Tales of Wind and Fire: Giver

Chapter 16

The female human was whimpering and waving her forepaws, so Mystigan left her and hurtled down the track. When he smelt StrangeSpirit among the willows, he began to whimper too. His Spirit-Brother was slumped over a log, half in the water. He smelt strongly of blood, and wasn't moving at all. Mystigan licked his cold cheek, but StrangeSpirit didn't stir. Was he dead? Mystigan put up his muzzle and howled. A clumsy crashing announced the female human. Mystigan leapt to defend his Spirit-Brother, but she pushed him away, hooked her forepaw under StrangeSpirit's shoulders, and hauled him out of the river.
Despite himself, Mystigan was impressed.
He watched as she put her forepaws on StrangeSpirit's chest and pressed hard. She also kissed his muzzle for some reason. StrangeSpirit began to cough! StrangeSpirit had breath again!
But just as Mystigan was jumping onto his Spirit-Brother to snuffle his muzzle, he was batted away again! Heedless of Mystigan's warning growls, the female pulled StrangeSpirit to his legs and they staggered up the bank. StrangeSpirit kept blundering into hazel bushes, as if he couldn't see.
Watchfully, Mystigan walked beside them, relaxing a little when they reached a Den a good distant from the river: a proper den, not a small, airless one.
Still the female wouldn't let Mystigan near his Spirit-Brother. Snarling, Mystigan slammed her with his body. Instead of moving away, she picked up a stick and threw it out of the Den, pointing at it and then at Mystigan.
Mystigan ignored her and turned back to StrangeSpirit, who was trying to tug off his pelt. Finally, StrangeSpirit had only the yellow fur on his head left. He lay curled on his side with his eyes shut, shaking with cold. His poor furless underpelt was no use at all.
Mystigan leant against him to warm him up, while the female human quickly brought to life the Bright-Breath-That-Bites-Hot. StrangeSpirit moved closer to the warmth, and Mystigan watched anxiously in case he got his paws bitten.
That was when Mystigan noticed that one of StrangeSpirit's forepaws held something that was giving off a strange glow. Mystigan smelt at it—and backed away. It smelt of hunter and Prey and water and tree, all chewed up together; and from it came a high, thin humming: so high that Mystigan could only just catch it.
Mystigan was frightened. He knew that he was in the presence of something very, very strong.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Bennu huddled in his sleeping-sack, shivering uncontrollably. His head was on fire and his whole body felt like one big bruise, but worst of all, he couldn't see. Blind, blind, thudded his heart.
Above the crackle of the fire he heard Cybil muttering angrily. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?"
"What?" He said, but it came out as a mumble, because his mouth was thick with the salty sweetness of blood.
"You'd nearly reached the surface," said Cybil, pressing what felt like cobwebs to his forehead, "then you turned round and swam, deliberately swam, back down again!"
He realized that she didn't know about the piece of the world-soul. But his fist was so cold that he couldn't unclench it to show her.
He felt Mystigan's hot tongue on his face. A chink of light appeared. Then a big black nose. Bennu's spirits soared. "I cad thee!" He said.
"What?" Snapped Cybil. "Well of course you can see! You cut your forehead when you hit that branch, and the blood got in your eyes. Scalp wounds bleed a lot. Didn't you know that?"
Bennu was so relieved that he would have laughed if his teeth hadn't been chattering so violently.
He saw they were in a small cave with earth walls. A birchwood fire was burning fiercely, and already his sodden clothes, hanging from the tree roots jutting through the ceiling, were beginning to steam. The thunder of the falls was loud, and from its sound, and the view of treetops at the cave mount, he guessed they must be some way up the side of the valley. He couldn't remember getting there. Cybil must have dragged him. He wondered how she'd managed it.
She was kneeling beside him looking shaken. "You've been very, very lucky," she said. "Now hold still." From her medicine pouch she took some dried yarrow leaves, and crumbled them in her palm. Then, having picked off the cobwebs, she pressed the yarrow leaves to his forehead. They stuck tight to the wound in an instant scab.
Bennu shut his eyes and listened to the never-ending fury of the falls. Mystigan crawled into the sleeping sack with him, wriggling till he got comfortable. He felt gloriously furry and warm as he licked Bennu's shoulder.

When he woke, he wasn't shivering any more, and he was still clutching the world-soul. He could feel its weight in his fist.
Mystigan was nosing about in the back of the cave, and Cybil was sorting out herbs on her lap. Bennu's pack, boots and shuriken were neatly piled behind her. He realized that to retrieve them she must have crossed the river again. Twice.
"Cybil," he said.
"What," she said without looking up. From her tone, he could tell that she was still cross.
"You got me out of the river. You got me all the way up here. You even fetched my things. I can't imagine. . . I mean, that was brave."
She did not reply.
"Cybil," he said again.
"What."
"I had to swim down. I had to."
"Why?"
Awkwardly, he brought out the hand that held the piece of the World-Soul, and unclenched his fingers.
As soon as he did, the fire seemed to sink. Shadows leapt on the cave walls. The air seemed to crackle, like the moment after a lightning strike.
Mystigan stopped nosing and gave a warning grunt. Cybil went very still.
The river eyes lay in Bennu's palm in a nest of green mud, glowing faintly, like the moon on a misty night.
As he gazed at them, Bennu felt an echo of the sickness that had tugged at him at the bottom of the river. "This is it, isn't it?" He said. "One of crystal clear flow must mean the river. I'm guessing this is the river's heart, meaning we completed a part of the riddle."
The color had drained from Cybil's face. "Don't—move," she said, and scrambled out of the cave, returning soon after with a bunch of scarlet rowan leaves.
"Lucky there's mud on your hand," she said. "You mustn't let it touch your skin. It might suck out part of your soul."
"Is that what was happening?" He murmured. "In the river I was beginning to feel—dizzy." He told her about the Faceless-ones.
She looked horrified. "How did you dare? If they'd caught you. . ." She made the sign of the hand to ward off evil. "I can't believe you've just been sleeping with it in your fist. There's no time to lose."
Bringing out a little black pouch from inside her jerkin, she stuffed it with the rowan leaves. "The leaves should protect us," she said, "and the pouch should help too, it's ravenskin." Grasping Bennu's wrist, she tipped the river eyes into the pouch and drew the neck tight.
As soon as the World-soul was hidden, the flames grew, and the shadows shrank. The air in the cave stopped crackling. Bennu felt as if weight had been taken from him. He watched Mystigan pad over and lie down beside Cybil with his muzzle between his paws, gazing at the pouch on her lap, and whining softly.
"D'you think he can smell it?" She asked.
"Or maybe hear it," said Bennu. "I don't know."
Cybil shivered. "Just as long as nothing else can, too. . ."