Spirit Walker (19 page)

"Let's hope they've got the wisdom to know that he's not," said Bale. From a pouch at his belt he took a withered gray-green stalk which he broke into four. "Here." He handed out the pieces.

Detlan and Bale chewed theirs, but Torak eyed his suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Cliffwort," said Bale with his mouth full. "Takes away giddiness."
"I thought only Asrif was going up."
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"He is," said Bale. "But you can get just as giddy looking up as you can looking down."
The stalk was bitter, but almost immediately Torak's head cleared.

He felt spare and useless as he watched Deltan help Asrif put on the heavy kelp-rope harness, and check the big wooden hook at its back; Bale slinging the coil of rope over his shoulder, and testing the hook at its end.

"What can I do?" he asked.
Asrif flashed him a grin that was more of a grimace. "Catch me if I fall."
"Just keep out of the way," muttered Bale.
Torak ground his teeth. They wouldn't even let him help.

Stifling his frustration, he watched Bale draw back his arm and throw the rope. The hook floated high, then dropped neatly over a peg about ten paces up. Asrif caught the hook and fixed it to the one at his back, and Detlan took the other end of the rope and pulled it taut. Asrif began to climb, finding cracks and climbing pegs with his hands and feet, while Detlan braced himself to take his weight if he fell.

When he neared the peg over which the rope had been flung, he found a ledge beside it and balanced on his toes, clinging to the rock face with one hand while he unhooked the rope from his harness and tossed it

 

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down. It hit the ground with a thump--Torak had to jump smartly back--and Bale cast it again, this time over a higher peg, taking care to avoid knocking Asrif off. Asrif needed good balance to catch the swinging hook and attach it to his harness.

 

As he climbed higher, seabirds lifted off the cliff and fluttered indignantly about him. A couple of times, he slipped and came off the rock face. Only the harness-- and Detlan's muscle--stopped him plunging to his death.

 

While Detlan and Bale sweated at the rope, Torak stood by, hating his helplessness. Asrif made his way precariously up the cliff. For the last few lengths-- which were out of Bale's reach--he cast the rope himself, choosing pegs that were close enough to allow him to do so without losing his balance. By now he was near-ing the eyrie. As Torak watched, shading his eyes with his palm, he saw a dark, hunched shape lift off a crag. It had the enormous, blunt-fingered wings of an eagle; and it was spiraling slowly down toward Asrif.

A solitary eagle circled the peak. Renn thought of Torak on the other side, and quickened her pace.
Although the sun was getting low, it was still hot on the trail, and the breeze wafting from the lake did little
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to cool her. She'd been walking since well before dawn. Wolf had returned soon after, to her great relief; but he'd been keen to head west, and it had been a struggle to keep up with him. Even now he was racing ahead-- although always running back for her.

She wondered if he knew where Torak was, or if he'd picked up the trail of the skinboater she'd seen on the lake. She had found no trace of him, except for a second skinboat hidden under some brush at the edge of the lake. The boat had been empty. A spare, maybe. But that told her nothing about what the skinboater had been doing in this part of the island.

"These days, the Seals don't go inland," Tiu had told her. "They used to, but they've become much stricter about keeping Forest and Sea apart." "Doesn't anyone live on the west coast?" Renn had asked.
Tiu had shaken his head. "It belongs to the eagles. You can see their home from far away: a great red peak shaped like a Hunter's fin." Renn had first glimpsed the peak at midday. Now, as she left the lake behind her, she stood directly beneath it.
From this side it was unscaleable: a treacherous scree slope on which not even crowberry could gain a hold. To her left, though, among some straggly rowan 250
trees, there might be a way around its southern foot, and down to the Sea. She would need that if she was to find Torak.

But to her surprise, Wolf wasn't interested in that way. Instead he went north, disappearing into a birch thicket, then bursting out again, keen for her to follow. He didn't seem worried; simply excited. She decided to go after him.

Pushing through the thicket, she found herself climbing a rocky slope that soon had her breathless and scratched. It was a relief to come out on a windy ridge high above a beach of glittering black sand. To the north the beach came to an abrupt end where a cliff had fallen into the Sea, leaving a tumbled mass of boulders. In the midst of these, screaming flocks of birds squabbled over something large and dead.

Carrion, thought Renn, watching Wolf race down the slope to the beach. No wonder he's excited. Now he'll have enough to eat.
She'd come this far, so she decided to see what it was.

The wind changed, and she caught the stench of rottenness. As she reached the bottom and crunched through the charcoal-colored sand, she saw Wolf at the other end of the beach, scattering the birds. Crows and gulls dived at him, but he fended them off with a few

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good snaps. The wiser ravens settled on the rocks to wait their turn.

Then she saw that someone else had been here before her. Beside Wolf's tracks were a man's. Walking, not running. Whatever the skinboater had been doing here, he'd taken his time.

 

As she drew nearer, the carrion stink grew so strong that she had to breathe through her mouth. In the glare of the sun she couldn't see much of whatever had died among the boulders. Just a big, humped shape splashed with bird droppings; and Wolf tearing hungrily at the dark-red flesh.

 

At her approach he moved around to the other side, to put more distance between them. That should have told her to give him more eating space, but what she saw made her forget about that. Oh no, she thought. It can't be.

 

Wolf raised his head and growled at her, then gave an uncertain whine and wagged his tail. He was telling her that he liked her, but she was getting too close to his meat.

She stumbled backward. She'd seen enough.
The young Hunter had been trapped in a kelp net, and killed with an axe. Then its carcass had been left for the birds. Only its teeth had been hacked out. Feeling sick, Renn sank to her knees in the sand,
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staring at the small black fin covered in peck marks. Why would anyone do such a thing?
Then she remembered the Kelp Clan's warning about the lone Hunter.
No wonder it's angry, she thought.
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Chapter TWENTY-SIX
On the Heights, Asrif was in trouble. He'd reached a ledge just beneath the eyrie, but the back of his harness had caught on a rock, and he couldn't unsnag it. "He could cut himself free," said Detlan, craning his neck.
"Then what does he do for a harness?" said Bale.
Torak said, "If he's really caught, then--"
"--then he can't get down," snapped Bale. "Yes, we've already thought of that."
"What I mean," said Torak, "is I could go up and help him."
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Just when he was beginning to wonder if he would ever get there, he heaved himself onto a ledge that brought him level with Asrif.

The Seal boy was a little over an arm's length away, on his hands and knees with his back to Torak, his shoulder strap hopelessly snagged on a jagged tongue of rock. No wonder he hadn't been able to free himself.

 

Asrif glanced awkwardly over his shoulder. "Good to see you, Forest boy," he said, trying for a grin that didn't work. His face was red, although whether from exhaustion or humiliation, Torak couldn't tell.

"I think I can unhook you," said Torak. He began edging sideways along a narrow crack that led from his ledge to Asrif's.
"Watch out for the eagles," warned Asrif.

Torak risked a glance up--and nearly fell off the cliff in shock. Directly above him, the eyrie blotted out the sky. A huge tangle of lichen-crusted branches, it was easily as big as a Raven's shelter. From deep inside he heard a faint

chink chink
of nestlings. But of their parents he could see no sign.
"Where are they?" he murmured.
"Circling higher up," said Asrif. "I think they know I'm stuck. It won't be the same for you."
Torak swallowed, and glanced back to the ledge he'd just left. His rope was securely looped over the final peg, a short way above it. If he missed his footing, 255
that should stop him falling too far. If, of course, the rope didn't break, or his harness didn't snap, or the peg didn't crack . . .
If, if, if, he told himself impatiently. Get on with it.
He moved farther along the crack. But even straining as far as he could, he couldn't reach Asrif's harness.
He tried to get closer--but his rope held him back. He tugged at it--the signal for Bale to feed him more slack--but nothing happened. "He can't give you any more," said Asrif. "There's none left."
Torak glanced down--a dizzying drop to the upturned faces far below--and saw Bale shaking his head.
He thought for a moment. Then he wriggled out of his harness, and let it swing free from the final peg. Now there would be nothing to hold him if he fell. "What are you
doing"
whispered Asrif in horror.
"Try to keep the birds off me," said Torak as he edged closer.
Again he reached out for Asrif's harness--and this time his fingers brushed it.
A shadow slid across the rock--and he ducked as a herring gull flew at him with a strident
kyow.

Asrif shouted and threw a stone. He missed, and the gull flew away, spattering them both. Foul white slime clogged Torak's hair and leaked down his face, narrowly missing

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one eye. He spat out the worst and tried again.

This time he grabbed Asrif's shoulder strap. His fingers were slippery with bird slime, and he couldn't pull the harness off the snag. "Move back a bit," he gasped, "let it slacken."

Asrif shuffled back.
With a jerk that nearly took him with it, Torak yanked the harness free of the rock.
Asrif was still on hands and knees, openmouthed with shock. He turned and met Torak's eyes. "Thanks," he muttered.
Torak gave a curt nod. "The root. Did you get the root?"
Asrif shook his head.
"What?"
"I couldn't reach." His face puckered with shame. "I chose the wrong pegs, climbed myself to a dead end. Should've taken your route instead."

Torak risked another glance up, and saw that a short way to his right, a deep, slanting crack zigzagged up toward the nether part of the eyrie. At its top, in the very shadow of the eyrie, nestled a clump of glossy, dark-purple leaves. Selik root.

He thought about going back to the ledge he'd just come from, and putting on his harness. But there was no more slack in the rope; it wouldn't allow him to 257
reach the eyrie. He would have to do without.
"I should be able to make it," he said, with more confidence than he felt.

His arms and legs trembled with strain as he sought handholds and hoisted himself up the crack. He was hot and tired, and the stink of bird slime was making him sick.

 

Beneath his foot, the crack gave. Just in time he climbed farther up--and watched part of the rim disintegrate, the fragments rolling and bouncing before shattering on the boulders, dangerously close to Detlan and Bale.

 

It occurred to him that he should have shouted a warning, but it was too late now. Besides, shouting would displease the cliff, which seemed to be waxing impatient with these interlopers on its flank.

He edged farther up the crack toward the selik root.
"Look out!" whispered Asrif below him.
A menacing
klek klek

echoed off the cliff--then a shadow sped toward him--and he looked around to see an eagle coming straight at him, its vicious talons reaching for his face. He needed both hands to cling on, he couldn't even shield his head, could only flatten himself against the rock. He caught a fleeting glimpse of fierce golden eyes and a sharp black tongue--heard

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one eye. He spat out the worst and tried again.

This time he grabbed Asrif's shoulder strap. His fingers were slippery with bird slime, and he couldn't pull the harness off the snag. "Move back a bit," he gasped, "let it slacken."

Asrif shuffled back.
With a jerk that nearly took him with it, Torak yanked the harness free of the rock.
Asrif was still on hands and knees, openmouthed with shock. He turned and met Torak's eyes. "Thanks," he muttered.
Torak gave a curt nod. "The root. Did you get the root?"
Asrif shook his head.
"What?"
"I couldn't reach." His face puckered with shame. "I chose the wrong pegs, climbed myself to a dead end. Should've taken your route instead."

Torak risked another glance up, and saw that a short way to his right, a deep, slanting crack zigzagged up toward the nether part of the eyrie. At its top, in the very shadow of the eyrie, nestled a clump of glossy, dark-purple leaves. Selik root.

He thought about going back to the ledge he'd just come from, and putting on his harness. But there was no more slack in the rope; it wouldn't allow him to 259
reach the eyrie. He would have to do without.
"I should be able to make it," he said, with more confidence than he felt.

His arms and legs trembled with strain as he sought handholds and hoisted himself up the crack. He was hot and tired, and the stink of bird slime was making him sick.

 

Beneath his foot, the crack gave. Just in time he climbed farther up--and watched part of the rim disintegrate, the fragments rolling and bouncing before shattering on the boulders, dangerously close to Detlan and Bale.

 

It occurred to him that he should have shouted a warning, but it was too late now. Besides, shouting would displease the cliff, which seemed to be waxing impatient with these interlopers on its flank.

He edged farther up the crack toward the selik root.
"Look out!" whispered Asrif below him.
A menacing
klek klek

echoed off the cliff--then a shadow sped toward him--and he looked around to see an eagle coming straight at him, its vicious talons reaching for his face. He needed both hands to cling on, he couldn't even shield his head, could only flatten himself against the rock. He caught a fleeting glimpse of fierce golden eyes and a sharp black tongue--heard

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the hiss of wings wider than a skinboat. . . .
A stone struck the eagle on the breast, and it wheeled away with a screech.
Torak glanced down at Asrif, who'd found another pebble and was fitting it to his slingshot.
Torak couldn't see where the eagle had gone. Maybe it had been frightened off, but he didn't think so. More likely it was circling for another attack.