The Hawk Eternal (13 page)

Overlapping Lennox's large footprint was another print twice as long. Badraig swore, the sound hissing between clenched teeth. Swiftly he returned to the men in the hollow.

'The beast is hunting them,“ he told Cambil. 'We must move on.”

'That might not be wise,' the Hunt Lord replied. 'We could miss vital signs in the darkness. Worse, we could stumble on the beast itself.'

'I agree,' said Caswallon. 'How close behind them is it, Badraig?'

'Hard to say. Several hours, perhaps less.'

'Damn all druids!' said Cambil, his broad face flushed and angry. 'Damn them and their Gates.'

Caswallon said nothing. Wrapping himself in his blanket, he leaned back, closed his eyes. He thought of Gaelen and wondered if Fate could be so cruel as to save the boy on one day, only to have him brutally slain thereafter. He knew that it could. All life was chance.

But the Gates were a mystery he had never been able to fathom.

The elders had a story of a time just before Caswallon was born, when a leather-winged flying creature had appeared in the mountains, killing sheep and even calves. That had been slain by the then Hunt Lord, a strong proud man who sought to be the first High King since Earis. But the people had voted against him. Embittered, he had taken thirty of his followers and somehow found a way to cross the churning waters of Attafoss to the Island of Vallon. There he had overpowered the druids and led his men through the Forbidden Gate.

Twenty years later he returned alone, gravely wounded. Taliesen had asked for his death, but the Druid Council denied him and the

man was returned to the Farlain. No longer Hunt Lord, he would tell no man of his adventures, saying only that a terrible vision had been revealed to him.

Many thought him mad. They mocked him and the once-proud lord took it all, making his home in a mountain cave where he lived like a hermit. Caswallon had befriended him, but even with Caswallon the man would not speak of the world beyond the Druid's Gate. But of the Gates themselves he spoke, and Caswallon had listened.

The feeling as you pass through,' Oracle had told him, 'is unlike any other experience life can offer. For a moment only you lose all sense of self, and experience a great calm. Then there is another moment of sense-numbing speed, and the mind is full of colours, all different, moving past and through you. Then the cold strikes marrow-deep and you are human again on the other side.'

'But where did you go?' Caswallon asked.

'I cannot tell you.'

The wonder of it, Caswallon knew, was that Oracle had returned at all. There were many stories of people disappearing in the mountains, and even rare occasions when strange animals or birds appeared.

But Oracle was the only man he had heard of - save for Taliesen -to pass through and return. There were so many questions Oracle could have answered. So many mysteries he could lay to rest.

'Why can you not tell me?' Caswallon asked.

'I promised the druids I would not.'

Caswallon asked no more. A promise was a thing of steel and ice and no clansman would expect to break such an oath.

'All will be revealed to you, Caswallon. I promise you,' Oracle had told him cryptically.

Now as the young clansman sat beneath a moon-lit sky his mind harked back to that conversation. He wasn't at all sure he desired such knowledge. All he wanted was to find the boys and return them safely to the valley.

Badraig prepared a fire and the men gathered round it silently, fishing in their packs for food. Only Leofas slept.

Cambil pushed back the locks of blond hair from his forehead and wiped sweat from his face. He was tired, filled with the exhaustion only fear can produce. Agwaine was his only son, and he loved him

more than anything else the world could provide. The thought of the lad being hunted by a beast from beyond the Gates filled him with terror; he could not face the possibility that Agwaine might die.

'We will find them,' said Caswallon softly.

'Yes,' answered the Hunt Lord. 'But alive?'

Caswallon saw the man's angular, honest face twist, as if a sudden pain had struck him. Beneath the wiry yellow-gold beard Cambil was biting his lip hard, seeking to prevent the collapse into tears of frustration.

'What did you think of the pack incident?' asked Caswallon suddenly.

'What?'

'Gwalchmai dropping his pack and outstripping Agwaine.'

'Oh, that. Clever move. Agwaine did not give up, though. He ran him to the end.'

'Bear that in mind, Cambil. The boy is a fighter. Given half an opportunity he will survive.'

'The thing will probably seek to avoid Man,' said Badraig. 'It is the way with animals of the wild, is it not? They know Man is a killer. They walk warily round him.'

'It didn't walk too warily around the Pallides scout,' said a balding bearded clansman from the west.

'True, Beric - but then, from the tracks, the Pallides was stalking it, though I can't see why. Still, it is well-known the Pallides are long on nerve and short on brain.'

Slowly, as the night passed, the men drifted off to sleep until at last only Cambil and Caswallon remained sitting side by side before the fire.

'It's been a long time since we sat like this, cousin,' said Cambil, breaking a lengthy silence.

'Yes. But we walk different paths now. You have responsibility.'

'It could have been yours.'

'No,' said Caswallon.

'Many would have voted for you.'

'They would have been wrong.'

'If Agwaine is taken I shall take my daughter and leave the Farlain,' said Cambil, staring into the glowing ashes of the dying blaze.

'Now is not the time to think of it,' Caswallon told him. Tomorrow we will talk as we walk the boys home.'

Cambil said nothing more. He unrolled his blanket, curled it round his shoulders and settled down against his pack.

Caswallon stood and made his way slowly up the farthest slope into the deep, cool pine-woods beyond. From the tallest point he gazed to the north-east, seeking sign of a camp-fire, yet knowing he would see nothing. The boys were too well-trained.

Sixteen miles north-east the four companions were arguing over the choicest morsels of a freshly-cooked rabbit. Lennox, who had cooked the cony and served it, was protesting innocence, despite his plate bearing twice as much meat as any other.

'But I am bigger,' he said seriously. 'My pack carries all the cooking equipment. And it was my snare.'

Gwalchmai broke from the argument for long enough to pop a small piece of meat in his mouth and begin chewing. He dropped from the discussion instantly, tugging surreptitiously at Gaelen's cloak. Gaelen saw the expression on his face. He tried his own meat, chewed for a moment, then removed the offending gobbet. Lennox and Layne were still arguing furiously. 'I think Lennox is right,' said Gaelen suddenly. 'He is the largest and he has the greatest burden. Here, take mine too, my friend.'

'I couldn't,' said Lennox, his eyes betraying his greed.

'No, truly. One small rabbit is scarce enough to build your strength.' Gaelen tipped the contents of his plate on Lennox's own. In the meantime Gwalchmai had whispered to Layne.

'I'm sorry, brother,' said Layne, smiling. 'Gaelen has made me realise how selfish I am. Take my portion too.'

'And mine,' added Gwalchmai eagerly.

Lennox sat back on his haunches. 'You are all true friends,' he said, gazing dreamily at his plate. Discarding his knife he scooped a handful of meat into his mouth. For several seconds he chewed in silence, then his face froze. His three companions waited in nerve-tingling silence until he doggedly finished the mouthful and swallowed.

'Is it good?' asked Layne, his face set and serious.

'Yes, it is,' said Lennox. 'But look, I feel bad about taking it all.'

Think nothing of it,' said Gwalchmai swiftly. 'Your need is the greatest.'

'Yes, but

'And you cooked it,' put in Gaelen.

'I know, but..."

'Eat on, brother,' said Layne. 'See, it grows cold and... congeals.'

The dam burst and all three broke into giggling laughter. Realisation struck Lennox and he hurled the diseased meat into the bushes. 'Swine!' he said.

A hundred paces above them, on the edge of the trees, the beast squatted on its haunches glaring down at the fire. The laughter puzzled it, for the sound was similar to the screeching of the small apes of its homeland. Its black nostrils flared, catching the aroma of scorched flesh - rancid-smelling sickly flesh.

The beast snorted, blowing the scent away. It stretched its powerful legs, moving several paces left. Here the flesh scent was different, warm-blooded, salty and alive. The creature's eyes glittered. Hunger urged it to charge the camp and take the meat. Instinct made it fear the fire.

The beast settled down to wait.

Gaelen's dreams were troubled. Once more the Aenir killers pursued him, the pounding of their horses' hooves drumming fear into him as he ran. His legs were heavy, his movements sluggish. Suddenly a calming blue light filled his mind and the warriors faded. A face appeared, wrinkled and ancient, only the dark eyes giving a hint of life.

'The fire,' said a deep melodious voice, though the lips did not move. 'The fire is dying. Awake!'

Gaelen groaned and rolled over, trying to force the man from his mind.

'The fire, fool! Your life is in danger! Awake!"

The calming light disappeared, to be replaced by a red haze. Within the haze was a monster, black and menacing. Its huge jaws slavered, and its taloned hands reached for him.

Gaelen awoke with a jolt, eyes opening to the bright moonlight and the glittering stars in the velvet-dark sky. He glanced at the fire.

As the dream had told him, it was failing fast, the last flickering twigs turning to ash and glowing embers.

The boy did not want to leave the warmth of his blanket, but the dream left an edge of fear in him. He sat up, running his fingers through his hair, scratching at the scar beneath the blaze of white above his left eye. Swiftly he broke twigs and small branches, feeding them to the tiny blaze and blowing life back into the fire. He felt better as the flames danced.

A rustling to his right made him turn. A large bush quivered and a low growl reverberated in the clearing. Gaelen drew his hunting-knife and narrowed his eyes, trying to pierce the darkness. He felt a fool. Had Caswallon not warned him endlessly about staring into fires? Now he could not see clearly. A giant shadow rose above the bush and Gaelen screamed a warning to the others.

Layne rolled from his blanket with knife in hand, standing in a half-crouch beside Gaelen. 'What is it?' Gaelen pointed at the thing beyond the bush. It was at least eight feet high, its head round like a man's except that the jaws were huge and rimmed with curving fangs. Gwalchmai and Lennox had left their beds and were staring horror-struck at the creature.

Gaelen pushed his trembling hand towards the fire, grasping the last of the branches they had stacked. It had not been stripped of its dry leaves for they would be good tinder for the morning blaze. Lifting the branch, Gaelen held it over the flames. The leaves caught instantly, flaring and crackling. On trembling legs, Gaelen advanced towards the beast holding the torch before him.

Layne and Lennox exchanged glances, then followed behind him. Gwalchmai swallowed hard, but he could not force his legs to propel him forward and stood rooted to the spot, watching his friends slowly advance on the nightmarish beast. It was colossal, near nine feet in height, and the light from the blazing branch glinted on its dagger-length talons.

Gaelen's legs were trembling as he approached the monstrosity. It reared up and tensed to leap at the youth but he drew back his arm and flung the blazing brand straight at the creature's face. Flames licked at the shaggy fur around its eyes, flaring up into tongues of fire on its right cheek. A fearful howl tore the silence of the night and the beast turned and sprang away into the night. The boys watched until it blended into the dark woods. Layne placed his hand on Gaelen's shoulder. 'Well done, cousin," he said, his voice unsteady. Tm glad you woke.'

'What in the seven hells was that?' asked Gwalchmai, as they returned to the comfort of the fire.

'I don't know,' said Layne grimly. 'But from the look of those jaws it's not after berries and grubs.'

Gwalchmai retrieved the blazing torch and examined the beast's tracks. Returning to the fire he told Layne, 'It's the same track we saw in the valley. And we know no hunter made it. Congratulations, Gaelen, you saved our lives. There is no doubt of that."

'I had a dream,' Gaelen told him. 'An old man appeared to me, warning me.'

'Did you recognise him?' asked Layne.

'I think he was the druid with Cambil on Hunt Day.'

'Taliesen,' whispered Gwalchmai, glancing at Layne.

'What are we going to do,' asked Lennox. 'Go back?'

'I don't see that we need to,' said Layne. 'We turned the beast away easily enough. And most animals avoid Man anyway. Also we will be at Attafoss in the morning, so we might just as well see it through.'