the staff she held sat a wolverine, its dark fur a stain against the ice.
Flint turned to Eska, tucking her beneath the Camouflage Cape with him. ‘Run,’ he whispered. ‘Now.’
And, with the sound of the Tusk guards marching out across the bridge and the Ice Queen’s screech echoing across the kingdom, the two children darted out.
They kept to the cliffs, their boots pounding against the ice, their breath pent up inside them, and, though Eska was unstable on her feet, Flint propped her up and they ran on towards the cavern where the huskies waited.
Flint yanked Eska inside the opening in the cliff and the dogs clustered round them, warm and loyal and ready for the homeward journey.
Eska leant against the wall. ‘Free from Winterfang,’ she panted in disbelief. ‘Free at last . . .’ The Ice Queen’s voice tore across the ice again and Eska edged further inside the cavern.
‘Stand on the metal brake between the runners while I attach the dogs,’ Flint muttered. ‘I don’t want them whisking the sled away before we’re ready to go.’
Eska hurried over and pressed down with her boot, but, after the Ice Queen’s enchantment, her body was no match for the spirited dogs. The brake flung up, the sled jerked forward and Eska stumbled over. But Flint was on it in a second, slamming a hand on to the side of the sled until it stopped.
Eska picked herself up and wedged a foot down over the metal again, as hard as she could. ‘That cape,’ she whispered, nervously placing her other boot on to the brake to stop it edging forward, ‘we never would have escaped without it. And it was made using magic, wasn’t it? That’s the reason we got away . . .’
For a second, Flint’s shoulders squared with pride – it was the first time anyone had congratulated him on an invention or even been vaguely interested in Erkenwald’s magic since the Tusk Chief’s death – but then he remembered himself and scowled.
‘Shut up and listen to me.’
He stamped his boot over Eska’s so that it sank deep into the snow and the sled held firm.
‘The cavern widens into a tunnel and when it comes up on the tundra we’ll be a safe distance away from the palace. The guards might see the huskies, but if we and the sled are tucked under the cape they’ll just look like a pack of wolves running from that distance, and, with any luck, we’ll make it to Deeproots without being tailed.’
Eska nodded.
‘We must be quick though – we need to get as far as we can while the night hides us.’
Eska nodded again then, avoiding Flint’s eyes, she whispered, ‘What’s Deeproots?’
‘What’s Deeproots?’ Flint scoffed as he untangled the ropes that tied the dogs to his sled. ‘Only the biggest forest in the kingdom and home to the legendary Fur Tribe. Everyone in Erkenwald knows that.’
‘Everyone except me,’ Eska mumbled. A spot of colour had returned to her cheeks, but the clothes she wore swamped her body and she looked pitifully frail inside them. ‘Will I be safe with your tribe?’
Flint looked up. ‘You can’t just wander in and join our tribe! There are rules, you know.’
‘But . . .’ Eska’s voice trailed off. ‘I’d be an extra pair of hands about the place. I’d help.’
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ Flint said. ‘You have to be one of us from the start.’ He tossed his rucksack on to the fur-lined sled. ‘Once we’re in Deeproots, you’re on your own. I don’t know who you are, what tribe you’re from or why the Ice Queen thinks your voice is so important, but I just missed my chance of freeing my ma because of you. The only reason I’m not leaving you here is because I don’t trust you not to blab about my whereabouts to the Ice Queen.’
Pebble yapped from Flint’s hood.
‘And because Pebble is playing up.’
Pebble growled.
Flint sighed. ‘And I suppose because you might know things that could help us fight the Ice Queen.’
Satisfied now, Pebble settled into Flint’s hood.
Flint shoved Eska off the brake, pushed his own foot down on it and glowered at the ball of white fur curled up in his hood. ‘I blame you entirely for this detour, Pebble. You’re going to have some serious explaining to do when we see Tomkin.’
Pebble pretended to snore and Flint rolled his eyes, but, when the wolverine’s growl juddered across the sea outside, he pointed to the sled.
‘Sit down on the furs in front.’ Flint lifted the Camouflage Cape over his shoulders. ‘And hold the end of the cape up a little so that I can see out ahead of us.’ He paused. ‘But don’t expect any conversations. It’s hard to steer a sled, be cross and talk all at the same time.’
‘Can – can I just ask your name?’ Eska stammered.
Flint scowled. ‘Why do you need it?’
Eska blinked. ‘In case we do decide to have more conversations.’
‘It’s Flint.’ There was a pause. ‘And we won’t be having any more conversations for a while.’
Eska nodded meekly, then Flint lifted his foot from the brake and, as the dogs hastened into the tunnel, the wolverine’s growl petered out into silence.
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They emerged from the tunnel and, when Eska eventually plucked up the courage to peek out from the cape and glance over her shoulder, she saw the dark shapes of the Tusk guards spreading out over the Driftlands in the opposite direction. Relief rinsed through her and, as she slipped back beneath the blanket, she felt her pulse unwind. With every stride the dogs took, she was moving further and further away from the woman who had held her captive for so long.
The wooden sled creaked as it rushed over the ice and the cold air funnelling through the cape stiffened the muscles in Eska’s face, but, for the first time since being locked inside the Ice Queen’s music box, Eska smiled. Because she had escaped – finally – and the landscape she had watched in silence for so long was now alive all around her. Her heart fluttered at the freedom of it all and she wiggled her hands in front of her chest.
‘What are you doing?’ Flint hissed.
Eska did a little circle with her elbow. ‘Getting used to my body again.’
‘Well, don’t,’ Flint spat. ‘It’s distracting. Sit still.’
Eska stared ahead for a few minutes and tried her best not to be annoying. Then, very quietly, she began tracing her fingers over her arms and legs for a mark from the Sky Gods that might show she was cursed. But she found nothing and so she went back to very subtly circling her elbows instead.
‘Snow clouds are gathering,’ Flint whispered to himself. ‘Our tracks will be covered by morning.’
Eska stole a look at the night sky and as she watched the darkness closing in she tried to work out whether Flint’s words were an opening to a conversation or not. She had no reason to trust him – after all, he hadn’t planned to rescue her: it had just sort of happened. But, without Flint, she’d still be trapped inside Winterfang, and though she didn’t want to irritate him she was longing to talk to someone after so many months of silence. She had to know more about the Fur and Feather Tribe children. Where were they hiding? Might they bend their rules and offer her shelter and protection? Could she team up with them to fight back against the Ice Queen? And, her deepest desire of all, would they know who she really was?
She tucked the music-box key into her pocket, hoping that now she had it the Ice Queen would not be able to use the music box again. For her or anybody else.
‘Tell me about those in hiding from the Ice Queen,’ Eska said quietly.
‘That sounds dangerously like a conversation to me,’ Flint replied, urging his dogs on.
There were no fences or roads on the Driftlands, at least none that Eska could see beyond the gap in the cape, and the moonlight was almost completely swallowed by the clouds now, but it seemed Flint knew this wide and lonely landscape – somehow its shapes and rhythms were locked in his skull – and he swerved the sled through a scattering of trees, then down a shallow bank until it skidded out on to a frozen river coated in snow.
‘Please tell me,’ Eska whispered. ‘Because, if you’re planning to leave me, I’ll need more information than I have now to survive.’
‘Why does the Ice Queen think your voice is so important?’ Flint muttered. ‘It’s not like other voices – I’ll give you that – but it’s feeble all the same. And you don’t even know anything.’
Eska was almost afraid of the answer, of the darkness that the Ice Queen said her voice was capable of, but she had the boy’s attention now and she wanted to keep it.
‘The Ice Queen is feeding on her prisoners’ voices.’ Eska watched the river race beneath the dogs’ paws. ‘And, if she can swallow every voice in Erkenwald before the midnight sun rises, she’ll become immortal and will rule this kingdom for ever.’
Eska heard the squeak of mittens tightening round the wooden bar behind her, but when Flint spoke his voice betrayed no emotion. ‘What’s that got to do with you? Why is your voice any more important than her other prisoners’?’
Eska took a deep breath. ‘The Ice Queen told me that the Sky Gods placed a curse on my voice to make it capable of terrible things. She promised to help me – she said she would take away my cursed voice and use it to summon the outlawed tribes, then tear down the Sky Gods so that they could never harm Erkenwald again.’
Flint didn’t reply, and as Eska listened to the near-silent sound of snow pattering against the cape she wondered what he was thinking. Could he sense the shame in her voice at the idea that she might be cursed? Was he planning to tip her off the sled and leave her for dead because of it?
The silence was broken by a snigger. ‘No one believes in the Sky Gods or their magic any more . . . Not after the northern lights stopped and—’
Eska saw her chance. ‘But you still believe – in their magic at least.’ She paused. ‘Back at the palace I saw a lot of dark magic, but what if there’s another kind of magic out there? One that could be used for good? One that could be harnessed to make secret capes?’ She bit her lip. ‘Because that’s what you did, didn’t you? You used magic to outwit the Ice Queen.’
Flint shifted behind her.
‘I can’t remember anything about my past,’ Eska went on. ‘The Ice Queen stole my memories. But I get feelings about things – deep in my gut – and somehow I never believed her when she blamed the Gods for the tribes hating each other. I reckon that was her doing.’ She paused. ‘I think the Sky Gods are still up there and their magic might be something we can trust, after all.’
Although Flint said nothing, Eska could feel his thoughts whirring close to hers. Theirs was a kingdom that had given up on magic and yet here on this sled were two people who believed in its power, even if one was too proud to admit it.
‘If the Ice Queen lied about the Sky Gods,’ Eska said, ‘then maybe she lied about my voice, too. Not about it being important – otherwise she wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to steal it – but what if it’s not cursed? What if I could use my voice for good?’ Her words were gathering pace now. ‘I didn’t give in to the Ice Queen because I thought that perhaps, if I escaped, I could somehow use my voice – and a little bit of magic – to fight back against her and to free all those prisoners.’
Flint snorted. ‘I’ve heard powerful voices before – warrior battle cries and chief’s speeches – but yours? It’s odd and unlikely. There’s no way it could destroy the Ice Queen.’ He paused. ‘And, as for using magic, good luck convincing an entire kingdom that it’s something they should believe in again.’
Eska found herself looking at the Camouflage Cape. If she knew one thing about magic from her time in Winterfang, it was that it was an unpredictable sort of business that required a good deal of faith to get it going in the first place.
‘Not all brilliant ideas start off ordinary and likely,’ she said.
Flint drove on without speaking, but Eska could sense by his silence that her words had hit home and she let the quiet linger for a while before pressing Flint in a different direction. ‘I pieced together bits about the kingdom’s landscape from eavesdropping on the Tusk guards, but what about the children in hiding? Tell me about them.’
‘Fine,’ Flint replied after a while. ‘But only because I can’t drive the rest of this journey with Pebble biting me on the ear until I’ve answered your questions.’ The fox pup leapt down on to the sled and busied himself between Eska’s ankles. ‘The Feather Tribe are somewhere in the Never Cliffs,’ Flint began, ‘though I’ve not seen them since before the battle last summer. We used to share food around campfires if we crossed paths on hunting trips and once a Feather boy lent me a quiver of arrows when my own was swept downriver, but everything changed when the Tusk Chief was murdered.’ He paused. ‘We don’t speak to the Feather Tribe now – and certainly not to the Tusks. Outlaws keep to their own kind.’
Eska frowned. ‘Then how do you learn new things?’
‘We’ve learnt them already,’ Flint snapped.
‘But if the Feather and Fur Tribes turn their backs on each other then you can’t swap ideas or make plans together to free the Ice Queen’s prisoners.’
Flint b
ristled. ‘The Fur Tribe have made plans. Lots of them. Just not with the Feathers. They can’t be trusted.’
Eska watched the dark speed by. The kingdom she had been longing to explore from the music box was nothing like the place she found herself in now. She had been hoping for friends and answers, but here was discord and secrets. It was a bleaker, colder world than the one she had imagined and she hugged her coat tighter around her.
‘And your parents,’ Eska asked. ‘Do you believe they’re trapped in the ice towers at Winterfang?’
Flint’s voice seemed tighter suddenly. ‘I know my ma is because every morning I hear her voice trail out over Erkenwald. But my pa . . .’ His words faltered. ‘He was the Chief of the Fur Tribe – the best warrior we’ve ever seen – but the Ice Queen used dark magic to fight him and he died on the ice during the battle last summer.’ Flint fell silent and Pebble scrambled up towards him and pawed at his neck. ‘My brother, Tomkin, is Chief now.’
Eska nodded. ‘And what will he say when you return without your ma?’
Flint pulled off the Camouflage Cape and tossed it on to Eska’s lap. The snow-filled night surrounded them and Eska could make out the dark outlines of trees either side of the river now and, further downstream, a waterfall shrouded in ice.
Flint stared straight ahead. ‘He doesn’t know I left.’
And even Eska could tell that the conversation had come to an end then.
The dogs ran on and on and as the hours slipped by Eska felt her eyes begin to close. A sharp nudge from behind jolted her awake.
‘Keep your eyes open,’ Flint muttered. ‘Close them in this cold and they’ll freeze shut.’
Eska looked ahead to where the river widened, then turned left. Nestled inside the bend there was a small wooden hut surrounded by trees. The larch trunks it had been made from were shelved with snow, but Eska could make out a door and Flint guided his dogs on to the riverbank and pulled them to a stop before it.
‘Stand on the brake,’ he ordered Eska. ‘Properly this time.’
Sky Song Page 3