Chronicles of Ancient Darkness Part 158

'Feel what?'

'Down there in the smoke. Something terrible.'

'I can't see anything.'

'Neither can I. But I feel them.'

Renn felt them too. There was more in the Whispering Cave than Eostra and her minions.

'It's the smoke,' she breathed. 'It's part of the spell. Don't look.'

But Dark couldn't tear his eyes away. Neither could she.

The Soul-Eater broke off her chant. Blackness descended on the cave. In the silence, she spoke.

Subtle as snake, the seducer . . .

Seshru . . . Come forth!

Renn's flesh crawled.

The cave seemed to fill with a thin, echoing hissss.

This can't be, Renn told herself. It cannot be.

As she watched, the smoke swirled to form a sinuous shape . . .

No. Seshru is dead. Your mother is dead. You put the Death Marks on her. You watched them lay her body to rest.

The chanting resumed. After an endless time, it broke off again. Once more, the fire dimmed.

. . . Narrander . . . Come forth!

From the far side of the cavern, a man's voice rang out. 'Narrander comes.'

Renn caught her breath. She knew that voice.

'Your spell is flawed,' it declared. 'It holds the hair of a living man.'

No answer from Eostra.

'Who is he?' said Dark.

Renn didn't reply. The past was coming together like pack ice as she watched the man emerge from the shadows.

The eagle owl swooped towards him. He warded it off with his axe. His gait was unsteady. Tattered hides flapped about his scrawny limbs. Renn knew that if she were closer, she would see a tangled beard glistening with slime. A filthy, one-eyed face as rough as bark.

The seventh Soul-Eater. He had hinted as much at their first encounter. Before the flint bit him, he was a wise man . . .

'Narrander died,' rasped Eostra from the smoke. 'He died in the great fire.'

'Another died!' bellowed the Walker. 'He should have lived! The Walker ends it now!'

'None can hinder the Masked One.'

The Walker roared and threw himself at the rockpile but before he could reach it, he lurched to a halt. The chasm was too wide. He couldn't get across. 'He should have lived!' His howl filled the cave with pain.

Suddenly, Renn saw the small, hunched figures clinging to the rocks above his head. Desperately, she took aim. Dark loaded his slingshot.

They lowered their weapons. The tokoroths were way out of range.

'Above you!' shouted Renn and Dark together.

The Walker glanced up as the first rock struck. He sank to his knees. Another rock hit. He fell to the ground at the edge of the chasm. His axe dropped from his hand, and a moment later there came a distant splash. The Walker lay without moving. Renn had never hated Eostra as much as she did then.

'I see Torak!' hissed Dark. Pulling her sideways, he pointed and at last she saw him.

Torak was halfway up the pillar round which the pack prowled. He was tied by the waist, his head sunk on his chest. He wasn't moving.

'Torak!' screamed Renn.

No response.

He must be either stunned or spirit walking. She refused to believe that he was dead. Clenching her jaw, she got ready to shoot. How many dogs? Six? Seven? And only three arrows.

A brindled beast leapt at Torak's bare foot. Renn's bow sang. The dog fell with a gurgling yowl and an arrow through its throat.

Beside her, Dark let fly with his slingshot. A grey brute fell and did not stir again. Dark killed another with a stone that split its skull; Renn shot one in the chest. It staggered backwards into the chasm, its yowls dying to nothing.

Two dogs streaked across the cavern, disappearing into a tunnel as if they'd scented prey. The remaining dog circled Torak's perch. A tokoroth appeared at its base and began to climb, a knife clamped between its teeth. Renn nocked her final arrow and took aim. Her hands shook. The creature was a demon, but it had the body of a child.

A stone whistled through the air. The tokoroth fell with a shriek, clutching a broken shin. Grimly, Dark reloaded his slingshot, but the tokoroth dragged itself into the shadows.

Peering into the haze, Renn sought another target. The smoke was too thick. Its fumes reached into her mind. She pictured the Masked One gloating over the fire-opal. None can hinder Eostra.

Renn set down her bow. So. This was not to be won with arrows.

Something of Saeunn's uncompromising will stiffened her resolve. You are a Mage, she told herself. Think like one.

Your spell is flawed, the Walker had said. It holds the hair of a living man.

Renn went still. She peered at the cord which netted the fire-opal. It seemed to be braided with different-coloured threads. She caught glints of black, russet, gold . . .

Hair. Eostra had snared the spirits of the Soul-Eaters with their own hair. She had woven it into this cord which now bound the fire-opal, this cord which bound the dead Soul-Eaters to her just as, with Torak's hair, she meant to bind his world-soul and take his power.

'Torak!' shouted Renn. 'Cut the cord!'

Trapped in the Soul-Eater's marrow, Torak struggled to break free. His spirit was tiring. Eostra was too strong.

From a great distance, he heard someone shouting. It sounded like Renn. It couldn't be.

For an instant, the shouting distracted Eostra. Torak felt her will waver. It was enough. He seized his chance.

His eyes snapped open. He was back in his body. Someone was still shouting.

'Cut the cord that binds the fire-opal! Torak! Cut it and you'll break the spell! You'll send them away for ever!'

It was Renn. He couldn't see her, but he saw one of her arrows, jutting from the throat of the brindled dog.

The cord. Strength coursed through him. He knew what to do.

Swiftly, he untied himself and slid down the pillar. A dog sprang from the murk. He thrust his knife in its belly and ripped. Kicking the carca.s.s aside, he jabbed at the dark. No tokoroths, no dogs; though he heard the snarls of a savage fight. With his free hand he grabbed a stone and staggered towards the rockpile. Renn was right, there was a way. The spell could be broken, the Soul-Eaters banished for ever. Why, then, was Eostra undeterred?

Once again, the fire was quenched and her chanting ceased. Through the drifting smoke, she spread her wings and summoned the last of the Unquiet Dead.

Wise as the wolf, the wilful one . . .

No! Torak tried to shout, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Helpless, he heard the Soul-Eater call the beloved name he hadn't spoken out loud for three summers.

For a moment there was silence.

The cave seemed to echo with the howls of unseen wolves. Behind the altar, smoke danced and drew together. A tall figure began to take shape.

Torak dropped his knife with a clatter. 'Fa.'

THIRTY-SEVEN.

The figure in the smoke was as faint as moon-shadow on a cloudy night but Torak knew. He knew as he stood gazing up at his father.

'Fa it's me. Torak.'

The dead white eyes stared down at him without recognition. His father's spirit belonged to Eostra.

Somewhere, Renn was shouting. 'Cut the cord! Send them away for ever!'

Send Fa away? Away for ever?

He couldn't do it. He was twelve summers old: bewildered, terrified, watching his father bleed. Fa, don't die. Please don't die.

Tears slid down his cheeks as he stumbled towards the rockpile.

'Cut the cord!' shouted Renn.

'I can't,' Torak whispered. 'Fa . . . I can't lose you all over again.'

He began to climb.

He heard the rattle of bones and the chant of the Soul-Eater. He felt a sudden sharp pain at the back of his scalp, and saw the owl fly off with a lock of his hair in its talons. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except reaching Fa.

He stood in the bitter haze before the altar. Behind it the Masked One chanted, surrounded by the shadowy throng of the Unquiet Dead. He stretched out his hand towards his father. The figure in the smoke did not respond.

A vision flashed across Torak's mind of what might have been if Fa had lived: if they were still together, and the fire-opal had never existed. Grief twisted in his heart like a knife.

But the fire-opal did exist. There it was in the mace, throbbing like an open wound.

With a cry, Torak reached across the altar, seized the mace, and dragged it towards the flames.

The Soul-Eater's grip was stone. He couldn't do it. With her other hand she raised her spear to strike. Torak lashed out with his rock. The spear clattered to the floor. A tokoroth fastened its jaws on his forearm. Renn's wrist-guard protected him. Again he brought down the rock, crushing the creature's skull like an eggsh.e.l.l. Still gripping the mace, he fought the Soul-Eater across the flames. He caught the glitter of her eyes behind the mask. He gave a desperate wrench and dashed the mace into the fire. Choking on the stink of burning hair, he raised the rock and shattered the fire-opal to b.l.o.o.d.y shards.

With a shriek, Eostra plunged both hands into the flames, clawing out the fragments and holding them up. The last shreds of burning hair curled and shrivelled to nothing.

The Unquiet Dead began to disintegrate. Through a mist of tears, Torak watched his father fade.

But in the final moment, the smoke face changed. It became Fa as he had been when he was alive, and it lit up as he saw his son. 'Torak . . .' he murmured, as quiet as a sleeping breath.

Then he was gone.

Torak stood shaking before the altar. Some part of him knew that Eostra still held the fragments of the fire-opal. Some part of him heard her beginning to chant.

Eostra summons the spirit walker Eostra binds him to her!

Far away, Renn was screaming a warning. 'Torak! Behind you!'

THIRTY-EIGHT.

'Behind you!' screamed Renn. She was ready to shoot, but the tokoroth kept slipping into shadow, dragging its broken leg.

Torak appeared to come to himself at last. He saw the tokoroth crawling up the rockpile. He saw Eostra brandishing the fragments of the fire-opal and lifting her free hand to the owl which swooped towards her with the lock of his hair in its talons.

In the blink of an eye, the tokoroth sprang. Torak seized its arms and flung it bodily over his head. It came on again, relentless. They grappled, moving too fast, Renn couldn't get a clear shot. Beside her, Dark gripped his slingshot. Torak threw the tokoroth upon the altar. It twitched as its spine snapped and slid off, dead.

Two black shapes came racing from the shadows, up the rockpile towards Torak. Renn and Dark let fly at the dogs. They hit the same target. The stricken creature scrabbled at the edge of the chasm, and fell with a howl. Torak turned and seemed to see the chasm for the first time. The other dog sprang.