~~~
For Christopher the next few days were uneventful and joyful. He found himself ambling down the path marvelling at the beauty of God’s creation that he saw around him. He spent much time contemplating the Great Chain of Being and man’s place in it. He did see many small animals and they seemed to have no fear of him. His thoughts turned to St Francis and Christopher specially addressed him in his prayers. Whether the saint aided, Christopher never knew, but he only saw one predator and that was a large cat that lay asleep in the sun on the branch of a tree as he passed by.
He ate of his dried food and pickles, ample food for one accustomed to monastic fare, and drank from his water skin, refilling it at small streams and only taking from swift running water. He could not remember why the men had insisted on him doing that, but they had, so he did. At night, again as he had been firmly instructed, he climbed into a tree and slept there, hoping to avoid most of the predators of the forest. He wasn’t very good at climbing, never having had a normal childhood, but at least he collected less scratches as the days wore on.
He did discover his rough cassock and sandals, really the only clothes he knew, were not well suited to the outdoor life and he soon learnt to remove his sandals to climb. Despite his continued concern at falling out, the broad tree limbs were nearly as comfortable as his customary cot and the unfamiliar exercise of walking so far led him to sleep both quickly and soundly. Each day he wore the soreness in his muscles proudly and each day he was sure that the soreness grew less and he walked further and further.
One day Christopher heard what he thought was most likely a wolf howling to the east. It sounded to be to the south of the road. Christopher thought little of this and continued on. After a while a second wolf howled, this time north of the road. He didn’t know if wolves really attacked people, or if was just that way in stories, but he didn’t want to find out. He started to look for a tree that he could quickly climb, but climbable trees seemed to be scarce here. The first wolf howled again, this time more closely followed by the cry of the second. They seemed to be much closer now and they were joined by a third. This one seemed to be straight ahead of him.
Christopher hastened his pace and reviewed what miracles he could summon that might prove to be useful. Were wolves evil? He didn’t know, but a miracle of protection from evil creatures might help. He also knew how to compel sleep. This miracle was meant for a person, to aid a sick patient, but if he changed the words there—how many should he allow for? He had only heard three, but there could be twice that many—better allow for eight.
If he needed to cast his protection, then the miracle could not last long, and he would have to change it from a compulsion to inducing, but it should work. He wouldn’t make it specific to wolves, although that would save a bit of mana, just to canines. They sounded like dogs of some sort, but they might not be wolves. Oh—the incantation was meant to be on touch. He needed some range. Twenty paces would have to do. Now he felt as prepared as he could be. He decided to cast the sleep first and wait and see if he needed the protection, or even another sleep. As he walked he practiced each line separately. It was always better to be prepared. The wolves howled again. They were quite close now. He wished that he had the strength to radiate a circle of complete protection. If he worked out how, perhaps he could do so in a dire emergency. He would have a high risk of failure and would be drained for days, but he may need it one day. Later. He would work on this later. No, now it would be best if he were to stick to his plan.
He saw the wolves and a suitable tree to climb at the same time. The tree was much closer, but they could move much faster than he could. The jet-black beasts stopped on seeing him. They seemed to briefly look at each other before they resumed moving. He kept walking, clutching his staff. His hand on it was suddenly moist with sweat. There were six of these dark-looking wolves, running as a tight group. Quickly he started to say the words of his chant, almost slipping in them out of nervousness. Timing was everything. As the wolves passed the tree he slowed his speech—almost there. The closest wolf was at the very most ten paces away when he finished.
They all stopped, obviously fighting God’s will as expressed through his words. Christopher felt a wave of relief as they failed in this. For a moment he was tempted to kill them as they slept, but again he thought of St Francis and of mercy and could not bring himself to do so. Perhaps they were innocent and, when they awoke and found they could not have him, they would just leave on their own and let him continue.
He walked through the sleeping group and reached the tree and quickly climbed it, scraping his hands and knees on the bark as he did so. He was up in its branches only just in time. Looking back he could see that the wolves were already starting to wake up. They were yawning and shaking their heads, getting up and stretching, sniffing the air and the ground. It did not take them long to find out where he was. He had been wrong about them leaving him alone. They took up station under his tree. Every now and then one howled.
Christopher waited, considering if he had any options. Looking down he saw his staff leaning against the tree where he had put it to allow him to climb. He was not even sure that he could get down far enough to gain a hold of it without risking falling out. The wolves waited, seemingly listening for something and then another one howled. After a little while a third wolf howled. They kept this up for quite some time. Eventually, in the distance, could faintly be heard an answer. It seemed that there were more of them around than the pack that he had here. He wondered what he should do—what he could do.
The wolves looked at each other. Another howled. This cry ended in a strange noise. He looked down. One wolf lay dead underneath him, its head transfixed by an arrow. The others had leapt to their feet and were looking to the north. As another wolf was hit they broke into a sudden run. Christopher could see that it was a race, arrow after arrow bringing down wolf after wolf as they closed on their attacker. In his efforts to see who was helping him, Father Christopher nearly did fall out of his tree. He couldn’t stay here while someone was acting for him, doing what he should have done for himself. They might need help. With some difficulty he started to slowly climb down from his safe perch to the ground. He ignored the scrapes leaving him scratched and bleeding and tugged his robe free of an obstacle, tearing it as he did so.
Chapter XV
Astrid knew that she was more than good-looking, if she didn’t smile too broadly, not just by the standards of Wolfneck but also from the reaction to her appearance from outsiders she met during trade. Wolfneck people tended to be at least plain, but all she had to show for her part Kharl heritage were a strong jaw, a more than slightly cat-like appearance and long tongue, and the long and strong incisors of a large hunting cat. Otherwise she was tall and athletically slender and strong with breasts large enough to sometimes be a nuisance when firing her bow and with very pale blonde hair. Usually her hair was in braids that she curled up against her head, but when it was loose it hung down near to her waist. She was equally at home hunting in the forests and snows of her land or on her father’s ship, seeking fish or whales.
Unfortunately her appearance and skill were also her curse. If she had been more Kharlish in appearance like Helga, or with a faint greenish skin, like Gudrid, then perhaps Svein would be less interested in her. It was his interest in a marriage alliance that would at least heal years of bad feeling between two of the village ships. She would have been able to handle his appearance if he had been pleasant. She was sure that she could have coped with him being a childless widower and near as old as her father if he had been gentle. Instead, when he was on shore he was an ugly, violent, lecherous, loud-mouthed drunkard. When he was at sea he was supposed to be just bad tempered, even if still ugly—a true throwback to the past. The Darkspeech that was used in Wolfneck is well suited to invective and most of it was used by, or could be used about, him.
She told herself that her widowed father was not a cruel man but his main concern was with his
several sons, who would take over his ship, not with his single daughter. As far as he was concerned, the lack of unrelated men in town, as well as the high bride price she commanded, restricted the field of eligible partners to just one—Svein. While Astrid didn’t care about the bride price, none of the available men with fewer resources interested her either. The men who were free were either dull, ugly, or nekulturny or, even worse, were some combination of these three. Was it too much to ask for, to be happy with the choice that was offered to her?
Last night in the tavern was probably the trigger. Her father was at sea with her brothers and Svein started by doing what he had before many times, making lewd remarks about her figure and what he would do to her when they were married. Last night he had made these comments publicly and loudly, boasting about his prowess, experience and size and comparing them to her virginity and lack of experience. He boasted how he would make her beg for him to take her every way—and he was explicit in this, even promising to make her ask to be shared with his friends like a jug of ale. The shame of his words still burned on her cheeks and his promises of undoubtedly rough sex in no way interested her. He had never been this blatant with his behaviour before.
This morning she had gone hunting to clear her head and to get out of town for a while. The quiet of the northern forest had been ideal for her mood, but her mind was just not with the hunting. Even though, out of habit, she moved with all her customary stealth and skill, and all she had really done was to move around the forest in a mental fog. Animals had really been ignored when she could have taken them.
Astrid realised she really could not put up with such a beast for a husband. She had to do something. She briefly pondered marrying him and then killing him on their wedding night, but that would mean she would have to put up with his touch until he died and would then face trial and, at least, outlawry. Why not run away? Her father would scarce notice that she was gone. Svein would find solace with a jug of spirits and a sheep or something else of his level. There had to be someone out there who would respect her and care for her. She would go—now. Her father had taken the boat out yesterday morning and her brothers were all with him. She was alone in the house for a while. Now was the best time. Even if he decided to bring her back then she would still have a few days head start and should be able to evade him.
Astrid turned her feet towards home. She might have been wandering around without thinking, but in this forest that would look the same everywhere to an outsider, once she concentrated on the details around her, it took but one glance at the trees, the infrequent rocks, standing water and the slope of the land to tell her where to head.
On the way back to Wolfneck Astrid realised that she was beginning to have second thoughts. This was, after all, the only home that she knew. Here was where her friends were. She knew her mind was going backwards and forwards. Arriving back in Wolfneck and walking to her house Svein saw her some way off. He outlined her shape with his hands, made a lewd gesture and loudly suggested that they start on their marriage celebrations while her father was away and formalise it later in the old custom. She shuddered and shook her head.
For the first time in her life she felt a degree of gratitude to Svein. She went so far as to briefly thank him in her thoughts for helping her to make up her mind. Yes, she was definitely leaving him behind and going now to a new life—whatever it turned out to be.
She hurried home and prepared a well-used backpack, grabbed the jewellery that her mother had left her, some money, food, a big bag of salt, spare clothes, hunting gear and her weapons. It was too early for serious snow and she was going to head south, so she left behind her skis and snowshoes, but she took her glare-wraps for bright light. She looked around and drew a deep breath. These were the sights and smells of home and this was the last she would know of them. She had just cooked and the biscuits from the griddle were coming with her and so was the griddle and some cooking gear. Everything of her life so far would now be behind her. Thank goodness. She only just remembered to leave a brief note to say that she was leaving. She pinned it in place on a cutting board with an old gutting knife. She didn’t say why she was going or where. It would make a bad situation worse in such a small town. Peering cautiously out of the house, Astrid waited until no one was in sight to see her laden down before heading out of the town and out of her old life.
She started by using the trail south. There were always so many people using it that it was covered in tracks—she had used it when going out hunting earlier. If they had started right behind her, only the best local trackers would be able to make out which tracks were from her earlier trip and which were from now. Even if her father caught a whale straight away, which was unlikely at this time of year, she shouldn’t be missed for at least four days. If she were not seen then, after what had happened in the tavern last night, the whole village would easily believe that she was staying in the house and hiding away from Svein. That extra time should lay down even more tracks over hers. It wouldn’t take much luck for it to rain or even to snow, and that would wipe out the evidence of her passage almost completely.
~~~
Late in the afternoon Astrid took advantage of one of several rocky outcrops that crossed the path, but not the first, to move off to the right of the trail. Once she left the outcrop she used her skills as a tracker to hide the evidence of her passage for some way. It was slow, but she was confident that she had done a good job. By the time she was happy to move quickly again, it was almost time to sleep for the night.
Travelling alone in the north, where the giant and ancient conifers are hard to climb and there are few settlements, she realised that there was very little choice as to what to do at night. All that was possible for her was to go to sleep and hope. She was pleased to have the good fortune to find a tangle of fallen trees and was able to make a passage into them. After eating she crawled in to a small, and fairly open, cave of logs floored with pine needles and pulled some branches after her. Snakes were very rare this far north and, hopefully, if anything large tried to come after her she could use her spear, lying back along her entryway, to repel it. However, her precautions were unneeded. She slept undisturbed.
Day after day she followed a routine of travel and sleep. Sometimes she laid snares at night and once she shot a small hopper with her longbow. That night, having eaten some of its meat and more out of habit than anything else, she used her skinning knife to scrape and rub its skin clean and then rubbed some salt into it before rolling it up. As she moved further and further south, an incredible feeling of lightness filled her. She was free at last from having to care for a father and brothers who only noticed her if something wasn’t done around the house. She was free from a marriage that she dreaded and she was free to choose her own path and destiny.
Astrid had originally thought to stay in the north and had headed for Greensin, but she decided that, to be truly free, she would at least have to go to some place that was truly different. Too many from Wolfneck could see her in Greensin. She was not an outlaw and she might decide to return to the north someday, but she had to start by going outside it. She would go to Evilhalt, at the centre of The Land and, from there, why, she would just see what happened. She would just waft as she felt the urge and let the winds blow her. This was freedom. This was what choice was about.
~~~
She changed her direction of travel towards her left hand and, over the next several days, she drifted slowly south through untracked forest. Once she was laid up for a whole day in a providential cave when the first snows of the season came in. They were only light and she could have easily travelled through them, but she was in no hurry to get anywhere. She spent the day lazing over a fire, repairing the small rips and tears in her clothes that come from travelling off road in the wild. She found this relaxing. The snow was still on the ground when Astrid set out refreshed the next day. She realised that now it would possibly stay there until spring, getting slowly deeper and deeper. Gradually the pine
s of the north around her were beginning to be replaced by other trees, some already bare, others with leaves turning red or brown. She could hear bird calls she didn’t know and even some of the animals that she was seeing were different.
It was not just the sights. The smell of the forest had changed completely. Her nostrils teased out the new scents as she tried to work out what they meant.
A few days later her easy routine was interrupted. She had wandered west, away from the mountains and the Methul River and was probably only a few days south and east of Greensin, probably nearing the track from there to the east when she heard the baying of wolves break out. It sounded like a pack. She kept going. Wolves rarely bothered Humans, particularly armed ones, unless they were very hungry. That was unlikely when there was so much game around that had the fatness of the end of summer on their bodies.
Eventually it became apparent the wolves were not moving. The baying was less frequent now, but it was all coming from the same place. This time there was an answer in the distance. If the wolves were not moving it usually meant they had their quarry cornered and could not get at it. She looked around. There were no rocky outcrops in the area, so the prey had to be in a tree. In this area that meant that their prey had to be Human and, if they were persisting, then the person could not harm them.
Intimations of Evil (Warriors of Vhast Book 1) Page 20