Stars and a Wind- The Complete Trilogy

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  “It’s the Shift you’re craving,” he said. “I’ll go on teaching you. But now I still have to leave.”

  “You said we had two days. Have two days gone already? Little enough time to satisfy a craving.”

  “You’re coming with me,” he reminded her. “And that’s one of the reasons I’m bringing you,” he answered her mind. “Though not the most important.”

  “I actually have another purpose?”

  He was pulling on his clothes, britches pushed into stockings. He put one foot up on the edge of the bed next to her, tying the first leg bands. “It’s humans we’ll be fighting,” he said briefly. He changed legs.

  She frowned. “So I’m useful because I’m human too? Because of my father and my brothers? To swap? To trade? Or to spy?”

  “So much for trust,” said Thoddun with a grin.

  Skarga watched him wrap the bindings of his waistband, then tug his shirt over his head. The candlelit lustre of skin disappeared beneath pale wool. “Perhaps it’s you not trusting me. But I promise there’s no one at my father’s vik I’d want to save now Tovhilda’s dead. And you grew up with humans too. Don’t you ever think of them as your people?”

  He was buckling his belt but looked up at her in surprise. “These are my people.”

  “Was there no one you loved as a boy? I loathed everyone at Grimr’s of course. Except the boy, perhaps. Though he didn’t like me.”

  “Collecting more brats?” Thoddun shrugged his tunic into shape. “What boy?”

  “Grimr’s son,” said Skarga.

  Thoddun sat, turning his back to her, and began to tug on his boots. “Grimr can’t have children,” he said. “No inert transanima can procreate.”

  Skarga curled beneath the abandoned furs. “The boy said he wasn’t Grimr’s son. He kept denying Grimr, but Grimr still claimed him.”

  Thoddun turned, looked down at Skarga, and frowned. “I doubt Grimr has that much paternal instinct.”

  “But Grimr adopted the child and seemed to care for him,” Skarga said. “He defended him, and taught him. And they looked alike.”

  Thoddun had gone across to the waterfall and was rinsing the sweat of love-making from his hands, but he paused, and returned to the bed, dripping iced droplets to the silks. He sat again beside Skarga. “Tell me about this boy,” he said.

  “There’s nothing to tell.” Skarga was surprised. “I’d almost forgotten about Knut. He was cross and rude and belligerent – and very touching.”

  Thoddun was reading the thoughts behind the eyes. “How old was this boy?” he asked.

  “Eight, perhaps. Tall for his age.”

  Abruptly Thoddun leaned forwards, clasping both his palms to her head. His hands were still wet and when he released her, her curls were damp around her ears. “I see,” he said. “Yes, there’s a family resemblance.”

  Skarga blinked. “You saw him? In my head?”

  Thoddun nodded with a faint smile. “An intrusion. I’m sorry. But I wanted to know.”

  “I didn’t know you could do that. It’s – an uncomfortable feeling. So did it help? Can you tell if you have a nephew?”

  “I might,” said Thoddun.

  It was indeed two days later when Skarga watched the first dawn. The wind hit her face like flying icicles. There was neither star nor moon, but a hesitation of spring’s peeping light filtered in a narrow cut through the distant horizon. They stood outside the outer gates, looking to the long white horizon. A flicker of sinking light already turned the whites to shining silver. The cold seemed no different and a bitter wind blew thin and sharp around their ankles. But light was always a joyous sign.

  “We now begin a commitment far beyond the usual nature of our people,” Thoddun told her, gazing out to the bustle and busyness spread huge before them. “A long journey. A battle that will continue on many fronts until our enemy is vanquished. And a greater expanse of time than the transanima are accustomed to anticipating.” He smiled. “Oh, commitment is not entirely beyond us. We sail, and know that a ship will take so many days to pass from one shore to another. We feast, and know that time will be spent until we are sober again. We know and expect, while waiting, for Yula. We plan. We look ahead. But to bind ourselves to long commitment such as this is a rare promise for the transanima. Most of us are committed only to the seasons. When to migrate. When to nest. To search for a mate. To return to the deeper ocean, or trail inland when the sea ice melts. And, of course, when simply to hunt. Even during battle, there are those who will lose interest and tire, even forgetting why they were fighting in the first place. Or yearn for the great empty wastes, and wander off. Even in defence of our own, the wild ones may suddenly abandon such a target, and no longer accept he is needed to stay over time. Few of us embrace responsibility.”

  “And you?” Skarga whispered.

  “I am a Fourfold,” Thoddun said, looking down at her suddenly. “The division of my nature is greater. But so is my commitment as leader. I do not forget duty. I never tire. The sea eagle is responsibility with wings. And this war is something I relish.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  The dawn reached over the horizon, skimming the ocean’s ice in frosted lilac. Now each day could be counted, its beginning and its ending marked by light. Distances could be timed. It would be possible to arrange meetings, separate units could establish precise arrivals, and journeys by sea, by sky and by land, would conjoin as agreed. With the return of the sun, organisation was reborn.

  “You will travel already channelled,” Thoddun told them. “You will follow the orders of the channel leader and you will fight beside him and for him. Beyond him, you will follow the direction of my Second, Lodver. And beyond him you will follow, ultimately, only those orders issued by myself.”

  From the great open cave mouth, the sea creatures left. Flokki led them. He was already in the water when he Changed, the huge sloping body of shining white catching the lamplight, the mottled black deep as the sea shadows. His orca was older than Thoddun’s and he had led armies before, even long ago.

  The other creatures of the sea, the dolphins, the belugas and the bowhead whales, followed him into the churning waters. Some men sat on the wedged edges of the ice to Shift, sliding quickly into the slap of the wavelets as their bodies merged into their channels. Halfdan stood and stretched out his arms. He Shifted mid dive and his dolphin leapt in a grey sheen of lamplight, crashing nose first into immediate depths. Oddly submerged and was already hidden as he Shifted. They had smashed the ice and the coastal cave-waters oozed a mash of creamy slush, slopping the sea in lazy, rhythmic waves. Far out on the invisible horizon, the grinding boom of icebergs echoed the long freeze. Spring had not yet fought its own battles. Sunrise became sunset, light an instant hesitation between them, dawn to gloaming, and the great hosts of birds took the sky. Safn, though the smallest amongst them, was their leader. The trackers left first and four eagles sped ahead into the dimming. The boys were not required to go to war. “We’re old enough,” Erik said. “If I’d joined my father’s Lang skip, I’d have been fighting a full year at his side by now. Egil’s a little younger, but I’d look after him.”

  “But you never joined the raiding fleets,” Lodver pointed out, “and therefore have not one sword’s thrust of experience. What’s more important, you’re neither proficient at Shifting, nor hunting channelled. You’ll stay here, helping guard our backs.” Lodver’s goshawk did not join the trackers, nor the greater flock. It was his wolverine which would be Second to Thoddun’s bear, but the creatures of the land did not march together. It was not a disciplined infantry. A huge moving mass of shadows formed each unit, shifting out on the stark snows, grouping around their leaders.

  Because there were few remaining wolves, and because even those few might be tempted by divided loyalties, they joined the foxes, the hunting cats and the southern brown bears in a unit that would scatter and re-join over the great stretch of terrain, tracking and spying, coming together to bring informati
on and finally strength in reserve to the vanguard. The main troops were the ice-bears. But Thoddun would not lead them.

  The vanguard led by Lodver and the left flank following Karr, united beneath the stars as the low fog rolled in from the sea. They had Shifted already as Thoddun brought out Skarga. She stood at the castle gates and watched at his side. When he strode forwards to speak to them, she stayed behind, watching the distant milling of fog-bound fur against snow, massed into the creeping gloom. Some hundreds of bears gathered, the strange swaying restlessness of pointed heads dipped in black inked noses, shuffling, pacing paws like the faint rumble of thunder on ice. A seething, jostling disagreement, forced quiet by their leaders. Lodver alone had not Shifted and he stood small amongst them, roaring orders. The bears snarled, remembering old disagreements. Lodver called again. Most came together, a hiss of warning, a push of the elders to the foreground. Once settled, they lowered their heads. Thoddun the man, strode between them.

  The fog thickened. Lodver mounted his sled, lost in moving white swirls and shadows. The bears chose their own time. Some plodded, huge pawed, in pairs or clutches. Others raced alone, others slow, some fast. Before the crescent moon rose hesitant, the land was quiet again and only the mists moved, whispering like ghosts.

  Thoddun turned back to Skarga. “Now,” he said, “first I send off the baggage train, the supplies and weapons. Then we leave ourselves.”

  She was prepared and was dressed as he had told her. Below her wolf pelt, she was thick layered in wool. Shift, kirtle, tunic, gloves, stockings, cape and cloak, protection against an element more powerful than arrows. She felt no cold, just rather plump. When she had told him she felt ungainly, he had said, “I like it.”

  “Does that mean I have to like it too?” she said.

  “It means you won’t die of the cold while I’m off doing something else,” said Thoddun.

  The fog disguised the moon and swallowed the tips of the distant bergs. It crept to her toes and crawled up the sides of her boots. “And the sled?” she asked, gazing down into ice.

  He smiled. “Did you think I expected you to walk?” Half lost in vapour, Skarga could still see the exhilaration bright across his face as he breathed in the freeze. She wondered if she was the reason for his not Shifting. “No,” he said at once. “I no longer indulge such sensitivities. But the power of this army is already unbounded. It needs leading, not unleashing. Each channel bonds with its own, so each unit builds loyalty and the custom of fighting together. But that also serves to separate them from the others, and into competition within our own ranks instead of aggression directed only towards the enemy. So it’s man’s brain I supply unShifted. Calculation and planning and discipline. Lodver and I will both lead as men. He’ll Shift sometimes, but it’s his thinking skills I want in charge.” He smiled down at her. “Not that I intend making this whole march south without ever Changing. The spring hunting grounds are almost open, and there’s the scent of adventure, sea bird nesting, and soon the seals birthing on the floes.”

  “It’ll be as it was before then?” Behind the seeping fog, a whistle of wind slid through, dividing the mist into curled tongues. “Travelling by sled with the dogs? Sleeping in the caves? You hunting while I wait out the storms?” It was how she had first learned to be in love with him, an avalanche of protection and discovering the mystical delight of desire. “And like before, it’ll be just us alone?”

  “I’ll need to meet up with Lodver frequently along the way,” he said. “The trackers will report. The birds will keep me informed. We’ll be taking a meandering route, linking between the others.” He grinned. “But a bear likes his solitary journeys, and this will be one I’ll enjoy.”

  “Solitary? Except for me. And it sounds more like pleasure than war.”

  “They’re all the same thing,” said Thoddun.

  “And absurd for me to worry about danger? Or you hunting the new born seal pups - killing the helpless and small before they even have a chance for their own little adventures in life?”

  He shrugged, still smiling. “Quite absurd. You’d prefer I killed adults - denying all the generations to come? Better to kill an unborn future of twenty pups or more, is it, without even digesting one of them? I’m a creature of pillage, my dear, not pity.”

  “A mother expends months of bitter energy in pregnancy, then risks her life-giving birth. Endless nurturing. Then one bite, and her baby’s just a bear’s snack.”

  He chuckled, undaunted. “They’ve short memories. And they’ll breed again. When you breed yourself, my dear, I promise you better protection.” She glared, opened her mouth, and shut it again. The wind was growing sharper and she used the pause to pull her cloak tight. “I don’t expect danger,” Thoddun said. “But with an army, and meetings to arrange, this’ll be a longer journey than last time, though it depends how far your father’s people dare come north to face us. I intend engaging them out on the snows – in my territory – not theirs – where I understand the terrain and they’re fools and strangers. But Safn tells me they’ve not yet moved from their halls. If they won’t come out willingly, I shall force them.”

  “My father’s never been a coward,” said Skarga. “But he’s always been a fool.”

  “He’s after a hero’s reputation. And the wolf pack will be urging him out against us. But his jarls may have more sense. It’s a comfortable vik, and prosperous. No monsters have personally threatened them.”

  “So why should he go to war?”

  “The temptations of treasure,” said Thoddun.

  A fleet of sleds, a hundred dogs. An army marching already Shifted carried no weapons and no food. Bears ranged free but men needed blankets. Each transanima would regroup with his leader when called, Shifting back to man for sleep, for orders, and for discussion. The creatures of air, sea and snow hunted for themselves, but an evening’s fire and feast for the men meant bonding and comfort and few transanima could Shift indefinitely or remain in their channels for more than a day or two. Sleds of supplies followed the coast. The rest went overland. Thoddun would carry his own.

  Kjeld travelled with the coastal supplies, guiding a sled so huge it dwarfed the dogs, and sixteen of them pulled it. Unable to travel channelled, Kjeld sat grinning on the raised bench, gripping the reins between massive ungloved fingers. Thoddun waved him off. “Shift when you need to,” Thoddun told him, “the dogs know the way, but remember your training, my friend. No fighting in the rookeries, no collecting a harem. And wait each night for the arrival of the men you’re supposed to be supplying.”

  Brandr and Skallagrim were left to order the defence of the castle. A formality. Thoddun spoke to them at some length. While he ordered the care of those remaining, the systematic rebuilding of the ice fortress as incoming spring melted the surface snows, and the preparations necessary should the wolf pack split and attack in Thoddun’s absence.

  Skarga said goodbye to Egil. “I’m to be a messenger,” Egil grinned. “Me and Erik. We’d sooner have come with the army, but we never really expected to be allowed. I wanted to see Banke disembowelled by one of us. Truth tells, I wanted to do it myself. But being a messenger is important too. If anything happens here while you’re gone, I’ll be the first to bring word of it. Me and Erik. And then, who knows? We might meet up with that bastard Grimr. A long time ago I swore I’d kill him.”

  “There’s something you don’t know about Grimr,” said Skarga. “Forget about killing him.”

  “I never forget anything,” said Egil.

  The fog dispersed, sinking into the white land like a sail flattened against the mast. The ground sparkled in turquoise crystals and the peaks of the distant bergs turned green. The wind kept low, whining in eddies. Thoddun’s great sled stood already loaded, just inside the castle gates. The air was clear and dry and a salt tang pricked Skarga’s eyes. She climbed the sled and sat, bracing herself against the cold, boots balanced up against the low bar. They were the dogs she recognised with an additional pai
r, seven in all, shaking their thick ruffs, impatient and excited. The lead dog hung his head, breathing vapour puffs down into the snow. Behind him the swingers, a darker furred pair, yapped and tugged at their harness.

  Thoddun leapt aboard and took the reins. He did not sit, but stood as he guided the dogs in a wide circle and out, speeding through the great castle gates. A crowd of transanima, some Shifted, cheered, busy, excited and acknowledging their chief. The sun had set but a horizontal glow of pale illumination still hung soft, a spreading reflection of the disappearing light. Then it ebbed as the pale turned once again to utter dark. The sled headed into the bleak freeze and the night closed around them.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Asved’s wolf skin was over her knees, Thoddun’s bearskin around her shoulders, and spread across both was a white stitched rug of arctic fox pelts, wrapping safe as a cub in its den. It was the cold that had healed her broken bones quickly, it was the warmth that eased her now. A powdered snow flurry spangled the air. It settled very fine on the dog’s backs, like the last dust from an upturned flour sack. As night settled, the stars rushed out. There was no wind and the only sound was the panting of the dogs, the squeak of leather between Thoddun’s fingers, and the cut of the sled’s tracks through the ice.

  It was a larger sled and heavily laden. The supplies were heaped beneath oiled wadmal and carefully balanced for travel. Skarga smelled roast meat and the tang of smoked cod. Great piles of weapons had also been loaded and a bow and quiver were now strapped across her own back. She had asked for them.

  “I can shoot, a little,” she’d said. “I had a good bow once, but lost it in the avalanche. Is there one here to my size and weight, that I could borrow? Then, when you go off and leave me alone, I’ll have my own defence.”

  He’d nodded. “Why not? I’ll find you something made for the boys. Not that I’ll be leaving you without any protection this time, but it’s as well to carry your own. How well do you shoot?”