Podkin One-Ear

by Kieran Larwood

  ‘It’s my father’s,’ he said, in a quiet voice. ‘He is … was … a chieftain. Of Munbury warren, to the west of here. And you’re right. It is magic. It can cut through anything in the world. Except iron.’

  ‘Your father then. Is he …?’

  ‘Dead.’ Podkin felt hot tears run from his eyes into his fur. ‘The Gorm killed him, at least, we think so. Now it’s my dagger, and they’re trying to kill me too.’

  The room was silent for a moment. Podkin stared at Crom, wondering what was going on in his head. Was he planning to kill them himself and take Starclaw? Or turn them over to the Gorm and collect a fat reward? He was a mercenary, after all.

  Finally, Crom spoke. His voice was soft, almost gentle. Not gruff and harsh like it had been before.

  ‘I knew your father, Podkin. I knew him well. We fought together many times, right up until he became chieftain of his warren. He was a good rabbit and a good friend.’

  ‘He … he was?’

  ‘Yes. And he would not have wanted to see his children lost in a place like this, running for their lives.’

  Still kneeling, Crom drew his own sword. Podkin wondered what the blind warrior was going to do with it. There was nothing left to fight, surely? But Crom simply turned it over, holding the hilt out to Podkin and bowing his head.

  ‘I offer you my service, Podkin, son of Lopkin. My life and my sword are yours to command.’

  Not sure what to do, Podkin touched the sword lightly and muttered a thank you. Crom nodded, stood and sheathed his weapon. He still looked fierce, but a little friendlier somehow.

  Podkin gave him a smile, even though he knew he couldn’t see it. ‘Does this mean I get a refund?’

  Crom surprised them all by throwing back his head and laughing. ‘It means I don’t have to sell my skills any more, thank the Goddess.’

  ‘This is all very nice,’ said Mash, still holding his sister in a tight hug. ‘But can we leave now? We want to get as far away from this stinking place as we can and never come back.’

  ‘That makes six of us,’ said Paz. ‘I don’t know what Brigid was doing, sending us here. I thought she was so wise and clever …’

  Podkin looked up at the serious, deadly face of Crom. ‘Maybe she still is, sis,’ he said. Maybe there’s been a reason behind everything that’s happened today.

  From the ruined corner of the room, Shape gave a groan and his fat belly jiggled, sending more chunks of earth tumbling down on to his head. The rabbits looked at each other and nodded. Time to be somewhere else.

  They were just heading out of the door, when the booming sound of a horn blast echoed down the tunnel. It was followed by another, then another.

  ‘What’s that?’ Podkin asked.

  ‘The Boneroot alarm,’ Crom replied. ‘Someone has forced their way past the entrance.’

  ‘Who could it be?’ Podkin thought he knew the answer even as the words left his mouth. By the terrified look on everyone’s faces, they all did too.

  ‘We have to get out of here,’ said Paz. ‘Right now.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Burning

  Crom headed straight for the doorway, throwing the curtain aside. From the tunnel came the alarm again. Could Podkin hear the sound of clanking armour as well, or was that his imagination? He felt his heart begin to pound against the flimsy bones of his chest.

  ‘Wait!’ Mish shouted. ‘Our weapons!’

  The two dwarf rabbits ran to a battered wooden box that leant against the crumbling wall of Shape and Quince’s hovel. They threw open the lid and began to rummage inside, flinging copper coins, cut purses and empty mead jugs everywhere.

  Finally, they pulled out an odd selection of items and began putting them on. Both had two bandoliers made of soft leather and covered in tiny buttoned pouches. Mash also had a long piece of wooden pipe, and Mish grabbed a wooden catapult. She tested the rubber on it and grinned.

  ‘There’s more weapons,’ she said. ‘You should arm yourselves.’

  Podkin waved Starclaw in answer, but Paz ran to the box and dragged out a bronze short sword. She swished it through the air a couple of times.

  ‘What’ve you got that for?’ Podkin asked. ‘You don’t even know how to use it!’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘How? Mother would never let you loose with a deadly weapon! She wanted you to learn weaving and embroidery.’

  ‘I got Melfry the weaponmaster to teach me,’ said Paz. ‘Whenever he couldn’t find you, because you were off snoozing somewhere.’

  Toasted turnips! Podkin thought. That would have amounted to quite a few lessons. She’s probably pretty good. He nodded at his sister with a grudging admiration as she turned to follow Crom out of the burrow. Now was not the time for a squabble.

  Before leaving, he had a quick rummage in the box and pulled out Paz’s silver bracelet and his belt buckle. Goddess-be-damned if he was going to leave them behind for Shape and Quince. He tucked them into his cloak pocket and hurried after the others.

  The small group stepped out of the doorway, weapons at the ready. Crom scooped Pook on to his back and ran a paw along the mildewy earthen wall. ‘Does this tunnel lead anywhere? An exit? Somewhere to hide?’ He sounded like a soldier now – a captain about to lead his troops into battle.

  Mish and Mash both shook their heads. ‘It’s a dead end down that way,’ said Mash. ‘Just a load of rubbish and slops.’

  ‘Then we have to go back into the main chamber. Everyone stay behind me and don’t get separated,’ Crom ordered. It was the last thing they wanted to hear, but they fell in line all the same.

  The tunnel seemed longer and scarier than ever. Noises floated towards them that were nothing to do with the market. Snatches of shouting, shrieks of fear. Podkin dreaded what would meet them when they stepped out into the main chamber. He thought of the Gorm, bursting up from the ground, pouring out into the Munbury longburrow to rip away everything he loved. To see that again, to feel that much terror … every muscle in his body tried to make him turn and run the other way.

  In his hand, Starclaw fizzed and juddered. It was like the dagger knew his fear, and was angry about it. Podkin stared down at it in the gloom. Could it really read his mind? Was it trying to help him?

  Anger was good. Anger was powerful. It gave him the courage to keep moving forward down the tunnel, and when he got to the end – well, it might not be enough to make him want to actually fight the Gorm, but it would help him find the strength to get past them, if he could. Out into the forest, where he actually stood a chance.

  ‘Quietly now! Keep low!’ Crom’s commands snapped Podkin from his dreaming, and he realised they were almost at the tunnel mouth. The other rabbits were all crouched low, keeping to the shadows. Mish jumped on Mash’s shoulders to put out a candle that was lighting the tunnel, and it became even darker. They crept forwards, so that they could see into the huge chamber of Boneroot market.

  The place was in chaos, but not of the mad, busy, bustling kind. The stalls at the closest end of the market were all overturned and trampled. Goods were crushed and smashed, banners and bunting strewn everywhere. Crowds of jostling rabbits were scrambling away, towards the far end of the chamber, throwing things out of their path as they went. It was a stampede of crazed terror, and Podkin could see what was causing it.

  Directly opposite the tunnel mouth they were crouching in was the Boneroot entrance, now crammed full of hunched, armoured shapes. It was the Gorm, just as he had known it would be when the alarm sounded.

  There were twenty of them at least, standing between the crumbling pillars and winding roots, with more stomping into the chamber behind them. Torchlight glinted off their cruel armour as they stood in formation, looking around at the place they had just destroyed with their blank red eyes.

  ‘They’re just standing there,’ whispered Paz. ‘Why aren’t they chasing the market rabbits?’

  Podkin saw she was right. Surely they should be attacking, or at least sm
ashing the rest of the market into pieces? It was almost as if they were waiting for something.

  There was a commotion in the tunnel, and Pod realised they were about to find out what. The Gorm parted, making space for someone to enter. Someone taller and fiercer than the rest, with a pair of lopsided iron horns curling upwards from his helmet.

  Scramashank.

  He was here. He had caught them.

  Or had he? Did he know they were hiding, just a few metres away? Maybe the Gorm had just stumbled upon Boneroot by accident? Did that mean they would be able to sneak past and escape somehow?

  All these thoughts raced through Podkin’s head in a few seconds. He didn’t feel brave or angry any more. Even the thrumming dagger he was holding couldn’t stop him trembling. He looked up at Crom with white-rimmed, terrified eyes, waiting for the signal to run, run for their lives.

  ‘Hold,’ the big rabbit whispered, sensing the fear of the others. ‘Not yet. Not yet.’

  Podkin grabbed Paz’s hand and squeezed tight, looking across at the Gorm and their evil, father-killing lord. There was no sign that he’d seen them. Scramashank was beckoning his troops, two of whom were dragging something down from the entrance.

  Was it a rabbit? Yes. A half-dead, beaten scrap of one. By his long beard and patched armour, Podkin recognised him as the guard who had let them in through the hidden door. His face was bruised and bloodied now. He had clearly put up a good fight, for all the good it had done him.

  ‘Lift him up.’ Just hearing Scramashank’s voice again made Podkin want to cry. Oh, if only he were some kind of legendary warrior, like in the stories, who could storm out there and smash the Gorm to pieces, instead of hiding in a tunnel, trying not to wet himself.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ The guard-rabbit had been hoisted upright, and Scramashank was face-to-face with him, staring right into the poor creature’s eyes. He made some kind of noise, halfway between a grunt and a whimper.

  ‘Thought you’d hidden yourself away, didn’t you? Thought you were all safe from the Gorm, down here in your stinking little pit.’

  The rabbit grunted again.

  ‘It was only a matter of time, of course,’ Scramashank continued. ‘We were bound to find you. Just as we’ll find every rabbit in all the Five Realms. There is nowhere you can hide from the Gorm.’

  His men cheered at this, and banged their swords against their armour, making a hideous, clanging din that echoed around the chamber. When it had died down, Scramashank grabbed the guard-rabbit’s beard and jerked his head up, hard. ‘Enough talk. I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll give you one chance to spare your miserable life.’

  ‘I’m looking for some rabbits. Little rabbits. A boy, a girl and a baby.’

  Podkin and Paz both held their breath, clinging on to each other as hard as they could.

  ‘They have something I want. A dagger or a sword – I’m not sure what it looks like, only that it isn’t a silver broadsword.’ Scramashank paused to snarl, angry that he’d been tricked by Lopkin’s decoy. ‘If they’ve been through this festering fleapit, you must have seen them.’

  What would the rabbit say? Would he betray them? Please, please, please, Podkin thought, not sure who he was even praying to.

  The guard-rabbit lifted his head higher with the last of his strength. He opened his mouth to speak, and Scramashank leaned in closer to listen.

  Then the brave, wonderful guard spat into the Gorm Lord’s face.

  There was a moment of total silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Scramashank was like an iron statue, motionless as the gob of spittle ran slowly down the faceplate of his helmet. Then, with a speed and strength that shocked even Podkin, the Gorm Lord grabbed the guard-rabbit and threw him across the chamber.

  He sailed through the air like a broken doll, crashing into a candle stall, sending sparks and hot wax showering everywhere. Flames began to spring up amongst the market wreckage and tinder-dry roots, and with nobody to put them out they quickly spread.

  Was this the diversion they had been waiting for? Just as Podkin looked up at Crom for a signal, he caught sight of movement from the corner of his eye. The Boneroot rabbits had regrouped themselves into a ragtag army of a kind, and had used the guard’s questioning as a diversion. Sneaking up amongst the abandoned stalls, they had crept into position and, even as flames began to leap up around them, they let fly a hail of spears, arrows and stones at the Gorm invaders.

  The Battle of Boneroot had started.

  Podkin stared on in horror. Besides the attack on Munbury, he had never witnessed any real violence, and that had been nothing compared to this. Missiles pinged and zipped through the air, most of them clanging harmlessly off the Gorm armour. A few seconds later, the Gorm responded, sending long, iron-tipped spears whooshing towards the Boneroot rabbits. Around them all, the fire grew, filling the air with stinging smoke.

  Still Crom waited.

  It wasn’t until the flames had spread almost up to the mouth of their tunnel that he finally made a move. Clouds of smoke billowed everywhere. Podkin couldn’t even see the Boneroot entrance any more, so he was sure the Gorm couldn’t see him.

  ‘Now, everybody!’ Crom shouted. ‘With me, and as fast as you can!’

  They stood and ran, down from the tunnel and on to the cavern floor. The entire marketplace had become a bonfire, sending sheets of flame shooting up to the root-covered ceiling above. Showers of sparks whirled amongst the black smoke, and burning streamers of bunting flapped this way and that like huge snakes made of fire. Boneroot rabbits danced in and out of the inferno, shooting arrows then dodging away again before Gorm spears could find them.

  ‘I know a way out,’ Crom called back to the group. ‘But you must guide me.’

  He put out his hand and Podkin grabbed it, thinking to lead him along, but the warrior rabbit hauled him up and on to his back, next to the mewling, shaking Pook.

  ‘Be my eyes, Podkin. We need to find the sellsword stall. Quickly now.’

  Podkin had a vague idea where it was, but it was difficult to see in the smoke. He put an arm around Pook to comfort him, then shouted into Crom’s ear. ‘Forward! Keep going along this side of the cavern!’

  With Crom leading the way, and Podkin steering him like a rider on a giant rat, they made their way as quickly as they could along the edge of the market floor. They had to dodge pieces of burning canvas and step through the shattered remains of stalls as they went, which slowed them down dangerously. Podkin snuck a quick glance across the cavern to see the Gorm steadily advancing, stepping through flames that licked off their armour. I hope they boil inside, he thought, but they just kept striding on as though they couldn’t even feel the heat.

  ‘Nearly there!’ he shouted in Crom’s ear. He thought he could see the bodies of some rabbits amongst the debris. Was that one of the gambling rabbits, lying curled beneath that broken stall? And there – was that the rabbit with the pickled beetroots that had given them directions when they first arrived? Podkin felt like they should do something, but there was no time to stop and help. It was every rabbit for himself.

  ‘The sellsword market!’ Paz yelled. ‘There it is!’

  Just a few steps further, behind a wall of roiling black smoke; there it was – the fenced enclosure where Podkin had first spotted Crom. He remembered wondering how a blind rabbit could possibly fight. Now his very life depended on him.

  ‘Quick, everyone. Into the enclosure. Head for the stone pillar at the far side. There’s a passage behind.’

  They all dashed across the now-empty space, past the tattered blanket where Crom had sat for Goddess knows how long. Sure enough, there was a tunnel entrance, just the right size for a small rabbit, hidden amongst the shadows.

  Paz was just about to dart in, when something struck the stone pillar by her head with a loud crash. Sharp chips of stone exploded off it, hitting her in the face and knocking her to the floor. It was a spear, Podkin saw, and it had missed spiking her through the head by
only a few inches.

  Crom spun around, making Pod and Pook cling on for dear life. There, stomping out of the smoke clouds, was a Gorm warrior. His iron armour was blackened by soot, the fur on his ears seared away and the flesh beneath scorched pink. Not that he seemed to care: his jagged broadsword was already swinging towards them, those dead red eyes staring at them as if they were nothing but walking meat.

  ‘Jump back!’ Podkin yelled, making Crom leap. Just in time, as the sword whooshed past his nose and thudded into the stone floor of the cavern. ‘Didn’t you hear it coming?’

  ‘The noise,’ Crom shouted. ‘It’s too much. I can’t hear where he’s coming from. Be my eyes again, Podkin!’

  The cacophonic screaming in the cavern, the roar of burning timber, the wash of red-hot air and stink of smoke: all of these things had dulled the senses Crom relied on to make up for his useless eyes.

  The Gorm had raised his sword high and was coming at them again.

  ‘Duck!’ Podkin screamed. ‘Jump right!’

  The broadsword swished past them both times, missing them by a few whiskers. How could Crom attack if he couldn’t sense the enemy? What if another Gorm came to join in?

  ‘Let’s even the field a bit, shall we?’ said a voice at Crom’s feet.

  Podkin looked down to see Mish, her catapult stretched back as far as it would go, pointing at the Gorm’s face. Beside her, Mash had the pipe held to his mouth. They both fired at once, little black balls of something shooting up at the armoured head of their attacker and hitting both of his helmet’s eyeholes at once. The balls exploded, filling the Gorm’s eyes with black sticky goo that smoked and burned. The warrior roared, dropping its sword, clawing at its face.

  Now was the chance to hit him, but would a blow from Crom be enough to knock him off his feet? There needed to be something behind the warrior’s feet – something to make him stumble …

  A memory popped into Podkin’s head from nowhere: playing in the meadows at Midsummer with Rusty and Rufus from Redwater. Pod would creep up behind one and crouch down, and then Paz would push them over, sending them tumbling into the soft, sweet grass. Then they would all roar with laughter, like it was the funniest thing in the world.