The Curse of the Ice Serpent (12 page)

‘The Qalupalik have taken Borys,’ Dakkar said quietly to Blizzard, ‘so Tingenek is the only one left who knows where the Heart of Vulcan is hidden.’

‘And if Tomasz has Borys then it’s an even deadlier race against time,’ Blizzard murmured. He fixed his eyes on the Inuit hunter. ‘Tingenek, you’re going to take us to the Thermolith by the quickest route possible.’

‘Ha-ha,’ Tingenek said, though he didn’t sound amused. ‘You’re a really funny man. Why would I take you? It is certain death.’ He waved an arm vaguely towards the dark shore. ‘The Qalupalik own the ice out there!’

Blizzard raised his arm and brought the sharp hook close to Tingenek’s cheek. ‘Well, I’m here right now and I own this. Either you die on this deck or you take your chances out there with us. What’s it to be?’

Tingenek licked his cracked lips and glanced from the side of the ship to Blizzard’s hook as if calculating his chances of running. Then his face spilt into a fawning grin and he opened his arms.

‘I see your point,’ he said, forcing a laugh. ‘I would be proud to lead you to the Heart of Vulcan!’

‘Excellent choice,’ Blizzard said, clapping him on the shoulder with his remaining hand. ‘Baines, put some loose bindings on this man’s hands and feet so he can’t run away. We haven’t a minute to waste.’

‘But … but …’ Tingenek stammered as Baines led him back down into the belly of the ship.

‘Dakkar, you go with Fletcher here,’ Blizzard said. ‘He’ll show you which supplies we need to bring down to the quayside.’

‘I’m sorry, commander, but you’re not going anywhere,’ the doctor said, polishing his glasses on his grubby shirt tails.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Blizzard said, blinking at the man.

‘Stand up,’ the doctor ordered.

Blizzard tried to get to his feet and gave a yell of pain, plunging forward. Dakkar caught him and eased him back on to the barrel.

‘That spear did more damage than you think,’ the doctor said. ‘And you’re still weak from losing that hand. You’d be a liability on the mission.’

‘Well, you could have put it a little more delicately, doctor,’ Blizzard said, swallowing down the pain and rubbing his leg. ‘I do take your point, however.’ He looked hard at Dakkar and then at Fletcher. ‘Dakkar, I’m going to have to rethink my plan,’ he said. ‘I need men to repair the ship and men to guard her but I do want to find this Thermolith. I can give you an escort of ten men led by Baines – do you think that will be enough?’

‘Georgia, Borys and I were going to find it with just Tingenek,’ Dakkar said. ‘Ten men will be more than enough.’

‘Very well,’ Blizzard said. ‘I think Mr Fletcher would be keen to accompany you too. But be aware that my men will only escort you to and from this cave. They won’t disobey orders and go off on some vengeance mission.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ Dakkar said. ‘We’ll find the cave and bring back the Heart of Vulcan – that’s all.’

‘Good,’ Blizzard said. He had begun to look paler, if that were possible, and Dakkar noticed a bead of sweat on his brow despite the cold. ‘Fletcher will show you where the supplies are, assuming they’re not all burned. Choose what you need and set off as soon as possible. There is no time to spare!’ He hobbled off to organise the marines, to his doctor’s despair.

‘Come on, Dax,’ Fletcher said with a sly smile. ‘I’ll show you the ropes!’

‘Dax?’ He stared at Georgia. ‘This is your fault! My name is Dakkar!’

‘My fault?’ Georgia said, perplexed.

‘Forgive me, your highness.’ Fletcher smirked, bowing with a flourish. ‘I’ll watch my manners in future.’

Tingenek bustled forward, escorted by two of Blizzard’s marines.

‘This mission is foolish,’ he said to Dakkar. ‘Tomasz will send his Qalupalik and they will pick the meat off our frozen bones.’

‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Dakkar said. ‘But we’ll give him a good fight either way.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Tingenek said, shaking his head. ‘There are worse things than Qalupalik out on the ice. We’re doomed.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE ICE FIELD

The first feeble light of morning broke over the quayside.

‘I hate the winter here,’ Dakkar murmured to Georgia. ‘The days are short and the nights are long.’

Commander Blizzard sat in a large wooden chair and stared at the depleted group of men before him. His pale face showed no emotion, although the scar that ran down one side of his cheek made him look as if he were frowning. Dakkar followed Blizzard’s eyes as he surveyed the men wrapped in sealskins and armed to the teeth.

Tingenek busied himself around the sledges and the dogs that were to pull them. With Blizzard’s permission, he had called on the help of some other local hunters. His two men were sombre and silent, their faces muffled under sealskin and scarves.

‘This is Igaluk,’ Tingenek said, pointing to the first man. ‘This is Onartok. Good hunters, good trackers. Not as good as me, of course!’

They gave a short bow to Blizzard and hurried off to lash the covers over the sledges and attach leather harnesses to the dogs.

‘Those dogs look like wolves,’ Georgia said, watching them warily. ‘Why don’t we get horses to pull the sleds?’

‘The dogs are powerful and strong and used to the cold,’ Fletcher said. ‘Some of the officers kicked up a fuss when Commander Blizzard told us to use them but he just pointed to the Inuit and said, “If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for us.” ’

Dakkar looked at the sledges piled high with food and tents. ‘They must be very strong,’ he said, ‘to pull all that.’

‘I wish I was coming with you,’ Blizzard said quietly. ‘But HMS
Slaughter
must be protected and repaired.’

‘We’ll keep our rifles loaded and our wits about us,’ Dakkar replied. ‘Tomasz’s creatures are still out there, waiting for us.’

‘Good luck, Dakkar,’ Blizzard said, giving him a salute. ‘Sergeant Baines will command the men but will take advice from you.’

A burly marine in red uniform stood to attention at the mention of his name and gave Dakkar a nod. Dakkar recognised him as the man who had tied Tingenek up after the attack. Baines seemed to be bursting out of his jacket, his ruddy face hidden behind a thick copper beard.

Tingenek waved his readiness from the front of the group and Blizzard called the men to order. Soon the party left the ramshackle clutter of huts and sheds behind and trudged out into the frozen wastes of the ice field.

The dog sledges raced ahead, opening a huge gap between them and the marching soldiers, but Tingenek walked at Dakkar’s side along with two guards.

‘You think I’ll go running off like a hare?’ Tingenek grumbled, pulling a furious face. ‘You don’t trust me.’

‘No, Tingenek, I don’t,’ Dakkar said.

Tingenek tapped his forehead. ‘You’re not stupid!’ He smiled.

‘The three hunters have a guard assigned to each of them, sir,’ Sergeant Baines said. ‘They’ll set up camp as we agreed. Our tents will be ready when we arrive and food prepared.’

‘You’re too clever for me,’ Tingenek said, giving a wide grin.

‘I think Tingenek is smarter than he acts,’ Georgia muttered to Dakkar. ‘There’s something about him I don’t trust.’

‘Well, he’s all we’ve got,’ Dakkar replied, ‘now that Borys has been taken.’

They marched through a rolling landscape that reminded Dakkar of the moors around the castle. He swallowed hard, thinking of the last time he had seen it, blazing and broken. He coughed and blinked furiously, hoping that the men who walked alongside him didn’t see.

‘You all right, Dax?’ Fletcher asked, genuine concern in his voice.

‘It’s Dakkar. And, yes, I’m fine.’

Gradually, as the day wore on, the rolling hills and coarse scrubby grass gave way to bare rock. They scrambled up piles of stone, silt filling their boots, but the white of the ice field glistened above them.

‘Once we climb up here we are on the ice,’ Tingenek said, beaming. ‘Then fun begins!’

‘Fun?’ Dakkar said.

‘Ice rivers,’ Tingenek said, grinning even more. ‘Cre­­vasses, mountains!’

‘It doesn’t sound like fun,’ Baines said, his eyes frosty. ‘Bloomin’ heathen land, if you ask me. One wrong move and the ice will be red with your blood.’

‘I will keep us all safe,’ the wily Inuit replied, narrowing his eyes. ‘I love my own skin too!’

He hurried forward, followed by Baines, who had fixed his bayonet to his rifle. But Tingenek wasn’t making a bid for freedom, just peering ahead.

‘That much I do believe,’ Dakkar muttered.

The land rose, rocks and gravel making climbing slippery and difficult. Finally Dakkar crested the hill and stared out, holding his breath in wonder.

The feeble daylight had almost died and Dakkar found himself staring out over a sea of ice. The wind-sculpted waves rippled on into the distance, where ice mountains and pillars pointed into the darkening sky. The ice seemed to glow pale and ghostly and, somewhere far off, a light flickered weakly.

‘Our camp,’ Tingenek said, appearing beside Dakkar and making him jump. ‘We must get there soon.’

Georgia struggled up the bank and stood next to Dakkar, gazing at the ice plain in awe. Soon Fletcher and the marines all reached the top and stood to rest for a second.

‘Tingenek,’ Georgia said, ‘is this the only way on to the ice plain?’

‘The eagles fly on to the plain!’ Tingenek said, licking his cracked lips. ‘Unless you can fly, this one is best for us. Other ways take days more! Come along, come along. We must hurry!’

Walking became harder as they crunched over the ice. The ground felt slick and uneven under their feet, making them slip and stumble. Dakkar’s thigh muscles burned. Conversation fell to a minimum as all eyes focused on the lights of the camp growing nearer. Dakkar grinned at the faint howling of the dogs.

‘That’s a sound I never thought I’d be pleased to hear,’ he panted to Georgia.

Finally they could see the triangular tents made from sealskin stretched over long poles poked into the ice.

‘Tupiq,’ Tingenek said, pointing to the tents. ‘They keep us safe from the cold.’

The sledges lay tied up with the dogs and a fire glowed inside each tent. The smell of a rich fishy broth made Dakkar’s mouth water as he headed for the tents. Baines barked orders to the other marines and they began taking position as sentries or stowing their gear into the tupiqs.

Dakkar shivered at the delicious warmth that enveloped him as he ducked under the door flap of his tupiq and stepped in.

‘This is a bit of all right!’ Fletcher said, barging in and warming his hands at the portable iron stove that sat at the centre of the tent.

‘Wrong tent, Fletcher,’ Baines said as he entered. ‘I think you’ll find your bed is in the other one.’

‘Oh, right, sir. Sorry, sir,’ Fletcher said, fumbling a salute and hurrying outside.

Baines winked. ‘He may be Blizzard’s little darlin’ but that don’t mean I have to put up with him,’ he said, listening to Fletcher arguing in the next tent with one of the marines about where his bed was. ‘Cheeky blighter.’

‘Like someone else I know,’ Georgia giggled, staring at Dakkar.

‘You’re insulting a prince of the blood!’ Dakkar said, but he half smiled.

Sleep didn’t come easily. The ice floor made everything cold and, even though the hide beds they had brought lifted them off the ground, the air was deadly chill. Dakkar lay shivering, hugging himself, in his sealskin clothes. When he dozed, his dreams were a horrible mixture of the burning castle, Oginski falling and Borys being pulled into the depths.

Dakkar’s eyes snapped open. A loud hiss had woken him up. Something was outside the tent – and it wanted to get in.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

NIGHT HUNTER

Dakkar lay frozen in his bed. The red glow of the stove lit the inside of the tent but gave little warmth. An occasional grunt or yawn drifted up from the hunched figures of the marines and Baines as they slept. Georgia lay in the bed nearest to him, her eyes wide open.

‘Did you hear it too?’ she whispered.

Dakkar nodded and eased himself up from the bed. The sound of something scraping across the ice made him frown. It was as if someone were dragging a large sack along the frozen ground just outside the tent.

The rifles lay propped against a rack by the door, loaded and ready to snatch up at the first sound of trouble. Dakkar inched over and closed his fingers round the barrel.

A muffled cry and the sound of boots stamping on snow outside made his stomach lurch. A single gunshot set the sledge dogs howling and sent marines spilling from their beds towards the rifle rack.

Baines jumped to his feet. ‘Dakkar,’ he called, ‘what is it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dakkar replied.

Hurrying out of the tent into the freezing night, ignoring the yelp of the dogs, he ran around the back of the tent to where he had heard the hissing – and stopped dead.

The only evidence of the guard was a pool of blood on the ice and the man’s rifle, broken in two. Dakkar turned his head away. There was no other sign of the attack apart from bloody smudges on the ice that trailed away into the darkness.