Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

Williams was examining the corpse with fine scientific detachment, though as a strong believer in the lingering independence of certain muscular functions he chose not to stray so near the jaws as had September. “Eye, mouth, and stomach. No waste space or organs.” He moved behind the nightmare, out of sight.

Ethan and Hunnar had joined September before the gaping mouth. “What more natural than that there be devils in Hell?”

Hesitantly, the knight reached out to touch the wet black skin. “Then you believe it a daemon of the underworld also?”

“Skua likes to fancify,” said Ethan. “There are similar, natural creatures living in the deeps of my own world’s seas. Some are bigger than this one, though none quite as outlandish.” As life-fluids ceased flowing within the body, the phosphorescences around mouth and sides were beginning to fade, lights and life going out together.

“This water is only part of your liquid ocean, the same kind of water that forms the ice above us, the ice that rafts chivan across, and that surrounds Sofold.” Ethan touched his torch to the floor, tasted of the water it produced. “Ice to liquid, just as you drink it aboard ship or back in Wannome.”

“Then the philosophers are right,” the knight said. “The inside of the world is fluid.”

Ethan smiled. “Oddly enough, that’s right; but the liquid is metal and not water. Williams can explain it better than I can.” He turned, called out. “Milliken?”

“This ends our exploring the sea.” September clipped his beamer back to his waist. “Next cousin of this mobile mouth we lure up is liable to be bigger still. What’re you yellin’ at, young feller-me-lad?”

“We can’t find Milliken. I thought he’d be studying this body, but…”

“Over here!” They looked to their right. The teacher was standing at the far edge of the cavern, where the ice gave way to sloping rock. As they moved toward him, he ducked back out of sight.

“Another cavern?” Ethan wondered aloud. Other Tran moved to follow them.

When they turned the bend he’d vanished behind, Milliken was still further ahead. The ice remained several meters from the gravel and stone.

“What is this?” September looked at the nearby ice wall curiously. “Another tunnel?”

“No.” Puffing, the schoolteacher had run back to rejoin them. “It seems to continue endlessly in a general northwesterly direction. In places the ice draws nearer to the island, in others it moves farther out. It may run around the entire circumference of the island.” He gestured back toward the now hidden cavern.

“At this depth, in this particular region anyway, volcanic heat from the island’s interior has spread outward instead of upward. We are probably at a level parallel to some horizontal flow of magma.”

“Then if we follow the curve of the island,” September pointed out, “we could come out under the harbor where the ship is moored.”

“Of what good is that?” asked Hunnar.

Ethan checked his beamer. “Our weapons are still three-quarters charged, Hunnar. We can cut our own tunnel upward. We couldn’t manage it through solid rock, but we’ve plenty of energy to melt ice.” He faced Williams. “Think you can judge when we’ve come near the Slanderscree, Milliken?”

“Dear me. I don’t know. The angle of our descent from the castle… I really don’t know.”

“Do the best you can. No matter where we come up, we’ll have a chance.”

When communicated to the rest of the crew, strung out back into the cavern, this information raised spirits considerably. Tran who had long since conceded soul and spirit to the Dark One found hope in the prospect of again confronting flesh and blood enemies.

The open corridor wound its way around the sunken shore. In one place the earth was so warm that the ice turned to black water nearby but the sailors refused to wade through it. Ethan and September had to use precious energy to cut a dry path upward through the ice, then down to the corridor again. They proceeded carefully. It wouldn’t do to lose contact with solid land and start cutting their way out into the enormous ice sheet which covered the ocean.

They rested, some of the Tran feeling confident enough to express a desire for food. Hours later, Williams said cautiously, “Here.” He raised his left hand, pointed upslope at a modest angle. “Cut here. If we melt our way upward at forty-five degrees we should come out beneath the ship.”

“How sure are you, Milliken?”

The teacher looked glumly at Ethan. “Not very.”

“An honest answer. I’ll start the cut, feller-me-lad.” September adjusted his beamer. After several tries he located the setting which best combined a fairly wide beam with enough power to melt the white ceiling overhead rapidly. Water ran beneath their feet, uncomfortable to Tran and human alike, if for different reasons.

Following immediately behind September, Ethan discovered his heart pounding harder than the climb demanded. His breathing was quick and heavy, his eyes darting around the circular tunnel. He found that shutting them relaxed his breathing and the hammering in his chest. Williams touched his booted foot and he jerked.

“Claustrophobic?” Ethan; looking back without opening his eyes, nodded vigorously. “Try not to think about it. Don’t think about anything. Think music to yourself.”

Ethan did so, dredging up a lilting popular tune from his adolescence. His heartbeat fell to near-normal and he discovered he could breathe without effort. Concentrate, he told himself. Concentrate on Merriwillya night a burning, a-burning, Merriwillya a-yearning. Not on the tons and tons and tons of ice over your head, below your hands and knees, pressing in on your sides, pressing, pressing…

He couldn’t take his turn at cutting. He didn’t freeze or faint, but the sight of solid ice in front of him while knowing there were hundreds of anxious Tran blocking any retreat was too much to handle. They showed Hunnar how to use the beamer and he took Ethan’s place, saying nothing as he crawled past the half-paralyzed salesman.

Fortunately, the tunnel lengthened as fast as they could climb. Intense energy kept the little stream flowing steadily around ankles and knees.

The time came when September turned off his beamer, started to trade places with Williams, and then paused to glance upward. “Light above… there’s light coming through the ice!”

Joyful shouts rang deafeningly through the tunnel, until the knights and ship’s officers thought to quiet their men. September looked sympathetically at Ethan.

“It’d be better, feller-me-lad, if we break surface after the sun’s well down. If you can’t take it, we can—”

Ethan settled his back against the tunnel wall, hands clasping knees, his head resting between them. “I can wait,” he said curtly. September merely nodded.

The information was passed back down the tunnel. Sailors settled themselves for fast sleep in awkward positions, while others worked overlong on cleaning claws and chiv, the only weapons they had.

Hunnar was talking in low tones with Elfa and below her, with Teeliam Hoh. Ethan, catching an occasional word, decided they were talking about what had transpired back in the castle. He turned his attention away from them, having no desire to learn the methodology of certain barbarisms. It was enough to have seen the scars and bruises on Elfa’s face and body, to have listened to the mental scarring of the royal consort. Bad dreams enough plagued him already.

When darkness above was assured, the sleepers were shaken awake. All torches were extinguished. “Let me.” September looked appraisingly at him, then exchanged places.

“Keep your beam short and low, feller-me-lad.”