‘Look how much they have been giving him.’ Her voice shook with anger. ‘No wonder he can hardly stand.’
‘If he can’t stand, he can’t walk,’ Saxon added. ‘We’ll have to carry him.’
‘How in the Goddess’s name will we ever get him down the mountain?’ Roana asked, her voice breaking with despair.
‘Don’t worry, Roana,’ Ethan assured her. ‘We’ve come this far, and we’re not leaving without your brother. Come on, Sax, help me lift him.’
Saxon and Ethan lifted the frail boy between them, one arm draped over each of their shoulders. Lily and Roana prowled ahead, making sure the way was clear. They tiptoed down the narrow tower stairs, down the wide gallery to the top of the sweeping central staircase. Hearts hammering and mouths parched, the four children crept closer to the ground floor, and the chamber where Sniffer and two Sedah priests waited.
Caspar moaned, his head lolling.
‘Shush, darling Caspar,’ begged Roana. ‘We’ll have you safe soon.’
They hurried down the last of the stairs and could hear the men talking from the library.
‘Where is that dratted boy?’ came one voice. ‘If I have to climb all those stairs again to fetch him, he’ll be feeling the swipe of my cane.’ Roana stiffened with anger, and Caspar cringed, the dreaded voice cutting through the fug of his stupor.
Quietly and quickly the four children hurried through the hall, back towards the kitchen, half carrying, half dragging the prince of Tiregian, past the half-open door of the chamber where the black crows sat. Ethan and Saxon were both feeling the weight of their burden, despite his slight size. They put Caspar down and swapped sides, to take the weight on the opposite shoulder. Lily and Roana grabbed the four pairs of boots from where they had hidden them in the hall chest. The four children pulled them on, roughly lacing them tight.
They hurried towards the back door, almost running now. Roana threw open the door, holding it open for the boys. As Lily ran past the kitchen, she saw the startled face of the old woman look up from loading her large tea tray.
‘What the …?’ swore the woman, dropping the loaf of bread she held. Lily dragged the heavy kitchen door shut, then the back door. As Lily ran out into the snow after the others, she could hear the old woman yelling loudly from inside.
Wilf had run over to help Ethan and Saxon with Caspar. Wilf took Caspar on his back, and piggybacked him up to the copse of trees where their supplies were hidden. Jonte ran out to greet them all, barking a welcome.
Wilf had prepared the two toboggans, so they were packed ready to go. He threw Caspar’s inert body onto the back of one toboggan, covering him with a pile of furs. Roana climbed up beside him, cradling him with her body. At Wilf’s whistle Jonte jumped up behind, his tongue lolling with enjoyment. Wilf climbed onto the front of this toboggan, taking the steering rope with two hands, and kicked off with his legs, sending the toboggan careering towards the steep mountain slope.
From the castle behind came the sound of shouts and yells. Looking back, Ethan could see Sniffer running towards them, with two priests at his heels. The cook huffed behind them, calling suggestions. The priests turned and ran for the barn, where the sleds were stored, their flying robes stark shadows against the snow.
Hurriedly Lily, Ethan, Saxon and Aisha leapt onto the second toboggan with Saxon at the steering rope. Saxon and Ethan kicked off with a massive push, hurtling the loaded toboggan towards the valley floor, hundreds of metres below. Saxon concentrated on steering down the terrain ahead, while Ethan found his bow and aimed it, with nocked arrow, towards the black crows chasing after them. Ethan hooted with excitement as one priest, then another, hurtled forward onto their sleds only to crash ungracefully, black robes askew, as their sled fell apart, destroyed by Ethan’s earlier handiwork.
Sniffer saw the sled crash and the escaping toboggans, and paused momentarily to assess the situation. He ran back to the castle and disappeared, only to return a few moments later carrying a large tea tray. Within seconds he was chasing behind them on his wooden tea tray, his skinny legs folded up before him and his arms tucked in front.
Ethan screamed with frustration, his bow jerking wildly in the tumultuous downhill ride. ‘Sniffer’s chasing us,’ he yelled. ‘And I think he’s catching up!’
Saxon swerved the toboggan to the left, nearly unseating Aisha, who whined and staggered and flipped her ear inside out with displeasure. Lily held on grimly, clutching Aisha’s collar with one hand. On Sniffer’s tea tray, there was only one person – a light adult with good balance – while the toboggan held three children and a rather large dog. However, the children had the advantage of the steering rope, and the swivelling front runners, while the tea tray had no method of steering other than Sniffer’s legs and weight transfer.
The race was on. Children against adult. Tiregians against Sedah. White furs against black robes. As Sniffer gained ground Aisha growled and leaned towards the enemy, threatening to fall off the toboggan. Lily hauled her back. Saxon gained ground by swerving to the right, dodging a large snow-laden shrub and causing Sniffer to nearly upend the tea tray. He had to stop, stumble round the shrub and slide again, giving the toboggan valuable seconds. Wilf had taken a more direct route down, so had gained more than a hundred metres, with Prince Caspar and Princess Roana curled behind him. Sniffer suddenly realised he was following the wrong toboggan and headed straight downhill, hurtling over the snow at great speed. Sniffer thought that if he could just use his dagger to dispose of the boy steering the first toboggan, then the two royal children would be in his power.
Ethan realised the change in tack, and pulled his bowstring back, aiming carefully and releasing his arrow. It arced and raced, whistling through the chilly air, then landed truly, quivering in Sniffer’s thigh. Sniffer arched and screamed, his body ricocheting off the tea tray and landing in a crumpled heap, a stain of bright crimson spreading over the snow. Sniffer clutched at his leg and swore in pain. He tried to remount his tea tray, but it slipped and slid most disobediently under him.
‘Good shot,’ crowed Saxon, grinning over his shoulder, then turned back to the difficult task of steering the bucking toboggan down a seemingly sheer slope. Aisha snuffled the breeze, her ears flying back in the wind. Lily cuddled Aisha closer, relieved at the close call.
Though Wilf was naturally a more skilled tobogganist, so his sled flew straighter and more swiftly, the three southerners made the trip without major mishap and only a few minutes slower than the experienced Wilf. At the bottom of the mountain they finally slid onto the lake, hearts pounding with excitement, hair flying and cheeks shining. Wilf had already scanned the horizon and located the two ice boats. The five children pushed and shoved the toboggans, one containing the semi-conscious body of Prince Caspar, towards the distant ice boats while the two dogs slithered and slid in their socks on the dark grey ice.
‘Look,’ shouted Roana, gazing back over her shoulder. ‘It’s Sniffer!’
A hundred metres behind them they could see the black stooped figure of Sniffer, an arrow quivering from his thigh, sliding his way onto the ice on the now-battered tea tray.
‘Does that man never give up?’ demanded Saxon, slipping and slithering on the ice.
‘Apparently not,’ replied Ethan, greatly disappointed. ‘I aimed for his thigh because I wanted to disable him, not actually kill him.’
Wilf grunted. ‘It would have been better if you aimed for his heart.’
Ethan twisted to the rear. Their pursuer was obviously weakened but still determined to give chase. He too slipped on the ice, yet never slowed down. The children had the disadvantage of pushing two laden toboggans, while Sniffer, although injured, was now unencumbered. He gained steadily, the gap closing – one hundred metres, ninety, eighty, seventy, sixty, fifty metres.
‘Run harder,’ panted Wilf. ‘Not far now.’
A group of four tribesmen, including Wilf’s father, Jared, were waiting by the two ice boats, daggers drawn and faces
grim. Large white sails flapped crisply in the winter breeze. The tribesmen ran forward to help. The gap narrowed. Forty, thirty, twenty metres.
Lily and Roana were panting strongly, their legs quivering with exertion and their mouths dry as dust. Aisha ran at Lily’s heels, then stopped and turned to face Sniffer. She growled a warning, then launched back towards their pursuer, hackles raised and teeth bared. Jonte followed, bounding across the ice. Sniffer stumbled then stopped, reluctant to race straight into the snarling pair of dogs.
The children reached the tribesmen safely, panting with relief, letting the toboggans go. Three of the tribesmen set off towards Sniffer, their daggers unsheathed, leaving Jared to help the children.
Sniffer paused, then turned and ran. The tribesmen let him go, more focused on helping the children escape than catching the strange Sedah pursuer. Lily and Wilf whistled sharply, calling Aisha and Jonte to join their families once more. The toboggans were pushed over to the ice boats tethered to a bush on the lake’s edge.
‘Well done, southerners,’ said Jared gravely. ‘Well done, Wilf. I’m proud of you. We did not expect you for quite some time, and we certainly were not sure that you would succeed in your quest.’
Wilf smiled proudly, hiding his embarrassment by fussing over a pack.
Jared reached down and tenderly lifted the unconscious prince onto the deck. All the gear was swiftly loaded onto one of the ice boats, after the five children. The two big dogs were ungracefully hoisted on deck.
The ice boats were quite compact, so it was squashy having everyone on board. Jared gave him last-minute instructions on steering and navigating the boat. Then the tribesmen pulled the ice boat out away from the bank, towards the centre of the frozen lake, and pointed the bow downwind.
The white sails filled with air, and the ice boat leapt forward, its bone keels skating across the ice.
The five children waved madly back at the tribesmen left behind, calling out words of thanks and farewell. The four tribesmen swung themselves up onto the remaining ice boat and followed behind for a while, before steering to the west to return to the main tribal camp.
The ice boat skimmed across the frozen surface of the lake, carried by a fair breeze. Wilf showed them how to steer the boat and how to tack, and gave them directions on how to reach Lightning Crevasse. It was very similar to steering a sailing dinghy, so the children took it in shifts of about an hour at a time, to steer and crew and rest. Lily and Roana fussed over Prince Caspar, who had fallen into a semi-conscious state, quivering and moaning.
‘He looks as though he is in shock,’ Lily decided. ‘We need to keep him warm, and try to give him lots of fluid.’
The tribesmen had brought flasks of water and supplies of dried food – smoked strips of reindeer meat, flat bread, nuts and desiccated cheese. Roana lay beside her brother, forcing sips of water between his lips and trying to keep him warm. Despite the furs, he was shivering uncontrollably.
As the hours passed, Prince Caspar started to thrash about and shout loudly.
‘I don’t have any herbs or medicines I can give him,’ worried Lily. ‘Everything is in the packs on the horses. When we get to Lightning Crevasse I can give him some chamomile tea to help him sleep.’
Roana tried to soothe him with her voice, telling him stories about their mother and the palace at Tira. She could not talk to him about their father yet. Roana’s voice seemed to calm the prince and he fell into a troubled sleep, occasionally thrashing with nightmares.
The other children talked in low voices, reliving their adventures, their escape and the amazing tenacity of Sniffer. When it grew dark, they decided to drop the sails in the centre of the lake and sleep until morning. It was a bad night’s sleep, with Caspar tossing and crying out, and the children conscious of the great snowy darkness around them. In the middle of the night everyone was woken by a crash.
‘Caspar, Caspar,’ screamed Roana. ‘Where are you?’
Caspar had woken and crawled off the deck and onto the ice, knocking over a pile of packs, then falling and sprawling on the ice. He struggled to his feet and tried to run, legs slipping and sliding under him. He fell again, knocking all the breath from his body. Roana leapt off the boat after him and hurried to his side.
‘It is all right, Caspar,’ she crooned. ‘You are safe now. You are with me, Roana, your sister.’
Caspar looked at her without recognition, his eyes wide with terror.
‘Where priests?’ he mumbled, almost incoherently. ‘Going Sedah?’
‘No, we are not going to Sedah,’ she soothed. ‘We are taking you home to Mama, to Tira.’
Caspar shook his head.
‘No,’ he replied emphatically. ‘Mama gone. Dadda gone. Roana gone.’
‘Mama’s not gone, Caspar,’ Roana murmured. ‘I came for you. We are going home now and everything is going to be all right.’
Saxon and Ethan helped half carry, half drag the limp prince back to the ice boat and settle him in his pile of furs. Aisha licked the prince gently on his face. He smiled, closed his eyes and settled back to sleep.
At dawn, the sails were hoisted once more, and the ice boat kept sailing southwards.
Caspar woke when the boat began to move. He looked about him with disbelief. ‘Medicine?’ he croaked.
‘No medicine, darling,’ replied Roana gently. ‘Have some water and some breakfast. It will make you feel better.’
‘Just a little at a time,’ Lily warned. ‘He has not eaten for a while, and we don’t want him to be sick.’
Caspar ate a little and had a few sips of water at regular intervals throughout the day. Gradually he brightened and was soon propped up, gazing about him and feeling the chilly wind on his face, but saying little. Aisha lay close by his side, to comfort him with her warm presence. Occasionally she licked him on the hand, or nudged him with her nose, as if he was a weak puppy who needed help to find his paws.
Late in the afternoon, Wilf pointed ahead to the south. The lake narrowed and reached its southerly shore. A merrily blazing fire and two white domed tents showed them where the tribesfolk were camping. A makeshift yard held the familiar forms of Nutmeg, Caramel, Toffee, Moonbeam and Mischief.
Lily slumped with relief.
‘We made it,’ she cried. The five children whooped and laughed with joy. Aisha and Jonte barked loudly. Caspar sat up, gazing at the camp in bemusement. He saw nothing about the strange white tents to elicit such festivity, but his fuggy brain was struggling to make sense of everything at the moment.
Two mountain tribesmen ran down to the shore to greet them and help them stow the ice boat and gear. In a few minutes they were all sitting on fur rugs beside the fireplace, eating steaming bowls of reindeer stew and explaining their adventures to the delighted tribesfolk. Even Caspar ate a bowl of stew with the most animation he had shown since his rescue.
The two dogs chewed on the sinewy bones, crunching and munching happily.
That night they all crawled into the second felt dome to sleep, ready to set off on their ride south first thing in the morning. Lily made chamomile tea for Prince Caspar to help him have a deep and healing sleep.
‘My medicine?’ asked Caspar eagerly when Lily brought him the cup of warm liquid.
‘This is not the same medicine that the priests gave you,’ explained Lily. ‘This is a good medicine to help you sleep and get better.’
Caspar looked disappointed but sipped the tea experimentally, then drank it down.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘It tastes better than the medicine the priests gave me.’
Lily laughed. ‘It’s also better for you than whatever they made you drink.’ Roana listened eagerly to this small conversation, taking it as a sign that the drug was wearing off and that Caspar was improving.
Caspar turned shyly to Roana. ‘Are you really my sister? You look a little bit like Roana, but not much, and you sound like her, but different somehow …’
‘Yes,’ Roana replied. ‘I will prove
it to you.’ Roana carefully pulled out the heart-shaped amethyst locket she wore around her neck.
‘Mama’s locket,’ Caspar sighed. Roana opened the catch to show Caspar the blonde and black locks of hair plaited together inside.
Caspar examined Roana’s short hair, her mountain tribe clothes and tanned face. ‘You have changed,’ he said gravely.
Roana gave him a fierce hug. ‘We have all changed, but life is like that.’
‘I am glad you came,’ Caspar decided.
‘How could I not?’ laughed Roana, ruffling up his hair. ‘You are a pest, but you are still my brother.’
Caspar smiled and settled down to sleep, Aisha curled up beside him.
In the morning, everyone rose before dawn to saddle the horses, fill the water bottles and sling the packs behind the saddles. Farewells and thankyous were exchanged with handshakes and hugs. The hardest part was to say goodbye to Wilf and Jonte, who had helped them beyond measure.
‘We will never forget you,’ Roana said. ‘I owe you more than I can ever say. Thank you. Thank you.’
Wilf blushed and shuffled, stroking Jonte’s head. ‘Any time,’ he grinned. ‘Ride safely, and don’t let Sniffer catch you. Any time you want another game of stickball, let me know.’
‘Stickball is the best,’ Ethan agreed.
‘Look at Aisha,’ Lily cried. Aisha and Jonte were playing down by the lakeside as though they knew it was their last game together. They darted and feinted, tumbled and rumbled, chased and raced, kicking up snow with their paws.
Ethan and Saxon helped Prince Caspar clamber up onto Mischief’s saddle, then Lily, Ethan, Saxon and Roana mounted their horses, waved goodbye and trotted down the path that led out of the valley and south to Bryn. Lily whistled for Aisha. Aisha paused in her play but did not follow, instead racing with Jonte along the lakeside, neck by neck, chasing a bird that was silly enough to swoop in front of them. Lily whistled again, then called impatiently, ‘Aisha, come.’
The Snowy Tower Page 14
