Chronicles of Ancient Darkness Read online

  Suddenly he was back in the freezing dark of the Far North. He felt the powerful grip of the Oak Mage. He saw the hunched bulk of the Bat Mage standing guard, and caught the orange glare of the greatest of owls. Then Seshru the Viper Mage was blotting out the stars, and he was staring up into eyes the deep blue of the sky before middle-night. He watched her perfect mouth pronouncing his fate as she drove the bone needle again and again into his skin and smeared him with the blood of murdered hunters. This mark will be like the harpoon head beneath the skin of the seal. One twitch and it will draw you . . .

  ‘Torak?’ said Renn.

  He was back in the shelter.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘What I should have done in the beginning. I’m going to cut it out. Tell me how to do the rite.’

  ‘No,’ she said without hesitation.

  ‘Renn. You’ve got to.’

  ‘No! You couldn’t do it on your own, you don’t know Magecraft.’

  ‘I’ve got to try.’

  ‘Yes, and I’ll help you.’

  ‘No. If you helped me, you’d be outcast too.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘Well I do.’

  Renn pressed her lips together. She could be incredibly stubborn.

  So could he. ‘Renn. Listen to me. Not long ago, they took Wolf – because of me. He was nearly killed – because of me. That’s why I haven’t howled for him now, because he’d only try to help, and get hurt. If you got hurt because of me . . . ’ He stopped. ‘You’ve got to swear – swear on your bow and your three souls – that if they cast me out, you won’t try to help.’

  A noise in the clearing. Torak saw the bent figure of the Raven Mage hobbling towards them.

  ‘Renn!’ he said in an urgent whisper. ‘Do this for me! Swear!’

  Renn raised her head, and in her dark eyes, two tiny flames leapt. ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘The clans have gathered,’ said Saeunn in her raven’s croak. ‘The elders have decided. Renn. Leave.’

  Renn lifted her chin.

  ‘Leave.’

  Defiantly, Renn turned to Torak. ‘I meant what I said.’ Then she was gone.

  The Raven Mage told Torak to gather his things, and waited at the mouth of the shelter, clutching her staff in one shrivelled claw. Her sunken eyes watched him without pity. A life spent peering into the world of the spirits had detached her from the feelings of the living.

  ‘Not the sleeping-sack,’ she rasped.

  ‘Why not?’ said Torak.

  ‘The outcast shall be as one dead.’

  Torak’s belly turned over. Until now, he’d clung to a faint hope that Fin-Kedinn might be able to save him.

  The rain came, pattering onto the hide roof and making the fire smoke. He picked up the last of his gear and glanced around. Often, he’d hated this shelter. He’d never got used to the Raven way of staying in the same camp for three or four moons, instead of moving on every few days, as he’d done with Fa. Now he couldn’t imagine leaving it and never coming back.

  ‘It is time,’ said Saeunn.

  He followed her into the clearing.

  The clans were gathered about a huge long-fire. It was still light, but the rain clouds turned it to dusk. Torak was glad of the rain. People would think he was shivering with cold, not fear.

  The crowd parted to let them through, and he took in a blur of firelit faces. Raven. Willow. Viper. Boar. But no Mountain or Ice clans, and none from the Deep Forest or the Sea. This was a matter for the Open Forest. He wondered when his kinsman in the Seal Clan would get to hear of what had happened. What would Bale think?

  Aki had planted himself at the front of the throng. He’d scrubbed his skin clean of pine-pitch, but it had gone a blotchy red, and he’d had to cut his hair short, like boar bristles. He wore two throwing-axes in his belt, a birch-bark horn at his hip, and a triumphant expression. Clearly he would lose no time in hunting the outcast.

  Rain hissed on the fire and dripped off the trees that watched at the edge of the clearing. Rain trickled down Renn’s cheeks like tears. But it couldn’t be tears, because Renn never cried.

  Fin-Kedinn was waiting by the fire with the other clan elders. His face was impassive. He didn’t look at Torak.

  Saeunn hobbled to Fin-Kedinn’s side, and addressed the clans. ‘I am the oldest of the clans of the Open Forest,’ she declared. ‘I speak for them all.’ She paused. ‘The boy bears the mark of the Soul-Eater. The law is clear. He must be cast out.’

  ‘Ah.’ A sigh rose from the crowd.

  Torak’s knees sagged.

  ‘Wait!’ A man’s voice called from the edge of the clearing.

  All heads turned.

  Torak saw a tall figure step into the firelight. Rain plastered his long dark hair to his skull, except for two shaven strips at the temples. His eyes had an odd yellow gleam, but his high-boned face seemed strangely familiar.

  Then Torak saw the clan-tattoos, and the back of his neck prickled. Two dotted lines on the cheekbones. A strip of sodden grey fur on the left side of his parka.

  Aki had seen it too. ‘No!’ he cried. ‘You can’t stop it now, the elders have spoken!’

  The tall man stared at Aki – and the Boar Clan boy drew back, abashed.

  ‘Who are you?’ said Torak.

  The tall man turned and fixed his gaze on him. ‘I am Maheegun. Leader of the Wolf Clan.’

  THREE

  They emerged from the trees as soundlessly as a wolf pack.

  Women, men and children: plainly clad in reindeer hide to blend into the Forest. An amulet of raw amber gleamed at every throat, and like Maheegun, their temples were shaven and stained with red ochre. As they moved into the firelight, Torak saw that the whites of their eyes were yellow. Like wolves.

  The Leader seemed to recognize Fin-Kedinn, as he gave a distant nod; but he neither smiled, nor placed his fists on his breast in friendship. Torak was reminded of a lead wolf loftily assessing a stranger.

  The rest of the Wolf Clan gave the same remote half-bow, except for a woman who smiled at Fin-Kedinn in a way that briefly made her young again. For answer, the Raven Leader put his hand on his heart and bowed to her. Torak recalled that long ago, Fin-Kedinn had been fostered with the Wolf Clan.

  ‘Your message stone was found,’ Maheegun told the Raven Leader. ‘Why did you summon us? And to such a gathering.’

  ‘I needed you to come,’ Fin-Kedinn calmly replied.

  Maheegun drew himself up to his full height and they stared at each other. The Wolf Leader was the first to look away. His yellow gaze flicked to Torak’s clan-creature skin, then back to Fin-Kedinn. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘The son of the Wolf Mage.’

  The Wolves gasped. Some grasped their amulets, others made the sign of the hand at Torak, as if warding off evil.

  ‘The one you speak of,’ said Maheegun, ‘was the greatest Mage we ever had. He alone – for a few heartbeats – managed to become wolf. But he turned Soul-Eater.’ He touched his temple. ‘Because of him, we bear the mark of shame.’

  This was too much for Torak. ‘What shame?’ he cried. ‘My father shattered the fire-opal! He broke up the Soul-Eaters! Wasn’t that enough to make amends?’

  Maheegun ignored him. ‘Again, Fin-Kedinn, I say: why did you summon us?’

  Swiftly, Fin-Kedinn told how Torak had come to live with the Ravens, and why he needed his clan to vouch for him now. As proof of Torak’s identity, he held up Torak’s mother’s medicine horn and the blue slate knife which had belonged to his father.

  The Wolf Leader listened in silence; but when Fin-Kedinn offered him the objects, he recoiled. ‘Keep them away, they’re unclean!’

  ‘No they’re not!’ said Torak. ‘Fa gave them to me when he was dying!’

  ‘Torak, enough,’ warned Fin-Kedinn.

  The woman who’d smiled came forwards. ‘Maheegun,’ she said, ‘we don’t need proof. You have only to look at the boy’s face. He is the son of the Wolf Mage
.’

  A shiver ran through her clan. At the corner of his vision, Torak saw Renn raise her fist in triumph.

  ‘Yes,’ said Maheegun. ‘And yet – I cannot vouch for him.’

  Torak’s jaw dropped.

  Even Fin-Kedinn seemed shaken. ‘But you must. He’s your kinsman.’ When the Wolf Leader did not reply, he said, ‘Maheegun, I know this boy. He was marked against his will, he’s no Soul-Eater.’

  Maheegun frowned. ‘You misunderstand, this is not my choice. Did I say that I will not vouch for him? No. I said I can not. This boy is the son of the Wolf Mage, yes. But he is not Wolf Clan!’

  For a moment, nobody spoke.

  ‘Of course I’m Wolf Clan!’ shouted Torak. ‘My mother named my clan when I was born, just like everybody else. And Fa gave me my clan-tattoos when I was seven!’

  ‘No,’ said Maheegun.

  Drawing close to Torak, he put out his hand and touched Torak’s cheek with his forefinger.

  Torak flinched. He caught the Leader’s musty smell of wet reindeer hide. He felt the calloused finger trace the old scar that cut across the clan-tattoo on his left cheek.

  ‘Not Wolf Clan,’ murmured Maheegun, and his yellow eyes pierced Torak’s. ‘Clanless . . . ’

  There was a stunned silence. Then everyone spoke at once.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ cried Torak. ‘I’m Wolf Clan! I’ve been Wolf Clan since the night I was born!’

  ‘It’s only a scar,’ protested Fin-Kedinn, ‘it means nothing.’

  ‘How could he be clanless?’ exclaimed Renn. ‘Nobody’s clanless! It isn’t possible!’

  ‘Maheegun is right,’ rasped Saeunn.

  All heads turned to her.

  ‘The scar is no accident,’ she declared. ‘The boy’s father made it on purpose, to show that he is not truly Wolf.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Torak burst out. ‘Besides, how could you even know?’

  ‘He told me,’ said the Raven Mage. ‘He sought me out at the clan meet by the Sea.’ Her flinty gaze caught his. ‘You know this. You were there.’

  ‘It isn’t true,’ whispered Torak. But in that instant, he knew it was.

  He was seven summers old, and Fa had left him with a gaggle of jeering children while he went off to speak to someone, he wouldn’t say who. Torak had never seen so many people. He’d been frightened and excited and proud of his new clan-tattoos, although it was annoying that Fa had covered them up with bearberry juice, saying they needed a disguise; making a game of it.

  The rain had stopped, and the trees dripped sadly. Clanless, they murmured.

  ‘How could this be?’ said Fin-Kedinn.

  ‘Only his mother knew the answer,’ Saeunn replied. ‘She declared him clanless before she died.’ Suddenly, she struck the earth with her staff. ‘But this is of no concern to us! It alters nothing! The boy has no clan to vouch for him. By law, he must be cast out.’

  ‘No!’ shouted Renn. ‘I don’t care if he’s clanless! This isn’t fair!’

  She ran into the middle of the clearing. Her wet hair clung to her neck in little red snakes, and her face was fierce. Torak thought she looked older than her thirteen summers, and beautiful.

  Saeunn opened her mouth to silence her, but Fin-Kedinn raised his palm to let her speak.

  ‘You all know Torak,’ began Renn, fixing them with her gaze. ‘You do, Thull. And you, Luta, and Sialot and Poi and Etan . . . ’ One by one, she named the Ravens. Then she named those in the other clans whom Torak had met over the past two summers. ‘You all know what he’s done for us. He destroyed the bear. He rid the Forest of the sickness. This winter we would have been overrun by demons if it hadn’t been for him.’

  She paused to make them think about that. ‘Yes, he did wrong. He hid the Soul-Eater tattoo when he should have told us. But he doesn’t deserve to be cast out! How can you stand by and let this happen? Where’s the justice in it?’

  Fin-Kedinn ran his hand over his dark-red beard. Doubt crept into the faces of some of the watchers. But there was no swaying Saeunn. Again she struck the earth with her staff. ‘Clan law must be upheld! The wrongdoer must be cast out!’ She rounded on Renn. ‘And let there be no doubt, if anyone dares help him, they too will be cast out!’

  Renn glared at Saeunn in silent rebellion, but Torak caught her eye and shook his head. Don’t. You’ll only make it worse.

  Afterwards, he could never remember much of the rite of casting out, except for fragments, like flashes of lightning in a storm.

  Renn looking on with her fists clenched and her shoulders up around her ears.

  Aki stroking his axe.

  Luta swallowing tears as she offered the basket of river clay, for all to mark their cheeks in mourning.

  ‘The outcast shall be as one dead,’ intoned Saeunn.

  One by one, each of the Ravens took a piece of Torak’s gear and destroyed it, then purified their hands with a spruce bough, which they threw on the fire – just as they would have done if he’d actually died.

  Thull took Torak’s fishing spear and buried it under the trees.

  Luta laid his cooking-skin on the fire.

  Dari did the same with his auroch-horn spoon.

  Etan stamped on his birch-bark drinking cup.

  Sialot and Poi took his arrows and snapped them in two.

  Others took his waterskin and his seal-hide winter clothing – which he’d outgrown and had been saving for bedding – and burnt it.

  Finally, Renn laid his medicine pouch gently on the embers. She was the only one to look him in the eye. Torak knew she would have said sorry if she could.

  As the clearing filled with the bitter stink of burning hide, Saeunn made Torak lie on his back, and tattooed his forehead with the mark of the outcast: a small black ring, like a Death Mark.

  At last he stood alone, with nothing but his bow, three arrows, his knife, medicine horn and tinder pouch. All had been daubed with red ochre. As one who is dead.

  So far, Fin-Kedinn had taken no part in the rite, but now he walked towards Torak. His hand shook slightly as he took his knife from its sheath.

  Torak braced himself.

  It hurt more than he could have imagined. Without a word, the Raven Leader cut the clan-creature skin from Torak’s jerkin, and placed the tattered wolf fur on the fire.

  Torak bit his lower lip as he watched the fur blacken and smoke.

  ‘The outcast has until dawn to get away,’ said Fin-Kedinn. His voice was steady, but the glitter in his eyes betrayed what this was costing him. ‘Until then, he may pass freely in the Forest. After that, anyone who sees him must kill him.’ He paused. Then he made the sideways cut of the palm, which meant outcast. ‘It is done.’

  Torak stared at the fire, where the last trace of the boy he had been – Torak of the Wolf Clan – blazed, collapsed in a heap of glowing ash, and was blown to nothingness by the wind.

  Behind him, a murmur ran through the crowd. He turned, and was startled to see the watchers parting to let someone through. He saw Maheegun place a hand on his breast and bow low to the newcomer. He saw the rest of the Wolf Clan do the same.

  Then he realized why.

  A great grey wolf padded into the clearing. Raindrops beaded his silver fur, and his eyes were amber, like sunlight in clear water.

  Dogs fled. People drew back. All except Renn, who gave Torak a defiant nod.

  Torak knelt as Wolf padded towards him.

  There were times when Wolf would have leapt at Torak and given him an ecstatic welcome, waggling his paws and grunt-whining as he licked his nose and smothered him in wolf kisses. This wasn’t one of them. Tonight Wolf was the guide, his eyes alight with the mysterious certainty which came to him at times.

  They touched noses, and Torak’s gaze briefly grazed Wolf’s in greeting. Pack-brother, he said in wolf talk.

  He saw Maheegun stiffen. Yes, he told the Wolf Leader silently. I may not be Wolf Clan, but I can do what you cannot. I can talk wolf.

&nbs
p; He rose to his feet, and together, he and Wolf passed through the crowd to the edge of the clearing. Then Torak turned for one last look at the people who had cast him out.

  ‘I may be outcast,’ he told them, ‘and clanless, but I’m no Soul-Eater. And I will find a way to prove it!’

  It was a dank, chill night, and Torak ran through the Forest with Wolf running tirelessly beside him. They didn’t stop to rest: without a sleeping-sack, Torak would have frozen. Better to keep going. That way, too, it was harder to think.

  The sky was beginning to turn grey when Wolf halted: ears pricked, hackles raised. ‘Uff!’ he barked softly. Danger!

  Soon afterwards, Torak heard it too. Birch-bark horns in the distance. The baying of dogs.

  His hand tightened on the hilt of his knife.

  Aki hadn’t wasted any time.

  FOUR

  Wolf heard the dogs baying, and flicked one ear in scorn. They couldn’t catch him!

  But they might catch Tall Tailless.

  As always, his pack-brother ran on his hind legs, which made him piteously slow: Wolf had to keep stopping to let him catch up. And because he couldn’t smell or hear very much, he would never get away from the dogs if it weren’t for Wolf.

  But he made up for it by being so clever. Sometimes he was even cleverer than a normal wolf. Earlier, he’d hidden his scent by swimming through a Fast Wet. Then he’d woken a Bright Beast-that-Bites Hot and smeared ash on his face, paws and overpelt. Wolf didn’t like that because it made him sneeze, but he understood why it had to be done.

  He just wished Tall Tailless were faster.

  With the wind behind them, they wound through the trees, following the trails which wolves made long ago when the Forest was young. The baying faded, and Wolf raised his tail to tell his pack-brother that the pursuers were far behind.

  They kept going.

  The ground became stony. They climbed a rise where watchful pines whispered encouragement. Tall Tailless slipped, scattering pebbles which hit Wolf on the nose. Wolf moved past him – then realized he’d gone too far and fell behind, because Tall Tailless was the lead wolf.