Chronicles of Ancient Darkness Part 39

'And did she teach you Magecraft?'

'No,' said Torak. 'I'm a hunter, like my father. He taught me hunting and tracking, not Magecraft.'

Again Tenris met his eyes and this time Torak felt the full force of his intelligence, like a shaft of strong sunlight piercing clouds.

Suddenly the Mage's face softened. He spoke to the Leader. 'He's telling the truth. He is our bone kin.'

The Leader squinted at Torak.

Bale shook his head in disbelief.

'Then you will help me?' said Torak. 'You will give me the cure?'

Tenris deferred to Islinn. 'It's for you to decide, Leader.' But he leaned over and whispered in the old man's ear.

Aided by Tenris and Bale, the Leader rose to his feet. 'Since you are kin,' he wheezed, 'we will deal with you as one of our own.' He paused to catch his breath. 'If one of us had broken the law, he would be made to appease the Sea Mother. So must you. Tomorrow you will be taken to the Rock, and left there for a moon.'

NINETEEN.

Torak is back at the edge of the Forest. The sun is shining, the Sea is a dazzling blue, and he's breathless with laughter as he rolls in the sand with Wolf.

An ecstasy of tail-wagging and flailing paws, of high twisting leaps! Wolf lands full on his chest and knocks him flat, covering his face with nibble-greetings; Torak grabs his scruff and licks his muzzle, telling him in low, fervent yip-and-yowls how much he's missed him.

Wolf has grown so much! His flanks and haunches are solid with muscle, and when he rears up and puts his forepaws on Torak's shoulders, they come head to head. But he's still the same Wolf. The same clear amber eyes and well-loved smell of sweet gra.s.s and warm, clean fur. The same mix of puppyish fun and mysterious wisdom.

Wolf gives him a rasping lick on the cheek, then races off across the sand; a moment later he's back, shaking a piece of seaweed in his jaws and daring Torak to s.n.a.t.c.h it . . . . . . and now the seaweed is floating in the cold Sea, and they are both struggling to stay alive. Wolf is terrified of deep water. He tilts his muzzle above the waves his ears flat back, his eyes black with terror. Torak tries to swim closer to rea.s.sure him, but his limbs are dream-heavy, and he only drifts further away.

Then, over Wolf's back, he sees the fin of the Hunter.

Wolf hasn't yet seen it; but he's closer, so it will take him first.

Torak tries to scream a warning but no sound comes. There is no escape. No land. Just the pitiless Sea, and the Hunter closing in for the kill.

Torak will not let it take Wolf. That is a certainty: as sure as the icy waves buffeting his face; as sure as his own name. There is no hesitation. He knows what he must do.

Taking a deep breath, he dives. He moves with agonising slowness, but manages to swim beneath Wolf, then up again, putting himself in the path of the Hunter. Now Wolf is behind him. Now Wolf will have a chance.

There is nothing between Torak and the tall black fin. He sees the silver wave curling back. He sees the great blunt head racing towards him through the green water. His heart swells with terror.

The Hunter's jaws open wide to swallow him . . .

Torak awoke with a shudder.

He was lying in a Seal shelter surrounded by slumbering people. His cheeks were wet with tears. He dashed them away. He longed to be back in the dream with Wolf. But Wolf was far away. And he, Torak, was destined for the Rock.

For a moment he lay staring into the gloom. Above him he saw the arching whale ribs that made the frame of the shelter, their seal-hide covering heaving gently in and out. The whale had swallowed him, after all.

Quietly he got up and made his way between the sleepers. Bale turned on his side and opened a wary eye, but let him pa.s.s. They both knew why. Where could he run to?

Torak stumbled out into the grey light. High above him, clouds poured over the peaks and flowed slowly down the cliffs. In the Seal camp nothing stirred, not even a dog.

Thirsty, Torak made his way along the bay to where the waterfall tumbled down the cliff and over a bed of boulders towards the Sea. Here the Bay of Seals was more lush than it had appeared last night. The gra.s.s was studded with yellow suncups and purple cranesbill, and the lower slopes of the cliffs were bright with rowan and birch.

Torak thought it cruel that the Seals should allow him the freedom to enjoy all this. He felt like a fish caught in a net: swimming about, but knowing it was trapped.

Kneeling by the stream, he cupped freezing water in his palm.

The Follower crouched on a boulder on the other side of the stream, watching him.

Torak froze. Icy water trickled through his fingers.

'What do you want?' he said hoa.r.s.ely.

The creature did not stir. Its tangled mane hid all but its claws, and the gleam of its eyes.

'Why are you following me?' cried Torak. 'What do you want?'

A shadow slid across the rocks towards him and he glanced up to see a gull swooping low. When he looked again, the Follower was gone.

With a cry he splashed across the stream but it had vanished among the boulders and juniper scrub.

He had not imagined it. When he stooped to examine the rock where it had been, he found scratch-marks in the lichen.

His thoughts raced. It had followed him across the Sea . . . 'Who were you talking to?' said a voice behind him, and he turned to see Bale staring suspiciously. 'You were talking to someone. Who?'

'n.o.body,' said Torak. 'I was talking to myself.'

Why had it followed him? And how had it got across the Sea?

Then he remembered Asrif's missing bundle of salmon skins. That must be it. While the Seal boys had been busy with their captive, the Follower had emptied one of the bundles and hidden inside. Torak hated to think of it so close, curled up in a skinboat . . .

'I don't believe you,' said Bale. 'If you were talking to yourself, why are you looking so guilty?'

Torak didn't answer. He looked guilty because he was. What if you've brought it back? Bale had said last night. He'd meant the sickness, not the Follower. But was there a difference?

Torak leapt to his feet and waded across the stream. 'Where's Tenris?' he said urgently. 'I've got to speak to him.'

Bale's blue eyes narrowed. 'Why? He's not going to help you.'

Torak ignored him. He'd had an idea. It was dangerous dealing with Mages always was but it might just keep him off the Rock. 'Where is he?' he said again.

Bale jerked his head towards the overhang that towered above the north end of the bay. 'On the Crag. But he won't want to talk to you.'

'Yes he will,' said Torak.

The track wound steeply up the flank of the mountain, and in places Torak had to scramble on hands and knees.

Breathless, he reached the top and found himself on a narrow neck of rock which broadened into a flat, boat-shaped promontory jutting over the Sea. In the middle stood a low slab of granite, roughly shaped in the likeness of a fish. On this lay a pile of Sea eggs. Beside it squatted the Seal Mage, murmuring under his breath.

'Mage,' panted Torak, 'I must talk to you!'

'Not so loud,' warned Tenris without looking up. 'And take care not to tread on the lines.'

Glancing down, Torak saw that the whole surface of the Crag was webbed with fine silver lines: not hammer-etched, but polished into the grey rock, and so smooth that neither lichen nor weather could take hold. Torak saw Hunters and fishes, eagles and seals: some chasing each other, some overlaid, as if eating one another; all dancing the endless dance of hunter and prey.

The Seal Mage rose with three Sea eggs cradled in his burnt hand, and began laying them out on the Crag. 'You've come to bargain for your life,' he said.

'Yes,' said Torak.

'But you've offended the Sea Mother.'

'I didn't mean to -'

'She doesn't care,' said Tenris, setting down a stone. Without turning round he said, 'Here, help me with this. Hand me the Sea eggs one by one.'

Torak opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. Together they moved about the Crag, Torak handing over the stones when the Mage held out his hand. Once, as they neared the edge, Torak caught a dizzying glimpse of the Sea far below.

'She looks calm today, doesn't she?' said Tenris, following his gaze. 'But do you have any idea how powerful she is?'

Torak shook his head.

With easy grace the Mage set down another stone, and at his belt the puffin beaks clinked softly. 'The man who killed the whale we feasted on last night had to cut off his hair to make amends for taking one of her children. He must live alone for three days without eating, or touching his mate. Only when the whale's souls have returned to the Mother can he come back.' He gestured at the Sea eggs at his feet. 'That's what I'm doing with these. Making a path to guide the souls.' He paused. 'What you need to understand, Torak, is that the ways of the Mother are far harsher, less predictable, than the ways of your Forest.'

From down below came the distant sound of voices. Glancing over the edge, Torak saw that the Seal camp was waking up. Bale was talking to two men, and pointing up at the Crag.

'Mage,' said Torak, 'there's something I have to -'

Tenris silenced him with a raised hand. 'She lives in the very deep of the Sea,' he murmured, 'and she is stronger than the sun. If she is pleased, she sends the seals and the fishes and the seabirds to be hunted. If she is angry she keeps them with her, and thrashes her tail to make storms. When she breathes in, the Sea sinks. When she breathes out, the tide comes in.'

He paused, gazing at the figures moving on the beach. 'She kills without warning, malice or mercy. Many winters ago, the Great Wave came out of the west. Only those who climbed to this Crag survived.' He turned to Torak. 'The power of the wind is very great, Torak; but the power of the Sea is unimaginable.'

Torak wondered why Tenris was telling him all this.

'Because knowledge is power,' said the Mage as if he'd heard his thoughts.

Torak glanced about him. 'Is this where you made the cure?'

To his surprise, Tenris gave a wry smile. 'I was wondering when you'd bring that up.'

Moving back to the altar rock, he took up a crab claw that had been lying on top, put it to his lips, and blew out a thin stream of aromatic blue smoke. 'With the cure,' said Tenris between puffs, 'it isn't where, but when. It can only be made on one night of the year. The most potent night of all. Can you guess which one?'

Torak hesitated. 'Midsummer?'

Tenris shot him a keen glance. 'I thought you didn't know Magecraft.'

'I don't. But Midsummer's my birthnight, so it was in my mind. And it's also the night of greatest change, and everyone knows that Magecraft -'

'- is about change,' said Tenris. Again he smiled. 'As indeed is life. Wood into leaf. Prey into hunter. Boy into man. You have a quick mind, Torak. I could have taught you much. It's a pity you're for the Rock.'

Torak seized his chance. 'That's what I need to tell you. I'm not I'm not going to the Rock.'

Tenris went still. In the bright morning light his burns were stark. 'What did you say?'

Torak caught his breath. 'I'm not going to the Rock. You're going to make the cure. And I'm going to take it back to -'

'I am going to make the cure?' repeated Tenris. The chill in his voice was like the sun going in. 'And why would I do that?'

'Because if you don't,' said Torak, 'your people will get sick too.'

He told Tenris about the Follower, and how it had reached the island. He told him of his belief that the Follower was a Soul-Eater spy, sent to cause the sickness. Tenris listened without saying a word, smoking his crab-claw pipe. It was impossible to tell what he felt, but Torak sensed the rapid current of his thoughts.

Apprehensively he watched the Mage circle the altar rock, then take up the final Sea egg and move towards him.

'Did you plan this?' said Tenris.

Torak was horrified. 'Of course not!'

'Because there's something you should know, Torak. I don't like tricks.'

'It wasn't a trick! I had no idea the Follower had crossed the Sea. Tenris, I'm only asking you to make the cure because -'

'"Only"?' Tenris cut in. 'This is not some potion I can simply ladle out of a pail! It took me three moons to perfect! I had to scale the Eagle Heights to find the selik root that grows nowhere else. I had to weave a spell on Midsummer night that no-one had attempted since the coming of the Wave!'

Torak licked his lips. 'Midsummer is only four days away.'

Tenris stared at him. 'You don't give up, do you?'

'I can't,' said Torak. 'The clans are sick.'

Tenris turned the Sea egg in his hand, and his eyes glinted dangerously. 'What's to stop me putting you on the Rock, and keeping the cure for the Seals?'

Torak opened his mouth, then shut it again. He hadn't thought of that.

'Learn from this, Torak,' warned Tenris. 'Never try to lock wills with a Mage. Especially not with me.'

Torak raised his chin. 'I thought Mages were supposed to help people.'

'What do you know about Mages? You're only a hunter.'

'The Ravens need you! So do the Otters and the Willows and the Boars, and for all I know, the other clans too! If you put me on the Rock, who will take the cure to the Forest?'