The Den meant terrible danger. It was huge and complicated, with angry dogs who didn’t listen, and many of the Bright Beasts-that-Bite-Hot. Worst of all were the taillesses themselves. They couldn’t hear or smell much, but they made up for it by doing clever things with their forepaws, and sending the Long-Claw-that-Flies-Far to bite the prey.
Wolf didn’t know whether to run or stay.
To help himself think, he chewed a branch, then a chunk of the Bright Soft Cold. He ran in circles. Nothing worked. He longed for the strange sureness that sometimes came to him and told him what to do. It didn’t come. It had flown like a raven into the Up.
What must he do?
Torak blamed himself. Because of his carelessness he’d lost the Nanuak. It was all his fault. Around him the snow-laden trees cast blue moon-shadows across the trail. ‘Your fault,’ they seemed to be telling him.
‘Faster,’ said Hord, jabbing him in the back.
The Ravens had camped in a clearing by a mountain stream. At the heart of the clearing, a long-fire of three pine logs glowed orange. Clustered around it were the clan’s sloping shelters, then a ring of smaller fires and spiked pits, guarded by men with spears. It looked as if the entire clan had come north.
Hord ran ahead while Torak waited with Oslak by one of the shelters. He saw Renn, and his spirits rose. She was kneeling at the mouth of a shelter on the other side of the clearing, talking urgently. She didn’t see him.
People were huddled around the long-fire. The air was thick with fear. According to Oslak, scouts had found signs of the bear only two valleys away. ‘It’s getting stronger,’ he said. ‘Tearing up the Forest as if – as if it’s seeking something.’
Torak started to shiver. Hord’s forced march had kept him warm, but now, in his summer buckskin, he was freezing. He hoped they wouldn’t think he was scared.
Oslak untied his wrists and put his hand on his shoulder to guide him into the clearing. Torak forgot about the cold as he stumbled into the glare of the long-fire, and a buzz of voices like a hive of angry bees.
He saw Saeunn, cross-legged on a pile of reindeer hides with the ravenskin pouch in her lap; Hord beside her, gnawing his thumb; Dyrati watching Hord, her face strained.
Silence fell. People made way for four men bearing Fin-Kedinn on an auroch-hide litter. The Raven Leader’s face was drawn, and his left leg was bandaged in soft bindings blotched with blood. His face contracted slightly as the men set him down by the long-fire. It was the only sign he gave of being in pain.
Renn appeared, rolling a chunk of pine log. She put it behind Fin-Kedinn for him to lean against, then curled up beside him on a reindeer skin. She didn’t look at Torak, but kept her eyes on the fire.
Oslak nudged him in the back, and he took a few halting steps closer to the litter.
The Raven Leader caught his gaze and held it, and Torak felt a rush of relief. The blue eyes were as intense and unreadable as ever. Hord would have to wait a while longer to be Clan Leader.
‘When we first found this boy,’ said Fin-Kedinn, his voice ringing clear, ‘we didn’t know who, or what, he was. Since then, he has found the three pieces of the Nanuak. He has saved the life of one of our own.’ He paused. ‘I have no more doubts. He is the Listener. The question is, do we let him take the Nanuak to the Mountain? A boy, on his own? Or do we send our strongest hunter: a full-grown man with a far greater chance against the bear?’
Hord stopped gnawing his thumb and squared his shoulders. Torak’s heart sank.
‘Time is short,’ said Fin-Kedinn, glancing at the night sky where the Great Auroch blazed. ‘In a few days, the bear will be too strong to overcome. We can’t call a clan meet, there’s no time. I must decide this now, for all the clans.’ The only sound was the hiss and crackle of the fire. The Ravens were hanging on every word.
‘There are many among us,’ Fin-Kedinn went on, ‘who say it would be madness to trust our fate to a boy.’
Hord leapt to his feet. ‘It would be madness! I’m the strongest! Let me go to the Mountain and save my people!’
‘You’re not the Listener,’ said Torak.
‘What about the rest of the Prophecy?’ said Saeunn in her raven’s croak. ‘“The Listener gives his heart’s blood to the Mountain.” Could you do that?’
Torak took a breath. ‘If that’s what it takes.’
‘But there’s another way!’ cried Hord. ‘We kill him now, and I take his blood to the Mountain! At least then we stand a chance!’
A murmur of approval from the Ravens.
Fin-Kedinn raised a hand for silence, then spoke to Torak. ‘You used to deny that you were the Listener. Why so keen now?’
Torak raised his chin. ‘The bear killed my father. That’s what it was made to do.’
‘This is greater than vengeance!’ sneered Hord.
‘It’s greater than vanity, too,’ Torak retorted. He spoke to Fin-Kedinn. ‘I don’t care about being “the saviour of my people”. What people? I’ve never even met my own clan. But I swore to my father that I’d find the Mountain. I swore an oath.’
‘We’re wasting time!’ said Hord. ‘Give me the Nanuak and I will do it!’
‘How?’ said a quiet voice.
It was Renn.
‘How will you find the Mountain?’ she asked.
Hord hesitated.
Renn stood up. ‘It’s said to be the furthest peak at the northernmost end of the High Mountains. Well, here we are, at the northernmost end of the High Mountains. So where is it?’ She spread her hands. ‘I don’t know.’ She turned to Hord. ‘Do you?’
He ground his teeth.
She spoke to Saeunn. ‘Do you? No. And you’re the Mage.’ She faced Fin-Kedinn. ‘Do you?’
‘No,’ he answered.
Renn pointed at Torak. ‘Not even he knows where it is, and he’s the Listener.’ She paused. ‘But somebody knows.’ She looked directly at Torak, her eyes drilling into his.
He caught her meaning. Clever Renn, he thought. Just so long as it works . . .
He put his hands to his lips and howled.
The Ravens gasped. The camp dogs leapt into uproar.
Again Torak howled.
Suddenly, a streak of grey sped across the clearing and crashed into him.
People muttered and pointed; the dogs went wild until men shooed them away. A small child laughed.
Torak knelt and buried his face in Wolf’s fur. Then he gave the cub’s muzzle a grateful lick. It had taken enormous courage for Wolf to answer his call.
As the uproar subsided, Torak raised his head. ‘Only Wolf can find the Mountain,’ he told Fin-Kedinn. ‘He got us this far. It’s only because of him that we found the Nanuak.’
The Raven Leader ran a hand over his dark-red beard.
‘Give me back the Nanuak,’ pleaded Torak. ‘Let me take it to the World Spirit. It’s our only chance.’
The fire crackled and spat. Snow thudded off a nearby spruce. The Ravens waited for their Leader’s decision.
At last Fin-Kedinn spoke. ‘We’ll give you food and clothing for the journey. When do you leave?’
Torak breathed out.
Renn gave him a curt nod.
Hord shouted a protest, but Fin-Kedinn silenced him with a glance. Again he spoke to Torak. ‘When do you leave?’
Torak swallowed. ‘Um. Tomorrow?’
TWENTY-NINE
Tomorrow, Torak and Wolf would set out into the bear-haunted Forest – and Torak had no idea what he was going to do.
Even if they reached the Mountain, what next? Should he simply leave the Nanuak on the ground? Ask the World Spirit to destroy the bear? Try to fight it on his own?
‘Do you want new boots, or do we mend yours?’ snapped Oslak’s mate, who was measuring him for winter clothes.
‘What?’ he said.
‘Boots,’ repeated the woman. She had tired eyes, and river clay markings on her cheeks – and she was furious with him. He didn’t know why.
He said
, ‘I’m used to my boots. Could you maybe –’
‘Mend them?’ She snorted. ‘I think I can manage that!’
‘Thank you,’ Torak said humbly. He glanced at Wolf, who was cowering in the corner with his ears back.
Oslak’s mate snatched a length of sinew and spun Torak round to measure his shoulders. ‘Oh, it’ll fit all right,’ she muttered. ‘Well sit down, sit down!’
Torak sat, and watched her tying knots to mark the measurements. Her eyes were moist, and she was blinking rapidly. She caught him looking. ‘What are you staring at?’
‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘Should I take off my clothes?’
‘Not unless you want to freeze. You’ll have the new things by dawn. Now give me the boots.’
He did, and she eyed them as if they were a pair of rotting salmon. ‘More holes than a fishing net,’ she said. It was a relief when she bustled out of the shelter.
She hadn’t been gone long when Renn came in. Wolf padded over and licked her fingers. She scratched him behind the ears.
Torak wanted to thank her for standing up for him, but he wasn’t sure how to start. The silence lengthened.
‘How’d you get on with Vedna?’ Renn said abruptly.
‘Vedna? Oh. Oslak’s mate? I don’t think she likes me.’
‘It’s not that. It’s your new clothes. She was making them for her son. Now she’s got to finish them for you.’
‘Her son?’
‘Killed by the bear.’
‘Oh.’ Poor Vedna, he thought. Poor Oslak. And that explained the river clay. It must be the Raven way of mourning.
The bruise on Renn’s cheek had turned purple; he asked if it hurt. She shook her head. He guessed that she was ashamed of what her brother had done.
‘What about Fin-Kedinn?’ he said. ‘How bad is his leg?’
‘Bad. Bone-deep. But no sign of the blackening sickness.’
‘That’s good.’ He hesitated. ‘Was he – very angry with you?’
‘Yes. But that’s not why I’m here.’
‘So why are you here?’
‘Tomorrow. I’m coming with you.’
Torak bit his lip. ‘I think it has to be just me and Wolf.’
She glared at him. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. I just do.’
‘That’s stupid.’
‘Maybe. But that’s how it is.’
‘You sound like Fin-Kedinn.’
‘That’s another reason. He’d never allow it.’
‘Since when did I let that stop me?’
He grinned.
She didn’t grin back. Looking thunderous, she moved to the fire at the entrance to the shelter. ‘You’re to eat nightmeal with him,’ she said. ‘It’s an honour. In case you didn’t know.’
Torak swallowed. He was scared of Fin-Kedinn, but in a strange way, he also wanted his approval. Eating nightmeal with him sounded unnerving. ‘Will you be there too?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Oh.’
Another silence. Then she relented. ‘If you like, I’ll keep Wolf with me. Best not to leave him alone with the dogs.’
‘Thanks.’
She nodded. Then she saw his bare feet. ‘I’ll see if I can find you a pair of boots.’
Some time later, Torak made his way to Fin-Kedinn’s shelter, stumbling in his borrowed boots, which were much too big.
He found the Raven Leader in heated talk with Saeunn, but they stopped when he came in. Saeunn looked fierce. Fin-Kedinn’s face gave nothing away.
Torak sat cross-legged on a reindeer skin. He couldn’t see any food, but people were busy at cooking-skins by the long-fire. He wondered how soon they would eat. And what he was doing here.
‘I’ve told you what I think,’ said Saeunn.
‘So you have,’ Fin-Kedinn said evenly.
They made no attempt to include Torak, which left him free to study Fin-Kedinn’s shelter. It was no grander than the others, and from the roofpost hung the usual hunter’s gear; but the string of the great yew bow was broken, and the white reindeer-hide parka was spattered with dried blood: stark reminders that the Raven Leader had faced the bear, and survived.
Suddenly, Torak noticed a man watching him from the shadows. He had short brown hair and dark, wizened features.
‘This is Krukoslik,’ said Fin-Kedinn, ‘of the Mountain Hare Clan.’
The man put both fists over his heart and bowed his head.
Torak did the same.
‘Krukoslik knows these parts better than anyone,’ said Fin-Kedinn. ‘Talk to him before you set out. If nothing else, he’ll give you a few hints on surviving the Mountains. I wasn’t impressed by the state you were in when we caught you. No winter clothes, one waterskin and no food. Your father taught you better than that.’
Torak caught his breath. ‘So you did know him?’
Saeunn bristled, but Fin-Kedinn quelled her with a glance. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I knew him. There was a time when he was my best friend.’
Angrily, Saeunn turned away.
Torak felt himself getting angry, too. ‘If you were his best friend, why did you sentence me to death? Why did you let me fight Hord? Why did you keep me tied up while the clan meet decided whether to sacrifice me?’
‘To see what you were made of,’ Fin-Kedinn said calmly. ‘You’re no good to anyone if you can’t use your wits.’ He paused. ‘If you remember, I didn’t keep you under close guard. I even let you have the wolf cub with you.’
Torak thought about that. ‘You mean – you were testing me?’
Fin-Kedinn did not reply.
Two men came over from the main fire, carrying four steaming birchwood bowls.
‘Eat,’ said Krukoslik, handing one to Torak.
Fin-Kedinn tossed over a horn spoon, and for a while Torak forgot about everything as he dug in hungrily. It was a thin broth made from boiled elk hooves and a few slivers of dried deer heart, bulked up with rowanberries and the tough, tasteless tree-mushroom that the clans call auroch’s ears. With it, they had a single flatcake of roasted acorn meal: very bitter, but not too bad once it was broken up and mashed into the broth.
‘I’m sorry we can’t do better,’ said Fin-Kedinn, ‘but prey is scarce.’ It was the only reference he made to the bear.
Torak was too hungry to care. Only when he’d licked his bowl did he notice that Fin-Kedinn and Saeunn had hardly touched theirs. Saeunn took them back to the cooking-skin, then returned to her place. Krukoslik hung his spoon on his belt, and went to kneel by the small fire at the entrance to the shelter, where he murmured a brief prayer of thanks.
Torak had never seen anyone like him. He wore a bulky robe of brown reindeer hide that hung all the way to his calves, and a broad belt of red buckskin. His clan skin was a mantle of hare fur over the shoulders, dyed a fiery red, and his clan-tattoo was a red zigzag band across the forehead. On his breast hung a finger-long shard of smoky rock crystal.
He saw Torak looking at it, and smiled. ‘Smoke is the breath of the Fire Spirit. Mountain clans worship fire above all else.’
Torak remembered the comfort the fire had given him and Renn in the snow cave. ‘I can understand that,’ he said.
Krukoslik’s smile broadened.
With nightmeal over, Fin-Kedinn asked the others to leave so that he could speak to Torak alone. Krukoslik stood up and bowed. Saeunn gave an angry hiss and swept from the shelter.
Torak wondered what was coming next.
‘Saeunn,’ said Fin-Kedinn, ‘doesn’t think you should be told any more. She thinks it would distract you tomorrow.’
‘Any more about what?’ asked Torak.
‘About what you want to know.’
Torak considered that. ‘I want to know everything.’
‘Not possible. Try again.’
Torak picked at a tear in the knee of his leggings. ‘Why me? Why am I the Listener?’
Fin-Kedinn stroked his beard. ‘That is a long story.’
‘Is it
because of my father? Because he was the Wolf Mage? The enemy of the crippled wanderer, who made the bear?’
‘That is – part of it.’
‘But who was he? Why were they enemies? Fa never even mentioned him.’
With a stick, the Raven Leader stirred the fire, and Torak saw the lines of pain deepen on either side of his mouth. Without turning his head, Fin-Kedinn said, ‘Did your father ever mention the Soul-Eaters?’
Torak was puzzled. ‘No. I’ve never heard of them.’
‘Then you must be the only one in the Forest who hasn’t.’ Fin-Kedinn fell silent, the firelight etching his face with shadow. ‘The Soul-Eaters,’ he went on, ‘were seven Mages, each from a different clan. In the beginning, they were not evil. They helped their clans. Each had his own particular skill. One was subtle as a snake, always delving into the lore of herbs and potions. One was strong as an oak; he wished to know the minds of trees. Another had thoughts that flew swifter than a bat. She loved to enchant small creatures to do her bidding. One was proud and far-seeking, fascinated by demons, always trying to control them. They say that another could summon the Dead.’ Again he stirred the fire.
When he did not continue, Torak mustered his courage. ‘That’s only five. You said – there were seven.’
Fin-Kedinn ignored him. ‘Many winters ago, they banded together in secret. At first they called themselves the Healers. Deceived themselves into believing that they wished only to do good; to cure sickness, guard against demons.’ His mouth twisted contemptuously. ‘Soon they drifted into evil, warped by their hunger for power.’
Torak’s fingers tightened on his knee. ‘Why were they called Soul-Eaters?’ he asked, scarcely moving his lips. ‘Did they really eat souls?’
‘Who knows? People were frightened, and when people are frightened, rumour becomes truth.’ His face became distant as he remembered. ‘Above all things, the Soul-Eaters wanted power. That’s what they lived for. To rule the Forest. To force everyone in it to do their bidding. Then, thirteen winters ago, something happened that shattered their power.’
‘What?’ whispered Torak. ‘What happened?’
Fin-Kedinn sighed. ‘All you need to know is that there was a great fire, and the Soul-Eaters were scattered. Some were badly wounded. All went into hiding. We thought the threat had gone for ever. We were wrong.’ He snapped the stick in two and threw it on the fire. ‘The man you call the crippled wanderer – the man who created the bear – he was one of them.’
Chronicles of Ancient Darkness Page 17