Chronicles of Ancient Darkness Part 64

He caught a flicker of movement. Renn pushing up her visor to take aim. 'Don't,' he warned. 'You'll only make it worse.'

She saw that he was right, and lowered her bow. But she kept the arrow nocked in readiness.

The dogs were barking and snapping at their traces. The bear twisted its head on its long neck, and snarled: a deep, reverberating thunder that shook the ice.

It locked eyes with Torak and the world fell away. He couldn't hear the dogs, couldn't see Renn or Inuktiluk, couldn't even blink. Nothing existed but those eyes: blacker than basalt, stronger than hate. As he gazed into them he knew he knew that to the ice bear, all other creatures were prey.

His hand on the harpoon shaft was slippery with sweat. His legs wouldn't move.

The bear champed its great jaws, and slammed the ice with its paw. The force of the blow shuddered through Torak. Somehow he stood his ground.

A Forest bear snarls if it means only to threaten; but if it's hunting in earnest, it comes on in lethal silence. Did the same hold true on the ice?

No.

The ice bear leapt for him.

He saw the scarred black hide of its muzzle, the long, purple-grey tongue. He felt hot breath burning his cheek . . .

With fearsome agility the bear swerved reared and pounded the ice with both forepaws.

Torak's knees buckled and he nearly went down.

Now the ice bear was turning from him, rounding on the sled, clouting it out of the way as easily as if it were birch bark. Inuktiluk dived to one side, Renn to the other but as the sled crashed down, it caught her on the shoulder and she fell with a cry, one arm trapped beneath a runner, directly in the path of the bear.

Torak launched himself forwards, waving his harpoon and yelling, 'Here I am! Not her, me! Me!'

Inuktiluk, too, was shouting and making stabbing feints with his harpoon and in the instant the bear turned towards him, Torak wrenched the sled off Renn and grabbed her arm, half-dragging her out of its path. At that moment, one of the dogs snapped its trace and flew at the bear. A great paw batted it away, sending it flying through the air, to land with a sickening crack on the ice. As Torak and Renn threw themselves down, the bear leaped clean over them, bounded to the seal's carca.s.s and s.n.a.t.c.hed its head in its jaws. Then it raced off across the ice, carrying the seal as easily as if it were a trout.

'The dogs!' shouted Renn. 'Hold them!'

The puppy was cowering under the sled, but the others were reckless in their blood-l.u.s.t and hampered only by their traces and now, as they strained together, they snapped them and hurtled off in pursuit, ignoring Inuktiluk's shouted commands. The trailing traces snagged his boot, and Torak and Renn watched in horror as he was dragged across the ice.

The dogs were strong and fast, too fast to catch. Torak put his hands to his lips and barked: the loud, sharp command that in wolf talk means: STOP!

His voice cut like a whiplash, and the dogs obeyed at once, cowering with their tails clamped between their legs.

Far away, the ice bear vanished among the blue hills.

Torak and Renn ran to where Inuktiluk was already sitting up, rubbing his forehead.

He recovered fast. Grabbing the traces in his fist, he drew his knife and with its hilt, dealt the dogs punishing blows that made them squeal. Then, breathing hard, he nodded his thanks to Torak.

'We should thank you,' Renn said shakily. 'If you hadn't distracted it . . .'

The White Fox shook his head. 'We only lived because it let us live.' He turned to Torak. The distrust was back in his face. 'My dogs. You can speak to them. Who are you? What are you?'

Torak wiped the sweat off his upper lip. 'We need to get going. That bear could be anywhere.'

Inuktiluk studied him for a moment. Then he gathered his remaining dogs, shouldered the body of the dead one, and limped back to the sled.

Torak dropped his harpoon with a clatter, and bent double with his hands on his knees.

Renn rubbed her shoulder.

He asked if she was all right.

'Hurts a bit,' she said. 'But at least it's not my draw arm.

What about you?'

'Fine. I'm fine.' Then he sank to his knees and started to retch.

The sinking sun burned golden on the dark-blue ice as the dogs flew towards the White Fox camp.

Night fell. The slender moon rose. Torak kept glancing at the sky, but not once did he catch sight of the First Tree: the vast, silent green fires that show themselves in winter. He longed for it as never before; he needed some link with the Forest. But it didn't come.

They pa.s.sed dark, fanged ice hills, and heard distant cracks and groans. They thought of demons hammering to break free. At last, Torak spotted a speck of orange light. The weary dogs scented home, and picked up speed.

As they neared the White Fox camp, Torak saw a large, humped snow shelter with three smaller ones linked to it by short tunnels. All were honeycombed with light shining through the blocks. Around them, many little humps sprang to life, scattering snow and barking a noisy welcome.

Torak stepped stiffly from the sled. Renn winced and rubbed her shoulder. They were too numb with exhaustion to feel apprehensive of what lay ahead.

Inuktiluk insisted that they beat every flake of snow from their clothes and even pick the ice from their eyebrows, before crawling into the low entrance tunnel that was built like a dog-leg to keep out the wind. On hands and knees, Torak smelt the bitter stink of burning seal oil, and heard a murmur of voices, abruptly cut short.

In the smoky lamplight, he saw whalebone racks around the walls with many boots and mittens hung up to dry; a glittering haze of frozen breath; and a circle of round faces glistening with blubber.

Swiftly, Inuktiluk told his clan how he'd found the interlopers in the storm, and everything that had happened since. He was fair he mentioned that Torak had saved him from being dragged across the ice but his voice shook when he told how the "wolf boy" had spoken the tongue of dogs.

The White Foxes listened patiently, asking no questions, and studying Torak and Renn with inquisitive brown eyes not unlike those of their clan-creature. They didn't seem to have a leader, but four elders huddled close to the lamp, on a low sleeping-platform piled with reindeer hides.

'It's them,' shrilled one, a tiny woman, her face dark as a rosehip shrivelled by frost. 'These are the ones I saw in my vision.'

Torak heard Renn's sharp intake of breath. Placing both fists on his heart in sign of friendship, he bowed to the old woman. 'Inuktiluk said that in your vision, you saw me about to do evil. But I haven't. And I won't.'

To his surprise, laughter ran through the shelter, and all four elders gave toothless grins.

'Who among us,' said the old woman, 'knows what evil we will or won't do?' Her smile faded, and her brow furrowed with sadness. 'I saw you. You were about to break clan law.'

'He wouldn't do that,' said Renn.

The elder didn't seem annoyed at this interruption; she merely waited to see if Renn had finished, then turned back to Torak. 'The fires in the sky,' she said calmly, 'never lie.'

Torak was bewildered. 'I don't understand! What was I going to do?'

Pain tightened the ancient face. 'You were about to take an axe to a wolf.'

THIRTEEN.

'Attack Wolf?' cried Torak. 'I'd never do that!'

'I saw it too,' Renn blurted out. 'In my dream, I saw it!' She couldn't help herself. But as soon as she'd said it, she wished she hadn't.

Torak was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. 'I could never hurt Wolf,' he said. 'It isn't possible.'

The White Fox elder spread her hands. 'The Dead don't lie.'

He opened his mouth to protest, but the old woman spoke first. 'Rest now, and eat. Tomorrow we send you south, and this evil will pa.s.s.'

Renn thought he'd fight back, but instead he went quiet, with that stubborn look which always meant trouble.

The White Foxes bustled about, taking food from niches cut in the walls. Now that their elders had spoken, they seemed happy to prepare a feast, as if Torak and Renn had simply happened by for a night of storytelling. Renn saw Inuktiluk regaling the others with the tale of how the ice bear had stolen his seal, which made everyone roar with laughter. 'Don't worry, little brother,' someone cried, 'I managed to hang onto mine, so we still get to eat!'

'Why didn't you tell me?' said Torak. His face was taut, but she could see that beneath his anger he was badly shaken.

'I was going to,' she said, 'but then you told me about your dream, and '

'Do you really believe I could hurt Wolf?'

'Of course not! But I did see it. You had an axe. You were standing over him, you were going to strike.' All day she'd carried the dream inside her. And it wasn't the everyday kind which didn't always mean what it appeared to; it was the kind with the glaring colours, which she had maybe once every thirteen moons. The kind which came true.

Someone pa.s.sed her a chunk of frozen seal meat, and she discovered that she was ravenous. As well as the seal, there was delicate whale skin with a chewy lining of blubber; sour pellets of ground-up willow buds from the gizzards of ptarmigans; and a delicious sweet mash of seal fat and cloudberries, her favourites. The shelter rang with talk and laughter. The White Foxes seemed extremely good at forgetting their worries and enjoying themselves. But it was disconcerting to have Torak sit beside her in glowering silence.

'Arguing won't help us find Wolf,' she said. 'I think we need to tell them about the Eye of the Viper '

'Well I don't.'

'But if they knew, they might help.'

'They don't want to help. They want to get rid of us.'

'Torak, these are good people.'

He turned on her. 'Good people can smile, and be rotten inside! I know, I've seen it!'

She stared at him.

'I can't lose him again,' he said. 'It's different for you. You've got Fin-Kedinn and the rest of your clan. I've only got Wolf.'

Renn blinked. 'You've got me too.'

'That's not the same.'

She felt the heat rising to her ears. 'Sometimes,' she said, 'I wonder why I even like you!'

At that moment, a stout woman called her to come and try on her new clothes and she left without a backwards glance.

His words were ringing in her ears as she crawled through a tunnel into a smaller shelter where four women sat sewing. It's different for you. No it isn't! she wanted to shout. Don't you know that you and Wolf are the first friends I've ever had?

'Sit by me,' said the woman, whose name was Tanugeak, 'and calm down.'

Renn threw herself onto a reindeer skin and started plucking out hairs.

'Anger,' Tanugeak said mildly, 'is a form of madness. And a waste of strength.'

'But sometimes you need it,' muttered Renn.

Tanugeak chuckled. 'You're just like your uncle! He was angry too, when he was young.'

Renn sat up. 'You know Fin-Kedinn?'

'He came here many summers ago.'

'Why? How did you meet him?'

Tanugeak patted her hand. 'You'll have to ask him.'

Renn sighed. She missed her uncle terribly. He would know what to do.

'These visions of yours,' said Tanugeak, examining Renn's wrist. 'They can be dangerous, you should have lightning marks for protection. I'm surprised your Mage hasn't seen to that.'

'She wanted to,' said Renn, 'but I never let her.'

'Let me. I'm a Mage too. And you'll need them, I think. You carry a lot of secrets.' Turning to a woman who sat apart from the others, she asked for her tattooing things. Then, without giving Renn time to protest, she laid her forearm on her ample lap, stretched the skin taut, and began swiftly p.r.i.c.king it with a bone needle, pausing to dip a sc.r.a.p of gull hide in a cup of black dye, and rub it into the punctures.

It hurt at first, but Tanugeak kept up a stream of stories to keep Renn's mind off it. Soon her anger slipped away, leaving only the worry that Torak might do something stupid, like trying to escape without her.

She felt safe in here. On the sleeping-platform, three children slept in a heap, like puppies. Over the blubber lamp, a baby dangled in a seal's bladder snugly stuffed with moss. The women chatted and laughed, spangling the air with specks of frozen breath; only the one who sat apart, Akoomik, kept silent.

As the drowsy peace stole over her, Renn felt cared for in a way she'd never experienced before: as if the p.r.i.c.kly sh.e.l.l she'd grown to protect herself were being gently peeled away.

Tanugeak started on the other wrist, and the women laid out Renn's new clothes, stroking them with weathered brown hands.

There were outer leggings and a parka of shimmering silver sealskin, to which someone had sewn her clan-creature feathers. There was a warm jerkin and inner leggings of eider duck hide, with the soft feathers worn against the skin. There were under-mittens of hare fur, and st.u.r.dy outer mittens; ptarmigan-down slippers, to be worn over fluffy stockings made from the pelts of young seals. And to keep out the wet, there were magnificent boots of dehaired seal-hide, with criss-cross bindings of braided sinew, and finely pleated soles.

'Beautiful,' murmured Renn. 'But I've nothing to give you in return.'

The women looked astonished, then laughed. 'We don't want anything in return!' said one.

'Come back in the Dark Time,' said another, 'and we'll make you a set of winter clothes. These are just for spring!'