Podkin made a contented sound and then the big rabbit offered the flask to Paz. She had been watching his every move, trying to identify the herbs and plants he was using, but eagerly took the bottle and had a swallow or two before Pook snatched it from her paws and started trying to guzzle the whole lot. The giant rabbit laughed, a rumble that sounded like a landslide of boulders, and gently pulled it from the baby rabbit’s grip.
He started to put away his things before pulling out some of the glowing moss and wrapping it about the top of his staff. It lit the forest around them like a lantern.
‘Kommen yon, du Grimwode,’ he said, standing and pointing deeper into the forest. He made beckoning motions with the staff, inviting them to follow.
‘You want us to come with you?’ Paz asked. She looked back the way they had come, although there was nothing to be seen but twisted tree trunks and darkness. ‘We can’t come. Our friends are back there …’
‘Kommen yon,’ said the rabbit, gesturing again.
‘Crom,’ Podkin tried to say, but his numb mouth made it sound like more of a gurgle.
‘Yes, Crom,’ said Paz. ‘Crom and the others. We can’t leave them. There’s Vetch, and the wolf, and we don’t know if they’ll wake up …’
‘Kommen yon.’ This time it was more of a statement. The giant rabbit reached down and scooped up Podkin as if he were a rag doll. In fact, that was pretty much what he felt like. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried. Pook scrambled up the giant’s arm too, leaving Paz with no choice but to follow.
‘We really shouldn’t,’ she tried to object, but what else could be done? If the giant left them, the wolf might return. Even if it didn’t, it would be impossible to find their way back to the camp in the dark. Or even in the daytime, assuming they could survive on their own until then. They would have to go with this strange rabbit, find out what he wanted, and then try to return to the others somehow, when it was safe.
Podkin would probably have agreed but he was fast asleep by then, being rocked back and forth like a kitten in its cradle as the giant rabbit strode through the forest, cupping him and Pook in the crook of his arm.
*
All through the rest of the night, the rabbit walked, with Paz trotting along beside him. Every time she stumbled, or had to stop and catch her breath, the giant rabbit gave her a drink from the flask and she felt instantly refreshed, as if she had just jumped out of bed after a good night’s sleep.
They marched and marched, deeper into the forest than Paz could have imagined, every step taking them further away from their friends. Despite his enormous size, the giant made almost no noise as he moved. The branches and roots seemed to part before him, closing up again to leave no trace of his passing. Paz looked at the ground more than once to see if they were leaving tracks that Crom and Yarrow might be able to follow, but there were none. This creature was like a part of the forest itself, she realised. It cloaked him and hid him as if he were some kind of living, moving tree.
Every now and then there was a rustle in the woods around them. Paz thought of that colossal wolf. Could it be following them? Maybe there were others … a whole pack? But with the giant rabbit beside her, she somehow knew there was nothing to fear. He showed no alarm, no matter how close the noises came. And even if the wolf did attack, the stranger would probably make short work of it. The wolfskin on his back was proof of that.
After they had been walking for Goddess-knew how long, dawn started to break around them. Birdsong came first, followed by a gradual lightening of the shadows. From his cosy perch in the giant rabbit’s arms, Podkin began to stir and look about. He gave Paz a weak smile and the pair of them watched the forest begin to change as they moved deeper and deeper into its heart.
The first thing they noticed were the trees. They grew steadily thicker and taller, each bigger than the last, until they were walking amongst enormous towering trunks with roots higher than Paz’s head. Oaks, cedars and elms, each one must have been older than all the trees around Dark Hollow put together. Their great size meant lots of space in between them on the forest floor, with swooping branches leaning down over their heads to make green-lit canopies. Twining patterns of dawn light danced over the soft, spongy earth.
Thick moss was everywhere, wrapping the roots and climbing up the trunks. It reminded Podkin of green snow, shrouding everything and softening it into lumps and mounds. The overhanging branches were also cloaked in lichen. It hung down between the leaves like shaggy locks of green, blue and white hair. It flecked the enormous trunks of the trees like a painter had gone mad with a thousand brushes.
The air was full of glistening specks. Floating seeds, insects, motes of this and that. Everything moved lazily, as if the moments were passing slower here. The whole place felt ancient – older than time – but so packed with life. More than any other wood or forest Podkin had been in. He breathed deeply of the cool, pure scent: smelling the sap, the leaves, the drifts of humus on the floor. It refreshed him, filled him with peace after the terrifying events of the night before.
‘It’s so old here, Paz,’ he whispered, not wanting to disturb the slow hum of living, growing things around them.
His sister nodded. ‘I knew Grimheart was ancient, but I never imagined anything like this,’ she replied.
‘Yar bist du Grimwode,’ said the giant rabbit, the first sound he’d made since picking Podkin up. He pointed straight ahead to where the trunks of the thickest trees yet stood. Wide enough to fit whole warrens inside, it was hard to imagine something living could be so big. The giant pointed and spoke again. ‘Hern’s Holt.’
It seemed as though they had arrived at their destination.
*
The enormous trees had grown in a circle. Their lowest branches were all at least twenty metres up the trunks, creating a wide open space in between. Looking up through the clouds of greenery, there was even a circle of blue sky visible, lighting up the clearing with a hazy yellow glow.
The ground in between was vivid green, every inch covered in tides of moss. A small stream trickled through the middle, gathering in a pool where the shadows of large fish swam in lazy circles. There were lumps and bumps scattered all around the clearing. Objects under the mossy covering, like a giant version of toy wood blocks beneath a carpet. Some were quite large, some wrapped in roots or ivy. All were strangely formed: angles and lines clashed with the gentle natural shapes around them.
It took Podkin a while to realise they were ruins. Leftover stone structures from the time of the Ancients, like the pillars of Boneroot or the stone tomb at Applecross. One in particular was very large. It looked like some kind of tower with the roof missing. There were four walls, each with an empty, circular gap at the top, where something important had once sat. Windows, maybe? Sculptures or icons? Did the Ancients have gods like the rabbits did? There was no way of knowing, and Podkin was filled with the same mixture of curiosity and sadness that he felt whenever he came across evidence of that lost, forgotten world. It was gone forever now. Almost swallowed completely by time and the growth of the forest around it.
Pulling his eyes away from the mossy tower, Podkin noticed the mouth of a large tunnel at its base. A thick curtain of ivy hung down, almost hiding it, but something was moving there. Could that be the entrance to the giant rabbit’s burrow?
As if in answer, the ivy parted, and another huge rabbit emerged. Pook gave a squeal of excitement, but both Podkin and Paz tensed. This was when they found out whether the new rabbits were truly friendly, or if they had just been harvested for dinner.
The new rabbit walked up from the tunnel into the clearing, and waved. It called out something in a mixture of hoots, clicks and barks, which their rescuer replied to. It was nothing like the language they had heard him use before. It sounded like a blend of all the different sounds of the forest: bird calls, fox yaps and the creaking of trees mixed together.
Hopping over the stream, they made for the burrow. The two giant rabbits reached
out to clasp arms and the new one blinked in surprise when it saw Podkin, Paz and Pook. It bent down to examine them closer, and rumbled out a laugh when Pook reached up to tweak its nose.
This one was dressed differently to the one who had saved them. Instead of fur, its cloak was made of leaves of all shapes, sizes and colours. It had horns on either side of its head too, but when Podkin looked closely, he could see they were made of branches rather than antlers. It had the same broad nose and heavy brow, and those deep, kindly brown eyes, but this one seemed older than the other. It was a little hunched and leaned more on the thick wooden staff it carried. It had long eyelashes, and a softer, higher voice, making Podkin think it was female.
The two giants spoke for a few moments in their sing-song forest language, and then turned to head down the tunnel into their warren. Paz hung back a second, looking up at Podkin and Pook, both clutched in the fur-clad rabbit’s arms. Even though going down beneath the ground didn’t seem like the best of ideas (no escape without hard digging, nowhere to run to), she didn’t have a choice. With a silent prayer to the Goddess she hurried after them.
*
The tunnel sloped downwards quite steeply. It was just bare earth, nothing like the tiled and decorated entrances of other rabbit warrens. Clay oil lamps and candles had been placed in hollowed alcoves here and there, and every now and then there was the glimpse of a gigantic root, poking out of the mud wall.
Down, down they went, until they came to a set of doors standing wide open. No guards or sentries, Podkin thought. But then who knew all this was hidden here? Had any rabbit ever even been this far into the forest?
They stepped through the doors, and Podkin and Paz both gasped.
They had emerged into a wide, almost circular chamber. In an instant it was clear to see that the whole place was another part of the Ancients’ ruins above. The walls were made of carved stone, cracked and worn by time. Overhead was a ceiling of arches, and the floor was tiled in patterns, with a large eight-pointed star in the centre.
Roots had broken through all over, but they were trained and tended so that they flowed alongside the stonework, helping to support it. There were even one or two statues remaining. These must have been of the Ancients themselves. They were so old it was difficult to make them out, but Podkin could recognise the tall earless beings he had seen carved in the tomb on Ancients’ Island, with their long, spidery fingers, small eyes and funny-shaped noses.
Arched doorways led off in different directions. The giants headed through one of them and down a corridor into a broad chamber.
This room had walls of wood panels, leading up to a row of stone-carved windows that had once looked out on some long-forgotten view. The ceiling was now a mat of roots, which had poured in through every available gap. The whole scene was lit by clumps of that glowing blue moss, which grew in luminous sprawls all over the broken woodwork, making the whole place seem odd and alien.
As did its inhabitants: more giant rabbits – six or seven at least – all wearing horns and cloaks of different kinds. They were gathered in small groups, talking or making things. When the rabbits carrying Podkin and Pook entered, they stopped and went over to look at the tiny newcomers. Podkin clutched Pook and made himself as small as possible. Paz tried to hide behind the giant rabbit’s fur cloak.
From amongst the crowd of new giants, one stepped forward and peered at Podkin. This one, a female, had a patchwork cloak and the enormous antlers of some unknown breed of deer or elk on her head. She spoke in hoots and whistles, to which the wolf-furred rabbit replied. There was much pointing and miming, and Podkin couldn’t help but wonder if they were discussing which spices went best with small rabbit, and what the cooking times might be.
Finally, the elk-horned one crouched low, bringing herself to eye-level with Podkin and Pook.
‘Spakk Gott?’ she asked. When Pod and Pook just blinked back, she tried again. ‘Speak Lanic?’
‘Speak?’ Podkin said. ‘Umm … yes?’
‘She’s asking what language we speak, ferret-brain!’ Paz hissed at him from where she was hiding. ‘Tell her we speak Lanic. Tell her we understand!’
‘Speak Lanic,’ the rabbit said again, this time a statement. ‘Good. I speak it too. I am Mo Grim. I am chief here. Welcome to Hern’s Holt. Welcome to the Grimwode.’
A wash of relief spread over Podkin as he realised there was a chance of talking sense to these rabbits. They would be able to find out where they were and what the giants wanted with them. They (probably) weren’t going to be gobbled up like kittens in a fairy tale.
‘Ask her what the Grimwode is,’ Paz said, thinking the same thing. ‘Ask her how we get home!’ The big rabbit laughed and put out a paw to Paz. ‘Come,’ she said. ‘Come sit with us and we talk.’
The giant rabbits formed a circle and Podkin, Paz and Pook were gently shepherded to the centre. Their hosts went about fetching food and drink, while one approached Podkin and, with gestures of its hands, got him to show his neck wound. There was some hooting and clicking in their language, and more pots of cream and herbs were brought. As Chief Mo Grim began to speak, Podkin was gently cared for.
‘We welcome you,’ she said again. ‘Not many rabbits come here. None since Shade. Many, many years ago. He taught some of us your words, your languages. Gott from Gotland and Lanic, the common tongue.’
‘Shade the Cursed!’ Paz whispered to Podkin. He had been the chieftain of Dark Hollow generations ago. It was him who had buried Moonfyre, the brooch that Podkin now wore, before leaving his warren Giftless and doomed as punishment for not respecting the forest. The mystery of where he had gone was now solved.
‘We found him lost in Grimheart. He lived with us until his death, and his knowledge is passed on.’
‘Who are you?’ Paz asked. ‘What is this place?’
‘The Grimwode,’ said Mo Grim, smiling. ‘This is the oldest part, the heart of the forest. The Ancients planted it themselves, even as their world was being eaten by Gormalech. Its roots are deep, and protected from that evil thing. The Ancients left Hern here to keep it safe.’
Mo Grim ran a paw across the floor she sat on, protective, affectionate.
‘Once, Gormalech covered all land and sea with its poison metal body, but not the Grimwode. The trees still grew, the forest was still green. When the goddesses returned and sent Gormalech under the ground, the Grimwode gave birth to the rest of the forest. All life came from here.’
‘Have you been here since then?’ Podkin asked. The rabbit that was tending him had finished now. The cut on his neck didn’t hurt as much; in fact he could barely feel anything except a lovely, relaxing tingling all over.
Mo Grim laughed. ‘No, we are not that old! Our distant grandmothers and grandfathers found this place once the forest had grown all around. Hern led them here and made them his Wardens. Since then we have guarded the forest and cared for it. One Warden for each part.’
‘Part of what?’ asked Paz.
‘The forest,’ said Mo Grim. She began to point at the other rabbits to introduce them. ‘Rake is the one who found you. He tends the wolves and bears. Vendra met you at the door. Hers are the plants. There is Bole, tree Warden. That one is Chitna of the insects, and Vian of the birds. Cob there wards the spiders and Litherus the reptiles. The little one is Pocka. He is only a baby but he will grow to care for the mushrooms and toadstools.’
The last rabbit she pointed at was already nearly the size of Paz but was sitting at the edge of the circle, playing with some carved wooden dolls and smiling shyly at Pook. All of this, thought Podkin, hidden away since time began. The secret realm of the forest god.
‘Is Hern here?’ Podkin asked, looking around the chamber. If a god suddenly stepped into the room, he probably wouldn’t be that surprised, the way this day was going.
‘Hern is everywhere,’ said Mo Grim. ‘He is the Grimwode, and the forest of Grimheart. Everything in it belongs to him.’
‘Hmm,’ said Paz, ears
twitching in thought. ‘Brigid told us that the goddesses found the world and decided to trick it from Gormalech. But you’re saying Hern was here all along?’
‘Yes,’ said Mo Grim. ‘He was here through all the many centuries of Gormalech’s rage. Safe within the Grimwode’s protection. The goddesses didn’t just find this place. They once lived here too, in the time of the Ancients, before they all had to flee. Hern called them back from the stars when the time was right, when the power of Gormalech had ebbed a little with age. And when they had beaten the evil one below ground, he took them to the secret tomb to claim the magic force the Ancients had left for them. Only we forest Wardens know this part of the tale. It was told to us by Hern himself.’
‘A secret tomb?’ said Podkin. ‘Was it on an island?’
‘Yes,’ said Mo Grim. ‘Hidden deep underneath.’
‘I bet that’s where we found the hammer, Pod,’ said Paz. ‘I knew that place had been built to hold something special.’
‘That hammer was made from the magic force,’ Mo Grim said. ‘And the other Gifts. The goddesses took the force and crafted it for rabbits to wield. But you know this already. Rake says you have some of the Gifts yourselves.’
At mention of this, both Podkin and Paz moved their paws to protect their treasures. Not that they would be able to stop even one of the giant rabbits from taking them.
‘Do not worry,’ said Mo Grim, chuckling again. ‘Your Gifts are safe. We have old stories that told us you would be coming here one day.’
‘Us? Coming here?’ Podkin looked around, wondering how a tiny thing like him could have anything to do with such an ancient, marvellous place.
‘Yes. The Gift-Bearers,’ said Mo Grim, drawing nods and bows from the other Wardens. ‘The stories say you will come when the forest needs you. That we must take you to the Oakhenge.’
The Beasts of Grimheart Page 6