Michelle Paver - [Chronicles of Ancient Darkness 01] Read online

She gestured at the trunk. The tree-blood has hardened. ‘Look, it’s almost black.’

  He studied the tree. She was right. The bear had clawed the bark at least two day s before.

  But he couldn’t share Renn’s relief. She didn’t know the worst of it.

  With each kill, Fa had said, its power will grow ... When the red eye is highest ... the bear will be invincible.

  Here was the proof. On the night when the bear had attacked, it had been huge. But not this huge.

  ‘It’s getting bigger,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ said Renn.

  Torak told her what Fa had said.

  ‘But - that’s not even a moon away.’

  “I know.’

  A few paces off the trail, he found three long black hairs snagged on a twig at about head height. He stepped back sharply. ‘It went that way.’ He pointed down into the valley. ‘See how the branches have sprung back in a slightly different pattern.’

  But that didn’t reassure him. The bear could have returned by another trail. .

  Then, from deep in the undergrowth, came the sharp ‘tak tak’ of a wren.

  Torak breathed out. ‘I don’t think it’s anywhere close. Otherwise that wren wouldn’t be calling.’

  As night fell, they made a shelter of bent hazel saplings and leaf mould by a muddy stream. Holly trees gave a pretence of cover, and they lit a small fire and ate a few slips of dried meat. They didn’t dare risk the salmon cakes; the bear would have smelt them from many daywalks away.

  It was a cold night, and Torak sat hunched in his sleeping-sack, listening to the faint, faraway roar that Renn said was the Thunder Falls.

  Why had Fa never told him about the Prophecy? Why was he the Listener? What did it mean?

  Beside him, Wolf slept with ears twitching. Renn sat watching a beetle clamber down from the firewood.

  Torak now knew that he could trust her. She’d risked a lot to help him, and he couldn’t have escaped without her. It was a new feeling, having someone on his side. He said, ‘I need to tell you something.’

  Renn reached for a twig, and helped the beetle off a branch.

  ‘Before he died,’ said Torak, ‘my father made me swear an oath. To find the Mountain, or die trying.’ He paused. ‘I don’t know why he made me swear. But I did. And I’ll do my best.’

  She nodded, and he saw that for the first time she truly believed him. There’s something I’ve got to tell you, too,’ she said. ‘It’s about the Prophecy.’ Frowning, she turned the twig in her fingers. ‘When - if - you find the Mountain, you can’t just ask the Spirit for help. You’ve got to prove that you’re worthy. Saeunn told me last night. She said that when the crippled wanderer made the bear, he broke the pact, because he made a creature that kills without purpose. He angered the World Spirit. It’ll take a great deal to get it to help.’

  Torak tried to swallow. ‘What will it take?’

  She met his eyes. ‘You’ve got to bring it the three strongest pieces of the Nanuak.’

  Torak looked at her blankly.

  ‘Saeunn says that the Nanuak is like a great river that never ends. Every living thing has a part of it inside them. Hunters, prey, rocks, trees. Sometimes a special part of it forms, like foam on the river. When it does, it’s incredibly powerful.’ She hesitated. That’s what you’ve got to find. If you don’t, the World Spirit won’t help you. And then you’ll never destroy the bear.’

  Torak caught his breath. Three pieces of the Nanuak,’ he said hoarsely. ‘What are they? How do I find them?’

  ‘Nobody knows. All we have is a riddle.’ She shut her eyes, and recited,

  ‘Deepest of all, the drowned sight.

  Oldest of all, the stone bite.

  Coldest of all, the darkest light.’

  A breeze sprang up. The holly trees gave a prickly murmur.

  ‘What does it mean?’ said Torak.

  Renn opened her eyes. ‘Nobody knows.’

  He bowed his head to his knees. ‘So I’ve got to find a mountain that nobody’s ever seen. And work out the answer to a riddle that nobody’s ever solved. And kill a bear that nobody can fight.’

  Renn sucked in her breath. ‘You’ve got to try.’

  Torak was silent. Then he said, ‘Why did Saeunn tell you all this? Why you?’

  ‘I never wanted her to, she just did. She thinks I should be a Mage when I’m grown.’

  ‘Don’t you want to be?’

  ‘No! But I suppose - maybe there’s a purpose in these things. If she hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you.’

  Another silence. Then Renn wriggled out of her sleeping-sack. ‘I’ll take our packs outside. We don’t want the food smell to draw the bear.’

  When she’d gone, Torak curled up on his side and lost himself in the fiery heart of the embers. Around him, the Forest creaked in its sleep, dreaming its deep green dreams. He thought of the thousands and thousands of tree-souls thronging the darkness: waiting for him, and him alone, to deliver them from the bear.

  He thought of the golden birch and the scarlet rowan, and the brilliant green oaks. He thought of the teeming prey; of the lakes and rivers full of fish; of all the different kinds of wood and bark and stone that were there for the taking if you knew where to look. The Forest had everything you could ever want. Until now he’d never realized how much he loved it.

  If the bear could not be destroyed, all this would be lost.

  Wolf leapt up and went off on one of his nightly hunts. Renn returned, got into her sleeping-sack without a word, and fell asleep. Torak went on staring into the fire.

  There’s a purpose in these things,’ Renn had said. In a strange way, that gave him strength. He was the listener. He had sworn to find the Mountain. T he Forest needed him. He would do his best.

  He slept fitfully. He dreamed that Fa was alive again; but instead of a face, he had a blank white stone. I am not Fa. I am the Wolf Mage ...

  Torak woke with a start.

  He felt Wolf’s breath on his face; then the downy brush of the cub’s whiskers on his eyelids, and the needle-fine grooming-nibbles on his cheeks and throat.

  He licked the cub’s muzzle, and Wolf nuzzled his chin, then settled against him with a ‘humph’.

  ‘We should have crossed lower down,’ said Renn as they craned their necks at the Thunder Falls.

  Torak wiped the spray from his face, and wondered how anything in the Forest could be this angry.

  All day they’d been following the calm green Widewater upstream. But now, as it thundered over a sheer wall of rock, it was appalling in its fury. Before it, the whole Forest seemed to stand and stare.

  ‘We should have crossed lower down,’ Renn said again.

  ‘We would’ve been seen,’ said Torak. Those meadows were too exposed. Besides, Wolf wanted to stay on this side.’

  Renn pursed her lips. ‘If he’s the guide, then where is he?’

  ‘He hates fast water. His pack was drowned in a flood. But he’ll be back when we’ve found a way to get above the falls.’

  ‘Mm,’ said Renn, unconvinced. Like Torak, she’d slept badly, and she’d been moody all morning. Neither of them had mentioned the riddle.

  Eventually, they found a deer track that wound up the side of the falls. It was steep and muddy, and by the time they reached the top they were exhausted and soaked in spray. Wolf was waiting for them: sitting beneath a birch tree a safe distance from the Widewater, shaking with fear.

  ‘Where to now?’ panted Renn.

  Torak was watching Wolf. ‘We follow the river till he tells us to cross.’

  ‘Can you swim?’ asked Renn.

  He nodded. ‘Can you?’

  ‘Yes. Can Wolf?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’
/>
  They started upstream, pushing through brambles and tangled rowan and birch. It was a cold, overcast day, and the wind scattered birch leaves onto the river like small amber arrowheads. Wolf trotted with his ears flat back. The river ran fast and smooth on its way to the falls.

  They hadn’t gone far when Wolf began to run up and clown the bank, mewing. Torak could feel his fear. He turned to Renn. ‘He wants to cross, but he’s frightened.’

  The brambles are too thick here,’ said Renn. ‘What about further up by those rocks?’

  The rocks were smooth and splashed with treacherous looking moss, but they reared a good half-forearm out of the water. They might provide a way across.

  Torak nodded.

  ‘I’ll go first,’ said Renn, pulling off her boots and tying them to her pack, then rolling up her leggings. She found a stick for balance, and slung her pack over one shoulder, so that it wouldn’t drag her down if she fell in. Her quiver and how she carried in the other hand, high above her head.

  She looked scared as she approached the water. But she made it across without faltering - until the final rock, when she had to leap for the bank, and ended up grabbing a willow branch to haul herself up.

  Torak left his pack and weapons on the bank, and pulled off his boots. He would carry Wolf across, then return for his things. ‘Come on, Wolf,’ he said encouragingly. Then he said it in wolf talk, hunkering down on his haunches and making low, reassuring mewing noises.

  Wolf shot under a juniper bush and refused to come out.

  ‘Put him in your pack!’ shouted Renn from the other side. ‘It’s the only way you’ll get him across!’

  ‘If I did that,’ yelled Torak, ‘he’d never trust me again!’

  He sat down in the moss on the edge of the bank. Then he yawned and stretched, to show Wolf how relaxed he was.

  After a while, Wolf emerged from the juniper and came to sit beside him.

  Again Torak yawned.

  Wolf glanced at him, then gave a huge yawn that ended in a whine.

  Slowly, Torak got to his feet and picked Wolf up in his arms, murmuring softly in wolf talk.

  The rocks felt ice-cold and slippery under Torak’s bare feet. In his arms, Wolf started shivering with terror.

  On the far bank, Renn held onto a birch sapling with one hand, and leaned towards them. ‘That’s it,’ she shouted above the thunder of the falls, ‘you’re nearly there!’

  Wolf’s claws dug into Torak’s jerkin.

  ‘Last rock!’ shouted Renn. ‘I’ll grab him ...’

  A wave slapped into the rock, splashing them with freezing water. Wolf’s courage broke. Twisting frantically out of Torak’s grip, he leapt for the bank, landing with his hind legs in the water and his forepaws clawing at the bank.

  Renn leaned down and caught him by the scruff. ‘I’ve got him!’ she yelled.

  Torak overbalanced and crashed into the river.

  Torak came up spluttering with cold, fighting the river. He was a strong swimmer, so he wasn’t too worried. He’d grab that branch jutting from the bank...

  The next one, then.

  Behind him, he heard Renn shouting his name as she tore through the brambles, and Wolf’s urgent barks. It occurred to him that the brambles must be very thick, as Renn and Wolf were dropping further and further behind.

  The river punched him in the back, smashing him limp as a wet leaf against a rock. He went under.

  He kicked his way to the surface, and was shocked to see how far he’d been carried. He couldn’t hear Renn or Wolf anymore, and the waterfall was sliding closer with astonishing speed, drowning all voices but its own.

  His jerkin and leggings were dragging him down. The cold had deadened his limbs to sticks of bone and flesh, working without feeling to keep his head above the surface. He couldn’t see anything except white-foam waves and a blur of willows. Then even that disappeared as he went under again.

  It came to him quite clearly that he would be swept over the waterfall and killed.

  No time for fear. Just a distant anger that it should end like this. Poor Wolf. Who’s going to look after him now? And poor Renn. Let’s hope she doesn’t find the body, it’ll be a mess.

  Death boomed at him. A rainbow flashed through the spume and spray… then the waves smoothed out like a skin and suddenly there was no more river in front, and it was hard to breathe as he went over. Death reached up and pulled him down, and it was shining and smooth, like the moment of falling asleep ...

  Over and over he fell, water filling his mouth, his nose, his ears. The river swallowed him whole: he was inside it and it roared through him, this pounding power of water.

  Somehow he surfaced, gulping air. Then it pulled him down again into its swirling green depths.

  The roar of the river faded. Lights flashed in his head. He sank. The water turned from blue to dark-green to black. He was languid and frozen past feeling. He longed to give up and sleep.

  He became aware of a faint, bubbling laughter. Hair like green waterweed trailed across his throat. Cruel faces leered at him with merciless white eyes.

  Come to us! called the Hidden People of the river. Let your souls float free of that dull, heavy flesh!

  He felt sick, as if his guts were being pulled loose.

  See, see! laughed the Hidden People. How swiftly his souls begin to drift free! How eagerly they come to us!

  Torak turned over and over like a dead fish. The Hidden People were right. It would be so easy to leave his body and let them roll him forever in their cold embrace...

  Wolf’s desperate yowl cut through to him.

  Torak opened his eyes. Silver bubbles streamed through the dark as the Hidden People fled.

  Again Wolf called to him.

  Wolf needed him. There was something they had to do together.

  Flailing his numb stick-limbs, he began to fight his way back towards the surface. The green grew brighter. The light drew him...

  He’d nearly reached it when something made him look down - and he saw them. Far below, two blind white eyes staring up at him.

  What were they? River pearls? The eyes of one of the

  Hidden People?

  The Prophecy. The riddle. ‘Deepest of all, the drowned sight.’

  His chest was bursting. If he didn’t get air soon, he would die. But if he didn’t swim down now and grasp those eyes - whatever they were - he would lose them forever.

  He doubled over and kicked with all his might, pushing himself down.

  The cold made his eyes ache, but he didn’t dare shut them. Closer and closer he swam… he reached out towards the bottom - he grasped a handful of icy mud. He had them! No way to make sure - the mud was swirling thick around him, and he couldn’t risk opening his fist in case they slipped free - but he could feel the weight of them dragging him down. He twisted round and kicked back towards the light.

  But his strength was failing, and he rose with agonizing slowness, hampered by his sodden clothes. More lights flashed in his head. More watery laughter. Too late, whispered the Hidden People. You’ll never reach the light now! Stay here with us, boy with the drifting souls. Stay here for ever...

  Something grabbed his leg and pulled him down.

  He kicked. Couldn’t get free. Something was gripping his legging just above the ankle. He twisted round to wrench himself free, but the grip held tight. He tried to draw his knife from its sheath, but he’d tightened the strap around the hilt before starting the crossing, and he couldn’t get it loose.

  Anger boiled up inside him. Get away from me! He shouted inside his head. You can’t have me - and you can’t have the Nanuak!

  Fury lent him strength and he kicked out savagely. The grip on his leg broke. Something gave a gurgling howl and sank into darkness. Torak shot upwa
rds.

  He exploded from the water, gulping great chestfuls of air. Through the glare of the sun he glimpsed a sheet of green river, and an overhanging branch approaching him fast. With his free hand he reached for it - and missed. Pain exploded in his head.

  He knew that he hadn’t been knocked out. He could still feel the slap of the river, and hear his rasping breath – but his eyes were open and staring, and he couldn’t see.

  Panic seized him. Not blind, he thought. No, no please, not blind.

  The female tailless was whimpering and waving her forepaws, so Wolf left her and hurtled down the track.

  When he smelt Tall Tailless among the willows, he began to whimper too. His pack-brother was slumped over a log, half in the Wet. He smelt strongly of blood, and wasn’t moving at all.

  Wolf licked his cold cheek, but Tall Tailless didn’t stir. Was he Not-Breath? Wolf put up his muzzle and howled.

  A clumsy crashing announced the female tailless. Wolf leapt to defend his pack-brother, but she pushed him away, hooked her forepaws under Tall Tailless’s shoulders, and hauled him out of the Wet.

  Despite himself, Wolf was impressed.

  He watched as she put her forepaws on Tall Tailless’s chest and pressed down hard. Tall Tailless began to cough! Tall Tailless had breath again!

  But just as Wolf was jumping onto his pack-brother to snuffle-lick his muzzle, he was batted away again! Heedless of Wolf’s warning growls, the female pulled Tall Tailless to his legs and they staggered up the bank. Tall Tailless kept blundering into hazel bushes, as if he couldn’t see.

  Watchfully, Wolf walked beside them, relaxing a little when they reached a Den a good distance from the Fast Wet: a proper Den, not a small, airless one.

  Still the female wouldn’t let Wolf near his pack-brother. Snarling, Wolf slammed her with his body. Instead of moving away, she picked up a stick and threw it out of the Den, pointing at it and then at Wolf.

  Wolf ignored her and turned back to Tall Tailless, who was trying to tug off his pelt. Finally, Tall Tailless had only the long dark fur on his head. He lay curled on his side with his eyes shut, shaking with cold. His poor furless underpelt was no use at all.