Ghost Hunter (11 page)

He saw how they converged in a dense press of bodies as they passed through the gap. He saw the lifted heads and jostling antlers of swimming reindeer, the quick heave as they climbed the banks and scattered on the other side. He knew that this river of life would be trailed by many hunters: eagles, wolves, ravens, wolverines, people.

But where
were
the people?

He spotted Rip and Rek flying high, turning their heads from side to side as they searched for carcasses. He saw a buck rise on its hind legs and run a few paces to warn the others of danger, then thud to earth and charge a wolverine, which bounded away. And there in the distance was Wolf, a gray shadow at the edge of the

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herd, seeking an abandoned calf, or a reindeer too sick or injured to put up a fight.

But no people. Just three more turf men on the hill opposite, standing with antler arms outstretched.

Renn whispered in his ear. "We're out of arrowshot. We've got to get downhill, into the thicket."

She was right. Forget about people. The only thing that mattered now was meat.

And they'd have to get close. Success in a reindeer hunt depends on making a swift kill which fells the prey quietly, without alerting the herd. If you miss, they'll be off, and you'll have lost your chance.

Renn muttered a prayer to her guardian, and Torak asked the Forest to bring him luck. They began to edge down the slope toward the willows.

Torak glimpsed Wolf weaving among the reindeer. In his head, he wished him good hunting.

Wolf ran through the rich, swirling scent that made his pelt tighten with hunger.

He smelled the bloody tatters that swung from the reindeers' head-branches, and snuffed the delicious scent of calves. To his relief, he smelled no other wolves: no stranger pack which would attack a lone wolf who dared enter its range.

To make the prey run, he let them see him.

A big bull put down his head and thundered toward

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him:
Get away from my females!
Wolf dodged the lunging head-branches and bounded away.

In the din, he caught an anguished bleating. He loped toward it.

The calf stood shivering on a small, pebbly island in the middle of the Fast Wet. Wolf smelled its fear. It was unprotected. Its mother lay dead, her carcass already picked clean.

Wolf lowered his head and moved down the bank and into the Wet. He swam with the reindeer, and they ignored him, sensing that he wasn't after them.

The calf smelled him. Its bleating turned shrill. Wolf saw it move behind its mother's rib cage, ducking its head so that it couldn't see him, but sticking out its pale, fluffy rump.

Wolf's paws touched pebbles. He'd reached the island.

But as he emerged, a big cow reindeer surged onto the other side of the island and charged at him. Wolf scrambled to avoid her. She threw down her head and lashed out with her head-branches. Wolf leaped. The head-branches missed by a whisker, spraying him with pebbles. He'd made a mistake. That carcass wasn't the mother.
This
was. Wolf shot past her and jumped into the Wet.

As he reached the safety of the bank, he glanced back. The calf had ducked under its mother's belly to suckle,

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but the mother was still glaring at Wolf:
Stay away I

Shaking the Wet from his fur, he scanned the herd for easier prey.

He caught a distant bleat of pain. There. A young buck struggling to climb the bank. Its head-branches looked sharp as fangs: one swipe would gut an unwary wolf.

But there was something wrong with its leg.

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SEVENTEEN

Torak spotted Wolf among the reindeer, then lost him again.

Renn whispered in his ear: "These willows are too thick, I can't get a clean shot."

He nodded. "If we can get down to those rocks by the river..."

Silently, they threaded their way between the man-high trees on the slope. Through the branches, Torak glimpsed reindeer trotting over open ground toward the water. They ran as reindeer do, with muzzles raised and hind legs splayed, white rumps swaying from side to side.

Beside him, Renn had taken off her snow mask. Her

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eyes shone. He knew she was thinking of marrowfat, and baked haunch so succulent that when you bite it, the blood squelches between your teeth and runs down your chin....

Stop it, Torak. You haven't got one yet.

As it was still the rut, bulls kept turning aside to clash antlers, scattering cows and calves as they raced after each other. The biggest bulls had swollen necks and heavy manes from throat to knees; some bore bloody tatters on their tines, where the hide hadn't finished peeling. Torak saw shreds of it fluttering from branches at the edges of the thickets on either side of the gap. The reindeer shied from these, as they did from the turf men who stood with open arms on the hills and banks.

Almost, thought Torak, as if they were herding the prey.

He noticed that the reindeer weren't as plump as they should be. After grazing all summer, they should have had thick pads of fat on their backs, but these didn't. Torak saw a young cow drop to one side and make a pitiful attempt to feed, pawing the ice with her front hooves, before trotting wearily on.

At last, he and Renn made it down the slope to an outcrop of boulders on the riverbank, surrounded by straggling willows. Torak saw reindeer jostling to get into the water. He saw moist pink tongues sliding over yellow teeth. He smelled musk, and heard the clicking

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of tendons as hooves struck icy ground. He nocked an arrow to his bow.

Renn pushed back her hood, fixed her eyes on her target, and took aim.

Wolf bit hard and the buck with the broken leg went limp.

In a frenzy of hunger, Wolf sank his teeth into its belly and loosed a flood of delicious, slithery guts. He gulped them fast, leaving only the pouch that smelled of moss. When the buck's belly was empty and Wolf's nearly full, he started on the haunches, biting off chunks of hot, juicy meat.

The ravens alighted and hopped toward the kill. Wolf growled them away without lifting his muzzle. They stalked off to wait their turn.

The hunger was gone: Wolf couldn't eat any more. He was thirsty. His muzzle and chest fur were sticky. Trotting down the bank, he snapped up the Wet, leaving the kill to the ravens.

As he raised his head from the Wet, he caught the scent of taillesses. He sniffed.

Not
his
taillesses.

Other.

Renn was about to shoot when her quarry stumbled in the shallows, and fell with a spear quivering in its ribs.

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A spear.

Torak met her startled glance and lowered his bow. Where had that come from?

The spear had dropped the reindeer so cleanly that the others splashed past it, unconcerned. Crouching among the willows, Torak and Renn peered down the bank. Those spears had come from the river....

There. Midstream, in the thick of the herd: a hide canoe. Torak saw a wooden reindeer head at the front, a stubby tail at the back. The craft sat low in the water, manned by hunters he could barely see. He made out four, cunningly disguised: antlers strapped to their heads, faces painted dark brown, with patches of white around eyes and mouth, like reindeer. He saw another canoe downstream. Renn pointed to two more upstream.

Torak glanced at the shreds of antler hide fluttering at the edges of the thicket; at the turf men with open arms. They were there to herd the reindeer toward the river, where the hunters lay in wait, ready to pick them off while they were swimming, and least able to escape.

Renn had grasped it too. "Now we've done it," she breathed. "We've blundered into someone else's hunt!"

Torak saw a hunter in one of the boats taking aim at a white reindeer in the water. Just as his spear drew back, a raven swooped out of nowhere.

"Oh, no," muttered Renn.

Rip had eaten well, and was in the mood for fun.

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Flying low, he barked like a dog. The startled hunter cast his weapon, but missed his quarry's ribs and struck the rump instead. The white reindeer scrambled out of the river and galloped off, trailing the spear.

In an instant, the herd smelled the pain of its wounded sister and panicked. Torak saw white-rimmed eyes and flaring nostrils. Panic became a stampede. Reindeer reared, clambering over one another, churning water. The canoes rocked wildly; Torak saw hunters clinging on. Then he forgot about them as branches snapped behind him and reindeer crashed toward them through the thicket,

"Climb the boulders!" cried Renn.

They fled the willows and Torak boosted her onto the nearest rock, then swung himself up. The herd thundered around them, a torrent of antlers and hooves and powerful, crushing bodies. Renn wasn't high enough--the tine of a rearing bull snagged her hair. She screamed, struggling one-handed to pull free. Torak whipped out his knife and slashed her hair loose. The terrified bull thrashed its head and flailed its hooves, catching him on the shoulder. He fell, rolling sideways as a hoof struck the ground near his face. Renn leaned down and grabbed his arm. The reindeer blundered down the bank.

"You all right?" Renn shouted above the din.

"Yes! You?" yelled Torak.

She nodded grimly. But the back of her scalp was

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bleeding, where a lock of hair had been torn out by the roots.

Suddenly it was all over. The last reindeer cantered down the bank. The hoofbeats faded. The herd was gone.

Renn slid off the boulder, clutching her head. Torak jumped down beside her.

Below them, the hunters were splashing into the shallows, dragging their canoes. Already, some were running into the thicket, jabbing their spears as they sought those who'd ruined their hunt. Torak saw scowls on painted faces, heard voices buzzing like angry wasps. They had a right to be angry. One reindeer down and another wounded--which would mean tracking it, maybe for days, to finish it off. Not much of a catch for such a big clan.

Renn yanked him back behind the boulders. "We need to get away before they see us," she hissed.

"But they're our only chance of finding the Mountain."

"Yes, but right now, they're furious, and in no mood to give us directions!"

The hunter who'd been the victim of Rip's prank was the angriest. "Did you see it?" he shouted. "A demon like a raven! Spoiled my aim, then vanished into thin air!"

Torak was about to call out, but Renn clapped her

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hand over his mouth. "Are you mad?" she whispered.

Torak studied the hunters. Then he took Renn's hand from his mouth, rose to his feet, and stepped out from behind the rocks.

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[Image: Krukoslik.]

EIGHTEEN

Renn saw a big man turn and narrow his eyes. - "Krukoslik!" shouted Torak, tearing off his snow mask and running down the bank.