The Snowy Tower

by Belinda Murrell

  Soon they had a cosy shelter. The flames of the small fire burned merrily, dispelling the enormity of that huge mountainside. The children dined on biscuits and water, which they shared with the two dogs. Jonte looked crestfallen at this meagre meal.

  ‘You know there are sea shells on the summit of these mountains,’ Wilf said. ‘You can find them in high summer. Once upon a time these mountains were at the bottom of the sea. The legend is that the snow giants battled and fought so long and hard that the very ground shook and heaved, until it bulged into a huge mountain range, which would forever be covered in snow.’

  Looking out at the lonely mountain, it was hard to imagine it had once been under the sea. It was much easier to imagine snow giants rampaging over the land than fish and whales swimming over it. They shivered together in a huddle of dogs and children and rugs and furs, trying to keep warm and sleep.

  In the middle of the night, Ethan was woken by a sniffing sound. He sat straight upright, his heart in his mouth. Something brushed against the side of the soft felt dome, bulging the side inwards. Ethan did not dare to breathe.

  Saxon woke too as a warm body brushed past his on the outside of the tent. He moved away hurriedly to the centre where Lily and Roana slept, waking them with his sudden movement. Soon all five, with Jonte and Aisha, were sitting upright, listening to the sounds of the body moving around and around their tent.

  They could feel warm breath brushing the outside of the felt. They could hear deep rhythmic breathing and the odd snuffle of a scent drawn deep into the lungs. There was a soft crunching of the icy snow outside and a gentle brushing of body or bodies on felt.

  A loud bellowing roar froze their hearts and sank their stomachs. The five children huddled together in the centre of the dome, as far from the rounded sides as they could manage. Aisha shivered and cuddled closer, with Jonte beside her, his eyes wide and ears pricked. Wilf and Ethan kept their hands on the dogs’ necks to keep them still.

  Wilf listened carefully, analysing the movement and sound.

  ‘It’s not wolves,’ he whispered. ‘It could be snow lions. Don’t move. Don’t make a noise. If we stay still they won’t breach the dome.’

  The children stayed frozen – their ears keen, their eyes trying to pierce through the gloom, their hearts pounding and tongues dry. There was a frenzied tearing noise outside the flap. The creatures sounded as though they were bickering over something.

  The creatures circled and sniffed and squabbled for what seemed like hours. Lily’s head lolled in exhaustion. Aisha relaxed and went to sleep. Ethan and Saxon started to rock precariously in their fatigue. Roana breathed deeply and quickly, her hand fiddling incessantly with her amethyst locket. Wilf alone sat still and upright, his eyes following the vague shadows on the dome wall. At last the bodies seemed to go away and the noise stilled.

  ‘Thank the Moon Goddess,’ moaned Roana, collapsing flat on her back. ‘I thought they would stay all nigh–’

  A loud roar rent the darkness. A heavy paw struck the tent, its claws scratching fine tears in the felt. Aisha woke immediately, barking furiously. She ran to the dome flap, her hackles and one paw raised. Jonte rose beside her, echoing her bark and stance. Lily smothered a shriek, stuffing her fists to her mouth.

  Another paw struck the dome, sending it shuddering to one side.

  ‘We are discovered,’ whispered Wilf furiously, drawing his dagger. He rose to a crouch and crept to the flap, warning the dogs to stay quiet. Ethan rose behind him, carefully stringing his bow and nocking an arrow. As Wilf drew back the flap, the dogs surged forward, their noses twitching and their ears pricked. At the dome entrance Wilf stepped over a mangled mass of skin and cold liquid.

  Roana slid back the glass shade and lit the lantern with the tinderbox, warming the dome with a cozy red glow. The four children all reluctantly followed Wilf out into the snow.

  ‘My water bottle,’ Lily whispered, glancing at the remains of her torn leather flask.

  ‘The snow lions,’ breathed Ethan, staring mesmerised at the shadowy beasts lurking just beyond the range of the lantern light. A deep snarl reverberated, along with the menacing swipe of a lashing tail. There were two lions – a male and a female. The male had a massive ruff of shaggy white fur, framing his broad face and tawny eyes. The female was a slighter build, her fur thick and white, without a mane. The two animals stared inquisitively at the children, their tails lashing slowly. The male shook his mane, ruffling it to full size, and crouched large and menacing, ready to pounce. The female moved forward slowly and cautiously.

  ‘Whatever happens, don’t run,’ warned Wilf quietly, clutching his dagger tightly. ‘They may rush us, but they shouldn’t attack if we stay firm.’

  ‘You said they would not breach the dome,’ whispered Roana fiercely.

  ‘I told you not to move,’ retorted Wilf over his shoulder. The tail lashed more violently. Roana stepped back hurriedly. ‘Don’t move!’ reiterated Wilf urgently.

  The female bounded forward, tawny eyes glowing and white fur shimmering indistinctly against the snow. Roana breathed deeply in fear, but did not move. Aisha bounded forward in retaliation, barking deeply in her throat. The feline shadow paused, then glissaded through the air, roaring in return. Aisha leapt forward then feinted back, narrowly missing a razor-sharp claw. Jonte followed, barking and feinting. The shadow paused, confused by this sudden onslaught. She lashed out viciously at Aisha, claws extended, ready to kill. Aisha leapt back daintily. Ethan’s heart pounded, seeing how close the claws had come to his beloved dog. He pulled back the string on his bow and took aim, fear fighting his admiration for this formidable yet magnificent enemy.

  The two snow lions registered the two fierce dogs, and the crowd of humans armed and determined, and stopped. The two shadows snuffled the wind, turned and evaporated into the darkness. The children slumped with relief.

  ‘They’re gone,’ announced Wilf, dropping his dagger to his side.

  ‘Good girl, Aisha,’ grinned Lily, patting Aisha’s head vigorously. ‘You were so brave.’

  ‘You too, Jonte,’ agreed Roana, rubbing Jonte between the ears.

  ‘Let’s get some sleep,’ added Ethan. ‘This has been far too much action for one night.’

  They all returned to the dome, now slightly lopsided and a little torn on one side, and were soon fast asleep. At sunrise the next morning, they stirred and broke camp, eager to reach the tower.

  When they looked out, they realised that the summit of the mountain was surrounded by a sea of cloud. The sun shone down above the clouds, bathing the peak in gold and pink, and shimmering on the seething, mist below. It was an eerie outlook, as though the world below the mist had completely disappeared, leaving them alone in a tiny white world shrunk to the size of the jagged mountain peak. Golden eagles wheeled above their heads searching for prey. One dived suddenly, spiralling down, plummeting to earth, then slowly rose, struggling with the weight of some hapless prey.

  Within an hour they had reached the summit. From above they could see the Tower of Snows, or the Tower of Sun and Moon, tucked just below the summit on the south-eastern side.

  ‘Now we have to move carefully,’ Wilf ordered. ‘They are unlikely to be watching the eastern summit but, just in case, we need to be completely silent and hidden. We will watch the tower from here, then move gradually downhill. We will keep watching the tower in case we can learn anything.’

  The other children nodded. The tower below was a magnificent building. It was not just one tower, but a rectangular building with several turreted roofs, crowned by a taller main bell tower in the centre. It was really a small castle, fortified by the treacherous terrain and the snows that guarded the tower for half the year. Looking below, there was no sign of the spring thaw that was apparent further down the valley. The snow looked ready to stay for months.

  Well beneath the tower they could see the glistening grey of the frozen lake, spreading across the valley floor. The children clambered down
slowly and silently, until they came to a small copse of trees behind the tower. In their white furs, hoods and gloves, they melted into the snowy background. Here they sat and waited silently, one hand on the dogs’ backs to stop them from moving or barking.

  The tower stood silent and forlorn, with deep snow drifts banked up about its base. The main entrance faced down to the valley, but at the rear of the tower were a couple of small doors. One of these had a smudge of footprints leading from the tower to an outbuilding set back against the mountainside.

  They watched and waited for about half an hour.

  ‘We should go and check it out,’ suggested Ethan, in a low whisper. ‘Saxon and I can go while you three stay here with the dogs.’

  There was some whispered disagreement as to who should go and who should stay, but Ethan insisted that Roana should stay safely in the copse until they had assessed the situation, and Wilf needed to keep Jonte out of sight with Aisha and Lily.

  Saxon and Ethan crept from their hiding place, keeping the white fur hoods pulled low over their faces. They checked the tower’s back door, which was securely locked. Next they examined the outbuilding. This was unlocked and seemed to be a combined storehouse and barn. There was a coop for chickens and stalls where animals had recently been kept. Ethan guessed this was where the donkeys they had seen the priests riding had been stabled. There were bales of hay and sacks of grain, and a couple of toboggans hanging on the wall.

  ‘It would be a good idea to disable these toboggans,’ whispered Ethan. ‘We don’t want anyone following us on them.’

  Saxon nodded. They found a couple of chisels on a workbench and carefully prised the toboggan runners away from the wooden struts on the base.

  When they discovered nothing else of interest, they returned to the others hiding under the trees.

  After an hour of cold, long waiting there was a sudden noise that whipped across the ice like a branch snapping. Everyone froze. It was the sound of a bolt being drawn back. Everyone sank deeper into the shadows. The back door creaked rustily, and opened out over the snow.

  ‘Let’s go,’ whispered Ethan. ‘We’ll see you soon, Wilf.’

  Fox arrived at the rebel camp in the forest with a secret document, signed by Queen Ashana, appointing him as chief trainer of the rebel forces. He found a force of two hundred men – all keen but mostly inexperienced and rather disorganised. They had been training daily for weeks, but were woefully short on weapons. Most were training with swords made of timber, or with pitchforks and clubs.

  Fox sent out raiding parties into the countryside to beg, borrow and steal iron implements – pitchforks, ploughs, scythes, even horseshoes. George the blacksmith built a makeshift forge in the camp, where the iron could be melted down and reworked into weapons – swords, arrow heads, spears and daggers. Fox scoured the countryside using his ingenuity and battle experience to find alternative weapons – anything that might be used to confuse, terrify, injure or bamboozle the enemy.

  He set teams of rebels, men, women and children, to work on preparations – collecting timber for the forge fires, gathering raw materials that could be turned into weapons, gathering information, collecting food for the camp, making arrows and spears, carving bows, creating missiles.

  The rebels set to work with a will, inspired by their new sense of direction and purpose. Fox taught teams of rebels to move quietly and unobtrusively, using shadows and natural obstacles to hide their passage. Their improvement was marked and rapid.

  Fox was pleased. Stage one of their plan was working well, but there was still a long way to go.

  The sun glittered on the snow, while the sky over the tower arced a cerulean blue. The children’s eyes were all focused on the small back door, which creaked slowly open.

  An old woman hobbled out, holding a basket, leaving the door ajar. She shuffled through the snow to the outbuilding and went inside. Ethan, Saxon, Lily and Roana darted across the snow to the back door and slipped in, with Aisha at their heels. The door led to a dark scullery, with sinks and benches piled with dirty pots and dishes. To the right was a door leading to the kitchen, with high vaulted stone ceilings and a fire banked in the grate.

  The children crept into a passage, past storage rooms and pantries. They checked each one, in case the prince was locked up in any of these rooms, but found nothing of interest. Their boots made a dull thudding on the hard stone floors, so they all unlaced their boots, and hid them in a large chest in the hallway. Aisha’s paws were protected by her leather socks, so she moved soundlessly in the echoey passage. The children came to a stout timber door, reinforced with ornate iron hinges and studs, which Ethan gently pushed open.

  They were in the tower’s great hall, with its icy stone floor and granite walls. The ceiling soared three floors above them, with a wide stone staircase winding up the left-hand wall to the upper floors. On the right-hand wall were two timber galleries overlooking the hall. Directly ahead was the base of the main bell tower, with a huge bolted gate leading out the front of the castle.

  The children tiptoed into the vast space, terrified someone would see them from one of the galleries or side chambers. On the right was the doorway to a vast dark library, with creamy leather books gleaming gently from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. On the left was the doorway to the reception chamber. The children peeped inside. There was a low fire burning in the grate and a small breakfast table set for four people beside it, but no-one there.

  ‘Caspar must be upstairs,’ Lily whispered.

  ‘Let’s split up in pairs,’ suggested Ethan. ‘We’ll search floor by floor. Be careful not to be seen.’

  The four children crept towards the curving stairway, with its ornate stone balustrades and empty iron chandeliers. A shrill bell sounded from the kitchen. The children jumped then scurried back into the dark library to hide.

  A moment later, they heard voices from the stairs. One sounded horribly, frighteningly familiar. Lily froze in terror. She thought she was going to vomit. She peeked through the crack beside the door. Walking down the stairs were two men, dressed in black. The man on the right, deep in conversation with the Sedah priest, was their dreaded enemy – Sniffer.

  ‘Sniffer’s here,’ mouthed Lily to the others. They all crowded around the door crack to hear.

  ‘It doesn’t look like the children you seek are coming to the tower after all,’ said the priest. ‘It is highly unlikely that mere children would survive such a perilous journey through the snows. They are probably lost in the foothills, or buried at the bottom of a crevasse.’

  ‘These children seem to be remarkably resilient and resourceful,’ contradicted Sniffer. ‘I was sure they would be here by now to try to rescue the prince and take him back to Tira. I found papers in their bags that included floor plans of the tower and notes on the building. I am certain they were heading this way.’

  The children grimaced at each other behind the door. The priest gestured back up the stairs.

  ‘Well, as we discussed, we have kept the prince drugged for the last two days and locked in his chamber,’ the priest explained. ‘However, he needs to continue with his lessons. He is to be taken to Sedah in a couple of weeks and he still has much to learn. The child has been harder to teach than we anticipated. He will join us for breakfast this morning. My colleague is rousing him now.’

  With this the two men entered the reception chamber and took seats at the far end by the fire. The children were about to creep from the library when a swishing movement from above made them freeze once more. A moment later a third man, another priest, strode downstairs and entered the reception chamber. The children could hear the men’s muted voices.

  One by one, the four children and Aisha crept from the library door in their socks and scampered up the stairs to the gallery on the second floor.

  ‘The table was set for four, and there are three of them downstairs now. Prince Caspar is joining them soon, so we should have a few minutes to search without being interrup
ted,’ Ethan whispered.

  The four split up to search rooms as quickly as they could. They found nothing on the second and third floors. Three chambers looked as though they were being occupied, but the rest were eerily empty, the furniture covered in dust cloths. On the third floor there was a tiny doorway, only large enough for a child to enter upright. The priests would need to stoop to go through it. Inside a narrow wooden staircase wound up into the body of the main tower. The four children and Aisha crept up here.

  On the first level there was a door, ajar. Roana gently pushed it open. A tiny window let in a glimmer of sunlight. By this light they could see a small cell, rounded into the circle of the stone tower, with a narrow truckle bed pushed against the wall, and a side table, which held a silver medicine cup and a pitcher of water. Lying on the bed was a young boy dressed in long black robes. His pale blond hair was unkempt, and he stared vacantly at the ceiling.

  ‘Caspar?’ whispered Roana, tears pouring down her face. ‘Is it really you?’

  The boy looked over, then glanced away, disinterested. His face was wan and his eyes redrimmed.

  ‘Caspar!’ exclaimed Roana, more loudly, moving to his bedside. ‘Caspar, it’s me, Roana. Your sister.’

  The boy looked at her once more, raising his head slightly, but his eyes flickered over her short hair, her white furs and her sun-bronzed face, without recognition. He lapsed back onto the bed.

  Roana was beside herself with grief. She sobbed brokenheartedly as she tried to shake some reaction from Prince Caspar. Lily caught her hands gently.

  ‘Look, Roana,’ Lily said, indicating the medicine cup. ‘He’s been drugged. He’s not himself.’

  Together Lily and Roana raised Caspar into a sitting position. Lily splashed some icy water from the jug onto his face.

  ‘Come on,’ Ethan whispered. ‘We need to get out of here before someone comes back to take him to breakfast.’

  Roana and Lily struggled to get Caspar to his feet. He was woozy and lightheaded, and collapsed back on the bed as soon as Lily dropped his arm. Lily picked up the medicine cup and sniffed it gingerly. She pointed to the sticky residue that showed how full the cup had been.