Spirit Walker (2 page)

he muttered. Then he went inside the shelter--and Torak saw the raw patch behind his remaining ear where the hair had been yanked out: the thick honey-colored scab, like birch canker.

Torak felt a coldness settle inside him.
He raced down to the stepping-stones, where Oslak's younger brother squatted to clean his knife. "Thull!" he cried. "I think Oslak's sick!" His tale came out in a breathless jumble, and Thull wasn't impressed. "Torak, those are midge bites. It happens every summer, they drive him mad." "It isn't midges," said Torak.
"Well, he's fine now," said Thull, pointing at the walkway.
Sure enough, there was Oslak, crouching with a spear--and on the end of it, a wriggling salmon.
Biting his lip, Torak glanced about. It all seemed so
normal.

Children played with glittering handfuls of fish scales. Reckless young ravens teased the dogs by pecking their tails. Thull's son Dari, five summers old, splashed in the shallows with the pine-cone auroch that Oslak had made for him.

Filled with misgiving, Torak clutched his spear and waded in.
The stepping-stones were four boulders between
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the walkway and the rapids where beginners learned to keep their balance. Thull pointed to the first stone, but Torak made his way precariously to the fourth, placing himself midriver, and downstream from Oslak. He didn't know what he expected; only that he had to keep watch.

 

"Keep your eyes on the salmon," shouted Thull from the bank, "not on the water!"

Torak found that impossible. The rocks were slippery with lichen, and around him the green water boiled, with now and then a silver flash of salmon. The fishing spear was long and heavy, making it hard to balance. It had two barbed antler prongs for gripping and holding the fish--//"Torak caught any, which he hadn't in all previous attempts. When he'd lived with his father, he'd only fished with a hook and line. With a spear, as Sialot never tired of remarking, he was as clumsy as a child of seven summers.

He forced himself to concentrate. Stabbed with his spear. Missed. Nearly toppled in.
"Let them get
past
you before taking aim!" yelled Thull. "Catch them on their way down, when they're tired!"
Torak tried again. Again he missed.
From the smoking-racks came a hoot of laughter. Torak's face flamed. Sialot was enjoying this.
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"Better!" called Thull with more kindness than truth. "Keep at it! I'll come back later." He went off to feed the fires, leaving Dari in the shallows, crooning to his auroch. For a while Torak forgot everything as he strove to catch a fish without either dropping the spear or falling in. Soon he was soaked in spray. And the river was angry.
Every so often it hurled a huge wave against his rock.
Suddenly he heard a shout from the walkway. He jerked up his head--then breathed out in relief.
Oslak had speared another salmon. With one blow he killed it, then knelt to pull it off the spear.
He's all right, Torak told himself.
As he watched, Oslak scratched his hand. Then he reached behind his ear and clawed at the scab.
The salmon slithered off the walkway. Oslak bared his teeth, wrenched off the scab--and ate it.
Torak recoiled and nearly fell in.
The sun went behind a cloud. The water turned black. The discarded salmon slid past, glaring at him with a dull dead eye.
He shot a glance at the shallows.
Dari was gone.
Another cry from upriver.
He turned.
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Dari was on the walkway, tottering toward his uncle--who wasn't warning him back, but
beckoning.
"Come to me, Dari!" he shouted, his face distorted by a horrible eagerness. "Come to me! I won't let them take our souls!"
Chapter THREE
On the banks, none of the Ravens had seen what was happening. Torak had to do something.
As he stood on the stepping-stone gripping his spear, he saw two people emerge from different parts of the Forest.
From the east came Renn, her beloved bow in one hand, a brace of wood pigeons in the other.
From downriver came Fin-Kedinn, limping slightly and leaning on his staff, with a bundle of dogwood sticks over one shoulder.
In a heartbeat both grasped what was happening, and quietly set down their loads.
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To stop Oslak noticing them, Torak called out to him. "Oslak, what's wrong? Tell me. Maybe I can help."
"Nobody can
help!
shouted Oslak. "My souls are leaking out! Being
eaten!"

Now people turned to stare. Dari's mother leaped forward with a cry. Thull held her back. Oslak's mate Vedna jammed her knuckles in her mouth. On the Rock, Saeunn stood motionless.

Renn had reached the walkway--but despite his limp, Fin-Kedinn was there before her. Silently he handed her his staff.
"Who's eating your souls?" Torak called to Oslak.
"The
fish!"
Yellow froth flew from Oslak's lips.
'''Teeth!
Sharp teeth!" He pointed to where the thrashing salmon endlessly broke and remade his name-soul.
Torak felt a twinge of fear. That happened to everyone's name-soul if you leaned over the river, and it didn't do any harm-
unless
you were sick, when it could make you so dizzy that you fell in.
"Soon it will be gone," moaned Oslak, "and I will be nothing but a ghost! Come, Dari! The river wants us!"
The child hesitated--then moved toward him, clutching the pine-cone auroch to his chest.
Torak risked a glance at Fin-Kedinn.
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The Raven Leader's face was still as carved sandstone. Putting a forefinger to his lips, he caught Torak's eye.
You're between them and the rapids. Catch them.
Torak nodded, bracing himself on the rock. His feet were numb with cold. His arms were beginning to shake.
At last Dari reached Oslak, who tossed away his spear and snatched him up. The wicker sagged dangerously.
"Oslak," called Fin-Kedinn. His voice was low, but somehow he made himself heard above the rapids. "Come back to the bank."
"Get
away!"
screamed Oslak.

Torak saw to his horror that Oslak had tied a woven-bark rope to the poles supporting the end of the walkway: one hard pull, and the whole structure would go crashing down, taking him and Dari with it.

 

Torak couldn't bear it. "Oslak, this is me, Torak! Don't--"

 

Oslak turned on him. "Who are you to tell me what to do? You're not one of us! You're a cuckoo! Eating our food, taking our shelter! I've heard you sneaking into the Forest to howl for your wolf! We've all heard you! Why don't you give up? He's never coming back!"

Renn flinched in sympathy, but Torak didn't move. He'd seen what Oslak had not: Fin-Kedinn limping onto the walkway.
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At that moment Oslak swayed, and the wicker rocked.
Dari's mouth went square, and he began to howl.
Fin-Kedinn stood firm. "Oslak," he called.
Oslak lurched backward. "Stay
away!

Fin-Kedinn raised his hands to reassure him that he wasn't coming any closer. Then, as the clan watched in taut silence, he sat cross-legged on the wicker. He was six paces from the bank, and if Oslak pulled the rope, the walkway would collapse; but he looked as calm as if he were sitting by the fire. "Oslak," he said, "the clan chose me for Leader to keep it safe. You know that."

Oslak licked his lips.
"And I will," said Fin-Kedinn. "I will keep you safe. But put Dari down. Let him come to me. Let me take him to his mother."
Oslak's face went slack.
"Put him down," repeated Fin-Kedinn. "It's time for his nightmeal. . . ."
The power of his voice began to work. Slowly Oslak unwound the boy's arms from his neck and lowered him onto the wicker.
Dari gazed up at him as if seeking permission, then turned and crawled toward Fin-Kedinn.
Fin-Kedinn shifted onto one knee and reached for him.
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The pine-cone auroch slipped from Dari's fist and into the water. With a squeal Dari grabbed for it. Fin-Kedinn caught him by the jerkin and swept him into his arms. On the bank, the Ravens breathed out.
Torak's knees sagged. He watched the Raven Leader rise and edge sideways toward the bank. When he drew near, Thull grabbed Dari and held him tight.

On the walkway, Oslak stood like a stunned auroch. The rope slipped from his hand as he gazed at the churning water. Silently Fin-Kedinn went back for him and took him by the shoulders, speaking in words no one else could hear.

Oslak's body slumped, and he let Fin-Kedinn lead him to the bank--where men seized him and forced him down. He seemed puzzled, as if unsure how he'd got there. Torak found his way to the shallows, dropped his spear in the sand, and began to shake.
"Are you all right?" said Renn. Her dark-red hair was wet with spray, her face so pale that her clan-tattoos were three dark stripes on her cheeks. He nodded. But he knew she wasn't fooled.
Farther up the bank, Fin-Kedinn was speaking to Saeunn, who'd climbed down from the Rock. "What's wrong with him?" he said as the clan gathered around them. 24
The Raven Mage shook her head. "His souls are fighting within him."
"So it's some kind of madness," said Fin-Kedinn.
"Maybe," replied Saeunn. "But not a kind I've ever seen."
"I have," said Torak. Quickly he told them about the Boar Clan hunter.

As the Mage listened, her face grew grim. She was the oldest in the clan by many winters. Age had blasted her, polishing her scalp to the color of old bone, sharpening her features to something more raven than woman. "I saw it in the bones," she rasped. "A message. 'It is coming.'"

"There's something else," said Renn. "When I was hunting, I met a party of Willow Clan. One of them was sick. Sores. Madness. Terrible fear." Her eyes were dark as peat pools as she turned to Saeunn. "The Willow Clan Mage sends you word. He too has been reading the bones, and for three days they've told him one thing, over and over. 'It is coming.'"

People made the sign of the hand to ward off evil. Others touched their clan-creature skins: the strips of glossy black feathers sewn to their jerkins. Etan, an eager young hunter, stepped forward, his face perplexed. "I left Bera on the hill, checking the deadfalls. She had blisters on her hands. Like Oslak's. I did wrong to leave her, didn't I?"

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Fin-Kedinn shook his head. His face was unreadable as he stroked his dark-red beard, but Torak sensed that his thoughts were racing.

Swiftly the Raven Leader gave orders. "Thull, Etan. Get some men and build a shelter in the lime wood, out of sight of camp. Take Oslak there and keep him under guard. Vedna, you're not to go near him. I'm sorry, but there's no other way." He turned to Saeunn, and his blue eyes blazed. "Middle-night. A healing rite. Find out what's causing this."

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Chapter FOUR
The Mage's apprentice took an auroch-horn ladle and scooped hot ash from the fire. She poured it, still smoking, into her naked palm. Torak gasped.
The apprentice didn't even wince.

At her feet, Oslak clawed the dust, but the bindings held fast. He was strapped to a horse-hide litter, awaiting the final charm. Bera had already undergone it, and was back in the sickness shelter: screaming, sicker than ever.

The Raven Mage and her apprentice had tried everything. The Mage had daubed the sick ones'
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tongues with earthblood to draw out the madness. She had tied fishhooks to her fingers and gone into a trance to snare their drifting souls. She'd shrouded them in juniper smoke to chase away the worms of sickness. Nothing had worked.

 

Now a hush fell on the Ravens as she prepared for this final charm. Firelight flickered on their anxious faces.

 

It was a hot, clear night, with a gibbous moon riding high above the Forest. The wind had dropped, but the air was full of noises. The creak of the smoking-racks. The caws of the ravens in the gorge. The roar of the rapids.

The Mage stepped toward the litter, her bony arms reaching to the moon. In one hand she gripped her amulet; in the other, a red flint arrow. Torak darted a glance at the Mage's apprentice, but her face was a blank mask of river clay. She didn't look like Renn anymore.
"Fire to cleanse the name-soul,
" chanted Saeunn, circling the litter.
Renn squatted beside Oslak and trickled hot ash onto his naked feet. He moaned, and bit his lips till they bled.
"Fire to cleanse the clan-soul.
..."
Renn poured ash over his heart.
"Fire to cleanse the world-soul.
..."
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Renn smeared ash on his forehead.
"Burn, sickness, burn.
..."
Oslak screamed with fury, and spattered the Mage with bloody foam.
A ripple of dismay ran through the clan. The charm wasn't working.
Torak held his breath. Behind him the Forest stilled. Even the alders had ceased their fluttering to await the outcome.
He watched Saeunn touch the arrow to Oslak's chest, tracing a spiral.
"Come, sickness,"
she croaked.
"Out of the marrow
-
into the bone. Out of the bone
-
into the flesh...."
Suddenly Torak clutched his belly in pain. As the Mage chanted the words, something sharp had twisted inside him.
Slowly she drew the spiral over Oslak's heart.
"Out of the flesh
-
into the skin. Out of the skin
-
into the arrow.
..."
Again that pain, as if her words were tugging at his insides ... Is this the sickness? he thought. Is this how it starts?
A firm hand gripped his shoulder. Fin-Kedinn stood beside him, watching the Mage.
"Out of the arrow
--" cried Saeunn, rising to her feet,
"and into the fire!"
She plunged the arrow into the embers.
Green flames shot skyward.
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Oslak screamed.
The Ravens hissed.
Saeunn's arms dropped to her sides.
The spell had failed.
Torak clutched his belly and fought waves of blackness.

Suddenly, a dark shape flew into the firelight. It was the clan guardian, heading straight for him. He tried to duck, but Fin-Kedinn held him steady. Just in time, the raven swerved. It was angry: its clan was under attack. Torak had no idea why it had flown at him.

He tried to catch Renn's eye, but she was kneeling by Oslak, peering at the marks he'd clawed in the dust.
Twisting out of Fin-Kedinn's grip, Torak ran-- between the watchers, out of the camp, and into the Forest.
He reached a moonlit glade and collapsed against an ash tree. The giddiness came again. He doubled up and began to retch.
An owl hooted.
Torak raised his head and stared at the cold stars glinting through the black leaves of the ash tree. He slid to the ground with his head in his hands. The dizziness had subsided, but he was still shaking. He felt frightened and alone. He couldn't even tell Renn about this. She was his friend, but she was also 30
the Mage's apprentice. She mustn't know. No one must know. If he was sick, he'd rather die alone in the Forest than strapped to a litter. Then a terrible suspicion took hold of him.
They are eating my souls,
Oslak had said. Was that the rambling of a madman, or did it hide a kernel of truth?
Shutting his eyes, he tried to lose himself in the night sounds. The warble of a blackbird. The wheezy cries of the fledgling robins in the undergrowth.