The Exile

by Jo Sandhu

  Tarin didn’t answer. He kept watching the herbs. He didn’t want to look at Kaija. Not only because she would see the sadness in his eyes, but also the fear. He didn’t want her to think him weak. He needed her to think he was strong, so that when he told her what he wanted to do, she would trust him.

  ‘They’re from the Offering, aren’t they?’ Kaija’s voice was soft. ‘Tarin, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Tarin leant over the liquid and blew to cool it. ‘You need my help.’ He dipped a strip of buckskin into the liquid and thought of adding some soothing mayweed to the willowbark tea. ‘Luuka, let me see your arm.’

  They unwrapped the blood-soaked bandage and stared at the mangled flesh.

  ‘Poor Wolf,’ Luuka murmured. ‘She didn’t mean it.’ Next to him, the wolf pups whimpered, but they didn’t move.

  ‘This will stop the blood flowing again,’ Tarin said, bathing the wounds on his arm. ‘You are now Chosen by Wolf, Luuka. Did you realise that?’

  Luuka caught his breath sharply as the cleansing liquid washed away the dried blood, but he managed a smile. ‘Chosen by Wolf,’ he murmured as Kaija wrapped a clean, dry strip around his arm. ‘A good totem.’

  Tarin picked up the last packet of dried herbs and looked at it. It was wrapped in a small square of red dyed leather, and tied with a twist of Old Mother’s own white hair. He brushed his fingers across it and thought of her – her frailty, and her strength. Her deep wisdom, and vast knowledge. Her happiness, and the well of great sorrow that Tarin knew was locked deep within her heart. She had seen so much, and suffered many losses during her long lifetime. She had seen fifty summers.

  A movement broke his thoughts. The wolf pups yawned, turned in a circle, and resettled themselves next to Luuka with big sighs of contentment. There were no bad dreams disturbing their sleep.

  ‘What is that?’ Luuka asked. Tarin showed him the small packet and Luuka raised it to his nose to sniff. ‘It smells familiar.’

  ‘Mustara leaf.’ Kaija drew her breath in sharply. ‘What are you doing with mustara leaf, Tarin?’

  Tarin stared at the dancing flames and rubbed the back of his neck. He breathed in the scent of the woodsmoke, so different to the sharper smell of burning bone. He closed his eyes and tried to capture the feeling of home – of sitting by the fire in the snug earth-lodge, smells of warming broth heavy on the air, the murmur of voices, perhaps the quiet chink of bone pieces as Eero and Ilmi played pick-em-up.

  But he couldn’t. It was too far away, and the feelings too raw.

  ‘I need to speak to the Spirits,’ Tarin said. ‘A Spirit Keeper could drive the evil Spirits from your bodies with sage smoke and magic words. I don’t have sage, and I don’t know the right words, but with Owl’s help, I will fight for you.’

  ‘No!’ Kaija said. ‘I will not let you sacrifice yourself for me.’

  ‘Or me,’ said Luuka. He frowned at Tarin. ‘If the Mother wishes us to live, we will. Horse will find a way to protect us.’

  ‘But how can Horse fight against Boar? He cannot. He needs my help. Just as I need your help if we are to survive the Winter. No one of us can survive without the others. We need food, shelter, water, furs. Winter is here and we are weak and far from our homes.’ Tarin took the packet back from Luuka and stroked the white hair tie. ‘Old Mother dried the leaves herself. She hangs them upside down on a rack, away from the sun or any light. For a whole cycle of seasons she dries them, and then crushes them to powder and mixes them with black cherry . . .’

  Tarin’s voice faded. He watched Kaija as she chewed her lip and stared at the ground in front of her. She was the daughter of a healer. She would know all about mustara, the pretty low-growing shrub with the creamy flowers. Tea made from the carefully dried roots would bring on endless sleep, but the leaves, properly treated, were gentler. The flowers themselves, with their hearts of deeper orange, caused extreme pain and wild hallucinations, and were deadly.

  ‘Your Old Mother dried them herself?’

  ‘I wouldn’t trust them if she hadn’t.’ Tarin’s fingers brushed the packet again. ‘See? She has sealed them with her own hair.’

  Kaija took the packet from him and examined it. Another tremor shook her body, and she shivered. ‘I grow cold again.’

  ‘The fever won’t leave you until the Spirits end their battle.’

  ‘Why do you need the tea?’ Kaija’s eyes were worried.

  ‘It is how the Mammutti Spirit Keepers enter the Spirit World,’ said Tarin. ‘That’s what Valo told me.’

  Only a very powerful Spirit Keeper can enter the Spirit World without the tea, Tarin Twisted Leg. Even with the tea, it is a dangerous journey – one you will never be brave enough or strong enough to make.

  But I must try, Tarin thought. He traced the mark of Owl on his pendant and frowned.

  ‘All my life I have sent my thanks and my pleas to Owl and Mammoth, but how do I know they can hear me now, so far away from my home? Maybe my voice is too soft to be heard. That’s why I must enter their world, and speak to them face to face. You are weak from your wounds. You cannot fight your battle by yourself, but I can help you. I can fight the bad Spirits for you, just as Valo Spirit Keeper would fight for me if I were home.’

  Kaija shook her head. ‘I don’t like it. What if you don’t wake up?’

  ‘Then you and Luuka still have each other.’ Tarin held his hand out for the packet. ‘I can do this, Kaija. Trust me, like I trust you.’

  Kaija bit her lip. ‘Luuka, don’t let him.’

  Luuka stared at the fire and didn’t speak for a long time.

  ‘It is his decision,’ he said finally. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘Just watch over Kaija,’ said Tarin. ‘If the Spirits are too strong, or if I don’t wake . . .’ He stopped and drew a deep breath. ‘Her wound will need bathing and re-dressing tomorrow. You need to find shelter and food.’

  Luuka grasped Tarin’s shoulder. ‘You will wake. And you will succeed. The Spirits will hear you. Tomorrow we will begin a new journey and find that shelter together.’

  Tarin made the tea the way Old Mother had taught him. The water, not too hot. The leaves, enough to fit in the palm of his hand, then half taken away to please the Spirits. There was no Spirit Keeper there to help, so Tarin said the special words himself. He hoped the Spirits would be pleased with them.

  ‘Ancient Spirits,

  Spirit of Ice, Spirit of Rain, Spirit of Rock.

  You who formed the land.

  Blessed Spirit, Earth Mother,

  You who gave us life.

  Protector Spirits,

  Spirit of Owl, Wolf and Horse.

  Protect your children.’

  He finished saying the words and threw the herbs into the water. The water bubbled upwards, but it didn’t spill.

  ‘It will be bitter,’ Kaija said.

  Tarin nodded. He knew the taste well. It was the tea Old Mother gave him to take the spirit from his body while she healed his leg. He tipped half into his cup and stared down at the dark liquid. Steam rose, curling up into the night sky. Tarin shivered. When Old Mother gave him the tea, she made sure it was not too strong – not strong enough to break the barrier between their world and the Spirit World. But Tarin didn’t know how to test for strength. He breathed in the steam. It smelled familiar. It looked familiar.

  But what if he didn’t wake?

  His glance fell on Kaija. She was shivering again, her eyes full of fear. Her Spirit of Horse was losing her battle. And Luuka? His face was grim and pain-filled. His arm hung uselessly by his side, his fingertips just brushing the wolf pups as they slept.

  I have to do this.

  Tarin gripped the cup and took a deep breath. He licked his dry lips. But still he sat there, cross-legged by the fire, and stared down into the tea.

  The tickle started at the base of his skull, where it always did. First, the little fine hairs on his neck rose, then his whole scalp tingled. It was always the same
before one of his dreams – that feeling of something gentle yet fire-hot brushing against his skin, warning him. His hearing would become keener, his eyesight sharper, and his head felt as though it were too small to contain all the dreams and visions pressing against him.

  Sometimes all he felt was pain. It travelled from behind his eyes and outwards to every part of his body. Then all he would see was a world awash in lights and colours, so he would squeeze his eyes shut again and call on Owl to take the dreams away. Owl would take him up into the sky, and together they would fly free over the plains. That was when Old Mother would heal his leg, twisting it this way and that to drive the bad Spirits away.

  Owl, hear me!

  And Owl answered him, as he always did, as he always would. Owl lifted him upwards on wings that were strong and free.

  ‘Tarin?’

  He heard Luuka’s voice from a long way away, but he was flying now with Owl and had no words for the River Clan boy. Tarin wheeled in the sky to circle over the little camp huddled by the side of the river. Snow was falling softly, but their fire was warm and welcoming. He swooped low over Luuka, and the boy turned his head sharply, as though he had heard the whisper of wings above his head. Kaija groaned in her fever-induced sleep. Her spirit was fighting, but even Horse cannot run forever.

  Then the camp was gone, and Tarin found himself in the depths of a thick forest. Here, daylight couldn’t penetrate the deep-green foliage, and the snow barely filtered through the thick canopy overhead.

  He was no longer flying with Owl. Now, he padded through the forest on four legs, his keen nose picking out the scent of the forest animals, his grey fur blending with the darkness so that he was invisible.

  There was a scent, a stinking, pungent scent, worrying him. He growled low in his throat and the hackles on his back rose. It was the scent of Boar. The wolf’s muzzle wrinkled. Moonlight gleamed on white fangs. Boar was still in the forest – Wolf’s forest – and Wolf was not happy.

  Then another scent crossed him and he followed. It was the scent of the two humans Owl had seen camped by the river. Their Spirits were sick, blanketed in grey mist. Wolf found them now in a clearing of the forest. He growled at the greyness around them, and it shifted like long grass in the wind. Wolf flung back his head and howled, calling for more wolves to join him. In the distance, another wolf answered, then another. The forest wolves came fast and silent.

  The greyness shifted again. Wolf paced from side to side, snarling. He lunged forward, snapping at the greyness, driving it backward into the forest, where the trees would swallow it forever.

  This was Wolf’s forest. No place for intruders.

  The boy stirred in his sleep. The shadow lifted from his dreams. He was marked by Wolf, and strong. Horse welcomed Wolf.

  But the girl . . .

  Wolf’s keen nose picked up the odour of festering sickness. The greyness was within her, and would not leave. Wolf circled her, snarling. The Boar scent was strong. It fed the growing darkness. Horse was lost and trapped, unable to help. Wolf lunged towards her and bit the wound on her shoulder. That was where the darkness was. He tasted Boar, sour and vicious. The poison was killing her, and like a dream within a dream, Wolf saw the boy once more pull the spear from her shoulder. It was a savage spear, tipped with bone, long and sharp. Wolf saw the girl, Farla, sitting by the river, grinding the bone between two flat stones. She held it up to the light and smiled. Then she took a flint knife and notched the edges, creating small hooks to tear the flesh of her prey.

  Wolf looked at the spear, still clasped in the boy’s hand, the tip red with blood, jagged and broken, and suddenly, Wolf understood. When the boy had pulled the spear from her shoulder, a small sliver of bone remained. That was the smell of Boar. That’s what was destroying the girl’s Spirit.

  Wolf flung his head back and howled. Around him, the forest echoed with the answering howls of his clan. The two humans woke and looked around them fearfully.

  You have no reason to fear, Wolf wanted to tell them. You are Clan. You are Wolf, too.

  The wolf pups whimpered and tried to lift their heads to howl, soft mewls lost in the louder clamour of the forest wolves. Luuka hushed them and eased their fears. He felt Kaija’s forehead and his frown deepened.

  ‘Tarin! She grows worse!’ a voice called.

  And Tarin-wolf was once more running through the forest, his forest, towards the river.

  ‘Tarin!’ Luuka shook his shoulder. ‘If you are going to drink that tea, drink it now. Kaija needs your help.’

  The vision of the forest faded from Tarin’s mind, but the feeling of running through the thick woods on four legs stayed with him so strongly that he looked down at his own two legs in confusion.

  ‘What?’ he said, and even to his own ears, his voice sounded vague and far away. And his hands were still clasped around the cup of tea. He frowned at the muddy liquid still there. He didn’t understand.

  ‘Tarin!’ Luuka’s voice was urgent. Kaija was agitated. Her eyes were open, but glazed with fever. Sweat ran down her face.

  ‘I’m so c . . . cold.’ Her teeth chattered together.

  Tarin put the tea down and clasped her hands in his. Hers were burning hot.

  ‘Kaija! Listen to me.’ He tried to calm her. ‘There is a piece of the spear head caught in your wound.’

  Kaija stopped fighting him and tried to listen. ‘What?’

  ‘How do you know?’ Luuka asked.

  ‘Spirit of Wolf showed me,’ Tarin said. ‘I . . .’ He stopped, unsure how to explain what had happened to him.

  ‘You talked with the Spirits?’ Luuka stared at him.

  Tarin drew a deep breath. He hadn’t just talked with the Spirits – he had been one of them. He had been Spirit of Wolf. He had seen and smelled and sensed as Wolf. He had run on four paws, low to the ground. He had lifted his head and howled to the wolf brothers he knew were all around him. But he couldn’t explain that to Luuka. He couldn’t explain it to himself.

  Later, maybe, when Kaija was out of danger, then he would sit and think about what he had experienced. For now, Kaija’s life was the most important thing for him to think about, and he knew now how to save her.

  ‘I talked with the Spirits.’ He gripped Kaija’s hands. ‘I can help you, but it will hurt. The fever won’t leave you until the spear head is taken out and your wound can heal.’

  ‘I know.’ The healer’s daughter shuddered and reached a tentative hand to her shoulder. ‘You must cut the wound larger . . .’ Another shiver shook her body.

  Tarin nodded. ‘There is still tea here. Will you drink it? It will help to take away the pain.’

  ‘No.’ Kaija shook her head. ‘I will hold still.’

  ‘You can’t, Kaija. You’re already shivering so much.’ Luuka frowned at her.

  ‘Then you hold me, while Tarin cuts.’

  Luuka raked his good hand through his hair. ‘I don’t have two arms to hold you with. Why are you so stubborn? It will be less painful if you drink the tea.’

  Tears rolled down Kaija’s cheeks. ‘Why can’t you believe me. I said I can hold still.’

  ‘Kaija.’ Tarin gripped her hand. ‘You may think you can stay still, but what if I have to dig the bone out? You will move, and I may cause you more injury.’

  Kaija sobbed quietly while the two boys frowned at her. One of the wolf pups nuzzled her hand and licked her finger­tips. She drew in a shaky breath.

  ‘You are right.’ She brushed the tears from her face. ‘The smell of the tea – it reminds me of our last days in River Clan.’ Her fingers sank into the wolf pup’s fur and she dropped her shoulders. ‘If I were alone, I would say to the Spirits – here I am, come and take me. But I’m not alone.’

  ‘Never alone.’ Luuka hugged his sister.

  ‘Never alone,’ Tarin said. He held the cup towards her.

  ‘Help me, Luuka. My hand shakes.’

  ‘Ready?’ Luuka asked.

  ‘Ready,’ she said, and he h
eld the cup to her lips.

  Kaija gagged as the liquid tipped down her throat. She passed the empty cup back to Tarin. Soon, she would sleep, and feel no pain, but she knew the pain would be there for her when she woke. If she woke.

  ‘Tarin? Talk to me.’ She wanted to hear voices as she drifted off to sleep. She didn’t want to be alone.

  ‘What about?’ Tarin added another branch to the fire and stared into the flames. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ A wolf pup edged closer to the fire and settled down between them. Tarin rested his hand in the soft fur around the wolf’s neck.

  ‘Tell me more about your father and the cave lion. What happened next?’ She reached for Luuka’s hand and held it close. Already the tea was making her feel drowsy.

  Tarin collected his thoughts.

  ‘Isto claimed the cave lion. His spear had killed it, so by hunter’s right, it was his. But he gave my father a token – one of its teeth. And Kalle had the tooth made into a necklace for my mother.’

  Tarin’s eyes closed and he pictured the necklace hanging around Aila’s neck.

  ‘Hanno drilled a small hole at the base of the tooth, and Salla threaded it onto a thin leather thong. She also threaded pieces of amber and small circles of bone. Kalle told her it was payment for all the worry he had caused her, and she said in that case she would look forward to many more pieces of jewellery in the future.’

  Kaija laughed, a small, sleepy chuckle. ‘Keep talking. I like to hear your stories. Tell me about your Summer grounds. Do you travel there every year?’

  ‘Most years. It takes us over half the moon’s cycle to reach the Summer grounds, and sometimes we stop to trade with other clans along the way. Sometimes, another clan will travel with us. More hunters mean more successful hunts, and to hunt the mammoths, many strong men and women are needed.’

  ‘I’ve never seen a mammoth.’ Kaija yawned and struggled to keep her eyes open. ‘Keep talking.’

  ‘Sometimes, even one of the forest clans joins us. It’s a chance to trade, and meet with friends and family. We have games and competitions, big feasts, music and dancing.’