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Fresh snow crunched underfoot as Lee sprinted up the narrow path. White smoke billowed with every breath; his lungs burned from exertion. The thinner air up here, high on the mountainside, didn’t help. Neither did the rifle in his hands, cold and heavy, or the weight of Hester clutching to the inside of his coat. But still he pressed on; the only thing on his mind right now was Lyra. He had failed her once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.
It had taken a mad dash from the crash site to get here, guided by Serafina’s words. Svalbard’s terrain was harsh and unforgiving, and by the time he had reached the remote laboratory all hell had broken loose. Below him the valley was still burning, panserbjørne fire-hurlers and Magisterium machine guns trading bloody fire.
Ahead the path opened out, turning sharply to run along a ledge. Below the whole battle was visible. One of the Magisterium airships burst into flames, plunging into the ice as he watched. He felt a spike of worry; Iorek was still down there somewhere, having returned to lead his troops after bringing Lyra up here. It was thanks to the old bear that Lee even knew where to head, and he couldn’t help the part of him that said he should be back down there.
“Lee! Wait!” Hester suddenly called, tugging at his shirt with her paws. For a moment he hesitated, before the sound of distant shouting filled the air. It was unmistably Lyra’s voice, carried down on the wind. He stepped around without a moment’s thought, out into the open, raising his gun in case of an unseen threat.
The sight that greeted him finally made him stop dead. Atop a small rise, right before the whole ridge gave way to a sheer drop, was the hauntingly familiar shape of an intercision machine. A mess of scientific equipment surrounded it, dials flickering and flashing. Both cages were occupied; the nearest one held the shape of a young boy, and beyond he could just make out the form of a rodent-shaped dæmon imprisoned in the other.
In the centre, haloed in the harsh glare of anbaric lights, was a man in a heavy fur coat. He was lowering the blade of the machine slowly, seemingly struggling with the thing. Even at a distance Lee could see the wild, triumphant gleam in his eye.
Finally he noticed another shape; at the side of the closest cage, hidden in shadow, was the familiar white coat and red hat of Lyra. She was crouched on the slope down from the rise, and seemed completely focused on the cage, desperately trying to force it open somehow. Something moved below her, and Lee felt his blood turn to ice as he recognised a dæmon in the form of a snow leopard circling menacingly in the snow.
He didn’t even think; he raised the rifle, aiming clean between the two cages, right up at the man pulling the lever. He knew how barbaric intercision was, and he knew whoever the man was, he was a threat. Hester buried her face in his coat, unable to watch. He took a deep breath and fired.
The crack of the gunshot rolled up the mountainside, echoing out over the ice. The man lurched back, hands stealing to his chest. The leopard-dæmon let out a howl of pain, collapsing over onto its side. It started to writhe in pain, while scarlet stained the man’s gloves and coat around his heart. His face twisted with pain and horror.
“No!” he choked, reaching again for the machine. But his legs gave way, crumpling beneath him, and he fell backwards. Lee could only watch as he toppled over the edge of the cliff, falling out of the anbaric glow and out of sight. The dæmon let out another howl, a mangled sound of agony, then vanished into smoke.
For a moment silence reigned. Lee finally looked back at Lyra. She was staring at him in shock and relief, as was the boy in the cage; seeing his face, Lee recognised the familiar features of Roger. He went to say something, but before he could Lyra called out.
“Come help me with this!” She scrambled up onto the rise, determination overcoming her surprise. He hurried over to help, nodding in affirmation. He started to climb, digging his feet into the icy ground, and in one move hauled himself up.
Before he had a chance to look around the sound of another explosion echoed, much closer than that had come before. He glanced back; the last Magisterium airship was trying to rise to their level, pulling away from the battle. It was burning in several places and its guns were silent; as it rose he could make out the crew silhouetted in the cabin windows, all but one frantically running about. A lone shape, the silhouette of a woman, stood within view.
Another fire-flinger shot struck home. The rear of the envelope burst in a ball of flame, aluminium skin ripped apart, and over the blazing fire and roar of aëro-engines Lee was sure could hear the sound every aëronaut feared: the hiss of escaping helium. The rear of the thing started to fall; the engine pods pivoted madly, trying to recover, but in vain. The fire was spreading too fast. With a screech of tortured metal another gas cell burst.
The twisted mass of silver swung out of sight, slamming into the cliff below the summit. The whole mountain seemed to shake; the machinery around the intercision machine sparked and flickered. One of the lights toppled, bulb shattering against the icy floor, severing the connection between the machine and the generator. A cacophony of metallic screeching echoed up the mountainside, and then all was still once more.
Lee looked back to see Lyra take a deep breath and turn away from the carnage, kneeling down in front of the nearest cage. He shook his head and stepped over, looking the machine up and down. Compared to the setup at Bolvangar it was crude; the cages looked repurposed, and the blade wasn’t even motorised.
The lock holding Roger in was large and imposing, though didn’t look particularly new. Lee doubted he could pick it, especially not in the bitter cold and half-darkness with no tools on him to help.
“Hester?” he called, looking down at the hare still nestled inside his coat. “Help me look for the key?” She squirmed up out of his coat, leaping down onto the snow.
“I don’t think you’ll find it,” Lyra said quickly. He looked over; she frowned at him, before glancing sideways towards the cliff edge.
“She’s right,” Hester added, reaching the edge of the precipice and rising onto her hind legs. Before her the snow was stained with a dark red smear that ran right over the edge. “He probably had it,” she continued, gesturing with a paw to the bloody snow. Lee gave a frustrated sigh; of course the man he’d shot would be the only one who could unlock the cage.
“Alright,” he said, stepping back up to the cage. There was still one more idea to try; breaking the damn thing. “Stand back.” Lyra shifted aside, while Roger scooted back from the door. Lee took his rifle in both hands, raising it butt-first.
“You’re not going to try that,” Hester said dubiously.
“Don’t really have a choice,” he shrugged. He braced himself, digging his feet into the snow, and swung hard. The butt hit the lock with a loud crack, the brittle steel cracking under the force. With a grunt of exertion he hit it again, striking with all he had. The lock gave way, outer body cracking open and spilling battered metal components out into the snow.
The door swung ajar. Roger was out like a shot, scrambling to his feet. He darted over to the other cage, crouching down at the corner; Salcilia scampered over, pawing at the bars. They started talking quietly; Lee didn’t try to listen in, but he got the sense Roger was reassuring her. He stepped up to the lock, ready to batter it like the last.
Salcilia shrunk back as he readied the rifle again, pressing right up against the side of the bars where her partner was. Lee swung; the butt clanked loud against the lock, but the metal held firm. He tried again, but still the lock refused to budge. Muttering frustratedly, he gave one final thrust and the cold metal finally gave. It crumbled all at once, shrapnel peppering the snow. He slung the rifle over one shoulder and carefully eased the door open.
The dæmon scurried out before he’d even finished opening the door. She scampered straight into Roger’s arms, curling against his chest. He gently wrapped his arms around her shivering form, before carefully getting to his feet and stepping forwards. His legs were still quivering; able to look at him properly for the first time since he’d arrived, Lee could see tear-tracks on his face glistening in the light of the Aurora.
“Thank you,” he said quickly, voice quavering.
“It ain’t nothing,” Lee said firmly, gently placing a hand on the boy’s arm. “You’ll be alright.” The poor kid’s jitters seemed to finally subside, and the worry on his face slowly turned to a sort of quiet hope. Lee gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry; I should never have let you two fall.”
“It en’t your fault.” He looked over to see Lyra stepping forwards, her face overcome with relief now that all the danger was past. Her expression broke out into a small, hopeful smile as she reached out, wrapping her arms tightly around Lee's midsection. He put his own arms around her, gently returning the hug. Roger awkwardly glanced between them and stepped back, not wanting to intrude.
The embrace lasted a few seconds before she loosened her grip, looking up as Pantalaimon and Hester both scampered over. “How did you find us?”
“Serafina,” he explained. “She said you’d need me; I ain’t stopped travelling since the crash.”
“I see,” she breathed, stepping back, “I’m glad.”
He nodded, gaze glancing past her and down to where Hester stood. Behind her he caught sight again of the bloody trail in the snow, left behind by his shot. It was an uncomfortable reminder of what might have happened if he hadn’t made it.
“Who was that?” he asked, raising one gloved hand in the direction of the precipice. Roger shuffled uncomfortably. Lyra looked down, Pan suddenly very close to her side.
“Lord Asriel,” she said, voice suddenly laden with bitter disdain. It was worlds apart from how she had spoken of her uncle in the balloon, all admiration and excitement. Lee went to say something, but she cut him off. “My father.”
He sucked in a breath as the revelation sank in. It settled like an icy pit in his stomach; deserved though it seemed, he had just shot and killed her father in front of her. He crouched down, bringing his eyes level with hers, and spoke gingerly.
“I’m sorry-”
“Don’t be,” she cut him off, her tone firm, “He weren’t my father in any way that matters.” He could tell by her voice alone that she felt no love for the man, only resentment for what he had tried to do. For a moment she stayed quiet; Lee gently placed an arm on her shoulder. “It’s funny,” she continued dryly, “He always told me my parents died in an airship accident,” she suddenly looked up, and he followed her gaze down to the valley below, littered with the still-burning wrecks of Magisterium airships. “He ended up half-right.”
The image of the doomed airship that had tried to reach the summit shot to the forefront of his mind. He thought of the silhouetted figure in the cabin; had that been her mother? If that was the case, then she was truly alone as far as family went. The thought tugged uncomfortably somewhere in his chest.
“Where will you go next?” she asked quietly.
“Well first of all I’ll see you two home,” he began. “Nearest port to here’s an old whaling town called Smeerensburg, if I remember. Hopefully Iorek can give us a lift there; should be able to catch a boat from there to Spitsbergen and then travel on south by air.” He looked over at Roger; the boy looked a little uncertain, but a lot better than he had before. “Will you be safe back with your family?”
“I don’t know,” the boy admitted, shrugging helplessly, “I hope so; I don’t think the Magisterium knows I was here.”
“And they ain’t likely to try taking children again,” Lee reassured, “Not once word of all that gets out.” Roger nodded briskly, seeming to relax a bit.
“What will you do afterwards?” Lyra asked.
“After that?” Lee raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Most likely I’ll head back to Texas, try and find work with old friends there. It’ll take some earning before I can afford to fly again, but I ain’t planning to stay grounded.”
She nodded in understanding, but he could tell something was off with her. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and from the look on her face he got the sense she still had questions. Pan had climbed up onto her shoulder but seemed unable to sit still, shifting uncomfortably.
“I could go with you,” she said hopefully. He didn’t reply, caught off-guard by the suggestion. He knew he cared for her, but the idea of her living with him had never crossed his mind. Even so, deep down he knew he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.
“As a ward?” he asked somewhat cautiously. She nodded. “You’d want to stay with me? I ain’t exactly been taking good care of you so far.”
“You saved me,” she countered, “And I already said the cliff-ghasts en’t your fault.” Her expression shifted, and when she spoke again her voice was oddly flat. “I en’t sure I could go back to Oxford,” she explained quickly. “Even if they don’t know I was here, the Magisterium knows I’m related to Lord Asriel, and that I was Miss Coulter’s ward, so I’d be a target for information. They might even know I was at Bolvangar…”
“You don’t need to lie to me,” he said softly, reaching out and placing a hand on her side. She looked over at Pan for a second, then met his gaze.
“You’re the closest I’ve ever had to a father,” she said bluntly, wincing the moment the words left her mouth. He did his best to hide his surprise, presenting what he hoped was a patient smile. “I en’t ever had anyone but Pan, really, besides Roger and the college master. I thought I never knew my parents, and I suppose I never really did. But travelling with you made me feel like I did, like I had a family, and I don’t want to lose that.” He was silent for a beat, feeling a protective instinct rise in his chest.
“As a foster daughter then?” he asked. A million emotions seemed to cross her face at once; she opened her mouth to speak, before deciding whatever she wanted to say just couldn’t be expressed in words. Instead she threw her arms around him again, tighter than she ever had before. She buried her face in his coat, her red beanie brushing against his chin. The thought of her as his daughter filled him with both excitement and anxiety at once, but above all else it just felt right somehow.
He looked down, feeling a surge of affection for the girl, and his gaze met the beady eyes of the white-furred pine marten perched on her shoulder. Pan didn’t say anything, not willing to break the taboo, but there was implicit trust in his gaze and that was enough for Lee.
Finally, her grip loosened and she stepped back, a smile on her lips and fresh hope in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she breathed. He reached up and tipped his hat.
“Don’t mention it.”
“Does this mean you’re moving away?” Roger’s quiet voice cut in. Lyra looked over, her face falling.
“Oxford does have an aërodock,” Lee answered before she could. “I ain’t been in a long while, but I’m sure I could find at least some kind of work there.” He felt a swelling of warmth as he saw both children’s eyes go wide, the joy returning to both faces.
“So you’re staying?” Roger asked.
“Sure,” Lee smiled. He certainly didn’t feel sure inside, but right now that didn’t matter. “Now, what do you say we get out of here?”
“Good idea,” Lyra agreed, taking one last look around at her father’s failed experiment. She slowly walked away, making sure Lee and Roger were with her before heading towards the path down to the valley.
Lee felt a tug at his trouser leg; he bent down to see Hester, and gently scooped the hare up in his hands. He deposited her back in his coat, safe and ready for the trip back down.
“You’re really sure about this, huh?” she asked. He nodded.
“Never been surer about anything.”