Ghost Hunter (21 page)

Moments later, the she-wolf awoke. For an instant, her eyes glowed. Then the dream faded, and she gave a defeated sigh.

Gently, Renn stroked her forepaw. If she followed Torak and Darkfur died, how would she ever face Wolf? How would she face herself?

Her doubts fled. If she broke faith with Darkfur now, then whatever happened on the Mountain of Ghosts, Eostra would have won. The she-wolf had come through grief and hardship. Although Renn's spirit cried out to follow Torak, her mind was made up.

She would stay.

200

[Image: Torak.]

THIRTY-ONE

Torak had lapsed into furious silence. Dark was going through his things, asking questions. What's this green thing? A wrist-guard? Who made it? What's a foster father? Does he love you? Why is this pouch made of swans' feet? What's this horn for? Who made it? Your mother? Does she love you?

"Yes!" shouted Torak. Souls' Night was looming, and here he was, trussed like a ptarmigan, while this extraordinary boy examined his gear.

"There's a red hair around the top of the horn," observed Dark. "Is that your mother's?"

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"No. It's a girl called Renn's. Don't touch." Dark glanced at him. "Is she your mate?"

"No."

"But you like her."

"Of course."

"And she likes you."

"Yes!" he snapped.

Dark's pale face closed. His white eyelashes trembled. Suddenly he flung down the medicine horn and ran off into the shadows. Moments later he reappeared with Torak's clothes in his arms. "There." He threw them on the floor.

Ark croaked and flapped her wings. Wolf sniffed the hides. Torak watched Dark.

Brusquely, the boy drew his knife and cut Torak's bonds. "You're free. You can go."

Torak lost no time in getting dressed. As he was tying his belt, he said, "What changed your mind?"

Dark took a slate wolverine from a ledge and glowered at it. "All those people would miss you. Nobody misses me."

Torak paused. "I'm sorry."

Dark set down the carving. "I'll let you out."

The cave was deeper than Torak had thought. With Wolf padding behind him, he followed the glimmer of Dark's cobweb hair. The walls closed in. Snowy reindeer

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and musk oxen peered at him. Mindful of what else dwelled in the shadows, he said, "Your sister. Is she ..."

"It's Souls' Night. She's gone with the others."

Torak felt icy air, and guessed that they'd reached the way out.

Dark jammed a slingshot into his belt and tied a bird-skin snow mask around his eyes. Torak cut the thongs on his mittens, so they wouldn't get in the way. Dark kicked aside a granite wedge and rolled away a boulder; but as he knelt to crawl out, Torak said, "Wait. I need you to do something."

The last time he'd worn Death Marks had been three winters ago, when he'd prepared to hunt the demon bear. Then, Renn had helped him. Now it was Dark who must daub the earthblood circles on his breastbone, heels, and brow.

As Dark stirred the ochre with thin fingers, he said, "I remember this. It's for dead people." Torak didn't reply.

Dark's touch was light and skilled, and somehow reassuring. "There's some left," he said when he'd finished. "You must put it in your hair. There will be ghosts. You don't want them to come too close."

The red paste chilled Torak's scalp, but felt oddly comforting: maybe because his mother, who had been Red Deer, would also have worn ochre in her hair.

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He rubbed the last of it between Wolf's ears. Soon his pack-brother would be alone on the Mountain. This might keep him safe.

The thought of leaving Wolf was unbearable; but so was the thought of taking him into the Whispering Cave and seeing him die.

With an irritable growl, Wolf wriggled free and shot out of the cave, followed by Ark and Dark. Torak crawled after them into the blistering cold.

He found himself on a precipitous, snow-covered slope. The fog was gone. The sky was an ominous yellow. Soon the Mountain would release its ghosts.

As his eyes became accustomed to the light, Torak realized that they were on its eastern face. The cleft he'd climbed lay somewhere to the west. Above him, the Mountain of Ghosts pierced the sky, its peak blazing in the last rays of the setting sun. The demon time was close.

Ark flew overhead, her white wings flashing. Wolf raced about, sniffing furiously, and stopping now and then to watch something move down the slope: something Torak couldn't see.

Dark sealed the entrance to his cave with a clever arrangement of rocks which hid it from view. "That's the way to the Cave," he said, pointing. "But it's steep, so first we have to head east, then loop back."

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The hard-packed snow was treacherous, and Dark showed Torak how to kick into the snow with his toes. "You have to kick in
straight,
or your foot will slide out." A slab of snow broke off and exploded far below, demonstrating what would happen if Torak got it wrong. "Follow me," Dark called over his shoulder.

His voice rang out, and Torak was about to hush him when he thought, but what does it matter? Eostra knows we're here. This is what she wants.

The madness of what he was about to do struck him. He had no axe, no bow, and no plan, other than to find his way to the Whispering Cave and then--what? How did he imagine he could break the power of the Eagle Owl Mage? He would be as helpless as that young hare in the teeth of the pack.

Am
I mad? he wondered. Is it because I've got too close to the sky?

Renn would have told him exactly what she thought with a roll of her dark eyes. Torak missed her so much, he felt sick.

"Here's where we turn," said Dark, waiting for him to catch up.

Wolf stood beside Dark, panting and swinging his tail. Sensing Torak's misery, he trotted back to him, his paws kicking up sparkling flakes of snow.
I
am with you,
he told Torak.

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"Not far now," said Dark.

They tramped on with the sun in their eyes. Glancing down, Torak saw that shadows were creeping up the Mountain. Soon it would be Souls' Night.

"There," Dark said quietly. "That's the way in. The Scar."

Shading his eyes, Torak saw a slash in the face of the Mountain. On either side, a hand had been hammer-etched in the stone. Lines of power emanated from the middle fingers, warding off evil.

In vain. Claw-marks had gouged the hands, annihilating their power so that Eostra might enter.

Torak felt the breath of the Scar chilling his face, stiffening the earthblood on his skin. Inside, death waited to claim him. Or worse: the unimaginable horror of being Lost.

Every shred of his spirit rebelled. I won't do it! Let someone else fight Eostra! It doesn't have to be me!

He fled, scrambling blindly up the slope. He tripped and fell to his knees.

When he raised his head, he saw that his flight had taken him much higher. He saw what until now had been hidden from view. The Mountain was indeed the easternmost peak, but what lay beyond it was not the edge of the world. Far below, marching away to the horizon, was another Forest.

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In awe, Torak made out rowan and birch, oak and beech; pine and spruce standing guard over their slumbering sisters. And he, whose spirit had walked in the most ancient trees of the Forest of the west, now heard the call of the Forest of the east.
I
am endless and enduring,
it murmured in his mind.
I
give life to all who dwell in me. I am worth fighting for.

Defiance kindled in Torak's souls. If he gave up now, then Eostra had won, and nowhere would be safe. The Soul-Eater would rip aside the skin between the living and the dead, and the balance of the world would be destroyed.

The sun sank. Brightness faded from the Forest. The demon time was come.

Torak trudged down the slope to where Wolf and Dark were waiting. He walked toward the Scar.

Two paces from it, he stopped. "Look after Wolf," he told Dark. "I've got to leave him behind."

Dark was horrified. "But--we're coming with you! You need me to show you the way."

"Dark, I don't think I'm going to live through this. No point you getting killed, too. As for finding the way ..." He swallowed. "I think there are those inside who will lead me."

He knelt to say his last good-bye to Wolf.
Good-bye to Wolf.
It wasn't possible.

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Don't think about Wolf left behind on the Mountain: bewildered, unable to grasp why his pack-brother has forsaken him.

Wolf snuffled his cheek, and Torak felt the tickle of his whiskers and the warmth of his breath.
Pack-brother,
said the golden eyes, as clear as sunlight in honey.

Wolf knew nothing of prophecies, or of Eostra's mad designs; but he would follow his pack-brother even into the terror of the Scar.

With a strangled sob, Torak buried his face in Wolf's scruff. Wolf whined softly and licked his neck.
I
am with you.

To leave Wolf behind would be a betrayal he would never understand; from which he would never recover.

"I can't," Torak said in a cracked voice. "Where I go, he goes."

As he rose to his feet, he caught a flicker of movement inside the Scar.

Wolf lowered his head and growled.

"Do you see it?" whispered Dark.

Deep within, on a shadowy pillar of stone, crouched a tokoroth.

Through a tangle of filthy hair, demon eyes glittered with malice. In silence the creature pointed one yellow claw at Torak, then swung its skeletal arm to the darkness within.

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Torak glanced over his shoulder at the world he was about to leave. Then, with Wolf at his side, he entered the Scar.

"I'm coming with you!" cried Dark. Unseen hands rolled a boulder across the entrance, shutting him out.

And the Mountain swallowed Torak and Wolf.

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[Image: The sacred mountain.]

THIRTY-TWO

Renn fell to her knees before the sacred Mountain. Souls' Night. She felt the presence of the ghosts to whom it belonged.

With trembling hands, she made an offering of earthblood and meat. In a hushed murmur she begged the Mountain to let her pass. Then she shook what was left of the ochre over her hair, to protect her from the ghosts.

Above her the sky was a deep, twilit blue. The cold was savage. Her breath crackled in her nostrils. Her ankle ached, and her feet were bruised from the hill of vicious slate blades.

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A few paces away, a shadow moved. It gave a low bark. Darkfur bounded toward her. Her tail was high, her fur fluffed up with excitement. Her starlit eyes glowed silver.