The Skeleton's Knife (The Farwalker Trilogy)

by Joni Sensel

  Zeke nudged Ariel. "Which way?"

  She shifted her hand on her staff and rubbed her thumb over the shark's tooth. They had limited choices for leaving the mountains, particularly this early in spring, but Ariel trusted her feet to find the shortest safe route. The impulse to walk came immediately.

  "Somewhere rocks roll downhill, and not up," Zeke added, low.

  "Where we can be friends and that's all," Ariel thought. The tug on her boots did not waver. She could feel its pull like a tide.

  "To a sea that's missing a shark." She opened her eyes and stepped forward.

  Their first days of travel were rough. Ariel's feet led them north, which meant threading between peaks without relief from the cold. To sleep without shivering, the three had to pile together like puppies, and the days weren't much better. No one complained, but Zeke warmed his cheeks against Willow's broad flanks, and Scarl kept his hands stuffed in the opposite armpits.

  "Do the stones think the weather will turn nicer soon, Zeke?" Ariel asked.

  He shook his head. "They're not good to ask. Snow, rain, clouds--they like it all." He pointed ahead to a dark, buzzing knot. "But speaking of clouds... have you noticed those flies?"

  Ariel had been trying to ignore them.

  Chapter 6

  For several days now, a black, roiling fog had hung in the air just behind them or, sometimes, ahead. It reminded Ariel of the flies that had risen from Elbert's remains. Whenever she spotted the swarm in her path, she had to concentrate to prevent herself from swerving away. She didn't want to feel as though she were following them. Yet she liked being shadowed by them even less.

  "Awful cold yet for bugs," Zeke observed.

  "Maybe that's why they're staying so close," Ariel said. "They smell the horse and they're drawn to his warmth."

  "They're not landing on him, though," Zeke replied. "Or anything else. They just float."

  Ariel scowled. "Like a ghost." She turned to Scarl. "Will you tell us a story? It'll help me forget those nasty things. And how cold my nose is."

  "I think you've heard all I know. How about a riddle instead?"

  "I like riddles," said Zeke.

  "I don't," Ariel said. "They make me feel stupid."

  "You'll have an edge for this one," Scarl said.

  That intrigued her. A farwalking riddle?

  "Cross once and meet smiles. Cross twice and leave tears," Scarl said. "Cross thrice and expect to earn screams. Why?"

  Ariel's brow puckered. What could be crossed? Arms and legs, thresholds, streams, land. She'd met smiles on her first arrival in several villages--although surprise and disbelief were more common--but she'd never left tears, and the screams didn't fit, either. Still, if it wasn't a Farwalker riddle, why would she guess it any sooner than Zeke?

  She glanced sideways at Scarl. The look in his eyes told her the answer. The flies must have given them similar thoughts.

  "Oh! I know!" she said.

  "Already?" Zeke protested. "Don't say it, let me--"

  But Ariel was already talking. "It's the bridge out of the world. Crossed once to come in as a baby, the second time leaving the world when you die, and sneaking back in the third time as a ghost."

  "You remember that story," Scarl said.

  "How could I forget?" He'd told her last summer about the bridge out of the world. "All I can think of is Elbert finding his way back over somehow." She glared at the flies not far over their heads.

  "If a knot of flies is the best he can do," Scarl said, "I wouldn't worry. They're not even biting."

  "Tell me that story, Scarl," Zeke said.

  "Why don't you tell him, Ariel?" the Finder suggested. "Sometimes telling a story can give you power over it and stop it from troubling your thoughts. And storytelling would be a fine skill for a Farwalker to have."

  "You'll tell it better."

  But Zeke encouraged her, too, so she huffed air into her bangs and launched into a description of the shadowy bridge. Long ago, she told him, it had been easier to cross. Frightened by the dead, those living nearby had tried to stop ghouls from coming back to the world. When the living and the dead had a fight on the bridge, flames flared from beneath it to burn a great hole. Since then, the bridge couldn't be crossed by the living. Only unborn spirits coming into the world and the dead ones leaving again could get past that hole. Other barriers were added to help keep the dead where they belonged.

  Ariel held Zeke's interest so well that he stumbled. When she finished, he asked, "What kind of barriers can stop a ghost?"

  Ariel appealed to Scarl.

  He shook his head. "The story doesn't say. But I'm sure you've heard of methods for warding off spirits. Running water, powerful symbols--that kind of thing."

  "Holly branches, I guess," Zeke said. "Horseshoes. And silver."

  "You think those would stop Elbert?" Ariel asked.

  "You're assuming he'd want to come back," Scarl said. "Most who leave the world are content to move on."

  "And good riddance," declared Zeke.

  "Sometimes." A note in Scarl's voice caught Ariel's attention, and they swapped a rueful look. Ariel thought of her mother. Softly, Scarl added, "Regardless, we also must move on without them."

  Zeke saw their sad glance. "Uh... it's not always good riddance. I only meant Elbert."

  "It's all right, Zeke. We know." Ariel felt worse for Scarl than herself. It had been nearly two years, and he could mention Mirayna Allcraft without wincing now, but clearly he still mourned the woman he'd hoped to marry.

  For a few weeks that winter, he'd shown a flicker of interest in a delicate Tree-Singer at the abbey, and Ariel had plotted ways to throw them together. She'd encouraged Scarl's admiration of Madrona's paintings and helped him gather feathers to give her for applying the paints. If anything passed between the two beyond the kindness Madrona showed everyone, however, Ariel caught no murmur of it. Perhaps Madrona's heart belonged too firmly to trees. Scarl's gaze soon stopped lingering on her, and his attention returned to chores and to fixing his timepiece.

  Still, Ariel sometimes felt the weight of his loneliness when they traveled, and she noticed again that evening, too. Scarl sat up late at the fire after she and Zeke snuggled into their blankets. Pretending to sleep, Ariel watched Scarl through slit eyelids. He stared into the coals for more than an hour, massaging his lame ankle or rubbing his knuckles in an unconscious attempt to knead away some other ache.

  She'd seen the same thing before. If she fought sleep long enough, before he lay down he always bent close, tucked her blanket more firmly around her, and stroked her hair with a touch as light as a leaf's fall. That secret tenderness sparked her tears, making it hard to maintain her fake sleep. Ariel wished she knew how to plug the hole in Scarl's heart, but she could only ache for him, and her feelings for Nace had helped her understand why the company of other loved ones wasn't enough. She missed the Kincaller's strong hands and quick smile already.

  Over the next week, Zeke solved every riddle Scarl knew while Ariel led them farther north. The foothills they traversed never flattened to plains. Instead the folds in the land grew steep-sided again, the heights rocky and rippling with windswept grasses. Cascades spilled into gorges, and cliffs rose from the rivers below. Not even the heavy mists off the water dissuaded their escort of flies.

  One night Ariel awoke when she felt Scarl bolt upright. Moonlight glinted on the blade of his knife.

  "What?" Her head still buzzing with sleep, she sat up to scan for her staff. She feared Elbert's knife had cut itself free and now posed some threat. But her walking stick, with the blade, lay inert on the ground.

  Scarl blinked at her. After peering toward their drowsy horse, he re-sheathed his weapon and hunkered at the banked coals of their fire.

  "Nothing. Forgive me," he whispered, since Zeke snored on beside her. "Nightmare."

  "Geez, what about?"

  He stirred up the coals. "You needn't trouble yourself with my bad dreams."

  "
You'd trouble yourself with mine."

  When he didn't answer, she said, "I'm sorry. It's my fault for wanting this trip. You were right. This knife makes me think of Elbert too much. But I can't just smash it and forget. I have to... I have to put it away. I know that doesn't make sense."

  "Yes, it does. You have to conquer it. And you fight with your feet." He fed the fire until flames licked at the darkness.

  A subtle motion to the side caught Ariel's notice. "Build it up more. Zeke's shivering."

  Scarl turned. His eyes narrowed. "No, he isn't." He lifted a flaming stick as a torch.

  Zeke's blanket was crawling with flies. More settled each second.

  Scarl waved the brand over the blanket. The flies lifted off, some sizzling through the flame and then burning like sparks. Others buzzed through the dark to land on Ariel instead.

  "Ugh!" She scrambled to her feet, leaving the flies writhing on her blanket. "You think they've been roosting on us every night?"

  "I hope not," Scarl said.

  Zeke rolled over, muttering about the noise they were making. He spotted the flies and sat up, his eyes wide. "Yuck."

  Ariel snatched a bare corner of her blanket and snapped it. The flies scattered. Scarl ignited more with his torch, filling the air with makeshift fireflies. They stunk. Ariel gathered her blanket into her arms and huddled with Zeke, afraid of embers dropping into her hair.

  A soft beating sound joined their sizzle and buzz. A set of dark wings, too large for a bat, swooped back and forth, snatching two and three sparks at a time.

  "Oh, don't tell me!" As Ariel spoke, the crow landed to gobble a few settling flies that had not caught on fire.

  "It can't be the same bird," Scarl said. "Another, perhaps. Though I didn't think they flew in the dark."

  "Crows don't eat flies, either," she replied. It snapped its beak here and there, defying her words.

  "This one must like them toasted." Zeke grinned.

  The crow hopped and pecked as flies began to escape. When none were left in the circle of light, the bird cawed and leapt into the dark.

  "Talk about nightmares," Ariel moaned.

  "Look on the bright side," Zeke said. "We're not dead meat."

  "Yet," she retorted. "But you shouldn't be so cheerful. All the flies were on you to begin with."

  "Really?" Zeke looked more intrigued than repulsed.

  "More likely on me," Scarl said. "I awoke sensing motion."

  Although the night calmed around them, they remained wary, nestling slowly back into their blankets.

  "Sleep," Scarl said. "I'll keep them off if they return."

  "We could take turns," Zeke offered. "So you could sleep, too."

  "I've slept enough for one night."

  "There weren't flies in your nightmare, were there?" Ariel asked.

  Scarl shook his head. The look on his face made her wish he would tell her about it, but she knew it was useless to plead--and for the sake of her own nightmares, she did not need to know.

  She didn't expect it, but sleep visited Ariel again before morning. When she awoke to thin sunshine and birdsong, the midnight fright could have been a bad dream--except that by noon, a mass of flies was following them once more. The dark cloud seemed smaller, but that may have been wishful thinking.

  "Where's that crow during the day?" Ariel grumbled.

  "What we need is a big flock of swallows," Zeke said. "But we're more likely to start spotting seagulls, I think."

  He was right. The breeze had begun whispering of seaweed and salt, and the rivers in the gorges below became fjords. They'd reached a rugged seacoast. As they approached what appeared to be land's end, however, the earth did not slope but sliced into the sea, too steep to descend. They turned to follow the dramatic coastline.

  Later that day, Scarl asked, "Where are you taking us, Farwalker?" They were traipsing a barren headland with a broad view but no hint of humans. "This seems an inhospitable place for a village."

  "I'm not sure. My feet want to go this way, though." Perhaps she'd made a mistake by focusing on the shark's tooth, not a village, but she wanted to follow her instincts as far as she could. Above them, the black veil of flies swooped and shifted. Even here, where sea winds scoured the land and stunted the trees, the flies had not been discouraged. "Maybe Elbert was born on an island, and the flies will lift us to carry us there."

  Scarl didn't smile at her joke. "Into the sea to feed fish seems more likely. Unless we're about to meet people who cling like cliff-dwelling birds."

  Not much later, Ariel said, "Maybe Elbert's people are trolls." She'd come to the top of a stair that descended into the earth. Hands had carved the stone steps, but the stairwell itself was earthen and crumbling. "Shall we find out?"

  "I hope you're not serious." Scarl peered in as Zeke tapped the first step with one foot. "Caves and tunnels cut by nature are risky enough. Those cut by men are too old to be trusted. It's more likely to collapse on us than to take us anywhere we want to go."

  "I know." Ariel had bad memories of caves. But she couldn't ignore the will of her feet.

  "I don't think we should go this way, either," Zeke said. "Even if we could bring the horse."

  Ariel couldn't remember him ever questioning her route. "You don't usually have an opinion," she told him. "Why this time?"

  Zeke squirmed.

  "You know what I like about Nace?" Ariel said. "He may not talk, but he's utterly honest. You don't speak your mind--and it shows on your face."

  "It's not my fault," Zeke protested. "These stones are... taunting is the best word, I guess. Inviting us to bring our bones in. They know too much about dead things. But I didn't think you'd want to hear more about bones."

  "Oh. You're right," she said. "Sorry."

  Scarl told her, "Find some other path."

  Ariel turned from the stair and denied her feet what they wanted. After an uncertain moment, they stepped forward and past it. Relieved, she marched onward.

  Soon water surrounded them on three sides, beyond tumbles of brown bracken fern and green vines. Adjoining cliffs loomed, torn and eroded as though clawed by giants, and the sea boomed in pockets below. Ariel skirted fresh sinkholes and seeps. Boggy soil kept sliding from under her boots, and mud stained her trousers where she'd repeatedly slipped to one knee.

  "I don't like the feel of this earth," Scarl said. "And there can't be anything out on the point, or we'd see it by now."

  "That stairwell went somewhere." Ariel didn't stop. "Let me try a bit farther." If she could find a route down from the narrow ridge they were on, they'd be able to cross the tamer slopes nearer the water. There were coves below, too, littered with tree trunks and branches that'd been tossed in by waves. From above, the driftwood looked like jumbled bones. At least these were too big to be human.

  "Willow's balking," Scarl said a few moments later. He stopped with the horse. "Are you ready to backtrack?"

  "I guess we'll have to." Reluctant, she took several more steps alone to see if they gave her any new view ahead. "My feet want to go down, but except for those stairs, they can't find a w--aagh!"

  The soil turned to slurry beneath her. Scrabbling for footing only flung it away harder. She screeched, flailed her arms, and dropped to her seat, but a chute opened underneath her. Even digging in her heels and grabbing handfuls of earth didn't slow her. The earth slid fast, and Ariel skidded down with it.

  Chapter 7

  The crest of the mudslide overtook Ariel from behind, pushing at her and threatening to engulf her head. She gulped air and applied instincts she'd shaped in the sea, swimming with the slide instead of trying to fight.

  The mud slowed when it reached a gentler slope and stopped, clogged by a scatter of blackthorn and boulders. Ariel lay limp and panting, afraid any motion might start the ground churning again. After a few solid moments, she plucked her limbs from the ooze and rose unsteadily to her knees. The smell of wet clay crowded into her nose.

  "Well, that was one w
ay to get down," she said to her feet. "Thanks a lot."

  Her companions shouted from above. Their voices sounded small. When she turned, she was amazed how high above her their silhouettes perched--like birds on the rim of a cliff.

  "I'm all right!" Mud dripped out of her hair. Her palms had been scraped and the blackthorn jabbed at her shins, but nothing else hurt. Spying her staff, she dragged it from the mud and leaned on it. She took tentative steps up the path of the slide. It was like trying to climb a waterfall. Her feet slid back to where they had started.

  "I don't think I can climb up to you, though," she called.

  "Hang on, Scarl's getting his rope," Zeke yelled.

  Unfurled down the chute, the rope was laughably short.

  "I think you might have to come down to me," she shouted.

  "How?" Scarl demanded.

  "Well... the way I did it worked."

  They thought she was joking and clearly did not find it funny.

  "I'm serious! It doesn't hurt if you think of riding a wave. Just keep your feet downhill and watch for big rocks. And you'd better sit down first."

  After a brief consultation with Zeke, Scarl stowed his rope and reached into the pocket where he kept his Finder's glass.

  "Just stay there," he called. "I'll find a better way down, perhaps back where more bushes anchor the soil."

  Some half hour before, Ariel had peered down through the brambles Scarl meant. Those tangles of growth draped jagged razors of rock.

  "Are you sure?" she yelled, as Zeke and Scarl led Willow back the way they'd come. "That seems even more--"

  The horse leapt forward and sideways, teetered right on the edge, and then found his footing again. While he scrambled, Ariel's human friends vanished.

  "Scarl? Zeke!" She peered all around Willow, but he was alone; his bulk hadn't merely knocked down or hidden Scarl and Zeke. The trembling packhorse showed Ariel his hindquarters and whinnied uncertainly down the far slope. Ariel could only imagine her friends sliding, like she had, down the opposite face of the ridge. Not being able to see their descent, to know they were riding the mud as safely as she had, was torture.