The Sight (14 page)

They had been travelling for several suns when Skop came up behind Huttser at the brow of the rocky hill.  Huttser already knew what was in Skop’s mind as they gazed out at the land rolling before them.

‘This.is where I leave you, Huttser,’ said Skop quietly.

‘Tsinga’s valley takes you directly east but it will be quicker if I bear north-east now, for I have travelled that route once before.  Will you be all right?’

‘Yes, my friend,’ answered Huttser.  ‘We shall survive.’

‘I wonder why Tsinga’s wood is really called the Vale of Shadows?’ growled Skop, as they stood there.

‘Well, it can’t be because of a two-headed wolf,’ answered Huttser as scornfully as he could, ‘or a river that eats any that try to cross.  Though we’ll find out soon enough.’

‘Yes.’

‘I almost wish I could come with you, Skop.  It would be good to have something real to fight.’

Skop shook his head thoughtfully.

‘Huttser,’ he growled, ‘you must guard your family now and find your own freedom.  My sister does not really agree, but I think you are right.  Mark your territory and keep everything out.  I don’t know how to fight shadows, Huttser, so I will go in search of something I can smell and taste.  If Morgra seeks a power that is evil, I want to be a part of the battle.  If I find these rebels all the better, but if I ever find Morgra again, I shall kill my half-sister myself.’

Huttser growled with a cold approval as he looked back at Skop.

‘But, Huttser, remember what Palla heard the rebels saying that night – if they have sworn to destroy anything connected with the Sight, they are a danger to you too.  Perhaps I can reason with this Slavka, if I find her – tell her what is happening.’

Huttser nodded gravely.

‘And, Huttser,’ said Skop suddenly, his voice filling with tenderness but regret too, ‘look after Kar.  He is all that is left of my pack.’

Huttser’s gaze was confused by the sight of Kar standing between his own cubs, but he nodded nonetheless.  Skop padded over to Palla and stood talking quietly with his sister for a while, then he trotted up to Kar.  The young wolf kept shaking his head angrily as Skop spoke to him and soon Skop turned away.  Wolves hate farewells, and Kar watched him sadly as he bounded off up the slope.  As Skop turned to give them a final look of parting, Palla padded up beside Kar.

‘Don’t worry, Kar,’ she whispered kindly, ‘he’ll be all right.’

‘Why must he go, Palla?’

‘Skop was always a fighter, Kar.  Even as a cub.  He wants to find this rebel pack and with winter so close he has to cross the mountains before the snows hit.’

‘But why is he leaving me behind?’ cried Kar bitterly.

‘Why can’t I go with him?’

‘You are still too young, Kar.  But don’t worry.  You have us now.  We are your family.’

Kar looked up meekly at Palla as Skop disappeared over the hill, but as Palla mentioned a family he shuddered too.  He suddenly felt terribly lonely and as the pack set off again he ran over to Bran and Kipcha.  The Sikla was whispering nervously to Huttser’s sister.

‘We don’t know who will be next, Kipcha,’ Bran growled under his breath.  ‘Brassa said that this journey would be dangerous, so we’ve got to watch each other’s backs.  I only hope Fenris lets us escape the boundaries.’

Kar shuddered but Kipcha hardly seemed to hear Bran.  Her eyes were fixed on Larka and, as she thought once more of Khaz lying dead in the pit, her look became cold and resentful.

The pack travelled on for six suns, and they were cresting another hill when the children heard a strange noise.  Below them lay a river that sent up the grumbling thunder of the great rapids they had been seeking.  Bran was growing increasingly nervous as they threaded down the slope, for what he had heard of Tsinga and the Vale of Shadows had almost frightened him as much as his thoughts of Wolfbane.

The noise grew steadily around them, and as the wolves got to the bottom of the slope the children bounded eagerly towards Huttser.  They gasped, though, as they looked down.  Palla and Kipcha were peering out nervously over the edge at the torrent tearing through the rock walls beneath them.  The updraft made the wolves’ fur quiver and ripple.r Br The water crashed and boomed furiously as it fought its way down the rocky canyon.  Bran could not help thinking it looked just as if it might have been formed from the saliva of a thousand feeding packs.

The mountain here was in steps, so that in the river below them, beyond two great boulders that edged the top of a waterfall, rapids had formed where the cavern narrowed and fell and here the foaming white water was churned to a frenzy before it reached a second massive fall and spilt down around a jagged rock.

‘We don’t have to cross that, Father?’ gulped Larka as she saw the drop.  Staring into the churning white rapids, Larka wondered what it would be like for the soul never to find a resting place.  Fell thought of the second power of the Sight again, to look into water and see things of far off realities.  It was Bran who was remembering Morgra’s curse.

Huttser began to thread carefully down the slope.  The river here was calmer than elsewhere and he noticed that there were several boulders sticking above the surface and, at a point, where the jump between two flat rocks was too far to leap, a tree had fallen from the far bank and lay across like a bridge.  Huttser could see a clear path to the other side.

‘It doesn’t look too difficult,’ he called.

In a single spring the wolf had leapt to the near rock.  As he went something was watching him, high in the trees above them.

‘Careful, Huttser,’ whispered Bran from the safety of the bank.

The next jump was greater and as Huttser landed he felt his paws slip on the rock.  But Huttser kept his balance and the others had already begun to follow from the river bank.  Huttser crossed easily to the flat rock.  In front of him lay the length of the fallen tree, one or two of its branches trailing into the water, but most stripped away by the force of current.

Huttser stepped up on to it very carefully.  It felt firm under his paws and he padded forward more confidently, stopping in the middle of the log to look downstream.  Directly ahead were the two great boulders where the river plunged over the edge to the rapids.  Huttser turned round again as he reached the end of the log.  Palla, Fell and Kar were close behind.

Larka too stepped on to the log as her mother neared the end.  But as she saw the water on either side of her, Larka suddenly felt dizzy.  It surprised the young wolf, for she had often run blithely across the hollow log at the Meeting Place without falling or feeling the slightest uncertainty.  Even as she thought about her own fear Larka felt herself beginning to totter precariously.

‘Kipcha.  Bran,’ called Huttser, as Palla and Fell sprang on to the grass beside him, ‘hurry up there.’

They were still hovering on the far bank as Kar too reached the far side.

‘Go on, Kipcha,’ whispered Bran nervously.  ‘I’ll be behind you.’

They jumped easily enough across the rocks and Kipcha sprang on to the log behind Larka, but Bran almost slipped on the last rock.  He stood there trembling furiously.

‘Bran,’ cried Huttser angrily, ‘come on, will you?’

‘I can’t, Huttser...  it’s not safe.’

‘Nonsense, just jump.’

Kipcha was hardly aware what was happening as Huttser shouted at the Sikla but as she saw Larka in front of her a dark shadow crossed her mind.  Perhaps it was true, perhaps it was Larka that had brought the curse down on the pack.  Just for a moment, she thought how easy it might be to knock Larka off the tree.  Even as Kipcha thought it Bran closed his terrified eyes and flung himself towards the log.

‘Bran, you fool, look what you’re doing,’ snarled Huttser.  The others gasped as they saw the log move.  Larka sprang to safety before the trailing vines holding it in place broke, but as the wet moss on the log’s upper sides came in contact with the smooth stones it was resting on, it rolled.  Bran and Kipcha were flung into the churning waters.  Kipcha felt the horror of nightmares enfold her as she plunged into the river.

‘Kipcha,’ gasped Huttser.

The current overcame them and they were both swept through that churning stone gateway and vanished into the void.

‘Quick,’ snarled Huttser, pushing past Palla.

They leapt after Huttser.  The pack reached the lower bank, and as they stared at the tumbling waterfall that dropped from the high boulders and turned the river to spray, they trembled in horror at the empty surface below.

Suddenly two muzzles burst into the air.  Kipcha and Bran, released from the grip of the falls, were gasping for breath and fighting for their lives as the river swept them away.

‘The curse,’ gasped Palla.  ‘It’s hunting us down.’

‘Hurry,’ cried Huttser, springing after them.

Ahead, in the path of the rapids, the river’s course was cut by boulders and jagged rocks and the water careered left and right, swerving around the obstacles or smashing against their sides as it carried the wolves downstream.

‘Fight, Kipcha!’ cried Huttser furiously.

A boulder loomed in front of their friends, but the water suddenly swung them safely past it.

‘No,’ growled Palla, ‘don’t fight it.  Trust the water.  Let it carry you to safety.’

Neither Kipcha nor Bran could hear Palla above the thunder of the gorge, but their own exhaustion came to their rescue now, for they could no longer fight the river’s fury.  As the wolves struggled less, only able to paddle as they kept their heads above the surface, the water, finding its own way through this gauntlet of stone, swept them left and right, past rock after rock.

‘They’re still all right,’ sighed Huttser as the rapids began to ease.

‘But look,’ trembled Palla.

Beyond, a sudden water chute led straight to the second falls.  They could hear its booming voice on the wind already and Kipcha and Bran were beginning to spin again, moving out straight towards it.

‘Fight,’ cried Palla, ‘now is the time.  It’s now or never.’ Bran heard her and began to struggle again.  His efforts had some effect and steadily the sodden wolf began to move towards the shore.  But Kipcha just spun helplessly towards the second drop.

‘Kipcha,’ cried Huttser desperately.

Kipcha was beyond fighting.  The river was irresistible and Kipcha’s spirits had failed her.  At first she had struggled out of sheer instinct, but as the rapids had slackened and she felt herself floating on the surface, a strange feeling came over her.  Guilt consumed her for what she had secretly thought of doing to Larka.  With guilt came exhaustion and despair.  But as the feelings washed through her, Kipcha suddenly felt the pain that had haunted her since Khaz’s death lifting from her.  She no longer wanted to fight.

‘Khaz,’ she moaned faintly, as she vanished over the second drop, ‘Khaz.’

Bran had pulled himself on to the bank and the wolves leapt past him to the edge and looked down.

‘No!’ cried Huttser in agony.  ‘Sister!’

The she-wolf had been thrown out towards the giant boulder they had seen from the hill, and now her sodden body lay broken across the vicious rock.  The boulder’s granite side was stained with her blood.  Huttser stood dumbfounded as Bran, dripping and exhausted, slunk up between them.  The Sikla peered down and, when he saw her, Bran began to whimper.

‘First Brassa,’ he trembled, ‘Now Kipcha too.  The curse is breaking the pack.  One by one.’

Huttser turned and snarled furiously.

‘You dare!’ he cried.  ‘You did this, Bran.  You.  It was your fault.’

‘Not me, Huttser,’ pleaded Bran.  ‘Morgra.’

Huttser sprang at him and Bran dropped on his front paws, whimpering pitifully.  Larka and Kar looked terrified for the Sikla, but Fell suddenly found the sight disgusting and he snorted.

‘Please,’ implored Larka, ‘please don’t...’

‘Huttser, stop it.’

Palla had sprung between them and the she-wolf’s anger held Huttser in check.  He growled at Palla, but her eyes held his gaze.

‘You mustn’t give Morgra what she wants, Huttser.  We must stick together.  Not fight.’

‘But this...  this coward.  This Sikla.’

‘No, Huttser,’ said Palla more softly.  ‘It wasn’t Bran’s fault.  The vines broke.’

The strength in Palla’s eyes seemed to calm Huttser.

‘But, Palla,’ he whispered bitterly, ‘she was my sister.’

‘I know, Huttser, and I am sorry.  But we need each other more than ever now.  We must think of the pack, and of Larka.  But your sister, Huttser,’ added Palla sadly, ‘at least...  at least she didn’t drown.  The fall made her end a swift one.’

Huttser stood there helplessly, but at last the Dragga nodded.

‘Get up, Bran,’ he growled.

The wolves stood above the gorge, hardly able to speak, the adults staring at the children as the sightless water thundered about them.  Huttser looked at the sliver of green in Fell’s eye and then into Larka’s strong face.  He did not understand the strange gift that had been given to his daughter, nor Brassa’s words about the legend or a family to fight the evil.  But if Tor and Fenris themselves were hunting them, it would be his teeth that they would feel first, before a single tuft of fur on their coats was harmed.

‘Huttser,’ said Palla gently, lifting her tail.  ‘We have each other.  What stronger pack could there be? But we must hurry.’

Huttser paused, then for the first time, he nodded in real assent.  With that there was a sudden screech through the trees.  High above the gorge a buzzard had landed on a branch overhanging the rapids and begun to call.  Its piercing, hungry cries shook the dying canopy and in the distance another bird answered it.

‘They are calling for us to help them open the carcass,’ whispered Palla sadly.

Larka shivered as she thought again of the first power of the Sight.  Huttser looked bitterly at his sister for the final time.  At last he turned away, but as he did so none of the pack knew the secret that Kipcha had carried with her to her death.  That Khaz’s cubs had been stirring inside her.  As Huttser led the dwindling pack from the rapids, another bird was watching them from the secrecy of the trees and its eyes were not fixed on Kipcha at all, they were looking at Bran.  It was Kraar.