Ironheart (18 page)

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.

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.’