She rose to her feet and gave him a pat. Suddenly her fingers tightened on his shoulder. "Look out yonder. Do you see them?"
"I do, but what are they? Shawkyn spooghey wouldn't be out at dusk, and besides, there are 'way too many of them. And they don't look like birds at all. They..."
"That's because they're the Marfora Siofra," she said. "Dear Fates! It begins again." For a moment she stood there with a look of stunned alarm, as if counting them. "Quick!" she cried as she grabbed him and steered him toward the way down. "We have to warn everyone."
As the sun set, the trolls quickened their pace across the Strah to a jogging run, a wallowing rustle which drowned out all there was to hear as they flung away grass from their faces. A strike falcon appeared unnoticed behind one of them in the din, gaining on him with easy springing strides, bounding along in the failing light like a great white ghost. Suddenly the troll was on his back, screaming in terrified anguish until the bird ripped out his throat and tore open his belly.
"Nef-nephn-tirr," cried Gnydy as all the trolls froze wide-eyed.
The shawk spoogh dropped the intestine he was swallowing and lowered his head to study them, as still as any dead tree.
Without warning, the troll-brute nearest to the strike falcon exploded into fury, tramping forth and throwing back his club, only to be disemboweled where he stood as the bird sprang onto him, dancing up his front. All the trolls came running, swinging clubs and thrusting spears, all of them hooting out, "Ooot-ooot! Ooot-ooot! Ooot-ooot! Ooot-ooot...!" Gnydy got there first and lost his balance when his swing went wide, only to have his throat ripped out the moment he hit the ground. Troll after troll fell to the bird's slashing kicks. Vyrgan, known for his nerve, was the farthest away when the fray started. He came running and leaping through the grass, leveling his spear at the strike falcon's bulk as he came.
The strike falcon saw him coming and crouched to spring at the last moment, taking a glancing blow in the head from the spear as Vyrgan tumbled across his back. Immediately he wheeled and clamped onto Vyrgan's upper arm with his beak to furiously twist and yank. Suddenly, the muscles of the arm ripped loose and he stumbled backward as Fnanar stepped up with a roar and a savage swing of his club, shattering every bone in his head.
"Ooot-ooot! Ooot-ooot! Ooot-ooot!" cried Fnanar as he pummeled his chest. He held down the bird's head with his foot and pulled out first one then the other eyeball, holding them up for his remaining forty-two brutes to see before grandly flinging them out of sight over the grass. "Gut-rip-birds just be cluck-meats!" he roared as he glared at each of them in turn. "We still thunder-tramp and sneak-big! We be Dyrney-brutes. We no-be crawl-animals like Dyr and his sow-brutes!" He stopped and sniffed the air. "I snuff-snuff grab-up-squeakers. We will juicy-champ their meat-rumps before the next sun eye-burns. But before we do, we'll make them howl-beg and howl-beg for us to juicy-champ them good..."
The brutes were already cheering and stamping at this.
"They'll howl-beg for Nef-nephn-tirr..."
More cheering and stamping.
"They'll howl-beg for Vyr-nyd-phn and Gnydy..." he cried, pausing to shove his foot at Vyrgan to see if he had bled to death, yet, "and they'll howl-beg for Vyrgan..."
There was a cheer or two.
"And they'll howl-beg, howl-beg, howl-beg for hidey-hide hee-hee-sneaking behind cluck-meat gut-rip-birds in the land of all-night grass-in-eyes!" he cried as he leaped into the air and gave a huge wave. "On to the big-rock!"
There were hoots and cheers all 'round, quickly followed by silence as they waded into the grass behind Fnanar, far more carefully than before.
As Kieran helped Vorona down the end of Carraig Faire, a Strah owl landed silently as a moth atop the far end of the rock, settled itself with a snap of each wing and studied them as they hurried across the burnt off grass between the carraig and the houses of Baile Tuath. By the time they could hear laughter and piping above the sounds of their shoes crunching stubble, the owl was calling out in scratchy barks.
Kieran ushered her at a brisk walk through her garden, wending this way and that between the milling revelers, past the board, piled high with roasts and bowls of steaming peas and pies and cakes, right up to the terrace where she had performed the ceremony. When they stepped up, the piping and the clogging stopped short. She turned briskly to the crowd and nodded for Kieran to step back and then raised her hand high in the air. The whole garden fell silent at once. "No time to make it sound pretty," she said, speaking out. "This is the worst time imaginable. The Marfora Siofra are on their way! Kieran and I just saw them from on top Carraig Faire! They'll be here any time!" She paused in the horrified silence, looking about at the stunned faces.
"Well, damn it!" she cried, waving her arms. "Get moving or they'll kill all of you. To arms! Now! Go!" By the time the echoes of her voice returned, everyone was in frenzied motion.
Oisin grabbed Doona by the hand.
"Olloo!" she hollered through the pandemonium. "Get to the mews! Run!"
Olloo gave a nod and dashed away for his bow and his sword and then to the shed where the strike falcons were kept at night. When he got there, he threw open the gate and shooed out all thirteen of the birds, who each had an austringa bond mate to go find and flee with to safety. "Come on, Baase," he said, breaking into a run. "Let's go find Doona and Oisin and Brenden and Onora."
Olloo spied Doona and Oisin just as they reached their new sod cottage with Onner. "Hoy!" he cried.
Oisin gave a big wave and hurriedly scooped up Doona and set her across the threshold. Olloo and Baase were at their door in short order.
Doona grabbed Olloo by the shoulders the moment he stepped inside. "There's no place for the children but 'way off in the tall grass," she said, looking him square in the eye. "You and Baase get them all together and get as far away as you can before the trolls get here. Have them lie down in the grass until we come and get you..."
"No! If you and Oisin are going to stay here, so am I. I fought trolls when we came out here, and I'm 'way bigger now than I was then."
"Somebody 'way bigger' needs to see that the kids are safe, Olloo," said Oisin in a tone to head off any objection. "They all look up to you and will follow you anywhere. And their folks trust you enough to let them, too. You're their best chance of survival."
Olloo gave a nod and turned away at once. "Let's go, Baase."
Fnanar came quietly to the edge of the tall grass and looked across the great burnt off common field to the sod houses, with lights in many of the windows and four bonfires burning in the garden of the largest of them. "Ha!" he said, giving the ground a sound thump with his club. "Grab-up-squeakers, grab-up-squeakers. Just as I big-nod-said. Now we get to go-back and diggy-finger our noses at Dyr. We'll proud-show him grab-up-squeaker, grab-up-squeaker, grab-up-squeaker in-front-of everyone while we rear-end-first him, rear-end-first him, rear-end-first him with a big-big-big hoo-hoo-flabber-toomphing in his-face, maybe even head-smash his poopful hollow-head and roast him, too."
"These grab-up-squeakers big-head-nod hee-hee-think..." said a gnarly little brute at his elbow.
"Grab-up-squeakers never-never Dyrney-think, Phnyr-phaf," said Fnanar.
"But the burn-down grass all-round be big-big hee-hee-think," said Phnyr-phaf. "Makes far-eye big-easy."
"Ha! Big-easy far-eye for gut-rip cluck-meats. We be Dyrney-brutes," said Fnanar with a single proud thump of his chest. "We grow-forth on moth-powder possum-foot. When we get up-close, we run in smacker-quick from all-sides." He gave a decisive nod and thumped his chest once more to be answered by a nod and a chest thump from each of his brutes. And with that they crept out into the open to surround the houses of Baile Tuath.
"She'll make a big mess, but at least she'll be safe," said Doona as she shut up Onner in the cottage, picked up her bow and hurried with Oisin back to Vorona's garden to join the other villagers who were returning with arms. No one felt very much like eating. Martyn, Donachan and Alister tootled and banged
out a half-hearted piece of tune and quit, much to everyone's relief.
Suddenly there were cries of, "Ooot-ooot! Ooot-ooot! Ooot-ooot!" as Fnanar, Phnyr-phaf and a score of other brutes came running toward the garden from the well. "Loose!" cried Vorona, standing on the board with her bow as, she planted an arrow in the throat of one of the trolls. A swarm of arrows flew, dropping trolls all over the yard. More trolls appeared and now there were another score of them in the garden roaring, hooting and swinging their clubs. Oisin drew his bow as a brute ran up behind him with a spear. Doona loosed an arrow which flew high of her mark, but to her enormous relief landed square in the brute's temple, dropping him in a heap. By now Oisin stood furiously swinging his claymore as four trolls converged on him. Doona was afraid to shoot for fear of hitting him. "Oisin!" she wailed.
Suddenly Onner bounded into the fray, slashing open the front of one of Oisin's attackers and wheeling aside to rip out the throat of another. When the third troll swung at her and missed, Oisin took off the brute's head with a whistling swing of his claymore. By now Onner had the fourth one on the ground, yanking and twisting at his entrails.
Well out into the grass, Olloo paused behind the queue of children led by Lilee and Cairys to listen to the shouting which had just erupted amongst the houses.
"Ow!" cried Sorcha as she tripped and fell just ahead of him.
"Hey, we don't want the Marfora Siofra hearing us," he said quietly, as he caught up and helped her to her feet.
"Thanks Olloo," she said as she patted her yearling strike falcon. "You don't have to worry about me so much. I've got Tashtey here to watch out for me."
"Oh I know," he said, hiding his grin. "But you're a young lady, and it's good manners to help up a young lady.”
"I just wish we didn't have to be out here in the dark where the wild ones are."
"We just have to be careful to keep thinking about the wild nests we don't want to step into so that Baase and Tashtey will watch out for them.”
"I already know that," she said with the tone of rapture that young austringas get when they begin sharing thought pictures with their strike falcons.
"Sorcha! Olloo! Run!" cried Roseen from just ahead of them.
Olloo wheeled about to find a troll coming right at him with a spear, but before he could react, Baase knocked down the brute while Tashtey ripped out his throat. Trolls suddenly appeared out of the grass everywhere, lunging and grabbing for children, only to find themselves being ripped to shreds by fourteen lightning-fast shawkyn spooghey.
Olloo, Lilee and the children stood in wide-eyed disbelief as their strike falcons twisted, yanked and tore at the carcasses of every one of the brutes who had tried to waylay them. "Ha!" said Sorcha, speaking out. "Now it's their turn to be eaten after one of their raids."
Chapter 15
Fnanar ran pell-mell through the grass with his twenty-one remaining brutes, all the way back to where they had killed the strike falcon on their way to Baile Tuath. He came to a halt beside the carcass in the dew, propped his hands on his knees and heaved for some time, catching his breath. He studied his brutes as they gathered 'round, panting. "You..." he said, pausing for a few more breaths. "You, Fnay-irgy. What were you hee-hee-think?"
"There was a big-big-big flock of grab-up-squeaker kids," he stammered.
"You made our big-big jump-bite stumble-weak," rumbled Fnanar. "The grab-up-squeakers at the fires were sneak-waiting with fly-out-bites..."
"Kids be juicy-juicy juicy-champ. I needed brutes-and-brutes to help-grab and tie-up..."
"Yea?" said Fnanar, stepping around the dead strike falcon with a bristling swagger to stand face to face with him. "Well, I needed brutes-and-brutes to head-smash the fly-out-bites. So where-be your grab-up-squeakers and grab-up-squeakers?"
"No-be," he squeaked.
"And where-be my Dyrney-brutes?"
"Gut-rip-birds, gut-rip-birds, gut-rip-birds. Jump-bite, jump-bite, jump-bite. Only Gno-phn and I got away."
"Yea! To come hoot-jumping 'Gut-rip-birds! Gut-rip-birds!' and making all-the brutes at the fires turn and scardy-run. You need head-smash."
"But gut-rip-birds..."
"Here-be gut-rip-bird," said Fnanar as he turned aside and kicked at the carcass. "And you no think-back? You let gut-rip-birds jump-bite you?"
Fnay-irgy gave a faint squeal as he dropped to his knees and nodded.
"You lost Dyrney-brute, Dyrney-brute, Dyrney-brute, Fnay-irgy. When we come-back, grab-up-squeakers maybe gone. Who knows? But one thing I big-nod-think, when we do, you won't be-with us."
Fnay-irgy squeezed shut his eyes and nodded.
"Head-smash him!" roared Fnanar, as he kicked him in the face, toppling him onto his back.
Fnay-irgy threw up his hands at once to protect his face. The last thing he saw between his fingers was a smug nod from Fnanar as every club came down.
Far across the moonlit grass, a tower of winking clouds drifted over the horizon on a louring shelf of black. Olloo led Baase into the shed and stood for a moment, gratefully stroking and scratching the fluffy feathers of his neck. Roseen paused to listen to a far off rumble before stepping inside.
"That's quite a storm on its way," she said as she carefully ran her hand down the other side of Baase's neck.
"Yea, the air feels good already," he said, "though I don't smell rain yet." He nodded at Sorcha curled up in the deep grass bedding with Tashtey, both of them sound asleep. "I reckon I could carry her to your house, but I'd bet she'd rather stay here. Besides, where would she be safer than here in the mews with fifteen strike falcons? If I dream about trolls, I'll come out here myself."
"I'd say leave her, but I'll bet my folks make me come back out here and get her. I'm exhausted."
"Shall I carry her then?"
"No. Tashtey has become the center of Sorcha's world, and now that Tashtey has helped save all of our lives, I'd bet that if we woke her, she'd beg to stay out here, just this one night. And you know? I want to be in on the next wild egg hunt. If the Marfora Siofra are going to start raiding, I certainly want a pet who can save my life.”
Baase gave his feathers a thorough shake and eased himself down onto his keel in the bedding. Roseen leant against a timber in the doorway and glanced out at the sky.
"I'll bet even some of the old mossbacks will agree with that after tonight," said Olloo as he sat down in the bedding and began running his fingers through the feathers of Baase's back. "Strike falcons just might not be considered a kid's pastime by tomorrow. But even if by some miracle, that part doesn't change, there'll be changes. You know there will be. Everyone's been going about his daily business as if everything was safe for good out here on the Strah and Elf Killer danger was just a thing of the past, but there's always been that little seed of doubt in everyone's mind. No one talks about it, but you can see it every so often, just under the surface."
"I do know what you mean, Olloo. We kids keep it to ourselves because we don't want to look like we're afraid of our shadows or something childish. And you think the elders have been feeling the same way?"
"You know they do. They've lived through more raids. Just think about it. Once in a while at night you can see any person who lives here suddenly stop what he's doing to listen and look for movement in the dark, and you know that he's heard something which made him shudder. I think that every person who lives here, has known in his bones all along that the day would come when trolls would jump out of the shadows..."
"There you are," said Brenden as his silhouette stepped into the doorway. "Have you seen the sky? There's quite a storm a-coming. Good morning, Roseen."
"Yea," said Olloo, as he stood up. "I smell rain..."
"Onora sent me looking for you to see if you had moved in with Baase or if you'd like to come home for some supper before you get soaked."
"Supper well after midnight sounds good, but do you reckon that the council is going to insist that everyone has to stay awake at night, just as they did two years ago? I sure
like normal hours."
"They might. They'll meet tomorrow."
"Oh they probably will," said Olloo, coming to the gate in the doorway and looking out at the storm, "but it wouldn't make much sense. The shawkyn spooghey are out and about in the daytime, and that's when we need to be awake to train them."
"I thought you austringas, as you call yourselves, had your falcons trained."
"Only the older ones, and that's just been to hunt game. What about training them to protect us and to hunt trolls the way the curses have hunted us?"
"That's a good idea, Olloo. You need to tell the council. Would you?"
"I sure would."
"Perfect," said Brenden as he smacked the top board of the gate and turned to leave. "Then you'd better come home and have a nap, because they're meeting this morning at eight sharp."
"Roseen, I'll walk you home if you like," said Olloo.
Roseen gave a shy look at Brenden, who smiled and nodded. "Thanks," she said. "I'd like that, Olloo."
"I'll tell Onora that you're coming," said Brenden as he walked away into the dark.
"So, are we leaving your sister here in the shed?"
"Yes. Let's go, but we'd better hurry."
Far up the east slope of Mount Sliabh, near the end of the trees, a shivering owl called out to answer another one, far away through the timber. As Fnanar paused in the sliding rock rubble to get his breath and let his brutes catch up, he spied the faint light of campfires, above. "Milk-sow," he murmured as he resumed his climb with a lunge. Presently he and his company of brutes clambered onto the ledge with the fires in front of a row of large lava tubes. He made straight for the middle one where his sow knelt, fleshing a skin with a fresh flint. "Ninar-dern," he grunted as he grabbed her by the waist and began snuffling and licking at her neck. "I need juicy-champ."
"Juicy-champ? You come-back after dark, dark, dark and dark with brute, no-brute, brute, no-brute, brute, no-brute, brute, no-brute. Where-be no-brutes? Where-be grab-up-squeakers? Where-be Da?"
Elf Killers Page 15