by Jo Sandhu
‘Do you not want to fly like Owl, Tarin?’ Old Father asked. ‘Do you not want to run through the forest like Wolf? It is your choice, Tarin-Scared-Rabbit.’
Tarin looked at Valo. ‘You once told me I had no choice. It was the Great Mother’s will.’
Valo laughed. ‘Do you also remember I told you She will ask of you a great price? One you may not be willing to pay?’
Tarin looked down. His hands were wet with blood and at his feet lay the carcass of a mighty bison. It would feed his clan for many days.
What price will you pay, Tarin?
Old Father stood before Tarin and laughed. ‘Can you hear the wind? Can you feel the rock? How they groan and move. The Mother is not happy.’
And in his dream, Tarin was once more in the cave that had haunted him for so long. He touched the slippery walls and they were like ice. Ahead, he heard the sound of water, dripping, always dripping. Like tears flowing endlessly. The Mother’s Heart wept for her children.
Tarin rounded the bend, and the underground lake lapped at his feet, the water dark and deep. The mountain above him pressed downwards. He knew he would die here. It was the Mother’ swill.
The earth trembled . . . rock moved against rock . . . beneath the mountain, the river churned.
Tarin woke suddenly, all senses tingling. He had been dreaming again, although in the haze of waking, his dream was lost. And he had let the fire go out. The cave was pitch black. He shivered and fumbled for the firestones. Rohk growled softly, but he settled again as the boy murmured softly and scratched his fur.
The ashes were cold. There was no ember slumbering hidden in their depths. Tarin found the tinder, and struck the firestones together. It was only once he had a flame going that he drew a deep, relieved breath. He added some kindling to the fire and rubbed his hands together.
The pot of tea was cold, but he didn’t feel like heating more. He was uneasy, and jumped at the sound of Kaija turning over in her sleep. Whether it was his lingering dreams, or waking in the dark, strange place so similar to that of his dreams, Tarin wasn’t sure. He rubbed his face and took a drink of cold tea. He had no idea what time it was. It could be the middle of the night, or it could be mid-morning. Deep under the ground, it was always dark.
Darkness, pressing down on him . . . the smell of rotting flesh . . . the ground trembling beneath his feet...
Tarin jumped to his feet and rubbed his arms. Rohk whimpered and moved closer to the fire. Tarin rubbed the thick fur around his ears. He cupped the wolf’s face in his hands and looked into his glowing, orange eyes, drawn down into their depths where the firelight danced and flickered.
‘I wish I were home,’ Tarin whispered to the wolf. ‘I wish I were home in the earth-lodge, with all my family around me. But I’m not.’ He raised his eyes and stared around the chamber. His gaze passed over the paintings, and the rock formations, and rested on the darkness where the underground river flowed. ‘I know I have to go on, but what if my dreams are telling me I’ll never see the light of day again? What if my dreams are a warning?’
Tarin clasped his hands together and shuddered. ‘But I have no choice.’ Across the fire, Nilkka watched him with a steady gaze. ‘I’ve never had a choice.’ He prodded the fire with a stick.
No choice . . .
He had to take the Offering – it was his responsibility. It was gudni, and his clan depended on him.
But that doesn’t mean I have to put my friends in danger.
Tarin stopped prodding at the fire and became very still. The only sound was the murmur of the water and the crackling fire.
‘I don’t have to put anyone else in danger,’ he said.
The words sounded too loud in the stillness. He glanced at Kaija and Luuka as they lay sleeping, curled up in their furs. Rohk edged forward and licked Tarin’s hand.
‘I know what I have to do, boy,’ Tarin murmured. He scratched Rohk’s ears and ruffled his fur. ‘But you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.’ How many times had Saara said the same thing to him? It’s a secret. His heart clenched, thinking of his sister.
I have to do this. But I have to do it alone . . .
Tarin carefully removed the packet of food and herbs from his pack. They were wrapped in a rabbit-skin pouch he could wear slung over one shoulder. He added the amber bead. In another pouch at his waist he put a couple of firestones, tinder and some strips of dried meat. His water flask hung from his belt. A spare torch and kindling he wrapped together and slung over his back. He didn’t know how long he would take to find the chamber.
Kaija groaned in her sleep and turned away from the fire. Tarin froze, but she didn’t wake. He took his backpack and covered it with his furs. Now, if Kaija happened to glance in his direction, it would look like he was still sleeping. Then he picked up a torch and lit the sap-filled tip in the fire. It burned brightly, reflected in the eyes of the wolves. He covered the fire with a mound of ashes, so it would last until Kaija and Luuka woke up.
‘Goodbye, Rohk, and sweet Nilkka.’ Tarin hugged them briefly and buried his head in their fur. They each licked his nose. Rohk tried to follow as Tarin made his way to the fissure in the rock that would lead him further into the cave.
‘No, Rohk. You have to stay,’ Tarin said. ‘You have to stay and look after Kaija and Luuka.’
Rohk whimpered, but sat where he was and didn’t follow. Tarin cast his gaze once more around the chamber, saying a silent farewell to his friends. Then he turned, and stepped forward in to the darkness.
Kaija wasn’t sure what woke her. She looked around the cavern. Nilkka was next to her, watching her with glowing eyes. Rohk was sitting away from the fire, staring at the other side of the cave. He whimpered and lowered his head, looking wistful. Luuka was snoring. Kaija turned to Tarin. He was lying with his back to the fire, his furs covering his head.
She had no idea what time it was, but her mouth was dry and her stomach growled. She prodded the fire back to life and started heating some water. Luuka rolled onto his back, snoring loudly. Kaija kicked him. She rummaged in the food pack for a strip of dried meat, and paused.
‘Rohk? Have you been at these supplies?’
Rohk whined and looked at her, then returned his attention to the darkness near the stream.
‘I was sure there were more reindeer strips.’ Kaija scratched her head. She found the herbs she was after – mint and sage – and added them to the water. Then she sat by the fire and munched the strip of tough meat thoughtfully.
She studied the paintings, and the rocks. She watched the flames devour another piece of wood. Luuka tossed and turned. Kaija sipped her tea. Her gaze kept returning to the still figure under Tarin’s sleeping furs. A slight frown creased her forehead.
She tossed Nilkka and Rohk a piece of reindeer. Nilkka snapped hers up. Rohk looked toward the fissure, then back at the strip of meat. He grabbed the meat quickly, and returned to his post. The hairs on the back of Kaija’s neck tingled.
Suddenly, she dropped her cup and jumped up. Her tea spilled onto the ground, but she didn’t notice. She pulled the furs away from Tarin and gasped. He wasn’t there! His pack was, but he had gone.
‘Luuka! Luuka! Wake up!’ She shook her brother fiercely.
‘Wh . . . what?’ Luuka sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm.
‘Tarin’s gone.’
‘What do you mean?’ Luuka blinked owlishly.
‘I mean – he’s not here. He’s gone.’ Kaija whirled on Rohk. ‘You knew, Rohk. Why didn’t you warn us?’
Rohk lowered his head and looked contrite.
‘But where did he go?’ Luuka said.
Kaija sighed in exasperation. ‘Further into the cave, of course. See? Two torches have gone.’
‘But his pack is here.’
‘He’s taken the torches, some food, his water flask . . .’ Kaija ripped open his pack and rummaged in it. ‘And he’s taken the Offering. Oh, Luuka, how could he do this? Does he think he can do thi
s by himself?’
Luuka walked to the stream and splashed the remains of sleep from his face with the icy water. He flipped his hair back, spraying Rohk.
‘It is his journey, Kaija,’ he said in a low voice.
‘But . . . what if he needs help?’ Kaija crouched by the fire and buried her head in her hands.
Luuka squatted next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘He can do it. He’s a hunter of Worj’s Clan, don’t forget.’
Kaija clenched her teeth. ‘I’m so angry with him.’
‘Then you can tell him when he comes back.’ Luuka poured them both a cup of tea. He started to speak, then stopped.
‘What?’ Kaija snapped, glaring at him.
Luuka shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Yes, it does, or you wouldn’t have tried to say it.’ She breathed in deeply, her nostrils flaring. ‘So you may as well tell me.’
Luuka scratched his nose and sipped his tea. He swished the warm liquid around in his mouth before turning aside and spitting it onto the ground. ‘Sometimes,’ he said slowly, ‘you try to fight everyone’s battles for them.’
‘I do not –’
‘You do, Kaija. You and our mother are very alike.’
Kaija scowled but didn’t speak. She knew her brother had more to say, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
‘You both think you have to be strong. But you don’t. Sometimes you have to let others be strong for you.’
Kaija forced her tea past the lump that stuck in her throat. Her head dropped. She set her cup down so fiercely the wood cracked against the stone.
‘I’m so cross! It would serve him right if we weren’t here when he returns.’
‘Do you want to go?’
‘No!’ She frowned at the fire and then jumped to her feet. ‘But we need more wood if we’re going to be here longer, and fresh meat. Today, we’ll swim back to the meadow, replenish our supplies. And then I guess we just wait. And as for you –’ She rounded on Rohk. ‘You are in big trouble.’
Rohk crawled to her on his stomach and licked her fingers.
‘We’ll leave the packs here,’ Luuka said. He picked up his spear thrower and tucked it into his belt. He carried his spears in a long deer-skin pouch slung over his back. Kaija took her sling and the leather wrap to carry more wood. At the last moment, she slung her medicine pouch around her neck, thinking to pick camomile and wild cherry bark. She stared glumly at Tarin’s pack.
‘He’ll be fine,’ Luuka said. ‘You need to trust more.’
Kaija’s shoulders slumped. ‘I know.’ Then she turned and glared at her brother. ‘And if you don’t stop defending him, trust me, I’ll hit you.’
The temperature dropped further as Tarin climbed through the narrow, twisting corridor that led away from the river chamber. He held the torch in one hand, and trailed his other hand along the rocks. He imagined Yorav and his clan doing exactly the same thing, their faces marked with red ochre, the ghostly sound of the deer-bone flute filling the air, the flickering light of torches or stone lamps casting shadows on the walls. A chill went through him, raising the small hairs on his arms and creating little bumps on his skin.
The river plunged into rocks, and Tarin was unable to follow. He lifted the torch and looked around. The chamber was filled with mighty stalagmites, as thick as trees.
He touched them and they were ice cold. A pile of carefully placed rocks with a small painting of a cave bear on them showed him the way through them.
He passed through several other chambers before he came to an arching stone bridge. Far below, he heard the river once more, but his torchlight couldn’t penetrate the darkness. Tarin’s stomach grumbled, and he stopped before crossing to eat a strip of reindeer and take a drink of water. He wondered if the others had discovered his trick yet.
Kaija would be furious, he thought with a smile. If he ever saw her again, he would have to apologise. He hoped she’d understand. He rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his arms and legs. The ache in his leg had started again, and he wished he had taken the time to drink some willowbark tea.
The time underground was making him edgy. His scalp prickled and he strained his ears to hear every small sound. Above him, the rock ceiling dipped low. In some places, he had to stoop, and once, he lay on his belly and squeezed his way through a small cavity. And always, he was aware of the bulk of the mountain pressing downwards.
Tarin jumped up, eager to keep going, but as he was about to step onto the bridge he felt the first faint tremor beneath his feet. His heart missed a beat. His mouth went dry. He put his hand out against the wall, and recoiled as he felt the slimy trail of moisture.
Walls, slick with moisture . . . the air rank and musty . . . earth and rock, pressing down.
This was his dream! He whipped the torch around, searching the darkness, looking for an escape.
But if you run away now, you fail.
The words echoed in his head. His clan, his family, were all depending on him. Tarin squeezed his hands into fists and fought against the terror growing inside him. His stepped forward and his foot knocked a stone from the bridge. A splash sounded far below. The earth groaned. A smell like bad flesh hissed from a fissure that opened in the rocks ahead.
You always knew this is how it would be.
He wanted to run. He wanted to feel fresh wind against his face, and feel the warmth of the sun. He wanted to see blue sky and green trees. He caught his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, so he wouldn’t see the black abyss and the towering rocks, and he wouldn’t feel the weight of the mountain above him.
You always knew you would die, far underground. So why are you surprised now?
He huddled on the stone bridge, unwilling to retreat, unable to go forward.
Kaija studied the two black kites circling far above. Her sling hung by her side. Her rounded river rocks were gone. She had missed the marmot, despite getting off two good shots.
‘I’ve never seen you miss a shot like that,’ Luuka called. Kaija scowled and turned her back on him. She stalked over to the stream and searched for more suitable rocks.
‘I don’t see you bringing down anything with that spear thrower,’ she said. Luuka grinned at her bad mood and started whistling. ‘And where are Rohk and Nilkka?’
Luuka shrugged. ‘Around somewhere. I think they were happy to see sunlight. They were running around in circles.’
Kaija turned her attention to the stones in the stream. She picked one up, but it wasn’t the right shape, so she dropped it back down again. She was examining another when the wolves loped into view. She watched as they scouted the area frantically, their noses low to the ground, their tails down between their legs. Kaija stood and caught her lip between her teeth.
‘Luuka, something’s not right with the wolves.’
‘Maybe they can smell an animal burrow.’ Luuka hurried to see what the wolves had found.
‘Maybe,’ Kaija murmured. She picked up another stone and jumped when Rohk lifted his head and howled. Nilkka joined in. As though startled by the wolves, a mighty flock of birds, all shapes, sizes and colours, rose from the forest and streamed skywards. They were so thick, the sky darkened and their noise filled the air. Kaija stared after them, dismayed. ‘Luuka! What is happening?’
‘I don’t know,’ Luuka said, frowning. ‘Something’s really upset them.’
Kaija tucked the rock into her pouch, and bent to pick up another, but as she did, the ground beneath her trembled. She gasped and stumbled on the rocks, twisting her ankle. The wolves howled again. This time, she heard the fear in their cries. The ground shook again, just as she was wondering if she had imagined the first time. The blood drained from her face and she stared at Luuka. He dropped to one knee and put an arm around each wolf, calming them.
‘Tarin!’ Kaija dropped the rock in her hands and started running back toward the cave. She ignored the pain in her ankle and Luuka shouting after her. She fell, scraping
the skin on her palms.
‘Kaija, wait!’ Luuka caught up with her and grasped her arms. ‘You can’t go into the cave. It’s too dangerous.’
‘But Tarin’s in there.’ She wrestled herself out of his grip and took another step toward the cave. The ground shook again. A sound like that of a mountain cracking in two split the air. ‘What was that?’ She grabbed Luuka’s arm. The wolves howled.
Luuka’s face was ashen. He pointed and she turned.
The heavy over-hang of snow at Ice Bringer’s tip had broken loose and was crashing down the mountainside toward them, swallowing trees and rocks in its path.
The roaring sound filled Kaija’s head. She pressed her hands over her ears and closed her eyes.
‘Run!’
Luuka dragged her toward the cave. Rohk and Nilkka ran too, their howling lost in the noise of the avalanche at their heels. They all hit the water at the same time. Kaija and Luuka churned madly toward the ledge, the wolves following in their wake.
Kaija felt her heart leap into her mouth as the rocks rained down. The avalanche hit the cave entrance behind them with a sound like thunder. Churning water and waves picked the swimmers up and battered them against the rocks. Kaija cried out, and water filled her mouth. She was tumbling down under the water. She tried to kick her legs, but she was no longer sure which way was up. She opened her eyes in time to see a huge rock, as large as a mammoth, sink past her. Frantically, she kicked and pulled with her arms. Her head broke through the swirling water. A hand grabbed her hair and pulled.
Luuka hauled her up onto the ledge, now awash with water. They scrambled higher, and lay there, coughing and gasping for breath. The bedraggled wolves pulled themselves up and shook the water from their fur.
They turned to look at the cave entrance, but it was sealed by a wall of rock and hard-packed ice and snow. Only the glow of the small fire on the upper ledge cut through the gloom.