Read Online Oath Breaker by Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor
Tags: Fiction, Death, Historical, Voyages and travels, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Prehistoric peoples, Animals, Philosophy, Murder, Friendship, Good and Evil, Adventure fiction, Battles, enemies, Demoniac possession, Wolves & Coyotes, Good & Evil, Prehistory
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sure that she'd seen. She had. Bitten One, said Wolf. Near? said Torak. Many lopes. Torak bent close to Renn. "He's picked up Thiazzi's trail," he whispered, "but he's far away." "And still no Aurochs?" He shook his head.
She was puzzled. So was he. They'd been creeping between the shadowy trees forever, following the river
90
upstream, but staying well back from its banks. So far, no sign of Aurochs.
The trees, though ... Roots snagged Torak's boots. Twig fingers brushed his face. It was warmer in the Deep Forest. The air smelled greener, more alive. Bats flitted overhead, and the undergrowth stirred with secret rustlings. Moss dripped from every branch and log and boulder--as if, thought Torak, a great green tide had drowned the Forest and then receded. And behind it all, he felt the immense, watching presence of the trees.
Wolf turned aside and ran to an ash tree. Rising on his hind legs, he put both forepaws on the trunk and sniffed a low-hanging branch. Odd, he told Torak with a twitch of his whiskers.
Torak touched the branch. His fingers came away slimy, smelling strangely of earth.
Renn pointed to the branch. What is it?
He shook his head, wiping his hand on his leggings and wishing he hadn't touched it. Deep Forest clans were known for their skill with poisons. They reached a grove of murmuring alders. As they entered, the trees fell silent, as if they didn't want to be overheard.
Wolf halted and snuffed the air.
Bitten One. Over the Wet.
Torak was still taking that in when Wolf lowered his head.
91
Den.
Beyond the alders, Torak glimpsed shadows moving in blackness. Bulky shapes that might be shelters.
"Camp!" Renn breathed in his ear.
"And Wolf says Thiazzi is across the river, in Forest Horse territory."
"We have to go back," she urged, "cross downstream."
That risked confusing Wolf and losing Thiazzi's trail, but they had no choice. They started to backtrack.
At least, they tried, but Torak got the sense that they'd lost their way. The gurgle of the river seemed fainter, and he caught the sharp, unmistakable scent of crow garlic, which they hadn't encountered on the way in.
He strained to pierce the gloom. A dock leaf skewered on a twig glimmered in starlight. A whisper of air cooled his cheek as an owl or a bat swept past. That leaf.
He stopped so abruptly that Renn walked into him.
"What is it?" "Not sure. Don't move."
That twig could not have speared the leaf by chance. It pierced the leaf blade like a needle, straight down its length, to the right of the midrib. It had to be a signal. To the right of the midrib.
He glanced to his right, saw only a dim lattice of branches.
92
There.
Ahead, to the right, a sapling had been bent back and secured by a deft arrangement of crossed sticks. Mounted at its tip was a vicious spike. From the crossed sticks, near-invisible, a rope stretched across his path at chest height. Another step and he would have sprung the trap, releasing the sapling and sending the spike plunging into his side.
Torak licked his lips. They tasted chalky from the disguise. He showed Renn the trap. Her hand went to her shoulder, where her clan-creature feathers had been. They had to push through junipers to get around the trap, which had been cunningly set between the thorny bushes, to drive its victim toward it. When they were through, Renn hissed, "This isn't the way we came."
"I know. And it was sheer luck I spotted that trap." He didn't need to say it: How many more lay in wait?
Wolf turned his head toward the river, and they followed his gaze. Had that shadow just moved?
A moment later, starlight glinted on a spearhead.
The Auroch hunter was maybe twenty paces away, walking upstream. Torak and Renn sank into the bracken--slowly, so as not to attract attention by sudden movement. Torak's mind raced. Upriver lay the Auroch camp. Downriver, the way back to the Open Forest, and maybe more lethal traps. On the riverbank, at least one Auroch hunter was keeping watch.
93
Renn voiced his
She was puzzled. So was he. They'd been creeping between the shadowy trees forever, following the river
90
upstream, but staying well back from its banks. So far, no sign of Aurochs.
The trees, though ... Roots snagged Torak's boots. Twig fingers brushed his face. It was warmer in the Deep Forest. The air smelled greener, more alive. Bats flitted overhead, and the undergrowth stirred with secret rustlings. Moss dripped from every branch and log and boulder--as if, thought Torak, a great green tide had drowned the Forest and then receded. And behind it all, he felt the immense, watching presence of the trees.
Wolf turned aside and ran to an ash tree. Rising on his hind legs, he put both forepaws on the trunk and sniffed a low-hanging branch. Odd, he told Torak with a twitch of his whiskers.
Torak touched the branch. His fingers came away slimy, smelling strangely of earth.
Renn pointed to the branch. What is it?
He shook his head, wiping his hand on his leggings and wishing he hadn't touched it. Deep Forest clans were known for their skill with poisons. They reached a grove of murmuring alders. As they entered, the trees fell silent, as if they didn't want to be overheard.
Wolf halted and snuffed the air.
Bitten One. Over the Wet.
Torak was still taking that in when Wolf lowered his head.
91
Den.
Beyond the alders, Torak glimpsed shadows moving in blackness. Bulky shapes that might be shelters.
"Camp!" Renn breathed in his ear.
"And Wolf says Thiazzi is across the river, in Forest Horse territory."
"We have to go back," she urged, "cross downstream."
That risked confusing Wolf and losing Thiazzi's trail, but they had no choice. They started to backtrack.
At least, they tried, but Torak got the sense that they'd lost their way. The gurgle of the river seemed fainter, and he caught the sharp, unmistakable scent of crow garlic, which they hadn't encountered on the way in.
He strained to pierce the gloom. A dock leaf skewered on a twig glimmered in starlight. A whisper of air cooled his cheek as an owl or a bat swept past. That leaf.
He stopped so abruptly that Renn walked into him.
"What is it?" "Not sure. Don't move."
That twig could not have speared the leaf by chance. It pierced the leaf blade like a needle, straight down its length, to the right of the midrib. It had to be a signal. To the right of the midrib.
He glanced to his right, saw only a dim lattice of branches.
92
There.
Ahead, to the right, a sapling had been bent back and secured by a deft arrangement of crossed sticks. Mounted at its tip was a vicious spike. From the crossed sticks, near-invisible, a rope stretched across his path at chest height. Another step and he would have sprung the trap, releasing the sapling and sending the spike plunging into his side.
Torak licked his lips. They tasted chalky from the disguise. He showed Renn the trap. Her hand went to her shoulder, where her clan-creature feathers had been. They had to push through junipers to get around the trap, which had been cunningly set between the thorny bushes, to drive its victim toward it. When they were through, Renn hissed, "This isn't the way we came."
"I know. And it was sheer luck I spotted that trap." He didn't need to say it: How many more lay in wait?
Wolf turned his head toward the river, and they followed his gaze. Had that shadow just moved?
A moment later, starlight glinted on a spearhead.
The Auroch hunter was maybe twenty paces away, walking upstream. Torak and Renn sank into the bracken--slowly, so as not to attract attention by sudden movement. Torak's mind raced. Upriver lay the Auroch camp. Downriver, the way back to the Open Forest, and maybe more lethal traps. On the riverbank, at least one Auroch hunter was keeping watch.
93
Renn voiced his
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