Blue Fire and Ice (33 page)

Truth be told, Brian feared that Grunge had rather understated the ice and snow. More than once, he was grateful for the sharp walking stick as his feet slipped and he stayed upright by stabbing the ground with his stick. ‘And he should have mentioned the wind,’ Brian grumbled, and shivered.

The wind was sharp and cut right through their clothes. It raced across the snowfield and slammed into the mountain. Looking for a place to go, it followed the line of the track, down into the gap between this mountain and the next. It nipped their cheeks and ears until they tingled with thousands of little pinpricks. Even Miniver felt it through her fur and wished for the warmth of her cosy den back in Muddlemarsh.

Copper was relieved when they rounded the curve of the peak and saw the track still stretching before them. It became steeper here, and more treacherous than before. It also narrowed, it was still wide enough for the sledge but Dot was forced to walk behind.

They stayed close to the mountain. Beyond the sharp edge of the track on the right, it was a drop straight down into a distant valley below.

Upward they trudged, their progress slowing with each step. The track was very steep now. Miniver strained in the harness. Her sharp claws found little purchase on the ice-hard rock and she was testing her grip at each step. Crimson watched her friend straining and called to the others over the noise of the wind.

‘We have to help Miniver. She won’t be able to continue soon,’ she told them. Grunge nodded. He and Copper inched back and took the ropes from the sledge. Dot leaned forward and applied the brake. Miniver felt the strain ease on her muscles and she lowered herself onto her haunches.

Copper and Grunge attached one end of the ropes to the front of the sledge and, from the other end, made a simple harness that fitted around their shoulders and under their arms. They walked forward until the slack in the rope was taken up, then nodded to Dot. Miniver rose from the track, Dot released the brake and the travellers moved on.

The day was swiftly coming to a close. Looking ahead, Grunge began to be concerned. He could see where the track levelled as the side of the mountain ran into the ridge. Once there, they would be able to rest and find a place to camp for the night. It was what lay between them and the ridge that worried the Muddle.

This last section of the track was a set of huge steps, like part of a giant’s staircase. They rose in a series of deep platforms, and were just long enough for Miniver and the sledge. What they had in length, though, they lacked in width. They were narrow, perhaps only inches wider than the sledge.

If they were careful, they would make it. While Miniver pulled the sledge up to the next platform, one of them, perhaps two if the platform was wide enough, would have to lift the back on to the platform behind her. But only while the sun still gave them light. In the dark, even with the torches, they would have little chance. And they couldn’t stay on the ledge for the night. Exposed to the bitter wind and the freezing night air, even Miniver would be fortunate not to perish.

They reached the bottom of the first platform. The sun hovered just above the tip of the mountain above them, casting a long shadow down the side of the mountain. Far below them, the valley already lay in darkness.

Copper and Grunge slipped out of the ropes and untied them from the sledge. Grunge studied the series of steps. They were too narrow for more than one person. ‘Crimson!’ he yelled. ‘Move everyone past Miniver and get them to the top. Then help Miniver up each of the steps. I’ll lift the sledge from behind.’ Copper opened his mouth to argue. Grunge stopped him before he could speak.

‘There’s not enough room for two, Copper. We need to find a place to camp for the night. Take the others up.’ Grunge smiled at the engineer. ‘We’ll all need some hot coffee.’

Copper nodded. He waited while Dot and Brian, the only ones behind the bear, cautiously sidled past Miniver and clambered up the first step beside Aunt Mag. It was hard work for the Beadles. Shorter than the others, the steps came up to their chests. Copper made a step with his cupped hands for them and Dot stood on the step above to help them up. Brian and Aunt Mag made it to the first step. Brian could see the uneasiness in Aunt Mag’s face.

‘It’s OK, Aunt Mag,’ said Brian, trying to reassure her. ‘There’s no water to fall into. It doesn’t matter that you can’t swim.’

Aunt Mag glanced over the edge of the cliff. ‘Yes, Brian. But I can’t fly, either.’

Step by step, they reached the top. Taking one last worried look at the others below, they went off to find a place where they could camp for the night.

Miniver stood on her hind legs and placed her front paws on the step above her. Straining the muscles in her powerful legs and guided by Crimson, she pulled herself up onto the step. As the sledge tilted upwards, following Miniver, Grunge used all his strength to lift its rear. Miniver moved forward, trying to bring the sledge fully onto the step. The runners screeched as they dragged across the edge.

Crimson, only a few paces in front of Grunge, was only a shadowy form as the night rushed to blanket the Land. Again, the three friends struggled at the second step. ‘Reach would do this easily,’ thought Grunge as his muscles worked at their limit. Another step, and then another. There were three more to go and Grunge could barely see Crimson, trying to ease the strain on Miniver. They were at the second last step. Miniver’s front paws reached for the one ahead and she pulled herself up. She felt the edge of the step against her chest and she brought a back leg forward and up, trying to get it onto the platform. Crimson’s hands were numb, the wind and freezing night air attacking them. She leaned forward to grab Miniver’s harness. Her foot stepped onto a patch of ice and as she leaned, she slipped and fell.

Grunge was just lifting the rear of the sledge when he heard Crimson’s cry. The sledge was wrenched from his hands as Crimson was thrown forward onto it. Grunge fell backwards, dropping the sledge. The sudden weight of it pulled on Miniver just as she brought her other back leg up onto the step. Her legs scrambled to gain a proper footing. She could feel the sledge pulling her backwards, threatening to send her plunging over the edge of the narrow track. Her claws scratched furiously, breaking the ice and scoring the stone beneath. Yet still the sledge pulled her back towards the precipice.

The weight suddenly eased. Grunge had managed to get to his feet and was struggling to arrest the sledge’s backward slide. Crimson picked herself up, and seeing Miniver battling to stay on the step, she threw herself under the bear. Putting her hands on Miniver’s bottom, she pushed.

Miniver lurched forward. Her feet firmly on the step, she regained her balance and pulled the sledge up onto the step. Crimson ducked and rolled towards the mountain, letting it pass over her. She lay on the cold rock, her heart pounding. Grunge’s face appeared in front of her.

‘Well, that makes a pleasant change,’ said Grunge. His elbows on the step, he had his face in his hands. ‘Normally it’s me who takes a tumble.’ Crimson looked at Grunge for a moment, then laughed.

‘Come on,’ she said, getting to her feet, ‘let’s get up this last step.’

Miniver stood on the step, slightly ruffled. Crimson squeezed past and hoisted herself onto the narrow path above. ‘Watch the hands next time,’ teased Miniver.

The last red rays of the sun fell behind the montain peak and the sky gave over to night as Crimson, Grunge and Miniver reached the top of the track.

The track merged into a ridge a hundred weary paces from the steps. The ridge was wide and flat, as if a mountain had once stood there and a giant blade had cleanly sliced off its top. Pine trees dotted the area, defying the wind and the cold. Glad to be walking on level ground, the three Muddles approached the ridge, listening for sounds of their companions. Miniver’s sharp ears heard the noise of the camp long before her friends spotted the glow of the fire off to the left.

Brian and the others had found a clearing where the ridge met the mountain they had just climbed. They had shifted the snow, and the lanterns and the fire cast a warm yellow light. At the rear of the clearing, with the mountain sheltering its back, Brian, Copper and Dot were erecting the tent. Aunt Mag was bending over the fire, making coffee. It looked safe and welcoming to Grunge and the others as they approached.

The area was almost like the courtyard of a lord or king who had his home in the heart of the mountain. The face of the mountain was of black stone. The light danced off small veins of white and silver in the rock and even in the night they could see the stone had a deep lustre as if its heart glowed. It rose above the tent like a dark sentry.

Copper saw them looking at the black rock. ‘Black marble,’ he informed them. ‘Though I’ve never seen its like. It’s beautiful.’

Crimson walked round the tent to the black stone. She removed one of her mittens and laid her hand on the surface. Immediately, she took her hand away. ‘It’s so cold!’ she exclaimed. ‘So cold it burns!’

Copper gave a sideways look at Dot, who held up a gloved hand and smiled. ‘Dot said the same thing,’ said Copper. ‘The rest of us were happy to take her word for it.’

There was something about the black marble that puzzled Crimson. Its coldness came from within.

The east wind that had raced across the mountains all day had turned to the west. It still tugged at the travellers but the mountain bore the brunt of the wind and protected them from its penetrating cold. With plenty of wood to burn, they had built a blazing fire. After eating, they sat in a semicircle around the fire, their backs to the mountain. They stared at the mountain opposite. Beyond it, a faint blue glow could be seen, even through the darkness of the night.

Grunge pointed in the direction of the mountain opposite. ‘We’re nearly there. That must be the mountain where the first avalanche happened to Girth and his companions.’

‘And the mountain of blue ice is just beyond it,’ said Crimson. ‘The ice. It glows. Even at night.’

They all felt solemn and quiet, awed by the prospect of the blue ice.

‘By noon tomorrow we should be at the snowfield,’ said Copper.

‘We could leave the camp set up and return here when we have the ice,’ said Brian.

‘I think we should take everything with us. It will be difficult going back the way we came, and we might see an easier way from the snowfield,’ said Grunge. He was thinking about Girth and his long journey back. Was it because he tried to find an easier way down? Or because he tried going back the way he came? Or was it something else?

‘Do you think she’s returned to Beadledom? It’s been eight days since Wave saw her. She could have made it here and back.’ There was no need to ask whom Brian meant.

‘No, I think she’s still here somewhere,’ answered Grunge.

Crimson said in a low but sure voice, ‘She’s close. I’ve been feeling her more strongly since we got here.’

‘Perhaps we should turn in soon,’ suggested Grunge. ‘We need to make an early start tomorrow. Best get to the snowfield and pack the ice as quickly as possible. We don’t want to spend a night out there.’

They were all exhausted from the day’s climb. None would need a second bidding.

Brian stretched and yawned. ‘Well, I shall get my bed ready, then.’

Dot looked at Brian and said innocently, ‘Are you going to put on those lovely pyjamas, Brian? It’s such a pity you don’t have a dressing gown to match.’

‘Oh, I do, but I didn’t bring -’ His companions managed to keep the smiles from their faces, but Brian noticed the gleam of teasing in their eyes. A flush of anger went through him. Then he remembered Megan’s teasing and his anger drifted away. He blushed and went into the tent, the good-natured laughter of his friends echoing around the camp.

*

Brian woke early, when the moon still held the sun at bay and the day’s light was misty grey. Quietly, he slipped out of the sleeping bag and put on his boots, coat and scarf. Tiptoeing past the others, he left the tent. Miniver, vigilant as always, lay sleeping in front of the flap and Brian managed just in time to hop over the bear. She opened a sleepy eye.

‘Sorry, Miniver. I didn’t mean to wake you. Just going for a walk.’ His hand darted out to pat her, then darted back again. ‘It doesn’t feel right patting a bear that talks to you,’ he thought. ‘Even if I don’t understand anything she says.’

Instead of a pat, Miniver got an uncertain smile, which she missed, for she had closed her eyes and gone back to sleep.

Brian walked to the northern edge of the ridge, leaving deep footprints in the powdery snow. He stood at the ridge’s rim, looking out at the dark outline of the mountains that continued into the distance. ‘How far do they go,’ he wondered. ‘Has anybody ever been to the last mountain? What do you find when you get there?’

A flock of birds rose from a tree to his left. He heard the beating of their wings as they flew to the south-east, as if to fetch the morning sun.

‘Have they ever ventured from the High Mountains? I wonder if any of them have seen Beadledom and what they make of it? Or do they stay here in the High Mountains, never going beyond these peaks? Perhaps they like staying where everything is familiar and nothing is unpredictable.’ He guessed that they never went far from these peaks. ‘After all, you can’t be curious about something you don’t know exists.’

Now these were very strange thoughts for Brian. He’d never had thoughts like them before. Like the birds, he liked being where he considered he belonged. His horizons were the borders of Beadledom and he was satisfied with those horizons. No, he was more than satisfied. He was content. And he wanted to stay that way.

The sun was now almost above the horizon. It was time to start the last short leg of their journey to get the blue ice. Brian started back towards the camp. He watched his boots sink into the soft snow. He looked back at the trail he had made. He stopped, then leapt ahead as far as he could (which, as he was a typically rotund Beadle, wasn’t very far). He looked again at his trail and laughed. Brian was just about to leap again when it occurred to him that he should be able to see the footprints he’d made leaving the camp. He scanned the ground around him but all he could see was unmarked snow. For an instant, Brian felt a small wave of panic. Then, through the trees, he spied the great black marble wall that rose above the camp. Feeling better now that he had his bearings, he stood on one foot and hopped as far as he could, leaving behind the trail of a one-legged man.