Through the rain, Torak saw the Boar Clan boy’s right arm strapped to his chest: the arm that he, Torak, had broken when he’d sent Aki crashing into the rapids.
With a snarl, Torak leapt from the tree and linked his hands to make a step. ‘Quick, climb!’
Aki was aghast. Then he put his foot on Torak’s hands, and Torak boosted him into the tree with the last of his strength.
The roar came again, but this time it wasn’t ice, Torak realized, it was the flood. Far in the distance he saw it: a giant wall of water powering across the Lake – obliterating islands, uprooting trees, coming for him.
Aki was shouting and leaning down to give him his hand, but now it was Torak who couldn’t reach. He wasn’t going to make it.
In the moment before the flood hit, he saw Wolf racing towards him. Torak staggered to meet him – he flung his arms around his pack-brother’s neck . . .
. . . and the wave took them both.
THIRTY-SIX
Torak came to his senses lying on his back, with rain pattering on his face.
A dead fish hung in the birch tree above him. The storm had passed. The flood had thrown him onto a stony hillside strewn with broken saplings. There was no trace of Wolf. Torak prayed that he’d found his way to safety.
He raised himself on one elbow. He was battered and bruised, but otherwise unhurt.
He was also surrounded.
Behind a forest of spears – all pointed at him – he saw a throng of Boar and Wolf and Raven, maybe eighty strong. Some of them he knew – Thull, Raut, Maheegun – but they stared at him as if he were a stranger. To a man, they were filthy, frightened and eager for the kill.
An arrow thudded into the mud by his thigh. He got to his feet. He was alone and weaponless. The flood had taken his axe.
Then he saw Wolf on the slope behind them, preparing to leap to his aid.
Stay away! Torak barked. Too many!
Wolf didn’t move.
Agitated murmurs. They didn’t like him speaking wolf.
A stone struck his temple. He managed to stay standing. If he went down now, it would be the end.
‘No stones.’ A familiar voice spoke, and the spears parted to let Fin-Kedinn through. Leaning heavily on his staff, he moved towards Torak, then faced the throng, shielding him with his body.
‘Stand aside, Fin-Kedinn,’ cried the Boar Clan Leader. ‘I found the outcast! To me goes the honour of the kill!’
‘No!’ Aki pushed forwards. ‘You can’t do this! He saved my life!’
The Boar Clan Leader turned on his son, and Aki quailed – but stood his ground. ‘He could have saved himself, but instead he helped me! Father, you can’t kill him, it’s not right!’
‘Not right?’ With his fist, the Boar Clan Leader struck his son a blow which sent him flying. ‘He’s an outcast! That’s the law!’
‘How can you say that?’ shouted Bale, shouldering his way through. ‘Torak saved you all!’
‘He warned you of the flood!’ panted Renn behind him. She looked bedraggled and furious. ‘If it weren’t for Torak, you’d have drowned, every last one of you!’
‘Don’t listen to her!’ cried an Otter man, the only one Torak could see. ‘All this is his fault! The outcast angered the Lake, he caused the flood!’
‘No, Yolun,’ said Fin-Kedinn. ‘Not Torak. The Viper Mage.’
‘The Viper Mage!’ sneered the Boar Clan Leader. ‘So you say, but where is she? There’s the Soul-Eater!’ He jabbed his spear at Torak.
‘He’s no Soul-Eater,’ said Fin-Kedinn. ‘He cut out the mark, you can all see the scar.’
But the Boar Clan Leader had the support of the crowd, and it lent him courage. ‘He’s an outcast! The law says an outcast must die!’
‘Then the law must change!’ retorted the Raven Leader.
‘Why? Because you say so?’
‘Because it’s right.’
‘He’s a Soul-Eater and an outcast – ’
‘He’s my foster son!’ roared Fin-Kedinn.
Ravens flew up from the trees. People shrank back.
Nervously, the Boar Clan Leader licked his lips. ‘Since when?’
‘Since now,’ snapped the Raven Leader.
‘Fin-Kedinn!’ called Renn. ‘Catch!’ She threw him Torak’s knife and Fin-Kedinn caught it, then drew the blade across his forearm, raising beads of blood. Grasping Torak’s wrist, he did the same to him, and they clasped hands as the Raven Leader spoke the words of fostering. Then he turned on the crowd and his blue eyes blazed. ‘If he stays outcast, then so do I! Kill him – and you’ll have to kill me too!’
The Boar Clan Leader gripped his spear, but made no move.
No-one stirred.
But Torak sensed that not even the Raven Leader could hold them for long. He saw the violence in their grimy faces; the desperation with which they clutched axes and spears. They’d just survived a disaster, they needed someone to blame. And if Fin-Kedinn stood in their way – or Bale or Renn – they would get themselves killed.
Taking his knife from the Raven Leader, Torak said quietly, ‘I don’t want your blood on my hands.’
The Boar Clan Leader taunted Torak. ‘Hiding behind your foster father?’
‘Fin-Kedinn,’ urged Torak, ‘I’ve got to face them on my own.’
Reluctantly, the Raven Leader moved aside.
‘Where’s your courage now, outcast?’ jeered the Boar Leader.
‘Right here,’ said Torak.
It was a strange relief to be confronting them at last. ‘No more hiding, I’m sick of it!’ he cried as he circled the ring of spears, his arms spread wide. ‘Here I am! You can kill me if you want! Who cares if I’m the wrong target? Who cares if this is what the Soul-Eaters want? The Oak Mage – the Eagle Owl Mage – the Viper Mage – they’re still out there! Kill me, and you solve nothing!’
‘This is a trick,’ spat the Boar Clan Leader. ‘Don’t listen. He’s the Soul-Eater!’
‘I was a Soul-Eater,’ Torak flung back. ‘They made me one against my will.’ With his fist he struck his scar. ‘I cut out their mark – with this!’ Brandishing his knife, he flicked a glance at Renn, and her lips parted as she guessed what he meant to do.
‘My father gave me this knife as he lay dying!’ Torak told them, ‘and here’s how I choose to use it: to prove to you – once and for all – that I’m no Soul-Eater!’
There was a ringing in his ears as he unwound the headband which bound the handle. The last layer came away, and he let fall the buckskin and tilted the hilt to drop its dreadful burden into his palm. The cold red light of the fire-opal blazed out.
The Boar Clan Leader gasped.
Fin-Kedinn’s hand tightened on his staff.
Terror and awe filled every face.
‘The fire-opal,’ said Torak, holding it up for all to see. ‘The heart of Soul-Eater power. This is the last fragment of the one my father shattered. My father,’ he glared at Maheegun, ‘who defied the Soul-Eaters and broke their power! And now it’s mine!’
A soft voice spoke. ‘Give it me.’
Torak turned.
The Viper Mage stood on the ridge above him, twenty paces beyond the ring of spears. Her face and limbs wore the sacred clay of the Otter Clan, and calmly she gazed down upon them: inhuman, invincible.
A shiver ran through the crowd. ‘The Soul-Eater . . . The Viper Mage is come . . . ’
‘Stay back,’ warned Seshru, stretching out her green hand and sweeping them with her forefinger. ‘Death shall come to any who attempt to harm me.’
Such was the power of the Soul-Eaters – such the terror the Viper Mage inspired – that not one of them moved.
‘Give it me,’ she said to Torak, and her words were a caress meant only for him.
He fought to look away from that perfect green face.
A movement caught his eye. Some distance behind the Viper Mage, Wolf stood watching. Silently, Torak warded him back. The Soul-Eater was too strong even for Wolf.
‘Give it me,’ repeated Seshru.
Unable to resist, Torak met her gaze. He forgot the spears, he forgot Bale and Renn and Fin-Kedinn and Wolf. Nothing existed on this ruined hillside except the Viper Mage and the fire-opal, hot and heavy in his hand.
‘I will,’ he said at last. ‘I will give it to you.’
Everyone gasped.
Stooping, Torak placed the fire-opal on a boulder between himself and the Viper Mage. ‘Take it,’ he said. ‘It’s yours.’
Seshru’s black lips parted in a triumphant smile.
Still stooping, Torak snatched a lump of granite in his fist. He raised it high, and the eyes of the Viper Mage widened in horror. As she whipped out her knife and leapt towards him, he shouted, ‘Take it! Take the fire-opal!’ He saw Renn nock an arrow to her bow and aim at her mother; Bale grab the weapons from her hands and take aim in his turn. He saw Seshru give a terrible scream and fall with an arrow in her breast as he brought the granite crashing down and shattered the fire-opal to fragments.
Silence rang from hill to hill.
The granite fell from Torak’s hand as he stared at Bale. The Seal boy stood panting, Renn’s bow in his hand.
Still alive, the scarlet fragments of the fire-opal glittered in the mud.
Still alive, the Viper Mage reached for them: writhing like a snake that has been cut in two.
Renn burst through the throng. Clawing the fragments of the fire-opal in a handful of mud, she pressed them into Seshru’s palm and clenched the green hand in a fist around them, then tied it shut with Torak’s discarded headband. ‘There,’ she breathed. ‘You’ve got what you wanted! The fire-opal dies with you!’
Seshru gazed at the scarlet light bleeding through her fingers, and bared her teeth. ‘This – is not the end,’ she hissed. Blood trickled from her mouth. Her eyes glazed. As her souls left her body, the red glow between her fingers flickered and died.
Grimly, Fin-Kedinn raised his staff. ‘The Soul-Eater is dead,’ he declared. ‘Let all bear witness: the outcast shall be outcast no more!’
After a moment’s hesitation, Maheegun bowed his assent.
Then the Boar Clan Leader.
Then Yolun for the Otters.
Then all the others.
Renn stayed on her knees by the Viper Mage, watching the rain wash away her blood in muddy rivulets.
She’s too close to the body, thought Torak. The souls of the Viper Mage must be perilously near.
Quickly, he took Renn’s medicine horn and poured earthblood into his palm, then grasped her hand and, making sure that she still wore her finger-guard, dipped her forefinger in the ochre and helped her draw the Death Marks on her mother’s forehead, heart and heels. Then he pulled her gently away from the corpse.
The crowd parted to let someone through.
Wolf’s hackles were raised, his lips peeled back in a snarl as he walked stiffly towards the corpse, stalking something no-one else could see.
As the rain fell, Torak watched his pack-brother leap – snap the air – and race off into the Forest, chasing the souls of the Viper Mage away from the living.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The pack is leaving without him, and Wolf knows this must be so – but it hurts.
The full-grown wolves tread neatly in the paw-prints of the leader, but the cubs jostle one another, pouncing on interesting bits of moss.
Digger and Snap see that Wolf isn’t following, and scamper back to fetch him. Come on! Don’t get left behind!
Mournfully, Wolf wags his tail.
The lead female gathers the cubs and they trot after her, looking back in puzzlement.
Darkfur is the last to leave. A wistful glance over her shoulder, then she too disappears.
Wolf woke with a jolt. Lying in the mud, he felt sorrow press upon him. The pack was gone.
Through the trees came the sound of the taillesses beginning to stir. Wolf padded along the rise to sniff the scents.
Since the Big Wet had come roaring through, everything had changed. The Thunderer was gone, and the Big Wet was at peace, although it had grown, and there were fish in the trees, which was odd. The Hidden Ones were quiet, as they had their island to themselves; and the taillesses were no longer hunting Tall Tailless, but had welcomed him back. Wolf didn’t understand why.
Tall Tailless had changed, too. Over the past Lights and Darks, his scent had altered and his howls had become deeper. Wolf did know the reason for this. Unlike wolf cubs, tailless cubs take an extremely long time to grow up, but even they manage it eventually. Tall Tailless was almost full-grown.
Right now, he was in the Den with the other taillesses, having one of his endless sleeps. Wolf wished he would wake up, and sense that his pack-brother needed him.
But he didn’t come.
‘Time to go back,’ said Fin-Kedinn, and Renn, sitting on a rock above the healing spring, nodded, but didn’t move.
Nearby, a group of Otters was returning the sacred clay to the Lake by washing it off their faces. Bale stood at the cliff edge, lost in thought, and Torak was searching the ferns for his name-pebble.
Renn wanted to help, but she couldn’t muster the courage. He hadn’t really talked to her since he’d found out about her mother. She wasn’t sure if they were all right again – or if everything had changed.
The Otters had arrived in their reed boats at dawn. It turned out that they hadn’t needed warnings of the flood, as their Mage had read the signs and led them to safety. That was why Yolun had been sent to the Forest clans’ camp: to warn them.
Nor had the Otters seemed surprised when Fin-Kedinn told them of the Viper Mage. They’d accepted it as they’d accepted the flood which had destroyed their camp – then quietly taken over the funeral rites.
After bearing the body to a remote bay on the north shore, they’d washed the corpse, laid it on a Death Platform, and covered it in juniper branches so that it wouldn’t walk. Then they’d led everyone to the spring, to be purified. They’d gently insisted that Renn should keep a little apart, because, as she’d put the Death Marks on the corpse, she would be unclean for the next three days. She didn’t mind. It was a relief. That’s what she told herself.
‘She left no trace,’ said Torak, making her jump.
He stood on a boulder behind her. She couldn’t see his face for the sun.
‘You didn’t find the name-pebble?’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘What should I do about that?’
She noted that he said I, not we, and wondered if that meant something. Out loud she said, ‘We’ll ask Saeunn. She’ll know.’
The Raven Mage had remained at the new camp on the Hogback, and although Renn would never have admitted it, it was reassuring to know she was there. If Magecraft was needed, Saeunn would do it.
Torak looked over the Lake. ‘The only thing I found was her snake basket. Empty.’ He paused. ‘They didn’t feel evil, those snakes. Maybe they’ll like being free.’
Renn broke off a fern frond and tore it to bits.
Why can’t you just say it, she thought. Torak, I’m sorry I never told you. But it doesn’t change anything, does it? Not really?
But Torak mumbled something about helping Bale look for the wreckage of the skinboat, and then he was gone, and she’d missed her chance.
Fin-Kedinn came and sat beside her.
Renn said, ‘He knows about the Viper Mage. I mean, about me.’
‘Yes, he told me.’
‘Did he? What did he say?’
‘Just that he knows.’
She scrunched up the fern and threw it away.
Fin-Kedinn asked her who else knew, and she said, only Bale. Fin-Kedinn said he thought some of the older Ravens had recognized the Viper Mage despite the green clay, and that Renn should tell them when things had settled down, and she said she would.
Fin-Kedinn said, ‘Are you sorry she’s dead?’
‘No. – I don’t know.’ She scowled. ‘I hated her for so long, and now she�
��s gone. Somehow it feels worse.’
He nodded.
He looked tired. Renn saw the grey hairs flecking his dark-red beard; the lines at the corners of his eyes. With a twist of terror, she realized that he was getting older. People died when they were younger than him. But he was Fin-Kedinn, he couldn’t die.
‘Why can’t things stay the same?’ she cried.
Fin-Kedinn followed a damselfly skimming the water. ‘Because that’s how it is. Everything changes, all the time. Mostly, you don’t notice.’ He turned to her. ‘The thing to remember, Renn, is that not every change is bad.’
She drew a breath that ended in a gulp.
Fin-Kedinn said, ‘Torak was outcast. Now he’s not. That’s a good change. But it’ll take him a while to get used to it.’ Using his staff, he rose to his feet. ‘We’ll go back now. You’re exhausted.’
‘No I’m not,’ she lied.
He snorted. ‘When was the last time you had a proper meal?’
That night, the clans held a feast to give thanks for surviving the flood.
The fish had mysteriously returned to the Lake, and although the Otters didn’t dare remark on this aloud for fear of chasing away the good luck, there was a lightness in them as they bustled about, directing the preparations.
Like everyone else, Torak and Bale had to help, but Renn, being unclean, wasn’t allowed. She hung around the camp, trying not to look spare, then went to find Wolf. She didn’t, but she heard him howling. He sounded sad. She guessed that he was missing the pack, and resolved to take him a treat, to cheer him up.
Before the feast could begin, the best of everything was placed in a reed boat and taken to the Lake; then everyone settled down to eat. It was a cool, still night, and they sat around a long-fire: Otter and Boar Clan, Wolf and Raven. All except Renn, who’d been given her own little blaze at the edge of camp.
The food was better than she’d expected, and Fin-Kedinn was right, she was ravenous. There was stewed elk and succulent bream roasted over alderwood fires; toasted trout cheeks and crisp golden cakes of reed pollen with sweet, sticky gobbets of reed gum; and the thickest, smelliest stickleback grease, which the Otters had taken with them when they’d abandoned camp. This Renn avoided, but she saw Torak – who didn’t know any better – struggling to compose his features after his first mouthful.
Chronicles of Ancient Darkness Page 79