As they were about to set off, alarming news arrived from Madame Oublier. The Twelve’s other circuses were still trying to quash sightings where the Veil had faltered and hold back the Demons that had already crossed over. But they were becoming increasingly overwhelmed. Fighting had broken out in London and New York, with a particularly violent attack near a Veil outpost in Beijing. A rare Chinese dragon had taken untold lives before finally being brought down by a squadron of circus-run griffons. Containing the news stories and implementing effective cover-ups was nigh impossible by now – there simply weren’t enough pinstripes or troupes. People were beginning to see what used to be hidden. The end was quite clearly in sight and the Veil mere moments from a complete collapse.
“Lucy, it’s cramped in there so find yourself a good spot; the others can make do,” said Benissimo ushering her aboard. He’d managed to muster a fraction of his old self back, though the loss of Kitty was still visible in his eyes.
Ned stared.
“Go on, pup, spit it out.”
“How come you’re so … normal with her?”
The Ringmaster raised one of his bushy brows. “Perhaps I just like winding you up.” But Ned knew it wasn’t that – he was sure Benissimo still didn’t believe in him and, rude as that was, Ned didn’t blame him.
Inside the Jenny’s cockpit it was indeed cramped and Ned had to sandwich himself between a crate of supplies and George’s broad, hairy back. He gripped the Engineer’s Manual till his fingers physically hurt. He had precious little time now to learn from its pages.
The last member to join them was the Tinker. He looked positively malnourished, as if he hadn’t eaten or slept for days. He hobbled up the gangway and almost barked at Mystero when the Mystral tried to help him with his precious cargo. The machine that Benissimo had ordered him to work on was strapped to his back. Apparently it was some kind of monitoring device and might be able to help Lucy find the Source.
Their pilot was a Canadian named Billy. He had a well-groomed beard and an even bigger moustache than Benissimo. He was wearing a leather fighter pilot’s helmet from World War II. By his side, cross-legged on the floor, was Chief Sitting-Bull. Not only was Sitting-Bull a genuine Sioux American Indian, but he was also a shaman of some fame behind the Veil. He sat barefoot in his jeans and baseball jacket, undisturbed by the new passengers and in a deep trance. The Chief would be using his skills to keep the Jenny hidden from the human world’s eyes and radar. The last thing they needed now was interference from already paranoid army border patrols.
Billy fired up the Jenny’s engine with a deafening roar.
“That there’s pure Canadian muscle at its finest. More horsepower than a stampede o’ broncos!” he yelled proudly. “She chews a little heavy on the gas, but she’ll get us there quicker than a bullet.”
Ned hoped so. As the Jenny rose up into the air, Ned could see the villages and towns of Switzerland below getting up to start their day, unaware of the snarling mound of metal and balloon tearing across their sky, or the thirteen-year-old boy within it, his stomach churning with nerves.
Night had fallen again by the time they arrived. They had made the journey in a record twelve hours, which was fast even for the Jenny. As they sped across the Nepalese countryside, Ned watched out the window. They were in the Gandaki valley now, bordered on either side by the Dhaulagiri Massif and the Annapurna Massif, colossal mountain ranges that housed some of the highest peaks in the world. Lit up by the moon and stars, they were an eerie and intimidating sight.
The troupe’s target was a treacherous mountain over twenty-six thousand feet high and named after Annapurna, the Hindu goddess of food. It was a fitting title for the provider of the Veil’s source of power. The goddess was worshipped for being the giver of nourishment and protection, that which sustains all life. But whatever the great mountain’s powers were, they were fiercely guarded by its walls of ice and heavy rock, and no mountain had taken more lives from those foolish enough to try and climb her.
They came in to land on the last remaining stretch of flat ground before their ascent up the mountain. As soon as Benissimo opened the hatch, a barrage of ice-cold wind howled into the Jenny’s cabin, almost knocking the Tinker to the floor.
Outside, amongst the jagged moonlit rocks and snow, they were met by a group of steely-faced shikari, the name given to the local hunters of the region. They had come on Madame Oublier’s request from a remote Veil outpost in the neighbouring valley. These men had the blood of frost giants in their veins, though the height and features of their lumbering ancestors were now all but gone. Ned studied them in awe. Their eyes were of the lightest blue. They wore no shoes, very little clothing and were completely impervious to the cold. They also had more news, and it was not good.
“My brother arrived not more than an hour ago and he has explosives,” explained Benissimo, passing on the news to his troupe. “He means to destroy the Source before we even get there.”
Nobody replied. What had been a race against the falling Veil was now a race against something – someone – else too. If they didn’t catch up with the butcher before he set his charges, everything would be lost.
The worried silence was broken when the shikari saw George. All at once they started to gabble excitedly in a language all of their own and it wasn’t until Lucy pointed to their map that they explained why.
Lucy did indeed seem to know where the Source was hidden, it was as though something in the mountain was calling her. The place she had selected on their map was, according to their own legends, out of bounds to the shikari. The same legend had it that great apes guarded its boundaries; boundaries that no one had ever dared cross.
“Yeti … like him only white,” explained their leader.
Both Billy and Sitting-Bull stayed behind to rendezvous with the second expedition. Meanwhile the rest of the troupe prepared for departure. Finn and his hawk forged ahead. They would be Benissimo’s eyes and ears up the mountain; any hint of trouble and Aark would raise the alarm. George was loaded up with the bulk of their supplies and the rest of the expedition lined up behind him carrying what they could.
The Ringmaster took Ned to one side as he made his way to the front.
“Are you ready?” Benissimo asked, giving him a funny look.
It was not the first time he’d asked Ned the question.
“Ready? Oh yes,” said Ned indicating his gear and his Manual.
“No, Ned, I mean are YOU ready?”
But before Ned could answer, Benissimo strode off again, taking his place at the lead and giving the troupe the signal to move out.
Annapurna
Though hampered by the lack of daylight, the troupe attacked their goal with purpose, traversing the softer, rockier slopes at speed, and hitting the real mountainside within the hour. The cold bit hard. Ned’s legs were soon covered with heavy snow and ice, and his eyes hurt from squinting. But they were making good progress. He glanced behind him and caught sight of Lucy who gave him a reassuring nod. It was a nod that said, “We can do this.” For a moment, Ned dared to hope that she was right, which was when they were met by the first barrage.
Out of nowhere an angry wall of wind and snow flew at them from the top of the mountain. As the temperature plummeted even further, Ned felt the sweat under his clothing freeze on to his skin, despite all their protective gear. The Tinker started hammering on one of his instruments.
“A blizzard? This can’t be right, boss. It said we’d have a clear run of it when we landed.”
The Ringmaster peered at the roaring darkness.
“This is no ordinary storm. It’s my brother; he’s trying to slow us down.”
The blizzard left them wading through knee-deep snow, unable to see, fighting against a wall of wind that buffeted them from top to toe. But Benissimo pushed them onwards mercilessly, until even the shikari started to raise their concerns.
“Safety be damned! We must get to the Source,” insisted the Ringmaste
r.
Ned’s muscles cried out with pain and he had to fight to breathe, though nothing was worse than the creeping cold, like ravenous pins biting at his fingers, toes and any small part of his face left exposed. Behind him, Lucy attacked the mountain in steely silence. He stifled his groans, and marched on.
Climbing, clawing, scratching and stumbling, they forged their way ever upwards. But with every foot gained in altitude, they lost a degree in heat, till they found themselves in a barrage of cold so deep, so unforgiving, that it penetrated the marrow of Ned’s bones.
The expedition slowed to a crawl. They were still hours from dawn and even under the powerful lamplight carried by a less-affected George, visibility had reached zero. As the storm worsened they stopped to tether themselves together by rope. Anyone lagging behind now would be lost in an instant and perish just as quickly. Ice formed on the fur of Ned’s coat and the howling wind beat at his eardrums relentlessly. The only evidence of the others’ existence was the occasional tug at the rope around Ned’s waist from George ahead and Lucy behind him. His mind drifted in the darkness and he wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking when something pulled him back to the real world … by not pulling at all. The ropes around his waist had gone slack.
Terror gripped him as he scanned the storm for any sign of George or the others ahead. If he couldn’t catch up with them, he’d be finished. But that was only his second concern. Lucy was behind him and that rope had gone slack too.
“LUCY!” he screamed.
But his voice was a whisper to the blizzard’s roar. Turning back down the mountain, he looked to the ground, barely making out his own footprints. In moments the blizzard would cover them up with fresh snow and his route to her would be lost forever. Panting and pushing, he stumbled back in her direction. He fell, got up, fell again, over and over as he searched. Each time he stumbled his clothes grew heavier and wetter with snow and the attempts to lift himself up again more exhausting. Finally he stopped trying.
Ned lay in the snow, his path to Lucy and his allies now gone forever. Ned would have cried out if he could, but there was nothing left of him. Somehow he didn’t seem to mind. He wanted to rest, just a little rest, if only for a moment.
He let himself fall, roll back down the slope, a tumbling mess of exhausted boy in the grips of a cruel mountain and its unrelenting storm. He hit something hard, something made of flesh and bone. It was Lucy.
She was completely unconscious and half buried in snow, and Ned was not far behind. But Lucy needed him. Brave, uncomplaining Lucy, who lay there, horribly still. His mind went over the pages of the Manual. He could make fire from snow but what little heat his imagination could muster would be swallowed in an instant. What he really needed was … help.
“Famil-ra-sa,” he breathed.
A colourless shape formed in front of him and waited for instruction.
“George, Gorrn … you’ve got to find George,” whispered Ned.
“Unt,” replied Gorrn.
His familiar didn’t move. What was wrong with him? They had minutes at best before the cold took them, but Gorrn simply sat there staring, with his tiny unblinking eyes. Kitty had said something to him, what was it? Something about being polite …
“Please?” pleaded Ned.
“Arr,” Gorrn replied, and disappeared.
Moments later George’s snow-matted chest almost crushed them in its embrace, and a satisfied Gorrn returned to Ned’s shadow. Ned shut his eyes tight, relishing the momentary feeling of safety.
George raced up the mountain, powering past the rest of the troupe, then the enormous ape deposited his two charges under the shelter of an overhanging shelf of ice before going back to help the others. The shikari arrived next, and began preparing them a restorative brew. Soon after George ushered in the rest of the team, before placing his massive body between them and the worst of the roaring blizzard beyond.
Even their guides had lost their place on the mountain, such was the strength of the storm. Benissimo threw down a fire rune to warm them, then hurriedly lit gas lamps to check on his maps, Mystero advising from his shoulder. Ned knew they had minutes at best before Benissimo would urge them all on again, and he shivered beside a barely-conscious Lucy, waiting for Mrs Cottlecot’s furs to dry and the fire to defrost the innards of his bones.
On the floor beside him, the frozen clockwork face of Whiskers blinked as the little rodent’s gears started to thaw. Even tucked away in Ned’s pocket, the mouse had suffered. The Tinker checked him over perfunctorily, while muttering to himself about fieldwork and missing his cosy lab. Dawn was by now close to breaking, though you couldn’t tell through the impenetrable barrage of snow and wind.
“Five minutes,” boomed Benissimo over the wind.
Lucy’s teeth chattered as she spoke. “I th-think we’re close, Ned, I can s-s-s-sense it.” As she gulped back the shikari’s brew, her shivering began to ease. “Thanks for c-coming back for me. Kitty’s familiar came in pretty handy!” She paused. “Were you frightened?”
It was a good question.
Ned had spent almost every day since his birthday afraid of one thing or another; but he’d known since he’d first met Lucy at St Clotilde’s that they had to protect one another.
“A little, but I’m more frightened of what’s up there. Benissimo’s been sure I’ll fail as an Engineer since the beginning. And the thing is … I think he might be right.”
“That’s not why he treats you the way he does, Ned,” Lucy whispered quietly.
“What about that glare he keeps giving me?”
She shook her head but didn’t say any more, and for a moment they were quiet.
“Were you scared?” he asked eventually.
Lucy fingered the chain around her neck. “No, I’ve been preparing for this my whole life. So more angry than scared. Besides …”
“Besides?” he asked.
“I’ve got you, haven’t I? I knew you’d find me. Again.”
Ned nodded and managed a smile, through chapped lips and wind-battered skin.
“Yes Lucy, you’ve got me.”
And at that precise moment she did. But as Ned was discovering, moments like these on either side of the Veil are often only ever that; an instant sandwiched between events that cannot be controlled.
“Two more minutes,” urged Benissimo grimly.
George stood and shook the snow from his back like a wet dog.
And beyond their ice shelf the storm lessened, just enough for the sniper within it to fire his first shot.
Cold-hearted
The loud crack of gunfire whistled through the air and one of the shikari staggered backwards, before looking down at his chest in bewilderment. A steady stream of blood poured out of him and he crumpled to his knees. Then everything moved quickly. George let out an angry roar, beating his chest in defiance at their hidden assailant. Then seemingly from all around them the mountain erupted in gunfire.
“Get down!” commanded Benissimo pulling the Tinker to the ground beside him.
Ned felt the blood rush to his ears as he and Lucy threw themselves behind a mound of snow, along with some of the other shikari. The only man left standing was Mystero, who calmly peered out through the storm, his body in its mist form oblivious to the bullets tearing through the air.
“I’m going in to find them,” he called, and a second later was gone.
Off to one side, beyond the shelf they were sheltering under, they heard rage-filled roars bellowing back at another wave of gunfire.
“It’s the yetis! They’re fighting Barbarossa! He must have found the Source,” yelled George, as every muscle in the great ape’s body tensed, urging him to seek out and protect what he hoped might be his own kind.
“How in God’s name …? He’s got no blasted Medic!” said Benissimo. He grabbed on to George’s backpack. “Hold still, George, we still don’t know what we’re up against.”
As the Ringmaster pulled out his spyglass, a bullet t
ore across his cheek, leaving a crimson line in its wake, then, as Ned watched in wonder, his skin healed itself again almost instantly.
“Slim … it’s got to be. Only a long-elf could see through this mire,” muttered Benissimo. “We must be close. Lucy, do you sense anything?”
“To the side there, beyond the ledge, where the other shots and the roars are coming from … I … I think it’s there.”
Benissimo nodded.
Ned could vaguely make out a narrow ledge to their left. It was completely exposed and fell away to nothing. Any attempt to aid the yetis right now would be met by certain gunfire. George howled in animal frustration, pounding the ice with his fists. Slim and his men replied.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Three more shots buried themselves into the ice shelf above their heads.
“He’s trying to bring it down on us! Ned, how do you think you’d fare working your gift on a moving target?”
“What target?”
“His bullets, boy! I need you to stop his bullets.”
A stationary target was one thing, but a bullet? How did you change something you couldn’t even see?
“Err …”
There was a tug on his arm from Lucy, who looked him dead in the eye.
“Ned, you tore my six-hundred-year-old home in half and you weren’t even trying. You can do this! I just know it.”
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Another round was followed by another shard of splintered ice.
“No time for your nonsense now, boy, just get on with it!” ordered Benissimo. Even without his top hat and jacket, the Ringmaster’s words were not easily ignored.
Circus of Marvels Page 22