"Was that a cracking sound?" said Saark, going suddenly very still.
"Shh," said Kell.
They listened. Beneath, somewhere seemingly deep beneath, there came another series of tiny, gentle cracks. The noises were unmistakable, and this time in a quick-fire succession like a volley of crossbow bolts from battlements under siege.
"Should we run?" said Saark.
"A very bad idea," said Kell, softly. "We need to walk. Quickly. And I think we should spread out. Distribute the weight."
"I knew this was a bad idea," said Myriam, ice in her voice.
"Hold your tongue, woman! It's saved us three days' travel, and every day matters with those bastard vampires out there; or had you forgotten our purpose, so busy were you sticking your tongue into the dandy's foul mouth?"
"Let's just move," said Saark, holding his hands out.
They spread out, to a retort of more crackles from under the frozen surface of Balaglass Lake. This time, the sounds were nearer the surface; not deep down, like before.
"I'm frightened," said Nienna.
Kell said nothing.
They moved towards the iron-black trees, spreading apart, listening to the cracking sounds. Some were quiet, distant, deep below the surface; but some were loud, rising in volume suddenly until they made Kell's ears hurt. He increased his pace.
Saark was jogging, with Kell to his left, Myriam and Nienna to his right. Mary's hooves clumped the ice behind him, and he stopped, suddenly. He felt the ice beneath his boots shudder. Could the impact of Mary's hooves be making it worse? After all, there was some pressure there. Saark turned and stared at the donkey. Mary eyed him warily, and brayed, stamping her hooves as if to ward off cold.
"Whoa!" said Saark. "Don't do that, girl!"
"Eeyore," brayed Mary, as if sensing something beneath the surface of the snow, something like a predator closing in on them fast. Saark glanced up. Kell had made the bank, closely followed by Nienna. The bank was a muddy, root-entwined step, maybe waist height. Kell reached down, and hauled Nienna up to safety.
Saark started to run, then stopped as a crack opened in the surface before him. "Ahh!" he said, more an exhalation of horror than a word, and he took a step back. An evil, sulphurous aroma rose from the crack which zig-zagged before him. It shuddered, the whole toxic frozen lake seemed to shudder, and the crack grew yet wider. Saark ran right, where the crack petered out, and around it with Mary in tow still stamping those heavy hooves. Saark looked up, saw Myriam had reached the bank and Kell hauled her up a lower, ramped section. Her boots scrabbled and slid in the frozen mud. There! Mary would get up that! How did I get so damned far behind? What happened there? Are the gods mocking me again?
He ran for it. Kell grew closer, beard rimed with ice, face screwed into a mask of concern.
"Come on, Saark!" hissed Myriam.
More cracks rang out, like ballistae from siege engines; Saark pumped his arms, and Mary trotted obediently after him – and suddenly stopped, hauling back on the rope, rear haunches dropping, a strangled bray renting the air. Saark was jerked back, nearly pulled off his feet, and he whirled, scowling. "Stupid Mary!" he snapped. "Come on! Come on, damn donkey, or I'll leave you out here to sink!"
Mary shook her head, braying, and a shower of spit hit Saark like a wet fish. Saark moved behind the donkey, and slapped her rump as hard as he could. Mary coughed, shook her head again, and launched ahead with hooves flying over the ice. Saark ran after her, saw her scramble up the slope, just as the ice opened up before him and his boots sank in up to the knees. He screamed, flailing forwards, stumbling, fingers brushing the bank. And Kell was there, leaning forward, and their hands touched and eyes met. "Oh no!" whispered Saark.
Kell turned, fumbled with Ilanna. "Grab the axe, lad," he shouted, leaning out. But another crack rent the air, and Saark went under, and was gone beneath the surface of the frozen lake.
"No!" screamed Myriam, but Kell grabbed her jerkin.
"Whoa lass, you can't go in there!"
Chunks of ice bobbed, and Mary brayed forlornly. Snow began to fall from a bleak pastel sky, and they stood there on the bank, watching the chunks of ice, listening to more cracking sounds and praying for Saark. Kell grimaced. What had Myriam said? That the man's legs had eaten away after the toxins of the lake came into contact with his flesh? But maybe Saark will be lucky, thought Kell. Maybe he'll drown.
Myriam strained again, and Kell picked her bodily up, and moved her away from the edge of Balaglass Lake, her legs kicking, eyes furious. "Put me down!" she hissed.
Kell dropped her on the frozen forest floor.
"I'm sorry, lass." Kell shook his head sadly. "He's gone. He's dead."
There came a surge from the lake, and Saark appeared gasping and spluttering, kicking and struggling. "I'm not fucking gone!" he screamed. "Help me out! Now! This shit! It tastes like shit!"
Kell sprinted back to the slope, and lying full length reached out with Ilanna. Saark grabbed the blades, careful not to sever his own fingers, and Kell hauled him onto the sloped bank where he rolled, coughing and choking. Saark was covered in what appeared a thick, oily, black green sludge, and he coughed up some huge chunks which sat, quivering on the frozen mud.
"Fucking horrible! It was fucking disgusting!" He struggled, fighting with his wet clothes until he stood, naked and shivering on the icy bank. He looked at everyone. "What? What? Come on, get me some fresh clothes, will you? Out of Mary's basket."
Myriam found fresh clothes, and Kell grabbed handfuls of snow, scrubbing Saark's violently shivering body free of the lake's sludge. When he came to Saark's groin, he handed him a snowball. "Here you go, lad. A man's cock is his own business."
"Myriam," said Kell. "Build a fire. I'll find some water, we need to get the lad cleaned off. And Nienna, can you get some firewood? Good girl." He turned back to Saark, struggling into thick woollens, his fingers almost blue. "What the hell were you doing, lad, putting that damn donkey before yourself?"
"I couldn't leave her!" snapped Saark.
"Well, I hope she was worth it," said Kell with a scowl.
"She is. She is."
"We'll see if you still think that when your flesh is peeling off your bones."
"I'd forgotten that," shivered Saark miserably, and stared forlornly at his boots. They were leaking black dye onto the snow. "The whoresons! Those boots cost a pretty penny."
"I think you've got bigger problems than that," snapped Kell.
Soon they had a reasonably large fire burning, despite Kell muttering about visibility and smoke and announcing their location to every damn soldier, brigand, Blacklipper and cut-throat for a two league circle. Kell found a frozen pool, and cracking it with his axe, bid Saark undress once more and jump into the icechilled water.
"But why?" he whined, kicking off his trews.
"Get that shit off your skin. And out of your hair. Don't want to go bald, do you?"
Saark looked at Kell in absolute horror, and undressed with acceleration. However, it took a prod from Ilanna to get a squawking, flapping, very unhappy Saark into the frozen pool and he went under, and spluttered up, and scowled and cursed, swore and chattered. He scrubbed at his hair, muttering obscenities to Kell, to Mary and to the world in general. Then Kell hauled him out, wrapped him in a blanket and supported the shivering man to the fire, laying his clothes next to him.