Stars and a Wind- The Complete Trilogy

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  Thoddun shrugged. “Last time I saw you, you tried to kill me. I returned to you as a boy, and you tried to kill me then. When I travelled recently through our tunnels and came close enough to call, you caused an avalanche. Now you’ve come to me, but not in peace. You come leading a war party, aligned with the wild wolves and exiled enemies of my community. You kill my people, you take over my home, and after a few words between us, you throw me into the dungeons. You were never a welcoming host, little brother.”

  “Then tell me now,” Grimr said. “Convince me. I know you’re lying. Show me if you’re not.”

  “From the cells? Under threat?” Thoddun shook his head. “This is my realm, my country, and the land of my people. I’ll help you, Grimr, but through negotiation, and the terms I decide. And first I’ll start with the boy.”

  Grimr muttered, “What terms?”

  Thoddun smiled. “Your mind’s as clear as a simple human’s. Don’t shit before you’ve eaten. Give me assurances, but mean them, or I’ll hold the boy hostage and leave you to dream of your rotting corpse.”

  “Give me assurances and proof,” spat Grimr, “or you’ll be taken back to the dungeons. Remember where power lies, my dear, and will lie, until this fantasy army of yours arrives.”

  Thoddun laughed, which hurt again, and licked the fresh trickles of blood from his lips. He leaned deeper into his pillows with their perfumes of Skarga, his own blood, and Grimr’s dead wolf. “The dungeons are already destroyed and you’ve no cell to put me in,” Thoddun smiled. He swallowed his pain, and looked at the boy. “Come here,” he said. The boy obeyed at once. Grimr objected, changed his mind, and slumped back. The boy stood in front of Thoddun. “Closer,” Thoddun said. “Here. Now, kneel.” He clasped his hands either side of the child’s head. Knut blinked and cried out, lurching backwards. Thoddun did not release him. The boy quietened and closed his eyes.

  Thoddun fingered the child’s silk fringed curls, smiled again, and let him go. Knut opened his eyes, grinning wide. He looked around, transformed. His mouth, usually sullen, tucked up at the sides and he was flushed. “So they do live,” he gasped. “And I can talk to them, know them, touch them, like that? How, when you’re not holding me?”

  “You have to build your own channels,” Thoddun said, leaning back tired. “That’s what they are – channels. You channel the bear and the sea eagle, as I do. When you’re eleven perhaps, or twelve, you’ll learn to Shift and know them fully. They only hurt you because you deny them. They batter at your barriers. Open channels, let them through. They’ll take shape and love you from within.” He looked past the boy to Grimr.

  Grimr sighed. “He’ll be active then?” he said softly. “Not – inert? Not even lame, like our father’s eagle? No. Then he has the bear from our mother, the eagle from our father, and will be a Threefold. No wolf. Perhaps that’s – better. I am – satisfied.”

  “You still believe he’s your son?” Thoddun said.

  “I know he is,” said Grimr. “I feel it. I knew his mother when I was young. She was my thraell for some months before I threw her out. If I’d known she’d pupped – but I didn’t. She ran off to have the child and I thought no more about her. When I saw the boy, he was already five or six. I recognised him as mine at once. I smelled the transanima in him, but more than that, I see my face in his, and my father’s face in both of us. You must see it too.”

  Thoddun smiled. “You remember our father’s face? I have tried very hard to forget it.”

  “I’ll never forget it,” said Grimr. “Nor what he did, trying to resurrect his eagle. I haven’t done that. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “It doesn’t work,” Thoddun frowned, “and cannot work.”

  Grimr shook his head. “So you know a better way? But I know my wolf isn’t dead. This boy’s my blood. That means the wolf is sick, wounded, perhaps dying. But I’m not entirely inert. You know that’s what it means.”

  “Then I shall help,” said Thoddun.

  CHAPTER TEN

  He took back his bed. He threw off the covers where the stink of dead wolf disgusted him. He then doctored himself. His first medicine was the Shift.

  Lying stretched upon the cold floor, rugs kicked back, he became the bear. He completed the Change very slowly, delighting in the release of emotional suffocation, loosening the bitter tension of injured muscles. The bear lay on his side, panting a little, allowing the great body to reclaim its strength. Then, craning his neck, he licked the knife wound across his shoulder, cleaning away the blood and closing the flesh; bear saliva, hot and rich and soothing. Then he turned, and stood, and limping slightly, padded over to the waterfall where the frost danced in star spray. He stretched out his head so the water washed his face. He closed his eyes. The fine cuts across his eyelids burned, but the cold eased and began to heal them. The deep rips over his muzzle from claw and tooth were cleansed and cooled. Then he lay out again, his head hanging partly over the rock’s edge, the sound of the water all around him. The bear stayed there for some time and dozed.

  It was later that he roused and moved back into the chamber, refreshed but still bleeding from the back leg where he had been slashed and bitten. He remained lame. He began to lick the wound, concentrating around the deep lacerations where the flesh was torn. Very slowly, as he worked, the pain began to fade. It bled clean, and then staunched. He continued nibbling away the fur to leave the opening untainted. He also licked his groin where the sword had bruised him. His body throbbed and remained painful but he was pleased to have survived. He had considered and accepted the risk of death. The release of his people and the setting of the fire had been the priority. His life was valuable to him, but risk of death was the essence of every life.

  It was a long time later when he returned to man. Then he climbed slowly back onto his bed, and slept.

  Again the boy woke him. Thoddun blinked, stretched with a groan, and found Knut standing over him, watching. He smelled food and smiled, a little bleary. Knut said, “Good. You’re awake. I’ve brought break-fast.”

  “I don’t want bread and grains,” said Thoddun. “I need meat. And silver.”

  Knut frowned. “You want to be paid?”

  Thoddun sat, pulling himself up to lean against the pillows. He grinned. “No, child. Meat to replace lost blood. Silver for the wound. I’ve a damned hole above my knee, open to infection. I need a sliver or a scraping of silver, and a decent bandage. Get me those and I’ll answer all your wretched questions afterwards.”

  When Knut returned, he sat on the rug beside the bed and watched patiently while Thoddun treated his injured leg. A sudden spangle of sun flashed through the waterfall, lighting the boy’s hair. He was dressed as Grimr was, in the dense decorated silks, gold thread and pleated linen that defined power and princedom. His armlets, broaches and amulets were gold and silver, some set with amber. He had cut from his own armlet to supply the silver Thoddun demanded. Thoddun, whose clothes were more stained, torn and ruined than was usual, ignored him for some time. He bound the scrapings of metal across the gaping mess at the side of his left knee, bandaged it tightly, rolled his stockings back up and his britches back down. Then he ate the food the boy had brought. Finally Knut breathed again and said, “Can I ask now?”

  Thoddun nodded, continuing to eat.

  “You know what I should ask better than I do,” Knut said. He sat cross-legged, hands on his knees. His eyes were flecked with excitement. “I want to know everything. About the transanima and exactly what that means. About my father. About you. About myself. Especially what I have to do about Shifting, and stopping the pain until I can.”

  “Two years might be sufficient for that, if we neither sleep nor pause to piss.” Thoddun looked at him calmly over the edge of his bowl, then licked his fingers. “Answer me this first. You deny Grimr when he insists he’s your father. Why?”

  Knut looked at his lap. “My mother said – she said he wasn’t. When I was growing up in the slaves’ huts, people said I loo
ked like the lord. My mother’d been his personal thraell so people thought – well, it was likely. But my mother said she knew he wasn’t. She said I’d already been seeded by someone else, before she’d been taken into Grimr’s bed. She never explained anything else. Perhaps she only said it because she didn’t like Grimr. He was cruel to her, and she hated him. I don’t know, but Grimr’s sure – he says he’s sure.”

  Thoddun nodded. “To Grimr it’s important. Don’t deny him, not yet,” he said. “It’s true you look like him. He seems to care for you, and he’s good to you.”

  “Most of the time. But you said he can’t make children. Because he’s inert and his wolf’s dead.”

  “I said that.” Thoddun sighed. “And Grimr knows. That’s why it’s important for him to claim you as his own. If he’s sired a child, he’s not fully inert. So there’s hope to resurrect his wolf. I won’t kill his hope yet. But I can smell the wolf’s corpse. It’s dead. Still-born.”

  “I can smell it too,” Knut whispered, and blushed. “But I couldn’t ever smell my own. Can you?”

  Thoddun smiled. “No. Because yours are alive, and waiting.”

  Knut sighed, his shoulders slumped, his face relaxed. “It’s been – in every nightmare,” he said. “But you’re lying then, when you tell my father you can bring his back to life?” Thoddun paused, then shrugged. “Alright,” Knut said. “Tell me about myself.”

  “Come here then,” Thoddun said, patting the bed covers beside his wounded leg. “And I shall begin to explain a little of what you should know.”

  The short sunlight had sunk once again into uneasy gloom and Thoddun still talked. The boy lay curled, his head on Thoddun’s lap above the dark crusted bandage. Knut was awake and attentive, but exhausted. He had spoken, for the first time fully aware, to both the inner bear and the eagle, and had learned why he adored the creatures within. He had learned the source of his magic, and some of the things he would be able to do once he was mature. He had sat quietly, eyes alight, while Thoddun placed his hands over his head, igniting the knowledge and the awareness, introducing him intimately to his channels. Then, equally exciting to him, he had been allowed to place his own hands on Thoddun’s brow, entering briefly the life of the Fourfold, and the changes he would one day experience himself. He lived many years and many lifetimes in the short space between the rising of the late winter sun, and its setting beyond the sea.

  Thoddun would not Shift for him. “Your miserable guards have left me more uncomfortable than I’ve been since my own father had his hands on me,” Thoddun said. “I’ll not play games, nor waste my strength. When I wish it, I’ll show you. Or someone else will. If your father hadn’t imprisoned or frightened my people away, there’d have been two boys here, a little older than yourself, one owl, one eagle. I’ve taught them both to Shift, and they’d have shown you, and befriended you. But they’ve both flown far off.”

  Knut sat up a little, twisting around and resting his head against Thoddun’s chest, long curls tousled over the dirty linen. Thoddun found it unexpectedly endearing and put his arm around the boy’s shoulder. Knut said, “I’m sorry. Will they come back?”

  Thoddun smiled and nodded. “Eventually.”

  It was later when he sent him back to his father. Knut shared the new room Grimr had chosen, having accepted banishment from the great chamber of the waterfall. Dignity hid Grimr’s reluctance, though Thoddun read his brother’s and his nephew’s thoughts and smiled. Thoddun had insisted on re-inhabiting his own room, but he was still under guard. A prisoner, of sorts.

  The next time the boy came, Grimr brought him. Thoddun was listening to the message from the eagle above. Ingolf had flown the miles from cave to castle and was the first spy to report. The eagle landed on the ice turrets and folded its wings against the eastern winds. Both Thoddun and his imprisoned men now waiting underwater and in the boats, heard and answered. It was the news Thoddun had expected, and he was pleased to hear it. Skarga and Egil, escorted by Kjeld, Halfdan and two others, were within three day’s dog-run of the outer gates. The entire sea army was closer and would swim into the deep caves beyond the castle at next sun rise. The sky army had passed Skarga’s sled and would arrive before her, but were exhausted and storm torn. They would need to rest before fighting. Karr, still bringing his prisoners within the tunnels, was fast approaching the castle, following the trail that Grimr and all his army had left many days before. The greater transanima army led by Lodver, Wenden bringing the reserve forces, was still some way distant but were making good time overland. But another squall blowing in from the eastern mountains would delay everyone except the sea creatures and Karr underground. Meanwhile Ogot and his more ambitious townsfolk had finally left the vik and set out towards the monster’s land of treasure, guided by the remaining wolfmen.

  Thoddun turned, looking up at Grimr. The boy stood attentive. Thoddun knew he had heard part of the message. The wild ones would also be listening. Grimr frowned into Thoddun’s smile. “So pleased with yourself, big brother?”

  “Pleased enough,” Thoddun nodded. “But under guard, and my castle crammed with the stench of humanity, not as pleased as I shall be soon.”

  “Knut tells me you’ve helped him,” Grimr said. “Do you expect me to be grateful? I may still kill you, or have you scourged to remind you of the new order. So convince me of your worth. You’ve helped the boy. Now help me.”

  Thoddun yawned. “You’ve an awkward manner of bargaining, little brother, and my compliance is less likely under threat. I think I’d prefer some bribery.”

  “You’ve claimed back your bed,” Grimr said, staring down at him. “And you’ll be well fed. You’ll get nothing else.”

  Thoddun laughed. “Have you put the fire out yet?” he asked abruptly.

  Grimr glared at him. “You live in a frozen palace. Ice doesn’t burn. What game are you playing now?”

  “I think,” Thoddun said, “it’s time to put it out. It’s undermining the foundations and I don’t want the entire castle melting. But the wolves should have smelled it by now.”

  “They have,” said Knut quietly. “A few of them rushed down some time ago. They’re still down there, and they’ve called on some of the men to help. I can hear them now. I can smell the soot. There aren’t any cells left anymore. The sea pushes deep into the passages. You must hear it too.”

  Grimr glared around and spat. “Play mind tricks with me, share secrets and keep them from me, and I’ll have you both whipped.” He spoke to Knut. “What is this fire? How have you known about it?” He struck the boy, chopping with the side of his palm.

  Knut staggered, losing his balance. “It’s only destroyed the cells and the lower levels.” Knut sat where he’d fallen, hanging his head. “I don’t see why it has to be like this. If my uncle’s going to help me, and you too, why can’t we just sit peacefully together? Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? Friends. Helping. You said he was our enemy. I don’t think he is.”

  Thoddun remained stretched back against the feather pillows. His head throbbed. His groin pulled, tugging at the wounded muscle in his leg. His face, the water dried, was burning again and his slit eyelids stung. “You’re the most exhausting couple,” he said. “I suppose, being my own family, that’s not remarkable. Are you going to tell him, little brother, or shall I?”

  Grimr flinched and turned. “You know nothing.”

  “It’s very simple,” Thoddun sighed. “Even were I human, I imagine I’d have a reasonable understanding of the situation. As it is, I see your mind as clear and bright as the winter lights above my castle.” His eyes rested again on the boy. He paused a moment, readjusting his position.

  Grimr sank back, sitting on the end of the bed, staring at his brother. Then he nodded. “Very well,” he said.

  Thoddun smiled at the boy. “Your father,” he said gently, “is my twin. We were born to the great she-bear, the white sow, in her snow den. Our father was the wolf. He was a Threefold, but his other cha
nnel, the eagle, was damaged. It could barely Shift, could not linger to breathe and could not fly. Its injuries and misery pained him. He believed the old stories. It is said, amongst our kind, that a lame or inert transanima may reignite his channel by stealing the source from an active. Our father tried to do so. He already had an active mate but when that brought no relief, he used his sons.”

  Knut looked from his father to his uncle, and back again, frowning. “I don’t understand.”

  “My brother often lies,” Grimr murmured. “But he isn’t lying now. You might as well know. Let him tell you.”

  “With our mother’s help,” Thoddun continued, “our father passed many futile years attempting to mend his flight feathers. But it became more than that. He was not a fool and must soon have realised that nothing helped. Buggering his sons mended neither his feathers nor his heart. Many transanima have a dark side. Some are more dark than light. Our father was one of the darker, and our mother helped him, holding us down, and much more. Their determination was incessant and their attacks almost nightly. They began to adore the pain and fear they caused, and without further hope of resurrecting the dying eagle, continued to humiliate and abuse us. It became their obsession. What we had accepted as inevitable when very small, we then discovered to be a perversion. But a transanima cannot be other than human when young, and against the wolf and the great sea bear, we had neither defence nor expectation of escape.

  “But I did escape. I left and I left your father with them. The misery that had been shared between us, was passed only to him. I abandoned him not only to our father’s persistent brutality, but to the bitter knowledge of his own dead or dying channel. I was eleven years when I ran away and joined the human fleets, the Lang skips on their raids to Saxony and the southern wars. I learned to love the sea, I learned to love the open sky. Most of all, away from the putrid practises and suffocating hatreds of my family, I taught myself to channel and finally learned to Shift. I stayed away for some years. I was fifteen when I returned, and by then I was already a fully active though inexperienced transanima. I came back to help your father.