Soul Eater (Chronicles of Ancient Darkness #3)
Michelle Paver
ONE
Torak didn't want it to be an omen. He didn't want it to be anything more than an owl feather lying in the snow. So he ignored it. That was his first mistake.Quietly, he went back to the tracks they'd been following since dawn. They looked fresh. He slipped off his mitten and felt them. No ice in the bottom. Yes, fresh. Turning to Renn, farther uphill, he tapped his sleeve and raised his forefinger, then pointed down into the beech wood. One reindeer, heading south.Renn gave a nod, whipped an arrow from her quiver, and nocked it to her bow. Like Torak, she was hard to10see in a pale reindeer-hide parka and leggings, with wood ash smeared on her face to mask her scent. Like him, she was hungry, having eaten nothing since a slip of dried boar meat for daymeal.Unlike him, she hadn't seen the owl feather.So don't tell her, he thought.That was his second mistake.A few paces below him, Wolf was sniffing at a patch where the reindeer had scraped away the snow to get at the lichen. His ears were pricked, his silver fur fluffed up with excitement. If he sensed Torak's unease, he didn't show it. Another sniff, then he raised his muzzle to catch the scent-laden breeze, and his amber gaze grazed Torak's. Smells bad.Torak tilted his head. What do you mean? he asked in wolf talk.Wolf twitched his whiskers. Bad muzzle.Torak went to examine what he'd found, and spotted a tiny bead of yellow pus on the bare earth. Wolf was telling him that the reindeer was old, its teeth rotten after many winters of munching gritty lichen.Torak wrinkled his nose in a brief wolf smile. Thank you, pack-brother. Then he glanced at Renn, and headed downhill as silently as his beaver-hide boots would allow.Not silently enough for Wolf, who flicked a reproachful ear as he moved over the snow as11soundlessly as smoke.Together they crept between the sleeping trees. Black oaks and silvery beeches glittered with frost. Here and there Torak saw the crimson blaze of holly berries; the deep green of a wakeful spruce standing guard over its slumbering sisters. The Forest was hushed. The rivers were frozen. Most of the birds had flown south.Except for that owl, thought Torak.He'd known it was an owl's feather as soon as he'd seen its furry upper side, which muffled the sound of flight when the owl was hunting. If it had been the dusky gray of a Forest owl, he wouldn't have worried; he'd simply have given it to Renn, who used them to fletch her arrows. But this feather was barred with black and tawny; shadow and flame. That told Torak it belonged to the greatest, the fiercest of owls: the eagle owl. And to find one of those--that was bad.Wolf's black nose twitched.Torak was instantly alert.Through the trees, he glimpsed the reindeer, nibbling beard-moss. He heard the crunch of its hooves, saw its misting breath. Good, they were still downwind. He forgot the feather, and thought of juicy meat and rich marrowfat.Behind him, the faint creak of Renn's bow. He fitted an arrow to his own, then realized he was blocking her12view, and dropped to one knee, since she was the better shot.The reindeer moved behind a beech tree. They'd have to wait.As Torak waited, he noticed a spruce, five paces below him. The way it spread its snow-laden arms ... warning him back.Gripping his bow, he fixed his gaze on the prey.A gust of wind stirred the beeches around him, and last summer's leaves rustled like dry, dead hands.He swallowed. It felt as if the Forest were trying to tell him something.Overhead a branch shifted, and a flurry of snow hissed down. He glanced up. His heart jerked. An eagle owl. Tufted ears as sharp as spearpoints. Huge orange eyes like twin suns. With a cry he leaped to his feet.The reindeer fled.Wolf raced off in pursuit.Renn's arrow sped past Torak's hood.The eagle owl spread its enormous wings and silently flew away."What were you doing?" shouted Renn furiously. "Standing up like that? I might have killed you!"Torak didn't reply. He was watching the eagle owl soar into the fierce blue of the noonday sky. But eagle owls, he thought, hunt by night.Wolf came bounding through the trees and skittered13to a halt beside him, shaking off snow and lashing his tail. He hadn't expected to catch the reindeer, but he'd enjoyed the chase.Sensing Torak's unease, he rubbed against him. Torak knelt, burying his face in the deep, coarse scruff; breathing in Wolf's familiar sweet-grass scent."What's wrong?" said Renn.Torak raised his head. "That owl, of course.""What owl?"He blinked. "But you must have seen it. The eagle owl--it was so close I could have touched it!"When she still looked blank, he ran back up the hill and found the feather. "Here," he panted, holding it out!Wolf flattened his ears and growled.Renn put her hand to her clan-creature feathers."What does it mean?" said Torak."I don't know, but it's bad. We should get back. Fin-Kedinn will know what to do. And Torak"--she eyed the feather--"leave it here."As he threw it into the snow, he wished he hadn't picked it up with his bare hand. A fine gray powder dusted his palm. He wiped it off on his parka, but his skin carried a whiff of rottenness that reminded him of the Raven bone-grounds.Suddenly Wolf gave a grunt, and pricked his ears."What's he smelled?" said Renn. She didn't speak14wolf talk, but she knew Wolf.Torak frowned. "I don't know." Wolf's tail was high, but he wasn't giving any of the prey signals Torak recognized.Strange prey, Wolf told him, and he realized that Wolf was puzzled too.An overwhelming sense of danger swept over Torak. He gave an urgent warning bark. Uff! Stay away!But Wolf was off, racing up the valley in his tireless lope."No!" shouted Torak, floundering after him. "What's the matter?" cried Renn. "What did he say?""'Strange prey,'" said Torak.With growing alarm, he watched Wolf crest the ridge and glance back at them. He looked magnificent: his thick winter pelt a rich blend of gray and black and foxy red, his bushy tail taut with the thrill of the hunt. Follow me, pack-brother! Strange prey!Then he was gone.They followed as fast as they could, but they were burdened with packs and sleeping-sacks, and the snow was deep, so they had to use their wicker snowshoes, which slowed them even more. When they reached the top, Wolf was nowhere to be seen."He'll be waiting for us," said Renn, trying to be reassuring. She pointed to a thicket of aspen. "Soon as15we get down into that, he'll pounce."That made Torak feel a little better. Only yesterday Wolf had hidden behind a juniper bush, then leaped out and knocked him into a snowdrift, growling and play-biting till Torak was helpless with laughter.They reached the aspens. Wolf didn't pounce.Torak uttered two short barks. Where are you?No answer.His tracks were plain enough, though. Several clans hunted here, and all used dogs, but there was no mistaking Wolf's tracks for a dog's. A dog runs haphazardly, because he knows his master will feed him, whereas a wolf runs with a purpose: he must find prey, or starve. And although Wolf had been with Torak and the Raven Clan for the past seven moons, Torak had never given him food, for fear of blunting his hunting skills.The afternoon wore on, and still they followed his trail: a straight-line lope, in which the hindpaws trod in the prints of the forepaws. The crunch of their snowshoes and the rasp of their breath echoed through the Forest."We're getting quite far north," said Renn. They were about a daywalk from the Raven camp, which lay to the southwest, by the Widewater river.Again Torak barked. Where are you?Snow drifted from a tree, pattering onto his hood.16The stillness after it settled seemed deeper than before.As he watched the gleam die on a cluster of holly berries, he sensed that the day was on the turn. Already the brightness was fading from the sky, and shadows were stealing out from under the trees. A chill crept into his heart, because he knew that the descent into darkness had begun.The clans call this the demon time, because it's in winter, when the great bull Auroch rears high among the stars, that demons escape from the Otherworld, and flit through the Forest, to cause havoc and despair. It only takes one to taint a whole valley; and although the Mages keep watch, they can't trap them all. Demons are hard to see. You never catch more than a glimpse, and you can't be sure what they look like, because they change, the better to slip into sleeping mouths and possess living bodies. There they crouch in the red darkness, sucking out courage and trust, leaving the seeds of malice and strife.It was at this moment, at the demon tim
e, that Torak knew the omens had come true. Wolf hadn't howled a reply because he could not. Because something had happened to him.Nightmare visions flashed through Torak's mind. What if Wolf had tried to bring down an auroch or an elk on his own? He was only twenty moons old. A flying hoof can kill a foolhardy young wolf.17Maybe he'd been caught in a snare. Torak had' taught him to avoid them, but what if he'd been careless? He'd be trapped. Unable to howl as the noose tightened round his neck.The trees creaked. More snow pattered down. Torak put his hands to his lips and howled. Where--are--you?No reply.Renn gave him a worried smile; but in her dark eyes he saw his own anxiety. "The sun's going down," she said.He swallowed. "In a while the moon will be up. There'll be enough light to track."She gave a doubtful nod.They'd gone another few paces when she turned aside. "Torak! Over here!"Whoever had caught Wolf had done it with the simplest of traps. They'd dug a pit, and hidden it with a flimsy screen of snow-covered branches.That wouldn't have held him for long, but in the churned-up snow around the pit, Torak found shreds of braided rawhide. "A net," he said in disbelief. "They had a net.""But--no spikes in the pit," said Renn. "They must have wanted him alive."This is a bad dream, thought Torak. I'm going to wake up, and Wolf is going to come loping through the trees.18That was when he saw the blood. A shocking red spatter in the snow."Maybe he bit them," muttered Renn. "I hope he did. I hope he bit their hands off!"Torak picked up a tuft of bloody fur. His fingers shook. He forced himself to read the snow.Wolf had approached the pitfall warily, his tracks changing from a straight-line lope to a walk, in which front and hind prints showed side by side. But he'd approached just the same.Oh Wolf, said Torak silently. Why weren't you more careful?Then it struck him that maybe it was his friendship with Wolf that had made him more trusting of people. Maybe this was his fault.He stared at the trampled trail that led north. Ice was forming in the tracks. Wolf's captors had a head start."How many sets of prints?" said Renn, staying well back, as Torak was by far the better tracker."Two. The bigger man's prints are deeper when he ran off.""So--he was carrying Wolf. But why take him at all? No one would hurt Wolf. No one would dare." It was strict clan law that no harm should be done to any of the hunters in the Forest."Torak," she called, crouching behind a clump of19juniper. "They hid over here. But I can't make out--" "Don't move!" warned Torak. "What?""There, by your boot!"She froze. "What--made that?"He squatted to examine it.His father had taught him tracking, and he thought he knew every print of every creature in the Forest; but these were the strangest he'd ever seen. Very light and small, like a bird's--but not. The hind tracks resembled tiny, crooked, five-clawed hands, but there were no front prints, only two pockmarks: as if the creature had been walking on stumps.'"Strange prey,'" murmured Torak.Renn met his eyes. "Bait. They used it as bait."He stood up. "They went north, toward the valley of the Axehandle. Where could they go from there?"She threw up her hands. "Anywhere! They could've turned east for Lake Axehead, and kept going all the way to the High Mountains. Or doubled back south, for the Deep Forest. Or west, they could be halfway to the Sea by now-"Voices, coming their way.They ducked behind the junipers. Renn readied her bow, and Torak drew his black basalt axe from his belt. Whoever it was, they were making no attempt at20stealth. Torak saw a man and woman, followed by a large dog dragging a sled on which lolled a dead roe buck. A boy of about eight summers plunged eagerly ahead, and with him a younger dog with a deerhide saddlepack strapped to his belly.The young dog caught Wolf's scent on Torak, gave a terrified yelp, and
sped, back to the boy, who halted. Torak saw the clan-tattoo between his eyebrows: three slender black ovals, like a permanent frown.Renn breathed out. "Willow Clan!
sped, back to the boy, who halted. Torak saw the clan-tattoo between his eyebrows: three slender black ovals, like a permanent frown.Renn breathed out. "Willow Clan! Maybe they saw something!""No!" He pulled her back. "We don't know if we can trust-them!"She stared at him. "Torak, these are Willows! Of course we can!" Before he could stop her, she was running toward them, both fists over her heart in sign of friendship.They saw her and broke into smiles. They were returning to their clan in the west, the woman explained. Her face was scarred, like birch canker, marking her as a survivor of last summer's sickness."Did you meet anyone?" said Renn. "We're looking for--"'"We?"' queried the man.Torak stood up. "You've come from the north. Did you see anyone?"21The man's eyes flicked to Torak's clan-tattoos, and his eyebrows rose. "We don't meet many Wolf Clan these days." Then to Renn, "You're young to be hunting so far from your camp."Renn bridled. "We're both thirteen summers old. And we have the Leader's leave--""Did you see anyone?" broke in Torak."I did," said the boy."Who?" cried Torak. "Who was it?"The boy drew back, startled by his intensity. "I--I'd gone to find Snapper." He pointed at his dog, who gave a faint wag of his tail. "He likes chasing squirrels, but he gets lost. Then I saw them. They had a net; it was struggling."So he's still alive, thought Torak. He'd been clenching his fists so hard that his nails were digging into his palms."What did they look like?" said Renn.The boy stretched his arm above his head. "A huge man. And another, big, with bowed legs.""What about their clan-tattoos?" said Torak. "Clancreature skins? Anything!"The boy gulped. "Their hoods were up; I didn't see their faces."Torak turned to the Willow man. "Can you take a message to Fin-Kedinn? "22"Whatever it is," said the man, "you should tell him yourself. The Leader of the Ravens is wise; he'll know what to do.""There's no time," said Torak. "Tell him that someone has taken Wolf. Tell him we're going to get him back."23TWONight brought a bone-cracking frost that turned the trees white, and the snow-crust brittle underfoot. It was past middle-night, and Torak was dizzy with tiredness. He forced himself to keep going. The trail of Wolf's captors lay like a snake in the moonlight. North, always north.With heart-stopping suddenness, seven Mages loomed before him. Lean, horned shadows cut across his path. We will rule the Forest, they whispered in voices colder than windblown snow. All tremble before us. We are the Soul-Eaters....A hand touched his shoulder. He cried out.24"What's wrong?" said Renn.He blinked. Before him, seven birch trees glittered with frost. "A dream.""About what?" Renn knew something of dreams, because sometimes her own came true."Nothing," said Torak.She gave a disbelieving snort.They trudged on, their breath smoking in the freezing air.Torak wondered if the dream meant something. Could it be--was it possible that the Soul-Eaters were behind Wolf's disappearance?But what would they want with Wolf?Besides, no trace of them had been found. Since the sickness last summer, Fin-Kedinn had spoken to every clan in the Open Forest, and had sent word to the Deep Forest and the Sea and Mountain clans. Nothing. The Soul-Eaters had gone to ground like a bear in winter.And yet--Wolf was still gone.Torak felt as if he were walking in a blizzard of ignorance and fear. Raising his head, he saw the great bull Auroch high in the sky. He felt the malice of its cold red eye, and fought a rising tide of panic. First he'd lost his father. Now Wolf. What if he never saw Wolf again? What if he was already dead?The trees thinned. Before them glimmered a frozen river, crisscrossed with hare tracks. On its banks, the25dead umbels of hemlock reached spiked fingers toward the stars.A herd of forest horses took fright and clattered off across the ice, then turned to stare. Their manes stood stiff as icicles, and in their moon-bright eyes Torak glimpsed an echo of his own fear.In his mind he saw Wolf as he'd looked before he vanished: magnificent and proud. Torak had known him since he was a cub. Most of the time he was simply Wolf: clever, inquisitive, and fiercely loyal. Sometimes he was the guide, with a mysterious certainty in his amber eyes. Always he was a pack-brother."What I don't understand," said Renn, cutting across his thoughts, "is why take Wolf at all?""Maybe it's a trap. Maybe they want me, not Wolf.""I thought of that too." Her voice dropped. "Maybe--whoever took Wolf is after you because ..." She hesitated. "Because you're a spirit walker, and they want your power."He flinched. He hated being a spirit walker. And he hated that she'd said it out loud. It felt like a scab being torn off."But if they were after you," she persisted, "why not just take you? Two big strong men, we'd have been no match for th
em. So why--""I don't know!" snapped Torak. "Why do you keep going on? What good does it do?"26Renn stared at him."I don't know why they took him!" he cried. "I don't care if it's a trap! I just want him back!"After that, they didn't speak at all. The forest horses had trampled the trail, and for a while it was lost, which at least gave them an excuse to split up. When Torak found it again, it had changed. For the worse."They've made a sled," he said. "No dogs to pull it, but even without, they'll be able to go much faster downhill."Renn glanced at the sky. "It's clouding over. We should build a shelter. Get some rest." "You can if you want. I'm going on." She put her hands on her hips. "On your own?" "If I have to.""Torak. He's my friend too.""He's not just my friend" he retorted. "He's my pack-brother!"He could see that he'd hurt her."And how," she said between her teeth, "is blundering about missing things going to help him?"He glared at her. "I haven't missed anything!""Oh no? A few paces back, one of them turned aside to follow those otter tracks--""What otter tracks?""That's what I mean! You're exhausted! So am I!"27He knew she was right. But he didn't want to admit it. In silence they found a storm-toppled spruce, and dug out the snow at its base to make a makeshift sleeping-space. They roofed it with spruce boughs, and used their snowshoes as shovels to pack on a thick layer of snow. Finally they dragged more boughs inside, and laid their reindeer-hide sleeping-sacks on top. When they'd finished, they were trembling with fatigue.From his tinder pouch Torak took his strike-fire and some shredded birch bark, and woke up a fire. The only deadwood he'd found was spruce, so it smoked and spat. He was too exhausted to care.Renn wrinkled her nose at the smoke, but didn't remark on it. She took a coil of elk-blood sausage from her pack and cut it in three, then put one piece on the roof of the shelter for the clan guardian, and tossed Torak another. Tucking her own share in her food pouch, she picked up her axe and waterskin. "I'm going to the river. There's more meat in my pack, but don't touch the dried lingonberries.""Why not?""Because," she said crossly, "I'm saving them for Wolf!"After she'd gone, Torak forced himself to eat. Then he crawled out of the shelter and made an offering. Cutting a lock of his long, dark hair, he tied it around28a branch of the fallen spruce. Then he put his hand on his clan-creature skin: the tattered scrap of wolf fur sewn to the shoulder of his parka. "Forest," he said, "hear me. I ask by each of my three souls--by my name-soul, my clan-soul, and my world-soul--I ask that you watch over Wolf, and keep him from harm."It was only when he'd finished that he noticed a lock of dark-red hair tied to another branch. Renn had made her own offering.That made him feel guilty. He shouldn't have shouted at her.Back in the shelter, he pulled off his boots, wriggled into his sleeping-sack, and lay watching the fire, smelling the mustiness of reindeer fur and the bitter tang of spruce.Far away, an owl hooted. Not the familiar bvoo-bvoo of a gray Forest owl, but the deep oo-hu, oo-hu, oo-hu of an eagle owl.Torak shivered.He heard Renn's footsteps crunching through the snow, and called to her. "You made an offering. So did I."When she didn't answer, he added, "Sorry I snapped at you. It's just... Well. Sorry."Still no answer.He heard her crunch toward the shelter--then circle behind it.He sat up. "Renn?"29The footsteps stopped.His heart began to pound. It wasn't Renn.As quietly as he could, he wriggled out of his sleeping-sack, pulled on his boots, and reached for his axe.The footsteps came closer. Whoever it was stood only an arm's length away, separated by a flimsy wall of spruce.For a moment there was silence. Then--very loud in the stillness--Torak heard wet, bubbling breath.His skin prickled. He thought of the victims of last summer's sickness. The murderous light in their eyes; the slime catching in their throats ...He thought of Renn, alone by the river. He crawled toward the mouth of the shelter.Clouds covered the moon, and the night was black. He caught a whiff of carrion. Heard again that bubbling breath."Who are you?" he called into the dark.The breathing stopped. The stillness was absolute.' The stillness of something waiting in the dark.Torak scrambled out of the shelter and stood, clutching his axe with both hands. Smoke stung his eyes, but for a heartbeat he glimpsed a huge form melting into the shadows.A cry rang out behind him--and he spun around to see Renn staggering through the trees. "By the river!"30she panted. "It stank, it was horrible!""It was here," he told her. "It came close. I heard it."Back to back, they stared into the Forest. Whatever it was, it had gone, leaving only a whiff of carrion and a dread memory of bubbling breath.Sleep was now impossible. They fed the fire, then sat up together, waiting for dawn."What do you think it was?" said Renn.Torak shook his head. "I don't know. But I know one thing. If we'd had Wolf with us, it would never have got that close."They stared into the fire. With Wolf gone, they hadn't only lost a friend. They'd lost someone to keep them from harm.31THREEThey heard nothing more that night, but in the morning they found tracks. Huge, manlike--but without any toes.The tracks were nothing like the booted feet of the men who'd captured Wolf, but they headed the same way. "Now there are three of them," said Renn. Torak didn't reply. They had no choice but to follow. The sky was heavy with snow, and the Forest was full of shadows. With each step they dreaded seeing a figure lurching toward them. Demon? Soul-Eater? Or one of the Hidden People, whose backs are hollow as rotten trees....32The wind picked up. Torak watched the snow drifting across the tracks, and thought of Wolf. "If this wind keeps up, the trail won't last much longer."Renn craned her neck to follow the flight of a raven. "If only we could see what it can."Torak gave the bird a thoughtful stare.They began their descent into the next valley through a silent birchwood. "Look," said Torak. "Your otter's been here before us." He pointed to a line of webbed prints and a long, smooth furrow in the snow. The otter had bounded down the slope, then slid on its belly, as otters love to do.Renn smiled, and for a moment, they pictured a happy otter taking a snow-slide.But the otter had never reached the frozen lake at the bottom of the hill. In the lee of a boulder twenty paces above the shore, Torak found a scattering of fish-scales and a shred of rawhide. "They trapped it," he said."Why?" said Renn. "An otter's a hunter----"Torak shook his head. It didn't make sense.Suddenly Renn tensed. "Hide!" she whispered, pulling him behind the boulder.Through the trees, Torak caught movement on the lake. A creature snuffling, swaying, searching for something. It was very tall, with a shaggy pelt and a trailing, matted mane. Torak smelled carrion, and heard a wet bubbling of breath. Then it turned, and he saw a33filthy one-eyed face as rough as bark. He gasped."It can't be!" whispered Renn.They stared at one another. "The Walker!"The autumn before last, their paths had crossed with this terrifying, mad old man. They'd been lucky to escape with their lives."What's he doing so far from his valley?" breathed Torak as they shrank farther behind the boulder."And how do we get past without being seen?" hissed Renn."Maybe--we don't.""What?""Maybe he saw who took Wolf!""Have you forgotten," she said in a furious whisper, "that he nearly killed us? That he threw my quiver in the stream, and threatened to snap my bow?" It was unclear which she considered worse: threatening them or her bow."But he didn't, did he?" countered Torak. "He let us go. And Renn. What if he saw something?""So you're just going to ask him, are you? Torak, he's crazy! Whatever he says, we couldn't believe him!"Torak opened his mouth to reply ...... and around them the snow exploded."Give it back!" roared the Walker, brandishing his green slate knife. "She took his fire! She tricked him! The Walker wants it back!"34***"The Walker has tricked the tricksters!" he bellowed, pinning them against the boulder. "Now they must give it back!"His mane was a tangle of beard-moss, his scrawny limbs as gnarled as roots. Loops of green slime swung like creepers from his shattered nose and his rotten, toothless mouth.He'd left his cape on the ice to fool them, and was naked but for a hide loincloth stiff with filth, foot-bindings of moldy wovenbark, and a rancid jerkin made from the skin of a red deer, which he'd ripped from the carcass and then forgotten to clean. The tail, legs and hooves swung wildly as he waved his knife in their faces."She took it!" he shouted, spattering them with slime. "She tricked him!""I--I didn't take anything," stammered Renn, hiding her bow behind her back."Don't you remember us?" said Torak. "We never stole anything!""Not she!" snarled
the Walker. "She!" Quick as an eel, a grimy hand flashed out and seized Torak by the hair. His head was twisted back, his weapons tossed in the snow. "The sideways one," breathed the Walker, blasting him with an eye-watering stink. "Her fault that Narik is lost!"35"But we didn't do anything!" pleaded Renn. "Let him go!""Axe!" spat the Walker, fixing her with his bloodshot eye. "Knife! Arrows! Bow! In the snow, quick quick quick!"Renn did as she was told.The Walker pressed his knife against Torak's windpipe, cutting off his air. "She gives him her fire," he snarled, "or he slits the wolf boy's throat! And he'll do it, oh yes!"Black spots darted before Torak's eyes. "Renn--" he gasped, "strike-fire--""Take it!" cried Renn, fumbling at her tinder pouch.Deftly the old man caught the stone, and threw Torak to the ground. "The Walker has fire!" he exulted. "Beautiful fire!" Now he can find Narik!"That would have been the time to run. Torak knew it, and so did Renn. Neither of them moved."The sideways one," panted Torak, rubbing his throat."Who is she?" said Renn.The old man turned on her, and she dodged a flailing hoof. "But the Walker is crazy" he sneered, "so who can believe him?"Seizing one of the deer legs, he sucked at the festering hide. "The sideways one," he mumbled. "Not alone, oh no, oh no. Twisted legs and flying thoughts." He hawked and spat, narrowly missing Torak. "Big as a tree, crushing36the little creatures, the slitherers and scurriers too weak to fight back." A spasm of pain twisted his ruined features. "Worst," he whispered, "the Masked One. Crudest of the cruel."Renn threw Torak a horrified look."But the Walker follows," hissed the old man. "Oh yes, oh yes, he listens in the cold!""Where are they going?" said Torak. "Is Wolf still alive?""The Walker knows nothing of wolves! They seek the empty lands! The Far North!" He clawed the crusted tattoos on his throat. "First you're cold, then you're not. Then you're hot, then you die." His eye lit on Torak and he grinned. "They are going to open the Door!"Torak swallowed. "What door? Where?"The old man cried out, and beat his forehead with his fists. "But where is Narik? They keep him and keep him, and Narik is lost!" He turned and blundered off toward the lake.Torak and Renn exchanged glances--then snatched up their weapons, and raced after him.Out on the ice, the Walker retrieved his shaggy cape, and resumed his snuffling search. One of his foot-bindings came loose and blew away.Torak brought it back--and recoiled. The old man's foot was a blackened, frostbitten, toeless stump. "What happened?"37The Walker shrugged. "What always happens if you lose your fire. It bit his toes, so he cut them off.""What bit them?" said Renn."It! It!" He beat at the wind with his fists.Suddenly his face changed, and for a moment Torak saw the man he'd been before the accident that had taken his eye and his wits. "It can never rest, the wind, or it would cease to be. That's why it's angry. That's why it bit the Walker's toes." He cackled. "Ach, they tasted bad! Not even the Walker could eat them! He had to spit them out and leave them for the foxes!"Torak's gorge rose. Renn clamped both hands over her mouth."So now the Walker keeps falling over. But still he searches for his Narik." He ground his knuckle into his empty eye socket.Narik, thought Torak. The mouse who'd been the old man's beloved companion. "Did they take Narik, too?" he said, determined to keep him talking.The Walker shook his head sadly. "Sometimes Narik goes away. He always comes back, in new fur. But not this time.""New fur?" queried Renn."Yes, yes!" the Walker said tetchily. "Lemming. Vole. Mouse. Doesn't matter what, still the same Narik!" "Oh," said Renn. "I see. New fur." "Only this time," said the Walker, his mouth ragged38with grief, "Narik never came back!" He staggered away across the ice, howling for his fosterling.Almost with reluctance, they left him, and made their way into the woods on the other side of the lake."He'll be better now that he has fire," Renn said quietly."No he won't," said Torak. "Not without Narik." She sighed. "Narik's dead. An owl probably ate him for nightmeal.""Another Narik, then.""He'll find one." She tried to smile. "One with new fur.""How? How can he track a mouse, with only one eye? ""Come on. We'd better get going."Torak hesitated. The sun was getting low, the trail fast disappearing beneath windblown snow. And yet--he felt for the Walker. This stinking, angry, crazy old man had found one spark of warmth in his life: his Narik, his fosterling. Now that spark was lost.Before Renn could protest, Torak dropped his gear and ran back to the lake.The old man didn't glance up, and Torak didn't speak to him. He put down his head and began looking for signs.It didn't take long to find a lemming burrow. He spotted weasel tracks, and followed them to a clump of39willow on the shore. There he crouched, listening for the small scratchings that told him where the lemmings were burrowing.With its many knife-prick entrance holes, their winter shelter reminded him of an extremely small badger's sett. Peering at the snow, he found one hole rimed with tiny ice-arrows of frozen breath. That meant the occupant was at home.He marked the spot with two crossed willow twigs, and ran to fetch the old man. "Walker," he said gently.The old man swung around."Narik: He's over there."The Walker squinted at him. Then he followed Torak back to the crossed sticks.As Torak watched, he knelt and began clearing the snow with feather-light gentleness, stooping to blow away the final flakes.There, curled in its burrow on a neat bed of dried grass, lay a lemming about the size of Torak's palm: a soft, heaving ball of black and orange fur."Narik," breathed the Walker.The lemming woke with a start, sprang to its feet and gave a fearsome hiss to frighten off the intruder.The Walker grinned, and extended his big, grimy hand.The lemming fluffed up its fur and hissed again. The Walker didn't move.40The lemming sat down and scratched its ear vigorously with its hindpaw. Then it waddled meekly onto the leathery palm, curled up, and went back to sleep.Torak left them without a word.Back on the shore, Renn handed him his weapons and pack. "That was a good thing you did," she said.Torak shrugged. Then he grinned. "Narik's grown a bit since we saw him. Now he's a lemming."She laughed.They hadn't gone far when they heard the crunch of snow, and the Walker's angry muttering."Oh no!" said Renn."But I helped him!" said Torak."Giving?" roared the Walker. In one hand' he brandished his knife; the other clutched Narik to his chest. "Do they think they can just give, and wander off? Do they think the Walker has forgotten the old ways?""Walker, we're sorry," said Torak, "but--""A gift looks for a return! That is the way of things! Now the Walker must give back!"Torak and Renn wondered what was coming next."Black ice," wheezed the Walker, "white bears, red blood! They seek the eye of the viper!"Torak caught his breath. "What's that?""Oh, he'll find out," said the Walker. "The foxes will tell him."41Suddenly he bent like a wind-snapped tree, and the look he gave Torak was wise, and fraught with such pain that it pierced Torak's souls. "To enter the eye," he breathed, "is to enter the dark! You may find your way out again, Wolf boy; but once you've gone in, you'll never be whole. It'll keep a part of you down there. Down in the dark."42FOURThe Dark crept over the Forest, but Wolf didn't even notice. He was caught in a Dark of his own: of rage and pain and fear.The tip of his tail ached where it had been stamped on in the fight, and his forepaw hurt from the bite of the big, cold claw. He couldn't move at all, because he was squashed onto a strange, sliding tree, which the taillesses were dragging over the Bright Soft Cold. He couldn't even move to lick his wounds. He was flattened beneath a tangled deerhide that was pressing down on him hard. It was unlike any hide he'd ever encountered. It had lots of holes in it, but somehow it managed to be stronger43than an auroch's leg bone.The growls inside him were fighting to get free, but more hide was tangled around his muzzle, so he couldn't let them out. That was the worst of it: that he couldn't growl or snap or howl. It hurt to hear Tall Tailless howling for him and not be able to howl back.Sharp and small inside his head, Wolf saw Tall Tailless and the female, running after him. They were coming. Wolf knew that as surely as he knew his own scent. Tall Tailless was his pack-brother, and a wolf never abandons his packbrother. ,But would Tall Tailless be able to find him? He was smart, but he wasn't at all good at finding, because he wasn't a normal wolf. Oh, he smelled of wolf (as well as lots of other things besides), and he talked like a wolf, even if he couldn't hit the highest yips. And he had the light silver eyes, and the spirit of a wolf. But he moved slowly on his hind legs, and was very bad
at catching scents.Suddenly the sliding tree shuddered to a halt. Wolf heard the harsh bark of tailless talk; then the crunch of the Bright Soft Cold as they began to dig their Den.Behind him on the tree, the otter woke up, and started a piteous mewing. On and on she went, until Wolf wanted to shake her in his jaws to make her stop.He heard a tailless approaching from behind. He was too squashed to turn and see, but he caught the smell of44fish. The otter stopped mewing, and started making scrunching noises. That was a relief.A few lopes ahead, the Bright Beast-that-Bites-Hot snarled into life. Wolf watched the taillesses gather around it.They bewildered him. Until now, he'd thought he knew their kind. At least, he knew the pack that Tall Tailless ran with, the pack that smelled of ravens. But these--these were bad.Why had they attacked him? Taillesses are not the enemies of wolves. The enemies of wolves are bears and lynxes, who sneak into Dens to kill wolf cubs. Not taillesses.Of course, Wolf had met some bad ones before now; and even the good ones sometimes growled and waved their forepaws when he got too close to their meat. But to attack without warning? No true wolf would do this.Straining ears and eyes and nose, Wolf watched the bad pack crouch around the Bright Beast. He swiveled his squashed ears to listen, and sniffed, trying to sort their tangled smells.The slender female smelled of fresh leaves, but her tongue was black and pointed as a viper's, and her sideways smile was as empty as a carcass pecked by ravens.The other female, the big one with the twisted hind legs, was clever, but Wolf sensed that she was unsure of her place in the pack, and unsure of herself. On her45overpelt lay a patch of stinking fur. It was the fur of the strange prey which had lured him into the trap.The last in the pack was a huge male with long, pale fur on his head and muzzle, and breath that reeked of spruce-blood. He was the worst, because he liked to hurt. He'd laughed as he'd trodden on Wolf's tail, and cut his pad with the big, cold claw.It was this pale-pelt who now rose on his hind legs and came toward Wolf.Wolf gave a muffled growl.Pale-Pelt bared his teeth, and brought his big claw close to Wolf's muzzle. Wolf flinched.Pale-Pelt laughed, lapping up Wolf's fear.But what was this? Wolf's muzzle was free! Pale-Pelt had cut his muzzle free!Wolf seized his chance and lunged--but the deerhide held him back, and he couldn't get his jaws around it to bite through it.Here came the other one, the big twisted female with the stinking fur.Pale-Pelt jabbed at Wolf again, but Stinkfur growled at him. Pale-Pelt stared hard, to let her know who was leader, then stalked off.Crouching beside Wolf, Stinkfur pushed a scrap of elk meat through a hole in the deerhide.Wolf ignored it. Did these taillesses think he was46stupid? Did they think he was a dog, who would take meat from anyone?Stinkfur threw up her forepaws, and walked away.Now the viper-tongued female left the Bright Beast, and came over to Wolf. Squatting on her haunches, she talked softly to him.Without wanting to, he listened. Her voice reminded him a little of the female who was Tall Tailless's pack-sister, whose talk was sharp and clever, but gentle underneath. As he listened to the viper-tongued female, he smelled that she was not afraid of him--that she was curious.He flinched as she reached her forepaw toward him, but she didn't touch him. Instead, he felt coldness on his flank. His whiskers quivered. She was smearing his pelt with elk blood!The smell was so muzzle-wateringly delicious that it drove all else from his head. After much struggling, he twisted around and started to lick.He knew it Was odd that the female had done this, and something in her voice made him wary, but he couldn't stop. The blood-lust had him in its grip, and already the strength of the elk was loping through his limbs. He went on licking.Wolf was becoming very tired. There was black fog in his head, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. He47felt as if a great stone were crushing him.Through the fog he heard the soft, sly laugh of the viper-tongued female, and knew that she had tricked him. The elk blood she'd fed him had been bad, and now he was sinking into the Dark.The fog grew thicker. Fear seized him in its jaws. With the last twitch of his mind, he sent a silent howl to Tall Tailless.48FIVEAre you scared?" said Torak. "Yes," said Renn. "Me too."They stood at the edge of the Forest, beneath the last--the very last--tree. Before them stretched an empty, white land beneath an endless sky. Here and there a stunted spruce withstood the onslaught of the wind, but that was the only sign of life.They were now as far north as any of the Forest clans had been, except for FinKedinn, who as a young man had journeyed into the frozen lands. In the two days since meeting the Walker, they'd crossed three valleys,49and glimpsed the distant glare of the ice river at the roots of the High Mountains--where, the winter before last, the Ravens had camped, and Torak had gone in search of the Mountain of the World Spirit.They stood with the north wind in their faces, staring at the trail of Wolf's captors: a brutal knife slash through the snow."I don't think we can do this on our own," said Renn. "We need help. We need Fin-Kedinn.""We can't go back now," said Torak. "There isn't time."She was silent. Since their encounter with the Walker, she'd been unusually subdued. Torak wondered if she too had been thinking about what the old man had said. Twisted legs and flying thoughts... the sideways one... big as a tree... It had raised echoes in his mind: echoes of Fin-Kedinn, speaking of the Soul-Eaters. But he couldn't bring himself to mention them out loud. It couldn't be them. Why would they have taken Wolf, and not him?So in the end, all he said was, "Wolf needs us." Renn didn't reply.Suddenly he was gripped by the fear that she would turn around and leave him to continue on alone. The fear was so intense that it left him breathless.He watched her brush the snow off her bow, and settle it on her shoulder. He braced himself for the worst.50"You're right," she said abruptly. "Let's go." Without a backward glance, she left the shelter of the trees.He followed her into the empty lands.As soon as they left the Forest, the sky pressed upon them, and the north wind scoured their faces with snow.In the Forest, Torak had always been aware of the wind--as a hunter he had to be--but apart from storms, it was never a threat, because the power of the Forest kept it in check. Out here, nothing could hold it back. It was stronger, colder, wilder: a malevolent, unseen spirit, come to harass these puny intruders.The trees became smaller and sparser, until they shrank to an occasional knee-high willow or birch. Then--nothing. No green thing. No hunters. No prey. Only snow.Torak turned, and was shocked to see that the Forest had dwindled to a charcoal line on the horizon."It's the edge of the world," said Renn, raising her voice above the wind. "How far does it go on? What if we fall off?""If the edge of the world is out there," he said, "Wolf's captors will fall off first."To his surprise, she gave him a sharp-toothed grin.The day wore on. The snow was firmer than in the Forest, so they didn't need their snowshoes, but the51north wind blew it into low, hard ridges, which kept tripping them up.Then, abruptly, the wind dropped. Now it was blowing softly from the northeast.At first it was a relief. Then Torak realized what was happening. He couldn't see his feet. He was standing in a river of snow. Around his calves, long, ghostly streams were flowing like smoke, obliterating the trail."The wind's covering the tracks!" he shouted. "It knows we need them, so it's destroying them!"Renn ran ahead to see if the trail was any clearer. She threw up her arms. "Nothing! Not even you could find it!"As she ran back to him, he saw her expression, and his heart sank. He knew what she was going to say, because he'd been thinking it himself. "Torak, this is wrong! We can't survive out here. We've got to go back.""But people do live here, don't they?" he insisted. "The Ice clans? The Narwals, the Ptarmigans, the White Foxes? Isn't that what Fin-Kedinn said?""They know how. We don't.""But--we have dried meat and firewood. And we can find our way by the North Star. We can bind our eyes with wovenbark to keep out the glare, and--and there is prey out here. Willow grouse. Hare. That's how Fin-Kedinn managed.""And when the wood runs out?" said Renn.52"There's that willow he talked about, the kind that only grows ankle high, but you can still--""Can you see any willow out here? It's buried under snow!"Her face was pale, and he knew that behind what she said lay a deeper dread. The clans whispered stories about the Far North. Blizzards so powerful, they carried you screaming into the sky. Great white bears that were bigger and fiercer than any in the Forest. Snowfalls
that buried you alive. And Renn knew about snowfalls. When she was seven summers old, her father had ventured onto the ice river east of Lake Axehead. He'd never come back."We can't do this on our own," she said.Torak rubbed a hand over his face. "I agree. At least, for tonight. We should make camp."She looked relieved. "There's a hill over there. We can dig a snow cave."He nodded. "And then I'm going to do what it takes to find the trail.""What do you mean?" she said uneasily.He hesitated. "I'm going to spirit walk."Her mouth fell open. "Torak. No.""Listen to me. Ever since we saw that raven, I've been thinking about it. I can spirit walk in a bird, I'm sure of it. I can go high in the sky, see far into the distance. I can see the trail!"53Renn folded her arms. "Birds can fly. You can't.""I wouldn't have to," he said. "My souls would be inside the bird's body--say it's a raven--I'd see what the raven sees, I'd feel what it feels. But I'd still be me."She walked in a circle, then faced him. "Saeunn says you're not ready. She's the Clan Mage. She knows." "I did it last summer--""By accident! And it hurt! And you couldn't control it! Torak, your souls could get stuck inside; you might never get out! Then what happens to your body? The one that's lying on the snow, with only its world-soul keeping it alive?" Her voice was shrill, and there were two spots of color on her cheeks. "You'd die, that's what! I'd have to sit in the snow and watch you die!"He couldn't argue with her, because everything she said was true. So he said, "I need you to help me find a raven. I need you to help me loosen my souls. Are you going to help me or not?"54SIXFirst," said Torak, "we've got to attract a raven." He waited for Renn to comment, but she was hacking out the snow cave, making it plain that she wanted no part of this."I spotted a nest at the edge of the Forest," he said. Her axe struck, and chunks of snow flew. "It's a daywalk away," he added, "but they may come foraging out here. And I brought bait." She stopped in midswing. "What bait?" From his pack he pulled a squirrel. "I shot it yesterday. While I was filling the waterskins." "You planned this," she said accusingly.55He glanced at the squirrel. "Um. I thought I might need it."Renn resumed her attack on the snow, hitting harder than before.Torak laid the squirrel twenty paces from where the shelter would be--so that, once his name-soul and clan-soul had left his body, they wouldn't have far to go, to get into a raven. Well, that was the hope. He didn't know if it would work, because he didn't know anything about spirit walking. Nobody did.Drawing his knife, he slit the squirrel's belly, and stood back to study the effect."That's not going to work," called Renn."At least I'm trying," he retorted.She wiped her forehead on the back of her mitten. "No, I mean, you're doing it wrong. Ravens are too clever to be fooled by that; they'll think it's a trap.""Oh," said Torak. "Yes, of course.""Make it like a wolf kill. That's what they look for, a kill."He nodded, and set to work.Renn forgot about disapproving, and helped. They used her shoulder-bone scraper to chop up the squirrel's liver, mixed it with snow, and spattered this around to resemble blood. Then Torak cut off a hind leg and tossed it to one side, "so that it'll look as if a wolf trotted away to eat in peace."56Renn studied the "kill." "Better," she said.The shadows were turning blue, and the wind had gone into the north, leaving a light breeze wafting snowflakes over the carcass. Torak said, "The ravens will be flying home to roost. If they come, it won't be before first light."Renn shivered. "It doesn't seem possible, but according to Fin-Kedinn, there are white foxes out here, so we'll have to stay awake to keep them off the carcass.""And we can't have a fire, or the ravens will smell it."Renn bit her lip. "You do know that you can't have anything to eat? To go into a trance, you need to fast."Torak had forgotten that. "What about you?""I'll eat when you're not looking. Then I'll make the paste for loosening your souls.""Do you have what you need?"She patted her medicine pouch. "I gathered a few things in the Forest."His lip curled. "You planned this."She didn't smile back. "I had a feeling I might need to."The sky was darkening, and a few stars were glinting. "First light," murmured Torak. It was going to be a long night.Torak huddled in his sleeping-sack, and tried to stop shivering. He'd been shivering all night, and he was sick57of it. Peering through the slit in the snow cave, he saw the half-eaten moon shining bright. Dawn wasn't far off. The sky was clear-and ravenless.In one mitten he clutched a scrap of birch bark containing Renn's soul-loosening paste: a mixture of deer fat and herbs, which he was to smear on his face and hands when she gave the word. In the other he held a small rawhide pouch fastened with sinew. What Renn called a "smoke-potion" smoldered inside. He'd asked what was in it, but she'd said it was better not to know, and he hadn't insisted. Renn had a talent for Magecraft, which for reasons she never went into she tried to ignore. Practicing it put her in a bad mood.His belly rumbled, and she nudged him with her elbow. He refrained from nudging back. He was so hungry that if a raven didn't come soon, he'd eat the squirrel.A thin scarlet line had just appeared in the east, when a black shape slid across the stars.Again, Renn nudged him."I see it," he whispered.A smaller shape glided after the first: the raven's mate. Wingtip to wingtip, they wheeled over the kill-- then flew away.Some time later, they came back for another pass, flying a little lower. At the fifth pass, they flew so low that Torak heard their wingbeats: a strong, rhythmic wsh wsh wsh.58He watched their heads turn from side to side, scanning the land below. He was glad he'd buried the gear beside the snow cave, which Renn had made into a featureless mound, with only a slit for air and observation. Ravens are the cleverest of birds, with senses sharp as grass.Yellow fire spilled over the edge of the world, but still the ravens circled, spying out the "kill."Suddenly one folded its wings and dropped out of the sky.Torak slipped off both mittens, to be ready.Silently the raven lit down on the snow. Its breath smoked as it stared at the shelter. Its wingspan was wider than Torak's outstretched arms, and it was utterly black. Eyes, feathers, legs, claws; like the First Raven herself, who woke the sun from its winter sleep, and was burned black for her pains.This raven, however, was more interested in the squirrel, which it approached at a cautious, stiff-legged walk."Now?" mouthed Torak. Renn shook her head.The raven gave the carcass a tentative peck. Then it hopped high in the air, landed--and flew off. It was checking that the squirrel was really dead.When the carcass didn't move, both ravens flew down. Warily they walked toward it.59"Now!" mouthed Renn.Torak smeared on the paste. It had a sour green smell that stung his eyes and made his skin prickle. Then he unfastened the pouch and sucked in the smoke-potion."Swallow it all," Renn whispered in his ear, "and don't cough!"The smoke was bitter, the urge to cough almost overwhelming. He felt Renn's breath on his cheek. "May the guardian fly with you!"Feeling sick, he watched the big raven tug at the frozen innards. A sharp pain tugged at his own insides-- and for a moment he felt a surge of panic. No, no, I don't want to ...... and suddenly he was tugging at the squirrel's guts with his powerful beak, slicing off delicious tatters of frozen meat.Swiftly he filled his throat pouch, then pecked out an eye. Enjoying its slippery smoothness on his tongue, he hitched his wings and hopped onto the wind, and it bore him up, up into the light.The wind was freezing and unimaginably strong, and his heart swelled with joy as it carried him higher. He loved the coldness rippling under his feathers, and the smell of ice in his nostrils, and the wind's wild laughter screaming through him. He loved the ease with which he rode upward, twisting and turning with the merest60tilt of his wings--he loved the power of his beautiful black wings!A slippery wsh--and his mate was at his side. As she folded her wings and rolled off the wind, she gave a graceful twitch of her tail, asking him to sky-dance. He slid after her and locked his icy talons in hers, and together they drew in their wings and dived.Through the streaming cold they sped, through a blur of black feathers and splintered sun, exulting in their speed as the great white world rushed up to meet them.Of one accord they unlocked their talons, and he snapped open his wings and struck the wind, and now he was soaring again, soaring toward the sun.With his raven eyes he could see forever. Far to the east, the tiny speck of a white fox trotted through the snow. To the south lay the dark rim of the Forest. To the west he saw the wrinkled ice of the frozen Sea. To the
north: two figures in the snow.With a cry he sped off in pursuit.Cark? called his startled mate.He left her, and the white land flowed beneath him.As he drew nearer, he swooped, and in an instant that burned into his mind forever, he took in every detail.He saw two figures straining to haul a sled. He saw Wolf strapped to the sled, unable to move. As he strained to catch the least twitch of a paw, the smallest flicker that61would tell him that Wolf was still alive, he saw the bigger man pause, pull his parka over his head and loosen the neck of his jerkin to let out the heat. He saw the blue-black tattoo on the man's breastbone: the three-pronged fork for snaring souls. The mark of the Soul-Eater.From his raven beak came a horrified croak. The Soul-Eaters. The Soul-Eaters have taken Wolf.He flew higher, and the sun blinded him. The wind gave a furious twist, and threw him off.His courage cracked like thin ice.The wind screamed in triumph.A sharp pain pierced his insides--and he was Torak again, and he was falling out of the sky.62SEVENTorak woke in the blue gloom of the snow cave with the wind's angry laughter ringing in his ears.Renn was kneeling over him, looking scared. "Oh, thank the Spirit! I've been trying to wake you all morning!""All--morning?" he mumbled. He felt like a piece of rawhide that had been pummeled and scraped."It's midday," said Renn. "What happened? You were breathing in snow, and your eyes had turned up inside your head. It was horrible!""Fell," he said. With each breath, pain stabbed his ribs, and every joint screamed. But his limbs still63obeyed him, so no broken bones. "Do I--bruises?"She shook her head. "But souls get bruises too."He lay still, staring at a droplet about to fall from the roof. The Soul-Eaters had taken Wolf."Did you see the trail?" said Renn.He swallowed. "North. They headed north."She sensed that he was keeping something back. "As soon as you went into a trance," she said, "the wind blew up. It sounded angry.""I was flying. I wasn't supposed to."The drop landed on Renn's parka and lost itself in the fur: like a soul falling to earth."You shouldn't have done it," she said.Raising himself painfully on one elbow, Torak peered through the slit. The wind was blowing softly, but the ghostly snow-fingers were back."I don't think it's finished with us," said Renn.Torak lay down again, and drew his sleeping-sack under his chin. The Soul-Eaters had taken Wolf.He couldn't bring himself to tell her--at least, not yet. If she knew, she might insist that they go back to the Forest for help. She might leave.He shut his eyes."But Who are the Soul-Eaters?" he'd once asked Fin-Kedinn. "I don't even know their names.""Few do," Fin-Kedinn had replied, "and they don't speak of them."64"Do you know?" Torak had demanded. "Why won't you tell me? It's my destiny to fight them!""In time" was all the Raven Leader would say.Torak couldn't make him out. Fin-Kedinn had taken him in when his father was killed; and long ago, Fa and he had been good friends. But he rarely spoke of the past, and only ever revealed what he thought Torak needed to know.So now all Torak knew was that the Soul-Eaters had plotted to rule the Forest. Then their power had been shattered in a great fire, and they'd gone into hiding. Two of the seven had since met their deaths-- and thus, under clan law, couldn't be mentioned by name for the next five winters. One of them had been Torak's father.Deep in his chest, Torak felt the familiar ache. Fa had joined them to do good; that was what Fin-Kedinn had told him. That was what Torak clung to. When they'd become evil, Fa had tried to leave, and they'd turned on him. For thirteen winters he'd been a hunted man, raising his son apart from the clans, never mentioning his past. Then, the autumn before last, the Soul-Eaters had sent the demon bear that killed him.Now they'd taken Wolf.But why Wolf, and not Torak? Why, why, why? He fell asleep to the moaning of the wind.***65Someone was shaking him, calling his name."Wha?" he mumbled into a mouthful of reindeer fur."Torak, wake up!" cried Renn. "We can't get out!"Awkwardly he sat up as far as the low roof would allow. Beside him, Renn was struggling not to panic.The slit in the shelter was gone. In its place was a wall of hard-packed snow."I've been digging," she said, "but I can't break through. We're snowed in. It must have drifted in the night."Torak noticed that she said "it drifted," rather than "the wind did this, burying us while we slept." "Where's my axe?" he said.Her face worked. "Outside. They're both outside, where we left them. With the rest of our gear." He took that in silence."I should have brought them inside," said Renn."There wasn't room." "I should've made room. I should've thought.""You were taking care of me; it's not your fault. We've got knives. We'll dig ourselves out."He drew his knife. Fin-Kedinn had made it for him last summer: a slender blade of reindeer shinbone, slotted with leaf-thin flakes of flint. It wasn't meant for digging in wind-hardened snow. Fa's blue slate knife would have been better; but Fin-Kedinn had warned Torak to keep it hidden in his pack. He regretted that now.66"Let's get started," he said, trying to sound calm.It was frightening, digging a tunnel with no idea how far they had to go. There was nowhere to put the hacked-out snow except behind them, so no matter how hard they worked, they remained trapped in the same cramped hole. The dripping walls pressed in, and their breath sounded panicky and loud.After they'd moved about an arm's length, Torak put down his knife. "This isn't working."Renn met his eyes. Her own were huge. "You're right. A drift like this, it could go on for ... We might never break out."He saw the effort she was making to stay calm, and guessed that she was thinking of her father. He said, "We'll dig upward instead."She nodded.It was much harder, digging up. Chunks of snow fell into their eyes and down their necks, and their arms ached savagely. They worked back to back, trampling the snow beneath their boots. Torak clenched his jaw so hard that it hurt.Gradually the snow above him began to turn a warmer blue. "Renn! Look!"She'd seen it.Feverishly they hammered with their knife-hilts. Suddenly it cracked like an eggshell;--and they were through.67The glare was blinding, the cold burned their lungs. They stood with upturned faces, gaping like baby birds, then scrambled out and collapsed on the snow. A faint breeze chilled their sweat-soaked hair. The wind was gone.Torak gave a shaky laugh.Renn lay on her back, staring into nothingness.Sitting up, Torak saw that their shelter had been buried beneath a long, sloping hill that hadn't existed the night before. "Our gear," he said. "Where's our gear?"Renn scrambled to her feet.Apart from their knives and sleeping-sacks, everything they needed: bows, arrows, axes, food, firewood, waterskins, cooking-skins--everything--lay buried somewhere under the snow.With exaggerated calm, Torak brushed off his leggings. "We know where the shelter is. We'll dig a trench around it. Sooner or later, we'll find it." But he knew as. well as Renn that if they didn't find their gear before dark, they might not survive another night. This one mistake could be the death of them.After so much effort digging up, it was a bitter blow to have to dig down; and as soon as they started, the wind returned, gusting snow about them in blinding, choking clouds.Torak was beginning to lose hope when Renn gave a shout. "My bow! I've found my bow!"68It was late afternoon by the time they found everything, and by then they were exhausted, drenched in sweat and ragingly thirsty."We should dig in," panted Renn, "wait till dawn.""We can't," said Torak. The need to go after Wolf was overwhelming."I know," said Renn. "I know."After eating a little dried meat and draining their waterskins, they tied strips of wovenbark over their eyes to keep out the glare--uncomfortably aware that they should have done this earlier--and set off, heading north by the sun, which was getting low.Torak's head was throbbing, and he was stumbling with fatigue. He had an uneasy sense that they shouldn't be doing this--that they weren't thinking straight--but he was too tired to figure it out.The wide plains gave way to steep hills and dizzying blue ridges of windblown snow. In places, these formed precarious overhangs that reared above them like monstrous, frozen waves. And always the north wind blew. Angry. Vengeful. Unappeased.In the shifting snow, it became hard to judge distances. It didn't feel as if they'd walked far, but when Torak crested a hill and glanced back, he saw that the Forest was gone.A savage gust punched him in the back and he fell, rolling all the way to the bottom.69Renn floundered after him. "Should've used your axe to break your fall," she mumbled as she helped him up. His axe had been stuck in his belt; there'd been no time to pull it out.From then on, they walked with axes in
hand.They'd been tired when they set off, but now every step was an effort. Thirst returned, but they'd run out of wood for melting snow. They knew they shouldn't try eating it, but they did anyway. It blistered their mouths and gave them cramps. And still the wind blew: pelting their faces with tiny darts of ice until their cheeks cracked and their lips bled.We don't belong here, Torak thought hazily. Everything's wrong. Nothing's as it should be.Once, they heard the gobbling of willow grouse, startlingly close, but when they searched, the birds had vanished.Another time, Renn saw a man in the distance, but when they reached him, he turned out to be a pile of rocks, with fluttering strands of hair and hide tied to his arms. Who had made him, and why?Their sweatsoaked jerkins chilled them to the bone, and snow froze to their outer clothes, making them heavy and stiff. Their faces burned, then turned numb. Something the Walker had said surfaced in Torak's memory. First you're cold, then you're not.... What came after that?70Renn was tugging his sleeve, pointing at the sky. He swayed.Purple-gray clouds were boiling up from the north."Storm!" she shouted. "Keep together!" Already she was dragging a coil of rawhide rope from her pack. They'd been in a snowstorm before, and knew how easy it is to get separated."We've got to dig in!" she yelled as she struggled to tie one end of the frozen rope about her waist."Where?" he shouted, tying his end clumsily about him. The land had turned flat again."Down!" she shouted. "Dig down! A snow hole!" She stamped up and down, feeling for firmer snow-- and suddenly it broke beneath her, and she was gone."Renn!" shouted Torak.The rope at his waist snapped taut, yanking him forward. He threw himself back, dug in his heels. He couldn't see anything--just churning white chaos--but he could feel her weight on the rope, dragging him down.Struggling, slipping, he slid inexorably forward-- and toppled ... a few paces onto a pile of broken snow.The snow heaved. It was Renn. They sat up, badly shaken, but unhurt.Craning his neck, Torak saw that they'd gone through an overhang. Without knowing it, they'd been walking on a fragile crust over thin air.For Renn, this was the last arrow that brought down71the auroch. "I can't go on!" she cried, striking the snow with her fists."We have to dig in!" yelled Torak. But he knew it was hopeless. He barely had the strength to lift his axe.With one final, wild burst of pride, he staggered to his feet and shouted at the wind. "All right, you've won! I'm sorry! I'll never dare fly again! I'm sorry!"The wind screamed. Terrible shapes flew at him through the snow. A twisting column whirled toward him, then blew apart....Suddenly the snow seemed not to blow apart, but to draw together: thousands of tiny flakes meeting, coalescing, to form a creature unlike any he'd ever seen.It had the staring eyes of an owl, and it flew toward him through the whiteness. Before it surged a silent pack of dogs.Torak was too exhausted to be frightened. It's over, he thought numbly. I'm sorry, Wolf. Sorry I couldn't save you.He sank to his knees as the owl-eyed creature bore down upon him.72EIGHTThe owl-eyed creature bellowed a command, and the dogs skidded to a halt. Whipping out a long, curved knife, it started hacking a snow hole with astonishing speed. In moments, Torak and Renn were seized and thrown in, and a wall of snow was yanked down on top.After the fury of the wind, the rasp of breath was loud in the gloom. Torak heard the creak of frozen hide; caught a rancid smell that was oddly familiar. He couldn't see Renn--the creature had leaped in between them--but he was too wretched to care.To his surprise he found that he wasn't cold anymore; he was hot. First you're cold, he thought, then73you're not. Then you're hot, then you die.He found that he liked death. It was beautifully warm and soft, like the pelt of a great white reindeer. He wanted to draw it over his head and snuggle down deep.....Someone was shaking him. He moaned. Owl eyes stared into his, jolting him back from his lovely warm death.He made out a ruff of snow-caked fur framing a round face purpled by frost. Ice crusted the brows and the short black beard. The flat nose had a dark band tattooed across it, which Torak didn't recognize. He just wanted to go back to death.The creature snarled. Then it plucked out its eyes.Torak saw that the owl eyes were thin bone discs on a strap. The man's real eyes were permanently slitted against the glare. Swiftly he yanked back the sleeve of his parka, took out a flint knife, and cut a vein in his stocky brown forearm. "Drink!" he barked, pressing the wound to Torak's lips.Salty-sweet heat filled Torak's mouth. He coughed, and swallowed blood. Strength and warmth coursed through him: real warmth, not the false heat of frostbite. With it came pain. His face was oh fire. Burning needles pierced his joints.In the gloom, he heard Renn. "Leave me 'lone! Want to sleep!"74Now the man was chewing something. He spat a gray lump into his hand, and pushed it between Torak's teeth. "Eat!"It was rancid and oily, and he recognized the taste. Seal blubber. It was wonderful.The man smeared more chewed blubber over Torak's face. At first it hurt--the man's palm was rough as granite--but amazingly- soon, the pain faded to a bearable throb."Who are you?" mumbled Torak."Later," grunted the man, "when the wind's anger is spent.""How long will that be?" said Renn."One sleep, many, who knows? Now no more talk!"Torak is twelve summers old, and Fa has been dead for nearly half a moon.Torak has just killed his first roe buck, and to keep Wolf quiet while he's skinning it, he's given him the hooves; but the cub has tired of playing with them, and trots over to poke his muzzle into what Torak is doing.Torak is washing deer gut in the stream. Wolf grabs the other end in his jaws and tugs. Torak tugs back. Wolf goes down on his forepaws and lashes his tail. A game!Torak bites back a smile. "No, it isn't a game." Wolf persists. Torak tells him firmly in wolf talk to let go--and the cub obeys so promptly that Torak topples backward75into the water. Wolf pounces, and now they're splashing about, and Torak is laughing. His father is still dead, but he's no longer alone. He's found a pack-brother.When he gets to his feet, the stream is frozen. Winter has the Forest in its grip. Wolf is full-grown, and trotting off through the glittering trees--trotting off with Fa."Come back!" shouts Torak, but the north wind carries his voice away. The wind is so strong that he can hardly stand, but it has no power to touch Wolf or Fa. Not a breath stirs Fa's long black hair; not a whisper ruffles Wolf's silver fur."Come back!" he cries. They can't hear him. Helplessly he watches them walk away through the trees.He woke with a start. His chest ached with loss. His cheeks were stiff with frozen tears.He was huddled in his sleeping-sack. His clothes were damp inside, and he was so cold that he was beyond shivering. Sitting up, he saw that he was no longer in the snow hole, but in a domed shelter made of blocks of snow. On a flat stone lamp, a sludge of pounded blubber burned with a low orange flame. Above it hung a seal's bladder of melting ice. Judging from the stillness outside, the storm had blown over. The strange man had gone."I had a terrible dream," muttered Renn beside him. Her face was scabbed and blistered; there were dark smudges under her eyes.76"Me too," he said. His face felt sore, and it hurt to talk. "I dreamed that Wolf--"The strange man crawled into the shelter. He was short and stocky, and his seal-hide parka made him look even stockier. Throwing back his hood, he revealed a flat face framed by short dark hair, with bangs across his brow. His eyes were black slits of distrust. "You're from the Far South," he said accusingly."Who are you?" countered Torak."Inuktiluk. White Fox Clan. I was sent to find you.""Why?" said Renn.The White Fox man tossed his head. "Look at you! Your clothes are sopping wet! Don't you know it's not snow that kills, but wet? Here. Get out of them and into these." He tossed them two hide bundles.They were so cold that they didn't argue. Their limbs were as useless as sticks, and it took forever to get undressed. The bundles turned out to be sleeping-sacks of silvery seal fur, each lined with an inner sack of soft birdskin, with the feathers on the inside. These were so warm that they felt better almost at once; but Torak realized with alarm that the White Fox man had disappeared, taking their clothes with him. Now they were completely in his power."He left us some food," said Renn. She sniffed a strip of frozen seal meat.Still in his sleeping-sack, Torak shuffled to the wall,77and peered through a crack.What he'd taken for the roof of the snow hole in which they'd sheltered overnight was in fact a large sled, which now stood upright. Its runners were the jawbones of a whale, its crossbars the antle
rs of reindeer. A tangled harness disappeared into a smooth white hillock, and into five other hillocks a little farther off. From the middle of each came a thin wisp of steam.Inuktiluk whistled, and the hillocks erupted into six large dogs. They yawned and wagged their tails as they shook off the snow, and Inuktiluk batted away their noses as he untangled their harnesses and checked their paws for ice cuts.With her thumbnail, Renn pried a shred of meat from between her teeth. "The Walker said 'the foxes' would tell us how to find the Eye of the Viper. Maybe he meant the White Foxes."Torak had thought of that too. "But can we risk it?" he said. He wanted to trust Inuktiluk, but he'd learned the hard way that a man can do kind things and still hide a rotten heart."You're right," said Renn. "We won't tell him anything. Not till we know we can trust him."Inuktiluk was turning their clothes inside out, and laying them on the sled. They froze in moments, and he beat the ice from them with the flat of his snow-knife. Then he fetched meat and tossed it to the dogs.78Five were full-grown, but the sixth was a puppy of about five moons. Its pads hadn't yet toughened, and it wore rawhide paw-boots; it squealed with pleasure as Inuktiluk flipped it onto its back, to check that they were securely fastened.Torak thought of Wolf, and the dream returned to darken his spirit. He told Renn about it. Then he said, "Wolf was with Fa, and Fa is dead. So was it Fa's spirit who sent the dream? Was he telling me that Wolf is dead too?""Or maybe," said Renn, "it wasn't your father's spirit that dreamed to you, but Wolf's. Maybe he's asking you for help.""But he must know that we're coming for him." She looked unhappy.He was wondering if now was the time to tell her about the Soul-Eaters, when Inuktiluk returned."Get dressed," he said sternly.Their clothes were drier, but uncomfortably cold. It didn't help that Inuktiluk watched them with evident disapproval. "You're much too thin. To survive on the ice, you need to be fat! Don't you even know that? Everything in the north is fat! Seals, bears, people!" Then he asked them what names they carried.They exchanged glances. Renn told him their names and clans.Inuktiluk seemed startled to learn that Torak was79Wolf Clan. "That makes it worse," he murmured."What do you mean?" said Torak.Inuktiluk frowned. "We won't talk of it here.""I think we must," said Torak. "You saved our lives, and we're grateful. But please. Tell us why you were looking for us."The White Fox man hesitated. "I'll tell you this. Three sleeps ago, one of our elders went into a trance to watch the night fires in the sky, and the spirits of the Dead sent her a vision. A girl with red willow hair, like the World Spirit in winter; and a boy with wolf eyes." He paused. "The boy was about to do a great evil. That's why I had to find you. To stop you from bringing evil to the people of the ice.""I haven't done anything wrong," Torak said hotlyInuktiluk ignored that. "Who are you? What are you doing here, where you don't belong?"When they didn't answer, he rolled up the sleeping-sacks and headed out. "Rub more blubber on your faces, and bring the lamp. We're leaving.""Where?" said Torak and Renn together."Our camp.""Why?" said Renn. "What are you going to do to us?"Inuktiluk looked offended. "We're not going to harm you--that's not our way! We'll just give you better gear, and send you home."80"You can't make us go back," said Torak.To his surprise, Inuktiluk burst out laughing. "Of course I can! I've got all your gear strapped to my sled!"After that, they had no choice but to follow him outside.He'd already put on his owl-eyed visor, and now he tossed them each a pair. Then he snatched up a supple hide whip fully twenty paces long, and at once the dogs began howling and lashing their tails, eager to be off."Why is the sled pointing west?" said Renn uneasily."That's where our camp is," said Inuktiluk. "On the sea ice, where the seals are.""West?" cried Torak. "But we've got to go north!"Inuktiluk turned on him. "North? Two children who know nothing of the ways of the ice? You'd be dead before the next sleep! Now get on the sled!"81NINEThe north wind howled over the white hills, and blasted the hunched spruce trees on the plains. It whistled through the northern reaches of the Forest, and whipped up the snow on the banks of the Axehandle, where the Raven Clan had pitched camp. It would have woken Fin-Kedinn--except that he was already awake. Since the Willows had given him Torak's message, he'd barely slept.Someone has taken Wolf. We're going to get him back. "But to rush off without thinking," said the Raven Leader. With a stick he stabbed the fire that glowed at the entrance to his shelter. "Why didn't he come82back and seek help?""Why didn't the girl?" said Saeunn in her raven's croak. Without blinking, she met his look of pure blue anger. She was the only member of the clan who dared brave his displeasure.They sat in silence, while above them the wind did its best to waken the Forest. The Raven Mage tented her robe over her bony knees, and stretched her shrunken claws to the fire.Fin-Kedinn gave it another stab--and a dog, who'd been thinking about trying to slip inside, put back his ears and slunk off to find another shelter."I didn't think he'd be so reckless," said Fin-Kedinn. "To head for the Far North ."How do you know he has?" said Saeunn.He hesitated. "A Ptarmigan hunting party saw them in the distance. They told me this morning."Thoughtfully, Saeunn stroked her spiral amulet with a fingernail as ridged and yellow as horn. "You want to go in search of them. You want to find your brother's child and bring her back."The Raven Leader rubbed a hand over his dark-red beard. "I can't risk the. safety of the clan by leading them into the Far North."Saeunn studied him with the icy dispassion of one who has never felt affection for any living creature. "And yet you want to."83"I've just said that I can't," he replied. He threw away the stick, suppressing a wince. The wind had woken the old wound in his thigh."Then be done with it," said Saeunn, shrugging her shoulders like a raven hitching its wings. "The girl has shown herself to be willful and stubborn; I can do no more with her. As for the boy, he has allowed his-- feelings'"
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