‘Are you ready to continue?’ Sythica asks him, her voice echoing around the chamber.
‘I am,’ says the bard. His voice wobbles only slightly.
‘Before you do,’ Sythica interrupts. ‘I have a question. Something we were discussing over lunch.’
‘Yes?’
‘You said in your story that Paz discovered tribes had female chiefs, long before the tradition of first sons became the norm.’
‘She did.’
‘Naturally, as a female order, this is very interesting to us. But we thought Chief Thorn-Singer was the first rabbit to break the old custom.’
‘She was,’ says the bard. ‘Paz is – I mean she became – Chief Thorn-Singer. Much later on than this tale, of course.’
Sythica nods, taking this in. ‘Impressive,’ she says. ‘She would have made a good bonedancer.’
‘Many people thought so,’ says the bard.
‘Did they now?’ Sythica’s eyes twinkle as she snaps up his comment. ‘You seem to know an awful lot about all this. Are you sure it is just one of your stories?’
The bard blinks for a moment, wondering whether to tell them that he is, or was, Pook Lopkinson, brother of Paz and Podkin. He decides not to: always best to save your plot twists for the end, he reminds himself. Besides, that could be a useful piece of information should they decide to turn him into weasel food.
‘A story, yes,’ he says. ‘Some might say a legend. But every legend has a fragment of truth in it. This one more so as I have researched it very carefully and kept it as close to the real events as I can.’
‘Very well,’ says Sythica. It sounds as though she is smiling behind her mask. ‘Please continue. Truefang’s pack had just agreed to help Podkin, had they not?’
‘They had,’ says the bard. ‘And they were not the only ones.’
CHAPTER TEN
Scramashank Rides Out
Once Truefang and his wolves had accompanied the rabbits back to Hern’s Holt, Rake told them of two other packs that lived in the Grimwode. He was sure they also would want to join the growing forest army.
Over the next two days, Podkin travelled to meet them, each time using Starclaw to nick one of his fingers and offer blood to the packs’ alpha wolves, Deadeye and Nightclaw. One lick, and they shared his mind, just as Truefang had done. Both packs knew of the Gorm and were filled with a deep, snarling hatred for them that went back to the days when Gormalech surrounded the Grimwode with his seething metal body.
With Truefang’s greys, Deadeye’s black wolves and Nightclaw’s brown furs fully assembled, Podkin and Paz decided it was best to head for Sparrowfast. Crom would be there, maybe also their mother, by now. Their Uncle Hennic was bound to be impressed with their new troops, and would definitely let them have the bow. With that, and all the soldier rabbits they could muster, surely they stood a good chance against the Gorm?
Podkin prayed that they did.
With a final, howling farewell to the Grimwode, the children, the Wardens and over sixty hulking, sabre-toothed wolves headed out.
They filled the gaps between the trees as they marched: a weaving sea of fur and glowing eyes. In Podkin’s head three voices babbled, showing him gleaming twines of scent and relaying every tiny noise from miles around. It was too much information at first, until he learned to channel the flow. He pictured doors closing in his head, allowing him to control which wolf he shared minds with. Even so, it was a sensation he could not get used to. Most of the time he kept the Blodcrun horns stored safely in his pack and his thoughts nice and secret, just the way he liked them.
The Wardens marched in the middle of their wolfish escort, Podkin and Paz amongst them. Pook had taken a shine to Truefang and, to Podkin’s surprise, the alpha wolf let Pook ride on his back. The little rabbit sat on the wolf’s shoulders, clutching handfuls of grey hair and raising his tiny nose to the sky to howl every now and then.
‘I a wolf! I a wolf!’ he kept shouting.
The whole throng headed down through the forest, using tracks that the Wardens seemed to know well. As they moved further from the Grimwode, the trees became smaller and smaller, until they looked almost spindly. How strange, Podkin thought. When we first came into the forest, every tree seemed massive to me. Now these ordinary ones look like tiny copies of what they should be.
The journey took them three days and two nights, which they spent camping in clearings with springs of fresh water running nearby. The Wardens slept on the forest floor under their cloaks, but they brought a small tent for Podkin, Paz and Pook to sleep in. Podkin wasn’t surprised to wake each morning and find that Pook had crawled out to lie next to Truefang, curled up under the big wolf’s paw, amongst the litter of chewed bones from deer that the wolves had hunted in the night.
‘You really shouldn’t do that, Pook,’ he told his brother. ‘That wolf might wake up in the night, fancying a snack, and forget that you’re supposed to be his friend.’
‘I wolf!’ Pook replied, pretending to chew on a bone.
By dawn on the third day, they were creeping past the tiny warren of Stumphaven, the wolves flowing over its mound and past its entrance doors on silent, padded paws. Luckily, the rabbits were all fast asleep inside and had no idea a sea of predators was washing over their heads as they dreamt.
From there it was only a few hours’ march along the forest edge to Silverock. And beyond that a clear run to Sparrowfast, if Podkin remembered the maps they had studied in Dark Hollow correctly.
As they neared the mound of Silverock, Podkin started to grow more and more excited at the thought of seeing his friends again. Would they be at Sparrowfast, expecting them? Or would they think them dead? Would Mother be there yet? What would she do when she found out they had let Pook make best friends with something that could eat him in one bite?
*
The day that Grimheart forest woke and sent its army out to war is a story that will be passed down from rabbit to rabbit through generations.
It was the seventh day that Podkin, Paz and Pook had been missing. Crom and the others had spent two days following Vetch’s trail, only to lose it at the very edge of the forest.
Not knowing what to do, they had headed for the nearest warren, Silverock, and asked the chieftain for help.
Chief Agbert had been very understanding. He let them stay, and even helped them to run daily search parties into the forest. The children’s mother and the main party of Dark Hollow rabbits had also arrived, a day ago now, and learnt the terrible news. Everyone, except for Brigid, was in a state of shock, thinking they would never see the little ones again. The mission to Sparrowfast was completely forgotten, and then word came that Chief Hennic’s rabbits were coming to them. The entire warren.
The little messenger bird that had brought the news had only a tiny piece of parchment. Help us. We are fleeing, it had said. The Gorm are here.
Wondering what it meant, Chief Agbert had summoned the whole warren, along with the recent arrivals from Dark Hollow. The entire group of rabbits were gathered outside the entrance gates, ready to welcome Sparrowfast, when a shout went up.
‘The north! Look to the north!’
The rabbits all turned their heads to where the deep, green cloud of Grimheart forest stretched into the horizon. There, pouring from the forest’s edge, was a sight fit for the most bizarre of legends. Wolves, huge ones, fanged ones: sixty or more in every shade of grey, brown and black.
At first the rabbits rubbed their eyes and shook their heads. Then they started to scream and wail. Then they noticed something else amongst the tide of fur and teeth: giant, horned figures striding towards them with sweeping cloaks made of leaves, webs and brambles.
‘It’s the Beast of Grimheart!’ a shout went up. ‘The Beast and all his family and a whole load of giant wolves!’ The rabbit warriors of Silverock and Dark Hollow drew their weapons and tried to form a shield wall. It was tricky as most of them were still staring, mouths gaping open.
Amongs
t the army of wolves and beasts, Pook was riding on Truefang’s back. Podkin and Paz were running beside to keep up.
‘Podkin, look!’ Paz shouted over the panting, growling din of the superpack. ‘There’s a whole load of rabbits outside Silverock!’
‘What are they doing?’ Podkin called back. He could see the warren mound of Silverock, the rows and rows of wooden beehives in their neat little fenced enclosures and, by the entrance doors, a crowd of rabbits that looked as if they were all about to have a heart attack at the same time.
‘I don’t know,’ Paz replied. ‘Some kind of ceremony, looks like. Put your crown on!’
‘Why?’ Podkin said.
‘It’ll look amazing!’ Paz grinned at him, and he found himself grinning back.
They’ll think we’re some kind of wild hunt from the forest, he thought, pulling the crown on to his head. I’m going to be part of a real-life fairy tale! His excitement instantly transmitted to the three alphas who howled, setting off all sixty wolves.
‘Awwooo!’ Pook shouted beside them, making them laugh. The next thing Podkin knew, Deadeye, the black-furred pack leader, was behind him, scooping him up with his nose and flipping him up to ride on his shoulders like Pook. Nightclaw, the other alpha, did the same to Paz. The three of them pulled ahead of the pack, leading the throng, all of them waving and cheering at the startled rabbits before them.
It was Yarrow who spotted the little rabbits first, just as the Silverock warriors were getting ready with their spears. ‘It’s Podkin!’ he yelled. ‘And Paz and Pook! Look, there! Riding on the wolves!’
Podkin’s mother, standing with Chief Agbert, let out a shriek. The other Dark Hollow rabbits peered closer, then began to cheer. Instead of running in terror from the approaching wolves, they started dancing and shouting. The Silverock rabbits didn’t know what to do. Swords and spears were lowered, but not too much, and they stood back as all the rabbits of Dark Hollow rushed to meet the new arrivals: Podkin, Paz and Pook, wolf riders, lords of the forest.
And all the time Brigid stood quietly watching, a smile on her face, alongside Yarrow the bard, who had both paws clutched to his head, frantically trying to remember every single tiny detail of the best homecoming scene a bard could ever hope for.
*
After the three little rabbits had been thoroughly hugged, kissed and cried over by everyone, the Wardens were introduced, as were the wolves. Lady Enna, usually so strong and commanding, kept hugging Podkin, Paz and Pook and sobbing into their fur. She had been certain she would never see her children again, despite Brigid’s many reassurances.
Tansy quietly took her off for a drink of chamomile tea and a cuddle with Pook. The others gathered around Podkin and Paz, who told their tale of the last few days, with help from Mo Grim. Once they had finished, and after a long round of applause, Crom revealed what had happened to the rest of the party.
‘We woke late afternoon, with our heads all groggy and spinning,’ he said. ‘As soon as we realised you were gone, we started to search the forest. We found your tracks straight away, then the blood. We trailed it into the forest, but it suddenly disappeared. All we could find were Vetch’s paw marks, heading south. We thought he might be carrying you somehow – nothing else made sense – so we followed them. We lost his trail in the forest around Stumphaven, damn his treacherous ginger hide. And we’ve been searching the forest for you ever since. We never even made it to Sparrowfast.’
There was much cursing and growling about Vetch and what everyone wanted to do to him. Most of it wasn’t suitable for young ears, so Brigid drew Podkin and Paz aside. She hugged them both, tears in her eyes.
‘I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘I knew you would get lost along the way. I knew it would lead you to another Gift. But I had no idea Vetch would try to harm you. If I had, I would never have let you go.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Paz, hugging her back. ‘If it hadn’t happened, we would never have met Mo Grim, and we wouldn’t have the wolves on our side.’
‘Yes,’ said Podkin. ‘It was worth it in the end. Although it was a bit scary at the time.’
‘Nothing that brings harm to you is worth it,’ said Brigid, crying again. ‘It’s not fair for you to face these things so young. Sometimes I wonder—’
But what she wondered was never said, as another shout went up. A second crowd of rabbits had appeared, marching in lines towards them from the west.
‘What now?’ Yarrow muttered. ‘I’ve only just memorised the thirty-five different shades of wolf fur. I can’t be expected to deal with anything else. It’s giving me a migraine.’
Ignoring the moaning bard, Podkin shadowed his eyes with a paw and squinted to see what was approaching. His first horrible thought was that it might be Gorm – he had no idea that the Silverock rabbits were expecting anybody – but Crom soon put his mind at rest.
‘It’s your uncle, Podkin. The rabbits from Sparrowfast are coming. Fleeing the Gorm, we think. We were here to welcome them.’
It all made sense to Podkin now. He had thought it a little unusual that everyone was there as they poured out of the forest, but then with Brigid around you never knew …
He watched as the Sparrowfast rabbits drew nearer. They marched in orderly columns of warriors with ash spears and long shields, painted sky-blue with flocks of black sparrows silhouetted across them. The soldiers were followed by three large wagons stacked with barrels, crates and sacks, and another covered in wooden birdcages. The fluttering shapes of hundreds of tiny sparrows could be seen inside: the messenger birds that their warren was famous for.
The wagons were followed by the rest of the Sparrowfast rabbits, marching with their life’s belongings carried in sacks on their backs and heads. The whole procession was led by a very important-looking rabbit mounted on a giant rat. Both were clad in panels of sky-blue leather armour and strutted with great authority.
As they got closer, Podkin could see the rider had the same sandy-brown fur as his mother, and the same piercing green eyes. Those eyes that could pin you with a glare that made you want to cry and apologise, even if you hadn’t done anything wrong.
Across his lap he carried an enormous wooden bow carved all over with whorls and spirals. Soulshot, Podkin realised. The sacred Gift of Sparrowfast warren.
Podkin watched as his Uncle Hennic rode up and surveyed his welcome party.
There were wolves everywhere: lounging on the warren mound, chasing each other through the meadows and cocking their legs up against the beehives. Some curled up together for a welcome nap, some stared at the newcomers with undisguised hunger in their wild eyes.
The rabbits of Silverock and Dark Hollow were clustered in groups around each of the Wardens, trying to communicate with gestures and shouts. Lady Enna was in a heap of skirts by the warren entrance, being given tea and trying to stop Pook marking his territory up against the doorway. The only rabbits who had even noticed Hennic arrive were Podkin, Paz, Crom and Yarrow, who was trying to count just how many spearmen there were whilst memorising the exact shade of blue they had on their shields.
The chaos of the whole scene did not seem to impress Uncle Hennic. He took a good look around, his eyes seeming to glow greener with every heartbeat. He scowled so hard Podkin could almost hear the blood throbbing in his head. Finally, he reached up to remove his helmet and then bellowed in a voice that made every set of ears – both wolf and rabbit – twitch to attention.
‘What, in the name of the Goddess herself, is this sorry shambles?’ He raised the magic bow and gestured at the mass of bodies before him. ‘Did you fools not get my message? Do you not know what it means? The Gorm are upon us, you idiots! Scramashank himself has ridden out! Did you hear me?’
He took a deep breath, stood up in his stirrups and bellowed again in a voice that echoed to the forest trees and back.
‘Call the warrens! Summon a council! Scramashank rides out!’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Quarrel
�
�Summon a council!’ Chief Agbert echoed, and there was an instant rush of rabbits trying to do several things at once.
It took until early evening for everyone to get organised enough to call a proper ‘council of the tribes’. Podkin, with Rake’s help, had to try and tell the wolves that there would be no fighting yet, and that the two-legged, long-eared creatures needed to talk first. For beasts that had no idea of talking, or of waiting anything more than a few minutes to do something, this was harder than anyone could have imagined. Finally the alpha wolves led their packs off into the forest to hunt. Podkin hoped they would remember to return.
The Sparrowfast rabbits scrabbled to put up marquees and tents outside the warren entrance. They all seemed to be very worried about their cargo of sparrows, which were upset by the upheaval. Special bird handlers fed them worms and plump grubs, while a bard with a harp played soothing music to calm them down.
The rest of the rabbits all squeezed themselves into the Silverock longburrow.
It was a large chamber, in the centre of which was a gigantic granite boulder laced throughout with seams of pure silver. The rock that was uncovered by the first rabbits to dig here and from which they had taken the name of their warren.
Lucky for them it was silver they found, and not a piece of Gormalech-possessed iron, Podkin thought, remembering the tale of Sandywell, the warren that had become the Gorm’s home.
Curved tables surrounded the rock, with the chief’s throne at the far end, next to a great stone fireplace. The walls were hung with tapestries, all seeming to be of bees and beehives, celebrating the honey mead that the warren was famous for.
The Beasts of Grimheart Page 9