The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (23 page)

Maktaz was silent for almost the entire three-day ride to
the north. As if they had authority over him. And bringing in a new shaman! Ha!
The man wasn’t even Dardani. He couldn’t be the shaman. Maktaz wouldn’t allow
it.

 He maintained his stony silence as Larad of the Eagle
Clan lectured him—
him
—on the terms of his Ordeal. “Once you cross the
water your Ordeal begins. You may not set foot south of this river until one
year from today. Unless a brother stands forth to share your Ordeal, no Dardani
may assist you in any way until then. May the Spirits judge you according to
your heart.”

Larad was an enemy. Father of Ariad and too closely allied
to Danar and Vatar. It was an insult that the chiefs had sent an Eagle—the only
totem creature that was a known enemy of his totem, the Raven. The only greater
affront would have been to send Danar as his judge. He still wondered if Danar
had noticed that there had been no reaction from the Lion totem when Maktaz
placed his hand in its mouth. None. Because Maktaz hadn’t been able to feel the
Spirit of the Lion since the tiger hunt. That Spirit had withdrawn from him
long before he placed his hand in the mouth of the carving for a second time.

Maktaz closed his fist. Part of him had hoped that the
ritual would actually cause the return of that Spirit, but he still didn’t feel
anything. No matter. He’d get them all back when Vatar failed to return from
his Ordeal.

As soon as he was across the river that marked the northern
boundary of Dardani territory, Maktaz turned and watched as his escort mounted
and turned their horses for home. He waited until they were over the horizon
before he stepped back into the ford and started walking—south. There was no
way he was going to allow the chiefs to banish
him
on an Ordeal. And,
fortunately, he wasn’t the only one who thought the chiefs had exceeded their
authority.

He dropped to his knees in exhaustion when he finally
reached the waterhole where some of the Wolf Clan had left a cache of supplies
for him. They’d even built him a sod hut. He had water, food, and shelter.
Maktaz would be able to finish the summer in relative comfort. He smiled. And
the chiefs would never know.

In spite of the weight of this Ordeal that seemed to have
settled more heavily on his shoulders with every mile they rode, Vatar forced
himself to walk as straight and tall as possible as Uncle Bion escorted him to
the edge of the Forest. He’d decided to wear his tiger skin after all. He might
need its warmth in the coming winter. It was big enough to be used as a
temporary shelter, if necessary. But he’d send the tiger fang back to his
family to keep for him. That wouldn’t be any use to him in the coming months.
Just one more thing to carry.

He wished Pa was here for one last goodbye, but Pa was too
closely concerned to officiate in the Ordeals. It would have given it an air of
favoritism that Vatar couldn’t afford.

Bion stopped and turned to him. “Vatar, once you walk past
this line your Ordeal begins. You may not set foot west of the tree line until
one year from today. Unless a brother stands forth to share your Ordeal, no
Dardani may assist you in any way until then. We will await you here on that
day. Good luck, Vatar. May you find favor with the Spirits who judge you.”

Vatar nodded once, not trusting his voice, and stepped
forward into the trees. He kept walking without looking back, as straight as the
trees and the uneven, rolling ground would permit. He walked until he was sure
he was out of sight of the plains. Only then did he stop and sit down on a
fallen log. This was as good a place as any. He might as well get started. He
would be here for the next year. For now, he would be fine sleeping under the
trees. He could build a shelter as the weather cooled. His immediate needs were
food and water.

Water first. Vatar looked around him for any clues on where
he might find water. Studying the horizon for the small knots of trees that
marked waterholes on the plains wasn’t going to work here.

Vatar shivered. It was cooler here in the shade of the
trees. The sun’s warmth hardly reached him. Like the missing Spirit of the
Lion, even that had been severed from him.

He’d never been this far into the Forest. All the trees
looked very much the same. As alike to him as blades of grass on the plains. He
looked up. He could make out where the sun was in the sky, but he wouldn’t be
able to see the stars when night came. Not clearly, anyway. He was used to
finding his way across the plains by landmarks and the location of the sun,
moon, and stars. He could get lost in here very easily. Vatar slipped his knife
out of its sheath and carved an arrow into the top of the log, pointing back
the way he had come. At least he’d be able to find his way back to the plains
on the correct day.

With a resigned sigh, he gathered some wood—one thing, at
least, that he would have no shortage of—and built a small fire. Besides warmth,
the fire would provide a beacon of sorts. Something he could use to find his
way back to this spot. Even if he couldn’t see it, he should be able to follow
the smell of smoke. It was the best he could do at the moment.

As he built the fire, some creature chittered angrily at him
from the surrounding trees. Several times Vatar stopped to look for the source
of the noise, but the creature was well hidden in the branches. Whatever it was
moved around from tree to tree. Finally, he looked up to see a squirrel-like
creature watching him from the end of a low branch. In any case, it was shaped
like a squirrel for the most part; it seemed to have a good deal of loose skin
on its sides. But it was larger than any squirrel Vatar had ever seen. And it
had a mane around its head, almost exactly like the mane of a lion. Vatar
ducked instinctively when the creature leaped from the branch, extending all
four legs. With its legs stretched out, the folds of loose skin on its sides
were pulled taut. The creature glided across to the next tree, almost like an
eagle riding the air currents.

“Well, you are a strange creature, aren’t you?” Vatar said,
more to hear the sound of a voice, even his own, than anything else. He smiled
when the squirrel chittered in response.

Vatar dismissed the strange squirrel from his mind and went
to explore his surroundings. A breeze moved the treetops, but the air was
mostly still at ground level. It was full of the musty, earthy smell of moist
leaves. Vatar found a stream not too far away. That was good. He would have no
trouble finding water.

Food next. He soon realized that he had no idea what plants
were edible. Well, he’d brought his long knife and his spear. He also had a bow
and a dozen arrows, although he had never been a very good archer. He’d just
have to hunt for his food. He could do that.

A rustle in the underbrush indicated some creature nearby.
Vatar gripped his spear and set himself to stalk his prey. Fallen leaves
rustled around his feet. Vatar froze. This wasn’t going to be the same as
hunting on the plains. When he heard no sounds of the prey, whatever it was,
running away, he took another step—and trod on a twig that broke with a snap. A
flash of brown and a bright white tail was all he saw of the deer he’d been
stalking. Vatar let out his breath. Well, no hunter ever caught
everything
he went after. He’d have better luck the next time.

Or maybe not. By the end of the day, the only thing he’d
found was a bush that bore a few bright red berries. Surely the berries would
be good to eat. Anyway, it was all he had, so he picked and ate them. After a
few wrong turns, he found his way back to the remains of his fire. Just in
time. He was struck by a violent stomach ache. He knelt on the ground and
vomited back the blood-red berries, but the cramps didn’t ease.

After several dry heaves, Vatar curled on his side and
wrapped the tiger skin around himself, too sick to even add more wood to the
fire. This wasn’t a very auspicious start to his Ordeal.

He woke to the chittering of the flying squirrel. It was
perched on a low branch, right above Vatar’s head, looking down at him. Vatar
wasn’t amused. Sleep, at least, had let him forget the cramps and nausea. He
sat up, vowing to himself that he would eat no more berries. But he needed to
eat
something
to counteract the remaining queasiness.

The tree directly above him was an oak. That meant acorns.
Vatar groaned. He hated acorn paste, but it was bland and it was nourishment.
And it was close. He dragged himself up and collected a dozen acorns from the
ground under the oak. He found a flat rock that was large enough and a smaller
rock that fit his hand and began to grind the acorns into paste. For some
reason, this really angered the squirrel, which kept up a constant tirade as he
worked. Chittering that stabbed into Vatar’s throbbing head like spikes.

~

Over the next days, Vatar began to think of the strange
little squirrel as ‘Chitter’, or sometimes just ‘Chit’. Not because it was a
pet—Chit was as much pest as pet. It woke him up with its chittering. And it
had an annoying habit of following him around and making noise at just the
wrong instant. But, perversely, it felt good—a little less lonely—to have it
around and to give it a name. Sometimes, waking up to see that maned face above
his, Vatar even felt that the Spirit of the Lion was somehow still watching
over him. That was oddly comforting.

But it didn’t change the facts of his existence here in the
Forest. At the end of a seven-day, with only one rabbit—an old and stringy
rabbit, at that—for the whole period, Vatar knew it was going to be a very long
year. He knew it had been seven days because he made a mark on the log every
morning to keep track.

He headed off to the stream to refill his water skin. No
danger of getting lost on that trek. He knew the way by now. Besides, he’d
carved arrows pointing back to his little camp on just about every tree in the
vicinity. It was better than a campfire for preventing him from getting lost.

After drinking his fill and bringing the full water skin back
to his camp, he sat down to make a sparse and miserable midday meal of coarsely
ground acorns. He looked up mid-chew when two men stepped into his camp. He
hadn’t heard them approach.
Spirits after all?
Vatar reached for his
knife before he recognized their clothing.
Not Spirits. Modgud.
He
relaxed and opened his mouth to greet them.

The taller one pointed in his direction. “Look, Bron, a
Dardani alone in the forest. That’s not something you see every day.”

“No, you don’t, Clev. Must be some sort of test of honor or
something,” his companion said.

Clev shrugged. “It could be.”

“Then we’d better not disturb him. We wouldn’t want to risk
putting a stain on his honor.” Bron winked in Vatar’s direction.

Clev turned so that he wasn’t looking directly at Vatar.
“Yes. But we have business of our own here.”

Bron turned, too. Almost as if they were purposefully
not
looking at Vatar. “Well, let’s get on with it, then. No need to involve him.”

“He might watch us and learn things about the Forest and how
to live here.”

Bron shrugged. “He might. That’s not our look out. He learns
what he learns.”

Vatar smiled, catching on. Arcas had said something about
finding unexpected help.

For three days, Bron and Clev kept up a constant patter. They
built themselves a lean-to shelter, all the while informing each other of the
proper way to construct the frame, the importance of choosing the right
branches, and how to attach them to the frame.

Then they walked around the area pointing out various trees,
shrubs, and other plants. Vatar followed, fascinated.

“Now, those berries,” Clev said, pointing to the berries
Vatar had sampled on his first day. “You don’t want to eat those berries raw.”

Bron nodded. “No, you don’t. Bad stomach ache if you eat those
raw. But if you cook them in a bit of water. . . “

“And then throw the cooking water away,” Clev added.

“Yes, don’t use the water. But the cooked berries are nice
and sweet.”

“Yes, they are. Now this bush,” Clev said, pointing to a
different type of shrub, “will have purple berries in about a month.”

“Indeed, and those can be eaten raw,” Bron said.

“Yes. And this tree will have a nice crop of nuts later in
the season, too.”

“And the root of this plant is good roasted.”

“Very good,” Clev agreed. “In a pinch, a man can boil the
bark of this tree.”

“Yes, it’s tough, but you can make do on it.”

When they came to the stream, Bron and Clev looked up stream
and down.

“Now, here you can see where the deer come down to drink at
night,” Bron said.

Clev nodded. “Yes. If a man wanted some venison, the thing
to do would be to climb this tree right here and wait for the deer to come
down.”

“Especially if he had a bow or a spear,” Bron added.

“A man could also make a fish trap, like this,” Clev said,
making a trap out of reeds and unnecessarily describing exactly how it was made
to Bron. “Then place the trap right over there by that rock.”

Vatar copied Clev as he made the fish trap.

At another place, they found signs of a rabbit warren.

“Now, to catch rabbits,” Clev said, “a man would use a
snare. Set it up right by one of these holes and catch a nice juicy rabbit by
morning.”

Clev and Bron made a rabbit snare, instructing each other
unnecessarily at every step. Once again, Vatar copied them.

On the fourth day, Bron and Clev prepared to leave.

“Now, for a man alone, tigers would be the main problem,”
Clev said.

“Yes, but not until winter. They’re deeper in the Forest at
this time of year.”

“Yes, that’s true. But when the snows start, a man would
want to keep a fire burning close by and stay in his shelter at night.”

“True. And he might mask his scent by using the leaves of
that bush over there. They smell really strong.”

“Yes, that would work,” Clev said.

“We’ll leave the shelter up. It’s possible that our business
will bring us back this way before winter,” Bron said as he and Clev left.

“Yes. It’s possible.”

In three days, neither man had addressed Vatar directly. In
fact, except for their first appearance, both men had steadfastly ignored his presence.
But when they left, Vatar had a shelter, a rabbit snare and a fish trap, and a
much better idea of how to survive at least the next few months.