When they reached the stretch of water by the forbidden cave, Birch stood up in the shallow reaches and bound his long hair round his eyes. He waded back to where the river ran deep and strong and plunged into the water, head first. Juniper waited in the shallows, feeling cold and leaden like Stonegod. At last Birch surfaced, his wet hair clinging to his eyes and his left hand tightly clasped. He ordered his son to unknot his hair and Juniper, who was already taller than his father, bent down to untie it. For a moment they stood together like victims, caught up in something neither of them could help. Juniper wanted to fold his father into his arms and tell him he loved him, he meant no harm. But Birch was upright and unflinching and the moment passed.
They swam back to the camp. The family were whispering by the river, waiting for the judgement. Juniper waded to the bank and stood there, cold and shivering. He saw Rose holding his mother’s hand, his mother crying, Gentian staring at him with her big brown eyes. Oak was behind them, his eyes shut and Lime was looking with hatred and exultation.
‘Go to Walnut.’
Birch pushed Juniper before him towards the old man who was was still swinging the judgement stick from his finger. Juniper knelt down before Walnut and closed his eyes. He could feel the curved end of the judgement stick on his shoulder.
The old man muttered a prayer then took the pebble from Birch. He raised his arm and showed the stone to the silent family. ‘Wala has spoken. The pebble is grey. Juniper must be taken to the exile ground and left to die. The law says he must keep his deerhides, but that is all.’ Walnut’s old voice whined in anger. ‘He has brought death to the family. He must leave straightaway.’
Birch ordered Lime to blindfold Juniper with a thick cord.
‘Get his deer hides,’ he shouted to Willow. ‘Throw out everything he has touched,’ he ordered Oak.
No farewell, no last message. Only the blindfold and the rope round his arms. The darkness was like an enemy, filling him with fear.
He stumbled along between several men trying to make out who they were from their voices. There was Rose’s father, and Willow’s father, but there was one voice he couldn’t place as it whispered in his ear. It sounded like Oak but he knew that wasn’t possible. Perhaps it was a dream messenger, urging him not to give up.
They dragged him naked along the ground. His legs were cut, his body bled, leaves brushed against his face like harsh, dry hands, his head was heavy with confusion. Hornbeam had told him of the fate of men who were led away. Sometimes their gnawed bones were found at the edge of Birch’s ground, as if they had tried to crawl back and had been mauled by hungry animals. Sometimes they were turned to stone and stood forever guarding the exile place. Some waited to die, hearing the voices of their family in their heads calling and calling without end. Others died straightaway.
Juniper tried to forget by working out where he was. They were climbing steeply and the air felt colder. He thought the trees were thinning out because the blackness behind the grass cord slightly lifted. The men stopped and whispered together, but he was too exhausted to hear what they said. There was a swishing noise and without any warning a terrible pain seized his leg. He shouted out in agony. In his confusion he remembered how the most evil were mutilated when they were exiled. A broken leg was the strongest rope of all.
He screamed and screamed in the darkness. Pain filled his whole body. He lashed out as they pulled his blindfold and untied the ropes. Light stabbed him like a spear.
When he opened his eyes again he found himself lying on his deer hides and it took him a while to remember he had fallen asleep. He was stiff with pain and tried to stretch his limbs. As he moved clumsily about he marvelled how Sleepgod had unrolled his life in front of him.
He knew his childhood was like a friend who would stay by him in his exile.
He leaned heavily on one elbow and pulled himself up.
He was lying on a high plain. The grass was short and spiky. A little way off rocks huddled together then rose up, one behind the other as far as he could see. Higher up snow lay in patches and faraway against the sky he recognised the White mountain where Icegoddess lived. He caught his breath. He thought he saw some enormous beasts feeding, clearing away thin layers of fresh snow with their long, curved ivory tusks. A kind of mist rose from the woolly masses and one of the females shot out a thick jet of steaming urine. Mammoth! Hornbeam said there were no mammoth left on earth. They lived with Icegoddess and if you ever saw her herd it was a sacred sign! Juniper rubbed his eyes. When he looked again there was nothing but a herd of reindeer wandering through the rocks.
He must find shelter if he was to survive even for a short while. His leg had stiffened and he crawled painfully through the scrubby grass, his deer hides slung over his shoulders.
A little way ahead ibex were clashing antlers or nudging the grass. If only he could hunt! As it was, he would have to feed off grass and seeds and insects. He folded one of his hides to make a bag and stowed everything he could find into it as he crawled. He licked his lips. It was water he needed most of all.
When he reached the rocks night clouds stretched across the sky. He looked round and saw a boulder tilted against a gap in a ridge of huge stones. That was where he would shelter. He could stretch one of his hides over the gap to protect himself from the dark. Near the boulder a dwarf birch had been struck by Lightning-god. Twigs and branches lay about. He would use them for firewood.
He crawled on slowly and by the time he reached the boulder the black clouds covered the sky. The cold pained his chest and for a while he rested, letting pain and tiredness wash over him. When he felt a little better he threw one of his hides over the entrance to the shelter and secured it with a stone. Then he pulled himself inside, clutching the other hide that was full of stalks and scraps of moss and insects and leaves and plants he had gathered on his way. To survive he had to eat and light a fire, yet he barely wished to go on living. If it wasn’t for Hornbeam’s voice in his head he would have let himself die.
‘Rainwater, rainwater,’ said Hornbeam so loudly that Juniper sat up and groped his way to the starlit entrance. He saw stars dancing on the ground where water had gathered in a dip in the earth. He lowered his head and lapped it up like an animal. He watched the stars return as the water settled. Then he found a hollow stone, filled it with water and made his way back into the shelter. He felt a little stronger and gathered onto another stone the scraps of moss and grass he had collected. He rubbed flints together to light a spark.
‘It takes time but not strength,’ his mother had once said, but he was rubbing so feebly he wished he had the black stone from the secret cave. It was a long time before the moss and grass began to smoulder and he was able to build up a little fire, carefully using the longer stalks of grass and twigs. He knew he couldn’t crawl outside again, so when a spurt of firelight lit up several branches and twigs at the back of the shelter he sighed with relief. Someone else must have already sheltered in the cave! The twigs were old and dry as tinder. His pain was overwhelming but slowly he built up the fire and ate a few more of the seeds and leaves and insects to give himself strength. At last, feeling he had done everything he could, he lay down and covered himself with his hide. Before him the flames opened and grew and multiplied. They eased and comforted his anguish. But now there was a strange lightness in his head as if Pollon and Icegoddess were fighting inside him. Sun and snow, heat and cold. His mind was full of pictures.
As he fell asleep he wondered if Stonegod was standing by the fire, waiting for him.
BOOK TWO
THE JOURNEY
Chapter 9
BLOOD TRAIL
Oak watched them tie up Juniper, blindfold him and drag him away. Then he ran along the river bank and wept. Why hadn’t he stepped forward and told Birch he was to blame as much as Juniper?
He lay down and crashed his fist into the water. He listened to the distant cries of the family, the gabble and shrieks of children, and he gave a long low moan. He
put his hands over his ears. Shame overwhelmed him. Why didn’t he run back and tell them it was his fault? He had backed his friend. He had believed in him. Yet even now he knew in his heart it was his silence that would help Juniper most of all.
He stayed by the river until stars walked in the water and Moongoddess spread out her thin white moonhide. He rolled over and looked up at the dark hills. Juniper was out there somewhere, alone with his two deer hides. He listened to the crackle and shuffle of the night prowlers—wolf and fox pacing round their bonepit. He heard a lion roar.
Was Juniper already torn to pieces or would he find shelter before nightfall, however great his pain? Oak shook his head. In exile they said you turned to stone or you were eaten.
He sat up. There was no other way. He would have to go after Juniper while there was still time.
He dipped his hand in the river and stroked the water backwards and forwards. Once Juniper had told him Hornbeam’s dying words about the Salvi and the cave painting. Perhaps it was his destiny to find his friend and lead him to the other tribe. As for himself, he must be wary as the hare and wise as Hornbeam. Whatever happened he must leave a way open for his return to Birch’s family.
He stared down at Greenwater. This was the only place where he felt at home. Moongoddess walked slowly across the water and he felt calmer, stronger. Moongoddess was his friend and would help him, wherever he was. He went back to the cave where Marigold was waiting. He took her in his arms and lay close to her thin body. Her face was pale and unresponsive.
‘Rose will always be here,’ he told her, but she asked nothing. She never asked anything. Perhaps she could see the pictures in his mind and knew what he was going to do. They said the touched ones had a power of their own.
Soon after the judgement Oak went hunting with Lime. He put herbs and a long piece of cord in his bag and carried his deerhides over his shoulder.
‘Why are you taking so much?’ asked Lime.
Oak pointed to the sky. ‘The cold is coming. Besides I have ice in my arm from swimming at the Koni hunt. And we might get lost, especially if you insist on killing a boar and nothing else.’
Lime laughed. ‘This time I will throw the first spear!’ He took hold of Oak’s arm and rubbed it. ‘Now I’m your friend nothing can happen to you. We’ll kill a great fat boar,’ Lime circled his hands and gave shape to the animal, ‘we’ll eat the best portions—’
Oak nodded and smiled.
They crossed the grass and walked up towards the forest and silently along the path that led to the pits. Deer held up their heads as they passed and in the distance they saw a herd of horse slipping through the trees.
‘It’s the boar I want,’ whispered Lime.
They climbed on until they were almost at the edge of Birch’s land. Trees were close together, shadows thick on the ground. Soft pine needles cradled their steps. Oak put his finger to his mouth and pointed to a small track.
‘Down there. I smell pig. There’s only room for one at a time. You go ahead so you can throw the first spear!’
Lime nodded and ran down the overgrown track without looking back.
At last Oak was alone. With great speed he slipped away under the dark trees, using his spear to ease his way through the undergrowth. The ground sloped upwards and the trees began to thin out. He ran silently until his breath hurt then he stopped and leaned against a tree. The pine bark felt rough under his hands and with the help of a cord that bound him to the tall straight trunk, he shinned up the tree until he could look down at the forest and the valley. He breathed a sigh of relief. Lime was out of sight but there was Greenwater like a silver eel below him. He watched the shelter where the family moved about like insects and somewhere Marigold waited patiently. Tears came into his eyes. He longed to go back. There was still time. He looked the other way to the barren plain and the rocks and the mountain where Icegoddess lived. How could he ever find his friend? He sighed, knowing he would have to go on. Juniper was calling him and he had to follow.
Soon the trees thinned out and he came to the bare grassy plain. In the distance rock after rock rose into the sky and he noticed a streak of silver that might be water. Ibex were roaming about, nosing at the patches of tough grass. Oxen lumbered against the sky and horses clumped together. Not far off deer were returning from the fawning grounds with their little calves. They ambled slowly along, cropping lichen, moss and grass. Oak raised his spear then lowered it again. Even here he wasn’t safe. He didn’t think Lime would look for him, but if an animal shrieked it would set the birds squalling and flying down. Then Lime might guess where he was and tell Birch. If that happened Birch would never forgive him.
Oak hurried on, looking for signs of Juniper. He grew cold and frightened and longed to go home. The trail of silver in the rocks reminded him of Greenwater. All his life was reflected in the river. If he slipped back no-one would ever know. Besides Juniper might be dead. He stood still, concentrating, listening to the voices in his head. Then in some dark place inside him he heard Juniper calling ‘Oak, Oak’ in a voice that meant he was dying. He knew that if he went back he would always hear his friend’s voice calling him, calling him, wherever he was. So he pulled his deer hides tightly round him and walked on towards the rocks that cut into the sky.
As he crossed the plain he gathered more herbs. Lumba had taught him their uses and if he found Juniper he would need them. Here was broom that would eat poison from insect bites. Warble flies were everywhere and if they settled in a wound there was little hope. Here was a bilberry bush, its dark blue berries rich and ripe. He crammed some into his mouth to cool his aching throat. He folded several into leaves remembering how Lumba had given them to Juniper’s mother when she was sick. He forced himself to think of nothing else but finding and collecting herbs, and he laughed out loud when he discovered little sprigs of heather in the spiky grass.
‘Maybe Juniper will need this,’ he thought, stuffing them into his bag.
He was half way across the plain when he smelled human blood. He recalled the smell of Lime’s mother after the bear had attacked her. It seemed a lifetime ago when Birch asked him to cup her blood in the skull of a deer, so she would be strong enough to make her journey with Stonegod. Afterwards Birch had lowered the skull into her grave. Lime should have done it all but he had run off, screaming.
Oak knelt down and peered closely at the grass. His heart leapt when he saw a smudge of brown bloodstain in the grass at his feet. He remembered the smell of Juniper’s blood at the the knife cutting. He had no doubt that this had the same smell.
He walked on slowly, bending over, sniffing and examining the grass. The blood trail took him across the plain to where the rocks massed together, as if Icegoddess, in her anger, had flung them down from her tall white mountain.
Chapter 10
THE BATTLE WITH STONEGOD
The sky was white and grey. The Windgods hovered up there, crossing and recrossing the sky. In the valley autumn didn’t last long. And here? Perhaps winter is already on its way, thought Oak, then how shall we survive? He stumbled along and prayed to Sungod, using his sacred name so it would have more power.
‘Guide me Pollon, help me to reach Juniper, keep me strong.’
He was afraid of this strange place. He chewed a piece of thyme to ease his feelings and shouted out Juniper’s name to make him feel his friend was near.
The blood marks had disappeared but he recognised the spore of arctic fox pressed in the patches of gravelly earth, and hurried in their direction. He knew the fox would sniff out a wounded man.
He called out again and thought he heard a faint cry coming from somewhere ahead of him. But it was the geese passing overhead, knifing the air in clear formation. The sky echoed their last parting cry and once again silence fell on the barren ground.
‘Soon snowflakes will fall,’ thought Oak, ‘and the plain will go to sleep.’
Night clouds were already gathering on the horizon. A little way ahead of him, ne
stled in rocks, he saw a small patch of silver water shimmer and nearby a tree that had been struck by Lightning-god. It was bare, like a bony man beckoning him on.
At the edge of the plain there were many boulders lying about, tipped on their side. This must be where the exiles are turned to stone, he thought. He stared for a long time at one of them, wondering if it was Juniper. But when he clambered round the boulder, the smell of a fire hung in the air and he caught sight of a deer hide hanging between rocks. He ran towards the shelter, pushed the deer skin aside and walked into the cave. At first he saw nothing but a shadow fleeing—perhaps an animal that had been living here. Then he caught sight of Juniper huddled in a corner, a tiny fire dying by his side. He wondered if the fleeing shadow was Stonegod who had been keeping his friend company.
Juniper was tossing and crying out. His face was screwed up, his hands scratching at the deer hide. Oak knelt down and felt for his heart. It was knocking very feebly as if it would give out at any moment.
He sat down cross-legged and took out what he had in his bag. Then he went outside and tried to scoop up a little water that had collected in the rocks. Sungod had left the sky but in the grey early dark he could still see the pool gleaming a little way off. He hurried down to fill his bag with icecold water. Back in the shelter he built up the fire and filled a hollow stone with water and rose petals. He heated the mixture, stirring it with a little twig. When it was warm enough he forced the drink between Juniper’s lips. He was shocked at his friend’s wounds and splashed a few drops of rose water over them as Lumba had shown him. Then he placed Juniper carefully on his side, so he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. He stroked his head slowly, and sang the recovery song over and over again. His voice echoed round the cave, powerful like his shadow self that spurted up and down the cave wall. He continued to bathe Juniper’s crushed leg with rose water then looked round for a straight stick from the stock of branches at the back of the shelter. He carefully selected one that was strong and thin. He stripped off the bark and splashed it clean in the water. Then he straightened out Juniper’s leg and tied the stick to it with a length of cord. Surely this would help the bones weave together?
The Dream Cave Page 5
