In The Grip Of Old Winter Page 23

  “I don’t believe you,” said Peter. “You saw the spae-wife try to burn us to death and you didn’t save us, but took the chance to kidnap Leonor - again.”

  Wulfwyn stepped forward, his knife tip level with Bosa’s chest. “The seal-amulet you took also. To give to the spae-wife, for you are in league with all that is corrupt.” He jabbed the knife closer.

  A knight shouted and spurred his horse forward, but Bosa lifted his arm and waved him back.

  “I did not move of my own will,” said Bosa. “A charm lay upon me that forced my spirit.” He reached to his chest and the opening in the robe around his neck. “This stone gave my thoughts and limbs a will other than my own.” The green stone dangled from its leather strip, but covered now by a small patch of cloth tied with twine. “There is some unknown strength within that gives mastery to another’s demands. I did not know the words I spoke or how I came from one place to another, for a cloud filled my head and another’s voice whispered what must be done.” He rubbed the cloth between his finger and thumb. “Now that it is covered, my will is my own again.”

  Peter frowned. “Why don’t you just take it off and throw it away?”

  Bosa stretched the opening at his neck wider. “It is seared into my flesh.” Where it touched, the leather strip disappeared under the skin, visible as a dark ridge that reached around Bosa’s neck.

  “Eeugh,” said Peter.

  Wulfwyn pointed at the knights with his knife. “You have men and arms. You talk of chance and hope, yet I do not see Leonor.”

  “She is taken,” said Bosa. “I returned at first light to the place where I left her asleep, but another came upon her first.”

  “If the spae-wife controlled you through that green stone,” said Peter, “why didn’t she command you to stop after you took Leonor?”

  Bosa tucked the stone away under his robe. “Her will to burn the old oak fixed upon that trinket which you once wore and the cloud that filled my head, melted. I took courage and, though I felt her thin fingers scratch at my thoughts, I ran far enough to escape her grasp.”

  Peter snorted. “What? When we were hiding in the tree, you said that after the barghest killed Oswald, you ran away and the spae-wife let you go. Did you have the stone around your neck then?”

  Bosa wiped his forehead. “I tell you that I did not know the words I spoke or how I came from one place to another.” He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again. “I fell upon the ground at the end of the tunnel and when I awoke the old oak burned and Leonor lay by my side. I had no weapon. I fled and my will to save Leonor gave my fear intent.”

  Peter thought Bosa’s explanation might be the truth. The spae-wife didn’t see through the green stone now that it was covered and so the Eorl’s mind might be free of her.

  Wulfwyn glanced up the bank. “Enough.” He faced Bosa. “I do not trust your words. Your purpose and your will serves none save yourself.” He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Come.”

  Bosa’s eyes glittered. “I am Eorl. Knights follow where I lead. Will you forsake their strength in arms?”

  “The spae-wife threw down many knights at your manor,” said Wulfwyn. “They have no strength to compare or to overthrow.”

  “A messenger rides even now to bring forth more men.” Bosa stroked his horse’s neck. “No enemy withstands the blow of a mighty wave.”

  “A mighty wave will fall spent on any shore,” said Wulfwyn. “The subtle trick, the stealth that takes the hunted by surprise, these are the ways to be considered.”

  Bosa stood straighter. The arrogance Peter remembered when he rode to Oswald’s to woo Leonor, returned.

  “Leonor’s captivity will not be broken by words,” said Bosa. “I thought our common cause might aid each other and so waylay distrust, but now I see that common cause follows different paths.” He walked his horse around. “We both strive to succeed, so each to his path and to the glory that rewards valour in ways that are as yet shrouded and unknown.”

  Wulfwyn turned his back on the Eorl. “Pretty words,” and he crossed the common way and climbed the opposite bank. Peter followed and so did Godwine.

  ***

  Peter puffed as the bank steepened. “If Bosa rescues Leonor first, he’ll marry her.”

  Wulfwyn’s long stride increased. “This is so.”

  On the bush that Peter grasped to help his climb, a branch snapped and he toppled backwards into Godwine. Wulfwyn reached back, took Peter’s arm and hauled him upright.

  Peter panted to catch his breath. “But how are you going to defeat the spae-wife without... without the seal-amulet and just the two of us to help?”

  Wulfwyn scrambled to the top of the bank. “I do not know the means.” He grasped Peter’s and Godwine’s hands to pull them level. “There is much that will decide Leonor’s fate. For good or ill, I will strive to take her hand. If the charm that wraps her in sleep can be broken and at first sight she spies the Eorl and Wulfwyn together, her choice will be true.”

  “You,” said Peter.

  Wulfwyn nodded. “If the Eorl snatches her and then she awakes, force will be his way to secure their union.” He glanced through the trees towards the manor. “Hope is not yet lost,” and then he faced Peter. “You spoke of some ‘place?’”

  Peter looked down at the common way. Eorl Bosa remounted and rode back to join his men. The knights watched them with grim faces.

  “Yes.” Peter pushed his way through the bushes as he led Wulfwyn and Godwine deeper into the trees. Glimpses of the manor’s roof and the tower appeared between the trunks. “Bosa must have moved his men out of the manor before the spae-wife arrived.” No one moved on the tower. “I can’t see anyone.” No smoke rose from the dwellings. “He must have told that patrol who rescued him to get them out.”

  “They hide and wait for Bosa’s word,” said Wulfwyn.

  “Somewhere in the trees?”

  Wulfwyn leapt over a large root. “They watch and wait.”

  Peter stopped and pointed. “There.” Wulfwyn and Godwine drew their weapons.

  “The charred branch,” said Peter. “I’ve found it.” His heart jumped and relief throbbed like a tense muscle that relaxes. The sight of it gave him so much hope. He didn’t need to be a burden, now he had the chance to help and even better, now he had the chance to return home. “I need to go to Bear first,” and he ran through the trees. “He’ll know what to do, because he fought the spae-wife before.”

  Wulfwyn and Godwine ran to catch up and Wulfwyn frowned as he stared at the blackened branch and then at Peter. “This is the aid of which you speak?”

  Peter nodded. “If you put your hands on my shoulders, I’ll touch the branch and then we’ll go... we’ll go somewhere different.”

  Godwine shrugged and placed his hand on Peter’s right shoulder.

  Wulfwyn shook his head as if he had no choice but to agree to such a mad request. “There is so much, even from our first meeting, that is strange that I no longer wonder. If there is hope, then let it show.” He placed his hand on Peter’s left shoulder.

  “It feels a bit weird,” said Peter. “Like you want to be sick, but it doesn’t last long.” He faced the branch, gripped hold of it, shut his eyes and said, “Bear.”

  Nothing happened.

  Peter opened his eyes. “Bear.” No distant wind blew. The tree and all the trees around stayed the same shape and size.

  He shouted louder. “BEAR.” The grey sky didn’t flash from night to day and no stars streaked past overhead.

  Fear filled Peter’s chest and tears welled and blurred his sight. He gripped the branch tighter. “BEAR.” If the charred branch didn’t work, he’d never be able to return home. Without the skin-walkers help, he’d die with Wulfwyn and Godwine. He dropped his staff and took hold of the branch with both hands. “BEAR.” It worked before the carrier gave him the seal-amulet, so what had changed?

  Wulfwyn and Godwine released their grip and Peter heard the soft sigh as Godwi
ne drew his sword. The spae-wife? Had she seen them through the trees and now bore down on them with the barghest and the carrier, ready to give chase and tear them apart?

  Peter slumped, his arms and legs weak as water, helpless in mind and body now that he faced the inevitable. He’d never see anyone he knew ever again. He’d be lost forever, dead in a time long before his own.

  Did the spae-wife disable the branch, use the seal-amulet to destroy it? Perhaps she guessed that Peter might call the skin-walkers and worked fast to stop that happening.

  Wulfwyn gripped Peter’s shoulder again. Peter vowed to fight as hard as the outlaws. He bent, picked up his staff and faced the manor. “I can’t make it work...”

  The trees, the manor, the tower, blurred and faded, shifted as if he gazed at them through glasses with too-thick lenses. Or, did the ground shift so that everything that grew or stood, tilt and sway?

  Peter staggered, dizzy, unsettled and sick. Wulfwyn gripped his shoulder tighter and shifted from side to side to keep his balance. Godwine’s hand rested upon a tree that faded to nothing and then re-appeared. He almost toppled over and lurched backwards to stay upright. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head.

  Peter gasped. “What’s happening?”

  Wulfwyn said, “The spae-wife?”

  Peter drove his staff into the ground to give him extra support. The grey sky darkened, fast as a switch that flicks off a light, into black night. Stars glittered with sudden brightness and where the manor once stood, there now burned a huge bonfire.

  Silhouetted against the flames stood the skin-walkers, their arms outstretched and their robes ruffled by the fire’s heat. They gazed upwards and the harmony of their song rose and fell from one perfect pitch to another and, as if they heard, the stars twinkled with their clear white light.

  Peter started forward to call, when the sky lightened and heavy grey clouds swept the night away. Snow fell, sudden and swift and many of the trees faded from sight and disappeared.

  The old stone house where granddad and grandma lived emerged as if from a mist and a golden light glowed from the kitchen window. Peter cried out and tried to run, but Wulfwyn held him back.

  “That’s the house in my time.” As Peter watched, granddad appeared from around the side and peered up at the sky. “Granddad.” He didn’t hear, for he never glanced to where Peter called. “Granddad.”

  “He does not know,” said Wulfwyn. “Is he the help you seek?”

  “No. That was the skin-walkers. When they stood around the fire, but granddad might...” He took a breath to call again when the house shimmered, like a mirage in the desert in a film he’d seen once, and granddad shimmered too until they both vanished. The manor and the tower appeared at the same time as a faint outline of the skin-walkers fire. The sky faded from grey to black to grey again.

  Peter’s eyes hurt as he tried to concentrate on one part of the past or the present, but it made him too dizzy and he squinted so that everything stayed out of focus and that helped to stop his head from spinning. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what to do.”

  Granddad’s house took the place of the manor, though the skin-walkers fire still glinted as if it burned through and over the house, but the flames never scorched the stones.

  Wulfwyn gasped and pointed. “Look, Leonor stands with a candle. She sees me, for she waves the flame to show that I must come.”

  Leonor’s pale face gazed out from the topmost window underneath the battlements. Her eyes sparkled in the flame’s cold light.

  Peter shouted. “No. That is Leonor’s ghost. She isn’t real. It’s a different time. You cannot go to her there.” He didn’t understand why he spoke these words, yet he thought he guessed their truth. Leonor still lived in Wulfwyn’s time and if they managed to save her, then her ghost need never appear in granddad’s house. Wulfwyn too, once reunited with Leonor, need never be a ghost, either. But if they didn’t save Leonor... well, he didn’t know.

  The house faded and the grey sky went black and the fire burned and the skin-walkers sang their song.

  Wulfwyn whispered. “She is a shade? How? She is gone. What manner of folk are these?”

  The skin-walkers’ song, though not loud, throbbed against Peter’s ears. The earth, the trees, the night, even the stars might be alive with the song’s perfect harmony. A low note rumbled deep beneath the song’s higher pitches and as Peter watched, one by one, the skin-walkers lowered their arms and each voice slid into silence. The deep note still sounded after all the others had faded and then it too softened and departed.

  One of the skin-walkers turned from the fire and faced them.

  “Hurry, come close,” said Bear.

  ***

  Peter ran through the trees and flung his arms around Bear’s legs in a big hug.

  Bear laid his hand upon Peter’s head. “You return. Welcome.”

  Peter stepped back. “I’ve lost the seal-amulet. The spae-wife tricked Eorl Bosa to steal it from me and now she’s got it again and we can’t rescue Leonor.”

  Bear raised his hand in greeting towards Wulfwyn and Godwine. “Welcome, travellers. This must be strange to you.” He indicated the glade with a sweep of his arm. “Now is not the time to explain, but do not be afraid. Peter came to us before and since his visit our arts have revealed much of what has happened.”

  Peter ran back to Wulfwyn. “This is the help I meant. They’ve fought the spae-wife already. They’re skin-walkers.”

  Wulfwyn gave a slow nod. “I have heard of such a one, in old tales that tell of lands new-born and those that lived upon them.” Uncertainty, fear even, gave his words a hesitant tone.

  “They want to help, I promise,” said Peter.

  Bear opened his arms wide. “The earth, the sky even the distant stars, are loosened from their steady progress and slip, unclear of where their true paths lie. Together with my kindred we hold this time still to bring you here.”

  Peter stepped forward. “Is it the spae-wife? Is she making all this happen with the seal-amulet?”

  “She uses that talisman for her own purposes,” said Bear. “The spells intrude upon all our lives in ways she does not know or cares not to see. She thinks to hold the old time, the present and what is to come in her thrall and bind them to her will.”

  Peter asked, “What is to come? Do you mean beyond my time too?”

  “And our time,” said Bear. “She escaped when last we came to purge the land of her taint, but she tore the soul from one of ours before she departed and so we diminished. We bound the land in tight enchantments and thought to hold her captive until the end of all Times.” Bear laid his hand upon Peter’s shoulder. “Though we did not know where she hid.”

  Peter swallowed, for a thought so obvious became clear. “Do you mean that she hid in my time?”

  “Indeed,” said Bear. “Upon this land, though different stars shone from a new sky.” He raised his hand towards Wulfwyn and Godwine. “We must return to that Age where she thrives, for it is there she works her will to greatest intent.”

  Peter said, “What’s she going to do to Leonor?”

  Bear’s hooded face gazed back at the fire. “Take the girl’s body for her own, so that reborn the spae-wife will be beautiful and terrible.” He strode towards the fire. “Come, we must go together.”

  Peter hurried after Bear. “Will that make Leonor a ghost again - if we don’t rescue her first?”

  “No,” said Bear. “For the spae-wife does not die. She inhabits her host and feeds upon their flesh and uses their will as her own. The host cannot escape and though they wish it, they cannot die. Their torment is terrible and only when the last thread of flesh is consumed and the last thought corrupted will the spae-wife abandon the host, which crumbles to dust, a withered husk.”

  “That’s disgusting,” said Peter. “But why didn’t...”

  Bear laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Too many questions. Our actions must be swift before this time is lost.�
�

  Wulfwyn and Godwine joined the circle with Peter and the skin-walkers.

  Bear raised his arms and his robe glinted purple in the firelight. He sang a high clear note and one by one the skin-walkers raised their arms and added their voices, until they all sang together. The stars flashed and went out, the sky lightened to grey and the trees thinned to leave a wider space where the manor and the tower emerged as if conjured out of the air.

  The song ceased. The fire burned, the flames writhed, though in silence, as if denied their fury.

  Bear lowered his arms. “The spae-wife is within.” He walked towards the manor. “Approach with care for she will be prepared.”

  Wulfwyn and Godwine drew their weapons and Peter gripped his staff with both hands. The cold air thumped upon his head as if it crackled with some unseen energy. He pulled up his anorak hood to ward off the heavy sense of dread that tried to beat him down.

  Bear pulled aside the fur that hung across the doorway. The shadows deepened into darkness beyond the threshold. He stepped inside and Peter followed the skin-walkers into the manor. Wulfwyn and Godwine stayed at his back.

  No candles burned or firelight flickered. They stood, silent and still, in the dark. The long hall ran the length of the manor and at the other end, just before the kitchen, a shorter passage led to the large room where he’d listened to Oswald, Leonor and Bosa make their plans.

  The skin-walkers moved forward and Peter followed the soft rustle of their robes. He blinked hard to make his eyes adjust to the dark.

  A blast of light, cold, bright and blue, sparked like sudden lightning across the rafters and down the walls and the shadows darted in every direction. Peter winced and recoiled as if he’d been hit and strange lights, blue and white, repeated over and over in his eyes so that he saw less than before.

  “Wait,” said Bear. “She is close.”

  Peter rubbed his eyes. “I think she might be in the big room next to the kitchen.”

  The light burst over them again, even brighter and a shaft slammed into the ground close to Bear’s feet and the earth shook as it went out. A growl, like thunder, rumbled with threat as it approached through the dark.