Firebird

By Rebecca Shelley

Young Aedus of the Nanuk Clan knows nothing of the war between the spirits or the Firebird. Aedus wants only to prove himself a man in the Great Hunt. But when the battling spirits threaten to destroy his clan, he risks everything—not just his life, but his very humanity—to save his people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Shelley
• Release date: Jul 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386967071

Rebecca Shelley

Rebecca Shelley writes a wide variety of books—everything from picture books to spy thrillers.She especially likes to write about fantasy creatures such as dragons and fairies.Her children’s books are written under the Rebecca Shelley name.Her thrillers and other books for adults are written under the R. L. Tyler pen name.She also has two books out under the R. D. Henham pen name—Red Dragon Codex and Brass Dragon Codex.

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Firebird

Copyright © 2012 Rebecca Shelley

Published by Wonder Realms Books

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission. All characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover art © Dusan Kostic | Dreamstime.com

Interior art © Irina Shishkina | Dreamstime.com

Chapter One

Aedus ran his finger along the sharp spearhead. He'd taken countless hours to chip the hard stone into a weapon to kill a mighty pagnnig, the bull caribou. The pagnnig meant life to the Nanuk Clan—the hide for clothing and shelter, the meat for food, the antlers for tools, weapons, and toys. Aedus shook his head. No more toys. Not for him. He had almost reached his fifteen turning of the seasons. His birthing day waited only seven days ahead.

He gripped the spear hard and grinned at his friend, Leith. The thunder of the caribou herd rumbled in the distance as it moved south.

Leith's face wrinkled into a grimace. You know your father won't let us come.

We're old enough. Aedus stamped the butt of his spear on the ground, kicking up a spray of brown lichen. A cold wind whipped around him but couldn't penetrate his soft hide shirt. Only a few wisps of white clouds broke the endless blue sky above, but darker clouds loomed on the horizon.

Leith sniffed. Smells like rain. He checked his bow, and made sure his quiver of arrows sat securely on his back. He'd tied his long black hair in a knot at the back of his head for hunting.

Aedus fingered his own hair knot and hoped it would make him look old enough. This would be the last Great Hunt before the clan moved south to the warm lands for the season. If his father wouldn't let him come now, Aedus wouldn't get a chance for a Great Hunt until next summer season.

He had his own bow and arrows with him, but the clan preferred to use spears against pagnnig. Aedus and Leith had spent all summer fashioning theirs.

Aedus stepped to the top of the low mound they'd been waiting near. From there he could see his father's topek, set up in a circle with the rest of the clan's. The movable shelters were built with long poles, creating a squat rectangular building covered with painted skins. The back sides of the topeks were shorter, so the near-constant wind would go over the structure instead of tearing it apart. The red, orange, and yellow designs painted on the topeks, stood out against the gray hides. Aedus knew each swirling symbol by heart. They were the wards that kept their family safe from the mischievous spirits that lived on the tundra.

Twelve topeks made up the camp, with several shaggy dogs next to each. The clan's domestic caribou, the life-giving tuntus, grazed in the center.

Torin, Aedus's father and clan chief, pulled the doorflap back and stepped out of the topek. Enid, Aedus's little sister, followed, tugging on Torin's pants.

Aedus couldn't hear what she said, but he knew anyway. Ever since their mother had died while fishing beside the Edgerock River a few months before, Enid had been afraid to let any of the family leave the topek.

Twisting around, Torin peeled her off him and gently shook her. Enid lowered her head and went back into the shelter.

Farris, Aedus's older brother came out a second later, carrying four spears, his two and his father's. The rest of the clan hunters gathered around them.

Enid's going to be trouble, Leith said.

Give her time. Aedus watched the men and older boys leave the shelters and head toward them. The dogs filled the air with ringing barks of excitement and followed the hunters.

I need time too, Aedus thought. It was bad enough that Enid was so young Aedus had to take over most of his mother's duties instead of hunting for hares with the other boys. Somehow tanning the hides and cooking the meals served to worsen the angry wound in his soul created by his mother's death.

Every time he pulled a pot off the fire, he pictured her firm hands doing it. Every time he tucked Enid into the hides to sleep, he remembered his mother's face leaning over him, doing the same thing.

I'm a man, he told himself, slamming the butt of his spear down again. I'm a hunter. I will not cry for her.

Ho, Farris reached the mound first and rubbed the top of Aedus's head. There's the little hunter.

We're going with you, Aedus said just as his father and the other hunters caught up with Farris.

Torin grimaced and looked back toward the shelter where he'd left Enid.

She's fine, Aedus said, before his father could speak.

I don't doubt it. Torin took his spears from Farris. There are other women in camp to look after her.

So we can go? Excitement flared inside Aedus.

Torin pressed his lips together and shook his head. Next summer season.

Before Aedus could protest, Torin strode off toward the caribou herd, motioning for the others to follow.

Farris put his hand on Aedus's shoulder. Go shoot some squirrels and hares. I know you haven't had much chance to do that recently. You're a good hunter. I know you'll come back with something.

Farris walked away, his long strides easily catching him up with the others.

Leith's dog, Red, sat down at Leith's feet, whining and pawing the ground. Leith ordered him back to the camp and then grinned at Aedus. Told you they wouldn't let us go, he said, setting off across the series of low mounds in the opposite direction. Come on. I know a great place to hunt.

Pushing down his anger and frustration, Aedus lifted his spear and followed. No sense in taking the spear to hunt hares, but Leith hadn't bothered to take his back to the camp either. Maybe they could at least practice with them.

Rocks crunched beneath Aedus's feet as he strode through the clusters of grass and sedge.

There, Leith pointed to where a group of low shrubs stretched up the hillside.

Aedus stuck his spear through the tight leather strap across his back and pulled his bow free. He selected his favorite arrow from the ten he carried in his birchbark quiver.

Leith's eyes sparkled as he motioned for Aedus to split away from him and move into the brush slow and easy.

Aedus made sure he was well away from Leith. Muscles tense, he eased into the bushes, thoughts of caribou pushed to the back of his mind by the excitement of hunting the crafty hares. Caribou had no fear of the clansmen. They'd walk right up to a hunter that got in their path.

Hares were different. Their sleek blue-gray bodies made them almost impossible to see against the rocks and grasses. They could sit without moving for hours on end. If you startled them, they'd speed away, making a hit with an arrow impossible. Aedus knew how to set several traps for catching the hares, but today he wanted to hunt.

He crept into the brush, careful to keep his caribou-skin boots quiet against the flinty rocks and dead twigs. The bushes rose up to his chest, their leaves shivering in the wind. Low pines prickled the back of his hands. He froze, making his breath slow and even, savoring the thought of sizzling hare roasted over the fire for dinner.

Remaining still, he scanned the ground around him—rocks, gold and red lichen, light green moss, tall brown grass, branches of leaves and pine needles. A ground squirrel poked its head out of a hole. Its eyes blinked and nose twitched.

Aedus ignored it. Squirrel meat didn't taste half as good as hare. It vanished back into its hole.

A little to the left of the squirrel hole, Aedus noticed a small tuft of white, tucked in the thick bushes. He put his arrow on the string and eased it back bit by bit. He could see no part of the rest of the hare beyond the little white tale, but knew it had to be there, hiding.

He loosed the arrow into the leaves above the white tuft. The hare jumped out of the brush and shot off.

Aedus shook his head and parted the bush in search of his arrow. The hours it took to fashion each shaft and head made him unhappy if he ever lost them. There it was, sticking up from the ground at the base of the bush. When he pulled it out, he noticed a tuft of hair stuck to the side of the arrowhead. Close, he muttered. Pretty good for not being able to see the target.

Up the hill to the far right, he heard Leith's bow twang. A hare jumped away, pierced by Leith's arrow. It only made it a few hops before slumping to the ground.

Leith held it up in triumph.

Aedus waved in response and turned away before allowing himself a jealous frown. The cold wind grew stronger, and thick gray clouds forced the wispy ones out of the sky.

Aedus crept farther up the hill and then stopped again. His heart beat hard. He was son of the clan leader. He couldn't let Leith take more kills than him. Again he waited, searching the brush for a tail, an eye, the flick of an ear, any sign of the wily hares.

Finally he saw it, there hunching in the wind-whipped grass. Aedus drew the bow back. A clear shot. He couldn't miss.

CAW! a raven's gravelly voice split the air.

Aedus jumped. The arrow flew from his bow and hit the hare in the front shoulder. It leaped away, taking Aedus's arrow with it over the brow of the hill.

Aedus dropped his bow and whirled to face the raven. It sat at the top of a bush, its feathers ruffled, head cocked to one side so its beady black eye could glare at Aedus. Aedus's throat constricted with fear, and he circled his hand in front of him in the complex ward that would keep the raven from tearing out his spirit and feasting on it.

He took a step back. He'd heard the ravens screaming on the day his mother slid from the riverbank, smashing her head against a rock before hitting the water. She must have had her hands full with washing and not made the wards in time. The ravens took her spirit, and her body perished.

The raven screamed again.

Aedus threw up another ward, grabbed his bow, and ran up and over the hill, following the hare. He found it crumpled up at the base of a boulder halfway down the other side. Kneeling, he eased the arrow out of its body and spoke the familiar litany, thanking it for giving its life to him.

Leith trotted down the hill to his side. You all right?

Yes. Aedus lifted the hare for Leith to see and hoped his friend wouldn't notice how his hands shook. A true man would not fear the ravens, as least as long as he could make the wards.

Leith stroked Aedus's hare. It's a big one. He held his own prize up next to it. Leith's hare was almost a third smaller. Your father will be proud.

My father won't even notice a single hare. We'll have it long since eaten before the hunters return, and when they do we'll be busy skinning the caribou, tanning the hides, and curing the meat. He won't even ask how our hunt went.

Aedus tied a thong around the hare's back legs, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to go. As he did, he noticed a lump of gray in the valley below.

Look. He leaned across the boulder and pointed.

Leith followed his gaze to where a norraq, a baby caribou, grazed beside his mother, a julanak caribou with a large spread of antlers. They've fallen behind the rest of the herd, Leith said. I wonder why.

I know why, Aedus said, slinging his bow over his shoulder and pulling his spear free from the strap on his back. They have chosen to feed our clan on its trip to the warm lands.

Aedus headed down the hill, but Leith ran after him and grabbed his arm. Your father said we can't hunt the caribou until next summer season.

Torin isn't here. Besides, I'm sure he'd say this is all right. There are only two of them. It's not like we could be trampled by the herd or attacked by a pagnnig.

Julanak with young can be even more dangerous than the pagnnig. Let's go back to the other side of the hill and shoot some more hares. Leith tugged on Aedus's arm.

Aedus took a step to follow him, and then looked back over his shoulder. The julanak raised her head and stared at him. A fire lit in Aedus's gut, and he tore free from his friend. The julanak has come to us. It might anger the spirits if we don't at least try to accept their gift.

Gripping his spear, Aedus headed back toward the valley and the caribou that grazed there.

Chapter Two

Wind whipped around Aedus as he eased into the valley. He maneuvered through the low bush so that the julanak wouldn't catch his scent. The wind brought him the julanak's musty odor along with the strong smell of rain. The shaft of his spear was smooth against his palm as he moved one step at a time toward the mother and calf.

Leith came down beside him with a worried frown on his face. He had his own spear out and his eyes riveted on the two caribou. The julanak was large, with silver hair on her back and sides and dark brown across her stomach. A shock of pure white hair graced her chest. A dangerous rack of antlers graced her head.

The norraq had obviously been born in early spring and this late in the season had almost grown as big as its mother, though not nearly as large as it would be as a full grown pagnnig. Despite that it stayed close to its mother's side. Aedus needed them to fan out a bit to get