Fire Bringer

by David Clement-Davies

  ‘I don’t know,’ answered the seal, shaking his head gravely. ‘You say you’re no changeling?’

  ‘No. But the other things. The feeling and the dreams and. . . well, none of the others can understand Lera.’

  Rannoch was surprised at himself. This was the first time he had ever tried to convince anyone that there was something special about him. At this Rurl looked hard at Rannoch. He coughed and then slapped one of his flippers on the sand.

  ‘Ah now,’ he said, ‘I was coming to that. Now that does make you sort of different, but it doesn’t prove the Prophecy.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, how do you think I find out about the world? I’ve had conversations with dolphins that would make your fur stand on end. I’ve talked to penguins and kittiwakes. I’ve chatted to sharks – from the rocks, of course – and I’ve even had a long talk with an albatross, though I wouldn’t recommend it – they’ve really got very little to say for themselves.’

  ‘But I never learnt it,’ said Rannoch.

  ‘You don’t need to learn it; all Lera could do it if they wanted to. Or rather if they’d only stop thinking of themselves and being afraid all the time. Listen for a change.’

  The seal’s tone had grown rather serious.

  ‘There was a time, in the old days, when all the animals conversed as a matter of course. But they lost the knack. Don’t ask me why. Most of the sea creatures can still do it but that’s the trouble with the land, I suppose. It cuts you off. Splits you up, if you know what I mean.’

  Rannoch looked rather relieved.

  ‘But why couldn’t I understand the boy?’ he asked.

  ‘Ah. No animal can talk to man and no animal should,’ Rurl muttered.

  ‘But man is an animal too, isn’t he?’ The seal paused. He looked at a loss.

  ‘I suppose so,’ he said at last, ‘though even my knowledge of the world grows dark when it comes to man.’

  Rannoch was disappointed.

  ‘Oh, I know certain things about man,’ said the seal. ‘I know that man is always fighting and killing. I know too that death is coming to the Great Land because of him.’

  ‘Death,’ whispered Rannoch.

  ‘The men from the north are at work again. They are coming across the water in their carved trees. Their king has even been in the west and one day when they come both man and Lera will bleed, for man is the bringer of violence.’ As Rannoch listened he thought of the boy again and how sometimes his eyes had seemed so kindly.

  ‘But look,’ said the seal suddenly, ‘I’m quite famished with all this talk. I’ll fish for a while and then I’ll dive for sea grass. It’s getting dark, but at least there’ll be a moon tonight. Then we can talk again.’

  Rannoch nodded and the seal lumbered back down the beach and dived into the waves. The deer noticed how awkward and ungainly he was on the land but when he returned to the water, how swift and graceful. That night a full moon came up. Across the waves the mountains and the islets and the slopes of Mull were swathed in cloud that drifted around the sparse trees or broke on the rocks and hung in mysterious shapes about the mountain backs. The water shone in the moonlight and shrugged restlessly back and forth as though unsettled by the moon, so that even the shrimps began to listen to its plaintive call. Rurl dived for fish, which he threw up flapping onto the slippery rocks, and when he was done he brought the deer the very best seaweed that he could find. Further down the beach he lolloped up onto some flat stones and Rannoch lay down in the sand and together they began to talk again in the moonlight.

  For three suns Rannoch stayed on the beach with Rurl and the seal told him something of what he knew about the land of Scotia. About the huge mountains, always lost in rain and cloud, which lay to the north and shrugged down to the very edge of the sea. About the thousand coves that dotted its splintered shores and the dark subterranean rivers that some said led far, far underground and up into the vast land-bound lochs that crossed the country.

  He told him also how he had often dived for the sea grass to make himself well and of the other things in the sea that could cure a seal. Rannoch showed a special interest in this and when he asked Rurl if he had learnt it from his mother, the seal explained that some of it he had, but that other things he had found out for himself. The secret, he said, was to trust and listen, for the animals know the things they need, while scent and colour can tell them many of the plants’ mysteries. As Rannoch listened the sea crashed and swayed as it had done since the forming of the world.

  Rurl also told him about what he knew of the Herla and what had become of them while Rannoch had been away. He had heard that Drail was dead, murdered by traitors, it was said, and that Sgorr now called himself Lord of Herds and his Sgorrla were moving everywhere. That the Low Lands were his, though above the loch there were still Outriders proud to call themselves by that name.

  When Rurl mentioned the loch, Rannoch looked up with a keen interest.

  ‘My friends,’ he said, ‘any news of my friends? Willow and Bankfoot and my mother, Bracken.’

  Rurl suddenly looked very serious.

  ‘I’m not certain,’ answered Rurl, ‘but the first night you came I asked a seagull to fly east and try and find out everything he could.’

  ‘And. . .’

  ‘And he met a golden eagle who lived by the loch and knew something of the Herla. She said that last summer, when you were still with the boy, something very strange happened. The hinds and the young deer who she had seen coming out of the snows nearly two years before were suddenly rounded up together. They were driven south by a group of stags and seemed to be travelling against their will.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Rannoch gravely.

  ‘The eagle followed them and when they had travelled a long way they were met by a group of stags from the south, led by a hornless deer. They were handed over to them.’

  ‘Sgorr,’ gasped Rannoch. ‘But that means that Bracken and my friends are in Sgorr’s clutches. I know he means them harm. I’ve got to help them, Rurl.’

  ‘He means you more harm,’ said Rurl quietly, ‘if he finds out you are still alive.’

  ‘I can’t help that,’ said Rannoch desperately. ‘I must try to save them.’

  ‘Do try to think, Rannoch,’ said Rurl, almost angrily.

  ‘What can you possibly do? You are still a young stag. You are alone and have no herd or Outriders to help you. Your path is uncertain and wherever you go you are marked with that leaf on your forehead. Sgorr’s spies are everywhere and will kill you at the first opportunity.’

  ‘This mark has caused me nothing but trouble,’ said Rannoch bitterly.

  He was thoughtful for a while.

  ‘Perhaps I should go back to the loch,’ he said at last, ‘and ask the Outriders for help.’

  ‘No,’ said Rurl, ‘they have not yet submitted to Sgorr, but Colquhar has taken the lordship and the eagle says he has a kind of alliance with Sgorr.’

  Rannoch fell silent. Though he suddenly felt a biting guilt towards his mother and his friends, which was mixed with a mounting loneliness, he knew that the seal was right. That night he hardly talked to the seal at all as he gazed out sadly across the bitter sea. But the next morning, bright and fresh, when Rannoch had been dozing on the shore, Rurl suddenly flapped, barking, onto the sand. He seemed more cheerful and he was unusually excited.

  ‘I’ve been talking to the others about you,’ he said, ‘and how we might help you in your quest.’

  ‘My quest?’ said Rannoch.

  ‘To find out if that mark means anything. If there’s any truth in the Prophecy.’

  ‘You can tell me, then?’ said Rannoch breathlessly.

  ‘No,’ answered Rurl, shaking his strange head, but there are others who might be able to.’

  ‘Others?’

  ‘Yes. To the north, in the High Land.’ Rannoch’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Who?’ he whispered.

  ‘Herla. Like you. There a
re tales of a strange herd up there. Herne’s Herd they call themselves. They are said to have a deep knowledge of Herne and to worship according to the ancient Lore. Perhaps they can tell you more than I can.’

  Rannoch stirred.

  ‘But how would I find them?’ he asked.

  ‘That I don’t know,’ said Rurl, ‘except that they are said to live in the northern shadows of the Great Mountain.’

  ‘The Great Mountain?’

  ‘Yes. Some even believe that Herne himself lives on the Great Mountain.’ Rannoch shivered.

  ‘So you think I should go up there?’ he said rather disconsolately.

  ‘If you really want to find out.’

  ‘But what about my mother and my friends?’

  Rurl looked at Rannoch and he suddenly felt bitterly sorry for the deer.

  ‘Whatever you decide, Rannoch, you must be careful. Sgorr will do everything he can to destroy you.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rannoch thoughtfully, ‘it seems I’m a danger to everyone now, whatever I do. I’ll go north. At least until I find out. . . what I am.’

  ‘But there you must be careful too,’ said Rurl gravely, ‘for the herd I told you of, there are dark rumours surrounding them, Rannoch.’

  ‘What rumours?’

  ‘Of strange powers,’ answered Rurl, ‘and some say they have knowledge of man. Your own journey and the words of the Prophecy link you in some way to that creature.’

  Rannoch nodded but then Rurl suddenly gave Rannoch a very strange look.

  ‘Rannoch,’ he said quietly, ‘have you ever thought what the first verse might mean?. . . Then shall Herne be justly woken . . .’

  Rannoch was silent.

  ‘That you’re. . .’

  ‘Don’t say it, Rurl,’ said Rannoch. ‘Don’t.’

  Rannoch stared at the seal and once again he felt a fear rising inside him. But with it came an anger, at everything that had happened to him. The anger made him feel stronger suddenly and a resolution began to awaken in his mind.

  ‘Rurl, it’s time I left you,’ he said suddenly.’Keela will be waiting and I’ve delayed too long.’

  Rurl nodded sadly.

  ‘Take care, Rannoch,’ he said, as the deer turned to leave.

  ‘If you ever need me, the other creatures of the sea can carry a message. One day I’ll be glad to hear how you fare and if there’s any truth in this prophecy of yours.’

  As Rannoch picked up the seaweed in his mouth and trotted back up the beach the seal was genuinely sad to see him go. But Rurl was suddenly distracted by the darting silver flurry of a fish and he dived into the waves to hunt. A little girl, a crofter’s child who was collecting pebbles nearby, saw Rannoch too. The sight thrilled the child and she ran back to her parents to tell them that a huge red deer with great antlers was eating seaweed on the shore.

  Rannoch ran, laying down the seaweed only to graze and drink, heading east up the edge of the loch and not stopping once to rest. When he reached the tree and the river, Keela was looking out for him and the otter turned in circles when he saw him for his mate had grown worse. He took the seaweed gratefully and pulled the dangling, salty stems down into the fresh water, up again across the dry earth, and into the hole in the river bank where his mate was curled asleep.

  Keela woke her gently and she began to gnaw at it and, though she blinked and winced a little, she went on chewing with her sharp teeth, for she knew that it was good for her. Rannoch spent that night lying down in the grass by the river, dozing or listening to the wind and the rushing water. Though it reminded him of the sea, he knew somehow that in its nature it was different.

  Rannoch woke early the next day and to his delight he found Keela and his pretty mate both sitting on the tree stump watching him. She was obviously much recovered.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said shyly to the deer, ‘for helping us.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Keela.’Now what can we do for you?’

  ‘Perhaps we can fish for you?’ said his mate. Rannoch shook his head and smiled.

  ‘No, it’s enough to have helped you. But now I should be on my way again. There is one thing, though, I’d like to know, if you can tell me. I’m trying to get to the Great Mountain.’

  Keela nodded and described the best route he could, for he and his mate had often visited other otters that lived around its foothills. With that, looking wistfully to the south where he knew his mother and his friends now lay suffering Herne knew what fate, Rannoch turned north on his own.

  ‘Rannoch,’ called Keela as the deer went, ‘we shall look out for you. Always remember, the otters shall be your friends. But, Rannoch, we thought you’d better know. Be careful. There are Herla about.’

  12 Wolf

  ‘When the stars threw down their spears, And water’d heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see?Did he who made the Lamb make thee?’ William Blake, ‘The Tyger’

  As Rannoch passed the loch where he had turned west towards the sea, the mountains began to rear above him and the deer’s mood swiftly sank. As the bens climbed around him, brooding giants hidden in mist, loneliness crept in on him once more. He thought bitterly of his friends. He also felt the threat of Sgorr all around him and the threat of what he was rising to face, of Herne’s Herd and the dark rumours surrounding them. But worse than all this was the fear of the mysterious High Land and what he might discover about himself up there in the north.

  As he traversed those great slopes he would stop often and look back and scent the breeze. But on Rannoch went, rising higher and higher, instinctively avoiding the valley bottoms and using the dying bracken as cover. Of man or Lera he saw little, for even in the days when men would come to settle in these wild parts, there would be few places to find shelter.

  Around him the country became strange and forbidding. Huge forests tore above him. Cliff faces lowered and groaned. Waterfalls spluttered out of the mist and even the most secret of stones were visited by the wind. The young deer felt he was lost in a country of shadows and inwardly he trembled.

  He was just descending through a sparse wood, to drink at the burn he had spied below it, when he lifted his nose to the breeze.

  The scent was unmistakable. A group of Herla were coming downwind and moving fast. Rannoch’s legs began to shake and he felt a terrible apprehension in his stomach. He had not met one of his kind in so long and now, while he yearned to be reunited with his own, he had no way of knowing if these Herla were friend or foe.

  Rannoch was wondering what to do, whether to run back up the hill or hide where he was, when the deer appeared below him and stopped to drink at the burn. The stags, six of them, all ten- and twelve-pointers, had obviously been running for a while, for their thick coats were drenched in sweat and steam rose from their backs into the cool air.

  ‘We can’t go on like this,’ said one of them wearily when he had refreshed himself. Rannoch realized he could hear clearly what they were saying. He was upwind of them and they obviously hadn’t seen him, so he kept very still and listened.

  ‘No, but we can’t go back without them,’ said another.

  ‘You know what Sgorr would do to us.’ Rannoch’s senses were instantly on alert.

  ‘It’s your fault for losing their tracks in the first place,’ said a third, addressing the first.

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ came the angry response. ‘If that herd of cattle hadn’t crossed the stream, their slots would have been as clear as daylight in the mud.’

  Deer, thought Rannoch, as he listened. They’re hunting for deer.

  ‘Well, what are we going to do?’ said another stag.

  ‘Keep looking until we hunt them down. Those are our orders,’ said the first.

  ‘But what if they make it into the High Land?’

  ‘Now that’s different. You know Sgorr has forbidden any southern Herla to cross into the High Land on pain of death.’

  ‘I’ve always wondered why.’

  ‘It’s not a Sgorrla’s job to
ask questions but to obey.’

  ‘I know, I know, I was just wondering,’ said the stag a little nervously.

  ‘Well, I’m not sad it’s so,’ said another stag. ‘You know the rumours. They say that Herne’s Herd eat any deer they capture and because they have learnt their ways from man, their ghosts are forever trapped on the Great Mountain, to haunt the heather and howl like snow demons.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said the stag who had reminded them of the Sgorrla’s duty, ‘and I’ll have no talk of Herne or Herne’s Herd, right? What are you thinking of? Talking as if these were the old days, before Sgorr freed us and we began again with Sgorr’s Year. You’d pay for that if we were back home.’

  ‘It seems to me we’ll pay anyway if they escape into the High Land and we’re not allowed to follow them,’ said the deer sullenly.

  ‘So they mustn’t escape,’ said the stag, ‘whatever happens. We must take them back with us or not go back at all.’

  ‘Then they’ll get it.’

  ‘We’ve more chance of getting it than they have,’ said the stag who had just spoken.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Remember those two deer that came from the north? They say that they’re under Eloin’s protection and as long as Sgorr wants Eloin, he won’t harm them.’

  Rannoch stirred. The name had lit a distant light in his memory.

  ‘Then why does he care so much about getting these ones back? We’ve been searching for well over a year now.’

  ‘You know what Sgorr’s like. Hates to be beaten. Besides, they’re all still quite young. Not like the ones that came back. Those two were just ageing hinds. Probably too old for retraining anyway. But these.’‘Give me a Herla before their fourth growth and they’re mine for ever,’’ Sgorr always says.’

  ‘But they’re not all young ’uns,’ said another stag suddenly. ‘There’s that one with them, the hind. If it wasn’t for her being so slow they’d have been long gone seasons ago. I’m sure she’s wounded. What’s her name?’

  ‘Bracken.’

  Rannoch felt a jolt. His mother, alive and obviously close at hand. And who were these youngsters the stags were talking about? Could it really be Willow and Bankfoot and the others? Rannoch suddenly felt hope swelling in his chest.