Read Online Oath Breaker by Michelle Paver, Geoff Taylor - Free Book Online Page B
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
Ads: Link
thoughts. "We'll have to try your plan right here."
"Could you make the shots?"
"I think so. If we climb a tree." He nodded.
Renn found a tall lime that looked easier to climb than the others, as it had an odd snake of thickened bark rippling down its trunk. "Lightning-struck," she murmured, "but it survived. Maybe that'll bring us luck."
We'll need it, thought Torak. His plan was simple, and if it worked, their decoys would draw the Aurochs north, away from the Blackwater, allowing them to slip across. If it worked. He was losing faith fast.
Linking his hands, he boosted Renn into the tree. Then he knelt and told Wolf to stay close, to come back in the Light--and be alert for traps. Wolf's breath warmed his face as his muzzle brushed his eyelids. Stay safe, pack-brother, he told Torak.
He was so trusting. And Torak was leading him into terrible danger.
On impulse, Torak took his medicine horn from its pouch, shook out a little earthblood, and daubed it on Wolf's forehead, where he couldn't lick if off. Stay safe, packbrother, he said. Putting his hand on the lime's rough bark, he begged the Forest to protect Wolf.
The lightning scar was thicker than his wrist, and he
94
climbed it like a rope. He felt the tree sensing their presence. He asked it not to give them away. Below him, Wolf's silver eyes glowed. Then he vanished into the dark.
Huddled in a fork made by three great limbs, Torak and Renn kept their sleeping-sacks rolled, relying on their reindeer-hide clothes to stay warm. "We'll wait here till morning," whispered Torak. "Less chance of being seen." And less chance of escape if they were seen, but neither of them mentioned that. Renn pointed to a tall spruce north of the Aurochs' camp. Its upper branches spiked the stars; they should catch the rising sun. From her quiver she drew one of the arrows she'd prepared.
As she took aim, her face tensed with concentration. Her disguise made her alien: as if, thought Torak, she'd become Deep Forest.
Her bow creaked. She lowered it again. The night was too quiet. The Aurochs might hear the twang.
At last a gust of wind woke the trees. She took aim and let fly. The arrow struck the spruce, and its burden swung free on the cord tied to the shaft. Renn nocked another arrow and hit another tree, farther east; then another and another, each time waiting for the breeze to cover the sound.
Now they had to wait till dawn, and hope the plan worked.
They didn't have another.
95
***
In the darkness, firelight flared.
Renn gripped Torak's arm. The Auroch camp was much closer than they'd thought.
High in the lime tree, they watched tall figures moving with the silent purposefulness of ants. Several gathered around a tree in the center of camp, smearing something dark on its lower branches. Two more knelt to waken another fire.
Torak was mystified. Why waken one from scratch when you could take a burning branch from the first? And they weren't using strike-fires. One man spun a stick between his palms, drilling it into a piece of wood which he held down on the ground with one foot, while he kept the drill straight by means of a crossbar clamped between his teeth. It worked. Smoke curled. The second man fed the flames beard-moss, then kindling. When the fire was fully awake, everyone knelt and touched their foreheads to the ground.
More Aurochs emerged from the Forest. Torak counted five, seven, ten. Each man--and they were all men--bore an axe, a bow, two knives, and a shield: a narrow, armlength wedge of wood, whose pointed end he thrust into the earth, before drawing off his netting hood to reveal a caked head and bizarrely ridged and furrowed face.
Torak broke out in a cold sweat. Gaup was right. 96 These people were different. And yet they were setting spits over the fires, and soon he smelled the delicious, familiar smell of roasting wood grouse, weirdly at odds with the silent camp. "Why don't they speak?" he whispered.
"I think it's to make them more treelike," breathed Renn.
"Could you make the shots?"
"I think so. If we climb a tree." He nodded.
Renn found a tall lime that looked easier to climb than the others, as it had an odd snake of thickened bark rippling down its trunk. "Lightning-struck," she murmured, "but it survived. Maybe that'll bring us luck."
We'll need it, thought Torak. His plan was simple, and if it worked, their decoys would draw the Aurochs north, away from the Blackwater, allowing them to slip across. If it worked. He was losing faith fast.
Linking his hands, he boosted Renn into the tree. Then he knelt and told Wolf to stay close, to come back in the Light--and be alert for traps. Wolf's breath warmed his face as his muzzle brushed his eyelids. Stay safe, pack-brother, he told Torak.
He was so trusting. And Torak was leading him into terrible danger.
On impulse, Torak took his medicine horn from its pouch, shook out a little earthblood, and daubed it on Wolf's forehead, where he couldn't lick if off. Stay safe, packbrother, he said. Putting his hand on the lime's rough bark, he begged the Forest to protect Wolf.
The lightning scar was thicker than his wrist, and he
94
climbed it like a rope. He felt the tree sensing their presence. He asked it not to give them away. Below him, Wolf's silver eyes glowed. Then he vanished into the dark.
Huddled in a fork made by three great limbs, Torak and Renn kept their sleeping-sacks rolled, relying on their reindeer-hide clothes to stay warm. "We'll wait here till morning," whispered Torak. "Less chance of being seen." And less chance of escape if they were seen, but neither of them mentioned that. Renn pointed to a tall spruce north of the Aurochs' camp. Its upper branches spiked the stars; they should catch the rising sun. From her quiver she drew one of the arrows she'd prepared.
As she took aim, her face tensed with concentration. Her disguise made her alien: as if, thought Torak, she'd become Deep Forest.
Her bow creaked. She lowered it again. The night was too quiet. The Aurochs might hear the twang.
At last a gust of wind woke the trees. She took aim and let fly. The arrow struck the spruce, and its burden swung free on the cord tied to the shaft. Renn nocked another arrow and hit another tree, farther east; then another and another, each time waiting for the breeze to cover the sound.
Now they had to wait till dawn, and hope the plan worked.
They didn't have another.
95
***
In the darkness, firelight flared.
Renn gripped Torak's arm. The Auroch camp was much closer than they'd thought.
High in the lime tree, they watched tall figures moving with the silent purposefulness of ants. Several gathered around a tree in the center of camp, smearing something dark on its lower branches. Two more knelt to waken another fire.
Torak was mystified. Why waken one from scratch when you could take a burning branch from the first? And they weren't using strike-fires. One man spun a stick between his palms, drilling it into a piece of wood which he held down on the ground with one foot, while he kept the drill straight by means of a crossbar clamped between his teeth. It worked. Smoke curled. The second man fed the flames beard-moss, then kindling. When the fire was fully awake, everyone knelt and touched their foreheads to the ground.
More Aurochs emerged from the Forest. Torak counted five, seven, ten. Each man--and they were all men--bore an axe, a bow, two knives, and a shield: a narrow, armlength wedge of wood, whose pointed end he thrust into the earth, before drawing off his netting hood to reveal a caked head and bizarrely ridged and furrowed face.
Torak broke out in a cold sweat. Gaup was right. 96 These people were different. And yet they were setting spits over the fires, and soon he smelled the delicious, familiar smell of roasting wood grouse, weirdly at odds with the silent camp. "Why don't they speak?" he whispered.
"I think it's to make them more treelike," breathed Renn.
Similar Books
