Amarok

by Angela J. Townsend

  Mittens blinked up at her with liquid pools of blue. Emma stroked the cat’s fur until it purred, scratching the spots on the cheeks right behind the whiskers and the one between the ears. The animal leaned into her touch, claws kneading painfully into her leg. The purr vibrated loudly, tickling her fingers. She took her furry companion and lay down in the soft field, staring up at the cotton-like clouds. They moved across the sky rapidly, and darker, more threatening ones followed close behind.

  A bitter wind seemed at odds with the beautiful day, blowing the dainty lace handkerchief from her hand. Grandma frowned and peered at the sky. She smoothed her knotted hands across her plaid apron and started to pack up their things, tucking them into a basket. Emma sat up, shivering. The sky continued to darken with the gathering storm. Thick clouds muted the bright sunshine, and the faint rumblings of thunder could be heard far in the distance.

  Suddenly the sound turned into a tearing shriek, and lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the nearly-black horizon. The skies opened up and heavy droplets of rain splattered their heads. She grabbed for Mittens, but the cat bolted, its claws raking her skin as it leapt from her arms.

  “Ouch!” Emma yelled. She tried to pick the cat up again, but it arched its back and hissed. Another flash—followed immediately by a deafening gong of thunder—startled the creature and it ran, disappearing into the tall grass. Emma glanced at her grandmother. The picnic basket still sat on the blanket, but the kindly old lady was gone.

  Emma jumped to her feet, whirling around. The field remained—and the tree she’d climbed as a girl—but the house that’d held so many of her happy memories was gone. The field extended into the distance until it met the trees, but not even an impression in the grass showed where, only moments before, an entire house had stood.

  Her gaze strayed to the woolen blanket and the one empty teacup remaining. Something about it chilled her and she shivered, spinning again. Fear raked her insides. Something was wrong—very wrong. The scratch on her arm throbbed. As she examined it, she noticed the mist licking at her feet. The ice fog crept in, swallowing everything in its path. It reached her ankles now, climbing higher and higher up her body. The cold burned like fire on her wound and she wrapped her arms around herself.

  In the distance, thunder rumbled again, except this time Emma realized it wasn’t thunder at all, but the pounding of giant feet. She strained to see into the fog, her throat tight. Exploding through the mist charged a herd of mammoths, their tusks dripping blood, their ebony eyes dead. Emma tried to bolt but the fog slithered around her shoulders, holding her in an iron grip. The mammoths raised their trunks, trumpeting in rage as they drew near. Emma’s ears rang as she braced for the terrible collision, but the beasts suddenly swirled into a freezing wall of haze, washing over her, sealing her in a sheet of ice, consuming her.

  40

  Amarok watched the owl swoop down from the treetops, settling in a thick patch of snow at the foot of the mountain. It beat its wings and gave a soft hoot. Amarok rushed to the bird, spotting Emma’s backpack. The owl pulled at the zipper with its black beak.

  A chill of dread sank into Amarok’s chest like an arrow. He dropped to his knees, unzipped the pack, and spotted a dozen totems jumbled at the bottom. Amarok searched until he found one with an owl and draped it around his uncle’s neck. He jumped back as the bird sprang into the air, its big wings slashing toward the cabin, where it swung a hard left and dove inside through one of the broken windows. Amarok waited and watched, holding his breath with anticipation. He’d need Jock’s help in dealing with the shaman. There had to be a way to destroy him, but how could he kill someone or something that had survived since the ice age—a creature filled with so much rage and hate it had escaped death for centuries?

  Amarok watched the cabin desperately, waiting for what seemed an eternity before the back door swung open, banging in the wind. Amarok’s eyes went wide as his breath hitched in his throat. Was it all just a crazy dream? In one swift movement, out stepped the man he’d known so well. His uncle wore a red-checkered woolen shirt, wool pants and mukluks. He lumbered closer, trying to hurry but unsteady on his feet. Amarok charged forward, almost knocking him over, hugging his uncle hard. The big man patted him on the back, and then abruptly pushed him away.

  He pinned Amarok with hard eyes. “We don’t have much time. He’s got the girl. I took the totems from her as Milak dragged her into his lair. I knew the only thing I could do to help her was to try to save you, so you’d be able to come back and rescue her. Now come on, we have to hurry.”

  They started up the narrow steps leading to the cave and Amarok paused. “After all this time, how did you get free?”

  Jock glanced back at him. “I found my totem—the one that freed me—long ago,” he said. “But I needed the second one to return to human form. I flew free for decades, but was never crafty enough to find its mate. His magic was much too strong, and I didn’t dare come too close for fear he’d ensnare me again, force me to scout for new victims.”

  They climbed to the ledge, and Jock helped him up. The big man eyed the cave entrance and frowned. “Over time, I hid clothes and supplies I found in your folks’ cabin, knowing I would need them someday, never giving up hope. I stuffed them into the burners of your mother’s cook-stove, hoping to keep them safe from rodents, and I stored other things as well. I’d almost given up hope, until I watched Suka attack Weasel Tail.”

  “Do you think now that Weasel Tail is dead, the shaman’s powers are weak enough we could defeat him?”

  Jock rubbed his square jaw, keeping his eyes fixed on the gloomy entrance. “I don’t know, but I think I might know another way.” The big man stretched his arms as if his back pained him. “Over the years, I’ve followed him, searching for my second totem. I never ventured very far into this cave, because if he ever caught me, I’d never be free again. Being a bird had its advantages. I was swifter than most and could hide easily. I noticed that on all the occasions he ventured inside, he never, ever, entered the one tunnel closest to this entrance. From the way he acted, I think there’s something in there he’s afraid of.”

  Amarok took a bold step forward. “Good. Now he has even more to fear.” He took another step, spotting Emma’s flashlight where it had rolled into a crack in the face of the rock. He pried it from its resting spot, and it emitted a weak beam in the afternoon light. Amarok pointed it at the gaping entrance and ducked inside.

  Jock grabbed his shoulder. “Give me the light and I’ll lead the way. Be careful of sinkholes and traps. Stay at my hip and don’t stray. One wrong step, and it might be the death of you.”

  Amarok nodded and handed Jock the flashlight as they cautiously pressed deeper into the cave. The scent of musk and rancid meat crawled up Amarok’s nostrils—the same moldy stench he’d smelled in Milak’s hut—a rotting decay penetrating every corner of the cave. A scent he’d never forget. They took an immediate left around a giant sinkhole the size of a small ship and entered a long, skinny tunnel. Bats clung to the ceiling, squeaking in the darkness. Jock put a finger to his lips. “We have to be as quiet as we can. Understand? He can hear every movement we make.” Jock pointed up with the flashlight. “And don’t disturb the bats; the vile things might be his spies.”

  They crept farther into the tunnel, crouching to maneuver through its tight corners, until they came to an abrupt dead end. Jock frowned and waved the light around the small chamber. “There has to be a reason he fears this place.” He swept the light across the walls to a pile of clear stones. “You know what those are, son?”

  Amarok shook his head. “Crystals?”

  “Quartz crystals, to be exact, the clear kind that comes in clusters. Quick, gather as many as you can and stuff your pockets full.”

  “What do you think it will do to him? Can it destroy him?”

  Jock set his jaw. “I sure hope so. I’ve heard stories of the power of crystals from superstitious old sea dogs. The way he never ventured, not ev
en an inch, into this tunnel tells me it’s very powerful stuff, indeed. Light always destroys darkness. Just what we need to free the girl.”

  Amarok’s heart jumped. “Thank you, Uncle. It’s so good to have you here with me. I thought I had no one left.”

  Jock patted him on the shoulder. “I never left your side for long. It was hard not being able to help you, to watch so helplessly.” He laid a heavy hand on Amarok’s shoulder. “You never really know who’s looking out for you. Just because you can’t always see them with your eyes, doesn’t mean they’re not there. I believe your father still watches over both of us.” He cleared his throat, voice heavy with emotion. “Now,” he whispered. “Start picking up those rocks.”

  They stuffed their pockets full and hurried from the tunnel into the main entrance. Jock cocked his head and listened. “Wait—I hear something.”

  A terrible chant slithered from the darkness to Amarok’s ears. A sound so innately evil, so intolerable, it could not have come from mortal lips. Amarok froze. A ripple of fear shackled his feet to the floor. He recognized the loathsome voice of the shaman, the horrible churning sound of his forked tongue as it clucked against his liver-spotted lips.

  “This way!” Jock hissed, waving the flashlight.

  Amarok hurried behind his uncle, struggling to keep up, breath sawing in and out, sore body complaining with every step. The chanting grew louder, grating against his nerves, chilling his heart. They worked their way through pools of water and pointed flowstone to yet another winding tunnel, following the dreadful sounds to an enormous cavern. Torchlight flickered, and long, skinny shadows licked the limestone walls. An eerie ice fog clung to every surface, growing denser, colder the farther they crept into the icy room. Amarok shivered, goose bumps broke out across his skin. Frost coated his eyelashes and he blinked to keep them from freezing shut.

  Jock held the flashlight high, waving the beam into the darkness. “Look!” He pointed to a massive stone altar. Intricate spirals, arrows, and woolly mammoths ornamented the sides. In the center, Emma lay as if dead. Her lips, a whitewashed pink, curled into a forced smile. Her hair fanned out behind her, the rich red of it in stark contrast to the bluish hue of her skin.

  Amarok jolted forward and Jock snatched his arm.

  “No, wait!”

  Amarok pulled away, impatient to get to Emma. “Why?”

  “It’s all too easy,” Jock whispered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way he just let you waltz across his land, go into his hut, and enter his lair without putting up a single fight.” Jock’s eyes narrowed. “He’s up to something.”

  “Maybe he’s weak?”

  “Yes, but he’s not stupid, boy.”

  Amarok nodded. He knew how crafty the shaman was. He grabbed a torch from the wall and raised it above his head to get a better look at the altar where Emma lay. Long, jagged icicles hung from the ends like the satin lining in a coffin.

  “I’ll go first. Stay behind me,” Jock said. “If something happens to me, I want you to get out of here.”

  “No—I won’t leave you, uncle.”

  “You might have to. No sense in both of us dying.”

  They worked their way closer. As they came to the side of the stone, Amarok reached to touch Emma, but suddenly the icicles twisted into vipers, striking at his arm. Jock pulled him back. The reptiles dropped from the stone and slithered across the floor at a frightening speed. Their icy hissing echoed strangely in the cavern. Amarok waved the torch at them and they hesitated, drawing back—but only a fraction—before resuming their pursuit. They undulated to his feet, hissing and spitting. He threw the torch to the ground and the ice snakes withered away in the flames.

  Amarok rushed to Emma’s side. He pulled her into his arms, cradling her body against him. She was so cold, as if he held a block of ice, the chill penetrating into his arms even through his heavy parka.

  “Watch out!” Jock yelled.

  Amarok caught a glimpse of a figure moving in the fog.

  Jock stepped forward, pulling a large crystal from his pocket, aiming it at the dark presence. “Stay back!” Jock warned. He pointed the tip of the stone against the flashlight beam, angling it so the thin shaft of light fractured into a million rays of brilliance. It sent bright color cutting through the fog, seeking out the shadowy figure like diamond spears in the darkness.

  The shaman materialized, translucent, staying within the shadows, floating across the stone floor. The darkness didn’t hide his leathery, petrified skin and sloping forehead. His eyes, red as the flames of hell, glared with the horrible cunning that Amarok remembered so well.

  A paralyzing surge of fear pierced Amarok’s heart like a blade. The old man’s eyes glittered in triumph.

  Jock pulled back his hand to hurl the crystal at him, but an arrow hissed from the fog, zipping through the air to sink deep in between Jock’s ribs. The big man fell with a groan, leaning painfully on one elbow, pulling the arrow from his side.

  “No!” Amarok screamed. He ran to his uncle’s side, laying Emma at his feet and pressing his hand over his uncle’s gaping wound. Blood gushed between his fingers.

  “I’m okay! Use the crystals,” Jock gasped. “Throw them!”

  Amarok shoved his hands into his pockets and flung three large crystals into the ice fog. The gems absorbed the almost invisible light, magnifying it. The cavern brightened with their brilliant sparks. A terrible shriek boomed off the walls, shaking the floor. Wind came in a fierce burst, sending bits of shale and sand swirling like shrapnel. It grew stronger, fueled with raw fury, but the shaman didn’t appear.

  Jock rested against the cave wall, clutching his side. “The crystals keep him trapped!” He struggled to his feet. “It may not last for long.”

  Amarok scooped Emma up again. “We can seal the entrance to this cave, if we hurry. It won’t destroy him, but I bet he won’t be able to leave as long as the crystals block the opening!”

  “Good plan, boy!”

  They ran from the cave, dropping a trail of crystals behind them. Jock clasped his side as he stumbled forward, barely keeping up. “Hurry,” he said. “Get out of here, and I’ll put the rest of the crystals around the entrance.”

  Amarok maneuvered down the steps, trying not to bounce Emma too badly. He cradled her to his chest and negotiated the rocky staircase. Watching from the ground, he waited nervously while Jock clambered down the last step.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Uncle?”

  Jock nodded. “It’ll take more than an evil phantom to put an end to Jock! If I die, it’ll be at the hands of a jealous husband.” He glanced over his shoulder, cradling his side. “We need to keep moving.”

  They hurried across the open expanse of land, heading toward the moonlit river. Amarok chanced a glance over his shoulder. A glowing mist appeared at the mouth of the cave. The red eyes of the shaman materialized, twin orbs of hatred. His whole outline seemed to glow in the circle of crystals. In one swift movement, a dark mass of angry beasts burst from his leathery chest.

  Wolves.

  “He’s sending dark spirits after us!” Amarok yelled.

  Jock wheeled. “Hurry! We have to get some distance between us.”

  The spirit wolves swirled over the rock face and dropped in a black cloud to the forest floor.

  “Head for the cabin!” Amarok yelled.

  A stitch jabbed his side, and the muscles in his legs screamed. Even so, he kept running, with Emma in the safety of his arms.

  A blood-chilling howl filled the night air behind them. Amarok risked another glance and what he saw froze him clean through. The wolves were gaining on them with terrifying speed, surging over the ground, their crimson eyes wide with bloodlust. From all around came more heart-stopping howls as they called to one another, spreading out, forming a deadly posse.

  The wolves swirled around them in the mist. They slowed as they formed a tight circle, herding the three humans in, their saliva-dripping
fangs inches from their heels. Two of the ravenous beasts set their blood-colored eyes on Emma, and Amarok vowed to visit Judas in hell before he’d let the wolves have her. They crept closer, carefully. Amarok stared at their lolling red tongues, giant limbs, and razor-like teeth. He knew firsthand what those terrible daggers were capable of.

  Jock stepped in front of him, holding out his arms. With a sudden burst, one of the great beasts crashed into Jock with a breath-robbing impact. He kicked it, hard, in the belly. The wolf yelped, and the others turned on Amarok.

  A gunshot cracked overhead and Ben emerged from the brush. The wolves whirled and turned on him. He raised the gun to his shoulder and shot the leader dead center in the head. The creature dissolved on impact and the others evaporated to a black cloud of dust.

  “Thank God! You saved us.” Amarok sank to his knees with Emma.

  Ben shrugged. “Never did feel right about chickening out the first time, leaving the girl to begin with. When I heard the commotion from the riverbank, I knew I had to do something.”

  They hurried through the thick brush to the boat. Amarok’s wounds pained him, and his muscles were still so weak, he didn’t know how much longer he could carry Emma. In the fray, he hadn’t realized how badly his body ached, how tired he was. None of that had mattered, because his only thoughts at the time were of saving her, protecting her. Loving her.

  Ben cranked the throttle wide open and they sped across the water. The boat slapped up and down in the choppy current and Amarok wondered if the shaman had something to do with the churning waters.

  Amarok sat with Emma, still so lifeless and cold in his arms, while Jock tended to the wound in his side with Ben’s first aid kit. Amarok gazed into Emma’s ashen face. She appeared even paler in the moonlight. He could feel her faint pulse, but somehow Milak’s spell contained enough power to keep her unconscious. Amarok cradled her to his chest, willing all his heat and life spirit to enter into her body, brushing his lips to her cold forehead.