*
A few hours later, and it was night in the forest above the warren. Most of the rabbits were still out on watch, shivering in the darkness, probably.
Crom was checking over a pile of packs, stacked at the far end of the longburrow. Supplies, water, blankets, weapons and torches. Everything that could be carried had been bundled up, ready for a hasty escape should the Gorm be seen entering the forest.
Brigid and Paz were doing the same with their medicines, while Mash worked with wooden poles and old blankets, trying to make some kind of stretcher.
Podkin hoped the makeshift stretchers would be strong enough. The thought of leaving his mother and aunt after only just finding them again … would he have the strength to run off without them? And if not, would he be brave enough to stay by their side, knowing the Gorm would kill him if he did?
He and Paz had promised each other they would drag the stretchers themselves, if it came to it. He prayed to the Goddess that it wouldn’t.
Podkin knew he should be helping with something, but he had a task of his own to be getting on with.
He had spent the early evening puzzling over the riddle they’d found alongside the brooch: ‘In moon’s clear sight, in shadows dressed: this Gift will make you dance your best.’ What could it mean? Obviously, the first part meant the brooch would only work its magic at night. Perhaps hiding in the shadows too? From what he could gather, each of the Twelve Gifts had a catch to them – some condition or flaw that meant they weren’t too powerful. Starclaw, for instance, could cut through anything except iron. Very annoying, considering their enemy was covered in the cursed stuff.
But it was night-time now, the warren was full of shadows, and the brooch didn’t seem to be doing anything much. Maybe he had to be outside, where the moon was? And what would happen if he were? ‘Dance your best …’ Would it make him prance around like an idiot? It would be a pretty useless gift if it just did that.
There was only one way to find out.
Making sure everyone was busy, Podkin slipped out of the longburrow and up the tunnel to the warren entrance. There was only one rabbit on guard – all the others were out in the woods, keeping watch in pairs. As Podkin reached the doorway, he saw it was Clary, a soldier-rabbit from Munbury.
‘Hello, Podkin,’ she said. Podkin smiled. It had been so good to see a familiar face among the rescued prisoners, even though she looked like a ghost of her former self. He’d never actually had much to do with her back in their warren, but being around her now made him feel safe. It was like a little piece of his old world was still there, proving it had once been real.
‘Evening, Clary. Crom has given me a message for Mish,’ Podkin lied. ‘Can I go out and find her?’
‘Find her?’ Clary laughed. ‘You’ll be lucky. The little tinker will be halfway up a tree somewhere. More squirrel than rabbit, that one. If I were you, I’d stand out in the open and let her find you.’
‘Thanks, I’ll try that.’ Podkin felt bad about lying, but there was no way Clary would just allow him out into the forest at night on his own to play around with some musty old jewellery. He let her open the heavy entrance door, then gave her a wave as he stepped through.
‘Be careful, Podkin. Don’t go too far into the woods and don’t be long. There could be anything out there.’
‘I won’t,’ Podkin lied again. Thoughts of Gorm warriors (Scramashank!) or horned rabbit-gods creeping through the trees ran through his mind as the door clunked shut. The forest was very dark, very empty and he was all alone.
*
A quick scurry along the path, and Podkin was soon out of sight of the warren. The first thing he did was look up for the moon. At least, he tried to, but the thick pine trees blocked out all but the tiniest specks of sky. He peered at the brooch anyway, and wasn’t surprised to find it as cold and lifeless as ever.
He needed a clearing, somewhere the trees weren’t so crowded. There was one nearby, but the thought of it made his fur stand up with fear.
The graveyard.
Not a place you wanted to be on your own at night.
Come on, Podkin, he told himself. You’ve faced worse things than a dark graveyard. True, but that made him start thinking of Scramashank again, and his fur bristled even more.
This was ridiculous. Did he want to be a scared, tiny rabbit, hiding behind warriors like Crom and Clary? No. He wanted to be a chieftain’s son. He wanted to be an important part of the warren, like Paz was. Fears are there to be faced, a voice in his head whispered. It sounded like something his father would say, and marching to the graveyard was something his father would have done.
Podkin took a deep breath, gripped Starclaw at his side, and headed through the forest to the clearing.
*
The graveyard was a short walk away, but it seemed much longer at night. The blackened trunks and roots of trees became Gorm warriors, their crooked blades and spears poised to skewer Pod. Branches that brushed his cloak and trousers were clawed metal hands, reaching out to pull him under the earth. By the time he reached the edge of the graveyard he was breathing heavily, and he’d been squeezing the hilt of Starclaw so hard his fingers hurt.
But he got there safely. Funny how something that would have seemed like an adventure months ago – before the Gorm, before losing his father – was now filled with hidden terrors. Was this how it would always be? Would he ever get rid of this constant fear?
Starclaw gave a little buzz at his side, reassuring him. And of course he had the brooch too. Moonfyre, Brigid had called it. Sure signs that the Goddess was protecting him. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Podkin, he told himself. Get on with your mission.
He looked out across the clearing. Twelve little mounds of earth now filled it, each with a tiny wooden headstone. Podkin remembered how they had had to hack holes out of the frozen ground to lay the shrouded bodies inside. How wasted and broken the poor rabbits had looked, but also, in a strange way, how peaceful. For them, at least the worst was over. He said a little prayer to the Goddess, and turned his gaze upwards to the sky.
Between the treetops, a few pale clouds drifted across an open patch of night. Beyond them, stars: Clarion’s harp, the vole, the big radish – and there, in the middle, a gibbous moon, shining silver light over everything.
Podkin held out the brooch, letting the moonlight fall on it. It glittered across the metalwork, and the white stone in the middle seemed to drink it in, glowing from inside in reply. Podkin gritted his teeth, in case the thing made him start dancing the Bramble Reel, but nothing happened. ‘In shadows dressed’. He had forgotten that part of the riddle.
Looking around, he spotted a purple-black smudge of shadow at the foot of an ancient pine. He nervously stepped into it with both paws. ‘Come on then,’ he said to Moonfyre. ‘Do your magic. Make me prance about like a drunken ferret if you want, but do something.’
Still nothing.
Podkin scratched his head. He was out in the moonlight. He was dressed in shadow. What more did he need? Starclaw just worked when you wanted it to, but without knowing what Moonfyre did, how could he use it?
He looked out at the graveyard again. Maybe he needed to be more in the open, away from the treeline. There, by the graves, maybe? Or on the other side, where the sharp black shadows of that lopsided aspen lay?
Then there was a swish, a falling sensation, the ground zipping away from his feet. One instant he was standing at the clearing edge, looking at the shadows, the next he was standing beside the aspen, looking back at his footprints.
What had happened? Had he jumped from one side of the graveyard to the other? Or had he somehow moved in between the shadows, disappearing from one place and appearing somewhere else?
He decided to try again.
This time he looked at the soft patch of darkness on the right-hand side of the clearing, where a fallen tree trunk was being slowly swallowed by moss and loam. He imagined himself standing there, moving from this place to tha
t.
The swish came again. He had the same feeling of toppling, and then there was soft squidgy moss between his toes. He was standing by the log.
‘This Gift will make you dance your best …’ Not actual dancing, like at Midwinter or Lupen’s Day, but dancing in between the shadows cast by the moonlight. He had discovered Moonfyre’s power, and he hadn’t even had to ask for Paz’s help!
Podkin was about to dash back to the longburrow to tell Crom – surely he would want to listen now – when he heard voices in the forest. Footsteps too, and they were heading his way.
Without really thinking what he was doing, Podkin flicked his eyes around the graveyard, focusing on the deep shadows of a bramble bush at the far side. In a heartbeat he was there, crouching amongst the thorns, some of them digging into his fur, making him want to squeal.
He held his breath, watching, thinking, Gorm, Gorm! But instead two lop rabbits walked into the graveyard. Part of the scout patrols, that was all.
One was the huge blacksmith from Applecross warren. Sorrel, Podkin thought he was called. The other was another Applecross lop. He wasn’t sure of her name: Tansy? Pansy? Something like that. They would mean him no harm, but Podkin stayed hidden, taking the quietest breaths he could. After all, how would he explain being out on his own in the graveyard at night? And he still didn’t know these rabbits very well. He was wary of all strangers now, after the things that had happened to him since last Midwinter.
But the rabbits were up to more than just patrolling. There was something sneaky – furtive – in the way they were moving. Podkin watched and listened.
‘Can we talk here?’ Tansy or Pansy was looking round the clearing, checking if they were alone. She clutched at the huge arm of Sorrel, as if she were afraid of something.
‘It seems safe.’ Sorrel was glancing around too, but neither of them saw Podkin, buried in the brambles. What were they up to?
‘Listen,’ said Tansy/Pansy. ‘Spring is here. We should leave now, before the Gorm find this place. It’s only a matter of time before they search the forest.’
‘I’ve told you before,’ Sorrel whispered back. ‘I can’t take you with me. I promised priestess Comfrey that I wouldn’t tell anyone.’
‘But Sorrel! You can’t go back to Applecross on your own! It’ll be full of Gorm! Comfrey wouldn’t care that you told me – Goddess knows, she’s probably dead by now – the most important thing is that we get the hammer back!’
‘The hammer is hidden, the Gorm will never find it.’ Sorrel growled the words, both a whisper and a shout. ‘I’ve sworn not to tell, and I won’t break my vow. When I’m sure it’s safe, I’ll go back for it. Until then, we stay away from Applecross warren!’
Tansy/Pansy was not giving up. ‘What about the arrows you made with the hammer? Don’t you think these rabbits need to know that there’s a way to make weapons that can pierce the Gorm’s armour? Just think what they could do with it!’
‘And what if we failed to bring it back here? What if the Gorm got their hands on it? I won’t let Comfrey’s sacrifice be for nothing. There’s no way I’m telling you where it’s hidden, Tansy. Just forget about it.’
The argument would have gone on, but Podkin heard more footsteps, this time very close to where he was hiding. The tiny form of Mish, the dwarf rabbit, along with another scout, entered the clearing.
‘Anything to report?’ Mish asked of the two lops. They nearly jumped out of their fur, and looked very sheepish.
‘Nothing,’ said Sorrel. ‘No Gorm this way.’ Tansy just shook her head.
‘Good,’ said Mish. ‘You two, go back to the warren for some sleep. Come and relieve us in a few hours.’
Sorrel nodded. He and Tansy left the clearing, heading back to the warren. Podkin waited until Mish and her partner had walked off in the opposite direction before he dared to breathe again.
His head was reeling. The Applecross Gift was hidden away? And it could be used to make weapons that might beat the Gorm?
Just wait until Crom heard about this.
CHAPTER FIVE
War Council
This time Podkin didn’t even bother speaking to Crom. He walked straight up to where the old warrior was triple-checking the packs of supplies, grabbed hold of his scarred, grey-furred paw and slapped the moon brooch on to it.
‘Podkin? Is that you?’ Crom asked. ‘What’s this?’
‘That,’ said Podkin, ‘is the lost Gift of Dark Hollow warren. A brooch that lets you jump in and out of moon shadows. I … I mean we … found it in the hidden warren you didn’t want to hear about, and I’ve just been outside, learning how to use it.’
Podkin stood back, arms folded, beaming, and watched Crom’s reaction.
First he frowned, looking as though he was about to shout again. He ran his fingertips over Moonfyre, eyes widening as he realised what it was. Then his face softened. His bottom lip and hands began to tremble. The tall fierce warrior sank to his knees, holding the brooch up as if his blank eyes could see it.
Without a word he reached out a hand towards Podkin’s one-eared head. He grabbed the little rabbit and pulled him close against his chest. Podkin could smell the leather of Crom’s armour, the linseed oil he’d used to clean it, and underneath, the musky scent of the soldier-rabbit himself. He let himself be held for a few moments before returning the hug, squeezing his protector tight.
‘Podkin,’ Crom whispered. ‘Do you know what you’ve done? Do you know what this means?’
‘Is it good?’ Podkin replied, worried that he had upset Crom again.
‘Good? Good? It’s a miracle! You’ve healed the warren! The curse of Dark Hollow is gone!’
Podkin didn’t want the hug to end, but he had more to tell. ‘Crom,’ he said. ‘There’s something else you need to know. Something I saw in the forest.’
Now Crom listened. He listened as Podkin told him all about the Applecross rabbits and how he had hidden in the brambles, hearing every word they’d said.
When he had finished, Crom was silent for a few moments. Finally he stood, bellowing across the longburrow in a voice that echoed throughout the entire warren. ‘Clary! Rill! Dodge! Get up! Bring me the Applecross rabbits and call the council! Right now!’
*
There seemed to be a lot of running and shouting after that. At some point, Paz came and stood next to him, a sleeping Pook in her arms.
‘Podkin, what have you done?’ she whispered in his good ear.
‘Umm … I’m not sure.’ Podkin bit his lip. ‘Maybe got some rabbits into big trouble?’
Moments later, Sorrel and Tansy were dragged from their room and brought into the longburrow. Podkin was shocked to see Clary and some of the other soldier-rabbits pointing spears at them.
They were made to stand in front of Crom, who had Rill, Dodge and Rowan – his war council – around him. Brigid was there too, looking a bit less fierce than the others.
‘What’s this about?’ asked Sorrel. His chest was puffed out, his huge biceps tense, as if he were ready to fight. Podkin could see the burn marks in the fur of his hands, face and ears from his work as a blacksmith. He looked as if he’d be just as good at pounding heads as he was copper and bronze.
‘You’ve been keeping something from us,’ said Crom. His voice was flat and even, but the frown on his face showed he meant business. Podkin hoped Sorrel wouldn’t underestimate him. Even though he was blind, Crom was still one of the best fighters in the Five Realms.
‘Keeping something? I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You were heard,’ said Crom. ‘Talking about the hammer of Applecross. You know where it is. And what it can do.’
‘Heard? By who?’ Sorrel looked around the room, eyes flashing. Podkin tried to edge behind Paz without being noticed.
‘By Podkin.’ Crom pointed a finger at Pod, ruining his hiding plan. He let out a little squeak.
‘That one-eared kitten? He’s making up stories.’
‘You’r
e going to tell us eventually,’ said Brigid. ‘So you may as well get on with it.’
To Podkin’s surprise, Tansy nudged him on. ‘Go on, Sorrel,’ she said. ‘There’s no point hiding it any more.’
Here it comes, Podkin thought. He’s going to go crazy, and I’m going to get squished like a beetroot. But instead of flying into a rage, the smith’s huge shoulders sagged. He let out a deep sigh, sounding almost relieved.
‘Very well,’ Sorrel said. ‘I suppose there’s no point in keeping quiet. Although I would like it noted that I kept my vow. The secret was found out before I spoke.’
‘Noted,’ said Crom and Brigid together.
The soldier-rabbits lowered their spears, and Rowan fetched a chair for Sorrel. Once he was seated, he began to talk.
‘For any that don’t know, I am from Applecross warren. I am – I was – the master smith there. We were famous throughout all Gotland, you know, for our metalwork. Blessed by the Goddess, we thought, and especially because of our Gift: the sacred hammer, Surestrike.
‘We didn’t use it often, because every time you created something with it, the hammer got slightly smaller. It gave a bit of itself to whatever it made, we used to say. But we were so proud of it, anyway, and Chief Brae had it displayed on the wall over the longburrow hearth.
‘Anyway. The Gorm came. We heard stories from the north of Enderby. Warrens being taken over, rabbits being dragged off … We didn’t believe it at first, or we thought it was too far away to bother us.
‘Then we started to get survivors coming to our warren. Rabbits from Stormwell and Hillbottom. That was when we knew the stories were true. The Gorm were real, and they were coming our way.
‘Chief Brae started to get the warren ready. We made more armour, more weapons. One day he asked me to take the sacred hammer down. He told me to make some arrowheads with it. Small ones, that wouldn’t use up too much of the hammer’s essence.
The Gift of Dark Hollow Page 4