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Back Iron Winter Save as PDF
Chapters (89)
  1. Title page
  2. Contents
  3. Map
  4. ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. TWO
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. THREE
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. FOUR
  77. 70
  78. 71
  79. 72
  80. 73
  81. 74
  82. 75
  83. 76
  84. 77
  85. 78
  86. 79
  87. Afterword
  88. By Stephen Baxter
  89. Copyright

As the cold endured, all across the northern hemisphere, people began to look to the warm, to the south. Only to find, usually, that there was already somebody there.

23

The river rose, and rose. Walks In Mist, standing by the warehouse, drenched by the rain that had lashed down for days, watched in astonishment as the cargo ship lifted on the rising water until it stood high over its jetty.

This was the busiest inland port on the greatest river in the continent of the Sky Wolf. She had goods on that boat, cotton, a load of copper brought up from the south. She was supposed to be signing for them. The unloading hadn’t even begun. And still the ship rose up, as the river swelled with run-off. People stood around laughing at the sight. Even on the ship itself the crew were laughing, standing by the rail, watching the world descend beneath them. One man mockingly clambered on the rail, arms spread wide in the rain. Every one of them was soaked to the skin, dark hair plastered flat, clothing heavy with the wet; she couldn’t hear their voices over the hiss of the rain in the standing water.

Walks In Mist had never seen such a sight. She had an odd, sharp memory, of sitting in a bar in the Northland Wall with her friends, with Xipuhl and Sabela, both of them far away now. A midsummer evening when the wind had turned chill, and people had laughed at that too.

Now, with a great creak of strained wood, the ship tipped. The laughter grew uncertain.

The man who had been clowning on the rail fell. Tumbled in the air, arms waving as if he was trying to swim. Hit the jetty with a sound like a sack of meat dropped onto growstone. Didn’t move.

For a heartbeat people stood there, shocked to silence. Then some of the bystanders ran forward.

And behind them the ship tilted further, rolling out of its basin towards the dock. The strain on the hull was increasing: wood groaned, and ropes parted with a crack. The people who had gone to help the fallen man moved back, uncertain. A main mast snapped like a toothpick.

Walks In Mist saw what was to come, with terrible clarity.

She ran from the river, through the rain. She jumped back on her cart and ordered the driver to take her home, fast. The llamas trotted away, bleating in complaint at the rain that lashed into their eyes.

Behind her, wood cracked noisily, and there was a groan like a falling giant, and screams. Walks In Mist did not look back.