Blue Fire and Ice

by Alan Skinner

  Brian folded his list and placed it in his pocket. Then saying good-bye, he went to get ready, wondering whether he should pack his slippers anyway, just in case.

  *

  Miniver’s large paw raked the blackberry bush, separating the ripe, juicy blackberries from the bush. The berries showered to the ground and Miniver pushed them into the rather large pile of berries she had already collected. Sitting on her haunches, she sifted through the berries, examining each in turn. She spotted one that had been slightly squished.

  ‘Jam,’ she said to herself, and moved it to a smaller pile next to her.

  When Miniver thought she had enough, she scooped the piles into two bags. Gently, she lifted both bags with her teeth and ambled down the track towards Home.

  ‘Professor Weevil will have the jam made by the time I get back,’ she hoped as she made her way through the forest. ‘Perhaps he will invite me for afternoon coffee with crumpets and jam.’ She wished she had time for crumpets and jam right that minute but she had a lot to do before she left in the morning.

  Grunge and Crimson had found her a little earlier as she stood in a small stream trying to catch a fish for her dinner. Calamity had scampered from the woods and run straight to the stream’s edge, barking her hello and scaring away any fish lurking under the rocks. Knowing it was pointless to reprimand the irrepressible pup, Miniver had waded from the stream and returned Calamity’s greeting with a good-natured growl hello and a lick on the pup’s face.

  The exuberant Calamity gave one of Miniver’s dripping legs a little nip and ran a dozen paces, waiting for the bear to chase her.

  ‘We haven’t come to play, Calamity,’ chided Grunge good-naturedly. ‘We need to talk to Miniver.’

  Crimson and Grunge made themselves comfortable on a rock next to Miniver. Giving all the details, they explained what they had discovered and what they now planned to do. Miniver, who considered the welfare and safety of all Muddles was her personal responsibility, needed little encouragement.

  ‘It will be very hard, Miniver, and I don’t like asking you, but we can’t think of anyone else to pull the sledge,’ said Crimson.

  ‘Why should you think of anyone else?’ she growled. ‘Don’t you think I can do it? Anyway … someone has to look after you and Grunge. Especially you. Something’s troubling you.’

  Crimson looked into Miniver’s eyes, eyes that were impossibly dark and deep. ‘Thank you, Miniver. But we know it’s a lot to ask you to wear a harness. And the sledge will be very heavy.’ She stroked Miniver’s head. ‘I don’t know what exactly is troubling me. It’s a feeling, something I’ve never felt before. But I know one thing. It frightens me.’

  Miniver studied Crimson’s kind and honest face, then laid her head in Crimson’s lap and closed her eyes. The sledge couldn’t feel as heavy as her heart did. She would gladly go.

  *

  Once again, Grunge and Crimson made their way up the stairs at the back of the library and through the shelves of musty books. The afternoon light made a pool of gold around the cabinet where they had found Meddle’s book. They knelt and opened the lower doors. Curious, Calamity sniffed the tubes inside and sneezed as a puff of dust invaded her little nose.

  ‘Bless you,’ said Grunge.

  Crimson withdrew some of the tubes. ‘Put out your arms,’ she said to Grunge, then pulled out tube after tube, placing them in Grunge’s arms. ‘We’ll take them to the desk to look at them.’

  When his arms were full, Grunge walked over to the desk and let the tubes slide onto it. They scattered and rolled across the desk, causing Grunge to frantically grab them before they rolled off the edge.

  ‘Let’s start with this lot,’ said Crimson as she added an armful of her own to Grunge’s pile.

  Calamity decided that the tubes were boring. She walked into the pool of light and felt the warmth of the sun on her fur. She lay down and was soon fast asleep.

  Crimson and Grunge spent the rest of the afternoon opening each tube. Most didn’t contain maps, but had inside elaborate documents with old-fashioned writing. Many were building plans; some were proclamations of laws or rules long changed and forgotten; a few were maps. These few showed each of the lands individually, or the whole of the Land. There was a map of Home as it was more than three centuries earlier and a map which revealed that a great forest had once stretched from Forge to the Salvation River, where the farms of Myrmidia now were. But though some of the maps showed the rugged mountains to the north, there was no detail and no mention of the snowfield with the blue fire and the blue ice.

  As the sunlight faded, they had less than half a dozen unopened tubes. Calamity, bored and without the warm pool of sunlight, trotted over.

  ‘We’ll go soon, Calamity,’ sighed Grunge. He was disappointed that their search had been unsuccessful. ‘There’s no map of the High Mountains here.’

  ‘We still have some to check, Grunge. It’s here. I know there is something here.’ Crimson couldn’t explain why she was sure. She just felt it. She looked at Calamity. ‘We’re not having much luck choosing, Calamity. You try. Which one should we try next?’

  Calamity jumped up on a chair and looked at the tubes on the desk. Immediately, she touched one with her paw and tried to roll it towards her. Her paw slipped off the tube, sending it rolling towards the edge of the desk. Grunge caught it just in time.

  ‘You open it, Crimson,’ he said, offering her the tube.

  Crimson took the tube and prised open the end. She could see faintly the edges of the paper inside. It looked old and brittle. With great care, she slid the paper from the tube. She held one end of the parchment flat and unrolled it on the desk. The paper was old, very old. At the top, in ornate lettering, were the words “The Land”. Crimson and Grunge looked at the shape below the words. The image was faded and yellowed and, though not exactly the same as the other maps they had seen, there was no mistaking the shape. Nor the High Mountains in the north.

  ‘This must be one of the first maps of the Land,’ said Grunge. ‘It has the High Mountains but nothing more than we have seen on other maps.’

  Crimson studied the stained and faded map. ‘I’m not so sure, Grunge.’ She looked closer at the map. ‘We need more light.’ Crimson looked at the melting pool of afternoon sun coming through the window. ‘Let’s take it to the window.’

  The map crackled as they carefully lifted it and carried it over. The light highlighted the creases and brown stains on the parchment. One crease ran in a jagged line from the Salvation River. Crimson pointed to the crease.

  ‘That’s just above where Bourne Bridge is,’ she said softly. Her finger traced the line of the crease where it ended in a dark smudge, far up in the mountains to the north-east. ‘It’s a trail.’

  Grunge tilted the parchment, shedding more light on the dark smudge. The extra light showed the smudge to be two words, almost run into one by dust and age. The words took shape in the light. ‘Blue Fire’.

  ‘You were right, Grunge,’ said Crimson. ‘That’s almost exactly where you said it had to be.’ Excitement fired her eyes. ‘We’ve found it. We know where we’re going.’

  Crimson’s excitement made Grunge smile. ‘You were the one who had the idea of the maps, Crimson.’ His smile turned to a frown. ‘Though I’m not sure about this trail. It could just be a mark. It’s too faint to be sure. And even if it is, we don’t know whether we can use it or even if it’s still there.’

  ‘There are still a few tubes we haven’t opened. Maybe there’s another map.’ Crimson looked back at the table. ‘Let’s look before it gets too dark.’

  They had finished checking the other tubes by the time the sun’s light no longer fell through the window. None of the remaining tubes told them anything more. Crimson felt a tinge of disappointment but that didn’t overcome the excitement she still felt.

  ‘It proves Girth’s story is true,’ she said as they returned the last of the tubes to the cabinet. ‘There is blue fire in the High Mountain
s. And it must be possible to get there.’

  The delicate, aged map still lay on the desk. Gently, they rolled the paper and slid it back into the tube. ‘It’s not much but it helps,’ said Grunge. ‘At least we know for sure which direction to head in once we leave Bourne Bridge.’ He closed the cabinet door.

  They went back down the staircase and through the library, which was now dressed in a cloak of pale amber from the desk lamps and ceiling lights.

  Grunge stopped at the front door. ‘Calamity,’ he said, looking at the puppy, ‘how did you know which tube had the map?’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ the pup yelped. ‘It was the only one I could reach.’ And she trotted out of the door into the evening light of Home.

  *

  ‘Good luck, both of you,’ said Achillia. She and Beatrice had come to bid farewell to Copper and Dot. Achillia hugged the small engineer and then hugged his young apprentice. Beatrice stepped forward and added a hug of her own for each.

  The tank, and the sledge with its harness for Miniver, had been loaded onto the little freight carriage attached to the rear of the tram.

  The door slid open and Copper and Dot boarded the tram. As the door was about to close, Beatrice stepped forward and stopped it with her hand.

  ‘Crimson,’ she said to Copper in her rich voice, ‘she … puzzles me. And remember, the mountains can be dangerous, but …’ she hesitated before continuing, ‘… people can be treacherous. Watch.’

  At Beatrice’s words, Copper glanced at Dot, then gave a short nod of acknowledgement. Was he doing the right thing, he wondered, in taking Dot? The door slid closed and the tram glided on. Achillia waved goodbye. Beatrice stood and watched until the tram vanished into the horizon.

  Shift was waiting for them when they arrived at the border. As Dot and Copper pushed the sledge, the tank balanced on its flatbed, past the neon border sign, he shouted a cheery greeting.

  ‘Hello, you must be Copper and Dot. I’m Shift. Grunge said I was to wait for you.’

  Dot looked at the open, happy face of the driver and wondered why he was so cheerful. Myrmidots took their work very seriously and rarely laughed or smiled. That was saved for when the day was done and they rested with their family or friends. She found the cheeriness unsettling.

  The Myrmidots introduced themselves.

  ‘We’d better have a look at the back of the bus and see how we’re going to get the things in the back,’ said Copper. Shift sprang into the bus and opened the emergency door at the back.

  ‘Last five rows of seats will have to come out,’ decided Copper. ‘Stack them forward in the aisle.’ He looked at Shift. ‘I hope you don’t have too many passengers on the way.’

  Shift smiled. ‘They’ll make do. They all have laps,’ he laughed. Dot didn’t smile or laugh. She just went about the work she and Copper had to do.

  It didn’t take them long to unbolt the seats and stack them in the aisle between the empty seats. Then, with Shift’s help, they loaded the sledge and tank onto the bus. Copper and Dot threw their bags onto the luggage rack overhead as Shift took his seat behind the steering wheel. He looked at the bags on the luggage rack.

  ‘I’d put those on your laps if I were you,’ said Shift. ‘That’s two more seats you’ve taken up!’ Copper stood and reached for the bags when he felt a tug on his coat. He looked down to see Dot looking back at him without any expression on her face.

  ‘He was only making a joke, Copper,’ she said without humour. Copper blinked and stared blankly at Dot, then looked at Shift. He saw Shift’s wide smile and his normally sombre face erupted in a laugh. Dot glanced at Shift, then turned her unblinking eyes to the window.

  ‘Some day she’ll have to learn how good laughter can be,’ Copper thought.

  The bus made its way to Home, collecting passengers along the way. By the time they were halfway, the bus was crammed with Muddles. Copper and Dot had long since given up their seats. Dot had offered hers to a young mother cradling a young baby in her arms.

  ‘Oh no, dear, thank you, I’ll be fine. I carried this one for nine months. I think I can carry it for another hour or so,’ said the young mother. Dot just stood, leaving her seat vacant and finally the young mother sat down. For her courtesy Dot received a delicious piece of coffee cake with mocha icing which the Muddle had taken from her bag.

  ‘I made it myself at my sister’s. She’s just had twins and we were comparing notes. She did most of the talking though, having twice as many notes to compare as I did.’ The Muddles around her laughed. ‘Twins! Twice as many notes!’ one Muddle kept repeating, laughing until tears streamed down his face. Dot kept silent. She just munched her cake, stealing glances at the good-natured Muddles around her. She had never had much to do with Muddles before and the little contact she’d had had always been on business. She didn’t understand the good-humoured and easy-going nature of the Muddles.

  The bus rolled on towards Home. The passengers were stacked to the roof, even standing on the sledge and hanging on to the tank as the bus wheeled around corners. The fire station flashed by and a few moments later the bus came to a halt in front of the Common. The passengers tumbled out, crying out their farewells and heading for their homes.

  Copper and Dot were the last off the bus. Waiting for them were Crimson and Grunge and a tan-and-white puppy with perky ears. Crimson and Grunge greeted the Myrmidots warmly.

  ‘You must be hungry,’ said Crimson.

  Dot nodded. ‘Yes, I am a bit,’ she replied quietly and with considerable understatement.

  Copper agreed but looked anxiously at the bus. ‘Yes, thank you, but the sledge …’

  ‘Better where it is,’ said Grunge rather surprised. ‘No point taking it off now and putting it back on in the morning.’

  Calamity decided Dot looked like she knew how to scratch and she bounded over to the young apprentice. She raised herself on her hind legs and put her forelegs on Dot’s knee. Dot gave a little smile that quickly vanished. She bent down and scratched Calamity behind the ears.

  ‘That’s the first smile I’ve seen from her,’ thought Copper. Aloud he said, ‘That’s a lovely young pup. What’s his name?’

  ‘His?’ barked Calamity with a yelp of indignation.

  ‘She’s Calamity,’ answered Crimson.

  ‘Is she yours?’ asked Dot.

  ‘No. No one owns Calamity. She’s the fire station dog,’ Crimson explained.

  Dot didn’t understand. Oh, she understood what it was like not belonging to anyone. And she understood what it meant to be known only because of what you do, not because of who you are. But she didn’t understand that, for Calamity, they were one and the same. And she certainly didn’t understand that, for Calamity, not belonging to anyone didn’t stop her feeling that she truly belonged wherever she was.

  ‘Bright has food and beds ready for you,’ Grunge informed them.

  Copper and Dot strolled through town with the three Muddles. Copper chatting easily about Home and the times he’d been there before and the Muddles he knew. Grunge and Crimson assured him that Slight still made marvellous timepieces and would be glad to make one for Copper when they returned. The Muddles couldn’t help noticing that Dot didn’t speak. She walked silently beside them, staying close to Calamity and frequently reaching down to pet her.

  Soon, they arrived at their destination. Bright bid them welcome and promised Crimson and Grunge that she would look after their visitors following a bite to eat, she would show them to their beds and in the morning she would make sure that they were awake bright and early.

  Dot said little to anyone. She was angry at Copper for asking her to join them. She knew she would let them all down sooner or later. Yet she knew she would have been angry and hurt if Copper had not asked her, and that made her angrier still. Most of all, she was angry with herself for being angry.

  Bright was true to her word. Later, as Copper slid into bed, his stomach full with Bright’s generous meal, he reflected that only in Mu
ddlemarsh would a fit and healthy person be settling down to a well-earned sleep between the crisp cotton sheets of a hospital bed. He closed his eyes and was soon asleep, the small smile still on his face.

  Chapter 10

  Bourne Bridge

  Dawn was just waking the Land as Megan steered Beadleburg’s red bus down Home’s main street. The town was quiet in the faint morning light. Here and there, the day’s activities were starting. She could see the lights in the bakery, and a young Muddle ran to and fro, dropping bottles of fresh milk at every door. Through the window of the coffee house, Whist could be seen readying the kitchen for breakfast.

  A solitary Muddle sat on the wall of one of the bridges, feet dangling over the water and a fishing pole drooping from his hands. A small school of fish swam lazily around the pole. Occasionally one would tug at the line to make sure the fisherman hadn’t fallen back into his dreams.

  Although Brian had agreed to meet the others at daybreak, the eager Beadle had wanted to be at the Common first. He knew that the secret of any successful expedition was organisation, and he intended to ensure that this expedition was properly organised. There was the bus to pack, lists to be ticked off, heads to be counted and duties to be assigned. Being there first would show proper leadership, he thought.

  A mist hung over the Common, floating over the grass and weaving upward through the trees. Reflecting the morning’s delicate light it became luminous, spreading a diffuse glow over the Common. ‘A place of magical beauty,’ Aunt Mag thought, as she looked through the window of the bus. She wondered how many such joys she had missed in her life. ‘Already, I’ve got more than I expected by coming.’

  Megan stopped outside the Common and Brian felt relief that the others had not yet arrived. Megan opened the door and helped Brian and Aunt Mag unload the supplies they had brought. When all the provisions had been taken off the bus and piled on the road, Megan climbed aboard again. Standing on the bottom step, she waved to Aunt Mag.