Chapter 18
The escape and release were not lasting. Almost the moment Sylviana stopped speaking, he felt the cold dread of what he must do return from its small distance. He must leave this safe place and hunt. And though under present circumstances the odds against him were appalling, he knew he had to try. If the reserves of salted meat were tapped too soon, the sebreum not rationed, they would all starve in the cold heart of Winter. Trust, and wishing it otherwise, could not alter the fact.
'I must go,' he told her. 'Keep the door shut and bolted until
I return. This is a dangerous time.'
'Why? I thought most of the predators were gone.'
'There are always stragglers, and outcasts. They do well for a time, but with the coming of deep snow find they cannot hunt, or even retreat. Near starvation makes them desperate, and they will attack almost anything.' These words, along with the anxious body language she had learned to read in him—-taut expression and deep, determined breathing—-frightened her.
'Be careful.'
'Of course. I will take Kamela, if she will come.' He put on his heavy winter robe of buffalo skin, buckled the sword around it, and went to the door.
Kamela rose to follow, but Akar limped down from his place beside the altar and tried to interpose his body between her and the way she wished to go. Words passed between them which could not be understood by the others. Kalus saw only that Akar sensed some danger, to Kamela in particular, and did not wish them to go. But the she-wolf growled sullenly and pushed past him. Akar, who knew her thoughts, relented.
'You leave love behind you,' he said solemnly, and returned to his place. Her eyes followed him, and she looked to the sleeping form of the pup. Then turned away almost sorrowfully. She had felt love even then, and it was more than she could bear.
Kalus could not at first open the door. After several frustrated attempts he set down his sword, threw off the fur and angrily set to work. He pushed, pulled back, cursed and set his full weight against it.
At last the snow and icy jambs relented, and they went out into the windy sea of powder. They passed through the gorge, and out onto the table-like plain.
*
Kamela could not block the images from her mind; they rose in their full intensity before her. The death of Shaezar, whom she had learned to love. The brutal rape by Shar-hai and his guard. Then the murder of her two sons, too small even to understand what was happening. A line of horror had been crossed inside her, from which there was no returning.
They struggled together through the snow, these two whom life had wounded, the wolf mortally, the man to within the balance of a hair, though he still had hope. Kalus, knowing her pain, cut the best swath he could, and Kamela followed behind him. The wind had distributed the snow unevenly, so that in some places movement was relatively easy, in others, nearly impossible. The thick overcast of the sky threatened further storm, and the white of the accumulated snow could not fully illuminate the darkened landscape.
They traveled north where Kalus hoped, though his heart was sickened by it, to find a frozen deer among the outlying forests. They really had no other chance. The plains animals were gone, live deer were too swift, and no rabbit or fox would be stirring in the extreme cold of this day.
So he trudged northward, chilled and sweating, using strength his body did not have to give. His stomach felt hollow and sickly; his muscles trembled with fatigue. But he knew (or thought) the alternative was despair, and his mind was not clear enough to perceive the danger. So he continued.
And as he pushed on, farther and farther beyond the limits of endurance, it was as if he passed through a veil and walked, literally, into another world. Time and distance became confused. . .and still on his feet he dreamed of straggling columns of men, plodding through a frozen countryside. Ragged blue uniforms clung to their backs, to his. Wounded and sick, with helpless eyes searching both sides of the road, fearful of ambush. A comrade addressed him in French…..
He stumbled forward in the snow, recovered himself. The world was quiet and deathly still. Kamela stood beside him, tense and erect, ears raised and eyes searching. They had wandered into a recession between wooded hills, where the snow was thick and visibility difficult. A pine branch released its burden of white, and suddenly he felt it too. They were being watched. He had led them into an ambush…..
A dark shape flitted between trees on the eastern slope. A low, impatient growling was heard. Kalus drew his sword to make a stand, but Kamela would not let him. She bolted toward the slope even as a rush of movement erupted there. Two thin and ravening wolves, along with three hyenas, broke from cover and began to converge upon the line she made, straight for them.
Her motive was simple. Her own life meant nothing, and the man-child need not die. Also, there was the chance for revenge. She ran toward death free and unafraid.
Kalus hesitated, unsure of enemies behind, and by the time he turned and made up his mind to follow, it was too late. They were upon her, harrying and tearing in a scene made horrible and slow-motion by the snow. Yet somehow she snarled free and lunged at one of the wolves, who had stumbled. The others tore into her side and back legs, but her teeth had found their mark, and her last desire was fulfilled. The brutal Armus, black wolf of Shar-hai's guard, fell gasping and bleeding, his throat cut. As Kamela surrendered willingly to death.
She was gone, and Kalus knew it, and the worst part was that his mind had already begun to accept it. Raging at his weakness and cowardice, he rushed toward the scene of her bloody debauch.
But for all his reckless will and hatred, his body simply would not respond. He had not gone twenty paces before his heart and lungs screamed in revolt, and all strength left him. At the same moment the hyenas left their kill and savagely blocked his path. Their bristling, snarling warnings said as clearly as words. 'Be gone, or we will kill you, too.'
And as he stood helpless, mustering all his courage just to stand and look imposing, the remaining wolf rushed past them and would have attacked. But the others would not follow, and he was reluctant to face Kalus' sword alone. By her final act of defiance, Kamela had saved his life.
The hyenas returned to the still body of the she-wolf, and bickering among themselves, began to drag it back into the forest. The companion of Armus stood for a time beside him, as if expecting him to somehow shake off the stroke and rise again. But soon he saw that the wound was mortal, and knew his own life was in danger if he stayed. The hyenas would turn on him next, and he had no illusions about what would happen to the body of his friend. He turned to the northwest, and disappeared beneath the silently whispering pines.
Kalus was left alone with the dying wolf. And as he watched its terrified eyes grow dull slowly like a fire that had burned itself to nothing, he felt he watched his own death as well. He had failed again, miserably, and felt all chance for survival, and the will to continue, evaporate. He fell to his knees in exhaustion, and heard the lone wolf at its distance release a long howl of despair. Night fell, and darkness was all around him.
*
Walking back alone was perhaps the hardest thing he had ever had to do. In his darkened state he felt he had no reason to live, but some stubborn and unvanquished voice told him he must return. Weak and trembling, genuinely ill, he had no other goal but to reach the cave and collapse. Digging deep, time and time again, he searched for the will to go on, just a little farther, holding the image of the girl like an icon and a Quest before him. Many times he stumbled, and had to rouse himself to keep from lying down to sleep, and die, in the snow. So weak and pathetic had his movement become that two jackals thought to attack him, and had to be driven back, though they followed the rest of the way.
At long, impossible length he reached the gorge path and slithered down. Upon reaching its base he could not at first rouse himself to continue. A great wall of despairing fatigue seemed to stand before him, on top of him, and in his bones, an impenetrable 'No' formed of unendurable stone. He was tired, and the weight was too much.
His one desire at that moment was to sleep and say goodbye. Just sleep. Sylviana would understand. After all, she still had Akar. Together they could fly with Skither to the Island, and all would be well. And he smiled, because Skither was not dead. That was only a dream. Together they rode on his wings, above the parting clouds…..
Through the delirium he heard a confused sound of high yapping barks and deeper, more terrible growls. Then he felt a tugging at his shoulder and finally, the cutting of teeth. He jerked forward in dismay, expecting to be assailed.
But the call to life had come from Akar, who stood guarding him quietly in the darkness, stood waiting for him to revive, stand, and make the final effort. Kalus raised himself slowly, let out a groan of pain and loss, then followed him up the merciless incline.
At length a door was opened in front of him and a feverish light streamed out. He fell forward. Perhaps someone caught him; perhaps they did not.
He knew nothing more.