‘I’m not sure about this,’ Podkin’s mother said. ‘My brother and I haven’t spoken in years. We didn’t part on very good terms …’
‘Then perhaps you should follow on later,’ said Crom. ‘You can bring your sister, Olwyn. Sorrel can come with you, along with Surestrike. We can’t leave any of the Gifts here, just in case. I will go ahead with Podkin and some others. We need to persuade Hennic to let us use his bow, and a family quarrel might get in the way.’
‘Good luck persuading him of anything,’ Lady Enna muttered, but nobody except Podkin heard her.
*
By the next morning, the advance party was ready. It consisted of Podkin, Paz and Pook, Crom, Yarrow, Dodge, Rill and Vetch, to lead the way. Tansy, the warrior from Applecross, brought the Gormkiller arrows. A second group – including Podkin’s mother and aunt, along with Brigid and Sorrel to look after them – would follow at a slower pace in a couple of days. The rabbits Brigid had nursed back to health were still quite weak, some needing sticks to walk. And there was also an unspoken agreement that it was better for the Dark Hollow council to smooth things over with Chief Hennic before Lady Enna arrived on the scene.
Mish, Mash and the scouts would stay behind until the very last moment, risking the Gorm’s arrival in order to make sure any straggling refugees could find them. It was a very brave thing to do, and Podkin couldn’t help wishing the dwarf rabbits were coming along with him, but they had absolutely insisted. There was no arguing with a dwarf rabbit once its mind was set.
The thought of the forest being eaten, Dark Hollow destroyed, another home lost … it was almost too much for Podkin. He stood with the rest of his group, pack on his back, resting a paw against the great oak doors of the warren. He didn’t want to let go, imagining it being ground to sawdust by the Gorm’s nightmarish machines. He might never see it again.
Paz finally had to prise his little hand away, whispering in his ear, ‘It’ll be fine, Pod. We’ll be back soon, you’ll see. We’ll find a way to stop the Gorm destroying the forest.’
Podkin wasn’t sure, but he let himself be led across to where Crom was waiting. The big warrior put a gentle paw on his head. Podkin’s mother was fussing over Pook, sniffing away tears and making Yarrow promise for the seven-hundredth time that he would take care of him.
She came and cried over Podkin and Paz too, rubbing noses, straightening cloaks and making them swear they would be careful.
‘We’re only walking through the forest, Mother,’ Podkin said. ‘You’ll be behind us as well. We’ll see you in a few days.’
‘I know, I know. But …’ She was helped away by Auntie Olwyn, who blew the children a kiss farewell.
Brigid was next to say goodbye. She had a sad, pained look on her face. Podkin remembered it from the time she sent them off to Boneroot. It was never good news when someone who knew the future looked at you like that.
‘What is it?’ Podkin asked as she stooped down to hug him. ‘What’s going to happen to us this time?’
‘Nothing that doesn’t need to, my dear,’ she said, not able to meet his eye. ‘Just trust in the Goddess, won’t you? And look after each other. Like you’ve always done.’
‘It’s something awful, isn’t it?’ Podkin said. ‘Can’t you just tell us?’
Brigid shook her head. ‘Whatever I say might change the path. Whatever I don’t say might change it too.’ She gave a deep sigh, ears drooping. ‘I’m so tired of this burden. Of always knowing. Be careful, Podkin. The forest has secrets. And so do those around you.’
Podkin wanted to ask more, but their group was off. A cluster of rabbits from the warren pushed forward to shout goodbye, and Brigid was lost in the crowd. Crom took Podkin’s hand and led him onwards, and then they were walking away from Dark Hollow, into the forest, into whatever danger Brigid was trying to warn them of.
*
They took one of the scout paths through the trees, following it until it met up with the main track south. The rutted road was where carts from Silverock warren cut through the forest, bringing barrels of their famous mead to trade with the warrens of Gotland and Enderby.
Once they were on the track, their progress was quite fast. They broke for a quick lunch then pressed on, hoping to be halfway there by nightfall. Podkin didn’t fancy camping out in the middle of the forest with no burrow to hide in, but there weren’t any warrens that deep inside Grimheart. Possibly because the trees were so thick, or maybe there was no space for farming. Or it could be because of the Beast, his mind added. The legendary Beast of Grimheart that has terrified everyone.
Crom had grown up in the forest and said he had never seen a beast. He even suggested that the old Dark Hollow rabbits had made up the legend to keep other rabbits away. If they had, they’d done a good job. Warrens all around told tales of the mysterious creature: a horned being, three times the size of a grown rabbit, who would eat you for breakfast if you wandered too far into the forest.
Tales to scare kittens, Podkin told himself. He had never believed a word of it before. But now he couldn’t help looking at the deep woods around him as they walked. At the blackness between the trees, where it was cold and dark and hungry.
He hurried his pace to walk beside Paz, hoping for a chat to keep his imagination quiet.
‘So,’ he said. ‘What’s the problem between Mother and Uncle Hennic then? I don’t think we’ve ever even met him, have we?’
‘I think I did when I was very young,’ said Paz. ‘You probably weren’t even born.’
‘Did they have an argument, or something?’ Podkin pressed on. ‘Or was it just because he took one look at you and decided to pretend we weren’t related?’
Paz cuffed him on his good ear and scowled. ‘It was way before that, badger-breath. You wouldn’t understand anyway. You’re too young.’
‘Try me.’
Paz sighed. ‘All right. If it’ll keep you quiet. Mother told me about it, back in Munbury before … you know, before.
‘Apparently it was something to do with Father. Hennic and Mother grew up together at Sparrowfast. Their father, Uthric, was chief. Mother was the eldest, like me, but Hennic was next in line. He knew it too, and was always putting Mother down about it. How she would never be anything special and he was going to be chief. Mother said her father was just as bad, ignoring her most of the time and treating Hennic like a little prince.
‘Anyway, it so happened that Chief Bodkin of Munbury (that’s our grandfather, in case you hadn’t worked it out) thought Mother would make a perfect wife for his son. Munbury was a bigger warren than Sparrowfast, and it was a good match. It also meant Mother would be Lady Enna and become just as important – if not more so – than Uncle Hennic. Chief Uthric was suddenly very proud of Mother then, and it put Hennic’s ears in a twist. He’s done everything he can to avoid her since. The two of them hate each other.’
Podkin thought of his sister and how they bickered most of the time. He’d never want them to end up hating each other, though. The idea of them not speaking, not always being together …
‘I’m sorry I was rude about you, Paz,’ he said. ‘We won’t ever fall out like that, will we?’
Paz looked down at her little brother and gave him a playful shove. ‘Not a chance, pipsqueak. We’re together forever, you and I.’
‘Pook! Pook!’ Their baby brother had been looking at them over the back of Yarrow’s shoulder and suddenly thought he was being left out.
‘And you, Pook,’ Podkin called to him. ‘You’ll always be with us too.’
*
It got dark very quickly in the depths of the forest. There were patches of sky above where the moon shone down and the first stars were beginning to shine. It must have been early evening but in between the trees it was getting hard to see. They lit a lantern and carried on for a while longer, but soon began to trip over roots and potholes. All except Crom who lived his whole life in the dark and seemed to have a sixth sense as to where to place his feet.
After Yarrow had stumbled for the tenth time, he gave a dramatic sigh and addressed the group. ‘For the sake of my poor toes and ankles, do you think we might be allowed to stop for the night? A meal and a slumber beneath the stars would be divine right about now.’
Crom seemed to be about to argue, but with all the other rabbits beginning to drop their packs, he didn’t have much choice. They found a clear spot beside the road and began to build a campfire.
‘Soop! Soop!’ Pook began shouting almost immediately. Vetch had a packful of cooking supplies and began chopping and preparing vegetables while Rill set up a tripod over the blossoming fire for the cooking pot. Pook sat close to the flames, watching everything with hungry eyes.
‘No soup for you, Pook,’ said Paz, drawing him away. ‘Brigid has given us some special carrot cakes.’
As Paz took the leaf-wrapped cakes from her backpack, Podkin came and joined them, ear pricked at the mention of Brigid’s name.
‘Carrot cakes? Why just for us?’
‘They have chamomile in,’ said Paz. ‘For a good night’s sleep and sweet dreams. She didn’t want us to be scared, sleeping out in the forest.’
Podkin wasn’t sure – the soup was starting to smell quite delicious – but he also didn’t want to turn down some of Brigid’s delicious treats. The three of them set upon the cakes as soon as they were unwrapped, with Pook eating two whole ones by himself. By the time the soup was ready for the others, all three little rabbits were wrapped in their blankets, huddled by the fireside with their eyes starting to close. It had been a long day.
CHAPTER FIVE
A Knife in the Night
Podkin was having a nightmare about forest spiders crawling inside his cloak. So much for sweet dreams, he thought to himself as he awoke, only to find the spider still there, legs rummaging at his tunic collar.
He screamed and sat bolt upright, scrabbling at his neck. The fire had died down, but was bright enough to give the clearing a dim orange glow. The ‘spider’ had left his throat now, and Podkin could see that it was actually a paw, one belonging to Vetch.
‘What’s wrong? What’s happening?’ Paz was awake now too, and Pook, who had been curled up with her. They both stared over at Podkin, Paz’s paw on the hilt of Ailfew.
‘Vetch?’ Podkin said. ‘What are you doing?’ The Golden Brook rabbit was hunched near him, firelight glinting on the coloured threads of his exotic cloak. There was a look in his eyes that Podkin hadn’t seen before: greedy, sly, dangerous. None of the others woke up when I screamed, Podkin realised. What has Vetch done to them?
‘Get away from Podkin, Vetch,’ said Paz, beginning to raise Ailfew. But the ginger-furred rabbit was quicker. He drew his cook’s knife and jumped at Podkin, seizing him by the ear and pressing the blade to Pod’s neck.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Vetch. ‘Put the sickle down. And if I see you trying to do your magic, I’ll cut your brother’s throat.’
Podkin could feel the edge of the knife. It was a thin, sharp line, already slicing his fur, lying hot against the pink skin underneath. Paz lowered Ailfew, but shifted Pook up on to her chest, ready to leap up with him if she had to.
‘What have you done to the others?’ she asked, her voice shaking. Crom, Yarrow and the rest were still huddled in their blankets, lifeless lumps in the firelight.
‘They’re asleep, I think.’ Vetch’s eyes twitched to and fro, his ears flicked and jittered. ‘Or dead. Who knows? I stole a sleeping potion from your know-all witch friend, but I had no idea how much to use. She didn’t see that coming, did she?’
Podkin felt like kicking himself. Crom had never trusted Vetch, but Podkin had wanted to give him a chance. If only he’d listened. If only he hadn’t been so worried about hurting the ginger rabbit’s feelings. ‘What do you want, Vetch?’ he managed to ask, despite the knife at his throat.
‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ Vetch said, sneering. ‘Your magic Gifts. All three of them. If you’d only eaten the soup, you’d be asleep too, and I could have taken them without any of this tiresome drama.’
‘But why?’ Paz asked. ‘We took you in. We trusted you.’
‘Oh yes.’ Vetch laughed. ‘Trusted me to work in the kitchens! Trusted me to be your pot-scrubbing slave! How very noble of you. Don’t you have any idea who I am?’
‘A sneaky traitor!’ Podkin shouted. ‘We should have left you for the Gorm!’
‘Shut up!’ Vetch pushed the knife harder against Podkin’s throat. He could feel a burning sting and a trickle of blood ran down inside his tunic. ‘You jumped-up little weasel! I am the heir to Golden Brook warren! In fact, as my father is probably dead himself, I am actually the chief. And you worthless bunch of rabble have had me peeling potatoes for you, when you should have been grovelling at my feet!’
‘Calm down,’ said Paz, her eyes not leaving the blade at Podkin’s throat. Pook was starting to whimper and she clutched him tighter. ‘There’s no need for shouting. Just tell us … are you working for the Gorm? Is that why you want the Gifts?’
Vetch laughed again. A crazy, broken, high-pitched noise. ‘What do you think? Of course I’m working for them! And I’m going to give your Gifts to Scramashank himself. We’ve made a deal. It’s a bargain you should have made yourselves, if you’d had any sense. Nobody can stop the Gorm. The world is theirs. Only the warrens that help them can hope to survive.’
‘But you’ve seen what they do,’ said Paz. ‘They’re not going to spare you. They’ll just take your warren, turn you into one of them.’
‘No, not Golden Brook,’ said Vetch. ‘Scramashank promised. He said he would spare it if we shared our riches with him and if we brought him one of the Gifts. I thought I might travel south to an ancient warren – offer to buy their Gift from them – when I fell in with Zarza and then you lot. And what should I find you had? Three of the Gifts! Three! And then you got the hammer too! Imagine what the Gorm will give me for this prize.’
‘You’re mad!’ Paz shouted. ‘You can’t trust them – they’re monsters!’
Vetch gave his crazed laugh again. ‘You silly little country rabbit! You don’t know anything about how the world works. You think they’re monsters just because they want something different to you. Have you ever tried talking to them? Have you ever thought about making a deal?’
‘Talk? They tried to kill us! Several times!’
Despite the knife at his throat, a horrible thought had occurred to Podkin. The Gorm chopping down the forest – why hadn’t they started further east or west? How had they known to begin their attack directly above Dark Hollow?
‘Have you been talking to your masters, Vetch?’ he managed to say. ‘Have you told them where we’re hiding?’
Vetch took his eyes off Paz for a moment to give Podkin a glare. It was a look of pure disgust, as if Pod were a pile of weasel dung at the end of his knife blade. ‘Of course I have. I’ve told them where your poky little warren is, how many of you there are … even what you’re planning to do with those three stupid arrows you’ve made.’
‘You two-faced ginger weasel!’ Paz couldn’t believe the depths this traitor rabbit had sunk to. ‘How did you even get a message out? How didn’t we know?’
‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ Vetch pushed his knife harder against Podkin’s neck then pulled something from his own tunic with his other hand. Looking up, Podkin could see a golden locket on a fine chain. When Vetch popped it open, there was a small glass vial inside. A vial that contained a sliver of Gorm iron, writhing like a worm on a fish hook. ‘They gave me a piece of their god,’ Vetch said, grinning and cackling. ‘Hidden inside gold so your stupid witch friend wouldn’t sense it. I thought she would, you know, every time she came near me. But they were right. They’re always right. Gold hides it, makes it quiet until it’s needed. They said I can open the locket and talk to the iron and they will hear me, and when they have the Gifts … oh, how happy they will be!’
All the whil
e Vetch had been talking, Podkin was frantically thinking. At the mention of Gifts he remembered his own. His blanket was too tangled about his body for him to reach Starclaw, but the moon brooch might work. He raised his head as high as he could and looked up through the trees, searching for a patch of sky. There was a glimpse, back where the road was, and sure enough, the moon could be seen. Would he be able to jump without hurting himself further on Vetch’s knife blade? He didn’t think so, but there wasn’t any other way out.
‘Enough talking now,’ Vetch said, sensing the little rabbits were playing for time. ‘Give me the Gifts and I promise not to hurt you. You can stay here until your friends wake up and then do whatever you want. Run to Sparrowfast, run to Thrianta. I don’t care.’
‘Bite my whiskers,’ Podkin said. He focused his will on the shadows cast by the campfire and pushed.
Blink.
There was a tilt in the world, and Podkin vanished from Vetch’s grip. He felt a sharp sting in his neck as he jumped, then he was out of his blankets, appearing in the shadows next to his sister looking back at Vetch, who just stood there, stunned. A thick drop of blood ran down his cook’s knife to plop on the forest floor.
‘Get up, Paz!’ Podkin shouted. ‘Run!’
His sister threw her blanket back towards Vetch, and then the three little rabbits were away, bursting out of the clearing, across the track and into the forest, once more running for their lives.
INTERLUDE
The bard pauses there, looking around at his audience, who he expects to be sitting forward in their seats, breath held, eyes popping. The bonedancers haven’t moved a whisker. Three hundred pairs of cold eyes stare back at him like glass beads in a set of very creepy statues.
Rue, however, has practically tied his ears in knots. He presses his hands together and mouths words at the bard: Don’t stop there! Don’t stop!
The Beasts of Grimheart Page 4