Wolf's Brother

by Megan Lindholm

  He pulled his eyes open again. Had he slept? No. He was sure he hadn't slept. He had only closed his eyes. He leaned his chest against his knees and looked down at his bare feet squinched against the black stone. They looked very far away, as far as the misty tent village below. He reached out his hand, watched it travel a long way until it was beside his toes. He touched one of his toes, pressing his finger down on it. Nothing. His toes were so far away he couldn't feel them anymore. '1 can't feel my toes,' he whispered. The bone najd looked at him but said nothing.

  Giddiness swept Kerlew. He clutched his knees, fighting it. His toes, the edge of the ledge, and the far misty village rippled like stones in a stream. The village washed up against the ledge. He reached past his toes to touch one of the tiny tents. He put his fingers against it, but couldn't feel it. Of course. If his toes were too far away to feel, the tents were, too. He giggled, then leaned back suddenly as another wave of dizziness swept him. The world rocked. He pressed his back to the cold hard stone, pushing hard with his feet, trying to make things be still. Then, without warning, the world tilted sideways and he fell backwards into darkness.

  He was in a dark place. Water dripped down the cold stone walls, clung to the roots that festooned the ceiling. He tried to stand up, but could not. He couldn't move at all. He tried to touch his own body, but couldn't find his hands. He couldn't find himself at all. He couldn't even see himself. But he could see the others.

  They sat about the small chamber, backs braced against the stone walls. Two were playing tablo. The other had his talismans spread before him.

  'Here's one who hopes to be a najd,' said one of the tablo players. He looked over at Kerlew and smiled. He was very old; his face was like a wrinkled hide and his hair as sparse as a dog's whiskers. Even his scalp was brown and wrinkled. 'Would you care for a game, first?'

  Kerlew kept still. These were the ones who would trick him, the ones trapped between. If he spoke to them, he would be trapped with them. He did not even shake his head.

  'Ah, he's too wise to be caught that way,' observed the other tablo player. He was much younger than the first najd. He was dressed in sleek otter skins and his teeth were very white. 'Carp warned you not to speak to us, didn't he? He's a sly one, Carp is. Did he tell you not to be afraid of anything you meet?'

  Just in time he bit down on his tongue and kept it from moving. He wondered how he was going to get out of the chamber. Everywhere was darkness and damp, and all he could see clearly were the three old najds. And he could not find his body to make it walk away. All he could do was keep silent and watch.

  'Ah!' muttered the last najd to himself. 'This is what was needed. Here he is at last.' This najd was a small man, not much larger than Kerlew. A sleek black cloak wrapped his shoulders. Even in the dim chamber, it had a blue sheen. His hair was black streaked gray, and he wore a necklace of bear's claws. He had been rummaging in a small basket beside him. Now he took out something small and brown. He held it in his cupped palm, and turned his head sideways to bring one bright eye close to it. His eyes were very black and shining and when he smiled he bobbed his head up and down. He reminded Kerlew of someone. Something. Now he turned his head sideways and smiled. 'Come here,' he said. 'Don't speak. But he never told you not to look, did he? Come and see what has been missing?'

  Then Kerlew was beside the old najd, looking into his wrinkled hand. The tablo players had receded into darkness. Only this one was left. He patted the soft green moss beside him, and Kerlew found himself. He sat, wondering at possessing a body again. Birds were singing in the willows on the river-bank behind them. The old najd waved them to silence. Eyes shining, the old najd tipped his hand to the boy. His callused palm cupped a tiny wolf of brown bone. Its eyes were black and its tongue was red. As he watched, it sat up on the najd's hand and looked up at Kerlew.

  'Ah! Ah!' The shaman made a laugh of the words. 'He knows, you see! He should not be in my basket at all. And you have something of mine, perhaps? No? Look in your pouch, young najd. Something there does not belong. Look in your pouch.'

  Kerlew hesitated. But Carp had told him to do what felt right. This felt right. He unslung his new pouch, the one Carp had demanded from Joboam, from his shoulder. He untied the thongs. Slowly he drew the items from his pouch, spreading them in an arc before him. Knife and bloodstone and piece of blade. Amber and bird's foot and rabbit's tail. Wolverine's tooth.

  'Aahh!' The old one sighed, impressed. Then he lifted cunning eyes to Kerlew's face. 'You would not trick an old man? The trade must be fair. I have what is yours. But I shall not give it to you until you give me what is mine. These are objects of power, but mine is not among them. Give me what is mine.'

  Kerlew's eyes wandered over his talismans. But everything here was his, gathered fairly. All of these, he knew, were his. But the old najd only smiled the wider, so many teeth, and said, 'Give me what is mine.'

  Kerlew picked up his shaman's bag to see if something had rolled under it. No. Nothing. But within the bag, something whispered and rustled. Something light and bony. Trepidation washed through him, but he reached into the pouch. Brittle, it rolled under his fingertips, making his skin crawl. He lifted it into the bright sunlight.

  'Mine,' said the old najd, and the little bird skull grinned at him. 'It is what I have been needing. Just as you have been needing this.' He extended his hand with the tiny wolf to Kerlew. The wolf sat alertly, his tail swept neatly around his forepaws. His little black eyes were bright as he looked up into Kerlew's face. Kerlew's heart howled for the wolf. He did not need to think. He dropped the little owl skull into the old najd's hand. And was suddenly glad to be rid of it. Then the old najd's hand tipped. But the tiny wolf scrabbled his claws against the old najd's hand and would not leap to Kerlew.

  The old najd looked suddenly troubled. He righted his hand and the tiny wolf once more sat flat in it. The old najd looked at Kerlew with his round black eyes. 'Something is wrong here,' he said gravely. 'Something is very wrong.' He tilted his head toward the tiny wolf, listening. Then he straightened to regard Kerlew stonily. 'You are not herdfolk.'

  A coldness swept Kerlew that made the hot sting of tears a sharp pain. The tiny wolf in the najd's hand curled up, swept his tail over his nose and closed his eyes. Shut Kerlew out. He would have spoken, forgetting Carp's warning, if he could have thought of words. He could only stare mutely into the najd's bottomless eyes.

  'Ah.' The old najd nodded somberly. 'Well, let us see what is wrong. Let us see why you are not herdfolk.' He closed his hand into a knot around the tiny wolf, and gestured to Kerlew's spread talismans.

  'Ah. See this?' The bony finger that pointed at the blade fragment had a long yellow nail. It swept suddenly across the arc of the power items. 'See here?' The wolverine tooth. 'And see.' To the Knife. 'And at last.' The amber. 'It is all very plain.'

  Kerlew lifted eyes to the old najd, silently begging him to explain. He put a cautioning finger against his lips. 'Listen. It is plain. This,' a finger tapped the knife fragment, 'is a debt. This,' the Knife, 'will pay it. The one who holds the knife will draw the wolverine's teeth. The stone is on the blood, and the blood is on the stone. And Wolf will bring it all together.' The old najd nodded with immense satisfaction.

  Then he looked very stern. 'But you are not herdfolk. You have no Wolf, nor do you belong to Wolf. You know why. When you took on the debt of the Knife, you took on a duty to the herdfolk. You have not kept it. You have let harm walk boldly among them. What he does is wrong. Reindeer, who watches over the herdfolk, who feeds and clothes them, is very angry with him. He will demand an accounting. And you. You must arm the Wolf and destroy the Wolverine. I will free what is mine. But you must do the rest, little najd.' He leaned very close to Kerlew.

  'I could whisper a word to my little wolf. I could tell him that to go with you would be to go with me. That you are to be the najd of the herdfolk. That it is right for you to hold the tokens of the herdfolk in your hands. Ah, but then, but then if y
ou did not keep your duty ... Wolf would tear your throat out!'

  The old najd had leaned ever closer as he spoke, and on the last words his mouth elongated into a snarling muzzle that opened wide and his canines flashed long and white before Kerlew's face. Kerlew tightened his belly muscles but did not draw back. The old najd sat back suddenly and laughed softly. He pulled his lips down over his teeth and resumed his own face. 'Yes, yes. You are the Wolf's, yes. But he will not be yours until you are herdfolk. Will you be herdfolk?'

  Kerlew hesitated fractionally before bobbing a nod. He would have offered the blood warm from his body to hold Wolf in his hand. His chest heaved with the depth of his wanting.

  'Ah. Then. Keep the bargain of the Knife. That is all. She who you freed left a place empty, a task unfinished. Finish the task and take the place. Free your people of that which plagues them. Will you do this?'

  Again Kerlew nodded. The old najd copied him. 'Good. They have been alone long, and I have suffered with their pain. You take a burden from me. Here.' He turned slightly aside from Kerlew, lifted the wolf to his lips, and whispered over him. Then he reached suddenly to grip Kerlew's wrist with fingers as cold and hard as bone. He dragged the boy's hand toward him, pinched his thin wrist until his coiled fingers opened.

  And dropped Wolf into his palm. Kerlew looked down on the coiled figure.

  'He sleeps,' the old najd whispered. 'But he is with you. Listen. Once you have earned him, he will help you. He will make a proper cover for the drum. Then, when you are alone, you can drum for him and he will dance for you. But, first!' A cautionary finger in Kerlew's face. 'First, you must listen and obey. This is what you must do to earn him.' The old najd paused suddenly, listening. His face became very grave and sad. 'To the first who comes, you must say nothing. NOTHING! This will be hard, and your pain will be great. But Wolf will drink the blood of your pain, and be satisfied. It is the beginning of being herdfolk. This you do for Wolf.' He nodded to himself. 'To the second one who comes, give this.' The owl's skull rustled icy against his palm. 'Say, 'Be free!' Then that debt is paid.' His expression softened. 'This you do for me.'

  The old najd smiled suddenly, black lips writhing back from white teeth. 'Then comes Wolf. Yes, Wolf comes and you place your hand between his eyes. And go with him, to be najd of the herdfolk, and to pay your last debt. That, you do for yourself.' The old najd leaned back with a sigh of deep contentment. 'Long have I waited for you. Long and long. Now you are here. And I can rest. Gather your things and come. Take them all, now. All are properly yours.'

  Kerlew picked up his power objects, dropping each carefully into his pouch. Then he watched the old najd place each of his in a basket. The bright bundled feathers and the dyed cubes of bone in red and blue; a string of fat ivory teeth; the black-bladed knife and a talley of calf-ear bits. He put the lid on the basket and tucked his drum under his arm. The owl skull Kerlew kept in his hand. 'Come now,' the old najd said. He rose with a crackling of knee bones. 'We cannot keep her waiting.' Kerlew put his hand in the najd's bony one and they stepped into darkness. And out again.

  The bright light of the day blinded him. Tears ran and rainbow colors washed over the village below. Kerlew swayed on the ledge, feeling the fresh winds of the high place brush past him. He was back. He was back and alive. But what of his spirit guardian? What of a vision? He turned to the old najd at his side.

  'Comes the first,' breathed the najd.

  Kerlew looked up. Carp stood before him, smiling, showing the familiar blackness between his teeth. Then the blackness went blue as Carp rippled in the wind. Kerlew recoiled in surprise. 'Well, apprentice?' Carp demanded in an airy voice. 'Have you no word of welcome for me?' He leaned over Kerlew, smiling insubstantially. 'Are you not glad to see me? I have decided to come with you, to guide you to the spirit world. There I will show you many wonders and gift you with many powers. Give me greeting, take my hand, and we will go together.'

  Kerlew sat still, frozen with fear. Confusion milled through his mind. The bone najd had told him not to speak to the first one. Carp had told him, many times, that he must find his own path to the spirit world, and enter alone. Something was wrong here, something chilling and evil.

  'Do not be afraid, little apprentice.' Carp's words were warm and dripping, rich as fresh liver. They reached inside Kerlew, pulled at him. He bowed over his knees with the pain of resisting them.

  The bone najd spoke coldly. 'There is no place for you here, forest najd. And Kerlew will not take your place nor give you his. Walk the path you have chosen.'

  Carp suddenly went flat and snarling, his back rippling as angrily as his spirit beast. His growl was the growl of Wolverine enraged. His teeth were sharp and white as he leaned forward and sank them into Kerlew's clenched fist. The blood ran red between his fingers, and the tiny wolf within his fist stirred and growled. Kerlew's mouth stretched wide in soundless agony. Blackness closed in on him. He felt Wolverine worrying his hand from his wrist, felt the parting snap.

  'Go back.' The bone najd lifted his drum-claw. 'Go back and finish dying, forest najd.'

  There was a sound like an old tent splitting in the wind. The pain stopped. Kerlew opened his eyes. His hand was on the end of his wrist, unmarked. He felt Wolf stir within it. Carp stood just off the edge of the ledge, looking suddenly mournful. 'A last word,' he begged, and it was the voice of the tired old man Kerlew knew.

  'No.' The bone najd forbade it, and Carp suddenly tattered to pieces and was swept away on the wind. Something ripped out of Kerlew and went with him, like a hook tearing free of his flesh. He hunched over his knees, feeling his pain run hot down his face. He did not know how many lifetimes it lasted. When he could lift his head, the day was blue and clear before him. He looked down on the tiny herdfolk village below him. Below him, their lives went on. Folk clustered and shouted thinly by the reindeer pens, children raced between the tents, the herd gazed on the meadows and flanks of the Cataclysm.

  The ledge was suddenly darkened, the opening to the niche blocked by a dark shape. Kerlew breathed in sudden fear, hid his hands from more pain.

  'Comes the second,' the bone najd sighed. She filled the opening to the niche, closing the day away from them. Her feathers were sleek and gleaming. She stood, looking down on Kerlew and he almost knew her. But she was not for him. She had come for the bone najd with the bird-bright eyes, and it was for him that Kerlew lifted the tiny skull in his hand. She took the owl talisman into her hand. 'Be free,' he told her. She smiled suddenly, eyes as black as Raven's feathers. She leaned far out, looked down to the village below. Kerlew followed her gaze. The meadow at the foot of the steps teemed with folk, all crying out in thin voices and waving their arms. Owl gazed down on them for a long moment. Then she spread wide her wings and swooped. Kerlew watched her silent flight. Shrill squeals of terror rose as she descended on her prey. She would feed well. The bone najd looked satisfied. Kerlew leaned back once more in his niche, to await the third. The morning passed its peak, and the warm sun of afternoon touched Kerlew's feet with feeble fingers. And still Kerlew was patient, knowing he would come.

  He came as hot panting breath, as the scent of warm life and fresh blood. He felt like a rush of sleek fur under Kerlew's hands, like a tumble of cubs against his chest. He stood before Kerlew, larger than the moon, and his eyes were green. His narrow black lips writhed in a smile that bared brave white teeth, and Kerlew laughed in joy with him. Tears washed his eyes clean and he saw his brother. The hand he reached was not to claim or to subdue, but to touch with fondness. His brother suffered the touch of his human fingers upon his furred brow. 'Wolf,' he whispered. Joy was hot in him. 'At last you have come.'

  'Kerlew,' whispered Wolf, and his voice was a voice to trust at last.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tillu awakened slowly. She had drifted at the edge of sleep for much of the night, feeling that she should rise and go back to Capiam's hut, but never finding the willpower to leave the body comfort of the nest of hides an
d Heckram's warm chest rising and falling beneath her cheek. She pushed a handful of hair back from her eyes. A dim light gave substance to the furnishings of the tent, color to the woolen blanket that wrapped her close to Heckram. Bird sounds, and the mutter of folk moving past the tent. Morning sounds. She sat up abruptly, suddenly awake.'Kerlew!' she said aloud. And then, 'Kari!' At the sound of her voice, Heckram reared up and sat blinking in the light.

  'It's morning,' he said blearily. For a moment he sat still, catching up with himself. Then he reached across Tillu to scoop up their clothes. 'Here,' he said, thrusting the wrong shirt at her, 'you've got to get to Kari, talk to her. Take her to Ristin, if you want. Or to Stina. Tell them what's wrong, and let them take care of it. But do it quickly, before they start making her ready for the joining ceremony. I've got to get up the Steps, after Kerlew.'

  Tillu experienced a moment of disorientation. Someone else had taken charge. She smiled a crooked smile as she pushed his shirt back at him and found her own. She wasn't sure if she liked being directed. But as she pulled her shirt on, she thought of the alternative; of being responsible for everything, handling not only every problem but every decision, however minor. She could find nothing wrong with his suggestions; it was only that he had voiced them first. 'You'll find Kerlew for me.' She said the words aloud, trying them out. The confidence she felt in him surprised her.

  'Yes. And I'll bring him back to you, not Carp.' Heckram pulled on his leggings as he spoke. He glanced over his shoulder at her. He stopped suddenly and looked at her, long. She looked back, wondering what to say. Nothing, she decided. They would not need to always explain things to each other. They already understood. So she didn't apologize as she stuffed Kari's knife into her belt and ducked out of his tent. It wasn't necessary.