Thoddun frowned, his mind already distant. “Those who have taken my castle are not from your town nor led by your father,” he said. “They come from the south and it is Grimr who leads them. But hush now, little one. I must call farther than I have ever called before, and need quiet.”
He was silent for a long time. Skarga held Egil close, hardly daring to breathe. The blizzard was raging in from the east and the wind rocked the stationary sled on its tracks. The supply covers billowed behind them. The dogs lay panting, barely visible through the flying snow clouds, and the wind allowed little enough quiet for whatever Thoddun needed. Finally he sat upright, pushing back snow spattered hair. His eyes were gleaming blue ice and brighter than the sky’s winter glimpses. Skarga was surprised to see he was smiling. “Very well,” he said. “It is done. Now I will explain, and you must listen very carefully. What you do, or do not do from now on, may alter all our fates. So you must understand.”
Skarga swallowed hard. “You mean to Shift and go back to the castle alone. Egil can’t fly anymore, but we can take the sled together. I’ll follow Kjeld’s tracks south until I meet up with him, and tell him what’s happened.”
Thoddun grinned, shaking his head. “Almost, my love, but not quite. Neither you nor Egil are experienced enough, the coastal dangers are too many this time of year and the dogs don’t know the way south unguided. Sadly my power isn’t strong enough for a call to reach Lodver, Safn or Flokki with the armies. They are now all too far away. The irritating distraction of your brother slowed me, and I saw no reason for haste. Grimr cannot read minds, just a fleeting impression with those close to him. He cannot read my mind, but I have always been able to read his. He must have learned to disguise his thoughts, or I’d have known he was close.”
“You’ve talked about him though,” Skarga said. “I thought you did that to make me think about him, and then read my mind to know about the things he’d done. Perhaps I misjudged you. Perhaps you spoke about him because you felt his presence without realising.”
“Whatever the reason,” Thoddun frowned, “I also failed to guess that your father, once Mandegga had roused him to declare war, would send immediately for Asved. Stories of monsters would interest Grimr at once. Clearly he then made his own plans. This is my blame alone, and I must now take the consequences.”
“You can’t fight them all on your own,” whispered Skarga.
“My call reached two of my scouting eagles,” said Thoddun. “One has flown immediately to Lodver to recall the main army. In this storm he’ll make slow progress, but as the distance decreases, he can call it on. Ingolf, the other scout, is heading here, calling to Kjeld on his way. He will arrive here first, for Kjeld’s far south and an eagle travels faster than a heavy sled. Each will send on the message to those within reach of the call. Kjeld will alert Flokki and the sea fleet. Eventually Safn’s flock will hear. The call will also reach underground, and Karr will come. He may either bring your brother back – or abandon him, being no longer of importance.”
She nodded without complaint. “And you? And me?”
“Once this blizzard has blown out, you and Egil will begin to travel back north. Ingolf’s a good man, and Egil knows him. He will drive and guard you both. There’s no hurry, and you’ll meet up with Kjeld long before you arrive. Indeed, once I know you’re safe, it’s in my interests if you don’t arrive too soon. I prefer you to travel slow, and with great care. But first I’m taking you to the cave where we were heading anyway. Before Ingolf comes, I shall leave.”
Egil peeped out from his fur cocoon. “You can’t go alone, my lord. Forgive me, but even you can’t fight so many. Our people are captives, and there are five hundred men or more under Grimr’s command. Admittedly they’re only human, but they’re well armed, and they say the wolves are coming.”
“Yes, I’ve heard them howling,” Thoddun nodded. “They’ve been sending their own messages in their own way, which I cannot read. They’ll all join Grimr now, the loose packs, what’s left of Mandegga’s miserable brood, and the wild ones. Don’t worry child. I know what I’m doing. I shall Shift. And I shall go home.”
They entered the shelter of the small cave, storm blown and frozen, Thoddun ducking his head as the sled hurtled inside. The dogs dropped at once, the sled grumbled and stilled, and Thoddun jumped down. He held up his arms and took Skarga and then Egil down onto the cold ground. Then he unharnessed the animals, dragging off their soaked leathers. The wind stormed beyond the cave mouth, a raging and impotent exile, lining the entrance with a fine white crunch and a moaning draught. Thoddun led Skarga and Egil deeper, where they huddled, clutching their furs. He scraped old guano from the rock and breathed on it, held cupped within his palms. The little flames blinked tentative, then leapt high. In a sheltered angle Thoddun laid the fire, flaring quick hot scarlet against black shadows. The rock dripped condensation.
“No one will come to threaten you here,” Thoddun said. “The wolves are racing to join Grimr, and any wandering bears have moved further north as spring melts the pack ice. Only Ingolf will come, and he will bring you to me when the storm dies.”
“I wish you could stay, and wait for Lodver,” Skarga whispered.
“It is a charming absurdity,” Thoddun grinned, “reading your minds, knowing that all your fears and worries are not for yourselves at all, even though it is you who are weak and vulnerable, but for me. It shows, however, very little trust in my capabilities or intelligence. Naturally I’ve no intention of fighting alone. I shall be taken prisoner.”
Egil stared. “But my lord, Grimr will kill you.”
“No one will kill me,” said Thoddun. “As the bear, I am impervious to storm both on land and in the water and will travel quickly. In the meantime, Grimr is destroying my walls and killing my people. Once I am there, I can bargain my own life against theirs. But be assured, I will not be killed.”
Skarga shivered. “He’ll torture you.”
“Perhaps. That’s of no matter,” Thoddun said. He bent and lifted her face to his, smiling into her eyes. “I have my own powers, little cub,” he said. “Don’t be frightened for me. Or for yourself.”
She shook her head. “I’ll try. And I’ll look after Egil.”
“I’ll look after you,” sniffed Egil.
“You must both look after each other,” Thoddun said. “Now, I can hear Ingolf close. Do you mind, little one, if I leave you now? Come, give me your hand and see me off.” She jumped up, scattering her furs, sending the fire dancing. Thoddun looked down at Egil, still crouching by the flames. “Your courage was remarkable, child,” he said. “But it may be tested again.” He took Skarga to the entrance where the dogs stretched, tongues lolling. Stepping across them, Thoddun swung Skarga into his arms, whispering directly into her ear. “I read your mind, my sweet. Is this what you want? Hold tight, then. But you must not, I beg you, be afraid.”
Holding her warm, he looked down, smiled, kissed her eyes, and began to Shift. Beneath her cheek his heartbeat became profoundly deep. His breathing lulled her. His fingers clasped tight around her shoulders. His other hand moved to her hair, caressing, drifting down to the back of her neck. Abruptly, with a small shiver, his hands lost pressure, becoming cold, all touch of his fingers gone. The sound of his breathing above her head disappeared and the little warm damp clouds of vapour puffed away. She looked up and smiled. His eyes were still all familiarity, a brilliant blue sparkle in the shadows. He smiled back at her and did not look away. Then the freeze seeped in. Losing all sense of his embrace, Skarga held tighter to him. It was still the rough certainty of his tunic, the scratch of his wide leather belt, the softer pleating of his woollen shirt. Then the clothes were gone and her fingers clutched fur. Where the shirt’s collar opened, now the wool faded and the neck widened, massive and pale. Thoddun’s heartbeat raced, carrying his breathing into the new rhythm. She felt a booming vibrancy of life more urgent than the solid complacency of any man. His face became blurred. It lowered to h
er and his back grew beneath her hands. The huge shaggy fur felt chill. She buried her fingers to where the thicker layer lay downy against his body, soft as breath, warm as fire. She had always been aware of his strength. The power of his body was always present in each embrace, evident in each small touch. But now it was immense. The bear’s breath burst into new heat. The muscle strength pulsed, rippling with sudden force as the last of the man was utterly lost. Only the echo of his eyes remained, a glinting blue within the bright black depths. The Shift had taken him much faster than usual, but she still saw his shining pleasure before it blinked out, the black eyes then reflecting only the wild swirl of the snow outside.
She couldn’t let him go. He nuzzled her face, rubbing the stubble of short facial hair across her cheek. Then he licked her mouth, bear’s tongue hot and wet and very rough. She flung her arms around his neck, kissing his eyes and his ears and his nose. Then he pulled away. He nodded, as if bowing to her, turned quickly, and disappeared out into the blizzard. The great white bulk was gone immediately into the storm and Skarga stood alone at the cave mouth and cried.
Egil tried, but did not yet have the power of making fire, “It doesn’t matter,” mumbled Skarga. “Thoddun’s spy’ll be here soon, and he can build it up. Though since you once managed to set fire to the whole hall at home, I don’t see why you can’t manage a scrubby little thing like this.”
Egil frowned. “I didn’t even know I was making fires before. It just happened when I was angry or upset. And anyway, if you hadn’t come flouncing back here with your skirts in such a swirl, you wouldn’t have blown this one out.”
The cold had increased. Dog breath rose like the steam from five little cooking pots. Skarga wrapped Thoddun’s bearskin around Egil, who still shivered. “It’s having wet feathers,” Egil explained. “They were still wet when I Shifted, so they can’t dry properly now. And trying to fly in that storm was terrible. If I’ve torn my wings, well – but I can’t Shift now to find out. Besides, without Thoddun here -”
Skarga nodded. “Perhaps you Shifted back too fast.”
“If you’re going to give lectures on Shifting,” Egil glared at her, “I shall go and sit in the snow.”
Skarga hastily apologised. “It’s hard to remember you’re not my child anymore. I mean, I always thought of you as my son. Silly – but there you are.”
“I suppose you do know a bit about Shifting by now.” Egil nodded grudgingly. “But I’m no absolute novice anymore. Of course being wet, and weak, and – to be honest – totally scared – well, it’s different. It’s not easy.”
“Nothing will be easy now,” said Skarga. “How long ago did Grimr come? We were down the tunnels just yesterday. There was no sign of anyone else then.”
Egil shook his head, his hair windswept with twigs and debris, his fingers again groping at the lightless ashes. “It must be four days ago, since it took me at least three days to find you. And I don’t know all the tunnels. I’ve never explored much underground but there are miles and miles of them, with alternative routes both north and south. The transanima must have been digging them out since Odin’s time. Grimr may not even have come through the same place you went, and if he did, he’d have left no traces behind him.”
“No traces? With five hundred men?”
“They’ve obviously been travelling below for weeks,” Egil nodded. “Grimr must have found the tunnels and guessed the direction. Lucky for him, since it was the only way he wasn’t seen by our eagles.”
Skarga paused, then sighed. “He didn’t guess. He knew all about the tunnels. And he’d know how to avoid the scouts. He knows everything. Grimr’s transanima too.”
Egil gaped. “He isn’t.”
“He is,” Skarga said. “But he’s inert. He’s the wolf, but can’t Shift. And he’s Thoddun’s brother. Twin brother. I doubt if many know, but I suppose they soon will.”
Egil, still gaping, was groping for words when immediately interrupting further discussion, Ingolf, already Changed to man, strode in past the fractious barking dogs. “Your servant, lady,” he said, bending dutifully to produce a reasonable blaze from the soot and dismal ashes. “I called Kjeld, and he’ll be with us before this storm’s over. Then, with your permission, I’ll leave you in his protection and continue north. A spy watching over the castle may prove useful and the enemy’s no threat to me, being either wolves or humans.”
Egil, still staring at Skarga, now roused himself and turned to Ingolf. “They’ve got arrows,” Egil frowned. “And if you mean to send thought messages, the wolves will intercept them too.”
Ingolf smiled faintly. “I think I can dodge a few arrows, boy. As for messages, the lord will know what to do.”
For two days the squall made flight impossible and held them prisoner. Then the snow blew out with a sudden gust of spring bluster, the wind dropped and the blizzard subsided with a puff. The three day torment fizzled and sank as the sun turned the coastal ice as pink as a blush. The twilight was shuddering into a chilly night when Kjeld called from a distance, searching them out, their tracks obscured by the fresh snow drifts. The dogs barked furiously and Ingolf hurried outside. Kjeld bent his head and stamped in with a huge lipless grin and an armful of supplies. His dogs ran to meet Thoddun’s, hectic licking and fawning, excited welcomes, the reunion of the pack and reassertion of hierarchy before racing out together to hunt.
Kjeld sank down with enormous vibrations. “Tiddle tadpole fire, is it, nor not one bite for eats?” He made Ingolf’s small flame into a furnace and at once started to cook. “Nor proper don’t eat no meats, when ‘um m’ help it,” he apologised to Skarga. “But bin right cold, an’ tis proper long road.”
Ingolf stood impatiently back from the fire, shaking his head to offers of food. “You’re in greater safety than I could ever offer now the walrus is here, lady, and the weather’s now perfect for the flight north.” He exchanged news and orders with Kjeld and then went out alone to Shift beyond sight of the cave. He had gone before Skarga had finished chewing.
Egil watched him go. “Wish I could Shift too, but I won’t risk it,” he muttered, filling his bowl. “Without Thoddun – well, I’m not sure what condition I’m in. But I don’t think my feathers could have been injured or I’d have bruises, wouldn’t I?”
Kjeld hunched over the fire, his fingers turning the scalding meat without evident discomfort. “Ah,” he said. “That’s it. If ‘tis one, then ‘tis other. Wobble feathers makes fer wobble ‘n worser. Brokes a tusk, gets a right nasty toothache, m’ do.”
Egil, equally engrossed with information and food, leaned forwards. “I wish I was more experienced,” he confessed. “It takes such a long time, doesn’t it? Thoddun can Shift mid-air. I’ve seen him. One day I’ll be able to do that.”
Skarga had thought of little else but Thoddun as the storm raged. She missed the bliss of his waterfall chamber, but most of all she desperately missed his arms. “Shifting mid-air sounds most uncomfortable,” she said vaguely, her mind wandering. He would be at the castle by now.
Egil sighed. “I only ever saw it once. We’d climbed high up in the mountains last summer. He went right to the edge of the precipice and just put out his arms and dived off. But before he touched ground, he was the eagle. He just swept up again and landed beside me.”
“Sounds dangerous,” mumbled Skarga. “I thought Shifting slowly was better.”
“That’s for Shifting back, not Shifting forwards,” Egil said. “Besides, he’s had years of experience. And he taught himself everything. Never had any tutor.”
“Fourfold,” said Kjeld from the corner, with vigorous nodding. “Young, he is. But Fourfold, well, ‘tis making four times alive.”
That night Skarga curled into Thoddun’s bearskin, belly full, body warm, and dreamed not of flying but of the fur becoming the man. When they woke well before dawn, the darkness remained huge and hollow. Kjeld harnessed both sleds, his own to lead the way. Kjeld eyed Skarga with doubt. “Not t’ more
fast, now lady. Best mighty slowly, slowly. You tell ‘em little buggers.”
The dogs’ energetic determination led them fast through the new soft snows but Skarga had no idea how to guide them. Her back and shoulders ached and the pain in both elbows became severe. She had expected it to be easier. The unpredictable weather remained docile but the sled soon hit invisible boulders and lurched. Her wrists screaming, she tugged on the reins and the sled tracks slipped level, but she wished Ingolf would return. “Trouble be,” Kjeld shouted back over his mountainous shoulder, “them dogs only used one master. Worser! Lord’s leader be top dog n’all the pack. Racing me, he is, little bugger. Wantin’ run in front. But I’s meant go first fer knowings right way.”
Skarga said, “Should I go first instead?”
Kjeld shook his head. “Proper dang’rous, lady. Only fing wot curbs them buggers, is me up front. Or them’ll be all the way top speed, an’ have you over like as not, or arms out them socket bones.”
The blizzard had left thick snow drifts banked within old crevices and again Skarga felt the sled jerk and tip. She was afraid they would topple. “Then you take the lead dog,” she called. “I’ll drive with just four.”
Kjeld shook his head once more. “An’ one them swingers is lead’s young’un, it is. Won’t run lest dad’s in sight. Or’ll squabble for lead hisself.”
Skarga glared at her dogs’ tails. “Horrid things. Shall we swap sleds then? You take this sled with the dominant dogs?”
Kjeld sighed. “Right sorry lady.” He nodded at the enormous bulk of his laden sled, stacked with the weapons and kit of the entire sea army. “Reckon m’ too big fer them little hands.”
“Only one thing for it,” grinned Egil. “We’ll all stay as we are, sleds, dogs and people. Except that I’ll drive our sled.”
Skarga snorted. “Skinny little brat like you? Why should you be any stronger than me? At least I have some experience now.”
“Well, I soon will,” said Egil, taking the reins from her slackened grasp.
Stars and a Wind- The Complete Trilogy Page 64