There were rocky black outcrops here and there, however, as well as hillocks that could conceal buried Maker devices big enough to block his view of the wagon. And Zluty would not have wanted to waste time lighting a fire when there were so few firenuts left. It was still very early so Zluty and the others were probably sleeping. Or was it possible that Zluty had decided to turn back? Somehow, Bily could not believe that.
He did not know how long Zluty and the diggers had been gone before the Nightbeast had torn open the awning, but it was strange that no one had cried out at the sight of the Nightbeast. They must have ventured further from the wagon than they had intended.
He was about to ask Seshla if she had seen them, when he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye down on the plain. He turned his head to look and caught his breath at the sight of a great golden bird skimming over a silver-grey river running North.
‘Hold tight,’ Seshla cried.
Bily obeyed as he looked over her shoulder. He gasped to find that the Nightbeast was approaching the wide mouth of a dark hole in the mountain side where the ledge path had collapsed. He could see where the ledge ran on the other side of the hole, but the hole itself was enormous. The Nightbeast stopped on the edge of it and its muscles bunched.
With a surge of terror, Bily understood that it was going to leap over the hole.
Seshla must have felt his fear, for she sent words straight to his mind.
‘Do not be afraid, Bily. The Great One has eyes that can see in the dark.’
And without warning, the Nightbeast leapt into the hole.
Nothing had ever frightened Bily more than that great falling leap into utter darkness. He was so stiff with terror that if Seshla’s tail had not snaked around his waist, he would have tumbled from the Nightbeast when it landed hard.
Then it leapt again and again.
‘Hold very tight, now,’ Seshla said and Bily obeyed, but this time, instead of springing forward again, the Nightbeast began to slide down. As they picked up speed, the air whipping past his ears grew icy cold and Bily huddled behind the she Monk, eyes squeezed closed, certain he would die of cold if he did not die of fear.
They seemed to slide into the chilly dark for hours, and Bily grew colder than he had ever been in his life. He could no longer feel his toes or his fingers, and fear had faded into a kind of numbness, by the time he saw light through his eyelids. He thought he was dreaming, but when he opened his eyes he saw a dim greenish light ahead. It reminded him of being under the water in the flooded cellar.
Seshla had flattened herself against the neck of the Nightbeast, so Bily had only to lift his head to see over her. He forgot his fear in wonder, for the light grew enough to see that they were sliding along a steep slanting tunnel of greenish ice. There were holes in the sides and overhead and he was astonished to see a little dark face look out fleetingly, its eyes shining and red.
As the light strengthened, he realised they were getting closer to the source. Finally the ice tunnel opened into a great chasm, then they were gliding over the surface of a frozen lake!
Looking up, Bily saw the light flowing into the chasm was daylight turned greenish as it reflected off the ice. His hands and fur had a greenish tinge, too, as did Seshla’s pelt. Even the Nightbeast’s pelt looked green.
They were going more slowly now, and Bily dared to sit up properly and look as the Nightbeast glided silently along the glittering passage.
‘We are nearing the end of the Mountains,’ Seshla said, her voice turned strange and hollow. ‘Soon we will come to the Coldway and that will bring us to the ice maze.’
Bily’s heart leapt, for surely Semmel had spoken of the Coldway. But they had travelled so fast on the back of the Nightbeast, that even if Zluty and the diggers had continued North, it would be many days before they reached the Coldway.
He comforted himself with Seshla’s promise that she and the Nightbeast would seek Zluty out once he and the Monster had been delivered to the wise ones.
Bily noticed that the greenish light was fading. He looked up to see the sky was clear but darkening. He thought he saw a star. ‘Has night come already?’ he asked.
‘Not quite, but soon the last day will end,’ Seshla replied.
‘Last day?’ Bily asked.
‘Before the Long Night comes,’ Seshla said. ‘But do not fear, we will be in the Hidden Place before the first ice blizzard comes.’
‘Ice blizzard?’ Bily said. ‘I thought they only happened in the mountains?’
‘In the South, the ice blizzards happen only in the mountains, but in the North once the Long Night begins, they leap down to ravage the land. No one can travel during the worst ice blizzards, not even the Great One.’
Bily thought in anguish of Zluty and the diggers. They were coming North, straight into the ice blizzards!
Zluty felt that he was flying, they were now moving so swiftly along the Coldway.
The wind had shifted and was now behind them, so that there was little the diggers had to do. Zluty looked around him and thought a vessel deserved a name, especially one that had carried them so faithfully and so far.
He asked the diggers if they could think of a good name, but they were too absorbed in the memory scents helping them to manage the vessel. It made Zluty feel lonely and miss Bily more than ever.
He looked over at the mountains which had become taller and much more jagged than those further South. He could not see any movement, but he had not truly expected to see anything. He turned East and felt a prickle of unease, for threatening clouds gathered on the Eastern horizon, stretching out long black fingers towards him.
He wondered if a storm was brewing. If so, they would need to get the vessel off the Coldway. The safest place to anchor it would be one of the large mounds of snow they had passed from time to time. That would offer some protection. He wondered how difficult it would be to remove the vessel’s wings and lay them flat on the ground.
He longed to suggest they stop, but aside from wanting to go on as fast as possible, he was afraid that Semmel would say they did not yet know how to stop. So he kept a close eye on the clouds and prayed they would reach the end of the mountains before the storm came, and that by then the diggers might have learned how to stop and where to find shelter.
They flew on and Zluty felt restless with nothing to do save watch the world rushing by. He decided to make a meal. He could not light a fire, so he rummaged in sacks and bundles to assemble a meal from the little that remained of their supplies.
When he called the diggers to come and eat, he half expected them to scorn his humble muddle of bits and pieces, but Flugal leapt down eagerly to scoop up some nuts and dried fruit and a bit of bread spread with leftover stew before carrying his food with him back to the rim of the vessel. Then it was Semmel’s turn, and she praised him for his cleverness in preparing a meal they could eat while they tended the vessel.
Pleased, Zluty brought his own food up to the front of the vessel where the diggers had settled themselves, and sat cross-legged on the bale of sweetgrass to eat it so that he could see out.
After he had finished, he found himself weaving into a song all the sounds of their journey – the sharp swishing scrape of the staves over the rough ice of the Coldway, the flutter and snap of different bits of the wing structure, the creak of a towrope whenever the diggers untied a rope and adjusted the wings, and occasionally, the sharp ting of metal when the little rings holding bits of cloth together struck the metal awning frame.
The song he was making and the fluttering golden wing device gave him the perfect idea of a name for the vessel. They could call it Goldsong.
He started violently when Semmel lay a paw on his arm. Instead of speaking, she pointed, and he turned to see that the black cloud had come forward in a dark wave, blotting out all the sky, save for a small patch of dark blue ahead of them, where a scattering of stars shone.
‘We must stop soonly,’ Semmel said.
‘Stop how?’ Zluty asked.
‘We will turn the smaller parts of the wings to catch the air and throw it into the biggest part from the front,’ Flugal called from the awning overhead. ‘That will stop the vessel, but I must do it with carefulness so we do not turn suddenly and go into the bank.’
A chill ran through Zluty at the thought, for the bank was now a good deal higher than it had been, and frozen solid. If they hit it going so fast, the vessel would crack open.
He was about to shout out to the diggers that they had better slow the vessel down, for the wind was getting stronger by the second, but when he glanced North, he was thrilled to see the end of the range! He hastened to the front of the vessel and looked out eagerly. He had not been mistaken. The end of the range was still a good way off, but at the speed they were doing they would cover the distance quickly. He looked back at the dark cloud swallowing the sky behind them, and wondered if they might be going fast enough to beat the blizzard.
Even as this thought came to him, Flugal shouted that they must stop the vessel. Zluty turned and watched, heart in his mouth, as Semmel and her mate wove their complex and effortless dance about one another, running lightly up and down the towropes, lowering or adjusting sections of the wings. At last the diggers spilled air into the great sail. There was a great snap of cloth and a slight jerk, then the vessel slowed swiftly, sliding to a smooth halt alongside the bank next to a great mound of coldwhites.
‘Push the vessel against the bank and anchor the staves,’ Flugal signalled Zluty, for it was hard to hear anything now over the howling wind.
Zluty did not waste time asking questions. He was still wearing his net socks and he leapt out of the vessel onto the ice and shoved it hard against the bank, then he began gouging up armfuls of coldwhites and pushing them over and behind the staves. When Semmel called him to come and help bring down the big poles, he saw they could be laid down flat along the length of the vessel without removing them. But the heavy rigging that held the largest wing section had tangled around the awning frame, and with the wind pulling at it, it proved impossible to free.
‘Leave it,’ Zluty shouted, for coldwhites were beginning to fill the air. ‘Untie the end and let the cloth flap. That way it can’t catch the wind and pull the vessel free.’
Flugal obeyed, giving the wildly flapping piece of wing cloth an anguished look, while Zluty pushed the side of the frame out so that it rested on the mound of coldwhites. Then he climbed onto it, unrolled the torn awning over it and tied it down. Finally, he jumped onto the mound to push stakes deep into it so that he could use the towropes to hold the awning flat.
By the time he had secured the awning and carried the bee urn and the moss balls down under it, Semmel and Flugal were burrowing into the side of the mound, creating a cave. It was well done, for outside, nothing at all could be seen now but the flying coldwhites that caught the light of the lantern Semmel had lit.
The diggers pushed blankets into the cave, turning it into a nest just large enough for them all to fit, and once they were in it, Zluty pulled a ground sheet up to block the opening. It was not a moment too soon, for just as he pushed in the last peg, a long shuddering roar shook the air, then coldwhites began striking the awning with such violent force that Zluty was glad the diggers had made a cave, for the awning might well collapse under such an onslaught.
‘The wind is blowing the coldwhites very hard,’ he shouted to Semmel.
‘They are not coldwhites, Zchloo-tee,’ she signalled gravely. ‘They are ice flowers.’
Only then did Zluty understand. The storm was not a blizzard – it was an ice blizzard.
Semmel nodded as if he had spoken his thought aloud, and said, ‘The Longful Night has begun.’
The Nightbeast glided from the mouth of the ice chasm into the open, and Bily saw that although they had reached the end of the stony black mountain range, ahead were more mountains covered in cold fluffs and rising up in great separate spikes against the dark blue sky, like the ghosts of mountains. Through the gaps between them, he could see two bright stars like mismatched eyes, just above the horizon, and realised it was verging on night.
The land beyond the white mountains stretched out flat and utterly featureless, save for the grey river that flowed past the mouth of the ice chasm, before turning to trace the inner curve of the arc of white peaks. Then it disappeared out of sight around the farthest peak.
Instead of racing North through the gap between the two ice peaks directly ahead, as Bily expected her to do, the Nightbeast ran at an angle that brought her to the bank of the river where it curved back on itself.
His heart juddered when the Nightbeast stopped to gather herself, fearing she would leap over it, but instead, she leapt into it.
At the last minute, Bily saw that the river was frozen! The ice was so thick that it did not even creak when they landed.
Once again the Nightbeast was gliding forward on her great soft paws, but this time she began to lope in a low, rocking movement that was part running and part gliding. As they passed the first of the white mountains, Bily was astonished to see that it was not a mountain at all but a great peak of ice. When they were passing the second ice peak, a thought struck him.
‘Seshla, is this the Coldway?’ he asked, gesturing to the ice river under them.
The she Monk looked back over her shoulder at him, her dark eyes sparkling. ‘Yes!’ she said, the word coming out in a puff of cloud. ‘It will bring us to the place where we must enter the ice maze.’ Her eyes looked past him and became wary. ‘Hold tight, Bily. We must go very fast now.’
As she bent over the Nightbeast’s neck, her pace increased. Bily bent low, too, but he could not resist looking back over his shoulder to see what Seshla had seen. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of a great black wave of cloud rapidly moving North towards them. He could see nothing of the land under it save a dim roil of smudged grey, and he knew at once what it was.
Ice blizzard! he whispered, and his fear for himself gave way to a far greater fear for Zluty and the diggers, for they had surely been overtaken it.
The Nightbeast was moving so swiftly that by the time Bily turned back to face the front, they were approaching the last ice peak. The moment they were clear of it, he saw that the Coldway turned to run straight North again.
Only then, as they raced towards the end of the Coldway, did Bily understand that the land truly did end. Beyond lay a black sea upon which floated pieces of ice. It ran as far as he could see and in the distance there were clusters of ice peaks rising up from it. The farthest was shrouded in mist.
It was to this cluster of ice peaks that Seshla now pointed, as the Nightbeast came to a stop at the end of the Coldway. ‘There is the Hidden Place,’ the she Monk announced.
‘Why is there so much mist around it?’ Bily asked, wondering if it was something the Makers had conjured.
‘The other peaks are merely floating mountains of ice, but the Hidden Place is a true island of stone, rooted in the earth, and surrounded by a ring of ice peaks,’ the she Monk said as the Nightbeast leapt from the ice river up onto the bank.
It was not really an answer, but before he could say so, Seshla turned and clasped her long strong arm about Bily’s waist. Lifting him like he weighed no more than a digger, she swung herself down to the ground, using only one hand and her clever hand-like feet.
When she set him down, Bily saw that she was gazing South, transfixed, and he turned to look. He had hoped with all of his heart to see the wagon with its red awning, but there was only the wave of black clouds closer than ever.
‘It is unusual for an ice blizzard to come at the very beginning of the Long Night,’ Seshla murmured, sounding troubled. ‘I do not like it. But have no fear, we will be safe among my people before it reaches us.’
‘But . . . Zluty . . . the diggers . . .’ Bily stammered. He was so distressed that his voice failed him.
‘The ice blizzard that comes is only a youngling.
It will not last long, and you have said that your brother is sensible and brave,’ Seshla said. ‘He and his companions will have found shelter.’
Her words calmed Bily, because Zluty was brave and very resourceful. And the diggers had the memory scents to help them. Even so, Bily wished he had seen some sign of the wagon from the mountains.
‘Now we must cross the ice maze,’ Seshla said.
But Bily hardly heard her, for he was gaping up at the enormous Nightbeast, which he now saw properly for the first time. She was shaped like the Monster, whom she had gently deposited on the cold fluffs. She was much bigger and less finely made, though maybe much of her rough bulk was her fur, for it was very thick, especially the great mane about her neck and face. The strangest thing was that her pelt was not black but pure white, and yet her pelt had been black, he was sure of it. Had he not named her Nightbeast because of her midnight pelt? Then he remembered it had looked quite green when they had been in the ice chasm.
‘Your fur changes colour!’ he cried.
‘It does,’ Seshla said crossly. ‘It is very annoying when we play hiding games because the Great One always turns the colour of her surroundings.’ She turned to say a rather formal sounding farewell to the Nightbeast.
‘Isn’t she coming with us?’ Bily asked, confused.
‘She will swim to the Hidden Place, for this early in Winter the ice is too thin to bear her weight,’ Seshla said. ‘There is an open passage through the ice floes further to the West, which she always swims along, to keep it open. As the Long Night deepens, the sea ice will freeze into a solid sheet and an open passage means the small swimming beasts can rise to get air without having to go far out from the mainland; and those that live on land can forage in the water to feed themselves. But for us the way to the Hidden Place is by means of the ice maze.’
‘You mean . . .’ Bily began, then stopped.
The Ice Maze Page 11
