Ironheart Page 13

  They pushed their way through the dense branches, searching for deep cover before the man on the ski vehicle arrived. As the forest closed in around them, they hid behind a thick bush and held their breath. A light dusting of snow fell from the branches above them, making India glance up nervously. When she looked back, the rider had pulled up and dismounted from his machine. He began to fight his way noisily through the whippy branches with his gun at the ready.

  The leaves rustled overhead again. This time India caught a glimpse of something moving swiftly through the branches. Her eyes flicked nervously from the man with the gun to the overhead canopy. Now that she looked more closely, she could see several shadows converging overhead. They were bird-black with no discernible shape. Streams of smoky darkness trailed behind them like ragged silk.

  ‘What are they?’ whispered India, her insides turning to ice. But there was no reply.

  She whirled around in a panic. Clench had gone.

  ‘Thaddeus, where are you? Don’t play games with me now!’

  All at once the shadows rushed silently and fluidly from the treetops. The man from the rig looked up and realized his fate a split second before the creatures fell on him. His screams were cut short amidst a hideous chorus of hissing and rustling that filled the forest.

  Her throat tight with fear, India watched as the writhing shadows swarmed over the man, completely blocking him from view Her legs felt as though they were stuck in thick mud and she was unable to move. She had always thought her father’s tales about living shadows were just made up to scare her but these creatures were real, horribly real. Part of her wanted to curl up into a ball and pretend this wasn’t happening but she instinctively knew that would mean death. ‘Come on, India,’ she said under her breath, ‘get a grip on yourself.’ She reached for her pendant and thought of Bella and her dad, forcing the panic to subside in her chest. Moving slowly, she stepped backwards as quietly as she could on shaky legs. The creatures ignored her and continued their attack on the hapless man. She took another step.

  She didn’t see the figure standing behind her until a pair of powerful arms wrapped around her and a hand clamped tightly around her mouth. She tried to scream and all she could think was that she was about to die alone in this forest and no one would ever know what had happened to her.

  But she did not die. Someone moved close and ‘Shh’d’ in her ear. She stopped wriggling and the hand relaxed slightly. It smelled of earth and woodsmoke. She turned to look at her attacker. He was tall and weathered-looking, with supple, leathery skin creased into hard lines. She was reminded of the men she had seen in Angel Town.

  The shadow creatures finished with their victim and his lifeless corpse fell to the forest floor. They moved away, making a noise like snakes sliding over one another. The tall man pressed a blackened finger to his lips and led her quietly in the other direction. But the path was dark and covered in forest litter, and when India stepped on a dry branch the shadows were immediately alert. They turned as one and began to weave back through the trees towards them.

  The man broke into a run, pulling India behind him. When she stumbled, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. The shadows poured through the trees after them like malevolent smoke. And, as if this horror was not enough, they began calling her name.

  ‘In-di-aaaaa.’

  The sound of a dozen hellish whispers chased her through the trees, clutching at her heart with fingers of ice. How did these foul creatures know her name and what did they want with her?

  They burst into a moonlit clearing where a young boy stood holding on to the reins of two teams of reindeer harnessed to sledges. The terrified, sobbing figure of Clench sat on one of the sledges with a fur blanket pulled up to his chin. The man dropped India on to the second sledge and snatched up the reins. He flicked the hindquarters of the reindeer and they jerked forward through the snow at a rapid trot. The shadows did not follow them but gathered at the edge of the trees so that India could still hear their ghastly voices.

  ‘They knew my name,’ whispered Clench. ‘How did they know my name?’

  India took a deep breath. If Clench was going to be a trembling wreck then she would have to make a show of being calm and in control. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘But they knew mine too.’ She turned to the driver standing on the back of the sledge. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘but who are you and what were those creatures?’ His attention stayed focused on the path ahead and he gave no indication that he had even heard her.

  ‘It’s the ice people,’ wailed Clench. ‘They’re going to tear us apart for fresh meat, I know they are.’

  ‘They’re not cannibals,’ snapped India, ‘and they just saved our lives, so keep your voice down.’ She tried the driver again. ‘Thank you for saving us from those things. But we need to get back to The Beautiful Game. Our friend Calculus is in terrible danger.’

  The two drivers said nothing and just stared straight ahead, sticking out the occasional foot to fend off a rock or a tree root that might break one of the sledge runners. India studied them closely in the moonlight. They appeared calm and focused. Both of them carried rifles, but they were ancient flintlocks that looked like they were only used for hunting. She gave up attempts at conversation and started to think about escaping. Even though these men didn’t look like they meant her harm, she didn’t want to find out the hard way.

  The sledge was light and delicate, lashed together from sapling wood and bone. It moved at a fair pace but she could probably jump off into the soft snow quite easily. But then what? She had no notion of where they were or how to get back to The Beautiful Game. Even if she did escape, there was every chance that she would run into those creatures again. As the bitter night took hold, she realized that all she could do was curl up under the furs and wait.

  A movement under the blanket surprised her and she realized that there was a sleeping dog in there, warm and thick-coated. She stroked it idly as her mind raced with the events of the last few hours. She was desperate to know if Calculus was still alive or whether her harsh words would be the last she would ever say to him. She buried her face in the dog’s soft coat and wept.

  After many hours the dawn broke: a pale, lavender line sending slanted rays through the trees. The dog yawned and jumped off the sledge and began bounding through the snow Now that she saw it in the daylight she recognized it as a Siberian breed she had seen in Angel Town, a Samoyed. She noticed it had different-coloured eyes, one blue and one brown.

  When they crested a low hill she saw a collection of conical tents, spread out by the edge of a frozen lake. Thin lines of peaty brown smoke rose from two of the tents but the rest appeared to be empty. There were no people to be seen.

  The sledges pulled off the main path and stopped at a tent that stood on its own among the trees. It was painted with elaborate reindeer designs and hung with bunches of sage and brushwood. The dog barked and ran inside while the drivers moved away to a respectful distance and began to talk in low voices.

  ‘Great. What are we meant to do now?’ griped Clench.

  India stretched her stiff muscles, seeking some small warmth from the dawn sun. The older driver pointed to her and motioned her towards the tent.

  ‘You want me to go in?’ she said uncertainly. She looked at the tent apprehensively and took a deep breath. It couldn’t hurt, she decided, and maybe she would finally get some answers.

  As she laid her hand on the tent flap, a tremor ran through the ground, dislodging small rocks and shaking the snow loose from the trees.

  ‘Another earthquake,’ said Clench, clinging to the sledge.

  Every dog in the village below began to bark and howl at once and the reindeer had to be calmed by the drivers. Then came the wind, a wild breeze rushing through the trees and flapping the walls of the tent. India had to shield her face against a blizzard of snow and pine needles. As quickly as it had started, the ground stopped shaking, the wind died down and it was quiet again, except
for the dogs, who continued to whimper softly.

  ‘Dear God,’ said Clench, ‘what was that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said India. ‘I don’t understand any of what has gone on tonight, or why we’ve been brought here but there’s only one way to find out.’ And with that she pushed her way in through the tent flap.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE SOUL VOYAGER

  Inside, the tent was dark, save for the flicker of a smoky fire that smelled of burning dung. In the furthest, darkest corner, India could just make out a pale shape that rose almost to the roof and then descended to the floor in two graceful, pointed curves. She realized it was a giant skull, broad across the forehead with vacant eye sockets and huge tusks. It belonged to a creature that had not walked on the Earth for a long time.

  A loud shriek behind her made her jump. Clench had stuck his head in the tent and caught sight of the skull.

  ‘Put a sock in it,’ she said. ‘It’s not going to hurt you. It’s a mammoth skull – it must be ten thousand years old at least.’

  There was a rustling at the base of the skull and a stick-thin creature stirred within a bundle of furs. India saw it was a woman, impossibly old and tiny, like a bird stripped of its feathers. She wore heavy amulets on her arms and a large metal disc on her chest engraved with a fearsome face. Thin strips of reindeer hide hung from a beaded headband, covering her eyes.

  Ignoring Clench’s nervous whimpers, India stepped forward. The old woman cocked her head and sniffed the air. Then she began to chant.

  The words came in a thick, hypnotic stream, rising and falling like the smoke in the tent. It sounded like no language India had ever heard and yet it was familiar, as if the memory of it lived somewhere in her blood. When the old woman stopped chanting India took her chance.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘My name is India Bentley and this is Mr Clench.’ The ancient creature unfolded herself slowly and shambled over to India. She carefully pulled back her beaded fringe, making India gasp. The old woman’s eyes were clouded with cataracts and yet India could see quite clearly that they were different colours; one was blue and the other was brown, the same as the dog’s. The dog itself was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Ask her who she is,’ whispered Clench.

  ‘I am Nentu,’ said the old woman in a voice like dry leaves.

  ‘So you-speaka-da-English then?’ said Clench loudly.

  India jabbed him with her elbow.

  ‘I heard,’ said India, ‘that there was once a Great Shaman of that name.’

  ‘I am the same,’ said the woman.

  India was puzzled. ‘But that was over two hundred years ago, before the Great Rains.’

  ‘And it was many years before that,’ said the woman, ‘when I first walked here.’

  ‘She’s off her head,’ said Clench. Now that he had decided there was nothing to be afraid of, he pushed in front of India and puffed himself up for a speech. ‘Look here, my good woman,’ he said, ‘my name is—’

  She silenced him with a claw-like finger. ‘You have many names,’ she said, ‘and they all hide who you really are.’

  ‘What I mean to say, madam, is that I demand to know why we have been brought here.’

  ‘Nothing has brought you here,’ she said, ‘except the choices you have made for yourself.’

  ‘I’m looking for my father,’ said India, pushing Clench aside impatiently. ‘He went missing near here.’

  The old woman shuffled back to the mammoth throne and retrieved a pipe from the furs. ‘This I already know,’ she said.

  ‘Then can you help me find him?’

  There was a long silence while Nentu drew on her pipe and blew out a plume of foul-smelling smoke that made their eyes water. ‘He passed through Uliuiu Cherchekh three seasons ago, on his way to the caverns of Aironhart. I have not seen him since.’

  India started eagerly at this news. ‘Can you show us how to get there?’

  Nentu wafted steam under her nose from a black pot bubbling on the fire and then added some bits of dried bark and leaves from her pocket. ‘I could show you and you might find him,’ she said, ‘but the Elder Spirit that lives beneath the mountains would not be pleased to see you. It does not welcome strangers.’

  India felt she was not making much progress. ‘I’m not afraid of spirits,’ she said.

  ‘Then you are a fool!’ said Nentu sharply. ‘From where do you think the Valleymen have come?’

  India recalled a distant conversation with Mrs Chang about Valleymen. ‘Are they the shadow creatures we saw in the forest?’

  Nentu nodded. ‘The Elder Spirit could destroy you in the beat of a bird’s wing if it wished. For a hundred generations, soul voyagers like myself have kept peace with it.’ She frowned. ‘But we soul voyagers are not as many as we once were and it has not been an easy peace to keep.’ Nentu drew in another lungful of greasy brown smoke. ‘But now we have need of the Elder’s help again. A bringer-of-death named Nibiru rises in the East and a man of blood comes from the West. Together they will clash in the Valley of Death.’

  India was struggling to keep up. ‘A man of blood? Do you mean Lucifer Stone?’

  Nentu watched the smoke rising in the tent but did not answer. ‘Very soon, the end of days will be upon us,’ she said. ‘Already the wild creatures in the forest are fleeing and iron has begun to cross the sky.’

  ‘Iron in the sky?’ said India, remembering something.

  ‘Now we must ask the Elder for help again. But it has never cared much for short-lives like us and much depends on the way of asking.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Clench, ‘what exactly is supposed to happen if this Elder doesn’t help us?’

  ‘Have you not been listening?’ said Nentu, curling her lip. ‘Then Nibiru will come and she will bring a winter that never leaves.’

  India’s head was reeling. ‘I’d like to help, but I still don’t understand. What do you want from us?’

  ‘Do you think it is easy to be over two hundred years old?’ snapped Nentu. ‘It is not! I have waited here for many years. I have extended my life with spells and magic and stretched out my life force to reach this moment. But now my magic is fading and it hurts my bones to be here.’ There was a bitter note in her voice. ‘A younger, stronger shaman must speak to the Elder in my place. Someone with the gift of a soul voyager.’ The cataract-clouded eyes passed over India as though they were seeing another world. ‘What of your mother?’ she said suddenly.

  ‘My mother?’

  ‘The gift of seeing comes from the female. Did your mother have the gift of knowing the earth? A way with creatures, a knowing of the seasons or a telling of the weather?’

  Something stirred a memory in India. ‘The weather and the tides,’ she said. ‘My mother could predict them by listening to the earth spirits. At least, that’s what Cromerty said.’

  The old woman smiled and opened her mouth in a silent ‘Ah!’. ‘Then you have the blood,’ she said. ‘And have you not been heeding my messages?’

  ‘Messages? You mean the dreams I had on the way here?’

  Nentu nodded again. She seemed to have made up her mind about something. ‘You have something of an untrained soul voyager. You will speak to the Elder in my place and, in return, I will tell you where to find your father.’ The sightless eyes gazed right through her. ‘You must promise it.’

  India looked blankly at Nentu. No matter how strange this sounded, she told herself, if Nentu knew where her father was then she would have to play along. ‘OK, if you show me where to find my dad then I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll speak to the Elder for you.’

  As she spoke there was another trembling of the earth beneath their feet. The old woman seemed unconcerned. ‘It is decided,’ she said. ‘Now you are expected. We must move quickly.’

  She went to the back of the tent and pulled on a piece of rope. There was a rustling of straw, and a baby reindeer, with fur as white and soft as new snow, clambered to its feet on long, wobbly
legs.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said India as Nentu led the animal to the centre of the tent.

  ‘A white reindeer is very rare,’ she said. ‘It carries strong magic. She will be your protector on the journey.’

  Before India could ask how that was meant to work, Nentu’s hand shot out and grasped her by the wrist. The old woman’s grip was strong. With startling swiftness, Nentu pulled a long pin from her hair and jabbed it into the end of India’s finger. India cried out and tried to pull away but the old woman held her firm and jabbed the same pin into the neck of the reindeer. She pressed India’s fingers against the animal so that their blood mingled in its fur.

  ‘What are you doing?’ stammered India. Clench had backed into a corner, his eyes round and unblinking.

  ‘This creature has now become your kujaii,’ said Nentu, releasing India’s hand at last. ‘It will stay here with me while you travel onward. When you are threatened by bad spirits, the kujaii will attract the danger on your behalf. If necessary, it will die for you.’

  India took a step back from the old shaman, holding her injured finger tightly to stop the blood. The reindeer moved closer and nuzzled up to her hand.

  ‘Is that it?’ said India in a shaky voice. ‘Will you tell us what we want to know now?’

  Nentu picked up her pipe again and blew a plume of smoke towards the roof, carefully examining the way it curled. ‘You –’ she turned to Clench – ‘desire wealth.’ Clench shrugged evasively. ‘If you travel to Ironheart, you will become wealthy beyond your wildest dreams for the rest of your life.’

  A slow smile spread across Clench’s face. ‘Are you sure about that?’ he said. ‘I’m quite rich in my wildest dreams you know!’

  ‘And you,’ she said to India, ‘will find your father but at a price you may not want to pay.’

  India felt frightened but also a little angry that she was still not getting any clear answers. ‘We’ve promised to help you, now tell me where my dad is,’ she said.

  Nentu pulled something from the embers that looked like a flat piece of bone from the shoulder blade of an animal. It was cracked and blackened from the heat of the fire. She laid it carefully on the floor and felt the cracks on its scorched surface with her fingertips. ‘The bone map will show you the way,’ she said. ‘This line here is the valley between the peaks of the Bird’s Foot Mountain. The track runs to the place of the fast-flowing river, here!’ She pointed to a blackened smudge. ‘There is Ironheart, where you will find your father.’