The Exile

by Jo Sandhu

Farla hissed in anger and jabbed at the undergrowth with her spear. Kaija held her breath as the girl came closer, and shrank further back into the bushes.

  ‘I know I heard something.’ Farla stopped by the hazelnut bush. Kaija could see the beads on her tunic gleam white through the branches.

  ‘Broda has found something,’ said the man.

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ another girl replied quickly. Through the branches, Kajia glimpsed a short, stocky girl bend to the ground, then jump quickly to hide her hands behind her back. It was the girl who had been cooking down by the river. Kaija recognised the hunched shoulders and broad, flat face. She stared sulkily at Farla.

  ‘What have you got, Broda?’ Farla towered over the cringing girl.

  Broda took a step back. ‘N . . . nothing.’ Her eyes scanned the forest, searching for escape.

  ‘You have something behind your back.’ Farla moved closer again, so close they were almost touching, and smiled coldly at Broda. Kaija shivered.

  ‘I . . . I haven’t.’ Broda glanced uneasily at the man. He leant back against a tree and folded his arms. ‘I haven’t.’ She squeaked as Farla grabbed her by the arm. ‘You’re hurting me,’ she cried.

  Farla twisted Broda’s arm and forced her fist open, taking something from it.

  The man pushed off the tree and sauntered over to the girls. He looked at the object now resting in Farla’s palm. ‘It’s a bead,’ he said.

  ‘My bead.’ Farla glared at Broda. ‘You stole this from me.’

  ‘I . . . I didn’t.’ Broda took a step away from Farla and wet her lips. ‘It was there, on the ground. I found it –’

  ‘You stole it!’ Farla pushed Broda in the chest and she stumbled backwards.

  ‘I was going to return it. It must have fallen off your tunic.’

  Farla looked down at her top. Where Kaija had kicked her, a row of beads had come loose. Farla screamed in anger.

  ‘Look what that thief has done! I will make her pay!’

  She swung her spear in fury. Broda squealed and tried to move back, but her foot caught a rock and she fell. Kaija bit back a cry as Farla’s spear just missed the fallen girl.

  ‘Enough of this.’ The man stepped forward and grasped Farla’s spear. She glared at him, and for a moment they stood, chest to chest.

  Then Farla snorted and wrenched her spear from the man’s grasp. ‘You surprise me, Durk, protecting these thieves. I had thought you stronger than that.’ She snorted again and stalked away from them.

  Broda climbed shakily to her feet, then she and Durk followed, their boots crunching on the newly fallen snow.

  Kaija waited until she could no longer hear them moving through the forest. With their torch gone, it was dark once more, and the snow cover was thicker. But the hazelnut bush protected her from the worst of the snowfall.

  Now the immediate danger had passed, her body started shaking. She carefully slid Tarin’s pack off her back and found his furs. She wrapped them around herself and slowly her shivering subsided.

  She wondered where Luuka and Tarin were, sure that neither had escaped. The image of her brother’s bloody face flashed through her mind. And what of Tarin? He had been reluctant to help her, and now he, too, was a prisoner. She placed her hands over her ears and tried to drown out the sound of his cry.

  She started shivering again, this time from fear. What was she going to do now? The thought filled her mind. She didn’t know when her hands left her ears and crept to the pendant at her throat.

  Spirit of Horse, help me.

  Her fingers traced the shape carved into the bone. Four vertical lines, for the four strong legs of the horse, galloping over the plains. She wished she were a horse and could just run and run forever with no end. She wanted to feel the wind in her mane, and the thud of her hooves striking the ground. She wanted to run away, and never come back.

  But I can’t leave Luuka and Tarin here.

  Kaija’s head sank onto her knees. A great weariness washed over her, and she huddled further into the furs.

  ‘Help me, Spirit of Horse,’ she whispered beneath her breath. ‘Help me to be strong.’ And help me to not run away and leave Luuka and Tarin behind.

  The sound of crashing branches and a shower of cold, wet snow woke Kaija in the m0orning.

  ‘I know you’re in there,’ said a voice, rattling the branches so more snow fell through. ‘You’d better come out now.’

  Kaija crawled from her hiding place and rubbed her eyes. Judging by the pale light filtering through the trees, it was still early. Her breath misted the air around her, and she looked in surprise at Broda.

  ‘I heard you last night.’ Broda pointed a short, sharp spear towards Kaija’s throat.

  Kaija swallowed. ‘Why didn’t you catch me then?’

  A sly smile spread over Broda’s face. ‘Because then Farla would take the credit. Now you’re my catch.’

  Kaija shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold. Plans rushed through her mind, but she discarded each one. Broda looked slow and clumsy, but the point of her spear was tipped with flint, and she hefted it comfortably in her hands. It looked like the spear that had thudded into the tree. Kaija wondered again how anyone could throw a spear with such force. Maybe because they were shorter spears than the ones River Clan used, but it would still take a lot of strength to force a spear through a tree. Maybe Boar Clan had a magic known only to them. Kaija felt the small hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She couldn’t fight magic.

  Broda was searching the ground. She kicked up leaves with her feet and used the spear to turn over small rocks. When she realised what she was looking for, an idea suddenly came to Kaija.

  ‘That bead you found last night was beautiful,’ she said, careful to keep her voice calm.

  Broda stopped her search and frowned. She lifted her spear and pointed it at Kaija. ‘You shouldn’t be talking.’

  Kaija nodded and slipped the fox fur from her shoulder. ‘Can I put my fur away in my pack? Is that all right?’

  Broda looked at her suspiciously, but nodded.

  ‘It was Farla’s bead, wasn’t it?’ Kaija continued, taking her time to roll the fur. She kept her eyes down, but she was aware of Broda shifting her weight from one foot to the other. ‘She had so many. Do you have any beads?’ Kaija risked a small glance up.

  ‘No.’ Broda shook her head. Thick brown plaits swung either side of her face. Kaija stayed silent, pretending she was having trouble with the knots on the pack. Soon, Broda continued. ‘Farla is Borik’s daughter. She has the beads, because she . . . she’s more important.’

  ‘I could see that.’ Kaija unlaced the leather thongs. ‘She must be the most important girl in the clan.’

  ‘No, she’s not!’ Broda’s voice was sharp. Her mouth turned down at the corners and she glared at Kaija. ‘I liked it better when Ern One-Arm was our leader.’

  ‘And Borik is your leader now?’

  Broda nodded and jabbed the tip of the spear into the ground. ‘Since last Fall. They say Ern was sick, but everyone knows Borik dropped him down the Spirit Hole.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The Spirit Hole. It’s in the big cave behind the camp. Borik says it leads to the Spirit World. And tonight we’re having a special ceremony. There’ll be lots of food, and Durk and the hunters have caught a couple of wolves to sacrifice. And you and your friends will be dropped down the Spirit Hole.’

  ‘What!’ Shock made Kaija’s voice squeak and Broda jumped back and raised the spear again. Kaija swallowed hard and clasped her hands to stop them shaking. ‘Then they are still alive?’

  ‘Of course.’ A smile spread across Broda’s face, but her eyes glittered hungrily. ‘That way the Spirits will be more grateful. They will give us power over our enemies.’

  Kaija bent forward over the pack so Broda wouldn’t see her close her eyes briefly. She took a deep breath and opened the pack. ‘And of course Farla will be there wearing that beautiful tunic with all the beads.’ She gla
nced up in time to see the frown descend on Broda’s face once more.

  ‘Everyone will be there,’ Broda said.

  Kaija pushed the fox furs into the pack and slid her hand down towards the small parcel at the bottom. Her fingers closed over the two carved beads. ‘And you don’t have any beads?’

  Broda shook her head.

  ‘Would you like a bead?’ Kaija drew her hand out of the pack, but kept it closed.

  Broda looked at her sharply. ‘You are playing a trick on me?’

  ‘No trick,’ said Kaija. ‘A simple trade. You let me go, and I’ll give you one of my beads.’ And she opened her hand.

  Broda drew her breath in sharply at the sight of the two creamy beads nestled in Kaija’s palm. She reached out to them, but Kaija closed her fist and drew them away.

  ‘Trade first,’ she said.

  Broda nodded and licked her lips. Then her eyes narrowed. ‘I could just take those beads off you when I take you back to camp.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Kaija nodded. ‘But then I’d tell everyone you had them, and Farla would take them off you. She would have more beads . . . and you would have none.’

  The frown on Broda’s face deepened. ‘And what if I let you go?’

  ‘Then I give you a bead. For your very own.’

  Broda studied her, then raised the spear menacingly. ‘Two beads.’

  Kaija bit her lips to stop them stretching into a smile. She forced herself to speak slowly, and reluctantly shook her head. ‘These are precious beads, carved by my mother’s mother, who was a great Spirit Keeper.’

  Broda’s eyes opened wide and she breathed out, the chill air swirling white around her. ‘Are they sacred beads?’

  ‘Very sacred.’ Kaija nodded solemnly. ‘They give great protection to whoever has them. If I were to give you both . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ Broda asked eagerly as Kaija paused and glanced around.

  ‘If I were to give you both,’ Kaija opened her hand again and turned the beads to show the fine carvings on the smooth surface, ‘I would have to ask more in return.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Broda leaned close.

  Kaija could smell fish on her breath, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned even closer.

  ‘I want you to show me the Spirit Hole.’

  Wet earth pressing down on him. Darkness with no end.

  Tarin woke with a start, clawing at the ground. He was lying on rocks, in a cave . . . but . . . he squinted upwards, to where pale light filtered through overhanging vines and a gaping hole in the roof. Not the cave of his nightmares.

  The panic in his chest eased, and he looked around. Rocky floor, jumbled boulders, the sound of birds as they dived through the broken roof and circled the cave. Starlings, Tarin thought. He followed the flight of one as it swooped low, then speared upwards into the air once more. Tarin tried to move, but a rope of woven fur bound him securely to a wooden stake driven deep into the ground. His head hurt, his leg hurt, and his mouth tasted of dust and blood.

  He struggled to sit up. As he did, he heard a low, menacing growl. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he froze, staring at two glowing eyes.

  ‘She won’t hurt you,’ said a voice. ‘She’s tied up, too.’

  Tarin looked closer and saw the eyes belonged to a silver-grey she-wolf. A rope was wrapped around her neck, cutting her flesh. She growled again, softer this time, and lay her head down on her paws with a whimpering sigh. Tarin frowned at the dark band of fur around her leg. An elusive memory flickered through his mind, but it disappeared like mist.

  Two small bundles of dark grey fur stirred by the she-wolf’s side. One opened its eyes and studied Tarin curiously, then yawned and went back to sleep. The other stood on wobbling legs and released a stream of urine. It whimpered and sniffed the mess it had made, before sneezing in disgust.

  Tarin had never been so close to a living wolf, and he watched them in open-mouthed wonder and fear.

  ‘I’m Luuka,’ said the boy.

  Tarin turned from the wolves to study Kaija’s brother. One side of his face was heavily bruised and a gash on his head was crusted with dried blood. His cheeks were hollow, and his tunic covered in mud. He had Kaija’s fair hair and the same blue eyes, but Kaija’s fierceness was missing.

  Tarin shifted uncomfortably on the rocks. His gaze flew back to the wolves, but they didn’t move. ‘I’m Tarin.’

  Luuka nodded. ‘You were with my sister.’

  Memory returned in a rush. ‘Kaija?’ Tarin said urgently, looking around the cave. The wolf’s eyes followed his movements. ‘Did she escape?’

  ‘I think so.’ Luuka winced in pain as he shifted position. His lips thinned and he frowned at Tarin. ‘She should never have tried to rescue me. Why did you let her?’

  ‘Me? Let her?’ Tarin said. ‘She said if I didn’t help her she’d do it herself. And she would have.’

  Luuka’s face relaxed and he shrugged. His moment of spirited anger had obviously tired him. ‘That sounds like my sister.’ He sighed and closed his eyes. ‘Tonight, this will all be over,’ he murmured. ‘Kaija should be long gone by now.’

  Tarin shook his head. ‘No.’ He pulled at the ropes to test their strength. ‘I bet you anything you like that Kaija is hiding somewhere close by, planning some way to rescue us.’

  A reluctant smile broke out on Luuka’s face. ‘I think you’re right. How long have you known my sister?’

  Tarin thought back. ‘Three days,’ he said in surprise. It seemed a lot longer. ‘She saved my life.’

  ‘She has a habit of doing that,’ said Luuka. ‘But not this time.’

  A low growl from the wolf drew their attention. Her lips were pulled back and her fur was raised. She stared at the mouth of the cave. An old Boar Clan woman hobbled towards them, holding a large wooden staff decorated with feathers and bone. She raised the staff in the air and shook it at them. Her voice rose in a singsong chant, but Tarin didn’t understand her words.

  ‘Their Spirit Keeper.’ Luuka’s mouth was a grim line.

  She came closer, and again shook the staff. Now Tarin could see her face was smeared with ash and black ochre. Her long hair was caked with mud and hung around her in woolly lengths. A bone passed through one side of her nose and out the other.

  ‘Oi oi oi aaaaah,’ she wailed, rolling her eyes back in her head until only the whites showed.

  ‘She thinks to scare us,’ said Luuka.

  ‘She is,’ said Tarin.

  The wailing grew louder, and the woman shook the staff fiercely. Bones threaded through lengths of leather clanked against the wood. Animal bones or human bones? wondered Tarin with a shiver.

  The Spirit Keeper brought her face close to him, and her overpowering scent of old sweat and rotten meat made his stomach turn. Green pus oozed from the bone in her nose. She gripped his chin and he struggled to get away, but she was strong for such an old woman. She spat full on his face, then used her hand to spread the saliva around. It stank of mould.

  The wolf snarled and snapped in fury. She pulled against her restraint, driving the leather thong deeper into her wounded neck. The Spirit Keeper laughed and rattled her staff. She took a pouch from around her neck and shook out a handful of powder. Then she darted forward and tossed the powder in the animal’s face. The wolf yelped and retreated. The woman laughed.

  ‘Wormwood and horseradish powder,’ Luuka said, his eyes blazing. He strained against his own restraint. ‘She causes pain to trapped animals, to show how strong she is. But it is all an illusion. She is weak! Weak!’

  Tarin wondered that Luuka could speak so bravely, but the old woman laughed at him and tossed the two boys a strip of meat.

  ‘Eat, little worms. You must have food in your bellies for your big journey to the Spirit World. Then they will see how well we care for you.’ She turned from them and hobbled towards an inky cavity at the back of the cave where she started her chant again, first waving her arms above her head, and then dipping them
into another hanging pouch and slapping red-stained handprints on the rocks.

  ‘That’s the Spirit Hole.’ Luuka’s voice was flat. ‘Where they throw their dead. And some that aren’t dead.’

  Tarin shuddered. He imagined an unearthly coldness seeping from the dark hole, reaching for him. He wrenched his gaze away. He looked at the strip of meat in his hand and his nose wrinkled. ‘Wolverine.’

  ‘And probably very old,’ said Luuka. The wolf whimpered and edged towards him, dragging her stomach along the ground. Luuka smiled at her and tossed her his strip of meat. She sniffed it suspiciously, then snapped it up. She watched Luuka with steady eyes. When she had finished, she dropped her head onto her paws and turned her gaze on Tarin. He squirmed uneasily, noticing the patches of raw skin and the way her bones showed through her fur.

  ‘Why the wolves?’ Tarin asked. ‘And why us.’

  Luuka shrugged. ‘I think it’s their way of showing their power over their enemies. But it isn’t true power.’

  Tarin sniffed the meat once more and wondered what Luuka thought true power was. Hunger? Pain? The Boar Clan’s Spirit Keeper had the power to inflict both those, and more besides. Fear . . . that was her power. So maybe if he wasn’t frightened, she would have no power over him. Her chant rose again, echoing around the cavern. Tarin jumped as a bird swooped low, nearly grazing his head. I am protected by Owl. He held onto that thought and repeated it to himself. He hoped it would give him courage when he faced the Spirit Hole.

  ‘If you don’t want your meat, give it to her. She won’t harm you,’ Luuka said.

  Tarin looked at the she-wolf sitting patiently before him. ‘That’s what you say.’ Her teeth looked very sharp, he thought.

  ‘That’s what she’s telling you,’ said Luuka. ‘See how quietly she sits, waiting.’

  Tarin took the strip of meat and tossed it. Quickly the wolf pounced and swallowed it. Her pups, smelling food, whined and crawled over her, licking her muzzle with their little tongues.

  ‘Watch this,’ Luuka whispered, his eyes never leaving the wolves.

  The she-wolf stood and shook off her pups. They bounded around her, snapping and snarling, as she retched and brought up a watery mess of chewed meat. The pups fell on the food and gulped it down.