In The Grip Of Old Winter Read online

  Wulfwyn sprinted from the fire across to Peter. He hooked a hand under Peter’s arm and hoisted him onto his feet.

  “We have to get Wolf to Bear,” said Peter. “And then he’ll wake up.”

  The barghest crept closer and snarled. His eyes darted from Wolf to Peter to Wulfwyn as if uncertain which one posed the greater threat.

  A blur of orange darted out from between the trees and snapped at the barghest’s rump.

  The barghest yelped at the unexpected attack and spun round. Fox slunk behind the fire and out of sight. The barghest gave chase and then skidded to a halt, spun round and focused on Wulfwyn, loped towards him and then charged.

  Wulfwyn pushed Peter back. “Stay behind me.”

  “I can fight,” said Peter. He held the staff in both hands, like a sword, with the sharp end pointed at the barghest and ready to thrust. Another movement, under the tower and his staff wavered as he peered harder.

  Snake slithered out of the shadows. Its forked tongue flicked, the black unblinking eyes in its diamond-patterned head fixed on the barghest. The long body coiled, undulated, slithered over the ground, almost too fast for Peter to follow.

  The barghest leapt, jaws wide and ready to bite as he came down on Wulfwyn.

  Snake writhed into the air and looped a coil around the dog’s neck. They both hit the ground with a thump that made it shake. The barghest’s legs gave way under Snake’s weight. Snake looped another coil around the chest, then the belly, then the hindquarters and Peter saw the muscles contract as Snake’s long thick body squeezed.

  The barghest’s legs scrabbled against the ground. The head arched back to snap at Snake, the eyes wide with fear and fury. The dog whimpered and its tongue lolled from its jaws as Snake forced the air from the barghest’s lungs.

  ***

  Wulfwyn’s stance kept him braced and ready to fight as if uncertain of Snake’s next move. Fox appeared from around the other side of the fire and trotted towards the manor. Snake uncoiled his loops from around the barghest and followed Fox.

  “Quick,” said Peter. “We have to get Wolf into the manor. All the skin-walkers together can defeat the spae-wife and we can rescue Leonor.”

  Wulfwyn sheathed his knife and muttered. “I have never seen the like.” He gazed at the sideboard and the stepladder, the colourful plates in the snow, shook his head and then knelt and heaved Wolf up and over one shoulder. “I have the weight. Pull the head around my neck.”

  Peter dropped his staff and pushed and pulled Wolf’s head until it circled Wulfwyn’s neck and he grabbed it and let the head flop over his other shoulder.

  Wulfwyn took a deep breath, tensed his legs and stood. He staggered until he found his balance. “Very well.”

  Peter picked up his staff and ran ahead to pull back the fur from the doorway. His hand brushed against cold metal just inside the door frame. A hook, he thought, from the way it curved upwards and he draped the fur over so that some light shone into the long hallway.

  He ran ahead until he reached the passage into the big room. No sign of the other skin-walkers. Wulfwyn’s boots stomped on the hard-packed earth as he followed as fast as Wolf’s weight allowed.

  Light pulsed at the far end of the passage. White, green, red, the palette swirled as if unable to settle on just one.

  “Move with care,” said Wulfwyn. “I wonder at this silence.”

  Peter crept down the passage. The circle of branches came into view first and the white and green light that shone from them. Then Leonor, as if asleep, staked to the ground. The legs of the high stool, the long branches lashed together with twine and upon its top, bent and crouched, the spae-wife.

  Her head lolled upon her shoulder and the jaw hung loose and slack. Her arms and legs twisted at strange angles and the fingers, curled into talons, twitched. The seal-amulet shone crimson and the silver marks revolved, though not one burned bright.

  Peter’s heart jumped. Bear and Godwine’s attack must have been ferocious. They’d wounded her, countered the seal-amulet’s spells. Leonor must be safe now.

  The red light flared and not from the seal-amulet, as Peter thought. Opposite the spae-wife, a wall of translucent flame shimmered as it reached from one end of the room to the other. Behind it, in a line, stood the skin-walkers, robed and with their arms raised. Gashes revealed flaps of loose material as if they’d fought the barghest in their human form.

  Bear’s voice called. “Come through.”

  The flames closest to Peter separated, just wide and high enough to form an arch. He ran and Wulfwyn followed close behind.

  The spae-wife shrieked and thick tree roots erupted at their feet. They whipped at Peter’s ankles, tripped him, twisted to grip his shins and bring him down.

  Wulfwyn cried out and the ground shook as he stamped his feet to stay free.

  Bear yelled. “Run.”

  Fingers of flame uncurled from the wall of fire and snapped like whips at the roots, which ignited, shrank and then withered away in plumes of black smoke.

  Peter choked and his eyes smarted as he staggered through the fire-arch. Wulfwyn half-ran, half-fell after him and collapsed onto his knees, his back bent from Wolf’s weight. Flames leapt across the gap and sealed the arch.

  Bear lowered his arms. “You have done well, Peter.” He stepped out from the line, knelt beside Wolf and stroked his fur. “My dear friend. So many seasons have passed since last we stood together. You were lost and now you are found.” He laid his hand upon Wolf’s head and sang a long deep note. One by one the skin-walkers added their song to Bear’s, until the room vibrated with their harmony.

  Wolf’s stomach expanded in a sudden gasp of indrawn breath. Three times, in and out, each breath longer and deeper than the one before. His fur bristled and his eyelids twitched and his throat rasped with the effort of each new breath. Then his breathing relaxed into a gentle rhythm until, as if he slept, he breathed with sound contentment.

  Bear stood. “He will wake soon.” He placed his hand upon Wulfwyn’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend.”

  Wulfwyn wiped sweat from his brow. “Where is Godwine?”

  “He is hurt.” Bear pointed to the darkest corner of the room.

  Godwine sat propped against the wall, his chin slumped onto his chest and his left leg twisted at an odd angle. Dark stains covered his leather jerkin. Wulfwyn ran to him and knelt.

  Bear said, “I have given him sleep so that his pain is eased. We need time to treat his wounds with greater care.”

  Peter’s mouth went dry. Did that mean Godwine might die? His heart pounded and his hatred for the spae-wife and the seal-amulet erupted. “It isn’t fair. We’ve got to stop her. Did Godwine hit her, is that why she looks so broken?”

  “No. He is brave and that makes his actions glorious, but the spae-wife is unhurt. She is casting off her host.” Bear stepped up to the wall of fire. “Her charms are placed and the time draws near for her to claim a new victim. The girl is young and strong and her spirit will serve the spae-wife well for many seasons to come.”

  Peter gripped his staff tight. Anger and now fear for Leonor’s safety made his stomach tingle. “But what are we going to do to stop her?”

  “We are held by her charms and our shield. We are protected from her attack behind the fire, but we cannot pass the barrier raised from the branches.” Bear paced. “It is an impasse that keeps us safe, but gives the spae-wife time to prepare.”

  Peter banged the staff on the floor. “We’ve got to do something.”

  Bear faced him. “You are right.” He knelt until his hooded head came level with Peter’s. “My kindred and I have studied much since you first appeared in our glade.” He raised his hand as if he meant to touch Peter’s face. “An aura surrounds your form. You are a boy, though not one who is birthed from the joining of man and woman.”

  Peter twisted the staff in his hands. “What?”

  Bear knelt back on his haunches. “You have used the seal-amulet already and can d
o so again.”

  “No I can’t.” Peter pointed. “She’s got it. She can use it even when I’m wearing it, but I can never make it work when I want it to.”

  “Watch and be ready. There will... Ah!”

  Wolf awoke and gave a ferocious sneeze. His yellow eyes glinted in the firelight. Bear stood and folded his arms around Wolf’s neck in a close embrace. When he drew back, he held a new robe in his hands. Wolf sat up and sniffed it and the robe fell around his body and he rose and stood as tall as the other skin-walkers.

  “Together and complete,” said Bear. “Welcome back to your kith and kin, my friend.”

  Wolf crossed his hands against his chest, faced Peter and bowed.

  Peter said, “That’s - that’s all right.”

  The wall of fire flared as if disturbed by some sudden shock. Through the flames, Peter saw the spae-wife, bent almost double, teeter on her stool as if she might tumble and fall.

  “Be quick,” said Bear. “Her ritual is almost finished.”

  Wolf joined the line of skin-walkers and raised his arms and the wall of fire burned a deeper orange.

  Bear placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “The body will fall when the spae-wife leaves her host and so will the seal-amulet. The charm that raised her barrier will fail. The spae-wife is at her most vulnerable when she passes out of one host and takes the form of another. Retrieve the seal-amulet before she enters her new host and use it to save Leonor.”

  Peter’s stomach churned as fear made him sick. “But I can’t make the seal-amulet work. It does sometimes, but not every time and when I want it to, nothing happens.”

  Bear’s voice deepened, like one of Peter’s school masters when he wanted something understood. “The seal-amulet’s charms can be used in many different ways. You have used them already and you will use them again, though how may not be clear. We will help.”

  A deep hum, like hundreds of wasps hovering, made the air tingle. The circle of branches trembled.

  Leonor’s head rolled as if pushed by some unseen hand from its side, where her cheek pressed upon the floor, onto its back, so that she faced the rafters.

  The spae-wife jolted and her bones rattled. As if on command, Leonor’s eyes snapped open. Her jaw dropped and, with her lips stretched wide apart, she opened her mouth.

  ***

  “Be ready,” said Bear. He raised his arms as he joined the other skin-walkers. “The spae-wife enters the host’s mouth, digs into the soft skin at the back of the throat and then burrows into the head.”

  The seal-amulet dangled from the spae-wife’s neck as if it might slip over her head and drop at any moment. She stood with one foot on the high stool while the other swung unsupported in mid-air. Her arms flopped at her sides, though her fingers still twitched.

  Peter stood like a runner before a race, one leg back, his weight upon it, ready to sprint, his eyes fixed upon the seal-amulet. Did the spae-wife move fast or slow? How did she move? The actual spae-wife must be tiny, for Leonor’s mouth didn’t open that wide.

  The host jerked. Her arms rose and fell as if she performed some wild dance and her head rolled across her shoulders, so that the seal-amulet slipped around her body and hung down her back.

  The white light that pulsed from the circle of branches faltered and went out. The skin-walkers lowered their arms and the wall of flame rose into an arch that spanned the room from one side to the other and left the floor clear.

  Bear’s deep voice called. “Wait.”

  Peter tensed.

  The spae-wife shrieked and the cry pierced louder than the harsh buzz that vibrated in the air. The host’s arms stayed up and still, the fingers curved, her head thrown back. The buzz ceased and the sudden silence made Peter hold his breath.

  She rose out of the host’s mouth and hovered. Black as water, when it is shadowed from the moon, she glistened in the fire’s light. Her wings, twice the size of her body; their thin membranes crossed by many veins, flapped in fast rotation. A wasp’s head with two eyes, a nose and a mouth, just like a tiny human face, scowled in hatred and fury. The whites of her eyes blazed and the lips drew back to show teeth pointed like fangs.

  Peter swallowed. For if he thought the face human, the segmented body resembled an insect’s. Four legs, jointed twice, grew from the chest and four from the abdomen, each one tipped by a large claw. The curved abdomen ended in a hooked sting.

  The spae-wife shrieked again, a thin high sound that might be the distant call of some wild bird. The skeletal body of her old host collapsed, tumbled from the stool and crashed to the floor. The bones broke apart and bounced in different directions. The skull rolled over the circle of branches and the jaw snapped free.

  The seal-amulet landed at the base of the stool and rolled to within a few inches of Leonor’s right foot.

  Bear yelled. “Now.”

  Peter shot forward, the staff held horizontal in front of his chest. He leapt over the circle of branches and darted towards the seal-amulet.

  The spae-wife hissed and dived straight at his head. Peter raised the staff, but she swerved past his defence and arched her abdomen to sting his hand. Peter swivelled on the spot and the sting slipped off the staff’s hard wood. He dropped onto all fours, swung the staff over his head with one hand and with the other, groped for the seal-amulet.

  The spae-wife rose to miss his clumsy attack. She drew her legs up, bunched them close to her body, the claws faced outwards to scratch and tear. The sting glistened where a drop of poison hung suspended from its tip.

  Peter didn’t dare let her out of his sight as his hand scrabbled over the floor. The seal-amulet must be close.

  The spae-wife came at him again, hovered just out of reach as the staff swung past her in a wild arc and then she dropped onto his shoulder, her legs extended, the claws ripping through the first layer of his anorak to find a hold.

  Peter screamed and rolled onto the floor to tear her loose. A sharp pain, like needles that pierced skin, pricked his ear as the spae-wife bit. He slammed his shoulder into the floor, rolled again, smacked the staff close to where he thought she clung and when he crawled onto all fours, she stood upon the floor, legs spread and arched like a spider’s, the vicious face jerking left, right, up, down as she hunted for a new way to attack.

  She launched upwards into flight and rose high above Peter’s head, where she hovered, her legs folded close to her body.

  Peter reared up onto his knees, took hold of the end of the staff with both hands, ready to swing its full length with greater force.

  She dropped out of the air straight at him, but as he swung the staff, she changed direction, swerved and landed on Leonor’s face.

  Bear yelled. “The seal-amulet, Peter.”

  It lay on the floor, a body’s length from where he knelt, but unbalanced from the force of his swing, he twisted and dropped onto his side.

  Another, louder yell, full of rage and Wulfwyn leapt towards Leonor, knelt and skidded. A cloud of dry earth spattered Peter’s face.

  Wulfwyn gripped the spae-wife’s wings between his finger and thumb and pulled her off Leonor’s face. Specks of blood bubbled where the spae-wife’s claws ripped her white skin.

  The spae-wife writhed and coiled and her teeth snapped and then she arched her abdomen back and up and with a sharp jab, buried her sting into Wulfwyn’s hand.

  He let go with a loud yelp and the spae-wife landed on Leonor’s chest, where she closed her wings and scampered with terrible speed straight towards the girl’s open mouth.

  Peter dived for the seal-amulet, gripped its chain with his fingers and dragged it across the floor. He fumbled with the links, desperate to be quick and at last slipped them over his head.

  His vision blurred and everything that moved, slowed. The skin-walkers sang and their notes sounded strong and high and pure.

  It’s like being underwater in the swimming pool at school. Where some sounds stayed clear, but others became muffled and to move through the water
took effort, as every action needed double the strength for half the speed.

  He looked down upon the room as if he floated in the air up by the rafters. Another new sensation that he’d never experienced with the seal-amulet before. The skin-walkers’ song with its pitch perfect notes swirled their perfect harmonies to hold him up, like strong arms that gave support.

  The spae-wife’s arched legs pumped up and down as she approached Leonor’s mouth. Each rise and fall clear, distinct and slow. Wulfwyn fell, every speck of dirt, or strand of loose hair visible in their trajectory, as some moved faster and others slower than the outlaw.

  The seal-amulet glowed bright red and the silver marks revolved in opposite directions. Peter didn’t panic. He needed to stop the spae-wife. Secure that the right mark must appear and in time, he shut his eyes.

  The memory of his dream when he slept by the skin-walkers fire flashed in broken pictures before his mind’s eye, of starlight and planets and dust trails left by comets. One picture, of a giant gas cloud of many colours, folded and revolved until it revealed two white mountain peaks, one high, one low with their mirror image repeated underneath and upside down. The skin-walkers’ song never ceased and a thousand stars glittered as if they sang, too.

  Peter opened his eyes. The spae-wife’s front legs probed Leonor’s mouth and her head lowered as she prepared to squeeze inside. Wulfwyn still fell, his position almost unchanged from the last time Peter looked.

  The picture in his head appeared as a silver mark in the seal-amulet’s centre. The skin-walkers’ song changed to a higher pitch and Peter revolved his right wrist and snapped his fingers. He knew this to be the correct action for the mark, though he didn’t know why.

  Ice formed in sheets of crystal over Leonor’s body. A thin layer first, transparent, just frozen, with water bubbles that shifted up and down as Leonor breathed. Then thicker, the transparency lost, a milk-white sheen laced with deeper harder blues.

  The spae-wife stung the ice with ferocious jabs. Her claws beat upon its hard surface. As the ice thickened and expanded, it forced her off Leonor’s mouth. She flapped hard to keep from slipping and then, with a jump, took flight.