The Exile

by Jo Sandhu

  ‘That’s how she feeds them,’ Luuka said, and his voice sounded as though he were fighting back tears. ‘She is starving herself . . . she has no more milk. She gives everything to them, to make sure her babies survive.’

  The pups sniffed the floor of the cave, then when they could find no more food, they curled into little balls and snuggled into their mother’s warmth. The she-wolf licked their fuzzy heads and curled herself around them.

  Tarin shook his head in amazement. ‘But . . . but they are animals,’ he said.

  ‘And Boar Clan are human beings.’ Luuka’s gaze returned to the Spirit Keeper. She had finished her chanting and was coming back towards them.

  ‘Now you must bathe,’ she said. ‘Purify yourself for the Spirits.’ She waved her arms and a shadow waiting by the cave entrance scurried towards her.

  ‘Go and bring your father.’ She cuffed the young boy around the head. He hurried away, returning shortly with a tall, fierce-looking hunter. ‘It is time these two were made ready,’ she said. ‘Take them to the river.’

  ‘You interrupt my spear training for this?’ The hunter frowned at her.

  ‘Do not presume to question me, Durk.’ The Spirit Keeper hit him with the staff. ‘Your games mean nothing to me.’

  Durk scowled, but said nothing more. He hauled the two boys to their feet and wrapped the leather thong around their necks. ‘Try anything and I will break your necks. I do not care whether you enter the Spirit Hole alive or dead,’ he hissed.

  The boys stumbled after him, blinking in the brighter light of day as they moved out of the cave. Tarin realised they were now at the southern end of the camp, halfway up a hill. From where he was, he looked down on the river and the huts and across to the cliff path that led back to the pine tree bridge and rocky beach.

  ‘Move!’ Durk pushed Tarin and he lurched forward. Loose rocks slipped under his feet and he stumbled unsteadily down the hill to the flat by the river. A group of men and boys sitting around the cooking fire laughed and jeered at them. Half-finished spears lay scattered on the ground. An elderly man, his face puckered with scars, lashed a bone tip to the end of one, and another man stuffed grass into a leather pad to use as a target.

  ‘Durk! When you have finished playing mother to those two, come and test the strength of your arm.’

  Durk waved but didn’t stop. One of the small boys sitting around the fire threw a bone at them. It struck Luuka on the shoulder, and the men roared with laughter. A girl carry­ing a large bladder of water stopped what she was doing and stared open-mouthed at them.

  ‘Get about your work,’ Durk snarled, and forced the boys to keep moving to the river.

  They waded out knee-deep and, holding him by the back of his neck, Durk forced Tarin under the water until he thought his lungs would burst. He tried to scratch the hands that held him so strongly, but the man just laughed. Finally, he released Tarin and pulled him up.

  Tarin gasped and coughed. Water streamed from his hair and sodden fur, and he lay shivering on the riverbank while Luuka suffered the same treatment. Durk left them there on the bank while he joined the men around the fire. The weak sun did little to warm them.

  ‘Tarin,’ Luuka whispered. ‘See over there, that man with the spear?’

  Tarin followed Luuka’s gaze. At the other end of the camp, the leather target had been set against a tree. The man with the scarred face paced out the distance.

  ‘He’ll never make that,’ Tarin said. ‘That’s too far!’

  ‘But look at their spears.’ Luuka kept his voice low. He cupped his hands and blew on them.

  ‘They’re short,’ said Tarin. He raised an eyebrow towards Luuka. ‘You know something about these spears. What is it?’

  Luuka shook his head. ‘You’ll see.’

  Tarin frowned. He was cold and hungry, and he didn’t want to play guessing games. ‘They’re thinner than the spears my clan use to hunt with. Such a thin spear would never bring down a mammoth or a bison.’ He watched the man pick up a short, flat stick with a leather strap wrapped around it to form a loop. ‘And what’s that? That’s not a spear. That wouldn’t hit anything.’

  ‘Quiet and watch,’ said Luuka.

  Tarin bit his lip, but didn’t answer. The scarred man laid his spear along the stick and then, holding onto the leather loop, cast towards the target. The back of the stick rose in the air and pushed the spear further than the arm of a hunter ever could. It landed with a thud in the leather pad.

  ‘Hah!’ the man shouted. ‘Match that, Durk.’

  Durk nodded his head. ‘A respectable throw, for an old man. But let me show you how it’s done.’

  He chose his own spear from the pile. This one was tipped with flint and the shaft of the spear notched with two feathers. Again, the flat stick rose to push the spear higher and faster. This time, the spear not only landed in the target – it split it in two and drove into the tree behind it.

  Tarin swallowed hard. He couldn’t take his eyes off the spear where it hung stuck in the tree trunk.

  ‘How?’ he whispered.

  ‘It’s the spear thrower,’ Luuka said. ‘I saw them using them the first day I was captured. Some say the Spirits sent Borik a vision of the spear thrower, and that’s how he became leader.’

  ‘I’ve never known Spirits to work like that,’ Tarin murmured. His thoughts were full of the spear thrower. With a weapon like that, even he could hunt. If he could adapt the design to fit the heftier spears of the Mammutti . . . and with a larger tip . . . something more like the long, sharp flint blades Jarrko made, that would pass through the thick hides of the mammoth . . .

  ‘Others say he stole the idea off the last leader, Ern One-Arm, and then killed him.’

  ‘That sounds right,’ said Tarin. Then he sighed. What was he thinking? Adapt the spear thrower? He would never get the chance. This evening, at Last Light, he and Luuka were to be thrown into the Spirit Hole. They would never get the chance to try the spear throwers for themselves, and they would never get the chance to hunt with them.

  ‘Move, worms.’ Durk shoved them to their feet and pushed them back towards the cave. He lashed them once more to the stake, tightening their bonds until the ties cut into their flesh.

  ‘Won’t be long now.’ He laughed as he turned to leave. ‘The light fades fast this time of year.’

  Tarin dropped his head onto his knees. His clothes were wet and the chill air in the cave made him shiver. He looked over towards the she-wolf. She lay with her head on her paws, watching him, then she lifted her head and howled – a haunting sound, calling to her lost pack. Tarin felt an echo of her pain deep inside and he mourned for his own lost family. Was it here his journey was going to end?

  ‘What’s your totem?’ he asked Luuka.

  ‘Horse,’ said Luuka. They were sitting back to back, and no longer able to see each other. Tarin thought his voice sounded strained. ‘What’s yours?’

  ‘Owl,’ said Tarin. ‘I am Tarin of Mammoth Clan, protected by Owl.’

  ‘Hmm . . . Mammoth Clan. Isn’t that a northern clan?’

  ‘One of the Mammutti clans,’ Tarin said.

  ‘I am Luuka, son of Senja, healer of the Third Cave of the River Clan. Protected by Horse. It is nice to meet you, Tarin of the Mammoths. It is a shame we meet only now, when we are about to meet the Spirits.’

  Kaija stood staring at the small opening in the hillside. It was no bigger than an animal burrow.

  ‘That’s your secret way to the Spirit Hole?’ She rubbed sweaty palms down her leggings and chewed her lip. ‘Isn’t there any other way?’

  ‘Unless you want to march through the camp, this is the only way.’ Broda stood back with her hands on her hips. ‘Now give me my bead.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Kaija squinted into the hole, but the blackness inside was absolute. Cold, stale air touched her face, hinting at a passage of great depth. ‘And this leads to the Spirit Hole?’

  ‘It leads to the main cave. The Spirit Ho
le is there.’

  ‘And Luuka and Tarin are in the main cave?’

  ‘Until Last Light, then they’ll be thrown into the Spirit Hole. No one comes back from the Spirit Hole.’

  Kaija shivered and swallowed hard. The small passageway could be a trap, but she had no choice. She would have to trust Broda. Then a thought occurred to her.

  ‘How did you know about this tunnel?’

  She glanced up in time to see a sulky look cloud the girl’s face again.

  Broda shrugged. ‘I was . . . checking . . . the Offerings one day, on the ledge near the Spirit Hole. Sometimes, to ask the Spirits for special favours, people leave offerings of food or weapons or . . .’

  ‘Beads?’

  Broda glared at Kaija and thrust her jaw forward. ‘Or beads.’

  ‘And you were caught?’ Kaija imagined the scene. Broda sneaking into the cave and then hearing approaching footsteps. The only place to hide – a small cavity in the rocks.

  ‘This tunnel leads down to a cave off the main chamber.’

  ‘And no one else knows about it?’ Kaija didn’t want to be walking into a trap or a dead end. She frowned suspiciously as Broda hesitated. ‘Well? Does anyone else know about this secret tunnel?’

  Broda scratched her nose and sniffed. ‘I think Hela, the Spirit Keeper, does. Sometimes, when she’s doing a ceremony, she just appears out of nowhere. Everyone else thinks it’s because she’s magic, but I watch her. I think she uses the tunnel.’

  Kaija nodded her head. The River Clan shaman often did the same. They used tricks and misdirection – powdered herbs to create mist, fermented drinks that affected the mind, darkened caves and flickering shadows. She imagined a secret tunnel would be very useful.

  Broda shuffled her feet impatiently. ‘You must hurry.’

  Kaija glanced at the pale sun overhead. The day was half gone. By Last Light, she and the boys had to be a long way from Boar Camp.

  ‘Give me my bead now,’ said Broda.

  ‘No.’ Kaija shook her head. ‘This could still be a trap, or it may not lead to the cave.’

  ‘But I told you it does!’ Broda clenched her fists and stepped towards Kaija.

  Kaija didn’t flinch. ‘When I’ve found the cave, then you can have the bead.’

  ‘But what if you’re caught? Then I don’t get my bead! And I’m not going down there with you. If they catch me, I’ll be thrown in the Spirit Hole, too.’

  Kaija chewed her lip, thinking. ‘Then wait by the main entrance. Try and look like you’re busy, then if someone comes, you can warn me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Kaija dropped to her hands and knees. ‘Hoot like an owl or throw some rocks or something.’ Then she took a deep breath, and crawled into the darkness.

  The tunnel was larger than she first thought, and Kaija was able to walk with her shoulders hunched. It was black, but a faint light from above penetrated a short way, showing her grey rock walls, a low ceiling and a twisting downward slope. But the slope was steep, and more than once Kaija felt herself slipping. She kept both hands stretched in front of her, and felt her way down. The ceiling dipped lower, forcing her to crawl once more on hands and knees. The pack on her back scraped the rock roof.

  It was dark now, the twisting tunnel shutting off any light from above or below, and the air felt different, as though she were in a much larger cave. Kaija reached forward with one hand, but encountered only empty space where the ground should be. Her heart plummeted and she froze, scared to move forward, scared to move backwards. Rushing noise filled her head.

  Broda! she hissed under her breath. The sound echoed in the rocky cavity. Panic threatened to overwhelm her.

  Think, Kaija. Think.

  She unclenched her fists and took a long, slow breath. Maybe there was a turning she missed? But as she crouched in the darkness, she realised two things: a cold breeze was blowing upward from the shaft in front of her, and sounds drifted from below, magnified and distorted. Voices, and . . . Kaija gasped as an unearthly howl filled the darkness. Was that the Spirits? Her blood pounded through her veins. Her heart raced, and small, shivery bumps covered her body.

  Spirit of Horse, help!

  Her breath caught in her throat in painful little gasps. She turned, ready to fly back through the tunnel, and cracked her head on the low rock.

  This is what you wanted, she told herself severely. You wanted to reach the Spirit Hole.

  But I didn’t want any Spirits to be there!

  To go back was unthinkable. She would have to give up all thoughts of rescuing Luuka and Tarin. To go forward was impossible. Broda said no one ever came back from the Spirit Hole. Kaija rocked back and forth on her heels, undecided. If Broda was telling the truth and the tunnel led to the main cave, there must be a way down the shaft.

  Her hand reached forward, to the edge of the rock. Then she swung her legs around and sat on the edge. There was definitely a breeze blowing from below, so it wasn’t a dead end. Kaija swallowed and her mouth felt dry. Before she could change her mind, she turned over onto her stomach. She balanced against the edge of the shaft, and then stretched her legs downwards. Her feet scrabbled against the vertical walls. Her arms burned and her fingers ached, clutching onto the rock, but then her feet found a small ledge. She eased her weight onto it and drew in a large, shuddering breath.

  She found another handhold, and reached one leg down. This time, she felt a solid rock beneath, and stepped down onto it. Another large rocky step, and another, and soon, Kaija was at the bottom of the shaft. She sat down on the sandy floor until her arms and legs had stopped shaking.

  Now the murmur of voices was clearer. She followed the sound and the touch of the breeze to a small tunnel that ran off the main shaft. A faint light shone, and Kaija moved quietly now, certain she was almost at the main cavern.

  The light grew stronger. Now she could see the tunnel walls, the rocks, her own hands in front of her face. She hurried along the passage as fast as she dared. A voice spoke, and Kaija’s heart leapt. The words were muffled and indistinct, but there was something familiar in the tone and rhythm.

  ‘Luuka!’ She breathed the word.

  The tunnel opened out suddenly, but its entrance was hidden from the main cavern by large rocks. Kaija edged closer to the rocks and raised her head. She nearly cried aloud when she saw Luuka and Tarin a short distance away from her. Tears blurred her eyes and she forced herself to stay still. She wasn’t sure who else was in the cave.

  Luuka looked tired, and in pain. He lay with his eyes closed, and for a moment Kaija thought he was dead. But then she saw the gentle rise and fall of his breath, and the tight feeling around her own chest eased.

  Tarin sat with his back to Luuka. He turned his head to speak to him, and Luuka roused slightly, but neither saw Kaija hiding in the rocks. She shifted her feet, making no sound, but then she paused. What had she heard? A movement? A sound? No, it was the feeling of being watched . . .

  The hairs on her scalp and along her arms prickled, and slowly, ever so slowly, she turned to face the shadows. Something was there, lurking. Two orange eyes glowed with cold fire. Kaija’s breath froze in her throat as the shadow moved. A low growl, lips pulled back in a snarl. A wolf!

  She felt the blood drain from her face.

  A wolf! And she had no weapon. She could almost feel the savage teeth ripping her throat. Maybe if she closed her eyes, it would be fast.

  But she couldn’t meet her death in darkness. If she was to die, she wanted to meet her fate with her eyes open. She wanted to see the Spirits who came for her.

  The wolf moved forward, ears flat against its head, fur bristling and tail straight out. Two small pups wound around its legs, but the wolf paid them no attention. Its eyes focused on Kaija and it moved towards her.

  Life returned to Kaija’s frozen limbs, and she took a step backwards, resisting the urge to run. Her foot wobbled on a rock, and she lost balance. She cried out as she sat down hard
on the rocky ground. Air rushed from her lungs. She lay helpless, waiting for the wolf to pounce.

  ‘Kaija?’ Luuka’s voice was weak, but she heard his call.

  ‘O . . . over here,’ she stammered, keeping her eyes on the wolf. ‘There’s . . . there’s a . . . a wolf . . .’

  ‘Stay still,’ Luuka said. ‘Can you see the tie around her neck?’

  Kaija swallowed and dragged her eyes from the gaze of the wolf. Now that Luuka had pointed it out to her, she could see the rope wrapped around the wolf’s neck. It strained tight.

  ‘She’s tied up,’ said Luuka. ‘She won’t hurt you. Just move slowly around the edge of the cave.’

  Kaija wet her dry lips and struggled to her feet. The wolf growled low in her throat, but made no attempt to attack. The orange eyes followed her as she edged carefully around the rocks, to Luuka and Tarin on the other side.

  ‘Luuka! Oh, Luuka!’ Kaija sobbed and threw her arms around him.

  ‘Don’t let the Spirit Keeper see you.’ Tarin twisted his head around to them.

  ‘Tarin!’ Kaija embraced Tarin fiercely, then sat back on her heels and wiped her eyes. ‘We have to get out of here.’ She pulled her flint knife from her belt and cut their ties. Tarin rubbed his burning wrists and helped Luuka to his feet.

  ‘The wolves, too.’ Luuka clutched his ribs. ‘We have to save them.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ Kaija gasped.

  ‘I’m not leaving without them.’ Luuka knelt before the she-wolf and reached his hand towards her.

  ‘He is mad,’ Kaija whispered. Tarin held his breath, but the wolf didn’t attack. She sniffed Luuka’s hand and whimpered, then reached forward to lick his fingertips. Luuka smiled and let his hand rest in the thick, blood-stained fur around her neck. He stroked her head and scratched behind her ears. The pups whimpered and tried to climb into his lap.

  ‘Give me the knife,’ Luuka said, his eyes never leaving the wolf’s gaze.

  Kaija stood frozen to the spot, her hands hanging limply by her side. Tarin grabbed the knife from her. ‘Here.’