Michelle Paver - [Chronicles of Ancient Darkness 01] Page 13

  ‘Wolf!’ shouted Torak, throwing himself forwards.

  With the pouch in his jaws, Wolf disappeared into the fog. The bear swung round with terrifying agility and raced after him.

  ‘Wolf!’ Torak shouted again .

  The fog engulfed them, leaving the empty hillside mocking him. The bear was gone. So was Wolf.

  Where are you? Torak’s desolate howl echoed off the rockface.

  Where are you? the hills howled back at him.

  The old pain was opening up in his chest. First Fa, now Wolf. Please, not Wolf . . .

  Renn stood blinking at the mouth of the cave.

  ‘Why did you let him off the leash!’ he cried.

  She swayed. ‘I had to. Had to set him free.’

  With a cry, Torak started rooting around in the wreckage.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Renn.

  ‘Looking for my pack. I’m going after Wolf.’

  ‘But it’ll be dark soon!’

  ‘So we just sit here and wait?’

  ‘No! We salvage our gear, we build a shelter and a fire. Then we wait. We wait for Wolf to find us.’

  Torak bit back a retort. For the first time, he noticed that Renn was shaking. She had a bloody scrape down one cheek, and a bruise the size of a pigeon’s egg coming up over the other eye.

  He felt ashamed. She’d faced the bear. She’d even had the courage to shoot at it. He shouldn’t have shouted. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean… You’re right. I can’t track him in the dark.’

  Renn sat down heavily on a boulder. ‘I had no idea what it would be like,’ she said. ‘I never thought it would be so... ‘ She covered her mouth with both hands.

  Torak unearthed an arrow from the rubble. The shaft was snapped in two. ‘Did you hit it?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think it matters. Arrows can’t bring it down.’ She shook her head. ‘One moment it was after me, and the next, it was after Wolf. Why?’

  He tossed away the broken arrowshaft. ‘Does that matter?’

  ‘Maybe.’ She glanced at him. ‘Did you get the stone tooth?’

  He’d almost forgotten about it. Now, as he reached inside his jerkin and brought out the mitten, he just wanted to be rid of it. Because of the Nanuak, Wolf might be dead.

  No more grooming-nibbles in the morning; no more uproarious games of hide and hunt… Torak bit his knuckle, fighting his fear. He couldn’t lose Wolf.

  Renn took the mitten and turned it in her fingers. ‘We’ve got the second part of the Nanuak,’ she said thoughtfully, and lost the first. But why did Wolf take it?’

  With an effort, Torak forced his mind to what she was saying. Something flickered in his memory. ‘Do you remember,’ he said, ‘when I found the river eyes - it was as if Wolf could hear them. Or sense them in some way.’

  Renn frowned. ‘You think - the bear can too?’

  “’All the shiny shiny souls,”’ he murmured. That’s what the Walker said. Demons hate the living, they hate the brightness of the souls.’

  ‘And if the souls of ordinary creatures are too bright,’ said Renn, getting to her feet and beginning to pace, ‘then how much brighter - more dazzling - must the Nanuak be!’

  That’s why it attacked you, because you had the river eyes-

  ‘And that’s why Wolf took the pouch. Because he knew. Because -,’ she stopped pacing and stared at Torak.

  ‘Because he was luring the bear away from us. Oh, Torak. He saved our lives.’

  Torak stumbled to the edge of the trail. The fog was clearing at last, and below him, the vastness of the Forest marched away into the west. What chance did Wolf have out there, alone against the bear?

  ‘Wolves are cleverer than bears,’ said Renn.

  ‘He’s just a cub, Renn. He’s not even four moons old.’

  ‘But he’s also the guide. If anyone can find a way, he can.’

  Wolf raced between the beech trees, the wind at his tail and the shining, singing ravenskin gripped tight in his jaws.

  Far away, he heard the lonely howl of Tall Tailless.

  Wolf longed to howl back, but he couldn’t. The wind was gusting the demon’s scent towards him. He smelt its rage and its terrible hunger; he heard its tireless breath. Strongest of all, he sensed its hatred: hatred for him and for the thing he bore.

  But Wolf knew with a fierce, bright joy that it would never catch him. The demon was fast, but he was faster.

  He no longer felt like a cub who must wait for the poor, slow taillesses to catch up. He was a wolf - racing between the trees in the swift wolf-lope that goes on forever. He reveled in the strength of his legs and the stretch of his back; in the suppleness that let him turn at full speed on a single paw. Oh no, the demon would never catch him!

  Wolf paused to drink at a noisy little Wet, dropping the ravenskin for a moment. Then he snatched it up and settled back into his stride, climbing higher towards the Great White Cold that he’d only ever smelt in his sleeps.

  A fresh scent drove that from his head: he was entering the range of a pack of stranger wolves. Every few paces, he passed their scent-markings. He must be careful. If they caught him, they might attack. When he needed to spill his scent, he waited till he reached another little Fast Wet, and spilt into that, instead of marking a tree. His scent would wash away, and neither the stranger wolves nor the demon would smell him.

  The Dark came. Wolf loved the Dark. In it, smells and sounds were sharper, but he could see almost as well as in the light.

  Far ahead, the stranger pack began its evening howl. That made Wolf sad. He remembered how joy fully his pack used to howl; how keenly they greeted each other liter their sleeps. The snuffle-licking and the rubbing of scents against each other; the smiling and playing as they encouraged one another for the hunt.

  Quite suddenly, as Wolf thought of his pack, he began to tire. He felt each pad strike the rocks as never before. He felt an ache running up his legs. He began to hurt.

  Fear gnawed at him. He could not go on forever. He could not go on much further at all. He was far from Tall Tailless, and crossing the range of a stranger pack. And the demon was tracking him relentlessly through the Dark.

  Torak dragged what remained of their gear into the yew branch shelter, then kicked at the fire, sending sparks shooting skywards. This waiting was terrible. He’d been howling since dusk. He knew that he risked drawing the bear, but Wolf was more important. Where was he?

  It was a cold, starry night, and even without looking up he could feel the red eye of the Great Auroch glaring down at him. Relishing his turmoil.

  Renn emerged from the darkness, bearing an armful of leaves and bark.

  ‘You were a long time,’ Torak said curtly.

  ‘I needed the right things. No sign of Wolf?’

  He shook his head.

  Renn knelt by the fire and tipped her load on to the ground. ‘When I was looking for these, I heard horns. Birch-bark horns.’

  Torak was horrified. ‘What? Where?’

  She nodded towards the west. ‘Long way away.’

  ‘Was it - Fin-Kedinn?’

  Again she nodded.

  Torak shut his eyes. ‘I thought he’d have given up by now.’

  ‘He doesn’t give up,’ said Renn. There was a hint of pride in her voice which irritated him. ‘Have you forgotten,’ he said, ‘that he wanted to kill me? ‘The Listener gives his heart’s blood to the Mountain”?’

  She rounded on him. ‘Of course I haven’t forgotten! But I’m worried about them! If the bear isn’t up here, then it’s down there, where they are, Why else would Fin-Kedinn blow the horn?’

  Torak felt bad. Renn was worried, and so was he. Fighting didn’t help.

  From his belt he untied the
little grouse-bone whistle he’d made when he’d first found Wolf. ‘Here.’ He held it out. ‘Now you can call Wolf too.’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘Thanks.’

  There was a silence. Torak asked her why she needed the herbs.

  Tor the stone tooth. We’ve got to find some way –of hiding it from the bear. If we don’t, it’ll track us down.’

  Like it’s tracking Wolf, thought Torak. The ache in his chest deepened. ‘If the rowan leaves and the pouch couldn’t hide the river eyes,’ he said, ‘why do you think bark and wormwood can do any better?’

  ‘Because I’m going to use them for something stronger’ She chewed her lip. ‘I’ve been trying to remember exactly what Saeunn does. She’s always trying to teach me Magecraft, and I’m always going hunting instead. I wish I’d listened.’

  ‘You’re lucky there’s something you can do,’ muttered Torak.

  ‘But what if I get it wrong?’

  He didn’t answer. He could feel the red eye mocking him. Even if Wolf did find a way back, he’d be bringing the bear with him, drawn by the river eyes. And the only way Wolf could shake off the bear would be by losing the river eyes - which would mean there’d be no chance of destroying the bear.

  There had to be a way out; but Torak couldn’t see it.

  Wolf was tiring fast. There was no way out.

  By now, the demon had fallen too far behind to be able to sense the ravenskin, but it was still tracking him by scent, and it would go on tracking him. When at last he slowed, as his aching paws longed to, it would catch him.

  The stranger pack had long since ended their howl and gone hunting, far away in the Mountains. Wolf missed their voices. He felt truly alone.

  The wind turned, and he caught a new scent. Reindeer. Wolf had never hunted reindeer, but he knew the scent well, for his mother used to bring him the branches that grow from reindeers’ heads, with the hide hanging off in delicious, chewable tatters. Now, as he smelt the herd in the next valley, the blood-urge put new strength in his limbs, and hope leapt within him. If he could reach them ...

  As he heaved himself up the slope, the thunder of many hooves drew nearer. Suddenly the great prey burst upon him, galloping with their branched heads high and their huge hooves splayed, as they flowed between the beech trees like an unstoppable Fast Wet.

  Wolf turned on one paw and leapt among them, and they towered over him as he plunged into their musky scent. A bull charged, and Wolf dodged the headbranches.

  A cow snorted at him to stay away from her calf, and he ducked beneath her to escape her pounding hooves. But soon the herd sensed that he wasn’t hunting them, and forgot about him. He ran up the valley: his scent swallowed up by that of the herd.

  They left the beeches and ran through a spruce forest. The rocks became bigger, the trees smaller; then the trees were left behind entirely as they streamed out onto a stone flatness like nothing he’d ever known.

  By the smell on the wind, Wolf knew this flatness stretched for many lopes into the Dark, and that beyond it lay the Great White Cold. What was it? He didn’t know. But somewhere beyond lay the thing that had called to him from his first Den, pulling him on...

  Far behind him, the demon bellowed. It had lost his scent! In delight, Wolf tossed the ravenskin high in the air and caught it with a snap.

  After a time, another noise reached him. Very faint, but unmistakable: the high, flat call that Tall Tailless made when he put the bird-bone to his muzzle!

  Then another, even more beloved sound: Tall Tailless himself, howling for him! The best sound in the Forest!

  The reindeer ran on, but Wolf knew that he had to turn back and head into the Forest again. It was not yet time to reach the Great White Cold and what lay beyond; he had to go back and fetch Tall Tailless.

  Renn was huddled in her sleeping-sack, thinking about getting up, when Torak appeared at the entrance to the shelter, making her jump.

  ‘Time we got started,’ he said, crouching by the fire and handing her a strip of dried deer meat. From the shadows under his eyes, she guessed that he hadn’t slept any better than she had.

  She sat up and took a half-hearted bite of her day meal. The scrape on her cheek felt hot, and the bruise above her eye hurt. But worse than that was the creeping dread. It wasn’t only the nearness of the cave, or terror of the bear. It was something else: something she didn’t want to think about.

  ‘I found the trail,’ said Torak, cutting across her thoughts.

  She stopped in mid-chew. ‘Which way did they go?’

  ‘West, round the other side of the hill, then down into a beech wood.’ He reached out and stirred the fire, his thin lace sharp with anxiety. ‘The bear was right behind him.’

  Renn pictured Wolf racing through the Forest with the bear closing in. ‘Torak,’ she said, ‘you do realize that when we track Wolf, we’ll also be tracking the bear?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If we catch up with it -’

  ‘I know,’ he broke in, ‘but I’m sick of waiting. We’ve waited all night, and still nothing. We’ve got to go and find him. At least, I’ve got to. You can stay here -’

  ‘No! Of course I’m coming with you! I was only saying.’ She looked at the salmon-skin mitten hanging from the roof post.

  ‘Do you think it’ll work?’ said Torak, following her gaze.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  The charm had sounded so clever when she’d explained it to him yesterday. ‘When someone gets ill,’ she’d said, feeling quite important, ‘it’s usually because they’ve eaten something bad. But sometimes it’s because their souls have been lured away by demons. The sick souls need to be rescued. I’ve seen Saeunn do it lots of times. She ties little fish-hooks to her fingertips to help her catch the sick souls; then she takes a special potion to loosen her own souls, so that they can leave her body and find the -’

  ‘What’s this got to do with the Nanuak?’

  ‘I’m about to tell you,’ she’d said with a quelling look. To find them, Saeunn has to hide her own souls from the demons.’

  ‘Ah. So if you do what she does, you can hide the Nanuak from the bear?’

  ‘I think so, yes. To disguise herself she smears her face with wormwood and earthblood, then puts on a mask of rowan bark tied with hairs from each member of the clan. That’s what I’m going to do. Well, in a way.’

  After that, she’d made a little box of folded rowan bark, and smeared it with wormwood and red ochre. Then she’d put the stone tooth inside, and tied it up with locks of her own and Torak’s hair.

  It had been a relief to be doing something instead of worrying about Wolf, and she’d felt proud of herself. But now, in the freezing dawn, doubts crowded in. After all, what did she know about Magecraft?

  ‘Come on,’ said Torak, jumping up. The tracking’s good. Light’s nice and low.’

  Renn peered out of the shelter. ‘What about the bear? It might have lost Wolf’s scent and come back for us.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I think it’s still after Wolf.’

  Somehow, that didn’t make her feel any better.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ said Torak.

  She sighed. What she wanted to say was: ‘I’m really, really missing my clan; I’m terrified that Fin-Kedinn will never forgive me for helping you escape; I think we’re mad to be deliberately tracking the bear; I’ve got a horrible feeling that we’re going to end up at the one place I don’t ever want to go; and I’m worried that I shouldn’t even be here, because unlike you, I’m not the Listener and I’m not in the Prophecy, I’m just Renn. But it’s no use saying any of this, because all you can think about is finding Wolf.’ So in the end she simply said, ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.’

  Torak threw her a disbelieving look and started stamping out the fire.


  All morning, they followed the trail through the beech wood and then through a spruce forest, turning north east and steadily climbing. As always, Renn was unsettled by Torak’s skill at tracking. He seemed to go into a trance, scanning the land with endless patience, and often finding some tiny sign that most full-grown hunters would have missed.

  It was mid-afternoon and the light was beginning to fail when he stopped.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Renn.

  ‘Sh! I thought I heard something.’ He cupped his hand to his ear. There! Do you hear it?’

  She shook her head.

  His face broke into a grin. ‘It’s Wolf!’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’d know his howl anywhere. Come on, he’s up that way!’

  He pointed east.

  Renn’s heart sank. Not east, she thought. Please not east.

  As Torak followed the sound, the ground got stonier, and the trees shrank to waist-high birch and willow.

  ‘Are you sure he’s here?’ said Renn. ‘If we keep going, we’ll end up on the fells.’

  Torak hadn’t heard her; he was running ahead. He disappeared behind a boulder, and a few moments later she heard him excitedly yelling her name.

  She raced up the slope and rounded the boulder into the teeth of an icy north wind. She staggered back. They had reached the very edge of the Forest. The edge of the fells.

  Before her stretched a vast treeless waste, where heather and dwarf willow hugged the ground in a vain attempt to avoid the wind; where small peat-brown lakes shivered amid tossing marsh grass. Far in the distance, a treacherous scree slope towered above the fells, and beyond it rose the High Mountains. But between the scree slope and the Mountains, glimpsed only as a white glitter, lay what Renn had been dreading.

  Torak, of course, was unaware of all that. ‘Renn!’ he shouted, the wind whipping his voice away. ‘Over here!’

  Dragging her gaze back, she saw that he was kneeling on the bank of a narrow stream. Wolf lay beside him, eyes closed, the ravenskin pouch at his head.