In The Grip Of Old Winter Read online

  Peter wrenched the abdomen from side to side. The spae-wife’s claws tore the skin inside his mouth and at the back of his tongue and the pain shrieked through every nerve in his head, but that forced him to fight harder, for the pain gave him strength. He gripped her abdomen tighter, flung his head and shoulders back and with a sharp yank, jerked his arms forward.

  The spae-wife slid out of his mouth in a flurry of blood and froth. Her legs clawed at his face and her teeth, smeared with his blood, snapped, as her head strained and twisted to bite. She beat her wings hard against his hands.

  Peter’s breath bubbled as he gasped for air and blood trickled up and down his throat. The taste of hot copper, like a two pence piece when he pressed his tongue against it, made him sick. He spat and shook his head to clear the tears from his eyes. The spae-wife wriggled in a frantic effort to escape his grip.

  The flames crackled. Peter saw, in The Hall, the skin-walkers fire and then the skin-walkers, too. They appeared, one after the other, in a line that led from the fire, out of The Hall and into the passage. His heart throbbed with relief and hope.

  They carried a rope of flame that stretched from the bonfire to the nearest skin-walker. At the end of the rope, strands of flame unravelled which snapped and writhed as if they hunted for prey to grasp and hold.

  “Keep a tight grip on her, Peter.” Bear’s voice commanded above the noise of the flames. “Almost there.”

  Peter spat out more blood. “It hurts.”

  “You have done well,” said Bear. “Do not let her go.” He came closer. “You brought Wolf back to us and now that we are complete, we can endure with all our strength.”

  The spae-wife curled her legs and jabbed her claws into the back of Peter’s hands.

  “NO!” His pain, mixed with fury, made him squeeze her tighter and she shrieked and drove her claws deeper. They cut as sharp as scalpels and the pain exploded into agony. He shook her and the drop of poison flew from her sting and evaporated with a hiss in the flames.

  Bear stood just a few paces away. “Eagle is the last of us to pass into this Age. Care must be taken that the journey is not hurried, for we have travelled farther than we have ever known.” He raised the fire-rope and the loose flames at its end cracked and sparks scattered in all directions.

  Tears blurred Peter’s sight and he shut his eyes, but that made the pain worse, for his mind focused on just that and nothing else and so he opened them again and the tears cascaded down his cheeks in a rush.

  Almina and granddad cowered on the floor. Wisps of smoke rose from Almina’s hair and she whimpered. Peter wondered that the fire-tunnel’s heat brushed across his face and hands with no more discomfit than a warm glow. Distracted and tormented by pain, his grip on the spae-wife’s abdomen relaxed.

  With a frantic flap of her wings, she broke free and rose. She passed through the fire-tunnel’s wall and her body smoked, but unscathed, she flew higher.

  Peter snatched at her, but she climbed too fast. “She’s escaped.”

  Bear rushed forwards. “We are complete.” He hurled the end of the fire-rope after her. As if released from a cage, the flames sprang upwards and two of them nipped at her legs and coiled around them, tight as springs.

  The spae-wife screeched and dived past Peter into the kitchen. Bear followed and the fire-rope bucked and looped as he fed it through his hands.

  The fire-tunnel burst apart with a loud snap and a flurry of white and orange sparks. Peter rolled onto his side and held his hand where the blood dripped fast, one crimson drop after another.

  Each skin-walker held a length of fire-rope and as they swept by and followed Bear, they passed it through their hands as if its coils might never end.

  Peter spat out another gob of blood. He pushed over onto his knees and stood. The seal-amulet flashed red and the silver marks shone and revolved. He staggered after Bear, through the kitchen, where he saw a white envelope on the table with grandma’s name written on it, ‘Rose.’ No time to investigate and he ran out of the back door and past the barn.

  Large snowflakes fell and his legs ached as he pushed through the drifts. Two skin-walkers halted, separated from each other by several metres. The others in front followed Bear and then another stopped. Peter spat out more blood. The skin-walkers stretched in a line from their fire in The Hall to Bear.

  Past the barn, the ground dipped and the snow came up to Peter’s knees. Another skin-walker halted. The fire-rope hissed as its length played out. At the tree line, a hummock of snow stood proud of the drifts and in front of it he saw a wide hollow space, cleared of snow.

  Peter stopped to catch his breath. Bear stood in the hollow and the fire-rope writhed across his hands. It passed through a door-shaped opening in the hummock and disappeared down into a dark interior. The ice house.

  “This is where the spae-wife, veiled by charms, sought her refuge,” said Bear. “Hidden from our sight by countless seasons yet to come, she slipped our bonds and waited for the coldest, harshest winter to reawaken.” The fire-rope tautened and sparks flicked off along its length and where they landed in the snow, trails of white smoke curled upwards.

  Bear said, “She will not escape from our grasp this time. We are complete and she will not endure.” He let go of the fire-rope and so did Rat and Fox and Wolf and though the other skin-walkers stretched back into the house and out of sight, Peter guessed that they did the same. The fire-rope hovered, unsupported, in the air.

  “Come closer, Peter.”

  He shoved against the snow until it broke apart in large chunks and he pushed through to stand beside Bear. He glanced back and saw that the skin-walkers didn’t wait in the snow, but upon its surface and that where they stood, they left no mark.

  Bear rested his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “The seal-amulet burns, the silver marks revealed. Cold awakens it, snow and ice and frost. The spae-wife twisted the charms to be unleashed when deep winter bites.”

  “But she didn’t have it,” said Peter. “The carrier gave it to me.”

  The fire-rope, close to, revealed thin fingers of interlaced flame which coiled as if powered by the bonfire which drove them forwards. They weaved in perfect synchronicity, hundreds of them, one over and under and around another.

  “That is so,” said Bear. “I believe that chance gave the carrier the courage to take it from her. She cowered, weakened by the fight as she strived against us, and he slipped it from her neck. Tormented, he craved release. For the carrier serves no one.”

  “Like he gave it to Almina all those years ago,” Peter said. “That must have been a cold winter too. Is the barghest under the seal-amulet’s power as well?”

  “No. The barghest is a night phantom, brought forth into light from myth and mist. She imbued it with flesh and blood and teeth, but to darkness it returns and to fancy.” Bear’s hand lifted from Peter’s shoulder. “It is time to release the seal-amulet from her corrupt will.”

  The skin-walkers sang their long note and the harmonies intertwined and their song hummed with a melody that might never end.

  Bear said, “What you will see is as it is. The seal-amulet is yours. Remember, every charm you use must be released with an understanding of the responsibility of what you do. It is time to use it as you wish. It is time to be wise. Are you ready?”

  Peter nodded.

  ***

  Bear sang and his note rang out loud and clear.

  Peter swallowed, for he floated high above the barn and when he glanced behind him and down, even higher than the battlements on the house. The skin-walkers stood, one an equal distance from the other and the fire-rope glowed like an orange stream.

  A silver mark, shaped like an eye, shone in the centre of the seal-amulet and the snow and the frost and the roof of the ice house turned to mist and evaporated, so that he was able to see inside.

  The spae-wife coiled and strained as she fought against the fiery strands that gripped each leg and wing.

  Another mark emerged b
eside the first and this one showed a solid circle inside a circle of dots. Peter closed his hand into a fist and squeezed. The fire-rope tautened and he heard, far away, the spae-wife shriek, as the fire-strands separated with a sharp flick that tore her body apart.

  The skin-walkers’ melody changed and the notes they sang deepened.

  Peter saw into the old house and into The Hall, as if the stones dissolved wherever his eyes chose to gaze.

  Granddad and Almina stood together, far away from the nearest skin-walker, and supported each other with an arm squeezed tight across the others’ shoulders. Granddad gripped the staff and Almina closed her palm around his fingers. Granddad touched the staff to the floor, his lips moved and they both vanished. A mark of three diagonal lines that shone in the seal-amulet’s centre disappeared as fast as granddad and Almina.

  The air and light shifted as if time no longer stayed at an even pace, but tripped and shuddered. For night replaced day and lights shone from the old house.

  It snowed hard. Granddad scurried out of the kitchen, past the shed and the ice house and through the trees to a small clearing where a telegraph pole stood, its two wires slung low with crusted snow. He carried a long pruning tool; dad had one to remove a tree’s high branches when they grew too long and covered the garden in shade.

  Granddad cut one wire, the one that stretched into the trees and away out of sight.

  Peter’s vision blurred and then settled. Inside the house, they all sat in The Hall after dinner. Except granddad, who took a pair of scissors from a kitchen drawer and snipped the telephone cable. Then he taped the end of the cable onto the back of the telephone.

  Another mark shone, three ‘eee’s’ looped together. Granddad walked through to The Hall and sat next to Peter. That moment shimmered, faded, slipped away and so did the silver mark.

  Peter just watched.

  Darkness brightened to a grey light. It still snowed. Dad stood at the foot of a long ladder placed against the barn doors. He held a shovel under one arm. With slow care, he climbed up until he reached the edge of the roof. He thrust the shovel into the great wedge of snow and pushed.

  The barn door opened just far enough to allow Almina to step outside. She carried a rake and with a sharp jab, struck the ladder. The shock unbalanced dad and he dropped the shovel and whirled his arms to keep his balance, but his foot slipped and he fell. He landed in a mound of snow beside the barn door and screamed. A gush of blood turned the snow red. Almina stepped back into the barn and shut the door.

  A mark of six vertical lines dissolved as the scene changed again. The snow and the barn roof parted and Peter saw dad’s car parked inside. Granddad and Almina moved fast as they filled the boot with cases and boxes. Then granddad pulled a sealed envelope out of his pocket and they returned to the kitchen where he laid the envelope on the table.

  Peter didn’t see that mark, for day snapped to night and the skin-walkers’ song might be the one sound in a universe of silence. Grey light brightened into another day.

  Eorl Oswald’s manor and the tower on its earthen bank emerged from out of the light. Eorl Bosa rode up to the manor accompanied by his knights. They all dismounted and Bosa’s men drew their swords and fanned out to secure the manor and its land for their Eorl.

  One man climbed the tower and planted Eorl Bosa’s banner against the highest parapet; a white stag that galloped across a field of green.

  Bosa walked through the manor until he came to the large room and the two blocks of ice which entombed Wulfwyn and Leonor. He chipped the ice with his sword’s tip, sliced them with his sword’s edge, but they didn’t shatter.

  The Eorl flicked aside the bones that lay strewn across the floor. Then he stooped and picked up a torn rag that once clothed the spae-wife’s host. His face paled and his hand trembled. He glanced round, fearful of surprise, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  In the seal-amulet’s centre, a silver mark showed two hands, palms out, fingers spread. The skin-walkers’ song hummed low and deep.

  Peter’s chest tightened, not with fear, but with sorrow, for though some deep instinct hinted at the form and sequence that would shape his hands to ignite the charm and release Wulfwyn and Leonor from the ice, he did nothing.

  He just watched.

  Frozen in ice or released into Bosa’s servitude? Leonor’s union with Bosa? Why subject her to such an unhappy life when she might sleep for ever, without fear, close beside Wulfwyn? Two lovers together. A mark of respect to Eorl Oswald too, that he’d followed the Eorl’s wishes and stopped his daughter’s union with a man that he did not admire and she did not love.

  Peter wished that he might speak to Wulfwyn once more, even just to say goodbye. To Godwine too, who sat slumped against the wall, still and quiet, unseen yet by Bosa. This Age might now be weaved with new threads, for the memories that came before no longer existed.

  Who knew what happened after death? The strands that wove love and care and shared thoughts might stretch on for ever, for such emotions filled much of man’s universe.

  Peter gazed across the tree tops. The Forest of Andred stretched away into the distance. The trees shimmered and so did the light and the land below changed to one that he did not know.

  Concrete buildings and parked cars and an ambulance with its blue lights flashing. In a small room, bright with light and the sharp reflection of steel furniture, his mum, much younger and less care-worn, lay on a raised stretcher as a doctor stood nearby and spoke.

  “The eggs are implanted. As you know, you have three. We hope that one will come to term, but you never know, all three might develop. How would you feel about giving birth to triplets?”

  Mum managed a smile. “Oh, I’m not sure. I haven’t thought that far ahead.” She chewed her lip. “Doctor, my husband has to believe that the baby is his. It’s so important to our marriage. He won’t ever find out about the sperm donor, will he?”

  The doctor clicked his pen and clipped it into the top pocket of his white coat. “General practice requires that both parents co-operate in all areas of IVF treatment. However, as you are a private patient and taking your mental history into consideration, we will of course respect your wishes. Now, are you feeling comfortable?”

  A strange mark, like a spring shaped as a teardrop, corkscrewed as it faded.

  The room changed shape and the raised stretcher widened until it became a bed. A bed with the covers supported above the mattress. Dad lay still and quiet, his eyes shut. Mum, slumped onto a chair at his side, sobbed.

  Grandma stood behind and cradled her. She wiped her own cheeks with the back of her hand. “He’s alive. That’s all that matters.”

  The curtains around the bed parted and a nurse appeared. She checked the machine connected to dad and then lifted the bed covers. Dad’s right leg ended in a stump just above the knee. Thick white bandages wrapped it tight. She draped the covers over and then crouched and took hold of mum’s hand. “There’s a bed ready for you now. Let’s get you settled.” Mum stood and let the nurse lead her away. Grandma kissed dad’s forehead and followed. Dad, the bright light and the big bed evaporated, like mist, and so did the silver mark with its single star.

  Dad, or not my dad, and if it’s not him, then who? I loved him as my dad.

  Peter shut his eyes and there appeared, as if in a procession, each event that he’d just seen and each corresponding mark that shone from the seal-amulet. He remembered Bear’s words. ‘What you will see is as it is. Every charm you use must be released with an understanding of the responsibility of what you do.’

  If he cast all of the spells from all of the silver marks, then everything changed. Dad didn’t lose his leg, Wulfwyn and Leonor lived. Granddad and Almina didn’t escape. His mother gave birth to a different baby, perhaps two, or even three. His stomach fluttered at such a weird thought. Might he still be one of them? Might he still exist? He guessed that he must, for if he wasn’t born there’d be no point in witnessing anything that had happened to him u
p to this point in his life.

  He might use some of the marks. The ones, as he thought, that made everything better - for him. Like a talisman wielded by a hero in his computer games.

  I can ignore you, but I will help you.

  It made for easy choices, but the right ones, or just different ones? The barghest still killed Oswald; perhaps Leonor was meant to die young. If dad didn’t lose his leg from the fall, he might lose it in a car crash or from an infectious disease. Did some invisible fate determine the course of every life? When he used the seal-amulet, it confused those fates, for it muddied people’s lives by revealing so many new possibilities.

  In the end though, that ultimate fate, whatever it might be, must still endure. Time’s strands weaved a curious pattern as they passed through the Ages, yet a sure one and true.

  Peter opened his eyes and shouted. “I won’t change anything!”

  ***

  He stood beside Bear. The seal-amulet’s bright crimson blush diminished and the silver marks disappeared. A terrible weariness made his legs wobble and he staggered. Tears streamed down his face and his heart thumped as if it might break.

  Bear rested a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. “You have been wise.”

  The skin-walkers, without the fire-rope, stood above them and gazed down.

  “The seal-amulet might alter many events,” said Bear. “So many possibilities, too many, so that even the most considered thought might invoke frantic choices that can expose the mind to chaos. It is not easy for you. It never will be. There is sadness and heartache. There will be many hours of doubt. How can one with so few years know all?” Bear knelt. “The seal-amulet is yours now. It is fashioned in some ancient past that passes beyond my understanding. It thrives on deep cold, though the spae-wife’s will might have made it so, for such an old creation doubtless has other choices and other ways to harness the charms. And those ways are yet to be known and grasped. It might be beyond the scope of a human life to know all or any of its secrets, but a curious and natural instinct informs your will that may cast light in varied and unexpected ways.” He rose. “It is time for us to part.”