‘Goodbye, Uncle Hennic,’ Podkin said when his mother’s awkward farewell had finished. ‘I expect you want your bow back now.’
Hennic paused for a long time, eyes flicking to where Crom stood holding Soulshot. It was obvious he did want it back but after what Mo Grim and Zarza had both done, how could he come out and ask for it?
‘Perhaps we could just look after it for a while?’ Paz said, stepping up to join them. ‘We have eight of the other Gifts, after all …’
‘Yes,’ said Hennic. ‘Look after it …’
‘We’ll take very good care of it,’ said Podkin.
‘And you can have it back when we’re sure we don’t need it again,’ Paz added.
‘Well,’ said Hennic. ‘I suppose …’
‘Thank you, Uncle,’ said Podkin.
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Paz, smiling. And they hurried away before he could change his mind.
*
The march back was slow and sombre. Everyone seemed to be doing a lot of thinking. Podkin among them.
How much has changed in just a couple of days, he said to himself. What do we all do now? Do we carry on living in the forest? Or do we go back to our old warrens? What happens to Crom? Or Mish and Mash? Will Yarrow want to stay?
It was too much to think about on top of everything else. He kept looking back to where his mother walked, helping support Auntie Olwyn. It didn’t look right without Brigid.
They reached Silverock, and the Dark Hollow rabbits decided to pack up their camp and head home straight away. Everyone seemed eager to get back to the safety of their own beds and their own fireside.
It was as he was wrapping up his blankets that he found it. A strip of bark covered with neat Ogham writing and signed with a little picture of a sickle. He took it straight to Paz.
‘It’s a letter from Brigid,’ she said, the words catching in her throat.
‘She knew she wasn’t coming back from the battle,’ said Podkin, feeling the tears start to well in his eyes again.
‘Of course she did,’ said Paz. She took a deep breath, then began to read:
‘My dear Podkin and Paz,
Please forgive me for leaving you this note. It is too hard for me to tell you this in person.
You see, I know I shall not survive the coming battle. I have known it for a long time. Don’t be sad, my dears. It was meant to be and I have had a good, long life. It has been a happy one too, especially the last months.
I have one last message for you, Podkin. One more thing you must do.
You must gather all the Twelve Gifts together. Keep them safe in the forest where Hern himself protects you. I don’t know what you will need them for, but need them you will. Other than that, I have no more prophecies left to tell you. The future is yours to work out.
I will be looking out for you both from the Land Beyond, Goddess willing. I knew for many years that I was going to meet you three children. I did not know how much I would come to love you.
Your true friend,
Brigid’
*
It was on the trip back to Dark Hollow that Podkin made up his mind.
They had set up camp halfway through the forest. Unlike the last time, Podkin knew there were beasts out between the trees. Sabre-toothed wolves and horned giants with cloaks of cobwebs and fur. And they were all his friends.
He and Paz had taken a spot by the fire, with Pook curled up between them. Their little brother had spent the last ten minutes howling into the trees, waiting for an answer from his wolf brothers, and had tired himself out.
‘What will you do now, Paz?’ Podkin asked. The flames of the campfire crackled lazily, and all around them rabbits were murmuring together softly or beginning to snore.
‘Well,’ said Paz. ‘I know Mother wants to go back to Munbury. To build the warren again. Pook will be going with her, and we should too, I think.’
‘But what about Brigid’s message? About gathering the Gifts and keeping them safe in the forest?’
Paz flicked her ears. ‘Crom could do that, maybe. If he wants to, that is.’
Podkin shook his head. ‘I’ve decided I’m going to stay at Dark Hollow. I will do what Brigid wanted and keep the Gifts. We have nine, so there must still be three more out there somewhere. I need to find them, to bring them together. For her. I don’t think I could go back to Munbury, anyway.’
He remembered the last time he had been there: that final glimpse of his father, standing across from Scramashank – holding his ground, ready to die for his tribe. He knew he would see it again every time he set foot in the longburrow. Every breakfast, dinner and supper. There was no way he could face it.
‘But you’re the next chief!’ Paz said. ‘You have to go back!’
Podkin shook his head again. ‘Remember what I said in the Grimwode? You’d make a much better chief. I’m going to talk to Mother in the morning.’
There wasn’t much else to say after that. Both rabbits sat and watched the flames until they fell asleep, leaning against each other.
*
And so that was what happened.
Podkin stayed at Dark Hollow, guarding the Gifts and training to be a fighter and a leader with Crom, who decided to stay too.
In fact, quite a large number of rabbits who had escaped to the forest chose to make Dark Hollow their home. Mish, Mash, Rill, Sorrel, Tansy, Burdock the farmer and his family. The forest warren was once again a homely and bustling place.
Lady Enna was surprisingly keen on Podkin’s idea and returned to Munbury with Pook and Paz, the new chief-in-waiting. There were a few more Munbury rabbits amongst the refugees and survivors who went with them, and many more who had hidden in and around Munbury itself. They soon had the place repaired and looking cosy. Podkin missed them terribly, but they promised to visit regularly and they had been gifted some of Uncle Hennic’s sparrows, so they could always keep in touch.
Yarrow was the only rabbit who decided not to settle down. Much to Pook’s dismay, he announced that he was off to travel the Five Realms. His ballad of Podkin One-Ear and the Gorm was almost finished and it needed an audience.
‘The world needs to know,’ he said to Podkin. ‘So it never happens again. Don’t dig too deep.’
‘Don’t dig too deep,’ Podkin repeated. ‘You will come back, though, won’t you?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Yarrow. ‘I have a sneaking suspicion that little brother of yours has the bard’s gift. I reckon I’ll be needing him for an apprentice in a year or two.’
And that was that.
Once everyone had gone their own way, the days fell into a routine of their own. Podkin woke each morning, checked the Gifts in their special chamber, then trained with Crom before sitting on the council and dealing with the running of the warren.
He ate in the longburrow each evening, slept in his room each night. Sometimes there were sparrows with notes from Paz (he had to learn to read Ogham to decipher them) or squiggles from Pook. Every other month they came to visit him, and those were happy times.
Once or twice a week, Podkin would wander into the forest, just off the path, where the trees were thicker and the moss deeper.
He would stand silent for long minutes, staring into the shadows between the trunks. Most of the time he saw nothing, but every now and then he picked out the gleam of amber eyes or the swish of a bushy tail. Sometimes he saw the outline of a tall, horned figure. It might even seem to raise a paw to wave at him – it was hard to tell.
But he never again, not in his forest at least, saw a rabbit clad in spiked iron with eyes of blank, rusty red.
And for that he thanked the Goddess.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Judgement
The bard takes a deep breath and waits. He isn’t expecting any applause, but not getting drop-kicked into the weasel pit would be nice.
There is a beat or two of silence, broken only by the jiggling of Rue on his seat – he is trying his hardest not to cheer, and instead is making
a kind of high-pitched squealing noise, like a very plump, furry kettle on the boil – and then there does come some applause.
A very definite clap, clap, clap. It takes a moment for the bard to realise it is coming from Sythica herself. The bonedancers’ eyes all swivel to the Mother Superior. Even from behind their bone masks, the bard can tell they are as shocked as he is.
‘Very good,’ Sythica calls. ‘Very good. I can see why you have such a fine reputation.’
‘Thank you,’ says the bard, bowing low. He doesn’t want to push his luck, but … ‘Um … I don’t suppose this means … that you’re not going to execute me?’
‘Of course I’m not,’ says Sythica – this time Rue does let out a little cheer, and then quickly slaps his paw over his mouth. ‘Any fool can tell this is a true account of events. You were completely right to tell the story as it is. The descendants of Vetch should never have taken out a contract on you.’
The bard lets out a very deep, heartfelt sigh.
‘And of course, seeing as you are actually Pook Lopkinson himself, there was never any danger of our order harming a whisker on your head.’
This takes the bard completely by surprise. That was his plot twist, his bombshell, in case of an emergency. ‘I … what … how did …?’
‘Come now, Wulf. Or should I say, Pook. We are the bonedancers. We have our ways of finding out everything. You don’t deny it, do you?’
For a moment the bard does consider denying it. It’s a secret he’s grown used to keeping, and what’s more, he didn’t want Rue finding out this way. The little thing might actually explode. But then he is still standing on the lip of a giant weasel’s pit. A very hungry giant weasel. ‘No,’ he says. ‘I don’t deny it. I am Pook.’
For the first time in his entire tale, there is a gasp from the assembled bonedancers. A gasp and a thumping sound as little Rue falls backwards off his bench and on to the stone floor.
‘I thought so,’ said Sythica. She makes a gesture with her hand and all the bonedancers stand at once, bow their heads to thank him, then begin filing out of the hall. One of them pauses to pick up Rue and carry him over to the bard, setting him on his feet. The little rabbit is in such a state of shock, all he can do is stare at the bard, his mouth silently opening and closing.
‘What?’ the bard says. ‘If I’d known it would shut you up so well, I would have told you ages ago.’
A few moments later and the hall is completely empty except for Rue, the bard and Sythica. She gets up from her throne and walks slowly down the steps until she is standing before them.
‘I thought it was you, but I had to be sure.’ She bows her head to the bard. Behind her mask her eyes are smiling. ‘Please forgive the theatrics. You were never really in any danger.’
‘Do I know you?’ the bard asks. His ears begin to tremble.
Sythica looks around the hall, making sure they are alone, then reaches up and removes her mask. It reveals an old rabbit with white fur and piercing blue eyes. And a heart-shaped patch of grey on her nose.
‘Syrena!’ the bard stares, speechless.
Syrena – now Sythica – smiles and reaches into a pouch at her belt. She pulls out a yellowed casting bone carved with a single rune.
‘It is time I returned this to you,’ she says, taking the bard’s hand and pressing the bone into it. ‘Nixha did not want me to die that day. She chose you to make sure I didn’t. I owe you a debt. The bonedancers and all of the Five Realms owe you and your family a debt.’
‘It’s so good to see you,’ says the bard. There are tears in his eyes. ‘And Zarza? Your sister?’
Sythica points to one of the banners lining the hall. The mask embroidered there has a familiar pattern on it, the bard realises.
‘She fell in battle fifteen years ago,’ says Sythica. ‘But not before she became Sythica herself. She was Mother Superior here for many years before Nixha called her home.’
‘She was a very brave rabbit,’ says the bard.
‘She was. And she thought very highly of your family.’
The bard smiles at Sythica. So strange meeting her again, and after so many years. A sudden thought occurs to him.
‘What will you say to the Golden Brook rabbits?’ he asks. ‘Won’t they be angry that you’ve refused their contract?’
‘We will tell them Nixha does not wish you to die. Not at our hands, anyway. And then we will make sure they understand you have the bonedancers’ protection.’
‘Your protection?’ says the bard. ‘Thank you very much, but what does that mean, exactly?’
Sythica smiles and her eyes glint an icy blue. ‘It means that, should they decide to hire any other assassin to take on the job we refused, the bonedancers will visit them in their warren.’
‘Ah,’ says the bard. ‘And that won’t be a nice visit, I presume?’
Sythica’s eyes glint even colder. ‘Let’s just say none of us will be needing to kill any beetles that day.’
*
Once the reunion is over, Sythica dons her mask again and escorts Rue and the bard out of the chamber. Their packs, stocked with fresh food and water, are given back to them and they walk between two rows of bowing bonedancers all the way to the entrance (a great honour, Sythica informs them).
With more thanks and the promise that they will always be welcome at Spinestone, the doors are opened for them and they are free to leave.
They wave goodbye and walk a little way along the road through the swamp, listening to the boom as the great doors close behind them. Once all is quiet, and they are hidden from sight amongst the tall reeds, the bard bends over, hands on his knees, and lets out a loud, long whistle.
‘By the Goddess’s daisy-coated undercrackers,’ he says. ‘I didn’t want to admit it, but part of me thought I was a goner then.’
Rue’s mouth had stopped opening and closing a while back. Now his voice returns to him.
‘You’re Pook! You’re actually, really, actually Pook!’
‘I know,’ said the bard. ‘I have been all my life, in fact.’
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ Rue shouts. ‘That means you’re the brother of Podkin! In real life! And Paz too!’
‘I am,’ says the bard. ‘How do you think I tell the story so well?’
‘I thought it was the bard’s magic, like you told me!’ Rue stops shouting for a second as a thought hits his little head. ‘Hey, are Podkin and Paz still alive? Can you take me to meet them? Can you? Can you?’
The bard considers telling Rue that he has sat in the longburrow with the real Podkin almost every evening of his short life. But that would perhaps be too much for the little rabbit to take in right now.
‘Of course,’ he says instead. ‘One day. We’ll meet them one day.’
‘Why did you change your name to Wulf?’ Rue asks. The first of many, many questions. ‘Was it because of Truefang? Or was it to keep your identity secret? Or to protect Podkin from some terrible danger?’
‘Don’t get carried away,’ says the bard. ‘Pook was actually just my nickname. My full name was Pookingford Lopkinson. You’d change your name if that was what your parents called you. I did love that wolf, though. It was months before I stopped howling at the moon …’
‘I can’t believe it!’ Rue begins dancing along the path ahead of the bard, shouting and waving his arms. ‘This is the best day ever! My master is Pook! And he’s not going to be eaten by a weasel! And Paz and Podkin beat the Gorm! They killed Scramashank and destroyed Gormalech! The Five Realms are saved! Gormalech is gone! Hooray!’
The bard watches him go, along the western road that leads out of the swamp, off to Thrianta and Hulstland and a whole host of new stories and adventures.
He is a free rabbit again. Free to enjoy having an apprentice, free to pass on his tales and gather new ones. Rue is happy and life is good.
He waits until the young rabbit is safely out of earshot and then says in a low, sad voice, ‘Silly little rabbit. G
ormalech gone? Did you really think killing a god would be that easy?’
Only the buzzing mosquitoes and rustling swamp reeds heard him. But even they seemed to stop for a moment.
And shiver.
Watch out for the next book in the Five Realms series, coming in September 2019!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kieran Larwood has been passionate about stories and storytelling ever since reading The Hobbit age six. He graduated from Southampton University with a degree in English Literature and worked as a Reception teacher in a primary school. He now writes full-time. He lives on the Isle of Wight with his family, and between work, fatherhood and writing doesn’t get nearly enough sleep.
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
David Wyatt lives in Devon. He has illustrated many novels but is also much admired for his concept and character work. He has illustrated tales by a number of high profile fantasy authors such as Diana Wynne Jones, Terry Pratchett, Philip Pullman and J. R. R. Tolkien.
THE FIVE REALMS SERIES
The Legend of Podkin One-Ear
The Gift of Dark Hollow
The Beasts of Grimheart
PRAISE FOR THE FIVE REALMS SERIES
‘Will entertain everyone: Podkin One-Ear
already feels like a classic.’
BookTrust
‘The best book I have ever read.’
Mariyya, age 9, Lovereading4kids
‘Jolly good fun.’
SFX
‘I just couldn’t put it down.’
Sam, age 11, Lovereading4kids
‘Five stars.’
Dylan, age 12, Lovereading4kids
‘Great stuff and definitely one to watch.’
Carabas
‘An original fantasy with … riveting adventure,
and genuine storytelling.’
Kirkus
The Beasts of Grimheart Page 15