By Royal Command (6 page)

After a few minutes they came to a large tree and James leant against it, letting it take the weight for a while. He checked that Miles was all right then pushed off again, gasping with the effort. Just past the tree, however, they hit a patch of loose powdery snow and James found himself skidding, unable to hold his line. He knew he would have to take a steeper angle or risk falling. With any luck, the extra momentum would hold them in a straight line.

He forced his skis round and they speeded up just enough to regain control. The line was taking them steadily closer to the cliff edge though, and a few seconds later they hit another loose patch of snow and James spun round until he was sliding backwards down the slope.

‘Hang on,’ he grunted, but he couldn’t stop himself. He had no idea how near they were to the drop and he was totally out of control. There was only one thing for it. He collapsed into the snow.

Miles screamed and in his agony kicked out at James, who got a knee in the face.

‘I’m sorry,’ said James. ‘I had no choice.’

‘I can’t go on,’ said Miles. ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’

‘Yes you can,’ said James. ‘You’d be surprised how far you can push your body when you have to.’

‘What would you know about it?’ said Miles. ‘This isn’t the steeplechase at Eton.’

‘Well, maybe it would help if we pretended it was,’ said James, trying not to let his anger resurface.

‘You’re going to kill me,’ said Miles.

‘Believe me,’ said James, ‘the thought has crossed my mind.’

Miles swore.

‘Look here,’ said James, ‘arguing isn’t going to help us at all. You can’t go on like this, and I must say I’m not sure whether I can go much further, so we need to think of another plan. Maybe I should leave you here and go for help.’

Miles suddenly grabbed James’s arm, a look of sheer hopeless terror on his white face.

‘No,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t leave me. I couldn’t bear it. You’d never find me again.’

‘It’s all right,’ said James, laughing, and pointing across the snow. ‘Look, we’re saved.’

7

White Death

A little way down the mountain, a wooden hut nestled against the rock face, its steep roof heavy with snow.

Ignoring Miles’s protests, James hoisted him on to his aching back once more and aimed for the hut. The pain in his knees and ankles had become so intense that his brain had started to shut it out and he almost didn’t register it any more, but they reached the hut without any further mishap and he lowered his charge safely to the ground.

Mercifully, the hut wasn’t locked, and James staggered inside, his legs shaking uncontrollably. A little later he re-emerged and grinned at Miles.

‘I think it’s a mountain rescue hut,’ he said. ‘It’s perfect. There’s a stove, blankets, beds, and some food and water.’

The look of relief that washed over Miles was almost comical. James put a hand under one of his shoulders and they hobbled inside where Miles collapsed on to one of the beds. James lit a lamp and busied himself with getting a fire going in the stove. He then put a kettle of water on top to boil before fetching some chocolate and hard sausage from the larder.

The two of them ate in silence.

‘What time do you suppose it is?’ asked Miles once his energy was restored.

‘It’s hard to know, with all this cloud around,’ said James. ‘I’d say perhaps five o’clock, maybe later. Whatever the case, it’s going to be dark soon.’

‘Do you not have a watch?’

James shook his head. ‘I’ve an old pocket watch, but I hardly ever use it. How about you?’

‘I had a wristwatch,’ said Miles, ‘but I must have lost it in the fall. Shame. It was rather valuable.’

‘All I know is it’s too late to try and carry on now,’ said James. ‘We should rest here for the night. Perhaps the weather will have cleared by the morning. There’s some kind of sledge here, large enough to take a man. I could take you down on that tomorrow. I assume there must be a fairly easy route from here.’

‘Should we not go now?’

‘No.’ James went to the window and looked out. A fresh snowstorm had settled in and thick flakes swirled in the air. The sky was completely blotted out by heavy clouds and it looked for all the world as if it was the middle of the night.

‘I’m shattered,’ he said. ‘And you’re in no fit state to be stumbling around out there in the dark.’

‘My leg hurts like the devil,’ said Miles, and James noticed that he still couldn’t bear to look at it.

‘I’ll see if there’s anything here to take the pain away,’ he said, and rummaged through the cabinets and storage boxes. He eventually found a first aid box that contained, among other items, a tin with the Bayer trademark on it. Inside the tin was a packet of aspirin. He gave two to Miles.

By this time the kettle had boiled and James made two mugs of beef tea.

When Miles took his tin mug, he was shaking all over, and, despite being wrapped in two blankets, he complained of being freezing cold. James realised that he was cold too. He stripped off his damp outer layers and hung them to dry on a chair back. His boots were soaked as well. He didn’t want to risk taking them off, in case he couldn’t get them back on again, so he propped his feet up on a stool near the stove and watched the sodden leather gently steam.

He closed his eyes. His head felt heavy as a cannon ball. It tipped forward and he was out like a light.

The next thing he knew he was being shaken awake by Miles.

‘What is it?’ said James, momentarily confused. ‘What’s the matter?’

Miles looked wild-eyed and feverish. He was using a broom for a crutch and had taken half his clothes off. He was running with sweat.

‘My leg,’ he said. ‘It’s burning up. I’m in agony. I don’t think I can stand it any longer. You have to get me down from here; you have to get me to a doctor.’

‘That would be crazy,’ said James, glancing at the window. It was pitch dark outside. The panes of glass might just as well have been coated with black paint. ‘You’ll be all right in the morning…’

‘No.’ Miles grabbed James and shook him roughly. ‘I’ve heard of cases, people with broken limbs, they get infected. I might lose my leg. I might die. I can’t bear the pain any more. I want to chew my leg off.’

James stood up stiffly and struggled over to the window. It seemed to have stopped snowing at least, but there were no stars visible in the sky.

‘If we go out there,’ he said, ‘the likelihood is that you will only come to more harm.’

‘Y-you said there was a sledge,’ Miles stammered. ‘Put me on it. Get me down from here, or I swear I shall die.’

James stared out of the window into the blackness.

What should he do?

Miles was becoming more agitated by the second. James didn’t want to risk being cooped up in this cabin with a mad person, and there was no way that Miles could get down the mountain by himself.

But to go out there? Into the night. With the temperature below freezing.

How many people had died on this mountain, he wondered. And what bitter irony it would be to die in the same way as his parents.

Miles groaned like a trapped animal and when James turned round he saw that he was struggling to get dressed.

‘It’s madness,’ said James.

‘I’m going,’ said Miles. ‘Whether you like it or not.’

James realised there was no arguing with him.

James dressed quickly in his damp clothes and found a torch, some climbing equipment and a rope. He lifted the sledge down from where it was hanging on the wall, took it outside and laid it on the ground. It felt bitterly cold out here after being inside the cosy little hut and James would have given anything to go back indoors, lie down under a pile of blankets and go to sleep.

Instead, he helped Miles into his jacket and secured one end of the rope round his waist. He tied the other end round his own chest. At least the two of them couldn’t get separated now, whatever happened.

James switched on the torch, put on his gloves and manhandled Miles outside.

‘There appears to be a path of sorts,’ he said as he lowered him on to the sledge. ‘We’ll just have to set off and hope for the best.’

‘Thank you,’ said Miles, gripping on to James’s forearm and trying to smile. James took the silver flask from the other boy’s pocket.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Miles.

‘I’m going to need this,’ said James, and he emptied its contents down his throat. ‘It’s going to be a long night.’

There were a few moments of burning, followed by a pleasant glow in his belly. This was it, then. There was nothing more he could do. He made sure that Miles was lying down safely. Then he grabbed the towrope on the front of the sledge and pulled.

The sledge jerked forward.

It was almost harder steering the sledge down the mountain than it had been carrying Miles on his back. It seemed to have a mind of its own and wanted to go everywhere except where James pointed it. He couldn’t work out whether it was easier pushing from behind or dragging it from in front, and took turns trying both methods.

The crude track wound backwards and forwards across the mountainside. For the most part it was covered in snow but there were stretches of bare rock where James had to haul the sledge along with brute force, its runners squealing and scraping. He forced himself not to think about how tired he was and doggedly plodded on, but all the way down he could hear Miles moaning. Occasionally, Miles’s whole body would jerk and he would cry out in pain. He was starting to ramble, spewing out endless random facts and figures…

‘The
Hahnenkammrennen
has been held every year since 1931… The highest mountain on land is Everest but the tallest mountain in the world is actually Mauna Kea, one of the Hawaiian Islands, which is nearly six miles high from the seabed to its summit. Because most of it is underwater, this is not commonly known… Commonly known… The second highest mountain is K2, or Qogir… The third highest is… is… Monte Carlo… The first men to try and climb K2 were Oscar Eckenstein and Aleister Crowley, who is known as “The wickedest man in the world…”. Commonly known… Perhaps he is not as wicked as Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan… Genghis Khan came from… came from… Monte Carlo… which is not commonly known… There is only one rule if you get caught in an avalanche: get your hands to your boots and grip your ankles, that way you can undo your skis so that you are not trapped under the snow… No two snowflakes are exactly the same…’

James felt like he was in some ghastly nightmare, staggering down a mountain in the dark tied to a madman. What bliss it would be to suddenly awake and find himself safely tucked up in his bed at the hotel. He started to laugh, and realised he was becoming light-headed with exhaustion and cold.

He was making some sort of progress, though; with every step he must be closer to the bottom, closer to safety. There were periods, however, when he seemed to lose all contact with reality and be walking in his sleep. He would come round with no memory of what he had been doing. Worryingly, these spells grew longer and longer until finally he came round only to discover that he had fallen over and was being pulled down the slope behind the sledge by the rope round his chest. He was too weak to do anything about it and tried to keep his face out of the snow until at last the sledge ground to a halt against some rocks and he slid down and bumped into the back of it.

They had lost the path.

Miraculously he was still clutching the torch in his hand, which had become a frozen claw. He stood up and shone the beam around. They were on a rocky outcrop. Below was a wide, clear patch of open snow, but to get to it, they would have to climb about fifteen feet down a cliff face.

That was out of the question. Miles could barely stand, let alone climb. There was only one thing for it: James would have to lower him down.

James sat Miles upright and tried to explain what was happening. Miles looked about himself feverishly. Whether he understood or not, James had no idea, and he yelled and sobbed as James lifted him off the sledge and shuffled him towards the edge.

‘Keep still, or you’ll only make it worse,’ said James, dropping the sledge down. It landed soundlessly in a soft cushion of snow and James hoped that Miles’s landing would be equally soft.

Miles eventually worked out what he needed to do and slid feet first over the lip on his belly. James let the rope out through his fingers, which had long since lost all feeling. Inch by inch, Miles scrambled down the rocks, holding his body clear with his good leg.

James was never quite sure how he did it, but at last the rope went slack and he shone the torch down to see the other boy sitting safely in the snow.

Now it was his turn.

Climbing in ski boots with numb hands is not easy, and twice James thought he was going to fall. The god of the mountains must have been watching over them that night, though, because soon he was sitting next to Miles with nothing but clear virgin snow ahead of them, sloping gently down into the valley.

However, as James stood up and took a pace towards the sledge, he felt the snow shift beneath his feet and he quickly threw himself towards the rocks and grabbed hold.

‘Be careful,’ he shouted to Miles. ‘The snow’s loose.’

He tried to pull the boy to the rocks with the rope, but Miles panicked and crawled away from him, his bad leg dragging behind him like a tail.

‘Stay still,’ James yelled. ‘It could give way at any minute.’

It was too late – the whole sheet of packed snow started to move, sliding down the slope like rushing water and taking Miles with it. A terrible thought struck James. They might have started an avalanche. There was no time to take in this information, though, as the weight of Miles’s body tore him loose. He was helpless. The snow moved faster and faster and then, with a sickening lurch, James went over another cliff edge and was falling in a cascade of snow.

He had no idea how far they fell, and was not aware of landing. It was as if time and space had simply solidified around him into a freezing black mass. He thought at first that he had died. He could see nothing and feel nothing. His body seemed to be weightless. He wondered if this was what the afterlife was like – an eternity of nothingness. Then slowly his senses returned and he felt a great weight pressing in on him from all sides, as if he was gripped in a huge fist. He couldn’t move at all. It was then that he panicked and tried to shout for help, only to find that his mouth was blocked. He shook his head and struggled to spit and felt something cold and rough pressing against his face.

It was snow. He had been buried alive by the stuff.

A terrible fear gripped him now. He was beyond rescue, alone beneath this weight of crushing white death. He wondered why he didn’t feel colder. Either he was too numb or the snow was acting like a blanket and insulating him. He tried to calm his mounting terror and take stock of the situation. He could breathe, at least. Some air must have been trapped down here, but with the snow pressing against his chest it was hard work, and he knew that the more he tried to move, the more oxygen he would use up.

Calm down, James. You’ve been in worse situations before and got out. You can do it again. Stay sane and think.