Spirit Walker
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the Death Marks on him." He tried to swallow. "Something the Seal Mage said made me think that-- the seventh Soul-Eater . . ."
Fin-Kedinn rubbed a hand over his face. Then he laid the lime bast in the grass.
"My father," said Torak. "It was my father."
A gust of wind shivered the branches, hazing the air with drifting sweetness. The trees were trying to soften the blow. "No," said Torak, sinking to his knees. "No."
He read his answer in the Raven Leader's eyes.
After a while, Fin-Kedinn came and sat beside him. "Do you remember," he said, "when I told you that in the beginning they were not evil? Your father believed that. That's why he joined them. To heal the sick, to chase away demons." His gaze became distant and full of pain. "Your mother never believed it. She knew. But by the time he saw the truth, it was too late." He spread his hands. "He tried to leave. They wouldn't let him."
"Is that why they killed him?" said Torak.
Slowly the Raven Leader nodded.
Torak sat with his head bowed to his knees, shaken by dry, wrenching sobs. Fin-Kedinn sat beside him: not touching, not speaking, but steadying by his presence alone. At last the Raven Leader rose to his feet. "I'm going back to camp now. You stay here. Peel the rest of this
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bundle. Wash the bast in the stream. Hang it up to dry."
Torak nodded, too numb to speak.
"Tomorrow," said Fin-Kedinn, "I'll teach you how to make rope."
Torak had run till he could run no farther, but his thoughts would not be stilled. Fa had been a Soul-Eater. Fa, his own Fa . . .
There was a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe. A storm of rage and grief and fear.
He came to a halt by a boisterous stream that tumbled over big, mossy boulders. A squirrel shot up a sycamore tree. An otter stopped eating a trout and fled into the ferns. Torak knelt to drink, and his name-soul stared back at him. Torak of the Wolf Clan. Torak the spirit walker.
With a cry he snatched a clump of yellow suncups and tore them to pieces. He didn't belong with the Ravens. He didn't belong anywhere. . . .
After a while, the otter came back for its half-eaten trout and settled down to finish its meal. In the sycamore, the squirrel started nibbling bark to get at the sweet, sticky tree-blood. Torak sat with his back against the trunk, watching them--and some of his tumult eased. They didn't care that his father had been a Soul-Eater. They 354
didn't care that he was a spirit walker. As long as he left them in peace, they were content for him to remain.
He placed his palm on the tree's rough bark, and felt its power coursing through him. The power of the Forest.
Deep within him, he felt a stirring of resolve.
This
was where he belonged: here in the Forest. Through all the bad things that had happened, the Forest had given him strength. Strength to defeat the bear. Strength to survive Tenris and the Sea Mother. Strength to face his destiny. And maybe Fa's spirit--wherever it was-- knew that, and was proud. Above him the sycamore stirred in the breeze: spreading wide its arms, watching over him. Torak raised his head and stared at the glowing green leaves. With the help of the Forest, he would face his destiny. He would do whatever lay in his power to vanquish the Soul-Eaters. "I will do this," he said out loud. "I
will
do this."
Wolf found his pack-brother sitting by the little Fast Wet, tearing up shiny gray petals in his forepaws.
Wolf splashed into the wet to cool his pads, then ate some of the flowers to be companionable. He wagged his tail. Tall Tailless did not smile back. Wolf smelled his sadness and was puzzled. Wolf was feeling
very
happy. His confusion was
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gone. He knew what he was for. When he'd been a cub, he'd helped Tall Tailless fight the demon bear. Then on the island of the fish-birds, he'd chased the demons out of the half-grown taillesses. This
was what he was for: to help Tall Tailless fight demons.
It meant never returning to his pack on the Mountain, but Wolf didn't mind too much, because he would be with his pack-brother. If only Tall Tailless wasn't so sad. To make him feel better, Wolf leaned against him, and rubbed his scent into his pelt.
Tall Tailless turned to him and said,
Do you know what I am?
Wolf was surprised.
My pack-brother.
But do you know what creature I am? What I can do?
Yes, I know,
Wolf replied a little impatiently. He'd always known.
To his surprise, Tall Tailless stared at him hard-- which was scarcely polite. Then he began to smile.
You know?
he said.
Wolf wagged his tail.
He decided they'd had enough talk, and went down on his forepaws, barking and asking Tall Tailless to play. When his pack-brother still didn't move, Wolf pounced. His pack-brother gave a startled yowl and toppled backward onto the bank. Wolf nose-nudged him in the
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flanks. His pack-brother grabbed Wolf's scruff and play-bit him on the ear.
Soon they were rolling about in the grass, and Tall Tailless was making the odd, breathless yip-and-yowl that was his way of laughing. SPIRIT
WALKER
is the second book in the
Chronicles of Ancient DamnesS
series, which tells the story of Torak's adventures in the Forest and beyond, and of his quest to vanquish the Soul-Eaters.
Wolf Brother is
the first book. The third book,
Soul Eater,
will be published in 2007.
Find out more about
Chronicles of Ancient Darkness at
www.chroniclesofancientdarkness.com
.
Visit Michelle Paver's website at
www.michellepaver.com
and meet other
readers of
Spirit Walker
at the official
worldwide fan site,
www.torak.info
.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Torak's world is the world of six thousand years ago: a time after the Ice Age and before farming, when the whole of northwest Europe was covered by Forest. The people in Torak's time looked just like you or me, but
their
way of life was very different. They didn't have writing, metals or the wheel, but they didn't need them. They were superb survivors. They knew all about the animals, trees, plants and rocks of the Forest. When they wanted something, they knew where to find it, or how to make it. They lived in small clans, and many of them moved around a
lot
--some staying in camp for only a few days, like Torak of the Wolf Clan; others staying for a whole moon or a season, like the Raven and Boar Clans; while others stayed put all year round, like the Seal Clan. And in case you're wondering, the Ravens and the Boars have moved a bit since the events in Wolf Brother,
as you'll see from the slightly amended map.
When I was researching
Spirit Walker,
I spent time in the Lofoten Islands of northwest Norway, and also in Greenland. I studied the traditional ways of life of the Sami and Inuit peoples, and learned about their ways of building boats, hunting seals and making clothes. The inspiration for the Crag came from a visit to the ancient rock carvings of the Dyreberget at Leiknes in northwest Norway.
The inspiration for the Hunters came from swimming with
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wild killer whales in Tysfjord, north Norway. I couldn't have written about Torak's experiences in the water without having been there, too; and like Torak, I found that swimming in the sea with killer whales altered forever my perception of these amazing creatures. I want to thank the people at the Polaria in Tromso, Norway, for helping me understand what it's like to be a seal; the people of western Greenland for their hospitality, openness and good humor; the UK Wolf Conservation Trust for some unforgettable ti
mes with some wonderful wolves; the people of Tysfjord for helping me get close to killer whales and white-tailed eagles; and Mr. Derrick Coyle, the Yeoman Raven Master of the Tower of London, for sharing his extensive knowledge of some very special ravens. Lastly, as always, I want to thank my agent, Peter Cox, and my editor, Fiona Kennedy, for their unfailing enthusiasm and support.
MICHELLE PAYER LONDON, 2005