The Sight (17 page)

Again the words of the verse came back to Palla, ‘
And the Searchers tempt nature to prey on its own
.’

Tsinga swung round her head as though looking for something in the shadows, and Larka thought of the times in the forest she had sensed something following her.

‘But come,’ she growled suddenly.  ‘You spoke of children, Palla.  There must be another.’

As soon as Fell came up Tsinga craned her head forwards and seemed to be testing the air.  For a moment the pack fancied they could almost see a light in her dead eyes.  Then, suddenly, the she-wolf started to shake.

‘No,’ she cried.

Tsinga’s jaws were beginning to foam with white froth as Fell backed away too.

‘I can’t .  ..’ she gasped, ‘can’t breathe.’

‘What is it, Tsinga?’ cried Palla in horror.  ‘Do you see anything?’

‘Stop it,’ growled Huttser suddenly.  ‘Enough of these cubs’ fables.  If it is true what you say then tell us simply how to defeat this evil.  Tell us how to destroy Morgra.’

Tsinga whirled round towards Huttser, snapping at the air.

‘You think you know where evil really lies, Huttser?’ she snarled scornfully.  ‘Because you believe that Morgra is evil? But was not a great injustice done to her? Perhaps the evil began there.  Perhaps it is always with us, like the Searchers.’

Huttser growled boldly but again Tsinga’s gaze was blank and pitiless.

‘But, Tsinga.  ..’

‘You believe too that I know what evil is,’ hissed Tsinga, ‘or how to fight it? But am I not blind? And does not my blindness make it hard for me to hunt and so make me all the more hungry? Tell me this, Huttser, when the time of the Putnar comes and the bloodlust is on you, can you look into the darkness and predict the future? Can you distinguish truth from lies, tell darkness from light?’

Tsinga suddenly swung her head towards the cubs who had all huddled together.

‘Beware the Betrayer,’ she hissed, ‘whose meaning is strife.’

Fell felt a queasy fear stealing through him.  Larka was petrified, but as the fear threatened to swamp her she suddenly felt an anger bubbling up inside her too.

‘Tsinga,’ she cried, stepping forward boldly.  ‘Tell me what this final power is then.  The final power of the Sight.’

Tsinga stopped dead in her tracks as she heard Larka’s voice and she seemed to trying to read something in the sound.

‘No,’ she growled, ‘you are still too young.  What does a mere cub know of the world? Nothing.  Nothing but innocence and games.’

Her parents were watching Larka and they both wondered what she would do.

‘I do know things,’ Larka cried, furious at Tsinga’s scorn, and even Fell was impressed with her now, for she had suddenly grown in stature.

‘I know that Morgra is looking for the child but that Tsarr has it.  Tsarr and his Helper, Skart, the proud Steppe eagle.  I know that the Balkar are seeking out Harja and that Morgra would find this cub and take it to the ancient citadel, the gateway to heaven.’

Tsinga seemed impressed too, as much with Larka’s courage as anything.

‘Then you know much already, my child,’ she whispered more kindly.

‘And I know that Morgra wants to sacrifice the human on the altar, to bring forth the final power.’

‘Sacrifice the child?’ said Tsinga with surprise, and she started to chuckle.  ‘Oh no, my dear.  Morgra needs the child.’ Larka looked crestfallen and suddenly rather small again.

‘But the altar must taste blood,’ said Palla.

‘Ah yes, and one must pay the price,’ growled Tsinga.

‘But Morgra needs the child.  Until the power of the Man Varg comes.’

‘Why does she need the child?’ said Palla.  ‘The Man Varg.  What is this creature?’

‘It is not a creature as such.  If the third power of the Sight is used at the altar to look into the human’s mind then together their sight shall be the sight of the Man Varg and a vision will be given.  A vision uniting past and future.  A vision containing a great secret about Man and Lera, the secret the Lera must know.  A vision so startling that all nature shall be forced to behold it.  A vision that shall herald the ultimate power of the Sight.’

‘Tell us what this power is.’

As Tsinga’s white eyes blazed back at them she suddenly looked magnificent.

‘First the Lera must be weakened by the Searchers.  Then the trap will be sprung.  For as they turn to watch, frightened and ashamed, then the wolf shall touch all the animals’ minds in the same moment and enslave the Lera for ever.  Then,’ cried Tsinga, ‘shall come forth the greatest Putnar the world has ever known.’

Palla swung round to Huttser in horror as Tsinga’s voice echoed around them.

‘Enslave all the Lera,’ gasped Larka, and Fell looked up.

 ‘What?’ growled Bran.  ‘With mastery over their very souls?’

The wolves could hardly believe what they were hearing.  So this was the final power.  The pack stared at Tsinga.  Now her valley seemed truly full of shadows.

‘It’s what the verse said.’ Palla trembled next to her daughter.  ‘Now I remember it.  In the mind of the Man Varg, then none shall be free.’

The pack was dwarfed by the shadows reaching down from the mountains.

‘Then this is the evil,’ growled Huttser, ‘the evil the family must conquer.  Slaves, slaves to the Man Varg.  Even the untamed wolf.’

But even as he said it Tsinga had started to chuckle again.  The laughter rose inside her, swelling from her belly.  It was as though, as she stood between those two rocks, she would shatter the stone with the sound.

‘Still you talk of evil,’ she cried madly.  ‘But some believe the Lera were always slaves.  Slaves to hunger and instinct and their own blind forgetfulness.  And I was a wolf once.  Strong as the morning.  Fast as the starling.  But now look at me.  Am I not a slave?’

The pack stared back helplessly at Tsinga and she dropped her head almost shamefully.

‘But perhaps you speak the truth, Huttser,’ she whispered, ‘perhaps the Man Varg is the greatest evil.  We shall see.’

‘Then we must help Larka defeat this legend?’ Palla whispered.

‘No, Palla,’ snarled Huttser suddenly.  ‘We came to ask if Larka’s gift could help us fight the curse, that’s all.  So we can live in peace and freedom and hunt wild and mark our boundaries.’

‘Freedom?’ snorted Tsinga, starting to chuckle hoarsely again.  ‘Boundaries? Do you think the power of the Sight respects boundaries?’

But this time the eerie laughter subsided quickly and when Tsinga spoke again her voice was full of fear.

‘No,’ she cried, ‘if yours is truly this family you must find the human.  Find Tsarr and Skart.  Only they can teach Larka now.’

‘Find the child?’ whispered Larka in a frightened voice.

‘But we should have nothing to do with Man.  It is the oldest law.’

‘There are other laws,’ said Tsinga strangely.  ‘Laws far deeper than the Varg could dream up.  Besides, you are linked to the child already, Larka.’

Tsinga’s words echoed through the darkness and Larka looked up in horror.

‘But this child,’ she said, ‘how could I find it? I don’t even know where it is.’

‘Perhaps the child,’ whispered Tsinga, ‘perhaps the child will find you.’

Fell and Kar both looked at Larka in astonishment.

‘But, Tsinga,’ said Palla desperately, ‘will you not teach Larka?’

‘Peace,’ cried Tsinga suddenly, ‘I’m tired and you have heard enough for now.  I am hungry and would have you hunt.  With these eyes I must make do with vermin I catch by chance.  Even those blackbirds wouldn’t come to me until I’d bated the trap with a field mouse.  It would be good to feed like a true wolf again.  We will speak further.’

Tsinga would say nothing more.  She settled by her rock, among the scatterings of little bones, muttering and laughing grimly to herself.  Bran and the children lay down at the edge of the clearing, wondering fearfully about all they had heard, as Huttser took Palla off to hunt for the fortune-teller.  As they went, Palla told Bran to guard the young wolves and not to speak with Tsinga again until they got back.

Bran had no intention of approaching Tsinga.  He was petrified and, as he heard the hunters howling in the night and listened to the wind stirring the trees, the moving shadows seemed haunted by spectres – of Wolfbane and the Searchers and their dead friends.

Tsinga’s strange words echoed in all their thoughts, though each had been stirred by a different aspect of the legend.  Kar shuddered as he thought of a power to enslave all the Lera.  Fell kept thinking of the Vision prophesied at this altar and what great secret it held of Man and animals.  But Larka wondered whether it really was possible to escape a legend.  She was greatly relieved when the first rays of morning stroked the tops of the forest and she saw Huttser and Palla returning with their kill.

‘Good,’ dribbled Tsinga as she gulped down the last tender scraps of venison and the light swelled around them, glinting on those ugly white orbs.  ‘Now I can think more clearly.  Larka, rest near me and tell me of your journey.’

The pack was lying around Tsinga again, though Bran was as far away as he could possibly get and still overhear her.  As Larka settled reluctantly next to her and described what had happened during the hunt and in the graveyard and at the rapids, Tsinga suddenly threw back her head.

‘This is strange,’ she sniffed greedily.  ‘But perhaps yours is truly this family.’

Larka’s heart sank like a stone.

‘Why, Tsinga?’

‘Did you not hear? The verse tells of the makers of life, Larka, that shall test the family.  Their faith shall be tried by the makers of life.’

‘The makers of life,’ growled Larka, ‘Tor and Fenris you mean?’

Tsinga shook her head slowly.

‘For a fortune-teller, the makers of life are the four elements, Larka.  Water, air, earth, and fire, the element which Man captures to make his burning air.  And there is a fifth, the source of dreams and nightmares.  Your pack has already been touched by three.’

‘How, Tsinga?’

‘Earth at the pit and in the grave,’ growled Tsinga, and Larka shuddered as she remembered her fall, ‘air when you flew with the birds, and water at the rapids.  As you go, Larka, beware of fire.  And above all the fifth element.’

‘What is it, Tsinga?’said Larka, lowering her ears pitifully.

‘Ice,’ hissed Tsinga, ‘the still element, that holds all in potential.’

Larka let out a little whimper.

‘But tell me, Larka,’ said Tsinga suddenly, ‘just before the Sight came on you.  What was happening, and what did you feel?’

As Larka described the visitations Tsinga sniffed again, delightedly.

‘Yes, yes,’ she muttered, as if welcoming an old friend to a meal, ‘fear and death are the oldest gateways to the gift.  Until you find Skart and Tsarr, Larka, and begin to learn to use the powers of the Sight properly – to see as the birds see, to peer into water and look on far off realities, far more clearly than a foolish old fortune-teller.  Over the centuries there have been many who could not bear to live with that knowledge.’

Larka looked at her parents desperately.

‘But you see things,’ growled Larka.  ‘Can’t you teach me?’

Tsinga’s voice was suddenly caught between laughter and tears.

‘Would you see through these eyes, my dear,’ she cried, ‘through the eyes of a mad, blind wolf? No, Larka.  I do not wield the Sight.  I could touch part of it once as all fortune-tellers can.  I could look into the water and see far off realities.  To do that you must first invoke the power of memory, for there lies the secret pattern of things, and then send your senses whispering out to the present and even the future.’

Larka looked up and a breeze was stirring the forest.

‘But I spent so long gazing and searching that it destroyed my eyes.  It left me in the dark, but with the curse to know something of what must come.  And it left me with my memories.  But above all it left me blind, Larka, as blind as the great statue herself.’

‘Statue?’ growled Larka.

‘Yes,’ whispered Tsinga, ‘above the altar at Harja.  The statue of the she-wolf.’

Even as she spoke an image flashed into Tsinga’s brain.  There it stood before her mind’s eye, just as she had spied it one bleak winter’s day, so many years before.  Among the ruined temples of Harja, long worn away by centuries of erosion, battered by wind and snow and shaken by the earth tremors that so frequently visited the haunches of the mountain; the giant stone image of a she-wolf and, at her belly, two suckling human infants.

Though it had grown up as an ordinary settlement, the citadel had become a sacred place.  The Romans had made it a place of worship and of augury, and a cult had grown up dedicated to that statue, for the Romans had long told a story about the founding of their first city.  A story of male twins, Romulus and Remus, who had been suckled at her belly; a story that lived in their minds not so much as a truth, but with the power that myth lives in the heart of an ancient people.

‘Then Harja does exist,’ whispered Palla, ‘and you know the way.’

‘Knew the way, but how could I find it now? But I have said enough,’ said Tsinga suddenly.  ‘Perhaps too much already.  I am forgetting the single most important law of the Sight.  Larka must learn and choose for herself.’

‘But, Tsinga,’ Palla interrupted.

‘That is the only way, Palla—’ snapped Tsinga.  ‘On her journey she must discover all she can of Man too, for whatever she decides, knowledge alone can help her to fight.  Morgra already knows much of Man, and Larka must beware of her, for those with the Sight can sometimes touch each other’s minds, especially in close proximity.’

The pack wondered what Tsinga meant about Morgra knowing much of Man, but it echoed what Morgra herself had said that sun.

‘Now you must all hurry.’

‘Don’t worry, Tsinga,’ growled Huttser, ‘I will not let anything hurt my family.  We will defeat this curse.  And live.’

‘Haven’t you understood yet?’ snarled Tsinga, ‘The vision offers a power over all the Lera.  If yours is the family, it is not just for your own sakes that you must survive now, but for life itself.  So guard each other.  For if one is lost, I fear for us all.  Now go.  Get beyond the boundaries as quickly as you can.  Once you have done that your journey will have only just begun.’