The Veil Weavers (8 page)

Buffalo Travel

T
he next two days were a misery.
Total, complete misery. Our legs were rubbed
raw and our spines jolted into agony. Uphill was bad. Downhill was worse. Maddy and I were desperate to walk, but Brox wouldn’t let us.

“Keeper asked us to take you to the weavers. We will do as he asked. If he thought you could walk, he would be walking with you. But we are faster.”

They were faster. The magic did something to them, making them really good travellers. They always knew where they were, always knew where to go next, always knew the best path. We covered ground faster than any horse could, and squeezed down paths I would have thought were much too narrow.

As fast as we travelled, though, it was never fast enough for the crows. They were always pushing, always urging us on. Soon I was feeling it too, an anxiety to do something, to accomplish something, to fix this.

While we travelled, Brox talked, except when Vivienne chose to sing.

“Why do you like human songs so much?” Maddy asked.

Vivienne shook her head. “Not human songs. All songs. I like to sing. If otter-people had songs, I’d sing those, too.”

I laughed, imagining Eneirda’s look of horror if she heard this.

“I tried bird songs...” She shook her head again and woofed softly.

“We like to slip into the human world and listen by campfires,” said Brox. “That’s where Vivienne learns her songs. And I learn a great deal, too.” He rumbled at the back of his throat, and continued.

“We’re heading southwest, from Castle across the Bow Valley,” Brox said. “I’m using human names so it will make sense to you. We’ll climb over the ridge towards Storm Mountain, down into the valley, and keep heading southwest to the Rockwall. It’s all in a straight line – rather surprising, really, for mountain travel. We usually only see that in the prairies. Of course, there’s lots of up and down to make it interesting.”

I groaned. Interesting wasn’t what I would call it.

By late afternoon we’d finally crested the pass above the Bow Valley. I was happy when Brox insisted we walk around for a few minutes, but climbing off was almost more painful than staying up. Maddy and I dug out a snack and drank from our water sacks. The water tasted like old leather.

“We can see our whole route from here,” said Brox. “Behind us, we can see Castle.”

It looked huge from here, and very much like a castle, perched high above the river valley.

“If we turn and look ahead, we can see the river valley we’ll follow to the Rockwall.”

“Where is it?” asked Maddy.

“Right at the end of the valley,” said Brox.

I looked down the valley to the mountains blocking the end of it. Instead of a series of mountains lined up in a row, it looked like a solid wall, with the only gaps high along the ridge. “The weavers are at the base of the Rockwall?” I asked, hopeful but doubting.

“No, high up in the clouds.” He said it like that would be a beautiful place to live.

I just felt depressed. How were we going to get up there?

Maddy and I stood on a big rock to get back onto Brox and Vivienne. I boosted Maddy and held her while she wiggled into place, and then I threw myself on to Brox’s back, grabbed handfuls of fur, and squirmed until I could get one leg over the far side. Brox snorted and harrumphed, but he stayed still while I struggled.

As soon as we were settled, he headed down the steep drop into the valley. I leaned back, gritting my teeth as sore spots rubbed.

Vivienne began to sing:

Come, follow follow follow,

follow follow follow me.

Whither shall I follow follow follow,

whither shall I follow follow thee?

To the greenwood, to the greenwood,

to the greenwood, greenwood tree.

“We should sing this as a round,” said Brox.

“What?” asked Maddy. “A round?”

“Indeed,” said Brox. “We all sing together; then we divide into three groups, and all start at different times.”

Maddy giggled. “That would sound terrible!”

“No, no,” said Brox. “We start at precise moments, so the sounds all fit together.” He paused, and said in a soft voice, “It would make Vivienne very happy.”

Maddy’s mouth twitched. “Then we should definitely do it. How do we divide in three?”

I sagged. “Maddy,” I muttered.

“We’ll sing,” she said, laughing at me. “Josh, when are you ever in all your life going to have another chance to sing rounds with buffalo?”

I started to grin in spite of myself.

Vivienne organized us. “First, we’ll sing all together. Then, um, Maddy – you’ll be first. I’ll start with you to help you get going. Then Josh and Brox together – Josh, you’ll have to sing loudly. I’m afraid Brox cannot carry a tune.”

I coughed to cover my laugh. This was going to be a disaster.

“I’ll come in third.” She sang the song for us, and then we joined her, all together. Then, conducting with her head, she gestured for Maddy to begin.

Brox definitely couldn’t carry a tune, but he made up for it in volume. We followed each other through the song, around and around, until we were too tired to continue.

We kept moving as we sang, down towards Storm Mountain. The crows kept their distance, distressed by Brox’s singing.

Trees blocked our view of the Rockwall as we descended into the valley, and then it disappeared entirely as snow began to fall. Fat flakes drifted down, landing lightly on our hair and eyelashes. Soon we were coated in gleaming white.

The clouds thickened, the sky darkened, and more snow fell. I was mesmerized by the flakes flying at me. They layered on my hair and my eyelashes and melted on my cheeks.

Brox plodded on. I couldn’t tell if he knew exactly where he was going, or if he was just walking because there was nothing else to do.

I didn’t want to say anything. Even after singing together, I still felt intimidated by the buffalo. But we couldn’t ride through the storm all night. “We need to find shelter,” I said.

“We’re almost there,” said Brox.

“At the Rockwall?” Maddy asked.

“No,” he said, snorting. “That’s for tomorrow. We’re almost at your shelter for the night.” He looked up at the sky, flakes falling into his eyes. “Corvus,” he bellowed. “Corvus!”

Nothing. The snow muffled even his voice.

“Ah, well, we’ll find them,” said Brox, as he plodded on.

He headed down to a stream, crashing through bushes and pushing his nose into snowy banks. When cliffs rose above the stream, Brox harrumphed in satisfaction. “Almost there.”

Then an otter-person jumped up and whacked him on the nose. “
Sssst!
That is close enough!”

Brox snorted and backed into Vivienne, who stumbled into the stream. Maddy shrieked and clung to snow-slicked fur.

The otter-person wasn’t as tall as Greyfur, but she had the same grey hair across her head and shoulders. She said, “Crows told us you were coming.
Sssst!
You are not welcome here.”

“The children need a warm place to spend the night,” said Brox, calm but insistent.

“
Humans
are not welcome,” she said.

More otter-people emerged out of the storm and gathered around the first, watchful and wary. Crows joined us, too, quietly settling on snow-covered branches.

I didn’t want to push in where we clearly weren’t wanted, but the storm was getting worse and Maddy and I needed a safe place to sleep. I shook the snow off my head, wiped my face, and said, “We need to learn how to repair the veil. It is the Will of the Gathering.” I didn’t need any proof – magic resonated in my words.

The otter-people froze, only their eyes moving as they looked back and forth among themselves. Finally the grey-haired otter-person said, “You believe you can fix veil?”

“That is his task,” said Brox.

“Sssst!
Will he succeed?”

“No other can,” said Brox, snorting softly.

“But –”

Vivienne interrupted. “He needs our help.”

“Very well,” said the otter-person. “
Chrrr
. They may come in. But only the humans. None others,
tss
.” She glared at the crows.

Brox and Vivienne nodded, but the crows cawed in a clamour. She ignored them. When they settled on the trees and bushes nearest the cave, she frowned. They glared back.

I slid off Brox’s back and staggered, my legs stiff from the ride, my back aching, my shoulders throbbing. I caught Maddy and steadied her as she struggled to keep her balance on wobbly legs. Then we pulled down our bags and our blankets and shook off as much snow as we could.

“No buffalo furs,
sssst!
” said the otter-person, her nose turned up. “They are too smelly.”

Brox grunted. “They’re humans. They need blankets for warmth.”

Sighing, she nodded again, and gestured for us to enter her cave, a dark opening in the cliff wall.

“Will you be all right in the storm?” I asked Brox. “You and Vivienne and the crows?”

Brox snorted with laughter, a rough
hoff
hoff
. “Of course. We do not need caves. We will be fine. We will stay nearby, and make sure Gronvald doesn’t come.”

I shivered – I’d forgotten about Gronvald. Trusting that Aleena and the crows would warn us if he did show up, I followed Maddy inside.

The cave was musky and dark and warm. Woven grass mats covered the floor, and baskets and pouches of reed and grass were set along the walls.

A crowd of otter-people followed us in. They collected their things and left quietly, leaving us alone with the grey-haired otter-person, a younger otter-woman almost as tall as me holding a baby, and two small otter-children.

“This is my daughter Reynar,” said the grey-haired one, “and her children,
hnn
. Baby Folens, and twins Drenba and Dreylac.” Reynar had rich red-brown fur and pale skin, as did little Folens. The twins’ fur was bright red-gold, and their skin had a golden sheen.

Reynar nodded, but said nothing. The twins peeked at us from behind her. Maddy smiled at them and they ducked out of sight.

“I am Greyfur,” said the grey-haired otter-person.

“Greyfur?” asked Maddy. “We know another Greyfur.”

“
Chrrr
. You are lucky,” she answered. “Greyfur is name of respect for all old enough to have grey hair.” She pointed to a corner of the cave vacated by those who’d left. “You may sleep there.”

We placed our bags and blankets on the mats, and started to strip off our snowy outerwear.

Greyfur said, “Leave clothes,
tss
. Eat first, outside. We do not light fires inside!” I could hear Eneirda’s scorn of humans in her voice.

Somehow the otter-people had managed to light a fire in the snowstorm, tucked out of the wind against the cliff wall. Soon they were grilling fish threaded on sticks – small trout, I guessed.

Maddy and I were ravenous. Although we don’t usually like fish, we devoured this. The otter-people ate, too, but they ate their fish raw.

The small fire provided enough light to find our way back to the entrance to the cave, but once inside it was too dark to see. Maddy and I stumbled around until, finally, we stood still in the middle of the cave.

“What is wrong?” asked Greyfur.

“It’s dark,” said Maddy.

“Yes,
hnn
. Is night. Is not dark in human world at night?”

I laughed. “Yes, of course it is, but we have lights. We don’t see well in the dark,” I explained, finally understanding the problem.

“
Hnn
,” she said. “Humans.”

“Josh, could you use your firestone?” Maddy asked.

“Would that be okay?” I asked Greyfur.

“If magic to spare, better to warm cave for Folens.”

There was so much unsaid in her sentence, but without being able to see her face, I couldn’t interpret it. If I had magic to spare – did that mean they did not? They didn’t have enough magic to keep their babies warm?

I pulled the firestone out of my pocket and let magic flow into it, just enough for a soft glow. Maddy and I found our corner, and pulled off our jackets. It was warmer than outside, but not warm enough for little children.

The twins stared as we peeled off layers of clothes, curiosity and horror in their eyes. Maddy laughed and held out a mitten. Hesitantly, they touched it. She slipped it on her hand, took it off again, and gave it to them. They took turns trying it on.

While they played, I let magic fill my body and radiate throughout the cave. As I thought of warmth, the air temperature slowly rose, until a gust of wind from outside blew past it. I walked to the entrance to the cave and drew a barrier of magic just thick enough to stop the wind.

When I turned back the twins were staring at Maddy, eyes huge, mouths open. Maddy was kneeling beside them, coaxing the elastic out of her ponytail. Slowly, she ran her fingers through her hair, working out the tangles. Drenba and Dreylac crept closer, fascinated.