‘And his anger grew until he became a thing of great evil. Then men died trying to curb his dark, vengeful violence. Until Pitah Annes, the greatest of all shamans, called him and tricked him into telling of the others that walked the earth with him before man came. The others that were more powerful, darker, less interested in man and his company, except as lowly conductors of dark forces. And Pitah Annes heard in the Trickster’s heart that he was as afraid of these dark ones as man had become afraid of the Trickster.

‘That is the lesson of life. The trick. Do you hear it? The others. The darker ones.’

Sam nodded, though uncomprehending. Eden continued, his voice growing urgent as though time were running out.

‘The Isksaksin is from the skull of Pitah Annes, the shaman who tricked him away into his dark prison. But the Trickster has waited an eternity to realize his ambition. He wishes the earth to be free of men again. To be empty and violent with molten mountains, and storms that shake the earth, and floods that cover those boiling mountains. So that when the Great Spirit weeps for his creations, and makes man again as he must, the Trickster will not be fooled again. He will not let his kitten become a cat a second time. He means to destroy everything.

‘You, my grandson, are the descendant of Pitah Annes, as am I, as was your father, as is your son. The Trickster hates you, and all of mankind, more than he loves himself. Man has copied that hatred, too, without knowing it. Man does his will without the knowledge of it.’

Sam was panting now, sweating, as he realized he was losing a grip on this world of sweet grass and sunshine. He reached out to Eden.

‘What is it I call with the Isksaksin? Eden! What do I call?’

The image of his grandfather was fading, and the sun was losing its warmth. He was beginning to see his breath once more and the light was turning to dark.

‘Eden!’

Sam’s head snapped back, bashing his skull against the rock and drawing blood beneath his matted hair.

Back in the tunnel.

The daylight was bright now. It had been many hours since dawn and there was no more time. He stood up and stroked the rock that had struck his head with affectionate hands.

A trickle of blood ran down the back of Sam’s neck as he walked to the centre of the rail tracks, put the Isksaksin between his teeth, closed his eyes and raised his powerful arms above his head.

‘Okay, everyone. The course this morning is giant slalom.’

Baz used his best instructor’s voice for this crowd of rich bozos, raising it above the clanking of the old Wolf chairlift that was moving slowly along above them on its frozen cable.