The Sight (7 page)

‘There’s something here all right.  Smells like badger.’ Beneath them the cubs looked up, for they were amazed that they could understand most of what the dogs were saying.  Palla readied with her claws as Fell and Larka squeezed closer to her warm belly.  If they had been able to they would have climbed back inside.

‘You don’t want to waste your time on stringy badger meat,’ said the dog across the river.  ‘ Not with delicious wolf cubs about.’

Larka and Fell shuddered.

‘He’s right, you know,’ agreed the dog next to Vlag.  ‘It’s wolves we’re after.  That’s the scent the humans gave us in the kennel.’

‘I suppose so,’ muttered Vlag irritably, ‘But why can’t they let us hunt what we want? Always chasing after wolves.’

‘I heard there’s a reason behind it this time, Vlag.’ In the set below, Palla’s ears came straight up.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t you know? One of their own pups has been taken.  A human child.  Stolen by a wolf, from the village below the castle.’

Palla’s eyes opened in astonishment.  It was all she could do to stop howling herself as she listened to the dog’s strange tale.  A wolf steal a human.  Would even the bravest of the Putnar dare to do such a thing?

‘Taken a human?’ growled Vlag, almost as startled as Palla shuddering below him.  ‘But why, there’s plenty of game round here?’

‘That’s the odd thing.  And there was no blood.  For several suns that loner, the old female, was snooping around the village.’

‘Morgra,’ thought Palla nervously.

‘Then this happens and now the humans want their revenge.  They’re fond of revenge.’

‘Then we should give it to them,’ cried Vlag.

He dropped his head again and was about to nose in the direction of the set when a mink that had her den nearby shot past him, straight across the river and almost through the legs of the pack hounds.  The dogs saw her and, completely forgetting about their intended prey, bounded after her, barking and snapping, keen to make up for their lost quarry.

Palla’s mind was on fire and she couldn’t stop shaking as she thought of what she had just heard.  Whatever it all meant, now the humans were roused, her cubs and her pack were in greater danger than ever.  She was desperate to tell Huttser the news, but it would be a long while before it was safe to venture outside.  As the sounds of the dogs disappeared into the night Palla looked tenderly at her little ones, trembling helplessly beside her, then laid her head down on the damp earth.  They were all exhausted and it wasn’t long before sleep had folded them in her gentle paws.

Palla woke suddenly.  Light was filtering into the badger’s set but it wasn’t the morning that had roused her.  Again something was moving about above their heads.  Palla heard a scratching and she thought that the dogs had returned.  Again her claws opened and she readied to attack as a huge muzzle appeared in the tunnel mouth.

‘Huttser,’ cried Palla delightedly.

Huttser was standing proudly in the sunshine.  Bran, Khaz and Kipcha were with him, but Palla gasped as she saw them.  Huttser’s right flank was covered in blood and Bran was shaking badly.  Kipcha’s face was terribly scratched and Khaz had a deep gouge on his back.

‘We had a scrape with our friends,’ growled Huttser, ‘and it was lucky for us these two turned up when they did.  Though you didn’t fight badly, did you, Bran? I tell you, even a Sikla can fight when his back is really up against it.’

Bran smiled at Huttser and wagged his tail proudly.  Huttser’s eyes suddenly glittered too as he caught sight of Brassa, limping towards them along the river bank.  The whole pack was safe.  There was a yapping and growling behind Palla now and the wolf pups popped up the river bank.  As soon as they saw their father they bounded forward in the grass.

‘Children,’ cried Huttser, as the cubs jumped at his legs, barking and biting at his fur, ‘I bet I look worse than Morgra.’

Palla growled as soon as Huttser mentioned her sister.

‘Huttser,’ she whispered, ‘there’s news.’

The pack was exhausted and dazed by their battle, but Palla’s tale made them all gasp.  Khaz snarled and Kipcha began to tremble.  Brassa’s ears came up too.  But it was Bran who was most affected by what he heard.

‘Palla, Huttser, don’t you realize? It’s the legend,’ he said.

‘The legend of the Sight.’

Huttser and Palla swung round to face the Sikla.  He suddenly looked very nervous and Bran turned to Kipcha for support.  Brassa was shaking her head.

‘Legend?’ whispered Palla.

Huttser began to growl angrily as Kipcha told Palla what she had heard of a wolf with the Sight stealing a human.

‘Brassa,’ Palla said suddenly.  ‘You know more of this than you are saying, don’t you? Why don’t you tell us what’s going on?’

The nurse was pawing at the grass.

‘I heard a rumour about it once, Palla,’ she shrugged.  ‘The legend of the Man Varg.’

‘Man Varg,’ gasped Palla, and Bran swung round to look at Kipcha.  He had recalled what she had said on their return about the legend having nothing to do with some silly transformation.

‘But it’s rubbish.  Just a bit of foolish nonsense,’ said Brassa.

‘Foolish nonsense?’ growled Palla angrily, ‘but a wolf has stolen a human child, Brassa.  That is not nonsense.  What is this legend?’

‘Tsinga told me about it once,’ muttered the nurse.  There was something strange in Brassa’s voice.

‘Tsinga?’

‘You were probably too young to remember Tsinga, Palla,’ said Brassa almost hopefully.  ‘The old fortune-teller who lived in the valley beyond the rapids?’

But Palla did remember, if only faintly.  As cubs, they had known the valley as the Vale of Shadows and although she had never actually been there, the place was surrounded with stories that had always made the children shiver excitedly in the den.

Her father had told her once, only half jokingly, that it was guarded by a huge wolf with two heads, and a furious river that let nothing cross whose hungry waters were formed from the saliva of a thousand feeding packs.  Palla had met Tsinga once as a cub and the fortune-teller had scared Palla and her brother Skop half to death.  Tsinga had strange ways and some thought her quite mad, but others believed that she could see the future.

‘Go on, Brassa,’ said Palla coldly.

‘Tsinga’s kind, the fortune-tellers, they have always guarded the beliefs of the Sight.  And among the stories of the Sight there is a legend, as Kipcha says, of a Man Varg.  Told of in an ancient verse.’

‘Ancient verse?’ whispered Palla.  ‘What does it say?’

‘I have never heard it, Palla,’ growled Brassa, dropping her eyes.  ‘But I believe the verse tells of a time when a wolf with the Sight would steal a human child.  The Man Varg.  That together they would bring forth some final power of the Sight.’

‘Final power? What final power?’

‘I don’t know, Palla,’ snapped Brassa, ‘I told you.  I’ve never even heard the verse.’

But Palla was glaring at Brassa.

‘What else?’

Again Brassa hesitated.

‘It has something to do with Wolfbane’s return too,’ she answered reluctantly, ‘and with Wolfbane’s winter.’

‘Morgra,’ shuddered Bran, thinking of her strange blessing to them.

They all knew the story of Wolfbane’s winter.  It was said that if the Evil One ever returned he would bring a terrible winter with him that would shroud the whole earth.

‘So that’s the work Morgra talked of,’ whispered Khaz disgustedly.  ‘Stealing humans.  Whatever else that cub killer’s done, she’s broken the oldest law.’

‘Then Morgra is trying to fulfil this legend,’ growled Palla, ‘that’s why she took the child.’

‘Stop this nonsense,’ cried Huttser angrily, ‘how do you know it has anything to do with a legend? With Morgra’s tastes, more likely than not she’s eaten it.’

‘They said there was no blood,’ growled Palla.  ‘Perhaps it has something to do with us, Huttser.  Perhaps that’s why she wanted—’

 ‘Stop it,’ growled Huttser, ‘if Morgra wants to fool with legends let her.  At least it should take her mind off joining the pack.  And one thing’s for sure.  It’s made up my mind.  I’ll drive her away myself if she comes back.  Balkar or no Balkar.’

‘But now the humans will want our blood even more, Huttser,’ growled Khaz.  ‘We should get far away from this place.’

‘We can’t, Khaz,’ said Palla immediately.  ‘They are still too small to travel any real distance.  We must lie low until the danger passes.  We can’t go back to the cave now the dogs have found it, but at least there’s one boon.  If we find a safe enough den, Morgra won’t be able to find us either.’

‘Very well, Palla,’ growled Huttser.  ‘We’ll take them into the mountains and then look for another den, until it’s time to find them a Meeting Place, some proper spot in the sunshine for them to play and prepare themselves for their first hunt.’

The children had been fascinated with the news of a theft of a human child, but talk of their first hunt was far more exciting to the cubs.  Fell suddenly lifted his head and let out a howl, and for a moment Huttser and the wolf pack grinned.

But suddenly Palla lifted her head too.

‘What is it, Palla?’ growled Huttser, seeing her expression.

‘Can’t you hear it?’

Huttser could hear nothing but it wasn’t long before he caught the scent.  He had begun to sniff the air and Fell and Larka both started to do the same.  In that moment the still air was woken again with a call.  Palla’s tail rose, though not fully, for she had recognized the note.

‘I think it’s my brother Skop.’

The pack didn’t have to wait long to find out.  Soon a male wolf came padding up the river bank.  Larka and Fell wagged their tails excitedly as they spotted a wolf cub trailing wearily through the grass behind him.

‘Skop,’ cried Palla delightedly, for somehow his appearance had lifted the spectre of the hunt and of this strange legend too.  ‘I thought it was you! It’s good to see you again.’

Skop was no bigger than his sister but he had the same strong, intelligent face.  The little wolf with him was very handsome, with the beginnings of a true Dragga’s muzzle, though he looked rather nervous as he peered back at them..

‘Thank Fenris I’ve found you, Palla,’ growled Skop.  ‘I’ve been hunting for suns and suns.  I tried the old den, when I finally remembered where it was.  But you’d gone.’

‘Humans have been hunting,’ growled Palla, ‘but where are you going, brother?’

‘North east,’ answered Skop gravely.  ‘There’s a rebel pack there, Palla, hiding out near the mountains.  They’re preparing to fight Morgra.’

‘Fight Morgra,’ growled Palla with surprise.  The whole pack was listening intently now.

‘They’re led by a bold Drappa named Slavka.  She has called for the free Varg to join a Greater Pack.  To fight Morgra and the Balkar.’

‘A Greater Pack?’ growled Huttser.

‘What are rebels?’ Fell piped up suddenly.

Skop smiled down at the black cub.  Skop was a brave wolf and though not a Dragga himself, he was a natural fighter.

‘Rebels are wolves that live free in the hills,’ he said cheerfully, ‘and fight for freedom and howl songs to the moon all summer long.’

Huttser was shaking his tail disapprovingly.

‘A Greater Pack, Skop?’ he snorted, ‘but I thought such ideas had died out long ago.’

 ‘These are strange times, Huttser.  The rumours around our half-sister grow with each sun.  Perhaps Slavka is right to call on us all to join her.’

‘But what should wolves have to do with a Greater Pack?’ growled Huttser.  ‘Our size should be determined by our territories alone, and by the ties of family and blood.  Freedom lies in the bonds of the pack, and the only true freedom runs with the Varg.  That is the untameable spirit of the wolf.  That is our birth right.’

The pack felt a thrill as Huttser used words spoken to them since their very earliest days as cubs.  Skop too knew that the life of a pack was a thing determined by nature alone.  A wolf pack’s size normally grew like its boundary, swelling or decreasing according to the amount of game to support a pack relying on it.  When game was scarce the territory would have to grow and this naturally increased rivalries between neighbouring packs and competition for food.

‘But why do these rebels want to fight Morgra?’ asked Palla.  ‘What is happening?’

Skop’s eyes suddenly grew grave, and they heard the grumble of early summer thunder in the heavens.  It made the children’s bellies quiver and, as the pack looked up, they saw that above the castle, storm clouds were ribbing the sky.

‘Children,’ said Skop, nuzzling his young companion forward, ‘this is Kar.  Why don’t you take him over there and play for a while.’

‘I don’t want to play,’ said Fell, dying to hear what Skop had to say, ‘it’s silly.’

‘Oh no,’ growled Skop, looking down at him wisely, ‘there’s nothing more serious than play.’

‘I won’t!’ snorted Fell.

Suddenly, Huttser leapt at Fell and grabbed him round the scruff of the neck.  He meant it mostly in fun but the cub was not ready for it and, as Fell found he couldn’t escape, he felt a furious anger burning inside him and a pain that ran down his spine and made him feel sick.  It was as though a shadow had just passed into him, a shadow of his father’s power.  Huttser let go and he was smiling blithely, completely ignorant of what he had just done as Fell glared up at him resentfully.

‘Why don’t you share that hunting call I showed you, Kar?’ said Skop.

At this Fell turned jealously to Kar.

‘He doesn’t look like he’d know a hunting call,’ he scoffed, looking scornfully at the newcomer.

‘Stones are raw, they blunt my claw,’ said Kar straight away, ‘but words will never hurt me.’

Larka liked the look of the newcomer immediately.  Kar liked Larka too, for her eyes were twinkling mischievously.  Kar was about the same size as Larka and Fell, though his coat had the classic grey colouring of a wolf and he had a long, thoughtful muzzle like Huttser.  He stood there, peering timidly between the two of them until Larka suddenly stepped up and touched his muzzle with her nose.  The three of them trotted off to play.

It was only when Skop was sure the children were out of earshot that he swung round to address the pack again.