Blue Fire and Ice

by Alan Skinner

  Brian found the afternoon trek easier than the morning’s. For some reason, Crimson had slowed. She had talked occasionally when they had first set out, but since they had stopped to eat she had been silent. Casting surreptitious glances at her, Brian could see the tension in her face and a strained look in her eyes. She seemed to be focusing all her efforts on fighting something. Until the incident at Farrow’s farm, Brian had though Crimson very un-Muddle-like. She seemed steadier, with more common sense than he expected from Muddles. Since the farm, he still saw her as different, but now he felt uneasy about the difference.

  He put his hand into his pocket and took out his compass. The quivering needle had swung slightly from the last time he looked. Now it pointed slightly west of north. They’d have to turn east or they would be heading away from their destination.

  ‘Crimson, I think we need to turn eastward.’

  Crimson didn’t respond. She kept on her course, eyes fixed dead ahead.

  ‘Crimson!’ This time Brian’s voice was louder and sharper. Crimson turned to Brian, but her eyes looked straight through him.

  Crimson was aware that someone spoke her name but she couldn’t find the source of the voice. It had been calling her all day and it took all her strength and concentration to keep walking and not give in to the urge to wander in search of the voice calling to her. At the same time, the terrible weariness was still with her and she could feel the strength draining from her limbs. And again the voice called. This time it seemed close, more substantial. She concentrated all her will on blocking it out. It called to her again, close now and familiar.

  It took her a moment to realise that it was Brian who had called her name. Relief rushed through her. Brian saw her eyes relax and the strain leave her face. For the first time that day, Crimson smiled.

  ‘Brian …’ He could hear the relief in her voice. ‘Yes, Brian?’

  ‘Ah … umm … I think we should stop and talk to the others. We’re heading in the wrong direction.’

  ‘Whatever you think is best, Brian.’

  That was definitely not like Crimson, he thought.

  The travellers stopped, taking the opportunity to drink some water and sit. They sat in a circle as Brian showed them the compass.

  ‘Do you have that map you drew, Grunge?’ asked Aunt Mag.

  Grunge took the map from his pack and spread it open on the ground in front of them. It was a very simple sketch he had made based on the map from the library.

  ‘We left the river about here.’ He pointed to a spot not far from Bourne Bridge. ‘I think we should be about here.’ He pointed to another spot slightly north-east of where they had left the river. ‘The snowfield with the blue ice is over here.’ If the travellers had been standing in the centre of a clock, the snowfield would be between one and two o’clock. ‘From Bourne Bridge to the snowfield is about fifty kilometres, I think.’

  ‘We’ve already done about fifteen or so today and there’s still about three hours of daylight left. We should do more than eighteen today. We’ll make it in less than three days,’ said Brian.

  Copper grimaced. ‘I think this is the easy part, Brian. We might do eighteen today and maybe even eighteen tomorrow. But I have the feeling that the closer we get to the snowfield, the slower it will be. Particularly with the sledge. Girth said four days, but they didn’t have the sledge.’

  Miniver gave a gruff growl. It didn’t take a Muddle to understand what she was saying.

  ‘Yes, Miniver, I know they didn’t have you, either,’ laughed Copper.

  Aunt Mag studied the map and looked at her companions. ‘And now Brian says we’re headed westward. It was fine following the easy ground when we had to go north, but I think we should leave that path and head east. We might not be able to further on.’

  Crimson nodded and for the first time that day she gave her opinion. ‘I think Aunt Mag is right. We should continue on and look for a place to strike east. If we don’t find a good path in half an hour, we turn east anyway.’ Crimson faced Miniver. ‘Miniver?’

  Miniver tossed her great head and uttered a long growl. ‘Don’t worry about me. At least I’m using four legs. If east is where we need to go I don’t see the sense in not going that way.’

  ‘Thank you, Miniver,’ said Crimson.

  ‘But maybe this is a trail,’ argued Grunge. ‘Maybe this is the way that Girth went. Perhaps it swings east further on.’

  ‘There’s sense in that,’ said Copper.

  Brian remembered Sticks back at the Common. ‘Are you standing and saying again, Grunge?’

  Crimson and Grunge shot Brian a surprised look. Grunge’s wry smile was his only answer.

  ‘Dot, everyone else here has had their say. What do you think?’

  Dot was startled by Aunt Mag’s question. She was just a young girl. Why would her opinion matter?

  ‘I – I …’ She stopped, unsure of herself. Timidly, she looked at the faces of her companions. Like back at the bus, when Miniver appeared, she couldn’t see any mockery or any of the others dismissing her because she was just a young girl, but she just didn’t have enough faith in herself to believe what she saw. ‘Whatever,’ was all she said and she retreated behind Miniver.

  Aunt Mag gave a little sigh. ‘Well, I vote we do as Crimson suggests.’

  It was unanimous.

  They shouldered their packs and were about to move on when Copper spoke.

  ‘Look, I didn’t want to say anything, because I thought it was just my imagination. But ever since we entered the High Mountains, I’ve had the strangest feeling.’ He stopped, trying to find the right words. ‘It’s hard to describe, but … it’s like a weight on me. There’s something oppressive here.’

  The others looked at Copper. There was a pause.

  ‘Actually, Copper, now that you mention it, I’ve been feeling something pretty much the same,’ Brian admitted.

  ‘And me,’ said Aunt Mag. ‘But I thought it was my foolishness.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Dot. ‘You know, I’m pretty much always feeling…’ She didn’t finish.

  Miniver gave a long, low growl. ‘There is something else here. It doesn’t threaten me. It’s just here.’

  Grunge nodded at the bear. ‘I agree. There is something here. It’s not … not oppressive, though. More like something is always near. It’s like there’s someone walking next to me I can’t see.’

  Crimson remained mute. They looked at her, waiting. Finally, she spoke, her voice weary and lacking spirit.

  ‘I feel as Grunge and Miniver do. But I feel something else. Something constantly in my head. It doesn’t say anything, but it … it calls to me. At times it would shut out everything else if I didn’t fight it. Constantly.’

  The companions looked at the snow-capped peaks ahead. There was more than they had dreamed of in the High Mountains.

  They went on. And the further they went, the more it became obvious that the ground they followed was a rift in the mountain. On either side of them, the ground rose steeply. It would be hard going if they had to climb the hills to the east.

  ‘That’s a troubled young girl. What possessed you to bring her?’

  Aunt Mag was walking beside Copper. She knew she wasn’t being tactful but she was used to speaking her mind.

  Copper raised his eyebrows at the question. He didn’t take offence. He was just surprised at Aunt Mag’s bluntness.

  ‘She’s the best apprentice I’ve ever had. She’s a natural engineer. And she’s tough and she doesn’t give up.’

  ‘Seems to me she just did,’ said Aunt Mag.

  ‘You’re right,’ conceded Copper. ‘But I was talking about her abilities.’

  ‘Is that what she is to you, Copper? Someone useful?’

  ‘No.’ Copper didn’t speak for a minute. ‘No, that’s not all she is. But I don’t think it’s right to discuss her feelings behind her back, either. Her work is out there for everyone to see, so anything to do with that is OK to talk
about. Her feelings …’ Copper took a deep breath. ‘Her feelings belong to her. They’re not mine to talk about.’

  ‘You’re right. Forgive me, Copper. I’m used to speaking my mind and having my way where young ones are concerned. And though she’s nearly a young woman, she’s a child inside. I’m worried about her, that’s all.’

  ‘No need to apologise, Aunt Mag. Why don’t you talk to her? She might tell you what troubles her.’

  ‘Perhaps I will, though I think she’s already found someone to talk to.’

  They glanced back at the young apprentice. Dot was walking next to Miniver, holding onto her harness, and they could hear the steady murmur of her voice.

  Brian checked his watch. The half-hour they’d agreed was up and they hadn’t found a place to turn eastward. They would have to attempt the steep hills next to them. He came to a halt and once again the companions came together. By now, the mountain on either side was considerably higher and steeper than it had been when they stopped for their midday meal. Their trail had gradually become a deep ravine. From where they stood it was four or five hundred metres to the top of the eastern cliff. For most of the way they would have to scramble using their hands and feet. The ground, at least, was solid; grass and rock embedded in the soil all the way to the top. Miniver would be able to get some purchase with strong, sharp claws.

  The sun was very low behind them by the time they finally made it to the top. It had been a hard climb and all were tired and most had small cuts on their hands and knees from the sharp rocks. Even Miniver was exhausted. She pulled the sledge over the lip of the cliff and lay prone on the rocky ground.

  ‘We’d better find a place to camp for the night,’ said Grunge after a few minutes. Slowly, they stood and looked around. They had reached a small plateau that spread eastward, then rose and merged with the mountain about a kilometre away. Grunge could see the light reflecting from the water of a small stream trickling down the rocks on the distant slope.

  Crimson had also spotted the stream. ‘There,’ she pointed. ‘There’s water and the shelter of the mountain.’

  Wearily they rose and made their way to the other side of the plateau. The ground was flat and had a thin layer of grass covering the hard surface. They could make out the cliff top a couple of hundred metres above them. The cliff face was sheer rock, rising straight up from the plateau. It would be impossible to scale.

  ‘Let’s worry about it tomorrow,’ said Aunt Mag. ‘We can’t do anything about it now and we need to make camp before it gets too dark to see.’

  They made their camp at the base of the cliff. Copper and Dot assembled the tent they had brought. Crimson, Brian and Miniver collected wood and made a fire within a circle of stones, while Grunge and Aunt Mag took the food from the packs and prepared their simple meal.

  The moon, a glowing ivory disc in the night sky, gave them light while they ate. Grunge made coffee and they sat around the fire, metal mugs of hot coffee in their hands. It was a perfect, peaceful time in their cosy camp and the difficulties of the climb were banished from their thoughts, though the weariness of their limbs was harder to forget. They put from their minds the problem of the cliff rising in the dark above them and put in its place the comfort of the day’s achievement. The conversation was light and pleasant and the evening passed in companionable chatter.

  It was Copper who surprised them all, including Dot, by relating a tale he had heard as a child. He told them of a time long ago, almost too long ago for the memory of the people of the Land. It was a tale told to him by his father when he was less than half Dot’s age, a tale of a young blacksmith. She had not seen nineteen summers and yet she was already known as the best blacksmith in the Land. She made the ploughs and the hoes for all the people within a seven-day ride and other blacksmiths moved to far-off villages so they wouldn’t be idle.

  She could fashion anything from metal, coaxing it with fire and hammer until it revealed all its secrets and ways to her and she could make from the metal whatever she wished. Her name was Amandine and she was as beautiful as her name. Amandine had large dark eyes, hair as red as the fire in her forge and satin skin the colour of honey.

  Amandine fell in love with a brave young man who roamed far and wide to fight the fierce dragon-like creatures that plagued the Land. The creatures killed all living creatures, people and animals alike, as the whim took them. Their fire scorched the earth black and seeped into the Land itself, burning it from within. Some believed the beasts had fallen from another world; others believed that they were the pets of a sorcerer who had loosed them on the Land out of spite because the people of the Land were happy and that was the one thing the sorcerer could never feel; and there were those who said the beasts were of the Land, sleeping deep within it and woken when the people started digging for the riches they discovered lay within it. There was no explanation so fanciful or silly that someone could not believe in it. The only thing the young man knew was that when he killed one, none took its place and if he hunted for long enough, he would rid the Land of their foul presence.

  His name was Harvand. He had come to ask Amandine to make him a sword that would enter even the toughest hide of the fiercest creature and be able to slice through the beast’s neck in a single blow. Amandine refused Harvand’s request. She had sworn she would make neither sword nor spear, nor any other thing to bring hurt and death to any living creature. Harvand pressed her to make him the weapon and, though she loved him, she would not be swayed. Amandine pleaded with Harvand to put an end to killing the beasts and settle down in the village. Harvand kissed her and swore he wanted nothing more than to give up chasing the beasts and to settle with Amandine.

  ‘Just help me kill this last creature. Once I have slain the beast I will put up my sword and you shall teach me how to be a blacksmith.’

  Harvand pressed her so hard that she finally agreed to make his sword. For eight days she worked at her forge until she had made the finest sword in all the land. When she gave it to Harvand his eyes shone and he laughed with the joy of holding his fine weapon. Again he kissed Amandine. Then, his eyes shining, he sprang into his saddle and went to find the beast.

  Not many days after, he had found the den of one of the beasts. Outside the entrance to its lair, he tied a poor, frightened young goat. Then he hid behind a large rock and waited. In readiness, he drew his sword and marvelled at how brightly it shone in the midday sun. And Harvand, the hunter of beasts, the one love of Amandine’s pure heart, waited.

  The terrified cries of the goat ended his sleep. Leaping to his feet, he sprung onto the rock. The great beast was before him, its huge jaws open, ready to grab the helpless goat.

  ‘Beast!’ Harvand cried. ‘Come here, beast, and I will close your jaws forever!’

  The creature’s roar was terrible. The trees shook and the rock on which Harvand stood trembled. The mighty head, with fearsome teeth almost as long as Harvand’s sword, turned to the brave young man. Though fear knotted his stomach, Harvand’s heart was true and he leapt from the rock to kill the beast.

  The rushing wind from a single flap of the beast’s great wings nearly knocked Harvand from his feet. He staggered, and the beast struck at him. Just in time, Harvand rolled to his right. The great teeth bit the air where he had stood. Harvand regained his feet and, before the beast could turn, his sword flashed and its gleaming point hit the creature.

  It was a deadly thrust, aimed at the beast’s heart. Harvand felt the tip bite, piercing its scaly skin. With both hands on the hilt, he sought the heart. The blade stopped. Amandine’s sword was as true as her love but Harvand’s aim was not true and the tip of the weapon found the beast’s breastbone, as hard as rock.

  The beast roared again, a fearsome roar that rolled through the valley, an avalanche of pain and anger. The furious creature slashed at Harvand with its great claws. Just in time, Harvand ducked beneath the razor talons. Desperately, he wrenched his sword free and whirled to the right. The beast lunged, seeki
ng to rend Harvand’s head from his body with its bloody and decay-stained teeth. Harvand whirled again. He could hear the clash of teeth at his ear as the massive jaws clamped shut.

  The beast’s lunge had left its neck exposed. Again Harvand’s sword flashed and this time the edge of the blade hit the creature full on the neck, with all the force in Harvand’s strong arm. The beast’s hide, that had defeated the thrusts of a hundred swords, yielded to Amandine’s blade. The sword went deep. This time, there was no roar of pain and hate from the creature. Now, it screamed, a cry so filled with agony and fury that it pierced Harvand’s ears and nearly rendered him unconscious. He fell to his knees, dragging the sword deeper into the beast’s neck. Once more, the terrible noise came from the creature. Blood flowed from the gaping wound, staining the nearby rocks and bushes. Barely able to think for the pain in his head, Harvand pulled his sword free.

  The brave young man raised himself to deliver the fatal blow. But the blood from the beast had made the grass as slick as ice and Harvand’s foot slipped, sending him sprawling on his back. The yellow-gold sun, so high and bright in the endless blue heavens above, shone directly in his eyes.

  An instant later, the beast’s head blocked the blinding rays of the sun. Harvand saw the dreadful head descend, eyes of orange hate fixed on him. Foam-tipped teeth that had ended the lives of countless animals and men filled Harvand’s vision as the beast struck.

  The awful jaws came down. In desperation, Harvand thrust his sword in front of him. Its blade scraped across rows of teeth but its tip found the soft roof of the beast’s mouth. Driven by the strength of Harvand’s arms and the weight of the beast’s own head, the tip continued upwards until it pierced the creature’s brain. No sound came from the beast as it reared in vain to escape the death that Harvand had brought.