Wolf & Raven Read online

  The sight of shock on Yngrid’s face haunted her and the taste of her fear was bitter in on the tongue. The look of confusion, of surprise and fear that had crossed Yngrid’s face twisted in her mind until it became anger, hatred and revulsion. Pain throbbed in Kari’s chest at that and she collapsed onto the cold dark ground. Gasping she desperately tried to suck air into burning lungs that could do nothing but cry their loneliness.

  Finally, her cries stopped and she raised her head before looking around in shock. Around her bobbed lights, bright but misty, yellow and flickering blue they floated gently in the air around her as the barrow mounds raised above the ground and enclosed her in a valley of ice. I couldn’t have come so far she thought as the lights floated gently, it makes no sense.

  The barrows were a place of death. Kari had been told this since she was a little child and had no reason to doubt now. The burial chambers of great heroes and evil men both they raised from the ground around her. Stone archways marked each one and led deep into the earth where they were haunted by wraiths, spirits like those which bobbed lazily around her.

  However, wraiths were not the danger here she knew. Harmless creatures unless roused they would simply follow and watch. No, it was the other creatures that haunted this place. Creatures drawn to the dead and with evil temperament they would stalk you, driving you onwards. Eventually, when you were at your most terrified, they would lead you down to the underworld and feed on your spirit until you became a husk of yourself. A walking shell for them to inhabit so they may go amongst the warmth once more.

  As she watched the wraiths around her weaved in a dance she could not decipher and her world whirled darkly. Pressing her hands into the dirt Kari tried to find purchase in this madness that she had run blindly into. Fingers spread across the ground and then sprung back, stung by something in the dim darkness. Curiosity battled with fear and the fear was strong but she was shaman born, chosen because she could face the darkness. Turning her head away from the wraiths she looked down at her hand.

  Glinting in the darkness, silver metal with darkness attached and carefully she picked it up. A broach, in the image of Raven lay in her hand, its fastening still wickedly sharp and now coloured with a drop of blood from her hand. A grave gift but what is it doing outside of its barrow? Studying the object, she saw it was something that would have been buried with one of the great ones in the barrow and her heart beat in wonder.

  It was a perfect imitation of Raven but reversed. Where Raven was black of wing, dark of feather this was bright and silver still. Where Raven had eyes of darkness that searched out the night the broach had eyes of light, a stone she did not recognise placed as an eye but for what purpose she could not gather. I should leave it. Years of teachings, of respect for the dead made her hand heavy and she wanted to drop the broach.

  The wraiths around her moved towards her as if they had heard her thoughts and as their misty light touched her she felt their coldness on her skin. At their touch, she clenched her fist around the grave gift and felt the broach enclose in her hand, press against her skin. The wraith’s moved away again, and she nodded. “I accept this gift ancestral spirits. I thank you for it with an open heart and a glad spirit.” Feeling emboldened she stood, her hand outstretched and the wraiths danced around her.

  She took a step and the wraiths moved with her, all except one side that refused to move. She remembered their touch, remembered the cold of death and instinctively she moved away. Instantly the wraiths moved to keep up, and corralling her like the sturdy oxen she found herself being led.

  Led by the glowing balls of ancient spirits she walked deeper into the barrows. Paths long since abandoned were trodden once again as she was led and she felt a shiver of fear as she realised where she was going. The centre, they’re taking me to the centre she thought as she walked and at that thought her heart beat faster for she knew what was at the centre.

  The largest barrow, the first tomb and the resting place of a long since forgotten hero waited for her and approaching it she heard a deep rumble. Slowly the large stone block that covered the entrance slid downwards, disappearing into the earth with a groan and she felt the sticky caress of powerful magic around her. Heart beating faster than it did when she was with Yngrid her chest heaved as the air closed around her becoming thick and urgent.

  The wraiths crowded her, their cold mist touching her skin but here, under the earth, they no longer felt of death. At their touch, she felt a shiver of magic and could hear the song they moved to. Snatches of melody caressed her skin, wrapped her in wordless music and she took a step forward into the darkness of the barrow. Moving ahead of her, the wraiths in front lit the way for her whilst the ones behind urged her onwards with a command more subtle than any she had known.

  In the darkness the wraiths led her as the entrance became a tunnel which sloped downwards. As she moved through the tunnel she carefully tread over bones that stuck out of the ground. They stuck out of the earth like gleaming white grave flowers, bones of barrow robbers no doubt. Raiders who would plunder the grave gifts for themselves and who did not honour the dead. Its rich earth smells filled her nose and down here, under the earth the cold of the wraiths turned to heat and she felt strangely safe.

  The warmth that caressed her as the wraiths moved against her skin reminded her of fingers, reminded her of Yngrid’s lips. Tears threatened to fall at the memory of pressing herself against her friend and the song of the wraiths changed, from enchantment to sorrow as they shared her pain with her. They moved closer eager to take her pain away and their warmth spread throughout her entire body.

  The tunnel opened up into a chamber under the earth and as she entered torches long dead blazed into life. Smokey light filled the chamber and Kari found herself looking at a long dead chieftain, sitting on his throne. Dressed in armour that was ragged and torn she could see glints of steel behind the worn and decomposing leather. A skull, bereft of hair and sight sat atop this pile of leather and its hands lay on top the pommel of an axe, broad and dull.

  “Why do you sorrow daughter?” The words echoed in the chamber. Strong and dark they sounded, they had a lilt from a time before her own. The air was thick and heavy with expectation and as she watched the chieftain’s body seemed to become more solid, more real than the wraiths around her. Then their warmth moved away from her, obeying some unspoken command and she was left with the cold of the dead.

  Turning she watched as the wraiths that had led her to this place crowded behind her, their pale misty light merging together as they moved across each other becoming momentarily stronger before moving onwards again. Turning back to the chieftain she felt Raven’s broach in her hand giving her courage and she addressed the long dead figure.

  “My duty and my spirit belong to Raven, but my heart belongs to another. I cannot have both and so I sorrow for the one I must give up.” Her voice she wanted to be strong but it trembled in the chamber as she faced the figure.

  “Why can you not have both?” The question surprised her and she frowned. “A leader must be one with their people yes, but to truly lead you must follow and who better to follow than the one who rules your heart?” The voice spoke as the long dead figure regarded her and Kari stared at it.

  “Raven demands I treat all his people equally. I cannot give my heart to one for fear I would treat that one above everyone else. If I am to serve his people, my people, as a shaman I must remain aloof away from them. That is the way it is, the way it has always been.”

  “Your desire to help your people is great but this price is surely too much? To remove yourself from the calling of your heart is a price too heavy to bear. No duty can be worth the sorrow you feel now.”

  It’s testing me. Feeling a strength she never knew she had Kari took a step forward. “Spirit you will not get me to leave my obligation to Raven. I have his image here in my hand to remind me of whom I am. I hear his wings in my ears and see the sky in my dreams. I am his shaman, and I will follow his commands no matter how sorrowful they may be.”

  “Yes, you are Ravens.” Her eyes went wide as the chieftain moved with creaking bones and crackling leather. Slowly it stood, dust and earth tumbling from its body as rose from its long slumber, its dirty white and ivory coloured knuckles gripping the axe shaft tightly. “You are his daughter, called to his service since before you were born. Watch and know what transpires in the world above for you have been betrayed.”

  She stood open-mouthed and heart beating fast as the skeletons hand rose. Harsh words she could not understand escaped its decayed lips, and a ball of darkness grew at its fingertips. Slowly it widened until with a shout the chieftains skeleton sent the ball towards her.

  Arms wide she felt the darkness enter her. Throwing her head back Kari’s eyes went black as Raven’s own and she saw images in her mind. Images that made her eyes widen in shock and then horror. She saw her village burned, her people slaughtered. She saw her place of birth destroyed and finally she saw Yngrid fall to the floor, a warrior taking his blade from her body and her eyes closing to the darkness around her.

  At the sight of Yngrid falling to the ground Kari felt her knees buckle and fresh tears fall. The blackness disappeared as the corpse moved closer to her but she did not care. She could smell the rot, the death upon him and could taste the magic in the air but it was as ashes in her mouth. Kari’s only thought was the young warrior who lay on the ground of her ruined village.

  “It was Obon who led the raiders to you. It is his shaman who has turned his back on his own people and his duty to Raven. Raven has looked into his dreams, into his heart. He turned from him and from you because he cut himself off from the people around him. He could not follow his heart and in his sorrow he allowed Hare to whisper to him at night.
Slowly his heart blackened and now he is hers.”

  Kari looked up at the skeletal figure, at the chieftain with tears streaming down her face. “And what should I do? Go to him and learn his ways? How can I serve my people and Raven when I no longer have a people to serve?”

  “No” The king’s word filled the barrow with power. “You will not learn his ways. You will learn Raven’s ways, and I will show you things he does not know for the world is changing once more. You will learn the ways of power, of the wilds and of shifting and you will avenge your people on his traitorous shaman.”

  The king’s eyes blazed with a light that filled the barrow. “I bring Raven’s words to you Kari Wolflover, Kari Ravensbride. Listen and obey for these are his words.”

  The skeleton kings voice changed, became deeper with power that made her head spin “I give you my solemn oath daughter. Do this, and you will not be punished when the time comes for you to follow your heart. It is time for a new way, a way that does not keep you from your people. When all is done you will find a new people and teach them my lessons and you will not need to keep yourself apart from them.”

  Slowly Kari raised her head and stared at the grinning skull. Ice ran through her veins as she shook her head. “Oh my lord you are wrong. I have no heart left to follow. I will gain revenge on Obon for what he did to my shining warrior but after that, I will have no reason to live anymore.”

  She felt skeletal fingers touch her cheek and stared into the dark recesses of bony eye pits. “Keep my broach. It will allow you to travel safely between your realm and my own. Go into the wilds and learn what we have to teach. There will be tests and you may die but if you hold fast I promise you the power to revenge yourself.”

  The sound of wings flapping filled the chamber. Louder and louder it became until Kari could bear it no longer and pressing her hands to her ears she fell to the ground, unconsciousness claiming her.

  Once again the king’s voice changed “I will earn back your love my daughter.” The skeletal form slowly brushed a strand of dark hair away from Kari’s face as delicately and softly as any father. “You need a reason to go on, and I will give you that reason I promise. I will give you her back and when your heart is healed once more little raven, then we will both have our vengeance.”

  Chapter 5

  Darkness and shadows were all around her as Yngrid stood. Dusk seemed to fill the air, and looking up she could see neither star nor the moon. “Mother? Father?” Turning she could see no bodies, smelt no smoke in the air. She held no weapons, could not feel Sun-fire at her hip and with panic setting in she tried to take a breath and failed.

  The fluttering of wings filled the air. Heavy and thick they sank her to her knees and pain ripped across her shoulders. Screaming she was lifted up into the air and into eternal inky blackness. Dimly a voice whispered “Breath” and the heart in her chest ached as it began to heave.

  Fire and screams filled her being with each tortured breath she took. Her senses returned, and with them her recent memories. She watched once again as her village was raided, the warriors killing and setting fire to everything. She watched once again as she moved through the attacking raiders, a spectre of death come to avenge those fallen and with each one that fell she heard a voice whisper “Protect her warrior.”

  The villagers faces melted away and Kari’s face swam in her darkness. “Get up Yngrid. You have to wake up. You have to open your eyes for me, or you will never know why my heart is yours.” With a start, the young warrior’s eyes flew wide, and she gasped as pain, now free to be felt, made its presence known.

  Lying on the cold hard ground the light of day made her groan and her side felt sticky and hot. Each small movement she made sent agony through her, as hot as the blade that began to beat against her chest in time with her heart. Pulling it from beneath her she saw the light that lived within still flickered and closed her eyes as its warmth slowly brought her skin to life.

  As she looked around, she saw her parents, lying feet from her. Their eyes were closed and pressing her head to the ground Yngrid felt tears fall as the agony in her side was overlaid by an entirely different pain. Slowly she crawled towards them, each movement of her limbs ripping a groan from her mouth from between sobs that rose in pitch with each centimetre she moved.

  Something ripped in her side. Pain and fresh heat spilled down her skin but she paid it no mind. Pressing her hand against her wound she moved to her parents and reached out a trembling hand to touch them. “Mother, father, I know not what to do. I am not strong enough to go on without you.” Weakness made her head swim and darkness threatened once again to pull her into its warm embrace.

  “You survived the attack, survived being stabbed in the side and survived a night in the winter cold. You are strong enough to survive this.” The voice was male, dusty and ancient and Yngrid went cold as memories of raiders became urgent. Getting to her feet she turned, felt her side groan in fresh torment and hissed with the effort of it. Behind her stood a man, dressed in furs and carrying a sword against his hip. Hair black as night and eyes that followed suit watched her as she stumbled with unsteady feet.

  Gritting her teeth against the pain, she held Sun-fire in her hand and raised it until the trembling point faced him. “You are no raider. What do you do here Shaman?”

  “Peace.” The dark stranger held up his hand. “I saw the smoke from the road and only wish to help honour the dead.” His gaze never wavered as they faced each other. “I would help if you would allow me.”

  She looked at him warily. Her head throbbed, and she could still feel the sticky red lifeblood of her veins as it slowly leaked down from the wound in her side with each panting exertion she made. These were as nothing to the pain in her heart but she held her hand as steady as she could as it held her father made sword. “You are not with the traders nor have I seen you before. Why should I trust you?”

  He shrugged “Trust me or not it is your choice.” Nodding to her side, “We can wait until you die from your wound if you wish. Then I can honour you with your family, and you can be together once again and you will never know the why of it,” he shrugged “Is there nothing you can think of worth living for young warrior? No one who might need your help? No reason to go on?”

  Once again she saw Kari run from her, away from the village before the attack. She could still be alive if they did not find her. She looked around, her eyes drawn to the bodies of her parents and a hunger that was so strong she was nearly overcome took her and her eyes flickered back to the stranger. They seemed to glow with a fire she did not feel. “Revenge,” she whispered. “I need to stay alive to get vengeance for my family, for all of them.”

  He frowned and then sighed. “Take my advice young warrior. Vengeance will keep you moving when little else will, but it will not give you a reason to live when all is done.”

  “I have little reason to live shaman.” The bitterness in her voice echoed loudly in the ruins of the quiet village.

  “As long as you have desire in your heart, there is a reason to live young one.” He moved towards her, “Now, let me tend your wound so you can live long enough to realise that and together we will honour the dead of this village.”

  Reaching for her dress he lifted it and she stiffened as he gazed at her blood covered skin. “You are fated to live young one. This wound and the cold of the night would have killed a lesser warrior.”

  “I am no warrior. I could not save them when I was called upon to do so. I could not protect this village when needed.” She turned her head, refused to look at him as the guilt she felt filled her body. “That I am alive is just another cruel trick fate has played to me.”

  “Another cruel trick? Was there a first then?” He murmured it as if not listening and then his hand pressed against her wound. She screamed in agony stronger than any before pulsed through her and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. She nearly fell to her knees once more and only the arms of the stranger around her held her up as her skin screamed. Then it was over and she was standing still as he let her go.