Chronicles of Ancient Darkness
Chapter 162 : It was a calm, sunny day in the Willow Grouse Moon, and although spring had not yet co

It was a calm, sunny day in the Willow Grouse Moon, and although spring had not yet come, the Forest was beginning to stir. A woodp.e.c.k.e.r drummed in the distance. A tough little bullfinch perched in an ash tree, cracking seeds in its bill. A white hare sat on its hind legs to nibble frost-blackened haws.

Torak hadn't gone far when Wolf appeared and trotted beside him. His fur was spangled with snow, and his amber eyes were bright. Torak asked him where was the pack-sister, and Wolf led him halfway up the side of the valley.

Renn sat on a rock in a patch of sun, re-stringing her bow. Darkfur lay beside her, running her jaws over a bramble branch to clean them, while Rip and Rek perched in a tree, throwing pine cones at Pebble.

Darkfur and the cub came bounding over to greet them. Renn didn't even turn her head. Her hood was thrown back, and her red hair flamed. Torak paused to fix the image in his memory.

'I came to say goodbye,' he said at last.

She glanced at him, then went back to her bow. 'To whom?'

'Renn. I can't stay. And you can't leave.'

'And if I could, you'd want to spare me the choice.'

He did not reply.

Renn stood up and faced him, very pale and composed. 'It's not your choice to make. It's mine.'

Something in the way she said it made his heart skip a beat. 'But . . . you're going to be the Clan Mage.'

'No. That will be Dark.'

Dark.

'Fin-Kedinn saw it before anyone,' said Renn with a break in her voice. 'That's why he got Durrain to stay. Not for me, but for Dark. She says he has amazing skill. And he wants it, he really does.' Two spots of colour had appeared on her cheeks. 'Fin-Kedinn saw it all. He . . .' She swallowed. 'He gave me the choice.'

It was then that Torak saw the rest of her gear piled behind the rock.

'Torak,' Renn said sternly. 'You've tried to leave me behind before. This is the last time. Do you want me to come with you or not?'

Torak tried to speak, but he couldn't. He nodded.

'Say it,' commanded Renn.

'. . . Yes. Yes I want you to come with me.'

She began to smile.

'Yes!' he shouted, lifting her in his arms and swinging her round so that her red hair flew, while the ravens burst into the air in a flurry of wings, and the wolves lashed their tails and howled.

Down in the valley, Fin-Kedinn heard them, rose to his feet, and raised his staff in farewell.

Torak and Renn jumped onto the rock so that Fin-Kedinn could see them, and waved their bows above their heads.

Then they grabbed Renn's gear and headed off into the morning, with the wolves trotting behind them, and the ravens sky-dancing overhead.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.

Torak's world is the world of six thousand years ago: after the Ice Age, but before the spread of farming to his part of north-west Europe, when the land was one vast Forest.

The people of Torak's world looked pretty much like you or me, but their way of life was very different. They didn't have writing, metals or the wheel, but they didn't need them. They were superb survivors. They knew all about the animals, trees, plants and rocks around them. When they wanted something, they knew where to find it, or how to make it.

They lived in small clans, and many of them moved a lot: some staying in camp for just a few days, like the Wolf Clan; others staying for a whole moon or a season, like the Raven and Boar Clans; while others stayed put all year round, like the Seal Clan. Thus some of the clans have moved since the events in Oath Breaker, as you'll see from the slightly amended map.

When I was researching Ghost Hunter, I visited Finnish Lapland in midwinter. There, in the Urkho Kekkonen National Park (part of the Saariselka Wilderness), I snow-shoed for miles, following the trail of an elk, and watched reindeer happily pawing the snow off lichen in temperatures of -18C.

I also spent time in the Dovrefjell highlands in Norway, where, on many solo hikes, I got the feel of the fells, and experienced that strange, haunting feeling of being alone in the mountains. On several occasions I observed musk-oxen, which resemble extremely s.h.a.ggy bison, but are in fact related to sheep. I gathered sc.r.a.ps of their incredibly warm wool, which they'd left behind snagged on branches; and I often had to alter the course of my hikes when a herd of musk-oxen blocked my path. I also climbed the slopes of Mount Snhetta (2286m). Its sudden fogs, eerie crags and treacherous boulder-field gave me much inspiration for the Mountain of Ghosts.

Finally, I have, of course, kept up my friends.h.i.+p with the wolves of the UK Wolf Conservation Trust, who continue to inspire me. It's been a privilege to spend time with wolves whom I first knew as cubs, and who are now happy, healthy, boisterous young adults, thanks to their devoted carers.

I'd like to thank everyone at The UK Wolf Conservation Trust for letting me befriend the wolves; Mr Derrick Coyle, the (now retired) Yeoman Ravenmaster of the Tower of London, whose extensive knowledge and experience of the ravens there has been a continual inspiration; the friendly and helpful people of the district of Ivalo in Finland; Ellen and Knut Nyhus of the Kongsvold Fjeldstue, Dovrefjell, particularly for getting me across the army firing range to the foot of Snhetta, thus enabling me to climb it (almost) to the top.

I want to thank everyone at my publishers, The Orion Publis.h.i.+ng Group, for their whole-hearted support of these books right from the start. I'm also extremely grateful to Geoff Taylor for creating the gorgeous chapter ill.u.s.trations and evocative endpaper maps; and to John Fordham for capturing the essence of each story in his beautiful and distinctive cover designs.

As always, my thanks go to my agent, Peter c.o.x, for encouraging the idea from the very beginning, and for supporting it so tirelessly and skilfully throughout.

Lastly, my special thanks to Fiona Kennedy, who has encouraged me in the writing of these books with such boundless imagination, talent, patience, commitment and understanding. I could not ask for a better publisher and editor.

Mich.e.l.le Paver.

2009.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.

I'd like to thank everyone at The UK Wolf Conservation Trust for letting me befriend the wolves; Mr Derrick Coyle, the (now retired) Yeoman Ravenmaster of the Tower of London, whose extensive knowledge and experience of the ravens there has been a continual inspiration; the friendly and helpful people of the district of Ivalo in Finland; Ellen and Knut Nyhus of the Kongsvold Fjeldstue, Dovrefjell, particularly for getting me across the army firing range to the foot of Snhetta, thus enabling me to climb it (almost) to the top.

I want to thank everyone at my publishers, The Orion Publis.h.i.+ng Group, for their whole-hearted support of these books right from the start. I'm also extremely grateful to Geoff Taylor for creating the gorgeous chapter ill.u.s.trations and evocative endpaper maps; and to John Fordham for capturing the essence of each story in his beautiful and distinctive cover designs.

As always, my thanks go to my agent, Peter c.o.x, for encouraging the idea from the very beginning, and for supporting it so tirelessly and skilfully throughout.

Lastly, my special thanks to Fiona Kennedy, who has encouraged me in the writing of these books with such boundless imagination, talent, patience, commitment and understanding. I could not ask for a better publisher and editor.

Mich.e.l.le Paver.

London.

end.