Chronicles of Ancient Darkness Page 56

  But even in so short a time, the demons had come pouring from it, and now the forest of stone thronged with them: swarming about the Bright Beast-that-Bites-Cold. And still Stone-Face held it high, forcing them to her will. And Wolf sensed that neither Tall Tailless nor the female – nor he himself – dared attack her, for they knew that she was the very evil of evils.

  He was wrong.

  The pack-sister’s attack had roused Tall Tailless, and now he barked to her, and she turned and tossed him her great claw: the one that had bitten off part of Wolf’s tail.

  Tall Tailless caught it in one forepaw – then ran towards Stone-Face – towards the demons!

  Terror dragged at Wolf’s paws, but he loved his pack-brother too much to forsake him now. Together they ran through the fog of fear. Then Tall Tailless drew back his forepaw and swung the great claw – not at Stone-Face, not at the demons – but at a thin stone sapling towering overhead.

  Clever Tall Tailless! The trunk cracked – teetered – and crashed down. The demons screeched and skittered away like ants from an auroch’s hooves, and Stone-Face was brought down, and the Bright Beast flew from her forepaw, clattering across the floor – and its cold light was swallowed by the Dark.

  As one, the demons howled. They were free! And now they were spreading through the Den like a great Fast Wet, and Wolf hid with Tall Tailless in the thicket of stone, his heart bursting with terror and despair as they swept past him.

  Already he could hear the bad taillesses fighting among themselves, blaming each other for the loss of the Bright Beast-that-Bites-Cold. Only Wolf saw the pack-sister stumble upon it and snatch it up, and hide it in the scrap of swan’s hide that hung about her neck.

  Then she grabbed Tall Tailless by the forepaw, and dragged him by the dim glow of the branch towards a smaller Den high in the side of the main Den; a narrow Den like a weasel’s tunnel, through which flowed the clean, cold smell of the Up.

  With a pang, Wolf realized what they meant to do. They meant to go by a path he couldn’t take. His tail drooped as he watched them peel off their overpelts and make ready to go.

  Tall Tailless knelt. Go! He told Wolf. Find the other way out! Meet us in the Up! And Wolf wagged his tail to reassure him, because he sensed his pack-brother’s worry, his unwillingness to leave him.

  Then they were gone, and Wolf turned on one paw and raced from the Den, following the clean, cold scent pouring in from the Up.

  Torak was lost in an endless tunnel of crawling and gasping, and more crawling. This terrible, terrible hole. How had Renn managed it, not once, but three times?

  It was night when they dropped exhausted into the snow. A windy night in the dark of the moon, with only the glow of stars on snow to light the way – and no sign of Wolf.

  At least, not yet, Torak told himself. But he’ll make it out. If anyone can, it’s Wolf.

  After the warmth of the caves, the cold was merciless, and their teeth chattered too hard for speech as they struggled to untie their bundled-up clothes and yank them on.

  ‘The fire-opal,’ panted Torak at last. ‘I saw it fall – it touched rock. That means the demons are free!’

  Renn gave a terse nod. In the starlight her face was pale, and her black hair made her look like someone else.

  ‘Did you see where it fell?’ said Torak. ‘Did one of them pick it up?’

  She opened her mouth – then shook her head. ‘Come on,’ she muttered, ‘we’ve got to reach the skinboat before they get out!’

  He didn’t know if she meant the Soul-Eaters or the demons. He didn’t ask.

  Floundering through the snow, they made their way round the spur. The Eye of the Viper was shut, but as they reached it, Torak glimpsed a small, pale shape slip through a gap and race away. His heart leapt. The white fox had found the way out!

  He turned to Renn, and saw that she was smiling. At least someone had escaped.

  As they watched, they saw the scuttling darkness of the wolverine – who for once was more intent on getting away than on biting anyone. Then the eagle emerged: ungainly in the snow, until she spread her wings and lifted into the sky.

  ‘Go safely, my friend,’ Renn said softly. ‘May your guardian fly with you!’

  Then came the otter: pausing for a moment to dart Torak a penetrating glance before streaking off down the mountain. And finally – when Torak was turning sick with dread – Wolf.

  He had a struggle to squeeze through the hole, but once he was out, he simply shook himself and came bounding down to them with his tongue hanging out, as casually as if he fled demon-haunted caves every night of his life.

  When he reached Torak, he rose lightly on his hind legs, put his forepaws on Torak’s shoulders, and covered his face in wet wolf kisses.

  Heedless of the Soul-Eaters – heedless of demons – Torak snuffle-licked him back. Then together they raced down to the sleds, and Wolf bounded about in circles while they hurriedly retrieved their packs.

  Down the mountain they ran, with Wolf pausing to let them catch up. At the head of the iced-in bay, he helped them find their skinboat, buried beneath a fresh fall of snow.

  But when the skinboat was in the water, and hastily loaded with their gear, when Renn and Torak had taken their places – Wolf refused to jump in.

  ‘Can’t you make him?’ cried Renn.

  With a sinking feeling, Torak took in the set of Wolf’s ears, and the stubborn spread of his paws. ‘No,’ he said. He heaved a sigh. ‘He hates skinboats. And he’s better off going overland. They’ll never catch him.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Renn.

  ‘No!’ he snapped. ‘But it’s what he means to do!’ Of course he wasn’t sure. Even in the Forest, a lone wolf’s life is a short one – but out here, on the ice?

  There wasn’t even time to say goodbye. As Wolf stood looking down at him, their eyes met briefly – but before Torak could speak, Wolf had turned and sped away, a silver streak racing over the snow.

  The sun was just cresting the mountain as they brought the boat about and headed south, slicing the water with their paddles. Luckily, the wind was behind them, so they made good speed.

  When they were out of arrowshot, Torak turned.

  ‘Look,’ said Renn.

  The mountainside was still in shadow, but stark against the grey snow, Torak saw a darker shadow pouring down the slope.

  ‘Demons,’ he said.

  Renn met his gaze, and in the gloom her eyes were blacker than the Sea.

  ‘We failed,’ she said. ‘The demons are loose upon the world.’

  THIRTY-ONE

  Far away on the northern-most edge of the Forest, the sun rose over the High Mountains. Around the Raven camp, birch trees stirred uneasily as they dreamed.

  ‘Demons,’ said Saeunn, crouching on a willow mat to read the embers. ‘I see demons coming from the Far North. A black flood, drowning all who stand in its path.’

  Only Fin-Kedinn heard her. The hunting had been good, and the rest of the clan was asleep, their bellies full of baked red deer, and rowanberry mash; but the Raven Leader and his Mage had sat up all night at the entrance to his shelter, while the stars faded and the sky turned grey, and around them the Forest slept on in the hushed radiance of a heavy snowfall.

  ‘And there can be no doubt?’ said Fin-Kedinn. ‘It is the work of the Soul-Eaters?’

  As the Raven Mage stared into the embers, the veins on her bald pate throbbed like tiny snakes. ‘The fire spirit never lies.’

  An ember cracked. Snow pattered down from the spruce tree overhead. Fin-Kedinn glanced up – and went very still.

  ‘We’ve come too far north,’ said Saeunn. ‘If we stay here, there’ll be nothing between us and the demons!’

  ‘What about Renn and Torak?’ said Fin-Kedinn, his eyes fixed on the spruce.

  ‘What about the clan?’ retorted Saeunn. ‘Fin-Kedinn, we must go south! We must head for the Widewater, take refuge at the Guardian Rock! There I can weave spells to protect us, set li
nes of power about the camp.’

  When Fin-Kedinn did not reply, she said, ‘This must be the end to what you’ve been thinking.’

  The Raven Leader dragged his gaze back to the Mage. ‘And what have I been thinking?’ he said in a quiet voice that would have made any other clan member blanch.

  Saeunn was undaunted. ‘You cannot lead us into the Far North.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t lead you, Mage. I’d make sure that you stayed here, in the Forest –’

  ‘I’m not thinking of myself, but of the clan, as you well know!’

  ‘And so am I.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Enough!’ With a slicing motion of his palm, he cut short their talk. ‘When I tell you how to do Magecraft, you may tell me how to lead!’

  Again he raised his head, and this time he spoke not to Saeunn, but to the creature who stared down at him from the spruce tree: the eagle owl with the feathered ears and the fierce orange glare, who sat watching. Listening.

  ‘I won’t lead the clan out of the Forest,’ said Fin-Kedinn without dropping his gaze. ‘I swear it on my souls.’

  The eagle owl spread its enormous wings and glided north.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Torak and Renn made good speed, and for a while, relief at having escaped the caves raised their spirits. It was good to be out in the brilliance of ice and Sea and sky; to hear Wolf’s brief, reassuring howls drifting from the east – I’m here! I’m here! – and to howl back an answer.

  ‘They’ll never catch us now!’ yelled Renn.

  She told Torak how she’d slashed the Soul-Eaters’ skinboats, and he laughed. Wolf was free, and they were heading back to the Forest. Soul-Eaters and demons seemed very far away.

  Then, quite suddenly, the day turned. Flinty clouds darkened the sun. Fog crept in from the Sea. Torak’s head ached with fatigue. His paddle was heavy in his hands.

  ‘We’ve got to rest,’ said Renn. ‘If we don’t, we’ll capsize, or crash into an ice mountain.’

  He nodded, too exhausted to speak.

  It took all their strength to haul the skinboat out of the water, and drag it across the sea ice to the shelter of an ice hill; to prop it up on shoresticks, and pack snow over it for a makeshift shelter.

  As he worked, Torak remembered the sudden stillness that had come over the Viper Mage. ‘What are you?’ she had said. She had sensed his souls in the tunnel of the offerings, as they were making their way back to his body; maybe she had guessed that he was a spirit walker.

  From far away came the deep ‘oo-hu, oo-hu’ of an eagle owl.

  Renn paused with her mittens full of snow. Her face was taut. ‘They’re after us.’

  ‘I know,’ said Torak.

  ‘Oo-hu, oo-hu.’

  He searched the sky, but saw only fog.

  Renn had already gone inside the shelter, and he was alone on the ice. Sounds came to him unnaturally loud: the moaning of the wind, the distant boom of crashing ice. His head ached, his eyes stung. Even the shelter and the hill were strangely blurred.

  Out of the corner of his vision, he caught movement.

  He spun round.

  Something small and dark, flitting from ridge to ridge.

  His mouth went dry. A demon?

  He wished Wolf were here. But he hadn’t heard a howl since mid-afternoon.

  Drawing his father’s knife, he went to investigate.

  Nothing behind the ice hill. But he had seen it.

  He sheathed his knife and crawled into the shelter. Renn was already huddled in her sleeping-sack. He didn’t tell her what he’d seen.

  They were too exhausted to pound blubber for the lamp, or to force down more than a few bites of frozen seal meat.

  Renn fell asleep instantly, but Torak lay awake, thinking about that dark shape flitting from ridge to ridge.

  The demons were out there. He could feel them sapping his spirits, quenching courage and hope.

  And it’s your fault, he thought. You failed, and now they’re loose. It was all for nothing.

  He woke feeling stiff and sore. His eyes felt as if someone had rubbed sand in them. He couldn’t think of a single reason for getting up. The demons were loose. It was no use fighting back.

  Outside, Renn was moving about in the snow. Why did she have to make so much noise? Surely she knew that every crunch of her boots was ramming another icicle into his head.

  To put off going outside, he checked what remained of his gear. In the rush to get away, he’d left behind his axe and bow, but his waterskin was still around his neck, his tinder pouch and medicine pouch on his belt, and Fa’s knife safe in its sheath.

  The hilt felt curiously hot. Maybe it was an omen. He should probably ask Renn. But that would only give her a chance to boast about how much more she knew than him. The thought filled him with unreasonable rage.

  When he couldn’t put it off any longer, he crawled outside.

  Overnight, the breath of the World Spirit had swallowed the world. The ice – the Sea – it had taken it all. The wind had gone. Without it, the cold wasn’t so biting; but the boom of breaking ice was closer.

  That’s all we need, thought Torak. The thaw is coming.

  ‘You look terrible,’ snapped Renn. ‘Your eyes – you should’ve worn your snow-visor.’

  ‘I know,’ growled Torak.

  ‘Then why didn’t you?’

  Her voice was so grating. She was always telling him what to do. And she, of course, had worn her visor all day, because she never forgot anything.

  In prickly silence they dismantled the shelter, and carried the skinboat to the edge of the ice; then went back to fetch their gear.

  ‘Just as well I thought to slash their boats,’ boasted Renn, ‘or they’d have caught up with us by now.’

  ‘Boats can be mended,’ Torak said nastily. ‘You won’t have slowed them down for long.’

  She put her hands on her hips. ‘I suppose you think I should’ve made a better job of it? Well I didn’t have time, I had to go and rescue you!’

  ‘You didn’t rescue me!’ spat Torak.

  She snorted.

  To give her something to snort about, he told her why the Soul-Eaters were coming after them: about the spirit walking, and Seshru sensing his souls.

  Her jaw dropped. ‘You were spirit walking? And you never told me?’

  ‘So? I’m telling you now.’

  She was silent. ‘Anyway, you’re wrong,’ she said. ‘They’re not following us because of that.’

  ‘Oh no? What makes you so sure?’

  ‘It’s the fire-opal. I took it. That’s why they’re after us.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ cried Torak.

  ‘I’m telling you now. There wasn’t time before.’

  ‘There was plenty of time!’ he shouted.

  ‘Don’t shout at me!’ shouted Renn.

  He was shaking his head. ‘So it’s not only the Soul-Eaters who are after us, it’s the demons as well!’

  ‘I did mask it,’ she said defensively. ‘I’ve got herbs, and I put it in a swansfoot pouch that Tanugeak gave me.’

  He threw up his arms. ‘Oh, well that makes it all right! How could you be such a fool?’

  ‘How could you? You were the one who spirit walked!’

  Her voice rang out across the ice. The silence that followed was louder. They stood glaring at each other, chests heaving.

  Torak passed his hand over his face, as if he’d just woken up. ‘What are we doing?’ he said.

  Renn shook her head to clear it. ‘It’s the demons. They’re making us fight.’ She hesitated. ‘I think they can smell the fire-opal. Or – sense it.’

  He nodded. ‘That must be it.’

  ‘No, no, I mean, I know they can.’ She caught her lower lip in her teeth. ‘I heard noises in the night.’

  ‘What kind of noises?’

  She shuddered. ‘I stayed awake to keep watch. Then I heard Wolf. He was howling, the way he does before he goes hunting.
After that they were gone.’

  He took a few paces, then turned back to her. ‘We’ve got to get rid of it.’

  ‘How? We’d have to bury it in earth or stone – and there isn’t any out here, there’s only ice!’

  They stared bleakly at each other.

  Renn opened her mouth to speak . . .

  . . . and an ear-splitting crack split the air, as a fine black line zigzagged across the ice a hand’s breadth from her boots.

  She stared at her feet.

  The sea ice gave a sudden heave, and she staggered back.

  The black line was now a channel of water as wide as a paddle blade.

  ‘A tide crack,’ said Torak in disbelief.

  Time seemed to slow. He saw that he stood on the landfast ice – the side that held the boat and their provisions – while Renn stood on the other side: the side that was breaking away.

  ‘Jump,’ he told her.

  The floe lurched. She braced her legs to keep from falling.

  ‘Jump!’ he cried.

  Her face was blank with shock. ‘I can’t. It’s too late.’

  She was right. The crack was already more than two paces wide.

  ‘I’ll get the boat,’ he said. He raced over the ice towards the skinboat – stumbled – staggered upright again. Why couldn’t he see properly? Why was everything taking so long?

  He’d nearly reached the boat when it rocked – teetered – and slid gracefully off the ice, into the Sea. With a cry he lunged for it – but the waves sucked it just out of reach. He howled with rage – and the Sea Mother splashed saltwater in his eyes, laughing at him.

  ‘Torak!’ Renn’s voice was muffled by the fog.

  He got to his feet – and was horrified to see how far she’d drifted.

  ‘Torak!’

  He ran to the edge of the ice – but he was powerless, he could only watch as the Sea bore her away, and the breath of the World Spirit closed in around her.