Royal Ransom (12 page)

“A fire would be nice,” I agreed. “As the sun drops the rest of the way the temperature is going to drop as well. But a fire's not going to happen.”

“Why not?” Andrew demanded. “Why can't we have a fire?”

“Do you have any matches on you?” I asked.

“Of course not!”

“A lighter?”

“No!”

“Neither do I,” I said. I'd left all my things back at the camp. “Victoria, how about you?”

“Of course not,” she answered.

“Then, no matches, no lighter, no fire. Understand?”

“But we
need
a fire,” Andrew said.

“I can't just snap my fingers and make a fire appear,” I answered.

“But perhaps there is a way that we can have a fire,” Victoria said.

“Didn't you just say you didn't have matches?”

“I don't, but I am familiar with some techniques for starting a fire without matches.”

I shot her a skeptical look.

“I read about it in a book,” she said reluctantly.

“You read about it in a book?”

“It was about survival in the bush.”

“Great. And what exactly did it suggest, that you bang two rocks together?”

“Not exactly. What I require is some kindling, like pine needles or really dry grass, and a stick and a shoelace.”

“I'm
sure
that will work,” I said sarcastically.

She ignored my comment. “I can use the lace off one of my shoes. And I think this stick looks about the same size as the one in the illustration in the book,” she said, picking up a stick from the ground.

“And how do that stick and a shoelace produce fire?” I asked.

“Rather than explain, why don't I provide a demonstration. Could you and Andrew gather some materials that I can use as kindling?”

“The only thing I'm gathering is berries,” I said.

“Berries?”

“From that patch we just passed. I'm hungry.”

“So am I,” Andrew agreed. “But I would much rather have something else to eat.”

“Then why don't you just ring up the butler or cook or whoever and place a special order? It's berries or nothing. You coming?”

He nodded.

“And you?” I asked Victoria.

“If you don't mind, I think I would prefer to attempt to start a fire.”

“You can attempt anything you want, but I think you're wasting your time. You should be thinking about putting something in your stomach and then putting your head down on the ground. The sun will rise in about three and a half hours. As soon as it's up we have to get going.”

“I just want to try,” she said.

“Knock yourself out. I'll be down in the berry patch. You coming, Andrew?”

He hesitated. “I was just wondering … isn't that where the bears are likely to congregate?”

“You mean, like, hang around?”

“Precisely.”

“There were none there two minutes ago when we passed through. I doubt there are any there now. But stay here if you want. It's up to you.”

I turned and started down the way we'd just come. I didn't hear any steps coming behind me, so I stopped and looked back. Victoria was sitting on the ground. She'd taken off a shoe and was removing the lace. Andrew stood over her, watching.

Fine, I thought, let them try to make a fire. More berries for me.

Chapter Twelve

“U
NBELIEVABLE
,”
I MUTTERED
.

I could just make out Victoria's outline as I stumbled along the dark forest floor—she was a silhouette against the light thrown from a small fire.

“How did you do that?” I asked as I reached her side. Andrew was lying beside her. He appeared to be asleep.

“The book was right! I used the shoelace to spin the stick, and the stick rubbing against the rock created heat, the heat ignited the needles and
voilà,
I had a fire! Impressed?”

“Impressed … but not surprised.”

“You
thought
I could make a fire?” she asked.

“Not really, to be honest, but somehow when I saw it I thought, if anybody could have done it, it was you.”

She beamed at me. “Thank you. Now come and sit down and warm yourself,” she said as she patted the rock beside her.

I stepped over the sleeping Andrew and sat down. The fire wasn't big, but it threw off a beautiful warmth. I felt it start to seep into my toes and work its way up my legs. There was very little smoke, and whatever there was certainly wouldn't be visible to anybody looking for us.

“Perhaps I should have come with you to gather berries. I am frightfully hungry,” she said.

I stood up, reached into my pocket and pulled out a partially squashed handful of berries. “Here.”

“Thank you,” she said as she took them. “I imagine I should save half for Andrew.”

“Don't bother,” I said. “I have a second pocketful just for him. And we can get some more in the morning.”

“I can't believe how good these taste,” she said as she put some of the berries in her mouth. “This might be the best thing I have
ever
eaten!”

“That's because you're so hungry.”

“And tired,” she said as she ate more of the berries.

“Go to sleep. You can at least get a few hours of shut-eye before the sun comes up.”

“Are you going to stay up?”

“Me? I'm going to try to sleep too.”

“But shouldn't somebody stay awake? Stand guard?”

“I need sleep,” I said.

She nodded her head. “Of course you need sleep. We need you to be alert to lead us to safety. I shall stay awake.”

“Nobody needs to stay awake.”

“But somebody has to be on guard.”

“We don't need a guard. Those guys aren't going to find us. They probably aren't even looking yet, because they expect us to return to camp tomorrow. And there's no way any wild animal is going to come this close to a fire. What we need is to sleep. Go to sleep.”

I slipped off the rock and snuggled myself into the ground, reaching under my back to remove a stone.
It certainly wasn't as comfortable as my bed—or even my sleeping bag—but it still felt good. I closed my eyes.

The side of me closest to the fire felt warm, while the other side, facing away, was chilled. I wished I had a blanket to pull up or a pillow under my head. It would have been nice to have been in my tent … my tent. Ray and Albert were in my tent, tied up. They would have given anything to have been here with me. My mind started racing, thinking about everything that had happened. Had it only been a few hours ago that we went through the rapids? A few hours since I saw Ray and Albert all tied up in the tent? A few hours since I found out that Nigel was dead? I sat up.

Victoria was still sitting on the rock. She looked over and smiled.

“It looks like only one of us is able to sleep,” she said, gesturing down at her brother, still dozing at her feet.

“At least when he's sleeping he's not talking,” I remarked.

“I actually like him best when he is only semi-conscious like this. Besides, if I were asleep I would be missing the show.”

“The show?”

“Yes, the northern lights. They are magnificent!”

I looked up at the flickers of green light playing in the sky.

“I didn't really notice,” I admitted. “I guess I see them so often I just don't pay attention.”

“How often are the lights visible?” she asked.

“About two hundred and fifty nights every year.”

“They were not visible last night, or the night before,” she observed.

“It's rare for them to not be out for three nights in a row. They're the reason a lot of tourists come up here,” I said. “Of course, this really isn't much of a show tonight.”

“It gets better than this?” she asked in disbelief.

“Lots. Brighter, bigger, and of course different colours. I think it's best when there are yellows and pinks and reds mixed in with the greens.”

“That would be amazing! I'd love to see that!”

“Maybe you'll see them tomorrow night. It depends on the conditions.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about the northern lights.”

“I know some things,” I said modestly.

“Could you tell me about them?”

I shrugged. “Sure. The northern lights, properly called the aurora borealis, are the product of the interaction that happens when solar flares send electrically charged particles that slam into the earth's magnetic field. Although the dancing curtains of light appear close enough to touch, they are actually occurring about one hundred kilometres above the surface of the earth.”

“That's all … very interesting,” Victoria said. “Although it does sound as though it came straight out of a textbook. I was hoping that, instead of a scientific definition, you might know some other things.”

“What sort of other things?” I asked.

“I was hoping for a story.”

“A story?”

“Maybe a Native creation myth?” she said tentatively.

“So because I'm Native you figure that I must know some myth about the northern lights, is that what you're saying?”

“I did not mean to offend you,” she said.

I sat down beside her on the rock. A small tongue of red cut through the green curtain. It did look beautiful. I looked over at Victoria. She was sitting there, eyes wide open, staring up into the night sky. Oh, what the hell.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” she asked.

“I can tell you a story. Just don't expect too much. I'm really not that good at this sort of thing.”

“Your grandfather was.”

“Yeah, he was a great storyteller and … how do you know that?” I asked.

“My father. He has so many fond memories of his time here. He's told me—many times—about the thrill of sitting around a campfire and hearing his guide, your grandfather, tell him stories. He said your grandfather was the best storyteller he'd ever heard in his entire life.”

I laughed. “And I'm supposed to compete with that?”

“I didn't mean to—”

“That's okay, no more apologizing. I'll try a story.”

I thought about my grandfather and the things he used to say, the way he told stories. There was no way I could duplicate any of that. I'd just have to try to be myself.

“The world—the place where we live—is made of land and sea and sky. The land and sea are surrounded by a deep ditch, sort of like a valley or a—”

“An abyss?” Victoria suggested. “An immense abyss?”

I shrugged. “Who's telling this story?”

“Sorry,” she said. “Please go on.”

“And the sky is not made of air or gas but of a solid material, an arch that hangs overtop of the land and sea,” I continued. “It is solid, except in one place. High in the middle of the dome is a hole. Not large. Not small. Just big enough to allow the spirits to rise up and enter the spirit world.”

I remembered the first time I heard my grandfather tell this story. We were sitting together—with my father— around a campfire, looking up at the northern lights. Just like tonight.

“Are you going to go on?” Victoria asked.

I took a deep breath. “And between the sky and the land and sea below there is a path. It is narrow and slick and dangerous, but it is the only way that the spirits can get from the living world to the spirit world. During the days, and even through the long nights of daylight through the summer, the path is brightly lit, and the spirits are able to find their way. But at night, with only the light from the moon and stars, the path is dark, and the journey for the spirits is dangerous. The lights in the sky are the torches of the spirits who have gone on before. They are lighting the path for the new arrivals. And in the light, the spirits still arriving can look up through the hole and see those who are already there. They are feasting on the best of foods and playing soccer, kicking around the skull of a walrus.”

“That's a wonderful story!”

“Thank you,” I said. And then I remembered something else my grandfather had said, and the way he had said it. “There's more. Listen.”

“Do you hear something?” she whispered anxiously.

“No, no, don't worry … it's part of the story.”

“Oh, the story,” she sighed.

“Listen. Do you hear that sound?” I asked.

“I just hear the fire crackling.”

“There's something else besides the fire. Just listen to the sky.”

Victoria turned her head so that one ear was aimed skyward.

“Do you hear it now?” I whispered.

“Is it a whistling sound?” she asked hesitantly.

“That's it. Do you know what that sound is?” I asked.

“The noise of the magnetic field being hit by the particles?” she asked.

“Now who's being scientific?”

She smiled. “Please go on.”

“The sound is the voices of the spirits in the afterworld. They are calling out, offering encouragement to those coming up the path. They are singing the songs of the elders.” I stopped.

“Is that the end?” Victoria asked.

“My grandfather told me that stories are never over,” I said. “I'm just going to stop telling it there. Maybe we should try to get to sleep now.”

“Will the fire continue to burn through the night?” she asked.

“Will it help you sleep better if you know it will?”

She nodded her head.

“Then I'll make sure it does.”

I got up to gather enough deadfall to keep the fire going until morning.

Chapter Thirteen

I
OPENED MY EYES SLIGHTLY
and then brought a hand up to shield them from the light. The sun was filtered through the leaves of the trees over my head. A thin column of smoke rose up into the blue, above the trees and high into the sky and—I sat bolt upright as it all came flooding back. Victoria and Andrew were curled up together on the other side of the fire. I jumped to my feet and started kicking dirt onto the fire, trying to erase the trail of smoke.