The Beasts of Grimheart

by Kieran Larwood

  Chief Agbert took his place on his throne, flanked by Chief Hennic and Lady Enna (with Pook cradled on her lap). Other rabbits pushed and shoved, trying to sit as close to the leaders as possible. Podkin found himself herded around the circle until he was next to Paz and Crom, about twenty seats from his mother.

  There was a tense atmosphere, with each tribe giving the other stares and wary glances. A crackling, brooding energy, just like the air before a thunderstorm. Maybe this is why the tribes don’t come together very often, Podkin thought.

  He looked at the smart Sparrowfast rabbits in their blue and black armour, the rich, proud Silverocks and the rag-tag, half-starved mismatches of Dark Hollow. Where would the first quarrel come from? His mother and her brother, Hennic, were both staring straight ahead, brows furrowed, mouths set. Podkin thought he might have a good idea of the answer to that question.

  ‘Everyone keeps looking at us funny,’ Paz whispered to him. ‘They don’t think we should be this close to the chieftains.’

  Podkin looked to the far end of the hall where some little tables had been set out for the children. Most of them looked about the same age as him, some were even older. The other rabbits probably thought they were naughty kittens who had wandered away from their given places.

  ‘You stay where you are,’ said Crom, guessing Podkin’s thoughts. ‘You have as much right to be here as any other rabbit.’ He stretched his arm around Podkin and Paz, and put on his fiercest warrior stare. All the rabbits that had been glaring at them seemed to suddenly look away.

  ‘Thanks, Crom,’ Podkin whispered.

  Chief Agbert stood up and cleared his throat.

  ‘Welcome, all, to Silverock. Our home is your home, and please forgive the crush. We are not used to hosting so many visitors at once. This whole gathering has been very … unexpected.’ His eyes lingered on the forest Wardens, who were taking up a whole table to themselves, squatting on chairs that looked as though they were about to snap into splinters under their weight.

  There was a polite ripple of applause from everyone gathered, and then he continued.

  ‘This, however, is not a social event. The threat of the Gorm has reached our side of the forest and we are all in danger. Our neighbours at Sparrowfast warren have been attacked – as have many others here, I know – but seeing as the Gorm are currently in his warren, perhaps Chief Hennic would like to speak to us all first?’

  Hennic had clearly been expecting this and stood instantly, clearing his throat. Podkin couldn’t help noticing his mother roll her eyes.

  ‘Thank you, Chief Agbert, for your hospitality and aid. Sparrowfast will not forget your kindness.

  ‘It is true, as you say. We have been attacked. Two days ago we received a sparrow from Oakbud Hollow, a small warren to the west of us. They said a Gorm force had been spotted marching at full speed around the forest edge. We sent out a scouting party immediately. Only one of them returned.’

  Hennic pointed a finger to the edge of the longburrow where a wounded rabbit sat hunched in a chair, his head and left arm covered in bandages.

  ‘He told of a large force: two hundred Gorm warriors and riders. Amongst them was a tall rabbit with a helmet of crooked horns – Scramashank himself – and another upon a black rat. A witch-rabbit who wielded a magic staff that could call down lightning from the sky. She blew our scouting party to bits in seconds.’

  At the mention of Scramashank, the whole longburrow shuddered, but when Hennic described the witch, Podkin felt Crom clutch his hand tight. The blind warrior had even begun to tremble: just a tiny jitter, but Podkin could feel it through his paw, and it was growing.

  Podkin looked up at Crom’s face, wondering what Hennic had said that could have affected him so. Then he remembered Crom’s tale about how he had lost his sight. Hadn’t that been at the hands of a witch-rabbit? Hadn’t she used some kind of lightning magic as well?

  ‘We knew they were heading for us,’ Hennic continued. ‘We knew we couldn’t fight them on our own. We took the impossible decision of leaving our warren and running. Our beautiful home …’

  The Sparrowfast rabbits all hung their heads. Some of them began to sob; others wiped tears from their eyes.

  ‘But with your help, we might stand a chance. With Silverock beside us, we can fight back. Destroy the Gorm once and for all …’

  There was a murmur around the longburrow, along with quite a few shaking heads. The rabbits of Silverock didn’t sound too keen on that plan, and Podkin couldn’t help noticing Hennic hadn’t even mentioned Dark Hollow.

  ‘Chief Hennic, thank you.’ Agbert stood and nodded at the other chieftain, waiting for him to sit down. Hennic glared, and for a moment Podkin thought he was going to ignore his host, but finally he took his seat again, growling as he did so.

  ‘We have heard the tragic tale of Sparrowfast,’ said Agbert, ‘and you have our sympathy. But we also have another warren here, along with their … um … allies. Lady Enna. Would you care to speak before the council?’

  Podkin bit his lip as his mother got up. She was still weak and scarred by her ordeal at the hands of the Gorm, but she stood as proud as ever – a gleam in her eye that easily matched Hennic’s.

  She handed Pook to Auntie Olwyn, who was sitting behind her, and turned back to the longburrow.

  ‘I am Lady Enna, once of Munbury warren,’ she said. Her voice rang out clearly, making even the children at the back of the hall look up. ‘Our home there was taken, my husband … killed. Since then we have been living in the forest, in Dark Hollow warren. We have no chief at the moment but have chosen a council of war.’ She waved a paw to indicate the seats where Podkin, Paz, Crom, Rill and Dodge were sitting. ‘And they have asked me to speak for them.

  ‘Like Sparrowfast … my brother’s … warren, we have come asking for help. We are also fighting the Gorm, but through a different means to battle.

  ‘As you might have seen earlier, my son and daughter have brought with them the forces of the forest. They did this because they have been chosen by the Goddess herself – and Hern too, it would seem – to defeat their ancient enemy.’

  A murmur of wonder rippled through the hall at this. Ears and eyes twitched in Podkin’s direction and he blushed under his fur. He felt rather than saw Paz straighten her shoulders beside him. His mother waited a few moments for quiet before continuing.

  ‘All know the story of the Balance. Of how the Goddess and her sister tricked Gormalech under the ground, and how he is now trying to return by using enslaved rabbits as his weapon.

  ‘All know as well the story of the twelve tribes and the Gifts they were given. My children have been collecting these, with the Goddess’s blessing, and plan to use them to strike back, to return the Balance to the way it should be.

  ‘They already had four of the Twelve Gifts, and they have now found a horned crown named Blodcrun: a Gift that has been hidden away in the depths of Grimheart forest.

  ‘We have used the sacred hammer of Applecross to forge arrows that can pierce Gorm armour …’ At this, her audience whooped and cheered. ‘But we have come to ask my brother for his aid. Not for his army, but his bow.

  ‘For our plan – and our arrows – to work, we need to use Soulshot, the Gift of Sparrowfast, to fire them. We need to engage the Gorm in battle, and then Podkin and Paz, my children, will be able to strike at Scramashank himself. This is the only chance we have to beat the Gorm. This is our only chance to save ourselves.’

  There were murmurs from all around the longburrow. Podkin saw rabbits staring at him, open-mouthed, trying to get a glimpse of the Gifts he bore. He no longer felt quite so small and unimportant. He heard snatches of whispered questions, the names ‘Blodcrun’ and ‘Grimheart’ repeated. Many seemed excited that such a thing had happened, that there might be a chance of striking back against the Gorm.

  But raised voices came from the direction of the Sparrowfast rabbits. His mother’s words had angered and outraged them. Take their warr
en’s Gift? Give it to some children? Ridiculous!

  Eyes began to turn to Chief Hennic. Everyone could see the rage slowly building up in him. His ears trembled with it. His clenched fists shook. Finally it exploded.

  ‘I might have known!’ he shouted. ‘You and your tatty bunch of criminals have come to steal my Gift! I knew the minute I saw you! You’ve always been jealous that I became chief! You’ve always wanted this bow. Give it to your scrawny one-eared brat of a child? You must be joking! He’d probably feed it to one of his pet wolves!’

  ‘This has got nothing to do with jealousy, Hennic!’ Podkin’s mother turned to face her brother, paws clenched. ‘I couldn’t care less that you became chief. This is about our survival! Do you think it makes me happy that my own beloved children be involved in this war? Podkin and Paz are the only ones that have ever even scratched the Gorm. They’ve met Scramashank and beaten him twice! They are our only hope. If you don’t believe me, listen to our bard, he can tell you the story …’

  ‘With pleasure!’ Yarrow leapt up from his seat and bowed elaborately. ‘It’s a work in progress, of course – you’ll have to forgive a few wobbly stanzas – but I think you’ll find—’

  ‘I couldn’t give a rat’s conkers about your stupid bard!’ Hennic screamed at his sister as he clutched the bow to his chest. ‘The only way you’ll be getting Soulshot is if I, and every last rabbit in Sparrowfast, dies first! I am going to be the one to kill Scramashank. Agbert and I will march out and destroy him. We don’t need you, your snotty children or your ragged bunch of forest robbers!’

  Podkin suddenly found himself on his feet, with Paz beside him. Most of Dark Hollow had jumped up too. Fists were waved, teeth were gnashing. It looked as though the council was about to turn into a brawl: Dark Hollow against Sparrowfast. And in between were the Silverock rabbits, their heads spinning with all this talk of Gifts and Gorm, not knowing who to side with, whether to be excited or just plain terrified.

  All eyes were now on Lady Enna: she stared at her brother with such hatred Podkin was surprised his face didn’t melt. She looked as though she was about to throw the first punch when, instead, she took a deep breath.

  ‘Hennic,’ she said, ‘I’m not going to fight with you. This isn’t like the old days back home. You need to think about my words and do what is best for every rabbit here, not just for yourself.’

  She turned and looked across the longburrow at Podkin and Paz and then bowed her head. ‘Dark Hollow,’ she said, ‘we are leaving.’

  And then, without a word, all the Dark Hollow rabbits and the forest Wardens filed out of the longburrow, along the entrance tunnel and out of the warren to the patch of ground they had chosen to camp in. The wolves were already there, waiting for them.

  *

  As everyone began building campfires, Podkin watched them, thinking about the insults Hennic had thrown.

  What was wrong with his uncle? Why hadn’t he been impressed by the wolves and the Wardens? Podkin had been so sure, so certain, that the sight of his new friends would have convinced anyone to stand with them, even if it did mean handing over your tribe’s Gift.

  Riding out of the forest, wearing Blodcrun like some sort of horned king – had he been stupid to feel so proud? He felt a bit silly now, after Hennic’s words, but then again … who else had managed to lead an army of wolves? Or discover the ancient secrets of the forest?

  He tried to think of it from his uncle’s point of view. Would he give up Starclaw if another Gift-Bearer came along? If everything depended on it, he thought, if it was our only chance, then I would. I definitely would.

  So what, then, was Hennic’s problem? Was it something to do with the Dark Hollow rabbits themselves?

  ‘A ragged bunch of forest robbers,’ he had called them. As if they’d been a gaggle of tinkers, turning up at his warren door uninvited.

  They were a tatty lot, he supposed. They didn’t have matching armour or any smart symbols painted on their shields. They were made up of all sorts: rabbits from warrens all over Gotland and Enderby. Every colour of fur, every length of hair and shape of ears. Most of them were scarred or limping. Some appeared like they hadn’t eaten in months.

  It would be easy to look down on them, Podkin thought. Especially if you came from a fine warren with mosaic floors and flags and tapestries everywhere.

  But Podkin believed they had something no other tribe had.

  They didn’t judge each other by what they owned, or how they looked. Every rabbit was welcome at Dark Hollow, no questions asked. If you had lost your home, your family, your friends, then Podkin’s new tribe would take you in. Take you in and fight for you, as if you were blood.

  And, as ragged as they might be, they were the only ones who had managed to stand up to the Gorm so far. They had courage and hope and a kind of wily resourcefulness that none of the old warrens possessed.

  Sparrowfast and Silverock might look very impressive – lined up in rows with their shields, facing down the Gorm – but they probably wouldn’t last two minutes. Not without Podkin’s rag-tag bunch to help them.

  He couldn’t help feeling a little tingle of pride.

  No, Hennic’s problem was elsewhere, he realised. It was all to do with his mother and what had happened between them when they were young. Whatever that was, his uncle had felt it so deeply and strongly that it blinded him even now. It had made him so angry he would risk his own tribe – and everyone else’s – just to spite Lady Enna, and Dark Hollow, and everything that went with her.

  Podkin looked for his mother now, and spotted her standing on the outskirts, gently rocking Pook back and forth. She hadn’t spoken to anyone after her argument with Hennic, and she didn’t look very happy either.

  He walked up to her and stood there for a few moments. Then, when she hadn’t seemed to notice him, gently put a paw on her arm.

  ‘Podkin,’ she said, looking down at him over Pook’s back. ‘Darling, I’m afraid I’m too cross to talk right now. You understand don’t you? I just need a minute or two …’

  Podkin could see damp fur around her eyes. The fight with Hennic had hurt her too. The same deep hurt that drove his uncle. That went back years and years and years.

  To get the bow, to stand the slightest chance against Scramashank, he would have to find some way to heal those old wounds. And how was he meant to do that? I’m only a child, he thought. Everyone expects me to tame wolves, fight monsters, discover ancient Gifts … and now sort out grown-ups’ problems for them, when they can’t even do it themselves. It’s impossible.

  He remembered a little rabbit who used to spend the day hiding from his lessons, playing with his wooden wagon and model soldiers. What under earth had happened to him?

  He became a hero, Podkin realised, and sighed. A hero with another problem to solve. There would be a way through this, somehow. Perhaps Brigid or Paz would have an idea. For now, he reckoned, it was best to leave his mother alone for a bit. To give her time to forget her sadness and go back to being the Lady Enna everyone was a little bit terrified of. The one he knew and loved.

  ‘I understand.’ Podkin gave her arm a squeeze and moved away. He spotted Paz and Brigid setting up a cauldron to cook some soup and was about to go and ask their advice when he caught sight of Crom.

  The big warrior rabbit had moved far away from everyone else, over by the fences that encircled the rows and rows of little beehives. He was hunched over, as if in pain, and his arms were wrapped tightly around himself. Something was very wrong.

  ‘What’s the matter with Crom?’ Rill, the black-furred shield maiden, had walked up to Podkin and was following his gaze. She looked as worried as Pod.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Podkin said. ‘I think it’s about something that was said in the meeting. When Hennic mentioned the witch-rabbit.’

  ‘How does Crom know about her?’ Rill muttered under her breath, but Podkin still heard it.

  ‘She was the one who took his sight,’ he said. ‘Didn’t
Crom ever tell you?’

  Rill shook her head. ‘I didn’t like to ask,’ she said. Then she set her jaw and grabbed Podkin’s paw. ‘Come on.’ They began to march over to Crom.

  As they drew closer, Podkin could see that the big rabbit’s shoulders were shaking. Was he crying? Without thinking, Podkin pulled his paw away from Rill and ran up to Crom, throwing his arms around his waist. Crom froze for a moment, then knelt to return Podkin’s hug, holding him tight for a long time.

  Finally they let go and Podkin stepped back to look into his friend’s blank eyes. He saw fear there, and great sorrow, things he never thought Crom was capable of.

  ‘What’s the matter, Crom?’ Podkin said. ‘Is it because of the witch?’

  Crom nodded, then hung his head. ‘I never thought … I mean I hoped … that I’d never have to face her again. She was the last thing I ever saw … her face … the lightning … I still see it every night, in my dreams. When Hennic said she was with the Gorm … I don’t know what happened to me. I’m sorry, Podkin.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry,’ Podkin said, hugging him again. ‘Don’t ever be sorry.’

  Podkin knew exactly how he felt. He’d been the same with Scramashank for a long time after his father was killed. It was only after taking Surestrike, the hammer, from him that the terror had begun to go away.

  ‘Crom,’ said Rill. She had been standing a few paces away, letting him have a moment with Podkin. ‘We need to talk. About the witch.’

  ‘What about her?’ Crom said. He let Podkin go and sat down on the ground, leaning back against the beehive fence. Rill and Podkin joined him.

  ‘I know who she is,’ said Rill. ‘She came from Blackrock – my warren. I had no idea she was the one who took your sight …’

  Crom gave a deep sigh, then nodded. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Her name is, or was, Mila. She was our priestess, back before the Gorm came.’ Rill leant her head back and looked up at the darkening sky, her voice sad and slow.