Across the Face of the World by Russell Kirkpatrick Read Free Book Online

Pell told me about Stella and that splendid boy Druin and I forgot every-thing else.' She paused, took a short breath, then continued, 'Have you heard? You have heard, haven't you? They say he might be the next Haufuth! And what if they were to announce their engage¬ment? Wouldn't I be so fortunate to have such a boy for a son?'
    Leith looked wide-eyed at the old woman. Stella and Druin, hctrothed? He had seen them together, skating on the lake, but had thought nothing of it. Surely not! But wild images of Stella and Druin together came hot into his mind, and as though his imag¬inings somehow made it real, he saw them in their own house, with children. He looked down at his carving, but his hand was not steady enough to resume his work. Herza began talking about something else, but Leith paid no attention. And when the woman finally left, hours later, Leith was still sitting by the fire, knife in one hand and carving in the other.
    The weather - the whole world - spiralled towards Midwinter. The villagers, so free to wander abroad in field, forest and town during the precious summer months, now found themselves locked inside fragile homes, tempers fraying, able to venture out only in clement weather.
    Darkness pressed in on them like shadowy, snow-laden trees stooping over a dusky road, an ever-darkening tunnel through which the villagers of Loulea travelled towards the shortest day of the year.
    To Indrett, this time of the year was particularly oppressive. Her two boys bustled about amusing themselves in various ways, while she slowly withdrew into herself. Winters were not like this in Rammr, far to the south. There the snow settled only occa¬sionally on wide, paved streets, and was welcomed as a playful friend. But here it stole colour and life, smothering everything in a sterile, cold weight, just as it had smothered her heart. Her hopes of ever seeing Mahnum again faded into a creeping numbness.
    Leith did not notice his mother's decline. He was going to show everyone that things were all right, that Stella didn't matter to him. So every opportunity saw him out with the sledge his father had made him, riding the snow-covered downs below Kurr's farm with his friends. He had packed a great deal into the last two months - learning how to repair a roof and succeeding in repairing their own, collecting and chopping wood, working another week for Kurr, then days on the snow of the downs and evenings indoors, close to the fire, working away at his birch carving. It was this carving that occupied him during the solitary, indoor days; a carving of a tall, unshirted man pulling an axe from a log. He had long finished the rough outlining, but was having trouble with the detail, particularly the face. For long periods he would stare into space, and afterwards could never remember what it was he had been thinking about.
    Soon the week before Midwinter was upon them. Activity on the cold, snow-lined streets increased, regardless of the weather, as preparations for Midwinter's Day gained momentum.
    This year's celebrations were to be held at Falthwaite End, a special place on a low hill half a league north of the village. The farm there was recent, but the name was from antiquity. It meant 'cultivated land', and was the older form of Faltha, the name given by the First Men to the whole of the Western World. Tradition said that the tree-crowned hill was the furthest north ever tilled by the hands of the First Men, but many thought this dubious in the light of old farms still occupied at least ten leagues to the north of Loulea. The feast would be held under a group of magnificent oak trees, and tarred canvas would shield the villagers from the weather. Should the heavy snows come, or the wind rise, there was a small, cramped barn on the far side of the hill they could retreat to. Wherever they were held, the Celebrations would last most of the day and on into the night, with the culmination, the Midwinter Play and the Haufuth's