As Uki watched, the thing flickered. For an instant he had a glimpse – an impression – of a creature lying on the forest floor. A thing made up of that yellow light, long, spindly limbs curled around itself. Starved skin stretched over bones and a bald, earless head with huge, terrified eyes. It looked more like a skeleton than an evil monster, and it certainly didn’t seem dangerous.
A blink and it was gone again.
‘That is it! Gaunch, the Lord of Famine! He poisoned the Ancients’ crops, made them grow into warped, twisted things that they couldn’t eat. He planned to starve them so he and his followers could take over their world. Quickly now! Press the crystal to the core of light! He will be pulled inside!’
Uki moved towards the yellow speck, holding the crystal in his paw. But that glimpse of the starving thing on the floor made him pause. How was he to know that Iffrit was right? What if it was a perfectly innocent being he was about to imprison? If only his mother was here to tell him what to do. She always knew what was best.
‘Why are you waiting?’ Iffrit floated down before him, so faint now he was hardly there. ‘Do it now, before he escapes!’
‘I don’t know …’ Uki couldn’t find the right words. ‘What if this isn’t right? What if you’re the evil one? I saw him just now and he looked helpless … terrified.’
‘That’s what he wants you to see,’ Iffrit said. ‘Think hard. My memories are yours now. What do you know of Gaunch?’
Uki was about to ask what under earth the spirit was talking about, when there was a flash behind his eyes. That sensation of waking up from a dream with cloudy memories that seem both real and unreal at the same time.
He saw a picture of a tall creature dressed in yellow armour standing amongst a desolation of burnt and twisted plants. Fields and fields of crops, all blackened and dead, stretching to the horizon as far as he could see. When he opened his eyes, the figure of Gaunch was back again, this time his bony face was split by a fierce, evil grin. The sunken, hollowed eyes gleamed with hatred and spite.
Iffrit is right, Uki realised. This thing must never go free.
He stabbed downwards with the crystal, aiming for the spot the glowing speck had occupied. His paw passed right through the body of Gaunch and into the soft layers of dead leaves under the birch tree. The image of the grinning spirit blinked out, as did the yellow light all around him. In his paw, Uki felt the crystal burn hot for a moment, buzzing as it was filled with a flow of energy.
And then he sensed it too.
A fizzing warmth, unlike anything he had known before, flowed through him, bubbling through his body, arms, legs, even to the tips of his ears. He felt like he could mow down the entire forest around him, just by thinking about it. Like he could leap up to the stars …
‘Well done,’ came a voice from beside him, and he remembered Iffrit was still there. Just. ‘You can feel the power, can’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Uki nodded. ‘It’s … it’s amazing.’
‘It won’t last long,’ said Iffrit. ‘And the other spirits won’t be so easy to capture. Mortix, the Queen of Death; Charice, Bringer of Disease; Valkus, Spirit of War. You must follow them, while you can still sense the trail. This is as far as I can go … I can feel myself fading …’
‘Are you dying?’ Uki suddenly felt scared. He didn’t want to be alone. Not truly alone, without his mother, without this strange spirit-thing he had thought was really a dream. ‘Please don’t. I can’t … I don’t want to be on my own.’
‘You won’t be,’ said Iffrit. ‘Not really. I am a part of you now. All my memories, all my powers are kept alive in you. I’ll always be there, in a way.’
Uki didn’t find that very comforting. He would still be alone and with an impossible task to complete. One which would mean his own death if he failed. He reached out a paw to the dwindling spirit. ‘I can’t do this … it’s too hard …’
‘You can.’ Iffrit’s voice was no more than a whisper now. ‘I believe in you. You … You never told me your name …’
‘Uki.’
‘Uki,’ Iffrit repeated, as he vanished. ‘Be strong, Uki.’ And he was gone, leaving the young black-and-white rabbit standing in the middle of a cold, dead forest, feeling more alone than he could have imagined possible.
INTERLUDE
Dusk is beginning to draw in when Jaxom hauls on the jerboas’ reins, coaxing them to a halt. He leaps down from the driver’s seat and leads them over to a little cluster of hawthorn trees, where he ties them up and puts a nosebag of seeds on each of them.
The bard jumps down as well, performing an exaggerated stretching routine that looks like some kind of slow-motion dance.
‘Please don’t say you’re stopping there,’ says Rue. There have been several breaks in the story already – when they had lunch, when the jerboas were rested or watered. Each time Rue had been hopping from foot to foot, waiting for the bard to continue.
‘We’re camping for the night,’ says the bard. ‘I’ll carry on after dinner. Maybe.’
Rue throws their packs from the wagon and then climbs down after them. ‘All right, then. How about some questions in between?’
‘Do we have to?’ says the bard. He walks over to where Jaxom has already spread his blanket on the ground and is setting some food out on it. Small, brown loaves of bread, dried turnip slices and a clay pot of something that looks and smells like pickled cabbage.
‘Just while we eat,’ says Rue. ‘Just before you start the story again.’
The bard sighs and settles himself next to Jaxom. He adds some pieces of cornbread and a flask of elderberry juice to the feast.
‘Aren’t we having a fire?’ Rue asks. He was looking forward to a big, crackling blaze. It was by far the best place for listening to the bard’s stories.
‘No fire,’ said Jaxom. ‘Not unless you want to spend the night having your skin sliced off.’
‘The flames and smoke would be seen for miles,’ explains the bard. ‘Any Arukh raiders around would spot us and come investigating.’
Rue shuddered at the thought and pulled his cloak around him. Even though it was summer, the air was chilly this close to the mountains. ‘Are they really that dangerous?’
‘Depends,’ said Jaxom, spreading some of the disgusting pickled cabbage on to a slice of bread. ‘Some of the tribes are friendly – they even come down to towns like Melt to trade – but others are fierce as trapped weasels. They have warlords instead of chiefs, you see. They go through them pretty quick and every now and then you get one who wants to cause trouble. Hasn’t happened for a while, though.’
‘The last real problem was before I was born,’ says the bard. ‘That was when the tribes all joined up and decided to attack Gotland.’
‘Was that when Crom and your father fought their first battle?’ Rue asks.
‘Well remembered,’ says the bard. ‘It was indeed.’
‘That would make a good tale,’ says Jaxom, but before the bard can agree, Rue jumps up and stomps his foot.
‘Hang on,’ he says. ‘You’ve got to finish the tale of Uki first! And then you said Podkin’s would follow after, don’t forget!’
Jaxom laughs and waves Rue back with a paw. ‘Relax, little one. I wasn’t suggesting he tell it. I was enjoying the Uki story myself, you know. He’s a famous hero, here in Hulstland. Ninefold blessings on his name.’
‘Oh,’ Rue says, remembering to touch three fingers to his forehead. ‘Like Podkin is where we come from?’
‘Very similar,’ says the bard. He has fished three leather cups from his pack and now fills them with juice.
‘But there’s some things I don’t understand,’ says Rue.
‘Here we go,’ mutters the bard, rolling his eyes at Jaxom.
‘So, the Ancients made Gormalech and they also made these spirits. Why did they keep making horrible things?’
‘Well,’ says the bard. ‘Those were only some of the things they made and I think it’s pretty obvious they were
mistakes. They locked the spirits away in a prison that was supposed to last forever. Gormalech, on the other hand, went a bit out of control. That’s why the Ancients aren’t around any more. But they probably made all sorts of other things as well. Things we can’t even begin to understand.’
‘Why did the spirit say there was some of them in us? Didn’t the Goddess make us?’
‘Yes,’ says the bard, and is about to say more when he is interrupted by Jaxom clearing his throat. ‘At least, that’s what we believe. Others think Kether is the maker of all things. Ninefold blessings and all that.
‘Anyway. There has been some discussion about whether the goddesses (and gods) are the Ancients. Or may even have been made by them as well. Just discussion,’ he adds quickly, bowing his head to Jaxom, ‘but it would explain some of the things Iffrit said.’
‘Toasted turnips,’ says Rue. He is actually quiet for a moment as this thought sinks in. Jaxom and the bard take the chance to drink their juice and start in on the cornbread. The pause doesn’t last long.
‘Also,’ Rue continues. ‘Why are the spirits so dangerous? Iffrit and Gaunch just faded away. Won’t the others do that too? And how did they all fit into a tiny prison? What are they?’
‘That’s a lot of questions at once,’ says the bard, pouring more juice. ‘As I understand it, they had been trapped in that crystal for thousands of years. Hundreds of thousands, maybe. That made them weak. Too weak to carry on without a body to live in. A bit like a flea or a tapeworm, maybe. Perhaps they used to live inside the Ancients’ bodies too? Who knows. It’s certain that they weren’t creatures of flesh and blood like you and me, though. They have a tiny speck that is real – the glowing lights that Uki saw – and the rest is something else. On their own, they probably would have faded away. Or gone into a deep sleep like Iffrit did. But if they find bodies to take over … well, that’s when the trouble will start.’
‘Do they find bodies? Does Uki capture them all? Does Iffrit come back?’
‘Hold your horseradishes!’ says the bard. ‘That’s the rest of the entire story! A good few days’ worth at least!’
‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ Rue says, settling down and snatching up the last piece of cornbread. ‘You’ve had something to eat and drink, and there’s not going to be a fire. We should at least have a story before we go to sleep.’
‘He’s right there,’ says Jaxom, lying back and wrapping himself in his cloak. ‘It’s been many a year since I had a bedtime story.’
‘Oh, very well,’ says the bard, glugging down the rest of his juice. ‘Just a bit more before bed, I suppose. Now, where was I?’
CHAPTER FIVE
Revenge
Uki stood still for a very long time. So long, in fact, that a tiny firecrest flew over to see what was going on. It fluttered backward and forward between the branches of the birch tree, the splash of gold on its forehead glinting in the sunlight, its bright eyes staring at the strange new statue in its forest.
On and on he stood, his only movement the slow blink of his mismatched eyes, until the firecrest lost interest and flew off.
Inside Uki’s head, however, it was very different. All the crazy things that had just happened to him were tumbling over and over, mixed with bits and pieces of memories that Iffrit had left behind. It was too much for Uki’s young brain to cope with.
Slowly he lifted the crystal in his paw and stared at it. It was hot and buzzed with energy. Inside the pink shard there were swirls of yellow light, bumping and battering at the walls of this new prison as the trapped spirit tried to escape.
If it wasn’t for this one solid piece of evidence, Uki would be sure he had gone mad.
And now I have to track down the other spirits, he thought, because if I don’t they will destroy the whole world.
That didn’t seem real either. In fact, harsh though it may sound, Uki didn’t care much about the rest of the world right then. The only thing he could really think of was his mother, lying cold and alone in that graveyard. That, and the cruel rabbits who had put her there. He remembered them throwing stones, the gleeful smirks on the faces of the bullies who had caused it all.
And they would be back there now, safe and warm by their firesides, probably laughing to each other about what had happened. Maybe they didn’t know his mother had died or that he had nearly died too. Maybe they did and they didn’t care.
He ground his teeth. Rabbits shouldn’t be allowed to do such things to one another! All the years of teasing and misery just because he looked different, and now this …
As Uki’s anger flared, he felt a sudden rush of power. Capturing Gaunch had given him strength, Iffrit had said. He wondered how much.
Reaching out a paw, he grasped one of the birch tree’s low branches. He could feel the smooth bark, the sap running through it. Ordinarily, it would take a good few minutes of chopping with an axe to get through wood this thick.
Uki twisted his grip a tiny fraction and the branch snapped off with a thunderclap crack. It had been as easy as pulling up a blade of grass.
Uki stared at his paw as he wiggled his fingers. It won’t last long, Iffrit had said.
Not long, perhaps, Uki’s dark voice whispered to him, but long enough for what you need to do.
He turned towards the Cinder Wall and started the walk back north.
*
The yellow spirit’s power had made him fast as well. He stormed through the woods on legs that didn’t seem to ache or tire. His mind was still reeling and he didn’t notice the passing of time properly. One minute he was clambering over the Wall, the next he was crossing the graveyard where he had woken just that morning. Everything was foggy, like a dream.
Revenge was the only thing he could think about. The things he would do to the members of his old tribe when he found them. The lessons he would teach them. Call him a demon, would they? He would show them what a demon was really like …
And then, somehow, there he was, standing outside the cluster of stone-and-thatch huts, hidden behind a dead, fungus-covered oak tree.
Night had fallen and a northern wind blew flurries of snow crystals round and round in the air. He blinked up at the darkness, wondering where the day had gone.
How did I get here? he thought. What am I even doing?
Grief can do funny things to your mind, and this was Uki’s first real experience of it. If only there had been someone kind to explain it to him, perhaps he might have been able to cope, or at least understand what was happening to him.
He could see firelight glinting around the edges of the hut doors, hear the mumble of voices within. As he watched, one of the doors opened, and two rabbits stepped out, cloaks huddled tight against the cold.
Uki’s breath caught in his throat. It was the two bullies, scuttling across the frosty ground back to their house.
Them, Uki thought, his fists bunching tight. He could see the piggy eyes of the boy peering around the village. His sister was whispering in his ear as they walked. Probably a mean and spiteful nugget of gossip.
They had no idea he was standing just a few metres away. The outcast, back to haunt them. This was his chance to rush out and surprise them. Catch them just as they were heading into the warmth of their hut.
And do what? he asked himself. All the way here, he hadn’t been thinking properly he realised. All he could feel was anger at what had happened to his mother. That, and the feeling of power from the crystal still gripped in his fist.
Was he really going to attack those rabbits? He hated them, yes. He wanted to see them punished, but was he actually able to hurt them?
They deserve it, his dark voice told him. It’s because of them that your mother’s dead. It’s because of them that you have nothing.
He remembered the branch snapping off in his paw. With that kind of strength he could really injure someone. Kill them, even.
His mother would never have wanted that. She had always told him to be kind and good. Even when the
village children had teased and laughed at him, she would tell him to forgive them.
‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ he whispered into the bark of the dead oak. ‘I can’t forgive them. Not ever.’ But, he realised, he couldn’t hurt them either. No matter how easy it would be with this new strength he had. That would make him as bad as them. Worse even.
Instead he would leave them. Leave them alone to their sad little lives. It wouldn’t be long before they found another victim to bully. And then another, and another. Eventually, everyone in the village would hate them just as much as Uki did. And then what would they have? They were all alone out here in the Ice Wastes: no other tribes for miles and miles around.
Perhaps they would learn their lesson and change. Perhaps they would lead miserable, lonely lives. Uki took a deep breath and let it out slowly, imagining his anger swirling out with the steam, carried away by the snowflakes. He found he didn’t care any more. These were all other rabbits’ problems now. He was done with this place for good. There was a whole other world out there for him and, if Iffrit was right, it needed his help.
He turned his nose south, towards the Five Realms.
CHAPTER SIX
Jori
Uki’s sleep that night was filled with strange dreams.
He flew through a pink-tinted sky, with blazing wings of fire stretching out on either side of him.
He soared and circled over an endless sea, riding lazy thermals and staring down at the waves below. Every now and then he passed over an island, each with high, jagged cliffs jutting upwards, topped with towering walls of glass.
There were creatures living there, one on each lump of rock. They had built themselves little homes: a blocky, fortified castle; a smoking workshop surrounded by pools of noxious slime; an empty banqueting hall amongst fields of blackened crops; and a tiny thatched cottage with a skull hanging on the front door.
Uki and the Outcasts Page 5