Read Online The Book of the Sword (Darkest Age) by A. J. Lake - Free Book Online
Authors: A. J. Lake
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firewood bundles. Cathbar showed Edmund how to scoop a hollow in the snow at the lake’s edge and line it with thick branches before laying out charcoal for a fire, while Elspeth helped Fritha to peg together a set of short wooden rods from her pack as tent poles. Ahead of them, the evening sun struck glints from the ice and lit the upper slopes of the mountains. One peak stood out above the others. What looked like a river of ice ran down it to one side, glowing in the yellow light and making the rocks around it look black in comparison. Elspeth felt her hand throb.
There!
came the voice in her head.
‘Is that
Eigg Loki
?’ she asked.
Fritha nodded. ‘You can see the glacier running down it to the lake.’ To Elspeth’s surprise she started to hum. ‘It’s a song my mother sang to me when I was little,’ she explained. ‘It says,
Ice spirits in the glacier, water spirits in the lake; cold brothers
. It didn’t make me scared then because the tune was sosweet. But since my mother died, I don’t like it so much.’ She turned abruptly to the packs and started shaking out blankets to drape over the tent poles. Elspeth felt a sudden longing to go to the older girl and take her hand, to tell her about her own father, drowned so short a time before. But she felt awkward, and busied herself instead in helping Fritha with the tent.
They joined Cathbar and Edmund around the small fire, and ate some of their dwindling supply of bread and dried meat. Elspeth realised for the first time how hungry she was and thought longingly of fresh fish – but Fritha explained that they could not melt the ice as the fishermen did: the men did not light fires on the ice itself, but used hot charcoal in a metal pan with a long handle, which she did not own. They could try to fish if they liked, for tomorrow’s meal, but they would have to break the ice with knives, if they could. After the scanty dinner, Fritha found a spot where she thought the ice was thinnest, and Edmund gladly began to chip at it with his knife. But after a dozen blows, he looked up in frustration.
‘I’ve barely scratched it!’ he complained, looking ruefully at the pitted surface. ‘Elspeth, couldn’t the sword help us?’
Elspeth started towards him, but something held her back. She felt – what was it? A strange sense of reluctance, almost fear. Why shouldn’t she use the sword? She knew well enough that it could cut through anything.
Not this
, the voice in her head said.
Better not…
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Perhaps it’s not right to use the sword just to get food.’
‘Just!’ Edmund retorted. ‘What use is the sword to us if we starve to death?’
‘Right,’ Cathbar agreed. ‘Come on, girl; you’re not going to blunt it.’
Sword?
Elspeth asked in her head. There was a moment’s hesitation, and then the sword flared out.
‘Cut here!’ called Edmund, stepping back from his place on the ice and pointing.
Elspeth reached the spot in two strides and plunged the blade down. It sliced through the surface – like cutting meat, she thought. She brought the blade around in a circle and withdrew it, leaving a round hole like an eye in the scratched grey ice. Elspeth looked down in triumph, about to call to the others, but her voice died in her throat.
There were people in the water! Dim, drifting, near-transparent figures, their great eyes reflecting the cold light of the sword. They raised slender arms towards her, calling her name. No – not her name.
Ioneth
, the faint voices chanted.
Ioneth, come to us …
There were so many of them … all the way down to the depths…
Hands grabbed Elspeth’s shoulders and pulled her backwards. The sword flickered and died as she staggered, colliding with Fritha and Edmund, and sat down hard in the snow.
‘What were you doing?’ Edmund demanded. ‘Another moment and you’d have fallen in!’
‘Didn’t you hear …?’ Her voice trailed off as they stared back at her. Edmund
There!
came the voice in her head.
‘Is that
Eigg Loki
?’ she asked.
Fritha nodded. ‘You can see the glacier running down it to the lake.’ To Elspeth’s surprise she started to hum. ‘It’s a song my mother sang to me when I was little,’ she explained. ‘It says,
Ice spirits in the glacier, water spirits in the lake; cold brothers
. It didn’t make me scared then because the tune was sosweet. But since my mother died, I don’t like it so much.’ She turned abruptly to the packs and started shaking out blankets to drape over the tent poles. Elspeth felt a sudden longing to go to the older girl and take her hand, to tell her about her own father, drowned so short a time before. But she felt awkward, and busied herself instead in helping Fritha with the tent.
They joined Cathbar and Edmund around the small fire, and ate some of their dwindling supply of bread and dried meat. Elspeth realised for the first time how hungry she was and thought longingly of fresh fish – but Fritha explained that they could not melt the ice as the fishermen did: the men did not light fires on the ice itself, but used hot charcoal in a metal pan with a long handle, which she did not own. They could try to fish if they liked, for tomorrow’s meal, but they would have to break the ice with knives, if they could. After the scanty dinner, Fritha found a spot where she thought the ice was thinnest, and Edmund gladly began to chip at it with his knife. But after a dozen blows, he looked up in frustration.
‘I’ve barely scratched it!’ he complained, looking ruefully at the pitted surface. ‘Elspeth, couldn’t the sword help us?’
Elspeth started towards him, but something held her back. She felt – what was it? A strange sense of reluctance, almost fear. Why shouldn’t she use the sword? She knew well enough that it could cut through anything.
Not this
, the voice in her head said.
Better not…
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Perhaps it’s not right to use the sword just to get food.’
‘Just!’ Edmund retorted. ‘What use is the sword to us if we starve to death?’
‘Right,’ Cathbar agreed. ‘Come on, girl; you’re not going to blunt it.’
Sword?
Elspeth asked in her head. There was a moment’s hesitation, and then the sword flared out.
‘Cut here!’ called Edmund, stepping back from his place on the ice and pointing.
Elspeth reached the spot in two strides and plunged the blade down. It sliced through the surface – like cutting meat, she thought. She brought the blade around in a circle and withdrew it, leaving a round hole like an eye in the scratched grey ice. Elspeth looked down in triumph, about to call to the others, but her voice died in her throat.
There were people in the water! Dim, drifting, near-transparent figures, their great eyes reflecting the cold light of the sword. They raised slender arms towards her, calling her name. No – not her name.
Ioneth
, the faint voices chanted.
Ioneth, come to us …
There were so many of them … all the way down to the depths…
Hands grabbed Elspeth’s shoulders and pulled her backwards. The sword flickered and died as she staggered, colliding with Fritha and Edmund, and sat down hard in the snow.
‘What were you doing?’ Edmund demanded. ‘Another moment and you’d have fallen in!’
‘Didn’t you hear …?’ Her voice trailed off as they stared back at her. Edmund
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