The navigator by Eoin McNamee Page A

were still in the same place, but standing in front of them was Pieta. She was about fifteen meters away and she carried the whip of light casually at her side. The Harsh towered over her, so that she looked small and frail, but Owen could see that she was smiling a bleak, dangerous smile. The hand at her side moved quickly. Faster than the eye could follow, the whip of light swung back behind her. Owen gasped as it uncoiled, loop after loop, making a sizzling, whistling noise as it opened out, a living thing of deadly power.
    He saw Pieta adjust her stance and with unbelievable power and speed the whip flew forward. She laughed as fifty meters of writhing energy whistled toward the Harsh, hissing as it cleaved the frozen air. The end of the whip stopped just short of the two creatures and, as the whip cracked, Owen had to cover his ears to protect them from the deafening sound, which was followed by a flash of brilliant blue light that illuminated the whole riverbank. There was a smell like iron filings, which stung his tongue and the back of his throat.
    When Owen looked again he saw that the Harsh were floating slowly backward, their intense white forms somehow dimmed. He scrambled to his feet. Cati's eyes were closed. She was breathing, but there was a coat of hoarfrost in her hair and round her mouth. The whip cracked again. This time the Harsh dimmed and retreated. Owen
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    saw that the way to the tree trunk across the river was clear. He lifted Cati and half ran, half staggered toward the riverbank. He had to run between Pieta and the Harsh, and for a moment he thought he heard their cold whispering. Then the whip cracked once more, going over his head this time, the force of its uncoiling making him stagger.
    He reached the bank. The bearded man was now astride the log and he reached out for Cati. Owen dropped the unconscious girl into the outstretched arms, and with an agility that belied his size the man scrambled back across the tree trunk. Owen looked down at the water, shivering uncontrollably. He knew that he could not balance on the log.
    Suddenly he was hit hard in the back. It was Pieta.
    "Get across now," she hissed angrily. Looking back, he saw that the two groups of Harsh now stood together. This was too much even for Pieta. Owen felt the cold begin to stream toward them again and he scrambled onto the trunk, Pieta pushing him from behind. Owen threw himself forward and fell. He got up again but this time he slipped. First his foot and then his hand and then his whole body was plunging toward the dark water. He screamed as his foot hit the water, then felt Pieta grab one outflung hand. Effortlessly she swung him back onto the log and pushed him forward. Gasping and half blind from cold and terror, he fell off the end of the tree trunk and landed heavily on the ground.
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    Owen kept his eyes closed, allowing the fear to subside. His heart was beating wildly. When he finally opened his eyes he saw the Sub-Commandant, Chancellor, and Contessa. There were others standing behind, but it was the still form of Cati that brought him to his feet.
    "She will recover," Contessa said. "They attempted to freeze her, but they did not succeed."
    "No thanks to him!" the long-haired man said angrily, stepping forward. "He took Cati across the river to deliver her into the hands of the Harsh."
    "He tried to shield her from them, Samual," Pieta said, her voice ringing across the space between them. "She would now be frozen forever if it was not for him."
    "It's a trick," Samual said. "He's trying to fool you!"
    "That is enough, Samual," Contessa said, and a dangerous light burned in her eyes. "The young man has just escaped with his life. Now is not the time."
    "I saw what happened," Samual said slowly and deliberately. "I saw what happened when his foot touched the water! He couldn't hide the agony on his face."
    No one said anything. None of them would look at Owen except the Sub-Commandant, who fixed him with a level,