Ghost Fire

by Wilbur Smith

  The tree was moving and so was the nest. Theo pushed through the undergrowth and came out at the foot of the trunk. The nest was surrounded by a cloud of bees. It sat in a fork of the tree trunk, which was bent almost double by the weight on it and shaking violently.

  Theo wasn’t the only one who wanted the honey. The dark shape he had seen wasn’t the nest.

  It was a bear.

  The trunk wasn’t thick. Theo could hardly believe such a big animal could have hauled itself so high up it. It reminded him of the monkeys he’d seen in India, hanging off the end of the slenderest branches to get to the fruit.

  The bear was almost as big as Theo. He saw long, sharp claws digging into the tree trunk, while a paw the size of a cannonball swatted at the nest. Every movement made the tree sway like a topmast in a storm.

  Suddenly the trunk snapped. Bear, nest and bough fell to the ground. The nest bounced and rolled across the ground. The bear let out an angry roar.

  Theo was rooted to the spot.

  The bear looked up and saw Theo. In an instant, its posture changed. It lowered its head and spread its paws, rocking on its haunches. The fur on its back rippled with menace.

  A stinging pain shot through Theo’s foot. He looked down. A bee had stung him: three more were crawling over his bare skin.

  The bees’ nest lay where it had landed, near his legs. It had smashed open, splashing a brown trickle of honey over his feet.

  The bear sprang at him.

  Theo stepped away from the nest and instead of taking the weight of the bear’s charge full-on, he caught a glancing blow. It knocked the wind out of his lungs and sent him sprawling onto the forest floor.

  He rolled over, wincing at the pain in his ribs. He was some distance from the nest, but the bear reared up on its hind legs, snarling at Theo and baring its teeth.

  Theo’s hand went to the knife in his belt. It wasn’t there. It must have fallen when he was knocked over. He was defenseless.

  The bear dropped onto all fours and loped toward Theo. The gaping jaws lunged for him. Theo grabbed a stick and swung it with all his might at the bear’s head. He caught it on the nose, an instant before its teeth would have sunk into his thigh.

  The bear recoiled. Theo jumped to his feet, brandishing the stick, forcing himself to advance, despite his terror. The bear rocked from side to side, a prizefighter looking for an opening. Its claws glinted, sickeningly sharp. If they touched him, they would rip his skin to ribbons. Its close-set eyes were like two black stones.

  It reared up again and, with one swipe, knocked the stick from his hands. Theo did the only thing he could think of.

  He threw himself at the bear.

  Its vast bulk barely moved as Theo hit it with his full force. It wrapped its forelegs around him, flailing with its paws. The jaws snapped and bit inches away from his head. Theo held on to its matted fur, pressing himself so close that the teeth and claws couldn’t reach him.

  It took all his strength to cling on, as the bear bucked and writhed to tear him off. The claws caught him, carving bloody stripes down his back. The pain was agony. Soon he would tire. The bear would toss him aside like a doll. He swung his fists, but they made no impact. He tried to gouge its nose or its eyes.

  The bear swung around, slamming Theo into a tree. Theo lost his grip. He dropped to the forest floor. The bear roared, so loudly that Theo felt the ground shaking beneath him.

  There was an explosion and suddenly the beast went silent. It toppled forward on top of Theo. If the tree hadn’t broken its fall, it might have crushed him. He was pinned beneath its weight.

  All he could do was move his head. He twisted round, trying to see what had happened.

  Mgeso stood ten paces away. White smoke drifted from the mouth of the musket she held at her shoulder.

  With a crashing of undergrowth, three more Abenaki appeared. Malsum was in the lead. His face lit up when he saw Theo lying under the carcass—until he realized Theo was alive.

  Theo had managed to pull one arm out from under the bear. It was scratched and bleeding, so sore he wondered if the bear had broken it. He forced himself to extend it toward the broken bees’ nest lying a distance away. “There is your honey.”

  •••

  Theo avoided Mgeso for the rest of that day—and most of the following week. Her face was like a thundercloud. No doubt she despised Theo for being so careless in harvesting the honey. Perhaps she regretted saving him.

  Winter approached. The campfires burned all day and night, curing the meat that the hunters brought back. The hides were rubbed with elm bark and dried on wooden frames beside the fires. The canoes were buried underground to preserve them for spring. They made a longhouse, with walls of stacked logs plugged with moss, and a pitched roof of lynn bark. Moses assured Theo it would stay watertight all through the winter. They floored it with more bark and spread bearskins for sleeping. With a fire burning in its center, and the tribe crowded inside, it was warm and would ensure their survival.

  Game was scarce. Theo could not see how the meat they had preserved would last the winter, but the Abenaki seemed untroubled. They lived with the rhythm of the seasons: they accepted that winter meant empty bellies and hard rations.

  One day, probably in early December, Theo was in the forest looking for more lynn trees from which to strip the bark. He was alone. The Abenaki no longer feared he would flee. There was nowhere for him to escape to.

  He ranged easily through the woods, far from the camp. Solitude was the one thing he lacked among the Abenaki. He prized those moments when he could be alone, away from Mgeso’s scorn and Malsum’s hostility.

  He saw a flash of movement through the trees. It was a deer, grazing on a young sapling. She was upwind, and his movements had not alerted her.

  He had no gun, but he never left camp without a bow and arrow in case he sighted game. He threw off the blanket he wore over his shoulders, unslung the bow, nocked an arrow and aimed. The deer paused, sensing the danger. She turned her head. Theo stayed absolutely still.

  A bird fluttered out of a bush. The deer took fright and bounded away. Theo loosed his arrow, but too late. It embedded itself into a tree.

  He should have let it go. But his blood was up, and his stomach was empty. He ran after the deer, moving gracefully through the cold forest. He vaulted over fallen logs and ducked under low boughs. He hurdled briars and dodged between thickets. His bare feet were as fleet on the hard ground as the deer’s.

  He lost her. She forded a stream and disappeared into a thick stand of bushes. He knew that if he got his feet wet, they would freeze. And he could not penetrate the thicket.

  The sky had darkened. A bitter wind had risen, whistling through the trees. Trudging back, the gale hit him hard in the face. He wished he hadn’t discarded his blanket.

  The dim, flat light distorted everything. Fixated on the deer, he hadn’t paid attention to the way he came. The frozen ground yielded few hoofprints, while the wind blew up the leaves and destroyed any trails.

  “Are you lost?” said a voice behind him.

  He spun around, hand on his tomahawk. Mgeso was watching him, so close she could have put a knife through his shoulders. He hadn’t seen or heard her.

  “You were lucky I was not an Iroquois,” she said. “Your spirit would have joined the ancestors. They sometimes range this far in winter, in search of food or animals.”

  Theo shivered. “Did you follow me?”

  “They sent me to find you. You have gone far from the longhouse.”

  Was she accusing him? “I was tracking a deer.”

  Mgeso gave a look at the forest, and then at Theo’s empty hands. Theo felt a rush of shame and frustration at being mocked again. But he thought he saw the corners of her mouth rise. Almost a smile, though only for a moment. Her face reverted to its inscrutability. “You should not have gone so far,” she said. “A storm is coming.”

  “I can find my own way back,” Theo insisted.

&nbs
p; Mgeso raised an eyebrow. Again, something like a smile seemed to hover near her lips. “Show me.”

  He began to retrace his tracks through the trees, conscious of her eyes on him. Sometimes he found a snapped twig, or a bent frond that gave him hope it was the way he had come. The wind blew stronger. Above the trees, the sky was the color of gunpowder.

  He reached a rocky outcrop and paused. Even before he saw the look Mgeso was giving him, he knew he had been there before.

  “We’ve gone in a circle.”

  Something stung his skin. A feathery piece of down had drifted from the sky and landed on the back of his hand. But why was it so cold? It melted as soon as he touched it.

  Mgeso giggled.

  “Is this snow?” he said in wonder. More of it was falling, swirling down between the trees, like blossoms.

  “Have you never seen it before?” said Mgeso.

  “I have read about it in books, and heard men speak of it.” He marveled at the sight. “It’s magical.”

  “You will get used to it.” But she was no longer laughing. “We must get to shelter soon.”

  He let her lead the way. The wind rose. The snow was falling fast. Fat flakes settled quickly on the cold ground. Soon it was completely covered.

  “Are you sure you know the way?” Theo asked.

  Mgeso glared at him. “I can—”

  She broke off with a yelp of pain and sank to the ground clutching her ankle. The snow had hidden a rabbit hole, and she had stepped into it. She tried to stand, but the moment she put weight on her foot she collapsed again.

  “Let me carry you,” Theo offered.

  She didn’t argue. But, light though she was, it was hard work. The wind cut against his face, blinding him with snow. He had to bend double to make progress, blundering into branches and trees. On his back, he could feel the heat seeping out of Mgeso. Her weight became heavier as she lost strength.

  He began to be afraid. Theo had no blankets, and only a few kernels of dried corn in his pouch for food. Mgeso’s head slumped on his shoulder. She paid no attention to where they were going, though it would have made little difference. He had lost all sense of direction.

  If they continued they would get more lost. But walking was keeping Theo warm. If he stopped moving in the blizzard, they could freeze to death.

  In the chaos of the storm, he almost missed it. But living with the Abenaki had heightened his awareness of the forest: he noticed things he barely saw. There was a tree, split open at the bottom, the trunk peeling apart to reveal a hollow inside.

  The gap was wide enough for a person to enter. Theo pushed Mgeso through, then gathered twigs and branches. He squeezed in after her and reached out to pile up the wood over the entrance. The wind still cut through like a knife against his skin. Mgeso, pressed against him, was ice cold.

  “Take off your dress,” he said.

  Bending almost double in the confined space, she took off her buckskin tunic. Theo wrapped her in his jacket, then wove her tunic through the sticks over the opening. The wind pressed it taut. He chopped away rotten wood from the inside of the tree and stopped up the cracks around the edges. When he had finished, the hollow was almost weatherproof.

  Theo cradled Mgeso against him, letting his bare skin warm hers. She didn’t protest. After the maelstrom, the warmth and stillness had a strange serenity. The wind howled outside, the tree groaned, like a ship on a high sea, but Theo felt safe.

  “What do you think of the snow now?” Mgeso asked.

  “I am not sure I care for it,” Theo admitted.

  “It is a gift to the earth,” said Mgeso. “In the ancient times, the frost giants held the whole world in their icy grip. Our ancestor, Koluskap, traveled north to the kingdom of the frost giants. He fought them. Most, he wrestled to death, but a few he left alive. They venture forth again in winter, spreading their blanket over the land so that the earth can rest.”

  “I would like it better if the earth didn’t try to kill me while it was resting.”

  “Because you try to fight it. It is the way of your people, the Bastaniak. They fell the trees. They hunt the animals until there are none left, and then they complain they are hungry. They take more than any man needs to live. That is why the earth fights back.”

  “The Bastaniak are not my people.” Theo touched the lock of hair on his shaved head. “I am Abenaki now.”

  “Yes.”

  She snuggled against him. Theo was glad to feel heat returning to her body.

  “Tell me about where you come from,” she said. “Is it a hot land?”

  “So hot, I once saw a brass door handle melt.”

  “What is a door handle?”

  He laughed. Lying in the dark, he conjured up visions of India. The women in their vivid saris going down to the ghats to wash. The smell of curry, arrack and spices. The call of monkeys and peacocks. The airy palaces that Mughals and merchants built for themselves, and the bright chaos of the bazaar. He told her about the elephants. He expected she would disbelieve him, but she grew animated, asking questions.

  “Our ancestors knew these creatures,” she declared. “In the first days, they roamed these forests like the bear and the deer. We hunted them.”

  Theo wondered if it could be true. The chill forest seemed a world away from the dusty plains of India. Surely any elephant would have frozen to death, like Hannibal’s crossing the Alps. Yet when Mgeso said it, she sounded as if she had seen them herself.

  Her head nestled against his shoulder. Her glossy black hair was so close, he started stroking it. He leaned forward to kiss it.

  Mgeso tipped her head back, so that his mouth met her lips.

  She was the first woman he had kissed since the night with Abigail. The memory brought a stab of guilt, but only for a moment. Warmth and desire drove out the thought. At last he accepted that Abigail was gone forever.

  The old tree creaked. The wind whistled through the branches. A dim glow showed around the edges of the entrance, where the last traces of daylight reflected off the snow. Inside the tree it was almost pitch dark. They held the kiss for what seemed an eternity. Her tongue pushed his lips apart, seeking his mouth. He responded, pulling her closer against him, thrilling to the touch of her bare breasts against his skin. She gave a moan of pleasure.

  Eventually they broke apart. Her face was close, her breath brushed his cheek.

  “You did not have to do that,” Theo murmured.

  “I wanted to. And more.”

  She felt for his hand in the dark and guided it down to her buttocks. Fumbling in the cramped space, she angled herself so he could lift her onto him. His body was firm and eager, galvanized by the kiss. She gasped as he slid inside her.

  Mgeso used the same expert movements she had that first night in the village, throbbing around him while barely seeming to move. But there was tenderness, this time. She was not trying to control him, but to please him: bringing him to the brink, letting him go, then bringing him back to even greater heights of pleasure.

  At last he poured himself into her with shudders of delight that seemed rooted in the deepest parts of his being. But she had not finished with him. She kept him in her grip, working him against her body until, with cries so loud they drowned out even the storm, she climaxed.

  “I thought you hated me,” Theo said afterward. They lay entwined, sticky with each other’s sweat.

  Mgeso laughed. A soft, seductive sound. Theo could have listened to it forever.

  “At first, yes. But then—” She traced her fingers through the hairs that were growing thick on his chest. “I watched you. I saw what kind of man you are. You take the hardest work and do not complain. You give the children the choicest sweetmeats from the animals you hunt. Your strength when you fought the bear.”

  “I thought you were furious with me. That you despised me for making you save me.”

  She shook her head. “I was angry with Malsum. He knew the bear was in the thicket—he boasted of it afterw
ard. It was a cruel trick. As soon as I knew, I came running to rescue you. But if you had not held off the bear so long, you would have died.”

  She nibbled his earlobe. “You are kind and brave.”

  “But Moses told me . . . You and Malsum—”

  “I do not love Malsum,” she said. “I love you.”

  “And I love you.” He hadn’t thought it until that moment, but as he said it he knew beyond doubt it was true.

  She felt between his legs again. He needed no coaxing: his body was ready.

  “The storm may last for hours,” she murmured in his ear.

  “Then we had best make sure we keep warm.”

  •••

  When sunlight broke through the next morning, the snow in front of the entrance was two feet deep. Mgeso’s dress, which they had used to cover the door, was frozen solid. It took a long time to thaw and eventually they dug their way out. Into a different world.

  Everything was white. Snow clung to the trees and layered the branches, which bent, as if they were laden with fruit. The forest floor was a single smooth carpet, softly contoured where the snow folded over a rock or a fallen log. The sun shone strongly out of a clear sky, and the sleeping earth glowed with dazzling light.

  Theo remembered Nathan’s words: So clean and pure, when the snow’s just fallen, you think it’s wiped away every bad thing in the world. At last he understood.

  He took a step forward, and sank up to his thigh in snow.

  “You look like a moose in a swamp,” Mgeso said.

  “How will we get back to the camp?” Theo asked. Mgeso’s ankle had swollen, with violent bruising. It would be impossible for her to walk. They had eaten the last corn from his pouch hours earlier, and his stomach was clenched with hunger.

  He began to worry.

  Mgeso sat up. “What is that noise?”

  He listened. Snow had changed the forest, deadening the sound so that everything became very still, punctuated by the occasional crack of a branch breaking under the weight of snow. There was a new noise. A rhythmic crunch, like footsteps walking on gravel. But no one could walk so fast through that snow.