In The Grip Of Old Winter (34 page)

Snake slithered out of the
shadows. Its forked tongue flicked, the black unblinking eyes in its
diamond-patterned head fixed on the barghest. The long body coiled, undulated,
slithered over the ground, almost too fast for Peter to follow.

The barghest leapt, jaws wide
and ready to bite as he came down on Wulfwyn.

Snake writhed into the air and
looped a coil around the dog’s neck. They both hit the ground with a
thump
that made it shake. The barghest’s legs gave way under Snake’s weight. Snake
looped another coil around the chest, then the belly, then the hindquarters and
Peter saw the muscles contract as Snake’s long thick body squeezed.

The barghest’s legs scrabbled
against the ground. The head arched back to snap at Snake, the eyes wide with
fear and fury. The dog whimpered and its tongue lolled from its jaws as Snake
forced the air from the barghest’s lungs.

***

Wulfwyn’s stance kept him
braced and ready to fight as if uncertain of Snake’s next move. Fox appeared from
around the other side of the fire and trotted towards the manor. Snake uncoiled
his loops from around the barghest and followed Fox.

“Quick,” said Peter. “We have
to get Wolf into the manor. All the skin-walkers together can defeat the
spae-wife and we can rescue Leonor.”

Wulfwyn sheathed his knife
and muttered. “I have never seen the like.” He gazed at the sideboard and the
stepladder, the colourful plates in the snow, shook his head and then knelt and
heaved Wolf up and over one shoulder. “I have the weight. Pull the head around
my neck.”

Peter dropped his staff and
pushed and pulled Wolf’s head until it circled Wulfwyn’s neck and he grabbed it
and let the head flop over his other shoulder.

Wulfwyn took a deep breath,
tensed his legs and stood. He staggered until he found his balance. “Very
well.”

Peter picked up his staff and
ran ahead to pull back the fur from the doorway. His hand brushed against cold
metal just inside the door frame. A hook, he thought, from the way it curved
upwards and he draped the fur over so that some light shone into the long
hallway.

He ran ahead until he reached
the passage into the big room. No sign of the other skin-walkers. Wulfwyn’s
boots stomped on the hard-packed earth as he followed as fast as Wolf’s weight
allowed.

Light pulsed at the far end
of the passage. White, green, red, the palette swirled as if unable to settle
on just one.

“Move with care,” said
Wulfwyn. “I wonder at this silence.”

Peter crept down the passage.
The circle of branches came into view first and the white and green light that
shone from them. Then Leonor, as if asleep, staked to the ground. The legs of
the high stool, the long branches lashed together with twine and upon its top,
bent and crouched, the spae-wife.

Her head lolled upon her
shoulder and the jaw hung loose and slack. Her arms and legs twisted at strange
angles and the fingers, curled into talons, twitched. The seal-amulet shone
crimson and the silver marks revolved, though not one burned bright.

Peter’s heart jumped. Bear
and Godwine’s attack must have been ferocious. They’d wounded her, countered
the seal-amulet’s spells. Leonor must be safe now.

The red light flared and not
from the seal-amulet, as Peter thought. Opposite the spae-wife, a wall of
translucent flame shimmered as it reached from one end of the room to the
other. Behind it, in a line, stood the skin-walkers, robed and with their arms
raised. Gashes revealed flaps of loose material as if they’d fought the barghest
in their human form.

Bear’s voice called. “Come
through.”

The flames closest to Peter
separated, just wide and high enough to form an arch. He ran and Wulfwyn
followed close behind.

The spae-wife shrieked and
thick tree roots erupted at their feet. They whipped at Peter’s ankles, tripped
him, twisted to grip his shins and bring him down.

Wulfwyn cried out and the
ground shook as he stamped his feet to stay free.

Bear yelled. “Run.”

Fingers of flame uncurled
from the wall of fire and snapped like whips at the roots, which ignited,
shrank and then withered away in plumes of black smoke.

Peter choked and his eyes
smarted as he staggered through the fire-arch. Wulfwyn half-ran, half-fell
after him and collapsed onto his knees, his back bent from Wolf’s weight.
Flames leapt across the gap and sealed the arch.

Bear lowered his arms. “You
have done well, Peter.” He stepped out from the line, knelt beside Wolf and
stroked his fur. “My dear friend. So many seasons have passed since last we
stood together. You were lost and now you are found.” He laid his hand upon
Wolf’s head and sang a long deep note. One by one the skin-walkers added their
song to Bear’s, until the room vibrated with their harmony.

Wolf’s stomach expanded in a
sudden gasp of indrawn breath. Three times, in and out, each breath longer and
deeper than the one before. His fur bristled and his eyelids twitched and his
throat rasped with the effort of each new breath. Then his breathing relaxed
into a gentle rhythm until, as if he slept, he breathed with sound contentment.

Bear stood. “He will wake
soon.” He placed his hand upon Wulfwyn’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend.”

Wulfwyn wiped sweat from his
brow. “Where is Godwine?”

“He is hurt.” Bear pointed to
the darkest corner of the room.

Godwine sat propped against
the wall, his chin slumped onto his chest and his left leg twisted at an odd angle.
Dark stains covered his leather jerkin. Wulfwyn ran to him and knelt.

Bear said, “I have given him
sleep so that his pain is eased. We need time to treat his wounds with greater
care.”

Peter’s mouth went dry.
Did
that mean Godwine might die?
His heart pounded and his hatred for the
spae-wife and the seal-amulet erupted. “It isn’t fair. We’ve got to stop her.
Did Godwine hit her, is that why she looks so broken?”

“No. He is brave and that
makes his actions glorious, but the spae-wife is unhurt. She is casting off her
host.” Bear stepped up to the wall of fire. “Her charms are placed and the time
draws near for her to claim a new victim. The girl is young and strong and her
spirit will serve the spae-wife well for many seasons to come.”

Peter gripped his staff
tight. Anger and now fear for Leonor’s safety made his stomach tingle. “But
what are we going to do to stop her?”

“We are held by her charms
and our shield. We are protected from her attack behind the fire, but we cannot
pass the barrier raised from the branches.” Bear paced. “It is an impasse that
keeps us safe, but gives the spae-wife time to prepare.”

Peter banged the staff on the
floor. “We’ve got to do something.”

Bear faced him. “You are
right.” He knelt until his hooded head came level with Peter’s. “My kindred and
I have studied much since you first appeared in our glade.” He raised his hand
as if he meant to touch Peter’s face. “An aura surrounds your form. You are a
boy, though not one who is birthed from the joining of man and woman.”

Peter twisted the staff in
his hands. “What?”

Bear knelt back on his
haunches. “You have used the seal-amulet already and can do so again.”

“No I can’t.” Peter pointed.
“She’s got it. She can use it even when I’m wearing it, but I can never make it
work when I want it to.”

“Watch and be ready. There
will... Ah!”

Wolf awoke and gave a
ferocious sneeze. His yellow eyes glinted in the firelight. Bear stood and
folded his arms around Wolf’s neck in a close embrace. When he drew back, he held
a new robe in his hands. Wolf sat up and sniffed it and the robe fell around
his body and he rose and stood as tall as the other skin-walkers.

“Together and complete,” said
Bear. “Welcome back to your kith and kin, my friend.”

Wolf crossed his hands against
his chest, faced Peter and bowed.

Peter said, “That’s - that’s
all right.”

The wall of fire flared as if
disturbed by some sudden shock. Through the flames, Peter saw the spae-wife,
bent almost double, teeter on her stool as if she might tumble and fall.

“Be quick,” said Bear. “Her
ritual is almost finished.”

Wolf joined the line of
skin-walkers and raised his arms and the wall of fire burned a deeper orange.

Bear placed a hand on Peter’s
shoulder. “The body will fall when the spae-wife leaves her host and so will
the seal-amulet. The charm that raised her barrier will fail. The spae-wife is
at her most vulnerable when she passes out of one host and takes the form of
another. Retrieve the seal-amulet before she enters her new host and use it to
save Leonor.”

Peter’s stomach churned as
fear made him sick. “But I can’t make the seal-amulet work. It does sometimes,
but not every time and when I want it to, nothing happens.”

Bear’s voice deepened, like
one of Peter’s school masters when he wanted something understood. “The
seal-amulet’s charms can be used in many different ways. You have used them
already and you will use them again, though how may not be clear. We will
help.”

A deep hum, like hundreds of
wasps hovering, made the air tingle. The circle of branches trembled.

Leonor’s head rolled as if
pushed by some unseen hand from its side, where her cheek pressed upon the floor,
onto its back, so that she faced the rafters.

The spae-wife jolted and her
bones rattled. As if on command, Leonor’s eyes snapped open. Her jaw dropped
and, with her lips stretched wide apart, she opened her mouth.

***

“Be ready,” said Bear. He
raised his arms as he joined the other skin-walkers. “The spae-wife enters the
host’s mouth, digs into the soft skin at the back of the throat and then burrows
into the head.”

The seal-amulet dangled from
the spae-wife’s neck as if it might slip over her head and drop at any moment.
She stood with one foot on the high stool while the other swung unsupported in
mid-air. Her arms flopped at her sides, though her fingers still twitched.

Peter stood like a runner
before a race, one leg back, his weight upon it, ready to sprint, his eyes
fixed upon the seal-amulet. Did the spae-wife move fast or slow? How did she
move? The actual spae-wife must be tiny, for Leonor’s mouth didn’t open that
wide.

The host jerked. Her arms
rose and fell as if she performed some wild dance and her head rolled across
her shoulders, so that the seal-amulet slipped around her body and hung down
her back.

The white light that pulsed
from the circle of branches faltered and went out. The skin-walkers lowered
their arms and the wall of flame rose into an arch that spanned the room from
one side to the other and left the floor clear.

Bear’s deep voice called.
“Wait.”

Peter tensed.

The spae-wife shrieked and
the cry pierced louder than the harsh buzz that vibrated in the air. The host’s
arms stayed up and still, the fingers curved, her head thrown back. The buzz
ceased and the sudden silence made Peter hold his breath.

She rose out of the host’s
mouth and hovered. Black as water, when it is shadowed from the moon, she
glistened in the fire’s light. Her wings, twice the size of her body; their
thin membranes crossed by many veins, flapped in fast rotation. A wasp’s head
with two eyes, a nose and a mouth, just like a tiny human face, scowled in
hatred and fury. The whites of her eyes blazed and the lips drew back to show
teeth pointed like fangs.

Peter swallowed. For if he
thought the face human, the segmented body resembled an insect’s. Four legs,
jointed twice, grew from the chest and four from the abdomen, each one tipped
by a large claw. The curved abdomen ended in a hooked sting.

The spae-wife shrieked again,
a thin high sound that might be the distant call of some wild bird. The skeletal
body of her old host collapsed, tumbled from the stool and crashed to the
floor. The bones broke apart and bounced in different directions. The skull
rolled over the circle of branches and the jaw snapped free.

The seal-amulet landed at the
base of the stool and rolled to within a few inches of Leonor’s right foot.

Bear yelled. “Now.”

Peter shot forward, the staff
held horizontal in front of his chest. He leapt over the circle of branches and
darted towards the seal-amulet.

The spae-wife hissed and dived
straight at his head. Peter raised the staff, but she swerved past his defence
and arched her abdomen to sting his hand. Peter swivelled on the spot and the
sting slipped off the staff’s hard wood. He dropped onto all fours, swung the
staff over his head with one hand and with the other, groped for the
seal-amulet.

The spae-wife rose to miss
his clumsy attack. She drew her legs up, bunched them close to her body, the
claws faced outwards to scratch and tear. The sting glistened where a drop of
poison hung suspended from its tip.