Blue Fire and Ice

by Alan Skinner

  The lifeless form of the creature crashed down onto Harvand. The young man felt his ribs bend and break. He heard other bones snap and agony raced through his body. He tried to breathe but his chest wouldn’t respond. Harvand felt the strength desert him. His vision blurred and the warm sun faded from his eyes and its warmth could not chase away the coldness that wrapped itself around him. His mind imagined strength his body no longer possesed and he tried to push the beast from him. Another rib snapped. One broken, jagged end pierced his heart. Harvand would nevermore breathe the warm air of summer.

  When Amandine learned of Harvand’s death, her grief was greater than any could conceive. She blamed herself for his death, and when the weight of guilt became too much, she blamed the world. She cursed herself for making the sword. She came to believe that her love, though it had filled her and made her feel truly alive, could not have been true. For if it had been, she tormented herself, she would have been able to make him forget the beast and stay by her side at the forge.

  From that day she rarely spoke and when she did her words were bitter and mean. She despised herself and, despising herself, she could not respect what she did. Never again could she coax the metal into revealing its secrets to her and never again did she fashion marvels from the hot metal in her forge.

  When Copper finished his tale, the others sat silent, listening again to his words in their heads. Dot sat next to Miniver, her head resting on the bear’s flank. She stared in silence at the flames of the campfire.

  Brian’s practical voice broke through the silence. ‘I’ll bet, that the other blacksmiths moved back and set up shop again. That would’ve been the sensible thing to do.’

  The others stared at Brian. Aunt Mag tutted, then Grunge laughed and the others joined in.

  ‘Thank you, Copper,’ said Crimson. ‘I think I’ll get some sleep now.’ She said goodnight to everyone and unrolled her sleeping bag beneath the lean-to. The others decided that it was time for them all to sleep and before long they had unrolled their bags under the canvas shelter and zipped themselves inside. Miniver followed Dot and lay down beside her under the lean-to, but not before she stopped by Grunge and then Crimson and wished them peaceful dreams.

  *

  He moved about the shadows of the cave in his usual precise way. While the food heated on the small stove, he took a metal plate from the ledge and placed it on the table.

  Knife, fork and spoon followed, precisely positioned on either side of the plate.

  The dried food was stacked neatly on a ledge: tins of vegetables, fish and soup; bags of sugar, salt, flour, dried fruit, oats and tea. Beneath the ledge was the little stove with two burners and a small kettle. Further along the ledge, there were metal plates and cups, next to a rectangular tub that held the cutlery. A metal basin for washing dishes rested on a flat rock. In the middle of the cave was a small folding table with two folding chairs. It was a crude kitchen, but it was kept tidy and clean.

  In the corner of the kitchen was a small, dark alcove he used as a larder. In its nooks and crannies were wedges of cheese, boxes of powdered milk and tubs of salted meat and fish.

  A shadow filled the entrance from the cavern beyond. She stood there for a moment, observing him. From the corner of his eye he saw the shadow but he made no acknowledgement but just continued his preparations. He removed the saucepan from the stove and placed a serving of boiled potatoes on the plate; then, from the frying pan, he placed a gently fried river trout next to the potatoes. He filled the metal cup with water from the stone jug and put it alongside the plate. His serving complete, he stood behind her chair like a well-trained waiter. She waited a moment, enjoying his obedience, then stood between chair and table. With practised precision, he slid the chair under her as she sat. His work over for the moment, he took the other chair, placed it facing the entrance through which she had come, and sat, waiting for her to finish so he could have his meal.

  ‘I shall be glad to get back to civilisation and lemons,’ she said ruefully. ‘Next time, bring the lemons.’

  Her voice was abrupt and cold, cruel in its complete lack of regard for him. It contained neither anger nor annoyance and held all the more malice for it. It was an ordinary voice, not one of particular power or richness. She spoke well, but with a lack of feeling for her words. This was the way whenever she addressed him.

  It was her hair that one first noticed. Closely cropped around her face, it was a deep, glowing red; as red as a fire engine. In all other respects she looked ordinary; of average build and height with a handsome but unremarkable face. The perceptive person, though, would notice an intensity in her grey eyes that gave them a forbidding cast.

  When she had eaten, she placed her knife and fork on her plate. The moment they came to rest on the metal surface, he was behind her. Again, the polish of the ritual showed in the way he pulled out her chair as she rose. Without a glance at him, she walked towards the doorway. At the doorway she stopped and half turned. She held out her hand.

  ‘Kevin. The pouch,’ she said in her haughty voice.

  Kevin went over to the ledge and took down a small pouch, closed with a leather drawstring. He dropped it into her waiting hand. Without a word, she closed her hand around the pouch and left.

  *

  Brian wriggled in his sleeping bag. Every time he turned, he could feel his clothes twist around his body.

  ‘I knew I should have changed into my pyjamas,’ he grumbled to himself. He turned onto his other side. He was sure he could feel the buttons of his waistcoat digging into his back. ‘How did they get round there?’ he wondered. He fidgeted until he felt a little more comfortable and then concentrated very hard on falling asleep (which is, of course, the very worst thing to do). He was just starting to drift off to sleep when he heard a slight rustling. He thought at first that it was one of the others fidgeting and regretting that they hadn’t brought their pyjamas, but then the noise changed. Someone was moving about …

  Brian opened one eye. The campfire still burned and cast a faint light through the camp. Across the other side of the lean-to, he could see a figure moving carefully and quietly. Crimson. She carried her boots in one hand as she crept from the lean-to. Brian kept watching. She sat on a boulder, put on her boots and tied the laces. (‘Too hasty to make good bows,’ thought Brian.) Then she walked way from the camp, towards the northern edge of the plateau, and disappeared into the night.

  Brian was wondering about Crimson and not concentrating on sleeping at all; so, of course, he quickly fell asleep.

  *

  Miniver woke. She raised her nose in the air. There was a smell she didn’t recognise. A low growl rumbled from her throat. Her ears twitched and she cocked her head, listening. From near the sledge, she heard a soft footfall. She rose and walked towards the sledge. A figure in a long dark robe came out of the darkness. The figure stopped at the sledge and pushed the lever to release the brake. Moving quickly, it grabbed one of the shafts and began pushing the sledge back the way they had come. Back towards the cliff.

  Miniver’s roar rolled across the plateau. The figure stopped, dropping the shaft. As the bear raced towards it, the robed figure turned to her. Miniver could see its face. A woman’s face, impassive and dangerous. Her hand darted beneath her robe and she withdrew a small pouch. Miniver was nearly upon her when she emptied the powdery contents of the pouch into her hand and threw it straight into Miniver’s face.

  Miniver roared in agony. The powder burned her eyes; the fine dust entered her sensitive nostrils, sending a sharp pain through her head. She could taste the bitter, burning powder on her tongue. Blinded, Miniver lashed out but her adversary had moved quickly out of her reach. Miniver fell on her haunches, rubbing her face on her forelegs, trying to rid her eyes of the burning powder.

  The woman grabbed the cart, still a dozen paces from the cliff. She saw the others running from the tent, woken by Miniver’s howls of pain. She hesitated, then gave the cart a violent push towards the cli
ff. Spitting a curse, she turned and fled.

  Miniver’s first roar woke the travellers. Grunge kicked himself free of his sleeping bag. Copper was already at the door of the tent and Grunge made to join him when he tripped, his legs caught in his sleeping bag. The others rushed past Grunge, trying to untangle his legs. They were already racing towards Miniver by the time he freed his feet and burst through the tent flap.

  Brian saw the woman throw the powder at Miniver, then nimbly step aside and make for the sledge.

  ‘The sledge,’ he yelled. ‘She’s trying to steal the sledge!’

  Aunt Mag heard Miniver’s cries of pain and ran to the bear. At the same time, she heard Brian’s cry. For the briefest moment, she was torn. She saw the woman push the sledge but Miniver needed help. In less than a heartbeat she had decided. She rushed to help Miniver.

  ‘No!’ cried Copper. ‘She’s trying to destroy it!’

  Dot ran faster than she had ever run. She was the first to reach the sledge. She lunged and grabbed hold of the side. Her young arms weren’t strong enough to stop it, though, and she felt herself being dragged towards the precipice. A second later, Copper’s hands closed around the shaft and he heaved, trying to change the sledge’s direction away from the cliff. Brian, meanwhile, managed to grab the rear of the sledge. They felt it turn and slow. Dot dug in her heels and the sledge came to a stop at the edge of the cliff top.

  Grunge joined them just as the sled came to rest.

  ‘Sorry, I tripped,’ he said, with an embarrassed smile.

  Brian gave him a dismissive look.

  ‘Let’s drag it over near the tent,’ suggested Copper.

  Miniver was still in pain, trying to rub the powder from her nose and eyes. Aunt Mag could see the powder on Miniver’s muzzle. She took a pinch with her fingers and sniffed.

  ‘Ow!’ she cried. ‘Chilli powder! Oh, Miniver, you poor thing! Let’s get this off you.’

  Still rumbling in pain, Miniver allowed herself to be led back to the fire. Aunt Mag fetched some water and a handkerchief. She bathed the bear’s eyes and nose until the burning eased, and cleaned the powder from her fur.

  ‘Water,’ growled Miniver.

  Aunt Mag led her to the stream and Miniver drank until her mouth no longer burned.

  The others dragged the sledge to the tent. Grunge looked around the camp.

  ‘Where’s Crimson?’ he asked.

  ‘She left,’ said Brian, awkwardly. He didn’t like to think what that might mean.

  ‘Left?’ repeated Copper.

  Brian nodded. ‘Sometime before Miniver roared. She went that way.’ He pointed north along the plateau.

  Copper’s face creased with worry. ‘If she ran into someone out there …’ He didn’t finish. Everyone knew what he was going to say. ‘We should go and look for her. There are torches in one of the packs.’

  ‘She’s been acting strange since we left,’ said Brian. ‘As if she … she wasn’t with us.’

  Copper looked at Brian through narrowed eyes. ‘Do you think she had something to do with this?’ He remembered the words Beatrice spoke to him as he boarded the tram. ‘Watch,’ she had said.

  Brian was confused. ‘I just thought she was a bit … strange, that’s all. Grunge, you know Crimson best. Is she OK? Could she have had something to do with this?’

  Miniver and Aunt Mag returned in time to hear Brian. Miniver answered the question, her growl deep and menacing.

  ‘Crimson wouldn’t do this. Not Crimson!’ Miniver stood on her hind legs, towering above them. Her next growl contained no words. It didn’t need to.

  Copper didn’t flinch. He stared back at Miniver. ‘Then we’d best find out what’s troubling her, hadn’t we?’

  Miniver dropped back to all fours and padded back to Dot. Her eyes and nose still smarted but the burning was lessening. She saw Dot staring at her and gave her a little nudge with her nose. Dot sighed and nodded, and nestled into Miniver’s warm fur.

  A shadow walked into the light of the fire. It was Crimson. She looked at the disarray and the smouldering fire.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’ She walked into the middle of the camp and faced her companions. ‘This is all my fault.’

  Chapter 11

  A River to Cross

  They put some more wood on the fire and sat, waiting for Crimson to continue. After a few moments, she began to speak.

  ‘Something has been pulling at me since we crossed the bridge. I don’t know what it is or what it wants, but it’s deep inside me. At times, it’s like a weight on me and the effort to move seems too great. Its force comes and goes, like the tide. I don’t even know if it’s bad or harmful. It’s like … a sense of something, a connection, pulling me. Then, tonight, I felt something different, something that felt wrong. Something calling. Someone calling.’

  Crimson stared at the fire. ‘It felt the way it did when she spoke to me on the river.’ She shivered. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I knew it was her. She was nearby. I could feel it. So I went for a walk, to try and get a better sense of her, away from the camp. The further I walked, the less I could feel it and it was so good not to feel it that I kept walking. And then I sensed a terrible anger. I could feel someone else’s anger. I knew something was wrong and started back, but I was too late … I’m sorry. I should have warned you but I didn’t expect her to harm us.’

  ‘And what would we have done, Crimson? Stood guard? She has shown how elusive she is. She would have found a way. As it is, she’s done little damage, except to poor Miniver.’ Aunt Mag managed to sound sympathetic and practical at the same time. Crimson walked over to Miniver and wrapped her arms around the bear’s neck.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miniver,’ she whispered.

  ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Crimson,’ replied Miniver in a low rumble.

  One by one Crimson’s companions reassured her that she was not to blame and spoke comforting words to ease her guilt. But no one had words that could lift the burden she felt.

  When all the words had been spoken, they laid their sleeping bags beneath the moon and the stars and slept.

  The next morning they rose with the sun and breakfasted. After exploring the cliff face, it was decided to head north again. Gradually, the plateau melded into the mountain and they climbed steadily. By mid-morning they were able to turn east again. The mountain slope was gentle here and the trees were less thick and they progressed steadily towards their destination.

  Grunge cast a concerned glance towards Crimson. She was worse than the night before. Her eyes were dull and she could barely keep pace with the others. She didn’t speak unless she was asked a direct question and even then her voice was strained and hollow.

  Shortly before noon they reached the summit of the mountain. It was lower than its neighbours to the east but they were able to see far into the distance from its peak. Between them and the next peak was a long, shallow valley. Dense wood covered the floor of the valley and the side of the mountain beyond, but the slope into the valley was sparsely wooded and the ground was even. It raised their spirits to know they would make good time for the rest of the day.

  Beyond the next mountain they could see snow-capped peaks. A long white plain spread out between three mountain peaks. The mountain at the northern end of the snowfield was the highest they had seen. It stood like a giant sentry keeping guard over the snowfield that lay before it. The sun, still slightly to the east, flooded the snowfield. Only the plain wasn’t pure white. Drawn out by the clear rays of the sun, the snowfield’s expanse revealed a tinge of blue.

  ‘That’s it!’ cried Brian. ‘We’ve found it!’

  Grunge smiled. Brian appeared to have abandoned his scepticism, but Grunge couldn’t begrudge him his joy, he felt it himself.

  They all felt it. They knew they weren’t there yet, but to be within sight of the snowfield lifted all their spirits.

  It was Copper who tempered their joy.

  ‘There’s two peaks betwe
en us and the snowfield, not to mention the valley in front of us. That’s a lot of tough ground to cover in just over two days.’

  ‘There’s still six or seven hours left of today,’ said the resolute Aunt Mag. ‘We should eat as we walk. We’ll rest in the valley.’

  Crimson had never felt so tired in her life. ‘I just want to stop. To lie here and sleep,’ she wished silently. She looked at her companions, settling their packs on their shoulders, ready to go on. She would go on, she told herself. She would.

  So, into the valley they descended. It was a long descent over even ground and through light forest, and the companions had been renewed by the sight of their destination.

  Aunt Mag felt the sun on her face and the freedom of having a purpose. She loved being with the children and would never do anything else, but she had always longed to achieve something, one thing, at least, that didn’t come with being Aunt Mag. Now perhaps she could. She glanced behind her. Dot and Miniver were still walking abreast. Behind them, Copper was examining the solar panel on top of the tank. She thought briefly about falling back to talk to the young apprentice. ‘No, this is not the time,’ she decided. She breathed in the mountain air and strode on.

  Copper watched the panel vibrate as the sledge rolled over the ground. Again he worried that the vibrations would damage the delicate panels and wished he’d had time to make a properly cushioned mounting. He and Dot would have to test the panel when they stopped for the night. He glanced over at his apprentice, walking beside Miniver. He was glad she had found a friend. ‘She keeps to herself far too much,’ he thought.

  Brian was worried. If you’d asked him, he wouldn’t have said he was worried; he would have said he was thinking, as he always did. He had worried about everything for as long as he could remember and it now seemed so natural that he no longer knew worry for what it was. Right now, he was worried about the mysterious woman. He was worried about the food; he was worried lest they not make it to the snowfield; he was worried about getting the blue ice down the mountain to Beadleburg without it melting; he was worried because he hadn’t made a list of all the things he had to think about and so he was worried that there was something he should worry about but had forgotten. But most of all, he was worried about Crimson.