Read Online Ghost Hunter by Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor
Tags: General, Historical, Juvenile Fiction, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Horror & Ghost Stories, Prehistory
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Forest. To stop the holes from refreezing in the night, he plugged them with twigs and covered them with snow. Then he planted his knife beside them to deter Rip and Rek, who were quite capable of hauling in the lines with their beaks, and stealing the catch.
Back on shore, he circled the lake. The land felt empty, but his hunter's eye told him it was not. He spotted splayed wing prints where a gray owl had punched into the snow after a lemming. Farther on, a cluster of shallow hollows, each with a tiny pile of frozen droppings, where willow grouse had huddled together for company. And a web of ptarmigan prints, although no sign of their beds; ptarmigans like to fly high, then dive into soft snow to make a snug, invisible burrow.
They also love birch twigs, so Torak broke off some ankle-high branches of dwarf birch, rubbed off the ice, and stuck them in a patch of snow to make a tempting cluster, in which he hid snares of looped twine. He did the same with willow for the grouse.
Farther up the slope, he found a hare trail. Following it to a windy ridge, he set his snare just before the point where the hare would have to leave the safety of the
89
scrub and cross open ground. It would be preoccupied, and so less likely to notice a snare.
By now, Torak was giddy with hunger. All that awaited him at camp was his share of the hazelnuts. The sky was a deep, cold blue, strewn with stars. The moon was not yet up, but he made out the fanged blackness of the Mountains--and above them, faint and far, the red star of winter. The eye of the Great Auroch.
When the red eye is highest, Fa had said as he lay dying, the demons are strongest.
The Eagle Owl Mage and her minions were vivid in Torak's mind; but Fa's face was a blur. With a shock, Torak realized that he'd become a different person since his father had died. Maybe Fa wouldn't even recognize him. Maybe that was why his spirit had fled from him at the Raven camp.
"Fa," he said into the dark. "It's me. Torak. Where are you? How do I find you?"
The only answer was the hiss of windblown snow.
Huddled in her sleeping-sack, Renn listened to the whispering snow.
She was hungry and tired, but she knew she wouldn't sleep. The finding charm had been worse than a failure. A wall of ice had slammed shut in her mind. Turn back, commanded the Eagle Owl Mage. None can hinder Eostra.
90
Renn had been left dazed, clutching her pounding head. She felt so bad that when Torak returned, she had to ask him to sprinkle the earthblood around their snow hole. It wasn't a line of power, only a Mage could do that, but it was better than nothing. And maybe the turf man would help keep the tokoroths away.
Curled on her side, Renn watched the sky through the slit in the snow hole, and tried to work out Eostra's purpose.
The Eagle Owl Mage wanted Torak's spirit walking power, that much was clear. But how did she mean to take it? And when?
Torak crawled into the shelter, and Renn heard him take off his boots, pat them down for a pillow, and get into his sleeping-sack. He asked if she felt better, and she said no, and he said he was sorry. A few moments later, his breathing changed. Like a wolf, he had the knack of falling asleep in an instant.
Around middle-night, the half-eaten moon rose, and Renn asked it for help. She'd always felt close to the moon. She was sorry when the sky bear ate it, and she took strength from the fact that it always came back.
The moon.
Renn started awake. Why didn't I see it before? I've been ignoring the moon!
In several days, it would be the dark of the moon. And this moon was special: Souls' Night, when the
91
World Spirit turns from a stag-headed man to a woman with red willow hair. A dangerous time, when ghosts are abroad, seeking the clans they have lost. When the dead get closest to the living. Souls' Night.
This was what Eostra was waiting for. With a clutch of dread, Renn saw how it fitted with what she and Saeunn had foreseen. The
Back on shore, he circled the lake. The land felt empty, but his hunter's eye told him it was not. He spotted splayed wing prints where a gray owl had punched into the snow after a lemming. Farther on, a cluster of shallow hollows, each with a tiny pile of frozen droppings, where willow grouse had huddled together for company. And a web of ptarmigan prints, although no sign of their beds; ptarmigans like to fly high, then dive into soft snow to make a snug, invisible burrow.
They also love birch twigs, so Torak broke off some ankle-high branches of dwarf birch, rubbed off the ice, and stuck them in a patch of snow to make a tempting cluster, in which he hid snares of looped twine. He did the same with willow for the grouse.
Farther up the slope, he found a hare trail. Following it to a windy ridge, he set his snare just before the point where the hare would have to leave the safety of the
89
scrub and cross open ground. It would be preoccupied, and so less likely to notice a snare.
By now, Torak was giddy with hunger. All that awaited him at camp was his share of the hazelnuts. The sky was a deep, cold blue, strewn with stars. The moon was not yet up, but he made out the fanged blackness of the Mountains--and above them, faint and far, the red star of winter. The eye of the Great Auroch.
When the red eye is highest, Fa had said as he lay dying, the demons are strongest.
The Eagle Owl Mage and her minions were vivid in Torak's mind; but Fa's face was a blur. With a shock, Torak realized that he'd become a different person since his father had died. Maybe Fa wouldn't even recognize him. Maybe that was why his spirit had fled from him at the Raven camp.
"Fa," he said into the dark. "It's me. Torak. Where are you? How do I find you?"
The only answer was the hiss of windblown snow.
Huddled in her sleeping-sack, Renn listened to the whispering snow.
She was hungry and tired, but she knew she wouldn't sleep. The finding charm had been worse than a failure. A wall of ice had slammed shut in her mind. Turn back, commanded the Eagle Owl Mage. None can hinder Eostra.
90
Renn had been left dazed, clutching her pounding head. She felt so bad that when Torak returned, she had to ask him to sprinkle the earthblood around their snow hole. It wasn't a line of power, only a Mage could do that, but it was better than nothing. And maybe the turf man would help keep the tokoroths away.
Curled on her side, Renn watched the sky through the slit in the snow hole, and tried to work out Eostra's purpose.
The Eagle Owl Mage wanted Torak's spirit walking power, that much was clear. But how did she mean to take it? And when?
Torak crawled into the shelter, and Renn heard him take off his boots, pat them down for a pillow, and get into his sleeping-sack. He asked if she felt better, and she said no, and he said he was sorry. A few moments later, his breathing changed. Like a wolf, he had the knack of falling asleep in an instant.
Around middle-night, the half-eaten moon rose, and Renn asked it for help. She'd always felt close to the moon. She was sorry when the sky bear ate it, and she took strength from the fact that it always came back.
The moon.
Renn started awake. Why didn't I see it before? I've been ignoring the moon!
In several days, it would be the dark of the moon. And this moon was special: Souls' Night, when the
91
World Spirit turns from a stag-headed man to a woman with red willow hair. A dangerous time, when ghosts are abroad, seeking the clans they have lost. When the dead get closest to the living. Souls' Night.
This was what Eostra was waiting for. With a clutch of dread, Renn saw how it fitted with what she and Saeunn had foreseen. The
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