The Touch of Bark, the Feel of Stone

By R. I. Miller

The Touch of Bark, the Feel of Stone

Racken has never been to the ends of the earth. He cannot speak to reindeer, he cannot fly like a bird, and he has never seen the all-mother, nor does he want to.

Racken lives in the time beforebefore the vast forests of Great Britain were chopped down, a time when people gathered roots and berries and hunted and fished in a land where aurochs, wolves, and deer roamed and huge flocks of birds clouded the sky. It was a time before people wrote, a time before his people raised sheep or cows. It was a time when Indo-European tribes began to arrive.

Rackens tribe was one of the old tribes, and the old tribes began to fear what they saw happening: why were there fewer deer and the fish that filled the streams were not as plentiful, and why had the weather changed? Why, indeed, were there so many mysteries, and more importantly, who were these people who came over the water to settle in the land of the people?

At the age of thirteen, Rackens only concern was to become a hunter for his tribe, like his father was; but all that changes when an odd band of men come to Rackens village. And to his surprise, his mother apprentices him to their leader, Mathen. It is with these men that Racken learns the depths of friendship and fear, hate and trust, love and loss. He is on a long journey that brings him to the very edge of life, and the vision he brings back challenges him and his tribe. On this journey, begun with great reluctance, Racken learns and becomes much more than he had ever imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 12, 2008
• ISBN: 9781465327772

R. I. Miller

R. I. Miller was born and raised in Massachusetts. In college he wrote for and was chief editor for an independent college paper. After college he traveled, worked, and wrote fiction when he could. He feels that “of all the things that writing demands, time is the most important: time simply to write, to develop, to lose yourself, to find yourself, and to continue. I think the fabric of life and time is made of more than human beings can digest. Trying to digest it all in spite of our limitations is what my writing is about.”

Book preview

Prologue

Beginnings

I f you would listen to me this once, Racken!

It’s the same old thing, Mom, none of it works. There’s nothing in it.

You’ll believe me this time. I can see it in the roots, in the smoke as it rises from the fire, in way the jackdaws fly. It’s everywhere! Something great is about to happen, and when it does, you’ll learn the power of the old ways.

I haven’t learned much from Osmo. All he taught me was how to feel useless. Raila, my mother, did not like my saying this, but it was true. Osmo was our tribe’s spirit speaker, and he had little patience with me.

My sister, Kaytin, who is older than I am, must have overheard us arguing because she came in the hut, grabbed me by the arm, and said, I think Racken and I will gather some roots. My mother sighed, then nodded.

I was glad to be away from my mother; we always had the same old arguments. Her potions and chants did not work unless it was to heal the sick, and that was the only time they ever worked.

I was tired of thinking about her potions. I just wanted to hunt. For that, all you needed were the animal spirits for guidance.

I was watching the ground as Kaytin and I walked into the woods.

You are so moody, Racken.

Why do you say that? I asked, finally looking over at her.

Because you’re always arguing with Mother about the signs she sees. She has been a good healer for our tribe.

I know she has been a good healer! It is not her healing. It’s her visions that don’t work. And on top of it, she thinks I can become a spirit speaker, but I don’t. And anyway, I want to be a hunter like Father was.

You’ve been worse ever since Mother started talking about the new vision she has had.

I was silent; whatever I said now would lead to more argument. My mother was always seeing something, and she was often wrong; things never worked out as she predicted. What my mother saw she saw in a trance or by noticing how birds flew or by examining certain roots that she specially prepared. Sometimes I saw things too, but only in my dreams. And what I saw in my dreams bothered me.

For the last few days, I had the most fearful dreams. I woke up from them shaking with fear. All I could remember of them was that I was very cold and that fur covered my body. They were all the same dream, except for last night’s dream. I wanted to tell Kaytin, but I knew she would tell me to ask my mother or Osmo what my dreams meant. I had given up telling my mother about my dreams because she made them bigger than they were, and what she said about them never came true, and telling Osmo about them was to risk being made fool of. My dreams were things I did not want to think about.

What are you thinking, Racken?

Nothing, I said.

You never say what is on your mind. Sometimes I think that you see things that I cannot see. I think what you see makes you worry.

I see what you see, I said. I did not like her thinking me different, but I lied. And last night’s dream was the worst. I hated it. In it I saw the outline of a man, as though he were standing between me and the sun. His eyes seemed to burn into me, and he wouldn’t stop looking at me. I shook my head at the thought.

Why are you shaking your head?

This ‘thing’ that Mother has been talking about may not be good after all.

How do you know?

It’s just something I know, like when Mother begged Osmo to take me as an apprentice, she thought it was a good idea.

So did the other elders!

Yes, but as you see, it hasn’t worked out.

Because you are as stubborn as Osmo… Oh, I know he is a hard man to work with, and he has his ugly ways, but… you could have tried more.

We were in a hollow. It was as good a spot as any to find the roots we sought, and it gave us something else to talk about. The ground was soft and a little mushy in places, and we dug and dug. I picked up a handful of mud, rolled it in a ball, and threw it at Kaytin. It hit her on the shoulder. Oh, you… ! She ran over to me and rubbed her muddy hands on my face; we laughed and started digging for roots again.

When Kaytin and I were done, we returned to the village. We were busy putting the roots in a large basket in the longhouse when we heard some children shouting, Men are coming! Look! Look!

We went outside and saw a group of strangers; people were gathering around them. One of them looked no older than I was, and his skin was the color of chestnut. I had never seen anyone with skin like that, and neither had anyone in my tribe. The children gathered around him and stared at him, talking to one another all the while. But the man who caught my attention most was the man with graying hair and a beard. He seemed to see me the moment I stepped out of the longhouse though he was some distance from me and there were people between us. Several of the elders, including my mother, were talking to him. She was as cheerful as a songbird.

Who is he? Kaytin asked me.

A bad omen.

What do you mean?

Something about him, I don’t know.

But I did know. He was the man I’d seen in my dream.

Chapter 1

Why?

I was ahead of everyone else, so I stopped.

A sudden wind whipped the dirt covering the path into a furious spiral that forced its way into my mouth and eyes. I spit out the dirt and rubbed my eyes, then grabbed my leather water pouch and washed my mouth out, spitting the final bits of grit into the bushes by the path.

The warm wind was like breath exhaled from the sea, and for once, clouds didn’t cover the sun. It was nearly midday; we had been walking since first light. I had gotten up before everyone, overjoyed to see that no clouds covered the moon. Only the tiniest sliver was left of her. She was going back into darkness. I asked that she give me guidance.

I heard voices and the rustling of leaves. The others had caught up with me. Taking another drink of water, I stepped off the path and let them pass.

Mathen walked by without so much as a nod. Neil came next, he smiled, then Yabal, who was always teasing me and whose dark chestnut-colored skin so surprised me when I first met him, walked by pretending not to notice me. Then came Fallo, Garn, and Daran pulling the skids that carried food, supplies for our journey, and skins for shelter and to warm us in the chill night.

The skids were made of two long straight branches tied together at one end. The loose ends dragged on the ground. In the middle of the long branches, we tied crosspieces to make a platform to tie the supplies to.

Thaypen was the last to go by. He stopped just a little beyond me. He was a big man, but his back was hunched so that his head looked as though it came out of his chest rather than from between his shoulders.

Thaypen adjusted the deerskin sack on his back. He studied my torn leather footwear and my dirty woolen cloak. Then he looked at my dirt-covered face. He snarled, spit in my direction, and walked on. I knew he didn’t want me to be on this journey, getting in the way, upsetting his plans. If he would have listened, I’d have told him that I didn’t want to be here either. I wanted nothing more than to be back with my tribe.

He looked back over his shoulder and said, Don’t hold us up.

Mathen wants me with him! I shouted. I wanted to make Thaypen see that Mathen thought I had worth. And whether anyone else thought so or not, I knew I had merit, so I added, I carry my own weight!

And small that weight is too, of no use in real danger. Don’t try my patience, boy! You’re no use to us.

I got back on the path and carried the goatskin sack strapped to my back as effortlessly as I could. It was heavy. Boy indeed! He’d be singing a different tune if my father were here. But of course, he wasn’t. He wasn’t anywhere.

I walked on, passing the large shrubs that grew on either side of the path, down a bank covered with large trees, and splashed through a small brook that ran across the path. The leaves hid the sun, and the brook was cool and refreshing.

I took another drink of water. Before I could do much more than swallow, I saw Yabal’s brown body running down the path toward me. I didn’t want to see him. I wasn’t in any mood for his teasing. I don’t think he was older than I was, but he was taller. When I first met him, I didn’t know what to make of him; he was nearly the color of a chestnut. And now, he didn’t seem strange at all.

Here you are, hiding! You can’t hide from Mathen. He knows everything, Yabal said, smiling and shaking one finger at me while his other hand rested on his hip. His long and very curly dark hair did not quite touch his shoulders. He was enjoying himself. Then in a serious voice, he said, You have made the mighty hunter Thaypen angry by keeping us from his precious gathering! Yabal stopped and stood facing me with the same stern and loathsome look that Thaypen gave me, but on Yabal it looked ridiculous. I didn’t want to laugh, but I did.

I made you laugh! I didn’t think you ever laughed. Mathen will be pleased.

Don’t tell him, I said.

Why?

Just don’t.

It doesn’t matter, Mathen knows already, or soon will.

Take off, dung beetle! I was sick of hearing about Mathen’s power to understand what was happening before anyone told him.

Yabal laughed. I can always make you angry! He ran ahead to the rest of them.

It’s true; he could always make me mad, and since I’d been with Mathen, almost everything made me angry.

Why had my mother asked Mathen to take me? Her words repeated themselves in my ears. Mathen, the man who leads these men, knows much, and he can teach you many things.

But I didn’t want to learn what he had to teach.

Chapter 2

Where Are We Going?

R acken! Daran called me. He had come back to hurry me up, knowing that if Yabal gave me a message, I probably would not come very fast.

Daran was a big man, with arms like oak limbs and eyes dark as charred wood. Three long scars bulged out on his left arm where a bear once clawed him. He was one of the best hunters I had ever known, maybe even as good a hunter as my father. His long brown hair fell over his shoulders.

Mathen wants you. We are at a fork. His voice was always kind, but this time I did not like the message his words carried.

Yes, Mathen, I said when I had finally caught up with him.

The path, boy, which one do we take?

I heard someone chuckle; it sounded like Thaypen. I straightened my back though my stomach seemed to have squeezed itself to a small stone. All the men were watching me: Daran, Thaypen, Fallo, Garn, Neil, and Yabal.

I had never been very far from the mountains, valleys, and rivers where my tribe hunted and fished. Once, when I did leave, it was only for two days to go down to the sea. Now here I was, farther than I had ever been from my tribe’s hunting grounds, and Mathen was again asking me to tell him which way to go.

When we were still near the land where my tribe lived, I thought he didn’t know the way because he and his men came from the high mountains, which were far to the north of our hunting grounds. But as the days went by and we left the lands that I knew, Mathen kept asking me even after I told him I had never been so far from my tribe. It made no sense! I hated having to choose, and I hated him for making me choose.

So once again, I chose. The choice seemed easy: the path to the right was clear and open; the one to the left, which went north, was overgrown, hardly used. Couldn’t Mathen see that?

That way. I pointed to the right.

Mathen nodded and smiled; his gray beard covered his wrinkled but soft face, and his brown eyes sparkled and seemed to laugh. He looked pleased. Thaypen marched up to him.

Mathen, the gathering on the great plain is where we should go! You know as well as I do that it is to the north. There will be many tribes from all over. Surely you will find what you seek there?

No, Thaypen, I have what I seek now, the boy knows the way we must go, said Mathen.

The boy knows nothing!

You forget what I know, Mathen’s voice was sharp, and I say he KNOWS!

Thaypen glared at me. The argument between Mathen and him had ended quickly enough, but I didn’t like what I saw in Thaypen’s face. His anger at me grew with every day, and I did not know why. I went to the back, away from Mathen and Thaypen.

Arguments had always revolved around me. Many of them had been between my mother and Osmo, the spirit speaker in my tribe. And now here, there were arguments between Mathen and Thaypen about me. The arguments, along with everything else, beat me down.

Mathen led us down the path I had pointed out. But as we went by the fork, I noticed that the path to the north was as clear and open as the path we were on. I felt stupid and my face reddened. I picked a path because it seemed to be in the best condition. But as soon as I decided which path we should take, I looked again and the paths appeared to be the same. Sometimes the one I chose was worse!

We traveled southeast over a stretch of rolling hills. The hills broke out of the forest and into wide fields that hid small gullies with twists and turns that were like a gnarled and tangled oak branch. We were by the sea; it was nearly sunset and strangely still and quiet.

The sinking sun turned the sky into a soft blue. Orange-red clouds on the distant horizon came toward us like a huge flock of swifts, turning this way and that, covering the sky.

We’ll camp here, Mathen said.

I glanced behind me at the path we had just come down.

A long day’s journey, said Mathen.

I suddenly wanted to ask him what my mother had said to him that made him take me. But all I could do was look up at his face. His eyes were surrounded by wrinkles, brown eyes that sparkled with a light that came from inside them. I was drawn into his eyes. You begin to wonder. It is a good sign. We will talk, soon, he said.

I went to help set up camp. Yabal was off near the edge of the cliff, looking south across the sea.

Are you looking for the great sea monsters, Yabal? shouted Fallo. Three of his front teeth were missing, but that didn’t stop Fallo from talking. Yabal was too far away to hear him.

Looking for more mischief, said the bitter and hunched Thaypen.

Neil, whose face looked like dried leather, picked up a long pole from one of the skids he had just unloaded. His white hair floated in the breeze. He planted the pole in the ground, leaned against it, and pointed south. Yabal comes from there, way beyond the sea, in the far south. It’s farther south than the land where the new tribes come from.

When Yabal returned from the edge of the cliff, he walked right up to me.

Where will we go tomorrow? He did not ask me in his usual teasing voice, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be reminded of what Mathen always asked me.

I drew a deep breath and turned to Yabal. He stepped away from me quickly, a little surprised at first, maybe even disappointed. But then his old grin returned, and he yelled, The young spirit speaker has lost his tongue. That was worse. I never wanted to be a spirit speaker. Words stuck in my throat. I grabbed for my sling and picked up a stone as I ran after Yabal. Yai! The great bird hunter is hungry, watch out, he may bruise you! The men laughed as Yabal kept zigzagging through them and around the camp.

Ever since I had been with Mathen, I never hit anything with my sling. I thought the animal spirits were angry with me for leaving my tribe. But animal spirits did not protect people, and I let a stone fly at Yabal.

AHH! Thaypen rubbed his shoulder where my rock had struck hard enough to cut his flesh. The other men laughed even louder.

I swear by the bones of my kinsmen, you’ll pay for that! Thaypen shouted. His great