The Voyage of the Unquiet Ice (24 page)

And perhaps the ocean heard them.

For the bergs seemed to lessen in number after that, and when twilight finally came, the
Chloe 4
was afloat still – as were the other three boats and the
Chloe
itself, following behind – uncrushed and unhindered, for all that their nerves were at a ragged end. Indeed, when the blackness began to lift, the fog, too, began to thin, revealing an ocean that was almost empty of the great hulking shapes, littered instead with lesser floes and broken icy debris. Staring up, Dow was astonished to see a dim few stars glinting through the high clouds.

His battered spirits rose. But there was something else in the sky, something strange; a crest of glowing pink was shining through the last of the fog, all along the northern horizon, like snow in a sunrise.

The light grew slowly. No sunrise came to the ocean, and never would at this latitude, not in winter. But the bright line in the sky increased, and at last there was no mistaking it. It was ice – a continuous crest of ice, lofted so sheer and high that it shone now in a glow thrown from beyond the horizon, the light of a sun that was rising far, far to the south.

Dow understood finally. He was gazing upon the heights of a mountainous frozen escarpment. They had come to the uttermost north, and before them stood the impenetrable barrier of the Ice Wall.

8. THE ISLE OF THE LOST

T
he boats were recalled, and the
Chloe
turned east, sailing in the very shadow of the towering cliffs of ice. The few remaining bergs that floated there seemed like shrunken things now; as inconsequential when set against the Wall as was the slush and flotsam that bobbed by the
Chloe's
hull.

Dow, though red-eyed and exhausted from his nights in the boats, refused all thoughts of sleep and stayed on deck to stare in wonder at the terrible escarpment. Its foundations were blurred by arctic darkness, but the climbing precipices shone more palely in the twilight as they rose, icy crag building upon icy crag, until far, far above, great sheer faces reared beyond the lower glooms to stand white and dreadful in the upper airs.

Highest of all, the Wall's topmost rim stood as a line etched against the sky, unbroken and undiminished as it stretched away to both the east and west horizons, but jagged and notched too, with great horns of ice thrust up and out like immense saw-teeth. A tremendous gale must have been blowing about those utmost pinnacles, for long plumes of ice crystals were streaming like banners from the sharpest horns – but so high was the rim that no sound or breath of those gales reached down to the dark, still ocean below.

It was impossible for the eye alone to judge such loftiness, but the
Chloe's
officers now set to work with their instruments, reading angles and calculating with pens and paper, and word of the result soon reached Dow's ear; the Wall reared three miles high above the sea.

Three miles! That was triple the height of the Great Plateau back in his homeland. Dow found the prospect both magnificent and crushing all at once; magnificent because such stupendous ramparts were a sight beyond anything he'd known before, but crushing because in comparison he – and even the ship on which he stood – felt insignificant to the point of extinction.

What could they possibly hope to achieve here? Over the preceding weeks, despite Fidel's descriptions, Dow had been imagining that the Ice Wall might be no more than a line of bergs across the sea, impressive, but able to be pierced by a determined ship. But now that he saw the Wall in all its true enormity, he recognised a barrier so indomitable that no man or ship – indeed, no entire people – could ever hope to breach it.

And yet the miracle was, the Wall was
already
breached.

For their goal was at hand, a testimony either to the accuracy of Vincente's navigation, or to the continuing good fortune that had favoured the entire voyage. A mere two hours sail east along the Wall, and against the flow of the warm current, the
Chloe
arrived at the current's very source. Just as had been reported by the earlier ships, and by tales and legends through half a thousand years before – there was a gulf in the Ice.

The twilight day had passed by then, and the blush of the upper cliffs had faded, but the night that now came on was not as dark as those previous. There was no moon, and a high veil of cloud hid the stars, and yet that veil was itself illuminated faintly, as if by those same hidden stars blazing coldly beyond, and cast just enough light over the ocean to catch on the ice and give the Wall a subtle glow. Hence was the gulf revealed; first as a shadow in the cliffs ahead, and then, as the
Chloe
drew near, as a rift that yawned blackly, as if the Wall had split clear from stem to tip and then been wrenched apart.

In time, the ship stood at the mouth of a vast fjord, a chasm – several miles wide at its entrance – that ran away north between walls of solid ice to vanish in the gloom. And Dow understood then that the Ice Wall was not a
wall
at all. Rather it was the outer escarpment of an entire continent of ice, a great frozen shield that capped the world. And the gulf was not a way
through
the Wall, but instead a crack opening from the shield's edge, and leading only deeper in towards the Ice's monstrous heart.

Vincente hove the ship to, then summoned his officers – and Dow – to another council in the Great Cabin.

This time there was an almost celebratory mood to the assembly. Dow could hear it in the talk and laughter around the table as the men gathered; some marvelling that they had come through the ice so wholly unscathed and found their way so unerringly to their objective; others theorising about the gulf, and about the warm current that flowed from its interior.

Might this truly be – came the question – the fabled North Way? How far might the gulf extend, and to what might it lead? There was much speculation about the fate of Nadal and his fleet, and whether they might be found within, but others were daring even greater thoughts. If there was warm water, then anything was possible. What if the gulf led all the way to the centre of the Ice – and what if open sea waited there? What if the pole itself was ice free? Did the
Chloe
stand now upon the brink of an historic discovery, to be the first ship to the top of the world? And what if
land
existed there?

Dow breathed it all in eagerly. The pole! In the tales of his childhood it had been merely a mythical place, a make-believe realm forever unknowable, where fancy could create whatever strange peoples and lands it desired. But it was one thing to imagine from afar that some exotic isle might exist at the world's top; it was altogether different to behold the freezing gloom and immeasurable weight of the northern ice, and to contemplate what might truly lie at the heart of such a wasteland.

Then Vincente – who'd been listening to all this from the head of the table – called the meeting to order.

‘Gentlemen,' he said reprovingly, ‘we have no time for self congratulation. We will stand in greater danger than ever when we enter this passage. Need I remind you that of the five ships that have preceded us to this spot, only one returned unscathed, and three are missing entirely.' He fixed the younger officers – who'd been the most free with their conjecturing – with a glare. ‘As for talk of the pole, that is not what we've come to find.'

Subdued murmurs of disappointment arose about the table. ‘But surely, sir,' ventured one of the lieutenants, ‘if the gulf truly does lay open that far, we would not refuse the discovery?'

‘We will indeed refuse it,' said Vincente, ‘if first we come across the survivors of Nadal's fleet, or their remains. Their location, or at least news of their fate, is all that we've been sent by the Sea Lord to discover. I tell you now, if we had the Lord Designate alive and well on board, I would turn back even were the pole in plain sight. This is not the time for raw adventuring, and I will risk no lives for vainglory. Understood?'

Reluctant nods came, and some sighs too of frustration – a sentiment Dow quite shared. Could Vincente really be so set on the strict intent of his mission that he was blind to the lure and mystery of the great gulf, and incurious as to where it might ultimately lead?

The captain continued. ‘On the other hand, we will extend the search as far as humanly possible, in effort to save our fellow mariners. We've seen no sign yet of the lost fleet, but it was in these waters that the
Bent Wing
's boat was found, and thus we will proceed inwards. And as the urgency of our errand has not waned, we will push on no matter the darkness. But we must be sure not to miss any piece of wreckage, and be cautious yet of bergs – to that end, the cutters will again be sent out ahead of the ship, as was done at sea.'

There were nods of approval around the table, and a few groans also from those lieutenants and midshipmen in command of the boats, faced with yet more endless hours in the freezing night air.

But then Nell, in her place at Vincente's side, stirred unexpectedly. ‘Captain,' she said, ‘when the cutters launch, I request permission to ride with one of them.'

Vincente frowned in reply. ‘Ride with them, Nell? What in all the great ocean for? It's hardly your place …'

The scapegoat's tone grew stiff and formal. ‘As appointed protector of this vessel – as she who alone is custodian of the
Chloe's
fate – there is no corner of the ship from which I am forbidden, be it even a cutter put to sea. The crux of our mission draws near, Captain, and if our good fortune – that so many here have noted – is to continue, then I should be foremost.'

More mutters came from the assembled officers, and Dow caught many glances that flicked thoughtfully between himself and Nell, as if weighing each against the other. The scapegoat was staking a claim here, he saw. Her request was a declaration that she – she
alone,
as she'd said, and not some New Island intruder – was the key to the ship's fate and fortune.

Vincente sighed. ‘Very well then. If you must.'

‘Thank you, sir.' Nell smiled innocently down the table to meet Dow's eye, and for a startled moment he thought she would demand a place on
his
boat. And what should he – what could he – say to that?

But then she added, ‘I will ride with Lieutenant Diego.'