There was another command that she must dispatch tonight, the likes of which had not been seen since Queen Amina’s reign. It was a command bound for every corner of Meridina, and one that could not be written in ink. She would whisper her chosen words to Ebony and Ebony would fly to the deep forest, to the wild ravens who were the agents of the earth itself. Only these wildest of birds could seek out every living Whisperer in the kingdom and pass her message on.
It was a dark message for dark times.
A summons to a council of war.
CHAPTER 9
For Alice, the day passed in a whirl of desperate energy, every thought and movement made sharp by the shock of what had happened in the forest.
Moraine was gone.
And Hazel was gone, too, deep in the forest in desperate pursuit of her companion.
Alice had obeyed Moraine’s last wish and escorted the villagers home, she and Owen spreading word of the Narlaw strike. An emergency council meeting had been held, followed by a night of fortification and planning. Gates were reinforced, alleyways blocked. The villagers worked through the night and everybody who could lift a hammer was called into service by the elders; but Alice knew that these defences would not hold for long against a Narlaw attack. She had seen the demons move, witnessed their speed and agility, felt their terrifying strength.
So she had agreed another plan with the village elders: to head out in search of help from Soraya, Moraine’s old friend, at Blind Crag.
Alice spent the first dark hours of the night in Moraine’s study, searching through her mentor’s notes and belongings. Her sense of panic and loss only grew more intense. Loose pages cascaded to the floor and Alice struggled to steady her emotions as she scanned for the information that she needed. At last she found it, scrawled on the reverse side of an inventory of meadow flowers: Soraya and the Blind Crag. The directions were cryptic, intended for Moraine alone, but Alice knew the forest better than anyone. If Soraya could be found, then she would find her.
Outside, Storm was pacing listlessly. Moonlight fell between the trees and tipped her dark fur with flashes of silver.
I’ve got something, Alice said, waving Moraine’s notes. If we leave at dawn, we may be back here with Soraya before nightfall.
If she is still on the mountain, Storm replied. She snorted, agitated, still not herself after tasting the Narlaw flesh.
Alice nodded. There were too many factors yet unknown, too many ways in which they could falter. But one thing Alice did know: she could not banish the Narlaw alone.
They agreed to rest for what remained of the night and Alice curled up in her bed inside the cottage. She slept fitfully. Storm’s presence came and went throughout the night and Alice knew that her friend was patrolling, guarding her from what terrors might come at them from the forest. She dreamed of being a wolf, of running fast and free without rest and of howling into the vastness of the scent-filled sky.
At dawn Alice woke to find Storm at her bedside. She trailed a weary hand out of bed and Storm nuzzled in, her breath warm in the chill autumn air.
Side by side, Alice and Storm set off into the forest. The first of Moraine’s directions was simple: north-east to the third ridge. It was at least an hour’s walk from the cottage, so Alice set a brisk pace. Storm loped beside her, distracted and slow. All Alice could do was hope that the poisonous effects would wear off and that her companion would be back to normal soon. She needed Storm, and so did the village.
You were brave yesterday, Alice told her. Without you the villagers would never have made it to safety.
Storm snorted, narrowing her eyes. When the demons are gone from here, she said. Only then will anyone be safe.
Yes, said Alice. She ran her hand softly over her friend’s back.
The forest was eerily empty. The trees without birds or insects loomed deathly silent all around them. They went quickly, watching and listening, always ready for the approach of the demons.
They reached the base of the third ridge at midmorning. A stream meandered through the forest here, bending and looping around the steep contours of land. They followed, against the flow of water until it joined with another stream, one which tumbled noisily over fist-sized rocks.
The second of Moraine’s instructions repeated over and over in Alice’s head: Go north where the sage and ironweed grow.
Alice picked her way upstream, on the hunt for a clearing in the canopy. Sage grew best in the sunlight, and usually away from the wet riverside soil. But this didn’t help them much, as ironweed would grow virtually anywhere. All Alice could do was rely on Storm’s acute sense of smell.
It wasn’t long before Storm paused, sniffing the air.
There, she said, peering across the stream. Sage.
She splashed into the stream and Alice followed, drenching her boots in the cool water.
On the other side, Alice pushed her way through a dense wall of foliage. She heard Storm easily winding through ahead of her. Then she emerged into a small clearing, the sun slanting down on to a thick swathe of knee-high sage fronds, scattered throughout with the swaying blue flowers of the ironweed plant. Storm’s grey-black neck arched above the plants, proud yet still uneasy.
A path, she said. North.
It led uphill, away from the stream and on to the mountain.
For just a moment Alice let the sun settle on her face and breathed in the sage-scented air. Then she strode through the clearing, joining Storm on the northbound trail.
As they climbed higher into the foothills, the earth beneath their feet became stony and dry. Soon the forest thinned to almost nothing. Alice watched the sun approach its peak and felt its warmth on the back of her neck.
Moraine’s one remaining instruction referred to a scree slope, and every time Alice squinted up the mountainside she could see it: a bank of loose rock fragments, high and frighteningly steep.
Storm didn’t wait for her when they reached the base of the slope, bounding instead over the shards of rock as if it were solid ground.
Wait! Alice called, but Storm was gone.
There was nothing for it. Alice launched herself into the climb.
The scree slid away beneath her boots and at every step she slipped and sank. She dragged herself onwards with her hands, but whenever she stopped for breath she immediately began to slide backwards. The only thing she could do was carry on with the energy-sapping climb.
Slowly Alice ascended. The summit drew closer, a lip of rock that promised some sort of level ground. As she made the final few strides she reached out, but there was a tall step of sheer rock between her and the summit and she struggled to reach the top. Her fingers scraped the ledge and slipped back. Alice scrambled and grabbed hold, but there was no strength left in her arms. She couldn’t pull herself up.
Her feet scraped uselessly, sending an avalanche of scree down the slope. She glanced down. It was much higher than she’d thought. If she fell now, she would slide the whole way with nothing to stop her before she crashed into the jagged rocks below.
With one last thrust Alice tried to drag herself on to the ledge, but her muscles failed her. Her fingers were about to give out. She closed her eyes ready for the fall and opened her mouth to cry out. But before any sound escaped her, a shadow appeared above. Storm’s teeth flashed and Alice felt herself lifted by the collar of her coat. She grasped at the rock and rolled up on to solid ground, chest heaving, mouth working in silent thanks.
I forget you two-legged beasts are no good at climbing, Storm said.
Alice squinted up at her, still panting. Thanks, she said.
They were on a rocky plateau that wound along the crooked mountainside. Below them were the great forested foothills, and several miles away the village could be seen, the bell tower and festival tree standing out against the otherwise unbroken forest canopy. Above them the mountain rose to its craggy, snow-capped peak. It was a dizzying view.
Alice stood and scanned the plateau. It was a place of pric
kly shrubs, stunted trees and boulders. The mountainside was creased with fissures and openings of all sizes, some dry, some trickling with water.
According to Moraine’s notes, Soraya was here somewhere – if she was here at all.
Come on, said Alice. Let me know if you smell anything interesting.
Storm padded alongside her, examining these new surroundings with her keen eyes. She seemed more focused now the effects of the Narlaw were wearing off.
Alice let her Whisperer sense wander. She searched the recesses of the mountainside, the scrappy forest on the slopes below, all the while traversing the plateau with the sun now shining powerfully from the south.
They passed into a shaded area, where an immense rubble of boulders lay piled to twice the height of their cottage. The air became still. Then Storm suddenly stopped, her ears pointed forwards.
Alice peered ahead, probing with all her senses. Beyond the rocks the sun was blinding. She squinted, listening.
Storm’s ears twitched.
“Welcome,” came a quiet voice from behind them.
Alice spun and stumbled back towards Storm.
Storm growled, leaping to Alice’s side.
“No need for alarm,” the old woman said. Her sun-baked face creased into a smile. “Come. You must be thirsty.”
The woman turned and seemed to vanish between two boulders, down a path so narrow and shadowed that both Alice and Storm had missed it entirely as they had passed.
It’s her, whispered Alice.
Yes, Storm replied.
The woman’s presence hovered like a ghost in Alice’s consciousness.
Alice crept into the fissure and she and Storm trod carefully along a winding path that led up stone steps and over tiny trickling streams. Soon they arrived in a broad cave, into which several large openings spilled light and air, pushing the shadows back a good twenty paces into the mountain. Alice peered into the dark. There was no knowing how far back the cave reached, or what lurked there beneath so many tonnes of rock.
“Sit,” Soraya said.
She gestured to a ledge that had been draped with a variety of patterned textiles and laid with wooden cups and a water flask. The cave was furnished like a room in a simple cottage, the walls covered with faded tapestries, a fire pit in pride of place at the centre. There were woven charms hanging all around, like those Moraine made back in the forest. Alice could feel the power and the calm of this place.
As she perched on the ledge, she discreetly studied Soraya – this woman who had lived since the Narlaw Wars, a hundred years before Alice had even been born.
“Come, Storm,” Soraya said, gesturing with an open hand. “You should sit, too.”
“You know her name?” said Alice, as Storm approached the ledge.
“Of course. Moraine spoke proudly of you both.”
Alice nodded, thinking painfully of Moraine. Her restless gaze was drawn towards the darkness at the back of the cave. Did Soraya live here alone? Did she have a companion? Alice could not detect the presence of any other living thing.
She fooled us before, Storm whispered, sensing the direction of Alice’s thoughts.
Storm was right. Neither of them had felt Soraya’s presence as she had approached them on the mountainside.
The old woman set herself down carefully on an age-flattened rock, and with her small bright eyes she watched Alice take a drink of water. She seemed to be waiting for something.
“Moraine is gone,” Alice said. “There are Narlaw in the forest.”
Soraya dipped her head in a solitary nod. “History repeats itself,” she muttered thoughtfully. “The wards we set… Well, nothing lasts forever.” She looked up to meet Alice’s gaze. “So you came to me for help,” she said.
“The demons took some villagers, too,” said Alice. “I can’t banish the Narlaw on my own. Moraine tried to and…”
Her eyes began to sting. She turned away from Soraya, reaching out instinctively to Storm, who nuzzled into her hand. Alice forced back the tears, annoyed with herself. She hadn’t come all this way just to cry in front of a stranger.
“I see, child. I see.”
“We need your help,” Alice said. “If you’ve banished Narlaw before, you could save the village. And Moraine.”
Soraya rose and shuffled slowly into the centre of the sunlit cave. Alice felt a sudden stirring somewhere in the dark, a presence unfelt until now, something huge and old and slowly awakening. Was this Soraya’s companion? She wanted badly to know, but didn’t dare ask.
“I cannot leave this mountainside,” said Soraya. “I am old. Unnaturally so.” She turned and narrowed her eyes at the slanting sun. “If I leave I will certainly die. And then my only use is to the wild things who will feed on my body and return me to the bountiful earth.”
“But we need you,” Alice said.
If she and Storm returned to the village alone then all would be lost. She felt giddy with fear. Moraine had told her to come here, to ask for Soraya’s help. Surely all this could not have been for nothing?
“Do not despair, child.” Soraya came towards her and pressed her hands to Alice’s cheeks. They were cool and unexpectedly smooth. Her eyes shone like black diamonds.
You are a Whisperer.
The words blossomed silently in Alice’s mind.
There is nothing you cannot learn.
They sat together on the plateau, Alice and Soraya, in the full glare of the midday sun. Storm was behind them, higher up beside the cave mouth, watching.
“This,” Soraya said to Alice. “The forest. The mountain. The wild earth. It is rich with life. You are part of this one living world, and yet, like all beasts, you stand separate from it, too. Separate to observe and to think and act as you please. But few beasts possess the gifts that you do – or the depth of responsibility. Only a Whisperer may consciously commune with the earth. Only a Whisperer can sense the living things around her without use of sight or sound. And only a Whisperer can banish a demon to the Darklands. We are the guardians of it all, my child.
“You have been trained well by Moraine. She is strong and learned and she cares a great deal for the people of the mountain and for the forest itself. But you and she are very different.”
“I can’t concentrate like she can,” Alice said. “The earth trance… I almost held it yesterday, but it slipped away from me like it always does. If I can’t do that, how can I learn to banish the Narlaw?” Soraya smiled, her legs dangling from the rock she had perched upon, and Alice thought how childlike the ancient Whisperer was.
“There is more than one way to banish a demon,” Soraya said. “You must choose the way that is closest to your nature.”
Alice stared out over the vast forest. “My nature?”
“For you, the forest is never silent. You cannot block it from your mind and you refuse to relinquish your bond with Storm, not even for the purposes of the earth trance.”
“Is that what Moraine told you?”
Soraya shook her head. “It is what your presence here has told me.”
“So what should I do?”
“Where some would silence the world, you must reach out and open your senses to everything – the trees, the air, the insects and the birds, the tiny creeping things. You must hold on to Storm. And then you must go further. Embrace all that you can and the earth will join with you.”
“And the Narlaw?”
“The Narlaw will be a part of that embrace.”
Alice shivered as she remembered the foul, sickening presence. Reach out to the Narlaw? How could she manage such a thing?
“In a time of strife, there is no easy way,” Soraya said. “I was only a fraction older than you when the Narlaw came. I thought myself unready, unable to fight. But, like you, I was already a Whisperer. I had no choice but to play my part.”
She placed a gentle hand on Alice’s back.
“Will you try with me? There are no demons here. You have nothing to fear.”
; As the afternoon came and the sun scrolled across the sky, Alice sat above the great forest and tried to gather in the world.
Soraya whispered to her. Reach further, child. Feel for the treetops, touch the stones in the riverbed.
Alice pushed her senses as far as she could, and each time she thought she had reached her limit, Soraya found a way to stretch them further. The whole valley hovered within her grasp; every living thing was there. She felt the river water rushing over rocks and the air press against the wings of birds. She felt the creeping, skittering beasts of the forest like a shifting constellation of souls. She felt Soraya beside her and Storm above her on the spur of rock. And deep within the mountain she felt that other thing, the ancient presence freshly woken from its slumber.
She practised until her casting of this vast net was automatic, and swift as an adder’s strike. It was a rush of feeling like nothing she had known – more overwhelming, even, than the calm intensity of the earth trance.
You have embraced the living valley, Soraya whispered to her. The earth feels you. You have shown it this valley like an offering.
But there are no Narlaw here, Alice whispered.
No, Soraya replied. That is a challenge you are yet to face.
Alone.
Only a Whisperer can gather in the demons. You are the channel – the earth will act through you. If you are steadfast and fearless then it will banish them.
Alice let the valley go. The feeling rushed away and she sat experiencing the light and air and the rock beneath her through her five simple senses.
“You see now that you have strength,” said Soraya. “But you will need yet more. The demons slide through this world like quicksilver and will do everything to evade your touch. The chaos of battle will confuse things.”
“I wish you could come with me,” Alice said.
Soraya smiled. “So do I.” She glanced back at her mountain home. “But I must stay.”
A Whisper of Wolves Page 6
