‘Last time you did this I’d drunk half a skin of mead first,’ his da hissed, grunting each time Drem pierced flesh and popped through skin.
‘Quiet,’ Drem whispered, wiping fresh blood away and concentrating on his stitching. It was a task he enjoyed, found it fascinating, seeing the flesh pull together. There was something appealing about the regimentation of the stitches, and something wonderful in the fact that this act helped the body to heal itself, that it would allow flesh and skin to grow and knit back together.
When he was done Drem sat back, smiling at his handiwork. His da twisted to inspect it and nodded approvingly.
‘Ever decide you’re done with hunting, you’ll make a fine healer,’ he said. ‘Or maybe a seamstress.’ His lips twisted in a smile.
‘So, what now?’ Drem asked.
‘We could limp home to our cabin,’ Olin said, ‘but what would be the point of that, when we’ve got half a year of trapping sitting back in those foothills?’
‘The point?’ Drem said, raising an eyebrow. ‘I’d imagine it would be avoiding death by giant bear.’
‘Aye.’ His da laughed. ‘And that’s a good point. But that bear should be long gone by now. He’s meal enough in that elk he felled to last him a ten-night. He only chased us because he thought we might be after a bite of his supper.’
There was logic in that, and Drem liked logic. More than that, logic was the cadence by which he walked through life. But the memory of that bear, its claws and teeth, was still vivid in his mind.
‘And we need those pelts to sell, if we don’t want to starve through winter,’ Olin added. ‘We’re not farmers, have no crops to see us through.’
Drem looked up at the foothills and mountains beyond, solid slabs of darkness now as night settled like a shroud about them.
‘Back to the camp it is, then.’ He nodded.
‘With first light,’ Olin said.
They settled about the fire, dressed in their dried-out clothes, but all the time Drem was going over the bear attack in his mind. He’d travelled and lived in the Wild for many years with his da, and he was no stranger to the savagery of the Banished Lands and their bloodthirsty predators. Packs of wolven, blood-sucking bats – once he’d even seen a draig. But never had he come across something that had affected him like that white bear. He’d been frozen with fear. There was respect, too; for the staggering majesty of its power, and for its indomitable will. Any creature that made the wild of the Desolation its home was a force to be reckoned with.
He thought of his da, standing over him as the bear charged.
And my da is not so different from that bear. He is indomitable, too.
‘Thank you,’ Drem whispered.
‘Huh?’ Olin grunted, his back to him. Drem had thought he was asleep.
‘I said, thank you. You saved my life.’
‘Well, I’m your da. It’s my job.’
‘Life and death is no jest,’ Drem muttered.
His da shifted to look at his son, his face deep-lined, all dark grooves and shadow in the flickering firelight.
‘No, you’re right.’ He sat up, pulled his knees up to his chest. ‘The truth of it is, there are not many things I’ve done right in this life. Getting handbound to your mam was one of them. You’re another, Drem; the one good thing I have left. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let anything take you from me. Not without a fight, anyway.’
Drem felt a surge of emotion at his da’s words. They were both practical men, both viewed life logically, rarely given to emotional displays. Neither of them were much for long words or long conversations, and Drem had never heard his da say such things as this to him.
Maybe it’s coming so close to death. We both stared it in the face this morning.
His voice did not cooperate as he tried to speak. He coughed, cleared his throat.
‘I wish I could remember more of Mam,’ he said. ‘If I think hard enough I can see something of her face, her eyes. Her smile. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember her voice.’
The fire crackled between them, the only sound as Olin stared into the flames.
‘Her voice was beautiful,’ he eventually said. ‘Like a river to a parched man. At least, it was to me.’ He smiled to himself. ‘She laughed a lot, cried little. She liked a good jest, did your mam. Ach, she would fall off her chair she laughed so hard.’ He shrugged, finally looking at Drem. ‘She loved you fiercely.’
As I love her.
His memories of his mam were vague and half-formed, like figures in the mist.
Long, dark hair, laughing eyes.
Fractured memories flickered through his mind. A song, hummed in his ear, a tight hug. Another face, a woman, tall, blonde, a stick in her hand, bending down to lift him up. A tower on a hill.
Drem had only been a bairn when his mam died, three or four summers old, but he remembered how she made him feel: a warm glow in his chest, edged with the melancholy of loss.
Safe, and loved, that’s how I feel when I think of her.
‘I hate the Kadoshim,’ Drem growled.
Olin just stared into the flames, his eyes glistening with reflected firelight.
‘Why did she have to die? Why did the Kadoshim kill her?’ Drem said, more to himself than to his da, but Olin looked at him.
‘Because this world is a hard and cruel place,’ Olin breathed. ‘That white bear, nothing else you have ever faced matches the malice that the Kadoshim bear towards us, towards mankind. They are wickedness made flesh.’
Drem thought about that awhile; the silence grew between them.
Kadoshim and Ben-Elim, ancient enemies waging their eternal war against each other.
An ember crackled and popped on the fire.
‘If it was the Kadoshim that murdered my mam,’ he eventually said, ‘why is it that you hate the Ben-Elim so much, when they hunt the Kadoshim?’
‘Aye, I suppose it would not make sense to you.’ He scowled into the darkness. ‘I do not like to talk of these things, have tried for years now to leave them behind, to carve a life for us free of their stain and influence. Talking about it only digs up the hurt that I’ve spent a long time burying.’ Olin sighed. ‘But, always the questions.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘So. An answer for you, and then maybe you’ll give me some peace. The Ben-Elim do hunt the Kadoshim, are their ancient enemies. But it was the Ben-Elim who plotted and schemed for the Kadoshim to enter these Banished Lands in the first place. The Ben-Elim used the Kadoshim to open a portal between the Otherworld and the world of flesh, and then the Ben-Elim followed them through, their spirit-bodies becoming flesh in the process, just like the Kadoshim.’
Drem frowned at that. ‘Why? Why did the Ben-Elim do that?’
‘They had their reasons,’ his da said, ‘the telling of which I do not have the time or the inclination for. Just trust me on this. The Ben-Elim are not our friends or allies because they hunt the Kadoshim. The Kadoshim would not be here in the first place if not for the Ben-Elim.’
‘But—’
‘Ach.’ His da spat. ‘Answer this, then. The bear and the wolven, they both hunt the elk, do they not?’
‘Aye, they do.’