Chronicles of Ancient Darkness

by Michelle Paver

  ‘You think I’m going to fail,’ Torak replied.

  ‘I think you’re brave. But foolish. Such people don’t live long in the Mountains. I hope I’m wrong.’ Touching his clan-creature skin, he stepped back from the sled. ‘Goodbye, Torak. And may your guardian run with you.’

  Juksakai shouted a command to his dogs, and they were off.

  All day they rattled over the ice, climbing first into the foothills and then the Mountains themselves, which remained shrouded in cloud. For a while, Rip and Rek flew alongside Torak, but they were soon off again, as if summoned away. Torak saw no sign of Wolf. He wondered if his pack-brother had caught the scent of the eagle owl, and given chase.

  The wind was bitter. The lowering clouds weighed on Torak’s spirits. He thought of being Lost in the dark beyond the stars. ‘Eternally alive,’ Renn had said. ‘Eternally alone.’

  They camped in a stony hollow where the invisible Mountains loomed over them. This was as far as the sleds could go. Tomorrow they would continue on foot.

  The Swans built shelters by propping the sleds together and draping them with hides weighted with rocks. There were no trees, but fires were swiftly woken. Torak asked how, and Juksakai showed him a heathery plant which burned even when wet. He also showed Torak the cloven tracks of musk-ox, and clots of fine wool snagged on scrub. ‘Be warned. They’re faster than bison and can scale slopes you can’t. And they’re the prey of the Hidden People; we only ever gather the wool.’

  The Swans were good at ice fishing, and a frozen lake yielded a pile of burbot and char. Over nightmeal, Juksakai thawed a little. He told Torak and Renn how his clan hunted in the Mountains with slingshots, and he showed them his clan-creature skin, a plaited wristband of swan hide, dyed red. The Swans, he said, used their clan-creature sparingly: children wore the claws, men the skin, women the feathers, the Leader the beak.

  After they’d eaten, he insisted that Torak and Renn take what he called a steam bath, sitting with hides draped over their heads, dripping water onto hot stones and breathing in the steam. The Swans took no part in this, but watched in unnerving silence.

  When it was over, Torak asked Juksakai why his clan was helping them.

  ‘We’re not,’ he said. ‘We’re helping us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Renn said uneasily.

  The Swan Leader regarded Torak. ‘You seek the Soul-Eater in the Mountain. Maybe when she has you, she will send a thaw, and the antlered ones can eat.’

  Torak grasped the significance of the steam bath: a ritual purification. He gave a wry smile. ‘So I’m a sacrifice.’

  Juksakai did not reply.

  Renn looked stricken.

  The dogs were restless in the night, and Torak slept badly. Renn, too, appeared tired; and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Torak felt the tension between them. He’d known for a while that she was keeping something from him. He wondered when she would have the courage to tell him.

  Another overcast day, and the Mountains stayed hidden. The Swans led them through a snowy pass that followed a rushing river upstream. The ground rose so steeply that Torak and Renn had to use their hands to climb. Breathless, they lagged behind.

  The Swans pitched camp by the river, at the mouth of a deep ravine. Two shelters were swiftly built by stretching hides over existing walls of stone and peat: the remains of Mages’ shelters, said Juksakai.

  Renn slumped on a rock and put her head on her knees.

  Torak took deep breaths, but still felt breathless. ‘What’s wrong with us?’ he panted.

  ‘We’re getting near the sky,’ said Juksakai. ‘Less air. Spirits don’t need to breathe.’ Nervously, he fingered his wristband. ‘This is as far as we go. Tomorrow you’re on your own.’

  Renn sat up. ‘You mean . . .’

  Juksakai nodded. ‘The Gorge of the Hidden People.’

  Torak took a few steps towards the ravine. Precipitous cliffs reared above him, overhung by strange, twisted crags like enormous creatures peering down. A rocky trail wound inwards, following the river. Cloud seeped from the Gorge, shielding the Mountain from view – but Torak felt its icy breath. He saw the Swans muttering prayers; Renn touching the clan-creature feathers tied round her waist.

  After a silent nightmeal, Juksakai took a portion of fish, made a reverent bow to the river, and cast the fish in the water. ‘This is one of the veins of the Mountain,’ he explained.

  Torak asked its name, and Juksakai replied sternly that it was never spoken aloud. ‘But I think you in the Forest call it the Redwater.’

  ‘The Redwater?’ Torak was startled.

  ‘You know it?’

  ‘I – yes. It was near the Redwater that my father died.’

  Leaving Juksakai, he climbed down the bank and stared at the foaming water. This felt like an omen: the past thrusting into the present, like old bones emerging after a thaw.

  An eerie twilight bathed the camp. As Torak turned to face the Gorge, the clouds parted – and at last there it was: the Mountain of Ghosts. Distant still, yet it towered above him. Snow streamed from its single, perfect peak which held up the sky. Its white flanks seemed lit from within by its own sacred light.

  For three summers, Torak had pursued his quest against the Soul-Eaters over Sea and Ice, Forest and Lake – and it had brought him here. In a flash, he perceived that on those far-off slopes, he would meet his destiny. And for him, nothing lay beyond. On the Mountain, he would die.

  This was what Renn had been keeping from him. This was the dread which had been growing inside him.

  Panic flared. Run. Let someone else fight Eostra. You never asked for this.

  But what about Fa?

  The thought dropped into his mind like a pebble in a pool. In some way that he couldn’t yet fathom, his father’s spirit was linked to this: his final quest against the last of the Soul-Eaters. He couldn’t turn his back on Fa.

  As he stood craning his neck at the Mountain, a great loneliness opened up inside him. He needed Wolf.

  Putting his hands to his lips, he howled for his pack-brother.

  The echoes wound into the Gorge of the Hidden People: fainter and fainter, dying to silence.

  After a time, something howled back.

  It wasn’t Wolf.

  Juksakai ran to him, his pale eyes bulging with fear. ‘What was that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Torak. He scanned the darkening campsite. ‘Juksakai,’ he said sharply. ‘Where’s Renn?’

  TWENTY-TWO

  What was that? thought Renn. Not Wolf. Not even a wolf. A dog? No dog sounded like that. Thank the Spirit it was so far off.

  Hurriedly, she pulled up her leggings.

  It had been dusk when she’d left, but now she could hardly see the sides of the gully. Night comes fast in the Blackthorn Moon. She should’ve remembered that.

  With a flicker of irritation, she realized that she was going the wrong way. Those huge slabs of rock aslant each other: she hadn’t seen them before.

  Scowling, she retraced her steps. Stupid to have gone such a distance from camp, she’d only needed to get downstream and out of sight. The Swans had warned her to mark her trail if she went off on her own. ‘Easy to get lost in the Mountains, especially for a girl from the Forest.’ She hadn’t thought it necessary. Now it looked like she was going to prove them right.

  She wasn’t frightened. It wasn’t completely dark, and camp had to be close. It was just that Torak would tease her, and she’d rather not give him the chance.

  Hurrying out of the gully, she slipped on a patch of black ice and nearly fell. She decided to give him the chance. ‘Torak!’ she called.

  No reply.

  ‘Come on, Torak, this isn’t funny! I need to know where you are!’

  No answer. Only the stealthy hiss of wind. The brooding watchfulness of stones.

  Uneasily, Renn remembered that the Swans had pitched camp by the noisy river. Torak wouldn’t be able to hear her.

  And like a fool, she hadn�
��t told anyone where she was going.

  Another howl shattered the stillness. Much closer than before.

  The hairs on her arms stood up. She listened to the echoes die.

  An answering howl, ending in two short barks. A signal.

  She ran, scrambling over mounds of loose scree. This had to be the way back.

  Dead end.

  Stumbling, she headed out. Her mittens slipped off her hands and flapped on their strings like trapped birds. Her breath sounded panicky and loud.

  Darkness closed in. She halted to listen.

  No howls, no terse, signalling barks. That was worse. Whatever hunted her was coming on in silence, as hunters do.

  She ran into a wall of rock. Craning her neck, she saw the glitter of stars. She felt the red glare of the Great Auroch. Horror washed over her. What had Eostra created?

  A trickle of pebbles.

  Straining to pierce the blackness, she made out sheer slopes on either side. She was back in the gully. Around her, shadow shapes shifted and came together.

  High above, something detached itself from the dark. Renn sensed rather than saw it raise its head and snuff the air.

  She fled, leaping over rocks, careening off boulders. The stones watched her go.

  Her foot jammed in a crack and she fell, pain exploding in her ankle. She couldn’t run, couldn’t put weight on it.

  Behind her, she heard the click of claws.

  Hide. It’s your only chance.

  She groped, found a gap and crawled in, dragging her injured foot. She scrabbled for something to block the hole. She couldn’t find anything bigger than her fist.

  She’d have to leave her hiding-place. She couldn’t. She could not do it.

  Pebbles rattled as the creature raced down the gully.

  Crawling out, Renn fumbled for a rock. Found one, too heavy to lift; half-rolled, half-dragged it towards the hiding-place.

  The creature was so close she heard its sawing breath.

  One mitten on its string snagged under the rock. Sobbing with terror, she yanked it free, squeezed into the hole, hauled the rock after her, pulling it tight, shutting herself in.

  Something smashed against it. The force shuddered through her. She clung to the rock, her only defence. She felt a gap where it didn’t fit. Three fingers wide. It felt like a ravine.

  Outside, silence.

  Sweat poured down her spine.

  Through the gap, breath scorched her fingers. Whimpering, she withdrew her hands as far as she dared.

  A growl reverberated through the rocks. Renn screwed her eyes shut. The growl subsided to panting breath.

  Now came the scratching of powerful claws. The creature was digging her out.

  She smelt its stink. She sensed its limitless hunger to destroy. It would drag her screaming from the hole. It would sink in its fangs and rip out her throat as she lay twitching, still alive.

  She couldn’t breathe. But she would rather suffocate than face what was outside.

  As she pressed deeper into the hole, her knife jutted against her hip. Awkwardly, she drew it from its sheath. When the creature came for her, she might be able to ram the blade into its jaws. She might make a brave death, even if there was no-one to see it.

  Abruptly, the digging ceased.

  Renn opened her eyes.

  She heard a wet smack of jaws, as if the creature had jerked up its head. Then the whisper of pads on stone, receding fast.

  Could it really be moving away?

  Renn bit down on her lower lip. Stay here. It’s a feint. It’s got to be.

  It wasn’t. The creature was gone.

  Renn was still cowering in her hiding-place when she heard voices, and Torak calling her name.

  TWENTY-THREE

  ‘I can’t say for sure what it was,’ said Renn as they helped her into the shelter, ‘but I think . . .’ she winced as her injured foot touched the ground.

  ‘I saw a shadow like a huge dog,’ said Torak. ‘Then it was gone. As if someone had summoned it.’

  ‘I didn’t hear anyone calling,’ said Juksakai.

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ said Torak. He described the grouse-bone whistle he’d once made for summoning Wolf. ‘It didn’t make any noise, but Wolf could hear it. If what attacked Renn is anything like a dog, then it can hear what we can’t.’

  Renn sat shivering by the fire. The other Swan hunters were staring. Juksakai told them to go to the other shelter, and they gathered their things, avoiding her eyes. Maybe they could smell the creature on her.

  When only Juksakai remained, Torak helped Renn out of her boots and gently rolled back her legging. She tried not to flinch, but the pain made her eyes water.

  ‘But what was it?’ said Juksakai again.

  Torak didn’t answer. He found his old Forest jerkin, and started cutting a strip for a bandage.

  Renn said, ‘Eostra has the fire-opal. She’s made tokoroths. I don’t know what she’s done to that owl, or to those dogs – if that’s what they are – but she’s made them her creatures. They seem to feel only the will to destroy.’

  Juksakai looked appalled.

  Renn turned to Torak. ‘Those howls. Could you understand them?’

  He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t wolf talk, or any dog that I know. But it sounded as if there were several of them. Maybe a whole pack.’

  Renn stared into the fire. She could still hear those growls; that hungry, sawing breath. Eostra had reared a brood of killers. She had taken the Mountain for her own.

  Shakily, Juksakai poured ice water into a rawhide bowl, added dried willow bark, and mashed it with a stub of antler. He set the bowl beside Renn.

  ‘Let me,’ said Torak.

  ‘I can manage,’ she muttered. From her medicine pouch she took slices of horsehoof mushroom and put them in the bowl. When the strips were soaked, she gritted her teeth and laid the freezing poultice on her ankle.

  She could feel Torak watching her. They both knew what this meant. Five moons ago in the Deep Forest, she’d twisted her knee. It had been two days before she could walk without help.

  Stupid, stupid! she berated herself. Out loud, she told Torak to pass the bandage, then bound her ankle firmly, without wincing, to show him it didn’t hurt.

  He wasn’t fooled. ‘You won’t be able to walk for days,’ he said quietly.

  Juksakai nodded. ‘Tomorrow we’ll carry her down to the sleds. She’ll be all right with us.’

  ‘A day’s rest here and I’ll be fine,’ snapped Renn.

  ‘No you won’t,’ said Torak.

  She glared at him.

  Juksakai glanced from her to Torak, and muttered about rejoining the others.

  ‘One day,’ said Renn after he’d gone. ‘Then we can head into the Gorge together.’

  Torak rubbed the scar on his forearm. ‘Juksakai tells me it’s two daywalks to the Mountain. Souls’ Night is only four days away.’

  ‘So there’s time.’

  ‘No, Renn. Not for you.’

  ‘You can’t decide that for me.’

  ‘I don’t need to.’ He pulled on his boots. ‘I’ll say goodbye now. I’m leaving at first light.’

  There was a ringing in her ears. This wasn’t happening. ‘But – you can’t go all by yourself.’

  ‘I won’t. I’ll have Wolf.’

  ‘He isn’t here.’

  ‘He’ll come.’

  ‘How do you know? You’ll be alone. That’s just what Eostra wants!’

  He did not reply.

  Something in his manner made her look at him, really look. What she saw in his face made her catch her breath. There would be no need to tell him of Saeunn’s prophecy.

  ‘You know,’ she said.

  He nodded.

  ‘How?’

  ‘When I saw the Mountain.’ He touched his breastbone. ‘I felt it. Here.’

  Renn was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘Prophecies can be wrong. We can prove it wrong.’

  ‘Not this time.
’ He paused. ‘Many winters ago, on Souls’ Night, my father woke the great fire and broke the power of the Soul-Eaters. I have to finish what he began.’

  ‘I know. But—’

  ‘And maybe I can do it, even against Eostra. But the thing is, Renn . . .’ He broke off. ‘The thing is, when I try to think about afterwards – about going back to the Forest and being with you and Wolf and Fin-Kedinn – I can’t see it. It’s all just dark.’

  Renn stared at him, aghast.

  She watched him roll up his sleeping-sack and gather his gear. ‘Where are you going?’ she said.

  ‘I’ll sleep in the other shelter, head off at dawn. You stay here. Get some rest.’

  He wore his stubborn look, and she saw that it was hopeless. ‘As soon as I’m better,’ she said fiercely, ‘I’ll catch up with you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I will. And I’ll prove it. Here. Take my wrist-guard. That’s a pledge.’ Somehow, she managed to untie the thongs and grab his wrist. She pushed back his sleeve and fastened the thin oblong of polished greenstone on his forearm. ‘There. You can give it back when I find you.’

  ‘You mustn’t try to find me.’

  ‘You can’t stop me.’

  ‘Renn, listen! That creature ignored me and went after you. Because Eostra wants me alive, at least until Souls’ Night – but she doesn’t care about you. Well, I do.’ He slung his bow over his shoulder. ‘Stay with the Swan Clan. Get better. Go back to the Forest.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Goodbye, Renn. Whatever happens, you know – you must know how much I . . .’ His throat worked. ‘May the guardian fly with you.’ Stooping, he kissed her mouth. Then he turned and ran out into the dark.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The wind howled around the Mountains and swept across the fells. It stirred a thicket fringing a frozen lake, where men crouched around a fire.

  A group of Rowan Clan had arrived on dog sleds, bringing three hunters from the Forest. They’d nearly missed Fin-Kedinn’s camp, as he’d concealed it well, but in the end, their dogs had found him.

  Etan of the Raven Clan spoke urgently to his leader. ‘Fin-Kedinn, we beg you, come back with us! Thull wouldn’t have sent us if he wasn’t desperate. The shadow sickness has spread throughout the clans. There aren’t many people who are well enough to hunt. Those who are don’t dare venture far, for fear of tokoroths. They’re beginning to fight over food.’