Ghost Hunter by Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor Page B
Authors: Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor
Tags: General, Historical, Juvenile Fiction, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Horror & Ghost Stories, Prehistory
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when she has you, she will send a thaw, and the antlered ones can eat."
Torak grasped the significance of the steam bath: a ritual purification. He gave a wry smile. "So I'm a sacrifice."
Juksakai did not reply.
Renn looked stricken.
The dogs were restless in the night, and Torak slept badly. Renn, too, appeared tired; and she wouldn't meet his eyes. Torak felt the tension between them. He'd known for a while that she was keeping something from him. He wondered when she would have the courage to tell him.
137
Another overcast day, and the Mountains stayed hidden. The Swans led them through a snowy pass that followed a rushing river upstream. The ground rose so steeply that Torak and Renn had to use their hands to climb. Breathless, they lagged behind.
The Swans pitched camp by the river, at the mouth of a deep ravine. Two shelters were swiftly built by stretching hides over existing walls of stone and peat: the remains of Mages' shelters, said Juksakai.
Renn slumped on a rock and put her head on her knees.
Torak took deep breaths, but still felt breathless. "What's wrong with us?" he panted.
"We're getting near the sky," said Juksakai. "Less air. Spirits don't need to breathe." Nervously, he fingered his wristband. "This is as far as we go. Tomorrow you're on your own."
Renn sat up. "You mean ..."
Juksakai nodded. "The Gorge of the Hidden People."
Torak took a few steps toward the ravine. Precipitous cliffs reared above him, overhung by strange, twisted crags like enormous creatures peering down. A rocky trail wound inward, following the river. Cloud seeped from the Gorge, shielding the Mountain from view--but Torak felt its icy breath. He saw the Swans muttering prayers; Renn touching the clan-creature feathers tied around her waist.
138
After a silent nightmeal, Juksakai took a portion of fish, made a reverent bow to the river, and cast the fish in the water. "This is one of the veins of the Mountain," he explained.
Torak asked its name, and Juksakai replied sternly that it was never spoken aloud. "But I think you in the Forest call it the Redwater."
"The Redwater?" Torak was startled.
"You know it?"
"I--yes. It was near the Redwater that my father died."
Leaving Juksakai, he climbed down the bank and stared at the foaming water. This felt like an omen: the past thrusting into the present, like old bones emerging after a thaw.
An eerie twilight bathed the camp. As Torak turned to face the Gorge, the clouds parted--and at last there it was: the Mountain of Ghosts. Distant still, yet it towered above him. Snow streamed from its single, perfect peak which held up the sky. Its white flanks seemed lit from within by its own sacred light.
For three summers, Torak had pursued his quest against the Soul-Eaters over Sea and Ice, Forest and Lake--and it had brought him here. In a flash, he perceived that on those far-off slopes, he would meet his destiny. And for him, nothing lay beyond. On the Mountain, he would die.
139
This was what Renn had been keeping from him. This was the dread which had been growing inside him.
Panic flared. Run. Let someone else fight Eostra. You never asked for this.
But what about Fa?
The thought dropped into his mind like a pebble in a pool. In some way that he couldn't yet fathom, his father's spirit was linked to this: his final quest against the last of the Soul-Eaters. He couldn't turn his back on Fa.
As he stood craning his neck at the Mountain, a great loneliness opened up inside him. He needed Wolf.
Putting his hands to his lips, he howled for his pack-brother.
The echoes wound into the Gorge of the Hidden People: fainter and fainter, dying to silence. After a time, something howled back. It wasn't Wolf.
Juksakai ran to him, his pale eyes bulging with fear. "What was that?"
"I don't know," said Torak. He scanned the darkening campsite. "Juksakai," he said sharply. "Where's Renn?"
140
TWENTY-TWO
What was that? thought Renn. Not
Torak grasped the significance of the steam bath: a ritual purification. He gave a wry smile. "So I'm a sacrifice."
Juksakai did not reply.
Renn looked stricken.
The dogs were restless in the night, and Torak slept badly. Renn, too, appeared tired; and she wouldn't meet his eyes. Torak felt the tension between them. He'd known for a while that she was keeping something from him. He wondered when she would have the courage to tell him.
137
Another overcast day, and the Mountains stayed hidden. The Swans led them through a snowy pass that followed a rushing river upstream. The ground rose so steeply that Torak and Renn had to use their hands to climb. Breathless, they lagged behind.
The Swans pitched camp by the river, at the mouth of a deep ravine. Two shelters were swiftly built by stretching hides over existing walls of stone and peat: the remains of Mages' shelters, said Juksakai.
Renn slumped on a rock and put her head on her knees.
Torak took deep breaths, but still felt breathless. "What's wrong with us?" he panted.
"We're getting near the sky," said Juksakai. "Less air. Spirits don't need to breathe." Nervously, he fingered his wristband. "This is as far as we go. Tomorrow you're on your own."
Renn sat up. "You mean ..."
Juksakai nodded. "The Gorge of the Hidden People."
Torak took a few steps toward the ravine. Precipitous cliffs reared above him, overhung by strange, twisted crags like enormous creatures peering down. A rocky trail wound inward, following the river. Cloud seeped from the Gorge, shielding the Mountain from view--but Torak felt its icy breath. He saw the Swans muttering prayers; Renn touching the clan-creature feathers tied around her waist.
138
After a silent nightmeal, Juksakai took a portion of fish, made a reverent bow to the river, and cast the fish in the water. "This is one of the veins of the Mountain," he explained.
Torak asked its name, and Juksakai replied sternly that it was never spoken aloud. "But I think you in the Forest call it the Redwater."
"The Redwater?" Torak was startled.
"You know it?"
"I--yes. It was near the Redwater that my father died."
Leaving Juksakai, he climbed down the bank and stared at the foaming water. This felt like an omen: the past thrusting into the present, like old bones emerging after a thaw.
An eerie twilight bathed the camp. As Torak turned to face the Gorge, the clouds parted--and at last there it was: the Mountain of Ghosts. Distant still, yet it towered above him. Snow streamed from its single, perfect peak which held up the sky. Its white flanks seemed lit from within by its own sacred light.
For three summers, Torak had pursued his quest against the Soul-Eaters over Sea and Ice, Forest and Lake--and it had brought him here. In a flash, he perceived that on those far-off slopes, he would meet his destiny. And for him, nothing lay beyond. On the Mountain, he would die.
139
This was what Renn had been keeping from him. This was the dread which had been growing inside him.
Panic flared. Run. Let someone else fight Eostra. You never asked for this.
But what about Fa?
The thought dropped into his mind like a pebble in a pool. In some way that he couldn't yet fathom, his father's spirit was linked to this: his final quest against the last of the Soul-Eaters. He couldn't turn his back on Fa.
As he stood craning his neck at the Mountain, a great loneliness opened up inside him. He needed Wolf.
Putting his hands to his lips, he howled for his pack-brother.
The echoes wound into the Gorge of the Hidden People: fainter and fainter, dying to silence. After a time, something howled back. It wasn't Wolf.
Juksakai ran to him, his pale eyes bulging with fear. "What was that?"
"I don't know," said Torak. He scanned the darkening campsite. "Juksakai," he said sharply. "Where's Renn?"
140
TWENTY-TWO
What was that? thought Renn. Not
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