Blue Fire and Ice (14 page)

There were two sets of oars, and Grunge and Crimson grabbed them. Before Crimson could slide hers into the oarlock, Reach took the oars from Crimson. ‘I’m stronger, Crimson. You watch the river. I’ll row.’ Reach slid them into the oarlock and rowed. Crimson moved to the front. She could see the robed figure draw back its arm and then Brian grab at the sleeve. Her eyes followed the trajectory of the glowing object as it plummeted towards the river.

The River Flow erupted around them. The small boat heaved and nearly capsized. One of Grunge’s oars was torn from his hand and was taken away by the current. Water sprayed the boat, filling the bottom. Crimson and Grunge stared in shock at the pillar of water.

They were still staring when they felt the water convulse as the object exploded beneath the surface. Their eyes were fixed on the towering fountain when the brilliant beam of light shot from the water.

‘Grunge!’ cried Crimson in shock. Her eyes felt as if they had been scorched. She could feel the heat from the light searing her eyes. She shut her eyes as tightly as she could. ‘Grunge! I can’t see!’ She was thrown against the side of the boat by the waves from the explosion.

Though he tried to sound normal, she could tell from the tone of Grunge’s voice when he answered that he had been blinded, too.

‘It’s OK, Crimson. It’s just the flash. It’ll pass soon.’ Grunge pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes as hard as he could. He took his hands away and tried to open his eyes. The pain made him shut them again. ‘Don’t open your eyes yet, Crimson. Wait a few moments.’ The boat rocked and water continued to spray into the boat. ‘Reach!’ he called. ‘Are you OK?’

Reach had stopped rowing and was using the oars to steady the boat. ‘I’m fine, Grunge. As long as I can stop this thing from capsizing!’ The boat continued to heave from side to side as it was beaten by the waves from the erupting water.

Brian’s whistle cut through the echo of the explosion. ‘That’s the signal!’ cried Crimson. ‘Three! He’s coming this way!’

In a couple of minutes, the current would carry the intruder to them. It would also carry him past if they couldn’t see to catch him.

‘Reach, open your eyes. You have to look for us,’ said Crimson desperately. ‘Look upriver. What do you see?’

Reach wanted to keep her eyes closed. The world seemed more balanced when she had her eyes closed. But she knew she had to open them. She could sense things but maybe some things slipped past her sense and she wasn’t going to let the intruder be one of them.

Reach opened her eyes. It took only a second to adjust to the moonlight. ‘There!’ she said in a whisper. ‘Just this side of the island. A figure in a boat. Coming straight towards us!’

The Muddles were in the very middle of the river. There was enough room on either side for the intruder to slip past and get away.

‘Row for the south bank, Reach,’ said Grunge. ‘The explosion was nearer the north bank. The water is calmer towards the south. He’ll go that way.’

Reach rowed, her strong arms working the oars without strain. She quickly brought the boat directly in front of the other. She could see the robed figure trying to change direction and use the force of the current to shoot past them, but Reach’s strength allowed her to match each shift in course.

The boats were just metres apart. The robed figure rowed furiously, casting glances over his shoulder at the approaching Muddles. There was no face, only darkness within the hood.

‘Grunge, can you see yet?’ asked Crimson.

Grunge tried. He forced his eyelids to open, trying to look at Reach. Pain shot through his head. It was not as bad, but it still made him reel. ‘No, not yet!’ he said.

‘OK,’ said Reach. ‘Listen! His boat is between us and the bank. In a few seconds we’ll be alongside. I’ll bring the boat right next to his. When you feel them touch, throw yourself to your left into the other boat. Grab him. I’ll be right behind you. Crimson, when I tell you, grab the oars. Just keep rowing upriver.’

The two boats were almost level. The robed figure was getting closer and closer to the south bank, trying to get away, but Reach stayed with him. He must have realised that the other two in the boat were blind and that Reach couldn’t do anything while she had to row, for the silence of the other boat was broken by a dry, hideous laugh.

The boats drew near, then touched. Grunge propelled himself upward and to his left, throwing himself blindly into the other boat. His shoulder crashed into the robed figure, knocking him from his bench and to the bottom of the boat. The suddenness of the attack surprised the figure. For a second, he lay stunned. Grunge flailed wildly, trying to get a grip on the person he couldn’t see. Then the figure knocked aside Grunge’s swinging arms and grabbed him by the throat.

‘Now, Crimson!’ yelled Reach. She didn’t wait to see if Crimson had grabbed the oars. The instant she stopped rowing, the boats started to drift apart. Another second and she wouldn’t make it …

Reach closed her eyes and danced. Her feet barely touched the wood as she flew from her bench. A leap that would have done any prima ballerina proud took her to the front of the small boat. With another leap she soared upwards over the water towards the other boat.

Reach had judged her leap perfectly. She came down with the lightness of a butterfly, immediately behind the robed figure who still had hold of Grunge.

Reach opened her eyes. Grunge was fighting desperately, the assailant tightening his hold on Grunge’s throat. Grunge’s attempts to wrench free were becoming feebler. Reach didn’t have much time.

She wrapped her arms around the robed figure, trapping his upper arms. Still he held Grunge. Reach squeezed and pulled, lifting both Grunge and his assailant. Still the figure kept his hold on Grunge’s throat. Reached tensed her muscles, then squeezed harder. She heard the gasp from the figure in her arms and sensed his hold on Grunge was slackening. She squeezed still harder putting all her strength into saving Grunge.

Reach was thrown off balance as the robed figure’s grip on Grunge broke. Quickly, she shifted her footing and held onto the thrashing figure in her arms. With a fury that frightened her, he kicked and flailed. But Reach held him fast, pinning his arms to his body. Grunge lurched from the bottom of the boat, gasping and coughing. He sucked in air in huge gulps, his throat burning. He looked up. The boat was headed straight for the bridge. It would be smashed to pieces if it ran against the stone support. He looked for the oars and spotted them at the bottom of the boat, just out of reach. He would have to leave Reach to hold the intruder while he rowed them to safety. He stretched out his hands to grab the oars.

A few metres away, Crimson faced the same peril. Although the current was weak, it was enough to make rowing across it hard work. Crimson’s arms ached; her muscles felt torn and ripped. She glanced backwards. She could see the robed assailant struggle in Reach’s arms. In the clear light of the three-quarter moon she watched Grunge straining at the oars to bring the small craft away from the bridge supports. She could see Reach’s determination as she held the assailant in her grip. The struggles from her prisoner grew weaker and weaker until finally, he gave up and hung limply in Reach’s arms. Reach didn’t relax. Crimson smiled to herself, knew that nothing could make Reach loosen her grip.

From the hospital, Bell came running. He had been inside when the beam of light had torn the sky and he had escaped its blinding flash. He dashed towards the jetty, glancing at the river as he did so. The sight of the ballerina, balancing in unison with the rocking of the boat and holding in her arms a hooded figure, stopped him dead in his tracks. Bell stared, then a wide grin creased his face.

‘I’ll be …’ he murmured.

The other Beadles staggered from the hospital. The beads of light swirling in their eyes were fading as they joined Bell. They looked at the river and stood stock-still. Then their disbelief turned to joy and they cheered in celebration.

Across the milky face of the three-quarter moon drifted a small cloud. Had the Beadles looked, they would have seen the peculiar cloud, in the shape of a large bird, silhouetted against the face of the moon. The Muddles felt its shadow and instantly all three looked up. Crimson was inches from the jetty. ‘Oh no,’ she whispered.

To the watching Beadles, it looked as if each of the Muddles was bathed in a cloud of shimmering gossamer. The dim light rippled around the Muddles, like the haze of a desert mirage. For a few seconds, each became a wavy, whirling blur. Then the shimmering light stilled and faded and the Muddles came back to normal.

Normal for a Muddle, perhaps.

Crimson looked at herself. Arms clad in the sleeves of a black dinner suit held the oars in place of her own. Slight’s arms. The legs stretched out from the bench on which she sat looked very familiar. Rock-star legs. Grunge’s.

Her oars had vanished. Where her own hands had been, Slight’s hands appeared, blurred and came together again, cupping something inside. Crimson opened Slight’s hands and a white dove emerged. The dove spread its wings, cooed once and flew off into the night. Her hands, whoever had them, held the oars. Without them, Crimson could do nothing as the boat was caught by the current and drifted downstream.

All through the Land, every Muddle felt the same shiver as they mixed. Grunge felt it the moment before his hands closed around the oars. He felt a fingernail catch on the oar, then snap. ‘Oh, bother, I’ve broken a nail!’ he said to himself. He glanced at his hand and saw long, thin fingers, one adorned with an onyx ring and another with a thin silver ring in the shape of a serpent. The fingers had long, freshly manicured nails. He could just make out the colour. A deep blue, with a small silver star in the centre of each nail – except the second last finger, which had a much shorter nail with a jagged edge. ‘Rather pretty,’ he found himself thinking. ‘Leaf is still in her blue period. I’ll bet she’s wearing matching lipstick.’

Much easier to make out were his legs. White legs, somewhat shorter than his own, that ended in very sensible white shoes. ‘I wonder whose legs Bright has?’ he mused. Then he had the oars in the water and was rowing desperately towards the safety of the jetty.

Things did not go well for Reach. The strong arms that held their captive were replaced by arms encased in a spacesuit. The robed figure felt the pressure lessen and made a desperate effort to break free. Reach struggled to hold her prisoner but she felt her grip weaken as the hooded figure struggled desperately. Sky was not as strong as Reach and the thickly padded arms of the spacesuit made it hard to keep her arms around her prisoner.

The boat rocked violently from side to side. Reach’s knees buckled and she staggered. Her balance was gone. From the corner of her eye, she could see the legs that had replaced her own. Patch’s legs.

Reach’s stomach rumbled and lurched. ‘And Patch,’ she remembered, ‘gets seasick …’

‘Grunge!’ she yelled. ‘Help me! I can’t hold him!’

The boat rocked sharply and Reach felt terribly ill. The legs beneath her crumpled. Her captive twisted and wrenched free as Reach started to fall. She had a brief instant to glimpse the face within the deep hood before the figure pushed her and she fell from the boat. The cold water closed over her.

Grunge shipped his oars and sprang just as the figure pushed Reach into the river. As he clutched at the figure, it turned and stepped sideways. Grunge missed, his momentum carrying him past the menacing figure. He turned, still trying to get his balance. The hooded figure snatched one of the oars and thrust it hard at Grunge. The oar hit Grunge on the shoulder, knocking him back. He felt the boat’s edge against his calves. Grunge’s arms flailed as he tried to stay upright. The oar speared towards him again and caught him in the middle of his stomach. Grunge plunged backwards out of the boat.

Crimson watched helplessly from her boat. With both Muddles in the river, the figure took up the oars and swiftly rowed past the bridge towards Crimson. It turned and faced the Muddle. For a dozen heartbeats it looked at her. Crimson felt the gaze like it was a hand reaching out and touching her. The figure spoke, in a voice high and thin, yet full of menace.

‘Sister. Sisters yet.’

It was a woman’s voice. Crimson stared, chilled by the words, as the hooded woman turned the boat downstream and rowed.

The Beadles on the jetty watched helplessly as the enemy they had in their grasp escaped with the current downstream. They looked at the Muddles with despair and disappointment. Shaking their heads, they turned from their neighbours.

Sky’s suit was very buoyant and Reach bobbed like a cork in the middle of the river, lying on her back, her arms stretched out, slowly drifting towards the bridge. Grunge doggy-paddled as hard as he could, thinking he would have to teach Leaf how to swim properly. And Crimson sat in her boat, her head in Slight’s hands, letting the river take her where it willed.

Far downstream, the hooded figure rowed round a bend and disappeared.

Chapter 6