Chronicles of Ancient Darkness

by Michelle Paver

  Already his fur seemed sleeker, and his nose had lost that dull, hot look. At the end of his tail – now a thumblength shorter than before – the wound smelt clean and fresh. To her surprise, Wolf had let her dress it with a salve of elder and meadowsweet in chewed blubber. He’d even let her bind it in wovenbark, which he’d made only a half-hearted attempt to eat.

  It was Torak who couldn’t watch; who seemed unable to bear the sight of the wound, as if he felt the pain more than Wolf himself.

  ‘He really is getting better,’ said Renn, to reassure him. ‘I think wolves heal faster than we do. Do you remember last autumn in the Moon of Roaring Stags, when he went after blackberries and tore his ear? Three days later, there wasn’t even a scab.’

  ‘I’d forgotten that.’ He forced a smile. ‘And your salve is helping, too.’

  ‘He’s getting stronger all the time,’ she said, drawing her medicine pouch shut. ‘I think we should –’

  A bat fluttered overhead, and of one accord they paused to listen.

  Nothing.

  Three times during the day – this strange underground day that felt more like night – Torak had made his way back to the forest of stone, and stolen a freshly dipped torch, and checked that the Soul-Eaters were still sleeping off their trance. But they couldn’t count on that for much longer.

  ‘We should get him out of this pit,’ said Renn. ‘We can make a sling of our belts, and haul him out. If he’ll let us.’

  ‘He’ll let us. You said Thiazzi’s blocked the cave mouth?’

  ‘Yes. We might be able to shift it.’

  ‘We’ll have to. It’s the only way out.’

  ‘No it isn’t.’ Reluctantly, she told him about the weasel hole.

  Normally he would have wanted to know everything about it, including why she hadn’t told him sooner; but instead he seemed distracted. She wondered if he was worrying about the same thing that had begun to trouble her.

  She watched him nuzzle Wolf’s scruff. Wolf flicked one ear, and they exchanged one of those speaking glances that used to make her feel left out; but she didn’t mind any more, she was just glad that Torak had his pack-brother back.

  ‘The blood of the nine hunters,’ he said suddenly. ‘It’s to protect them from the demons, isn’t it, when they open the Door?’

  She nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking about that, too. Even for the Soul-Eaters, it’s going to be incredibly hard to keep the Door open for more than a few heartbeats. But that’ll be enough.’

  They pictured demons spreading like a black flood over the snow. Across the ice. Towards the Forest.

  ‘And the fire-opal,’ said Torak, ‘it will give them control once the demons are out.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He passed his hand over Wolf’s flank, and Wolf stirred his tail in acknowlegement, taking care not to thump it.

  ‘How can it be destroyed?’ said Torak. ‘Hammered? Thrown into the Sea?’

  Her fingers tightened on her medicine pouch. ‘Nothing so simple. You can only rob it of its power by burying it under earth or stone. And –,’ she hesitated. ‘It needs a life. A life buried with it. Otherwise it won’t be appeased.’

  Torak rested his chin on his knees and frowned. ‘When I put the Death Marks on my father,’ he said, surprising her, ‘I didn’t do it very well. Especially not here, for the clan-soul.’ He touched his breastbone. ‘He had a scar, where he’d cut out the Soul-Eater tattoo.’

  Renn swallowed.

  ‘I couldn’t go back and make things right for him,’ he went on. ‘Gather his bones, lay them to rest in the Wolf Clan bone-ground – wherever that is – because ever since then, in one way or another, I’ve been fighting the Soul-Eaters.’ He paused. ‘I left him because he told me to. Because he knew it was my destiny to fight the Soul-Eaters. I don’t think I can turn my back on that destiny now.’

  Renn didn’t reply. This was what she’d feared.

  She wished desperately that they could find their way out of these horrible caves, retrieve their skinboat, and get back to the White Foxes. Then Inuktiluk could take them on his dog sled to the Forest, and they would be with Fin-Kedinn again, and it would be over. But she knew this wasn’t going to happen.

  Torak raised his head, and his grey eyes were steady. ‘This isn’t about rescuing Wolf any more. I can’t just run off and leave them to open the Door.’

  ‘I know,’ said Renn.

  ‘Do you?’ His face was open and vulnerable. ‘Because I can’t do this on my own. And I can’t ask you to help. You’ve already done so much.’

  That annoyed her. ‘I know what we’ve got to do just as well as you do! We’ve got to make sure that Wolf is free, and then,’ she caught her breath, ‘then we’ve got to stop them opening the Door.’

  TWENTY-NINE

  After something of a struggle, they managed to haul

  Wolf out of the pit, and headed off. Their way led through the tunnel of the offerings, where they were relieved to find no sign of the Soul-Eaters, although they’d been there recently. The hole which had held the lynx was empty.

  Torak was wondering what this meant when Wolf gave a low, urgent ‘uff’!

  ‘Hide!’ he whispered – but Renn knew enough wolf talk to recognize the warning, and was already scrambling into the lynx’s hollow. Torak pushed the slab across it, and an instant later, Nef’s bat flitted past his face.

  ‘Boy?’ called Nef from the end of the tunnel. ‘Where are you?’

  Torak glanced behind him at Wolf, whose amber eyes glowed in the torchlight. If Nef saw him . . .

  As the Bat Mage limped towards them, Wolf turned and melted into the dark. Torak breathed out in relief. He shouldn’t have doubted Wolf. If he didn’t want to be seen, it didn’t happen.

  ‘I’m here,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.

  ‘Where have you been?’ snapped Nef.

  Rubbing his face, he tried to look bleary. ‘I was asleep. That root . . . my head hurts.’

  ‘Of course it hurts! You’ve got to be strong to be a Soul-Eater!’

  To Torak’s alarm, she stopped right outside Renn’s hiding-place, and leaned her hand on the rock.

  He edged away, in the hope that she would follow.

  She didn’t. Propping her torch against the wall, she squatted on her haunches. ‘Strong,’ she repeated, as if to herself, ‘you’ve got to be strong.’ She opened her hands and stared at them. They were dark with blood.

  ‘The lynx,’ said Torak. ‘You’ve killed it. The sacrifice has begun.’

  As Nef held her tainted hands before her, her fists clenched. ‘It has to be done! The few must suffer for the good of the many!’

  Torak licked his lips. He had to get rid of the Bat Mage before she discovered Renn. And yet . . .

  ‘You don’t have to do this,’ he said.

  Nef’s head jerked up.

  ‘The sacrifice. The Door.’

  ‘What?’ snarled the Bat Mage.

  ‘These are demons!’

  ‘That’s the beauty of it! Demons don’t know right from wrong! We can bend them to our will! Don’t you see? This is our chance to make things right! To enforce the way of the World Spirit!’

  ‘By breaking clan law?’

  Nef stared at him. Suddenly she lurched to her feet, snatched the torch, and brought it close to his face: so close that he heard the sputtering hiss of pine-pitch. ‘You were a coward,’ she said, ‘grovelling, whining – but not any more. Why did you hide your true nature?’

  Torak did not reply.

  She lowered the torch. ‘Ah, but what does it matter now?’

  A patch of darkness cut across the light, and dropped onto her shoulder. As Torak watched her stroke the soft bat fur, he wondered how she could caress her clan-creature, and yet stain her spirit with sin.

  ‘The Opening of the Door is nearly upon us,’ said Nef. ‘You have work to do. Bring the offerings to the forest of stone.’

  He stared at her. ‘You mean –’


  ‘We’re going to kill them. We’re going to kill them all!’

  He swallowed. ‘Where – where are you going?’

  ‘Me?’ barked Nef. ‘I’m going to take care of the wolf.’

  ‘What were you thinking?’ whispered Renn after the Bat Mage had gone. ‘Arguing with a Soul-Eater? With me right there, waiting to be discovered?’

  ‘I thought I might be able to change her mind,’ said Torak.

  ‘Torak, she’s a Soul-Eater!’

  She was right; but he didn’t want to admit it.

  ‘Come on,’ he said brusquely. ‘When she finds Wolf gone, she’ll raise the alarm. We’ve got to free the offerings and get out of here!’

  Swiftly, straining their ears for footsteps, they worked their way down the tunnel, heaving rocks aside and setting the captives free. The fox and the otter fled the moment there was a gap big enough to wriggle through. The eagle gave them an outraged glare, hitched its bedraggled wings, and swept off into the dark. The wolverine was a spitting bundle of rage, and would have attacked them both if Wolf hadn’t emerged from the shadows and seen it off.

  ‘Phew!’ panted Renn. ‘That’s gratitude!’

  ‘Do you think they’ll find their way out?’ said Torak.

  She nodded. ‘That gap between the slab and the cave mouth. They’ll get through.’

  ‘And Wolf?’

  ‘It’s big enough for him. But not for us. And I don’t think we should count on being able to shift that slab.’

  ‘You mean – we’ll have to use the weasel hole.’

  The blood drained from her face. ‘If we get the chance.’

  They fell silent. They hadn’t been able to come up with a plan for stopping the Soul-Eaters, other than making their way to the forest of stone, and doing – something.

  Wolf’s claws clicked as he trotted to the end of the tunnel, then abruptly stopped. He stared into the pit of the ice bear.

  With a sense of foreboding, Torak went to investigate. What he saw made his knees give. ‘We’ll have a better chance than these two,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Renn.

  He moved aside to let her see.

  The Soul-Eaters had slaughtered the ice bear and skinned it, leaving the reeking, steaming carcass in the pit. They’d done the same to the lynx, then tossed its corpse onto the bear’s.

  Renn sagged against the cave wall. ‘How could they? They’ve just left them to rot.’

  This is evil, thought Torak. This is what evil looks like. In death the ice bear seemed pathetically smaller. Torak’s heart twisted with pity. ‘May your souls find their way back to the ice,’ he murmured. ‘May they be at peace.’

  ‘Torak . . .’ Renn’s voice seemed to come to him from a distance. ‘It’s time. We’ve got to go. We’ve got to stop them opening the Door!’

  In the forest of stone, the rite of the Opening had already begun.

  As Torak crouched in the shadows at the mouth of the cavern, his spirit faltered. Wolf trembled against him. Renn stood rigid.

  The stone trees were spattered with scarlet. Acrid black smoke snaked from the altar, where the Soul-Eaters had made an offering of their hair. The Oak Mage and the Viper Mage prowled the shadows, jabbing at the dark with three-pronged forks, fending off the vengeful souls of the murdered hunters. Both were unrecognizable in their dead-eyed masks, their painted lips flecked with black foam. Both were stripped to the waist, clad only in a slimy, glistening hide.

  The Viper Mage wore the lynx pelt: its gaping head set upon her own, its sleek hide rippling down her back as she brandished the Walker’s strike-fire.

  The Oak Mage had become the ice bear. With his hands thrust inside the forepaws, he wove between the stone saplings, hissing, slicing the air with his claws.

  Only the Eagle Owl Mage was unchanged. Rooted to the stone, she faced the wall where the red handprints marked the Door. Her corpse hands covered the mace on which the fire-opal was set.

  With a supreme effort, Torak shook himself free of the spell. Whatever they did, they had to act fast. Any moment now, and Nef would raise the alarm.

  ‘The torches,’ he breathed in Renn’s ear. ‘I can’t see more than three. If we can put them out, then maybe . . .’

  Renn didn’t stir. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the Soul-Eaters.

  ‘Renn!’ He shook her shoulder. ‘The torches! We’ve got to do something!’

  She dragged her gaze away. ‘Here,’ she whispered. ‘Take my knife. I’ll keep my axe.’

  He nodded. ‘The weasel hole. Where is it?’

  ‘There, behind that greenish sapling. There’s a big crack, you’ve got to climb up –’

  ‘All right. We should be able to reach it, when the time comes.’

  Suddenly he knelt, and pressed his face against Wolf’s muzzle. Wolf gave a faint wag of his tail, and licked his ear.

  ‘He’ll find the other way out,’ breathed Torak as he straightened up. ‘He’s got a better chance than we have.’

  ‘And before then?’ said Renn. ‘How do we stop them?’

  Torak stared at the circling, hissing Soul-Eaters. ‘You see if you can douse the torches, while I keep them talking –’

  ‘While you what?’

  Before she could stop him, he’d risen to his feet, and stepped out into the light.

  With startling speed the lynx and the ice bear spun round, and stared at him with dead gutskin eyes.

  ‘The ninth hunter is come,’ said the Oak Mage in a voice as deep as a bear’s.

  ‘But his hands are empty,’ hissed the Viper Mage. ‘He was to have brought the eagle, the wolverine, the otter, the fox.’

  The talons of the Eagle Owl Mage tightened around the head of the mace. ‘Why has it failed?’

  Torak opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came. What was Renn doing? Why were the torches still burning?

  Desperately, he sought for some way of grabbing the fire-opal, and stopping them from opening the Door – of achieving the impossible.

  A shout rang through the cavern – and Nef hobbled in. ‘The wolf is gone!’ she shouted. ‘It’s the boy, I know it is! He set the wolf free! He set them all free!’

  Three masked heads turned towards Torak.

  ‘Free?’ said the Viper Mage with appalling gentleness.

  Torak edged backwards.

  The Bat Mage blocked his way.

  The Oak Mage wiped the black froth from his painted lips and said, ‘“The Wolf lives.” That was the message from our brother across the Sea. What did it mean, we asked ourselves.’

  ‘Then a boy came,’ said the Viper Mage. ‘A boy who wore the tattoos of the White Foxes, but didn’t look like one. I felt souls in the air around me. What does this mean, I asked myself.’

  Torak’s hand tightened on his knife. And still the torches burned, and still the Soul-Eaters bore down on him.

  ‘Who are you?’ said the Oak Mage.

  ‘What are you?’ said the Viper Mage.

  THIRTY

  Tall Tailless was surrounded. Bravely he faced them, clutching the big claw; but against three full-grown taillesses, he didn’t stand a chance.

  Wolf lowered his head and crept forwards. The bad ones didn’t hear him. They didn’t know he was there.

  Swivelling one ear, he heard the stealthy padding of the female, a few pounces away. A sizzling hiss, and that part of the Den went dark. Good. She was helping him. Wolf could see in the dark, but the bad ones couldn’t.

  Tall Tailless said something defiant in tailless talk, and the pale-pelt who stank of bear gave a cruel laugh. Then another part of the Den went dark. And another.

  Suddenly, Stinkfur and Pale-Pelt leapt at Tall Tailless. He didn’t dodge quickly enough – it didn’t matter – Wolf was quicker than any of them. With a snarl he sprang at Pale-Pelt, knocking him to the ground and sinking his teeth into a forepaw. Pale-Pelt roared. Bones crunched. Wolf leapt away, gulping bloody flesh.

  As he ran, his cl
aws skittered on stone and he nearly went down, wobbling as he righted himself, because his newly shortened tail didn’t give quite the balance it had before. He’d have to be careful, he thought as he raced through the dark to help his poor, blind pack-brother, who was still trying to get away from Stinkfur.

  Not far off, the pack-sister held a glowing branch in one paw, narrowing her eyes as taillesses do when they cannot see.

  Meanwhile, the Viper-Tongue had not been idle. She’d found her way through the silent trees, and past the Stone-Faced One to the end of the Den, where she was scraping a claw over the rock, hissing and whining in a way that made Wolf’s pelt shrink with dread. He heard the clamour of demons. He didn’t know what she meant to do, but he knew that he had to stop her.

  And yet – Tall Tailless needed him! In his blindness, he was blundering towards Stinkfur!

  Wolf faltered.

  He decided in a snap – and leapt to the aid of his pack-brother, body-slamming him out of the path of the bad one. Tall Tailless slipped – steadied himself – and grabbed his pack-brother’s scruff. Wolf led him to safety through the trees.

  But it was too late to stop Viper-Tongue. Her whines rose to a hide-prickling scream as she spread her forepaws wide – and suddenly in the rock, a great mouth gaped.

  Stone-Face gave a triumphant howl that pierced Wolf’s ears like splintered bone. Then she lifted her forepaw high. The Den filled with the hard grey glare of the Bright Beast-that-Bites-Cold – and the demons poured forth.

  Tall Tailless let go of Wolf’s scruff and fell to his knees.

  The pack-sister dropped the glowing branch and covered her ears with her forepaws. Wolf shrank trembling against Tall Tailless, as the terror of the demons blasted his fur.

  He knew he had to attack them – it was what he was meant to do – but there were so many! Slithering, swooping, scrabbling over each other in their hunger for the cold grey light. Wolf saw their dripping fangs and their cruel, bright eyes. There were so many . . .

  But suddenly, he smelt rage.

  The female tailless had shaken off her fear, and was snarling with rage!

  In amazement Wolf watched her snatch up the still-glowing branch, and hurl it at Viper-Tongue. It struck her full in the back – when she threw something, the female rarely missed – and Viper-Tongue howled with fury. Her forepaws lifted away from the rock, and the gaping Mouth crashed shut.