‘The teeth of a Hunter?’ she went on. ‘Only a Mage would have any use for those.’ She paused. ‘If I’m right, and he made the sickness – then he killed your brother.’
For a moment there was a stunned silence. ‘How do you know about my brother?’
‘Oh, I know many things,’ said Renn. ‘He killed your brother,’ she said again. ‘I know what it’s like to lose a brother. I lost mine not long ago.’
‘Be quiet,’ said the Seal boy.
‘Think back,’ said Renn, ‘to just before your brother fell sick. Tenris had been up on that clifftop, hadn’t he? Doing Magecraft.’
‘So?’ came the reply. ‘He’s the Mage, that’s what he does.’
‘He did Magecraft, and then your brother got sick.’
It was a guess, but a good one. She heard a sharp intake of breath.
‘He did it to bring the prey,’ whispered the Seal boy. ‘He did Magecraft to bring the prey . . .’
‘That’s what he told you,’ said Renn.
She heard the crunch of sand as he walked up and down. ‘No more talk,’ he said abruptly. But there was doubt in his voice.
‘You know I’m right,’ she said.
‘I said no more talk!’ he shouted.
‘Why won’t you listen!’ Renn shouted back.
The seal hide shuddered, and she knew that he’d punched it.
After that, neither of them spoke.
The smell of meat filled the cave. Renn hesitated – then went over to examine the bowl. Smoked whale meat with juniper berries. It smelt really good. But if she ate it, the Seal boy would think she was giving in. She put the bowl down. Paced the cave. Went back and picked it up.
She was just about to try a piece when the Seal boy gave a cry, and in through the gap leapt Wolf – leapt straight at her – sending her flying, sending the meat spattering against the wall – flattening her beneath him. He was snarling, his black lips drawn back from his big white fangs. She tried to scream, but his forepaws were heavy on her chest. What was wrong with him?
‘Wolf!’ she gasped. ‘Wolf – it’s me!’
‘I’m coming!’ yelled the Seal boy, wrenching aside the hide and leaping in with his harpoon.
With astonishing speed, Wolf sprang off Renn and twisted round to face him.
‘No!’ screamed Renn. ‘Don’t hurt him! He must be sick – or – something!’
The Seal boy ignored her, and jabbed at Wolf with his harpoon.
Wolf sprang sideways, snapping at the shaft.
Renn saw her chance to escape – the cave mouth was wide open – but what about Wolf?
He was dodging the harpoon with ease.
She picked herself up and fled.
Behind her she heard another yell from the Seal boy – more in outrage than in pain – and glanced back to see Wolf leap from the cave and disappear.
Too shaken to make sense of it, she turned and raced off into the fog.
It was thicker than ever. She had no idea where she was; no idea how to find Torak.
She tripped over a pile of driftwood, then blundered into a rack full of whale meat. A shelter loomed out of the whiteness, and she clapped her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. At any moment she dreaded to see the Seal boy leaping out at her – or the tokoroth – or the Soul-Eater.
Suddenly to the north, fire flared high in the sky.
She stopped.
Torak had said that the cure would be made in a rite on a clifftop. Although ‘the cure’ had to be a Soul-Eater trap.
She set off at a run towards the fire.
A noise behind her. She ducked. Too late. A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back.
On the Crag, no trace remained of Tenris the kindly Seal Mage. That mask had been burned away, leaving nothing but ashes and bitterness.
Muttering spells under his breath, the Soul-Eater squatted by the altar rock, painting signs on Torak’s chest. His brush was a bundle of seal’s whiskers bound to the shinbone of an eagle; his paint was a dark, stinking sludge. Torak guessed it was the blood of the murdered Hunter; that the pale objects set in a ring around him were its teeth.
A scratching at his ankles told him that the boy tokoroth was back, to finish tightening the bindings. Torak kicked out hard, knowing his only hope lay in wriggling free when the time was right.
‘Hold still,’ snapped Tenris. He’d been chewing on a foul-smelling paste that had stained the whites of his eyes yellow, and turned his tongue black. He didn’t look like a man any more.
Out of the corner of his vision, Torak caught a furtive movement.
There – beyond the wall of driftwood the girl tokoroth was building, and soaking in seal oil. Wolf.
Torak’s heart tightened with dread. Three against one. If Wolf tried to help him, he’d get himself killed.
‘Uff!’ called Torak, warning him back. ‘Uff! Uff!!’
Wolf pricked his ears, but did not retreat. He’d found a gap in the wall where the girl tokoroth hadn’t yet piled the driftwood high. But it was right on the edge of the cliff.
Go back! Torak tried to tell him silently. You can’t help me! Fortunately, neither Tenris nor the tokoroth had spotted Wolf. All three were staring at Torak. ‘What did you say?’ said Tenris.
Torak thought quickly. Jerking his head at the ring of teeth around him, he said, ‘Those teeth, they’re the Hunter’s, aren’t they? What are they for?’
Tenris regarded him narrowly. ‘Spells,’ he said, dipping his brush in the blood. ‘When you showed me your father’s knife, I suspected that you were the one. But I had to make sure.’
‘And for that a Hunter had to die?’
‘What do I care? They can’t hurt me.’ With his twisted claw he touched the amulet at his throat. ‘A masking charm.’
Torak thought of Detlan, clenching his teeth in agony as Bale tended his shattered leg. If he lived, he would be a cripple. And all because Tenris had needed ‘to make sure’.
Wolf was nosing his way through the gap, perilously close to the edge.
Quickly Torak spoke to Tenris. ‘You said you thought I was “the one”. What did you mean?’
The ruined face darkened. ‘The one who destroyed the bear.’
Torak tensed. ‘The bear.’
‘I created it,’ Tenris said between his teeth. ‘I caught the demon. I trapped it in the body of the bear. You destroyed it.’
For a moment, Torak forgot about Wolf. ‘You’re lying.
Whoever made the bear was crippled. A crippled wanderer.’
Tenris put back his head and laughed. Still laughing, he rose to his feet and circled the fire, limping piteously. ‘Easy, isn’t it? Although I confess I did get very bored.’
Tenris had created the bear – the bear that killed Fa . . .
Torak thought of the clearing where he and his father had camped on that final night. Fa’s face, laughing at the joke Torak had made. Fa’s face as he lay dying . . .
‘What’s this?’ sneered Tenris. ‘Tears?’
‘You killed him,’ whispered Torak. ‘You killed Fa . . .’
At that moment the boy tokoroth touched his ankle. Torak lashed out savagely. ‘You killed Fa!’ he screamed, fighting his bonds with all the rage and grief inside him. The rawhide held firm.
Just then, Wolf hurtled out of the mist and leapt at Tenris. The Seal Mage snatched up his harpoon – the tokoroth scuttled like spiders, drawing knives, seizing firebrands and lashing out at the attacker.
‘Wolf!’ shouted Torak, struggling to push himself off the horn of rock, but held back by the bindings round his ankles. ‘Uff! Uff! Uff!’
Tenris lunged with the harpoon.
Wolf gave a great twisting leap – and the vicious barbs pierced empty fog.
Tenris barked a command, and the girl tokoroth set her firebrand to the driftwood wall. Flames shot up, licking at the sky. The tokoroth lashed out at Wolf with their torches – and he shrank back against the burning wall, snarling, cornered.
Tenris threw down his harpoon and turned to Torak. ‘He’s gone,’ he said. ‘Not even a wolf could get past that now.’
‘Nor can your tokoroth,’ said Torak. Both tokoroth were gone, clattering off down the mountain after Wolf.
Tenris shrugged. ‘I don’t need them any more,’ he said as he took up the knife which lay on Torak’s chest. ‘I can manage this part on my own.’
Torak’s heart was pounding. Wolf was gone. The wall of flames cut him off from all hope of rescue. He might be able to work his feet out of the bindings – he might even be able to push his wrists over the horn and roll off the altar – but what then? He was trapped on a clifftop, pitted against a grown man with a knife and a harpoon, who meant to kill him and eat his heart.
But there was one thing he had to find out first.
‘Why did you do it?’ he said as he stared up into the yellow eyes of the Soul-Eater. ‘Why did you kill my father?’
Tenris shook his head in wonder. ‘Ah, you’re just like him! Always wanting to know why. Why, why, why.’
He circled the altar rock, fingers flexing on the knife, mouth twisting as he tasted bitter memories. ‘He betrayed me,’ he said. ‘He was weak. Worthless. And yet he thought that he could -’
‘He wasn’t worthless,’ said Torak.
‘What do you know?’ snarled Tenris.
‘He was my father,’ said Torak.
Tenris stood over him and bared his blackened teeth. ‘He was my brother.’
THIRTY-TWO
Renn craned her neck to see what was happening on the cliff, but the mist was too thick, and the overhang too deep. Only when the Soul-Eater moved right to the edge did she glimpse him: dark and stick-like against the flames.
‘He’s got a knife,’ she said.
‘It’s too far up,’ said the Seal boy beside her. ‘We’d never get there in time.’
‘But we can’t just -’
‘Look at that fire, it’s right across the Neck! What are you going to do? Fly?’
Renn shot him a suspicious glance. Despite his professed change of heart, she still didn’t trust him. But as she opened her mouth to protest, a wolf howled.
‘What is that?’ said the Seal boy.
‘It’s Wolf,’ said Renn. She cupped her ear to listen. ‘Oh, this is bad, he’s somewhere in the west! Why? Why isn’t he up there helping Torak? If not even Wolf can reach him . . .’ She thought quickly. ‘You’re right,’ she told the Seal boy, ‘we can’t get up there in time. Fetch my bow.’
His jaw dropped. ‘I won’t let you shoot him! Whatever he’s done -’
‘How else do we save Torak?’
‘But he’s still our Mage!’
‘Bale,’ said Renn urgently, ‘I don’t want to kill him any more than you do, but we have to do something!’
Just then the Soul-Eater moved away from the edge, and disappeared. With a cry Renn ran backwards, desperate to catch sight of him again.
‘The overhang’s too deep,’ said Bale. ‘Quick. The skinboat.’
‘What?’ cried Renn.
Bale seized her wrist and dragged her after him. ‘You can’t see the altar rock from the land – only from the Sea!’
Down they raced towards the water. Bale ducked into a shelter, then came out again, and tossed Renn her quiver and bow. Grabbing his skinboat from a rack, he slid it into the shallows, practically threw her into the prow end, then vaulted in after her and snatched up his paddle. Renn had to grip the sides with both hands as they moved off faster than she would have thought possible.
A wind was getting up: an east wind from the Forest. As Renn turned to face the cliff, the fog blew apart to reveal the Soul-Eater – holding a knife high above his head, like an offering. At his feet lay a figure. It wasn’t moving.
‘I can see them!’ shouted Renn.
With astonishing skill, Bale brought his craft about. Renn lurched and would have fallen overboard if he hadn’t taken hold of her jerkin and yanked her back.
Her hands shook as she whipped out an arrow and nocked it to her bow. Despite Bale’s best efforts, the skinboat rocked in the swell. She’d never be able to stand, she’d have to shoot from kneeling.
On the cliff, Torak still wasn’t moving. A terrible fear seized her that they were too late.
‘We’re too far out,’ muttered Bale, ‘no-one could make that shot.’
Setting her teeth, Renn forced herself to ignore him – to think only of the target, as Fin-Kedinn had taught her.
Staring hard at the target, she took aim.
The arrow came arching out of the sky, and thudded deep into Tenris’s palm. With a howl he fell to his knees, and the knife clattered away across the rock.
Torak seized his chance and wriggled out of the bindings around his ankles, then used his heels to launch himself forwards. His arms felt heavy and bloodless, but he managed to hook his wrists over the horn – and rolled off the altar.
On the opposite side, Tenris was still on his knees, clutching his wounded hand. Rising to his feet, he staggered away from the cliff edge – out of range of further arrows.
Torak struggled to stand, and circled out of reach. His shoulders were burning, his wrists throbbing from the bindings. They were on opposite sides of the altar; the edge of the cliff was directly behind him.
With a hiss, Tenris grasped the arrow and wrenched it from his palm. Sweat coursed down his face, scouring rivulets through the ash to reveal the scorched red flesh beneath. ‘Give up, Torak,’ he panted. ‘It’s over!’
More wolf howls. The demons are gone! called Wolf.
‘He’s far away,’ said Tenris, snatching up his harpoon. ‘He can’t help you any more.’
‘He’s helped enough,’ said Torak.
Tenris snorted. ‘You’re on your own now, Torak. Your friends can’t try another shot at me, or they’d risk hitting you.’
Torak did not reply. He needed all his strength just to stay standing.
‘Give up, Torak,’ urged that beautiful, powerful voice. ‘You’ve done well, but it’s time to pass your power to one who knows how to use it.’
Torak glanced over his shoulder. The east wind was strengthening, blowing away the fog. A shaft of silver light was pouring down onto the Sea.
‘I’ll make it quick,’ said Tenris. ‘I promise.’
Far below him, Torak saw the restless, shimmering Sea. He felt the wind from the Forest on his face; he thought of Wolf and Renn and Fin-Kedinn, and of all the clans he’d never even met. If he let Tenris take his power – if he let the Soul-Eater become the spirit walker – then none of them would ever be safe.
‘You have no choice,’ murmured the Soul-Eater. ‘You know that.’
Torak squared his shoulders, and met that intense grey gaze.
Too late, Tenris realised what he meant to do – and his eyes widened in disbelief.
‘There’s always a choice,’ said Torak, and walked backwards off the cliff.
THIRTY-THREE
Down, down he fell – into the splintered Sea – into the golden forest of kelp – down into darkness.
Down he sank, kicking feebly at the water with what remained of his strength. It wasn’t enough. His wrists were bound so tight that he couldn’t slip free; his sodden leggings were dragging him down. He would never reach the surface.
But he had known that when he stepped off the cliff. He had known that this time there would be no friendly guardian; no Wolf leaping in to save him. This time there was only Torak and the hungry Sea. This time he was going to die.
He turned his face for a last look at the light – and saw, impossibly far above, a figure darkening the sun. It was swimming towards him, swimming faster than an eel.
Hope
kindled. Was it Wolf? Renn? Bale?
Tenris seized him by the hair and yanked him upwards.
Torak struggled and kicked, but the Soul-Eater was too strong. With both hands, Torak grabbed the kelp around him – jerking Tenris backwards in a flurry of silver bubbles. Furiously they fought till their lungs were bursting, till the water flooded scarlet with blood from the Soul-Eater’s wound. The Seal Mage wrenched Torak’s hands free of the kelp, and they rose again – locked together like vipers as they spiralled up towards the light.
Together they burst from the Sea.
‘So you’d rather kill yourself, would you?’ gasped Tenris. ‘How noble! But I won’t give you the chance!’ Still gripping Torak by the hair, he struck out for the shore, swimming one-armed, but powering through the water with swift, sure strokes.
Torak tried to bite his hand – but Tenris lashed out with his free arm, landing him a savage blow on the temple.
Stunned, Torak went under. As he surfaced, he heard a deafening ‘kwshsh!’ – and saw an enormous black fin slicing towards them.
Terror turned his limbs to water.
Tenris hadn’t seen the Hunter; he was bent on reaching the shore. Torak had an instant in which to act . . .
With one final burst of strength, he twisted round and lunged at the Soul-Eater, ripping the masking charm from his throat.
Tenris grunted in surprise, and lost his grip on Torak. Torak kicked with all his might, and swam out of reach.
Tenris turned to catch him – and saw the Hunter. His hand flew to his throat to grasp the masking charm, and clawed naked skin. He saw the charm in Torak’s hand – he strained to grab it. Torak dodged, and hurled the masking charm across the waves. Tenris gave a shout of rage and plunged after it – but it had sunk.
Now they were both at the mercy of the Hunter, with no help in sight.
Torak saw Notched Fin bearing down upon them, shooting spray high into the air. At the edge of his vision he glimpsed a skinboat racing towards them – but it would never reach them in time . . .
And now Sea, sky, skinboat – were blotted out by the Hunter. Through the green water Torak saw the great blunt head looming closer . . .
Chronicles of Ancient Darkness Page 39