Wolfskin

by Juliet Marillier

  “That’s a chill that’s right inside,” Rona observed. “The spirit’s frozen; no wonder he can’t stop shaking, for all the fire and the dogs and the nice warm cloak that should be on your own shoulders, not his. There’s a kind of curse on him, a darkness. He’ll never get warm until that’s lifted. I don’t like it, and I don’t like him, child. If you’re not careful, this one will take and take until there’s nothing left of you to give.”

  Nessa only shook her head. Maybe right now this young warrior seemed weak and hopeless, a wreck of a man unable to help himself. But she had seen him before. She had seen and recognized what he was. The ancestors knew him. The dogs had guarded him. It was just a matter of waiting, and taking one step at a time.

  He talked to himself sometimes.

  “Cursed islands,” Nessa heard him muttering one day as she watched him pretending to eat the soup she had prepared. The dogs were growing fatter, sleek and content, but he was like a pale shadow warrior. “Godforsaken place. There’s nothing but loss here, death and loss.”

  Nessa put a little more turf on the fire. Outside, the wind scoured the land, whipping sand into a stinging curtain, driving salt spray far into the dunes, so that everything was damp and clammy. Rona had stayed in the cottage. Nessa knew the old woman’s joints ached on days like this, though Rona never said so.

  “I hate this,” the young man whispered, giving up altogether and putting the soup bowl on the earthen floor, where the bitch soon licked it clean. “I hate this place. These islands set frost in the bones and winter in the heart.”

  Nessa stared at him. “Oh, no,” she said softly. “You see from your own pain, and so you do not see truly. The Light Isles are a place of wonder, Eyvi. You need only open your eyes. And you can do it, I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you watching the sea and the sky. That’s how I know…” She was not sure how to finish this.

  “Know what?”

  “Know that you have a part to play here. Know that somehow you belong here. If not for that, I would have done Rona’s bidding and turned you over to King Engus. Believe me, I do not make a habit of sheltering enemy warriors in this place sacred to the women’s mysteries. I did so because I recognize something in you that you have forgotten, or have not yet seen.”

  “You say I belong here.” He would not look at her, but she could see the shadow of disbelief in his eyes. “That is not true. This place has destroyed me.”

  “You want to go home, then? Back across the ocean? Would that make all well for you?”

  He was silent a while; it seemed the effort of maintaining a conversation had exhausted him. “When the wolf becomes too weak to hunt, when he can neither lead nor follow, it is the end for him,” he said eventually. “I belong nowhere.”

  “You could become strong again,” Nessa ventured, “if you would eat. This dog came here as weak and damaged as yourself. She’s growing well now, see her bright eyes? You could help yourself, Eyvi.”

  “Grow strong to what purpose? There is no purpose. Grow strong to face my enemy and hear only Thor’s silence? Grow well to find I can no longer do what my whole life has prepared me for? I should not have sheltered here. I should have had the courage to end it. Thor did not want me to come to these islands; he punishes me with a shame that is lifelong.”

  Nessa hated the flat, hopeless tone of his voice. “You’re making me angry, Eyvi,” she said sternly.

  Now he looked at her. “Angry? Why?”

  “Because it is such a waste. Unlike the wolf, a man can tread another path. Unlike that wild creature, a man can listen for other calls, can make a choice about his future. I, too, wish winter was over. The time of darkness stretches out; it sets a shadow on every spirit, even the gladdest and most innocent. But we need it. We need it to rest, and reflect, and become open to the mysteries. Waking cannot exist without sleeping.”

  He seemed to be listening; his eyes were fixed on her face now. He said nothing.

  “If it were spring, I would take you up to the high cliffs south of this bay,” Nessa said, seeing it as she spoke. “There is a little hollow, a grassy cup just below the clifftop where you can sit and look out far over the western sea, so far it seems you might see the edge of the world itself. The sun warms that small, safe place; the earth holds you in a hand more ancient than the oldest stories of the first ancestors. And yet, sitting there is like being poised on the brink of something new: a fresh beginning, clear and strong as the wind from the sea. There are so many birds there, Eyvi, all kinds, wheeling and gliding, coming in and out with fish for the small ones on the ledges. It is an endless dance of wind and feather, balance and brightness. Their cries make a music, a wild song that sounds above the endless roar of the sea, borne on the breath of the west wind. If you were well, and it were spring, I would take you there. To sit there in stillness, to let it unfold around you, is to know the wonder of this place.”

  He was silent; his fingers moved to stroke the dog’s gray hair behind the ears. Watching Nessa, his eyes were bleak and empty.

  “Summer days are long in the Light Isles,” she went on. “The best time then is early in the morning, when the sea shows a thousand colors, pearl, dove gray, silver, duck-egg green, sweet soft blue. At such a time, it is easy to hear the voices of the ancestors, whispering words of peace, words of belonging. I walk on the shore at those times, but slowly, because there are so many treasures to find: so many wonders to capture the eye. Each little stone is different, its shape and color all its own; each one is lovely and mysterious. Some have patterns, pale lines in a strange tracery like old, old writing in some language lost from memory. Sometimes I sit and hold one in my hand, and wonder if the message flows into me somehow, making me wise in the ways of the earth. The weed washes in and drapes those stones in a feathery cloak; the sand clings to them, and makes small hills and valleys around their curves. There is so much to discover there: tangled fronds of kelp like a puzzle; delicate, secret shells; tiny crabs like bright jewels; shy, creeping plants; long-legged foraging birds whose feet make their own neat script in the sand. So much to see, if only your eyes are open. When the sun is setting, in springtime, the wet beach shines like fire, and the sky glows with an enchantment of colors. These things are part of us, Eyvi; they are our life, and we are theirs. Because of that, we do not give up hope, even in times of terrible darkness. That’s why I wish things were different now, so I could walk that way with you, and show you.”

  “In a life such as mine there is no place for these things,” he said. The dog had laid her head on his lap, and his hand still moved, gently stroking her coat. “It is a different world.”

  “No, Eyvi,” Nessa said. “This is the same world. It is you who are different. Not weak, not useless, not lost: just changed. Perhaps you did not want to come to these islands, but you have come, and the islands have changed you. They have claimed you. Do not curse them for that. The ancestors need you here. They want you here. We need only discover why, I think.”

  “I am no part of this,” he said in a whisper. Nessa made no reply. The signs had made it clear to her that he must stay, but she could not show him the signs; that was forbidden. How could she show him? He could not summon the strength so much as to crawl forth from his hiding place, and a warrior does not see with the eye of the spirit. How could she reach him?

  “You are become a part of it,” she said. “Perhaps we need only wait, and it will become plain to us what we must do.”

  The days passed, many days. He was quite weak, unable to walk, and the trembling continued to plague him, despite his furious efforts to control it. He did not talk much, not now, but simply sat watching Nessa as she went about her tasks. The silence between them was not uncomfortable; if one shared the same dreams, Nessa thought, that made a sort of understanding that did not require words. All the same, she blessed those practice sessions with Tadhg, for she must try to break through the barrier the young man held around him so fiercely. The Ulsterman had taught her well, and the langu
age flowed ever more freely, words coming swiftly to her mind when she needed them.

  “I do know how it feels to be sad, to feel everything is against you,” she told him as she rekindled the small fire one morning. “There was a time not so long ago when I felt like that. I was angry as well. I only had to sit still and open my eyes to the world around me, and the path forward became clear again. I’m sorry it is not springtime, Eyvi. I’m sorry what has happened between your people and mine means I cannot take you to those places I spoke of. I would show you the web of life itself: the wonder that surrounds us, the ancient pattern we are a part of. If you understand that, the mystery and loveliness of it, you can never be quite lost in despair. You just need to open your eyes and look, that’s all. Look beyond the axe and the sword.”

  “The axe and the sword are my world,” he said. “For me, there is nothing beyond.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Nessa set a small pot of water on the fire. “I see more in you than that, I did from the first.”

  He said nothing, only watched her. Fluent as she was in the foreign tongue, still she wondered sometimes if he had understood her. If only she could make him see beyond what he thought were his own failings; if only she could make him see beyond the call to battle. It would take time; she must be patient.

  There came a day when the wind was calmer, and she wondered if she might persuade him to test his legs enough to venture outside. He was still very weak, but she knew he hated others tending to his body’s every need, and if he could at least make his way out to the privy with a little help, he might begin to despise himself less. Rona had the fire lit out in the open; it was the first time this had been possible for many days. Nessa stretched, looking up at the heavy clouds, the low, slanting sunlight trying to break through. It was strange. Within the confines of the tower in the earth, tending to her warrior, she almost forgot there was another world out here. Perhaps some of what Rona had said was right.

  There was a call from down on the shore. “Nessa! Nessa, come out if you’re there!”

  Kinart’s voice. Kinart come to bring food or maybe a message. She’d have to go and talk to him, explain that she must stay here a bit longer. It was just as well he was forbidden to come any closer, just as well she had not managed to coax her Norseman out. Nessa made her way along the path through the dunes and down over the tumbled stones to the little shingly beach. From here, the Whaleback was clearly visible to the north, the breaking waves a white shawl fringing its seaward cliffs. The beach was strewn with weed, thick brown stems, delicate green fronds and a tumble of broken shells. Her cousin stood waiting, spear in hand. He did not seem to have brought any supplies.

  “You can stop shouting, Kinart, I’m here. What is it?”

  “You took your time. You must come home, Nessa. Your mother’s taken a turn for the worse. Father needs you there. And he’s worried; there’s been more trouble on the borders. It’s not safe for you anymore out here on your own.”

  Nessa swallowed. Go home? Not yet, it was much too soon. But Mother sick: Mother dying, perhaps. How could she not go? “I–I have a ritual to perform. It’s important. I must remain here a few more days at least. Tell Uncle Engus I’ll come back in…in, say, four days, five? If the tides are right. What’s happened with Mother?”

  Kinart’s dark brows creased in a frown. “She’s bad,” he said sternly. “Wandering, distressed. She keeps asking where you are. We tell her, but she doesn’t remember. She goes on about losing all her girls, and cries. The women can’t cope with it. You should come back with me today, Nessa. Father told me to fetch you.”

  “Three days,” she said, imagining her mother all alone in some sort of madness, thinking her youngest child lost as well. “Tell Mother I’ll be there in three days. After that, I’ll only visit Rona at low tide, like before. But I can’t come today.”

  “You have to come.” Kinart’s jaw had a very stubborn set to it; he was looking more of a man and more of a warrior every time she saw him. “This is not safe anymore. And you won’t be able to keep coming back here, either. Not until Father has a treaty in place.” He spat onto the pebbly ground. “Not that there’s much chance of that, the savages. They’d rather pillage and slaughter than make deals. Men like this have no respect for your kind, Nessa. To them, you’d be just another young girl for the taking. You must come home to the Whaleback and stay there where we can protect you.”

  “What about Rona?” Nessa’s voice shook with sudden anger. “I’m supposed to leave her here, am I, to tend to the mysteries alone? An old woman?”

  “She could come too, I suppose,” Kinart muttered. He had the grace to be a little embarrassed, at least.

  “Did Uncle Engus tell you to say all that?” she demanded, folding her arms. “Or was some of it your own idea? Uncle Engus knows we must guard this place. He knows the ancestors must be honored. Now listen, I’ve said I’ll come home in three days. You can walk back here and fetch me if you must, if you think I’m not capable of making my way along the shore alone, though I’ve done it most days for the past ten years. But that’s it. Tell Mother I’ll be there. Tell her I love her. I will come back. But I’m not abandoning this place and what belongs here. I have to keep doing this for the sake of the Folk. Without the ancestors, we’ll be defeated, Kinart. Your spears and arrows, your anger and courage, those won’t be enough if there’s outright war.”

  “You’re only a girl,” her cousin said, as she had known he would. “We can’t put you at risk. These people are capable of anything. Two more men were killed last night, stepped off a boat from High Island and into an ambush, cut to pieces. There’s no reason for that save to make trouble. Scum, that’s all these folk are, complete scum. I don’t know what this Somerled is trying to prove.”

  A chill ran through Nessa. For a moment she was somewhere else, and she was playing a game, a game with little men of carven stone, black and green; she reached to move a small warrior from one finely inlaid square to the next, and a hand came out and swept the board clean, a whole army laid waste with a single, confident stroke. She looked up and saw that face again, dark-eyed, calm, clever, entirely without feeling. She did not hear him speak, but knew his thoughts. You can’t win if you don’t understand the rules. Never mind, old friend. No need to trouble your head with this. I can play well enough for the two of us.

  “What is it?” Kinart asked, staring at her. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” Nessa blinked, and there was the sea and the shore again, and the gulls pecking at what the waves had scattered. Her cousin peered at her closely, his expression concerned. “Nothing. I know what he’s trying to prove. This man, Somerled Horse-Master. He’s trying to prove that he’s the best. The king. Highest up the tree. He’s trying to prove that he always wins. Uncle Engus won’t defeat him with an army, not unless the lords of the Caitt arrive in numbers to support him, and why would they do that? It’s the islands themselves that will defeat this chieftain. Deep magic: the ancient knowledge. We cannot afford to neglect the rituals. Tell my uncle that. And tell him, three days.”

  “But—”

  “Tell him, Kinart. Now I have to go. You might have brought a bit of fish or a round of cheese. Rona doesn’t have much here, only what folk leave for her.”

  “Hungry, are you? I might have a little something.” He retreated to a spot farther along the shore, retrieved a bag he had half-hidden there. “Here. I had a feeling you’d refuse to come. Caught you some fish, keep you and Rona going until I get back. Watch out for yourself, now.” He bent to give her a little peck on the cheek, frowning again.

  “Goodbye, Kinart. And thanks. See you in three days.”

  Three days: so short a time. Nessa gave the fish to Rona, and told her.

  “Wonderful,” the wise woman commented dryly. “So I’m left with the big baby, all on my own. If I’d wanted to be a nursemaid I wouldn’t have chosen to follow the path of the spirit all those years ago. The fellow’s hopeless, Ness
a. There’s no fight left in him. He’s like a dead man.”

  But Nessa knew that was wrong. It had to be wrong. The signs did not lie. All he had to do was find his strength again.

  “You think you can cure what ails him?” Rona asked. “Say you do. Say you succeed. Then all you’ll have done is give these people back another fighting man, as if they hadn’t enough already to put our folk to the knife. I can’t understand why the signs lead this way. It feels like treachery. Surely the fellow would be more use as a hostage. Why didn’t you tell Kinart? How am I supposed to do what must be done and tend to him as well?”

  All the time the old woman was grumbling, her hands were occupied with a sharp knife, neatly gutting and scaling the fish for baking on the coals. Gulls appeared around them, gliding, squawking, ready to descend on the spoils. The two dogs came out, sniffing eagerly, tails thrashing in unison. And yes, that sound at the entry to the cairn was the whisper of a man’s bare feet on the earth, the dragging of a man’s cloak as he crept out from the passageway, the rasp of an indrawn breath as he rose cautiously to stand upright, swaying, one hand groping at the rocks for support, the other shielding his eyes from the sun. His face was linen-pale.

  “Couldn’t resist the smell of my cooking,” said Rona with a grimace, throwing the fish scraps to the two hounds. Nessa was already at the young man’s side, offering her shoulder for support, listening carefully for signs of distress, changes of breathing, for if he collapsed out here they would not be able to move him to shelter.

  “Well done, Eyvi. This is good, very good indeed. Let’s see if you can walk over to the fire; no need to open your eyes yet, lean on me, I’ll guide you. Go slowly now. Good, good.” His steps were shuffling, his weight on her shoulder almost enough to topple her, but somehow they got to the fireside. His legs folded; he sat down abruptly, blinking, yawning, shivering despite the winter sun.