The Veil Weavers Page 8

  We headed upriver, north up the long valley back to the otter-people.

  Now that I understood how the veil was woven, I could almost feel it in my hands. I kept flexing my fingers, running my hands up and down imaginary threads, picturing myself being able to pull the broken threads together and reweave them.

  “I need to find a doorway,” I said to Brox.

  Maddy looked up, a flash of hope in her eyes. “You have an idea?”

  I shook my head. “No. I just – I just want to touch the veil again.” My hands twitched. I waved them at Maddy. “Just touch it.”

  She nodded, and let the eagerness fade from her face. “I understand.”

  “There’s a doorway near the bank of the river,” said Brox. “We’ll be there soon.”

  I was content to wait, to ride and be quiet and wait. It felt better than despair, although despair was never far away.

  When we reached the doorway, Maddy and the buffalo stayed near the river, letting me work alone. I breathed in magic, letting it fill me. Then I breathed out, and opened the doorway. There was no tear here, but I could see the veil. I touched it, laying my hands on the soft threads. I could feel the tears, feel the history of the veil, hear the song of the Ancient Ones as they wove themselves into the veil. But I could not repair the tears. I didn’t have the magic for that.

  “Anything?” asked Maddy as I joined her. I shook my head.

  Corvus landed in front of us, holding a piece of paper in his beak. Maddy knelt and took it from him. She unfolded it, choked out a laugh, and handed it to me. Keeper had scrawled in black charcoal, in what looked like a five-year-old’s printing:

  Grfal Grenfol Troll traking you. Bewar.

  “We met him on the trail,” I said, looking back at the Rockwall.

  Maddy shuddered.

  “We’re not afraid of him,” said Brox.

  But I knew Gronvald. Just because they weren’t afraid of him didn’t mean they shouldn’t be.

  We ate a little, Maddy and me from our bags, Brox and Vivienne grazing on the grasses near the river, periodically lifting their great heads to sniff. We ate quickly, watching for Gronvald.

  Vivienne sniffed and froze, her nostrils twitching. Brox joined her, searching for a scent. “Wolves,” Brox muttered.

  Maddy walked to the edge of the water, looking through her ring.

  We heard a howl upriver. We all turned, struggling to see into the forest. When we turned back, we were surrounded by wolves.

  Maddy stood alone, separated by the wolves from the buffalo and me. Three circled her, while the others kept us away. They were huge, seven in all, in shades of grey. Their eyes gleamed yellow as they stared. Maddy moaned in fear.

  Vivienne bellowed and raced towards Maddy. A dark wolf leapt at her, his jaws snapping at her leg. Vivienne kicked him and sent him flying, whimpering. A smaller wolf sprang from behind, clawing Vivienne’s back. Brox roared and attacked, but two wolves closed in on Maddy.

  “No!” I yelled, leaping towards her. A wolf lunged at me, snarling. “We come at the Will of the Gathering,” I gasped. Somehow, as weak and squeaky as that came out, magic rang in my words. He paused, just long enough for me to suck in a larger breath and yell, “We come at the Will of the Gathering.” My voice rang with power.

  The wolves growled and circled, but as we faced them, trying to look strong, the circle eased. They stared at us for a moment longer, and then disappeared into the forest.

  We pushed on up the valley, Vivienne ignoring the deep scratches down her back, Maddy and me shaking, the crows anxious and irritable.

  Vivienne began to sing again, a quiet hummy lullaby. She was starting the second verse when Brox interrupted with a quiet, “Vivienne, dearest.”

  Maddy and I looked up. Brox never interrupted Vivienne’s songs. Even the crows became quiet. Brox tilted his head, listening.

  “What is it?” Maddy asked.

  “Ssh,” he said, standing motionless.

  We all froze and listened, the crows silently circling above us.

  Burble, I heard. Blorp, burble splat.

  Maddy and I stared at each other. “What is it?” she mouthed.

  I shrugged. I had no idea.

  Blorble. Burp.

  “The ochre monster,” said Vivienne, her voice tight. “The ochre monster is waking.”

  I could feel Brox shudder, and I shuddered too. I didn’t want to meet anything he was afraid of.

  “Josh, Maddy, not one word,” said Brox. “Be still. Breathe softly. We want no sounds, no smells, no hint of human. Understand?”

  We both nodded, barely moving our chins.

  The crows broke into small squabbling groups, always between us and the Paint Pots, creating a shield of sound. Brox and Vivienne walked faster than ever. Maddy and I gritted our teeth and hung on.

  We arrived at the otter-people’s camp just before sunset.

  They brought us dinner but I couldn’t eat. Folens was dying. He lay nestled in Maddy’s fur hat, pale and still. I warmed the cave and knelt by him, holding one tiny hand, trying to send him magic. While I worked, I knew that if I couldn’t fix the veil, whatever I did now wouldn’t matter.

  I left Maddy playing quietly with Drenba and Dreylac, and went outside to sit by the fire. Brox and Vivienne joined me, silently watching the flames. Vivienne began to sing, soft and low:

  O come sit by my side if you love me.

  Do not hasten to bid me adieu.

  Just remember the Red River Valley,

  and the one that has loved you so true.

  I stared into the fire, thinking about the veil and magic. Folens and muskberries. The Ancient Ones.

  As I thought about the Ancient Ones and how they gave themselves to create the veil, I realized something. Magic folk talked about me like I was some kind of hero, or should be, but I wasn’t. I was the sacrifice. I had to do what the Ancient Ones did. I had to weave myself into the veil.

  I wondered what I would become if I could repair the veil. Would I be just a shadow of myself, like the weavers were of the Ancient Ones? I sat with my fear until I knew exactly what it looked like. And what to do.

  “Corvus,” I called. “Only the crows can help me now. I need every crow to bring me muskberries. Ask the otter-people, at every camp. Ask anyone who has some. I don’t care if they need them to survive the winter. This is the Will of the Gathering. I need every muskberry that the crows can bring before dawn.”

  Greyfur heard me. She joined me by the fire and handed me a bowl holding a small pile of dried muskberries. “This is all we have. Use them well, hnn.”

  I took them from her knowing that if I failed, Folens would die. That became another fear to push aside.

  I sat holding the bowl, waiting, while Corvus conferred with the crows and they all flew away. When Crowby left, too, I almost called out, “No, not Crowby. She’s too young.” But I stopped myself. This had to be done.

  I knew what this would cost them, in exhaustion and failure and possibly death. With a shock I realized I could feel the crows – not just to empathize with them, but to feel as they felt. I must have been doing it for a while, without realizing it. Right now, I could feel their determination to collect muskberries for me, to save their world, whatever the cost to themselves. I let that determination soak into me.

  Then I mourned – for their sacrifice, for the sacrifice of the Ancient Ones, for my own.

  I waited as the moon rose, adding wood to the fire when it burned low. I waited while the moon crossed the sky, sitting with Greyfur, with Brox and Vivienne nearby. I could feel the crows as they flew and knew exactly when the first would return.

  Greyfur greeted him and handed me the pouch of muskberries he carried. I poured them into the bowl and waited for more.

  All through the night crows arrived, sometimes with a pouch or a clawful of muskberries, sometimes clutching only one. Each was placed in the bowl.

  I sent them all off again, no matter how tired they were. “Ke
ep looking for muskberries – as many as you can bring me by dawn.” I knew the cost of what I was asking, but I couldn’t let that stop me.

  As they returned I could feel their fatigue. Some carried more than one woven pouch or packet made from a folded leaf. They were bringing muskberries collected by crows too exhausted to return.

  An hour before dawn, I began to eat. One at a time, slowly chewing each one, I ate muskberries. The dried berries were dark in the firelight, almost black, shrivelled and sticky. They filled my mouth with flavour, tangy and dark, with a heavy scent. As I ate, I could feel magic. But I didn’t focus on it, didn’t let it build. Not yet. First I had to eat.

  Maddy was up before dawn, worrying. “Are you sure, Josh? This seems so dangerous.”

  “I’m sure,” I said.

  “But...remember what happened to the Ancient Ones.”

  I closed my eyes. “I remember,” I said, a little gruffly.

  “Eneirda and Greyfur didn’t want to eat too many muskberries.”

  “I’m not an otter-person.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re not even magic folk. You’re just a human being. Just a boy, Josh.”

  “Let the boy do what he must,” said Greyfur.

  Maddy sniffed and wiped her eyes, her face pale. I could tell from the way they hovered that Brox and Vivienne were worried, too. But still it had to be done.

  Vivienne snuffled at Maddy, and Maddy leaned into her, glad of the company. When she got restless she examined her cloak, running a hand down its softness, flipping it and watching it settle around her. Then she’d turn back to me, her face tight. Eventually she slept.

  I waited and ate, and waited some more. Just as the sky began to lighten, the last crows arrived, a cluster of exhausted birds flying together. Crowby was the last to stagger in, clutching a single berry. She was embarrassed she only had one, but it was enough.

  I held their muskberries in my hand and slowly ate them, one at a time. Then I stood. I could feel magic pulsing through me.

  I strode over to Maddy and gently woke her. “I’m ready,” I said. Then I turned to the others. “I need a doorway.”

  Maddy rubbed her eyes and slowly stood, untangling her cloak. “A torn one?”

  “No. Any doorway will do.”

  Greyfur conferred with Brox and Vivienne.

  “There is one south along the river, beyond what humans call Marble Canyon,” said Brox.

  Greyfur said, “Doorway at Storm Mountain is closer, hnn.”

  “But more difficult for humans and for Vivienne and me. Beyond Marble Canyon is easier.”

  Greyfur nodded in agreement, and helped us climb onto Brox and Vivienne.

  We walked south along the river once again, watching the sun rise below a low bank of clouds, past a curve of mountain covered in low bushes and scattered rocks. Beyond it a stream tumbled down the mountain.

  “The doorway is beside that stream,” said Brox. “Go quietly. The Paint Pots are nearby.”

  I nodded and turned to climb the bank. I was filled with magic.

  A chorus of cawing stopped me. Aleena was stepping out of the river. When she reached the gravel shore, she shook herself. Water flew off as her long hair and cloak spun around her. When she finished, she was completely dry.

  “Gronvald is coming,” she said as we walked towards each other.

  “What can he do?” asked Maddy. “He’s compelled by the Will of the Gathering.”

  I felt through the magic surrounding me to understand. “Remember when he attacked you in his cave?” I said to Maddy. “He’s compelled to help me, but his anger is so strong it doesn’t protect any of you.” I nodded to the crows, Brox, Vivienne, Aleena and Maddy.

  “He cannot attack you directly,” Brox said, “but he can try to distract you by attacking us.”

  “We’ll take care of him,” said Maddy, looking fierce.

  “No, you stay with me,” I said.

  Maddy shook her head. “This is the one thing I can do, Josh.”

  Reluctantly, I nodded. I walked along the shore until I found a long, thick stick, like a staff. I handed it to Maddy. I knew how small a weapon it was against Gronvald’s power, but I had to give her something. And she wouldn’t be alone.

  She just smiled, a tight, determined smile.

  “Gronvald doesn’t scare us,” said Brox. “We haven’t had a good fight in a long time.” He grinned. It didn’t reassure me.

  “We’ll keep Maddy safe,” said Vivienne.

  And so I walked up the hill to the doorway while Maddy and the others waited for Gronvald.

  Chapter Ten

  In the Veil

  I found the doorway near the bank of the stream, outlined in gold. From there, I had a perfect view of Maddy, the staff held firmly in her right hand. Brox and Vivienne stood to either side, each watching a different direction. Aleena waited in the water, trying to catch Gronvald’s scent, while the crows circled overhead. I could feel their tension, their alertness, their drive to do whatever was necessary to give me time to fix the veil.

  I turned to the doorway and pushed back my cloak. I didn’t need to breathe in magic – I was filled with it. I simply exhaled, and the doorway opened.

  I reached into the veil and ran my hands over the threads. I could feel each one, and when I reached far enough, I could touch torn ends lifting off the face of the veil. But I still didn’t know how to repair them.

  I started to sketch, drawing weaving down my pant leg, vertical lines crossing horizontal lines. I drew a tear, a gash in the veil, threads broken and drifting free. Then I drew them coming together and healing. Somehow drawing the threads became a new kind of drawing. I reached into the veil and touched the threads, and knew I could pull them together and mend them.

  Satisfied, I paused to check on the others. They were all staring to the side, looking confused. The curve of the hill blocked my view just enough to hide whatever worried them. Should I walk over? Step out of the veil to see?

  I closed my eyes for a moment, to think and decide, and found I could see, the entire scene laid out as if I was watching from the air above them: Maddy’s golden head between Brox and Vivienne’s broad backs, Aleena standing in the river, legs braced against the current. They were all staring at the hillside beside them, dotted with rocks.

  As I circled overhead, I watched rocks rise from the ground, growing steadily larger until they were as tall as men. Then, slowly, they transformed into trolls. An army of trolls.

  I let out a squawk and realized I was a crow; at least, I was seeing through crow eyes. I snapped open my own eyes and checked that I was still me, still Josh, standing in the veil.

  The crows were cawing in a raucous frenzy. I remembered the ochre monster and called out to them to be quiet. It was more caw than words, a hoarse croak, but they understood and fell silent.

  When I heard Maddy cry out I shut my eyes, and watched with crow eyes again.

  The trolls were marching down the hillside, deep thumps reverberating with every step. Maddy gasped and backed into Brox. Aleena stepped further back into the water, afraid to be part of the fight. Could I send a crow to her, to beg for her help? I felt their hatred of Aleena wash over me. She had killed a crow, last summer. They would not beg.

  Instead, they spoke to the trolls. In a perfect imitation of Gronvald, a crow said, “Stop.” The trolls turned, and paused.

  “Keep going,” Gronvald yelled.

  The trolls stepped forward again.

  Another crow, behind them, said, “Wait.”

  They turned, searching. Who was speaking? Which troll was Gronvald?

  “Walk!” Gronvald screamed.

  Another crow, far to the right, said, “No,” in Gronvald’s voice.

  Gronvald roared in anger, waved his arms and stepped forward, bellowing, “Now!”

  And they followed him down the hillside, the earth rumbling as they moved, relentlessly descending on Maddy, Brox and Vivienne.

  I could see Maddy s
haking, but she studied them carefully. “They’re not real,” she said, her voice quivering. “They’re shadows, Gronvald’s magic. He made them.” Her voice cracking, she asked, “How do we stop him?”

  “Only sunshine can stop him completely, turning him to stone until he’s been thawed by twelve hours of darkness,” said Brox.

  I looked up. The sky had become totally overcast, solid with low, dark clouds.

  “But Vivienne and I can stop almost anything,” he added.

  Then we heard a new sound, an odd, burbling walk. It didn’t sound like Keeper walking, solid thumps reverberating through the earth. This was huge, but squishy. How could anything be big enough to make that sound?

  Aleena turned deadly white. “We’ve raised the ochre monster.” She sounded stunned.

  Brox and Vivienne gasped, and backed up.

  I saw her before the others could, as she strode up the river valley. She was massive, the largest creature I’d ever seen, twice the height of Keeper. She was huge-shouldered and strong-thighed, and all mud, all drippy ochre-orange mud. It dropped off her as she walked, but it never ran out, and she never got smaller. She just left a trail of orange behind her.

  “She’s the Paint Pots?” asked Maddy.

  “When she’s sleeping,” said Vivienne.

  “How can she hurt us, if she’s only mud?”

  “She could drown us in mud, freeze us in mud.”

  “Why would she do that?” Maddy whispered.

  “She hates humans.”

  I settled back into the veil, reaching for torn ends, trying to learn the tears. And watching. Always watching. I heard a low rumble, a deep burbling voice.

  “What’s she saying?” Maddy asked.

  “Listen carefully,” said Brox.

  As we listened, sounds emerged, burbling words:

  Humans bad.

  Stop humans.

  Humans bad.

  Stop humans.

  “But we’re not bad,” said Maddy. “We’re trying to help. Josh is trying to –”

  “I know,” Brox interrupted. “But we have no way to tell her. She’s like an angry two-year-old.”