Fire Bringer (27 page)

When Rannoch finished the mole shrugged.

‘So, it’s you this Prophecy is talking about?’

‘Yes,’ said Rannoch.’I mean, no. I mean, parts of it seem to be about me. The fawn mark, anyway. But I’ve been thinking and thinking about it and it can’t be me. It’s simple. I’m not a changeling. Bracken is my mother. Besides, there’s so much of it that I don’t understand. . . that seems impossible. . . about Herne and the Island Chain. No, it’s just a story, like the stories about Starbuck.’

‘But if it is true. . .’ said the mole, looking wide-eyed at Rannoch.

‘It isn’t,’ said Rannoch, almost angrily. ‘I’m just a deer. Like my friends.’

Rannoch looked wistfully towards the distant hills.

‘I wonder how Willow is,’ he said quietly.

‘Born a healer and a king,’ muttered the mole, nodding his head gravely.

‘Stop it,’ said Rannoch.

‘I’m sorry,’ said the mole, ‘but it seems to me there is more to you than meets the eye. Even my eyes.’

Rannoch was silent and sullen now. Although he wouldn’t admit it to the mole, he suddenly felt frightened and very alone.

But as summer grew fatter the mole and the deer spent many hours together when the boy wasn’t around, discussing the Prophecy and talking of the Great Land. The mole wondered why Rannoch showed no sign of escaping from the field and returning to his friends, for although Rannoch was growing quickly and could easily have jumped the fence, the mole would find him still there, sun after sun.

‘Rannoch,’ he said one day in early autumn as they sat together in the grass, ‘why do you stay here with the humans? Why don’t you return to your herd?’

Rannoch shook his head.

‘Because I don’t know how to find them,’ he said sadly, ‘and besides. . .’

‘Besides?’

‘When I was with them I caused them nothing but problems. Perhaps they’re better off without me.’

‘But you can’t stay here. Look, I was talking with my cousin the other day and I explained about this prophecy of yours. He said, why don’t you go and ask the seals, on the western shores? My cousin says seals are wise and knowledgeable creatures and know everything about everything. You at least can talk to them.’

‘Seals?’ said Rannoch.

‘Yes,’ said the mole. ‘They live by the sea.’

‘What’s the sea?’ asked Rannoch.

‘Well, I don’t really know,’ answered the mole. ‘But it lies beyond the land and . . . well . . . it’s where the seals live.’

Rannoch was quiet again and thoughtful. In truth, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to learn anything about the Prophecy at all.

‘I must be on my way again,’ he said to himself half- heartedly now, ‘but perhaps it’s better to wait until the spring comes to travel. Then we’ll see.’

Anlach came round and Rannoch’s blood rose in him once more, turning the four-pointer’s feelings to anger and his thoughts to Willow and his friends. Again Rannoch found the boy’s company distressing, only less so than the year before. He ran back and forth through the grass and bucked and kicked or rose up to box with the air.

Then suddenly something happened that threw the young stag into utter confusion as he wondered about Herne and the Prophecy. It was nearly the end of Anlach and Rannoch was feeding restlessly, when he suddenly saw the mole coming towards him. The little creature dipped his head as he shuffled up to Rannoch and greeted him warmly. But as Rannoch stood there, listening to the mole, the deer was suddenly appalled. He couldn’t understand what the creature was saying to him. Not a word.

Rannoch blinked down in amazement at the mole but, no matter how hard he tried, he could not make sense of the little Lera. As the mole went on talking Rannoch suddenly threw back his antlers and, with a desperate snort, he turned and ran across the field, leaving the startled mole on his own again.

‘Herne,’ cried Rannoch desperately, ‘what’s happening to me?’

The incident with the mole deeply unsettled the deer but Rannoch grew even more confused when, at the end of Anlach, the mole came to visit him again and Rannoch found that once more he understood the Lera.

It placed an even greater doubt in the deer’s mind about the truth of the Prophecy and his own powers. As winter settled over the human dwelling, it threw Rannoch in on himself, so when the snows fell on his dull brown coat, the deer became sullen and listless and was reluctant to talk to his friend. The mole would watch him and shake his head sadly, but though he made a point of visiting his friend whenever he could, he had his own loved ones to tend to in the threatening winter.

Spring came a second time to the field and the mole was glad to see that with the sunlight and the new flowers, Rannoch was in better spirits. Their friendship blossomed again and he and Rannoch would tell each other stories and talk of the creatures and the forests. But the mole noticed that Rannoch began to talk less and less of Willow and his friends.

Rannoch shed his antlers again and they grew once more. He had his third head. This time the brow tines were larger and the well curved beams forked in two at the tops, like crab’s claws. When the mole came to visit him one day, he nodded as he looked at the deer, for the fawn in the pit had now grown into a fine young stag.

Yet as summer arrived, still Rannoch made no move to escape the fenced field or the boy. The mole would tremble as he watched Rannoch take food from Liam’s hand and stand letting the boy stroke his fawn mark. Then, one day, as he approached the deer, the mole’s expression was very grave, for he had come to talk seriously with his friend.

‘Rannoch,’ he said, as he shuffled up, ‘how are you?’ Rannoch smiled down at him.

‘Well, thank you,’ answered Rannoch cheerfully. ‘The human brought me some delicious berries yesterday.’

The mole nodded.

‘Rannoch,’ he said quietly, ‘I’ve some news for you. It’s about the Herla. The Lera say there is great trouble.’

Rannoch went on chewing the grass.

‘They say the Herla are suffering,’ the mole continued. Rannoch didn’t answer.

‘Aren’t you interested, Rannoch?’ said the mole quietly.

‘Yes,’ answered Rannoch, looking up now, ‘but I just bring more suffering.’

‘But don’t you want to know what’s happened to your friends? To Willow and Tain and your mother?’

‘Of course,’ answered Rannoch sadly. ‘I think about them all the time.’

‘And the Prophecy?’

Rannoch looked at his friend guiltily.

‘Rannoch,’ said the mole, his voice growing severe, ‘can’t you see what’s happening to you?’

Rannoch stared back at him.

‘You’ve grown tame, Rannoch,’ whispered the mole fearfully. ‘Tame.’

Rannoch looked at the mole in silence and suddenly a light woke in his eyes. Tame. The word came like the warning call of the hind in winter. As a young fawn Rannoch had heard the hinds use it, though he never really knew what it meant. But it had always carried fear in its sound, a fear greater even than the howl of the wolf. Rannoch suddenly remembered his old friend Quaich and the terrible herd in the park.

In the weeks that followed, Liam noticed that something had deeply affected Rannoch and when Anlach arrived he found it impossible to even approach him. Rannoch stamped the ground if he tried to get near and lowered his antlers angrily. The boy would shake his head sadly and call to him, but Rannoch never once answered.

Until one day, at the end of Anlach, when the skies had grown chill with the promise of rain and Larn was close at hand, the boy did something that made Rannoch wonder. He came down to the field and, calling to Rannoch gently, he lifted the rope from the fence post and swung open the gate.

Rannoch stared at him in amazement, not knowing what he meant, but the boy just stood gazing sadly back at him. If Rannoch had come closer he would have seen the tears in his piercing green eyes. Then, very quietly, the boy turned and walked back to his dwelling, without once looking round.

When the mole pushed up his nose through the earth to find his friend the next morning, he saw Rannoch standing by the northern fence gazing up to the hills. To the south, the gate still stood open.

‘Are you all right, my friend?’ asked the mole.

‘Yes,’ answered Rannoch, ‘but it’s time. To be on my way again.’

‘To find your herd?’ said the mole delightedly.

‘Yes.’ Rannoch nodded. ‘To find my own kind once again. But first I must find the seals and see if they can help me to understand the Prophecy.’

‘Yes,’ said the mole, ‘you have been with the humans for a long while.’

‘I want to thank you,’ Rannoch said suddenly, ‘for telling me I was changing. The humans have a strange power.’

‘Yes,’ agreed the mole. ‘The Lera must guard against it.’

‘I shall miss you.’

‘And I you.’ The mole smiled.

The deer dipped his head to touch the mole’s nose.

Then he turned away. Rannoch pawed the ground and then, suddenly, he raced towards the fence. He pushed with his legs and Rannoch’s body and head, with his pair of three- pointed antlers, rose into the air and sailed smoothly across. He landed lightly and without once looking back, Rannoch began his quest.

11 To the Sea

‘Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain’s rim: And straight was a path of gold for him, And the need of a world of men for me.’ Robert Browning, ‘Parting at Morning’

Rannoch didn’t stop running until he had left the mole and the boy far behind him. It was a glorious feeling to be free once more and, as Rannoch went, he began to realize how much he had missed in the company of the boy. He breathed in the rich scents around him and marvelled at the beautiful, twisting shapes of the trees. He listened to the voice of the wind and stopped to look at every bird that darted by, or to examine the tracks of the Lera around him. Although he knew that winter was near and his heart was now filled with thoughts of the strange Prophecy and of what had become of his mother and his friends, for a time he simply revelled in the wonder of running where he willed.

But after a while Rannoch’s mood began to change. He grew lonely and began to miss the mole. He wondered what on earth the seals could tell him of Herne and the Prophecy, and whenever he thought of the verses he felt angry and confused.

Rannoch was travelling west now and he had just crossed a river when he noticed strange tracks in the ground. They were smaller than a deer’s and every now and then the ground behind them had been smoothed flat, as if the animal were dragging something behind it. Rannoch sniffed the place and though the scent was very strong, it came from no Lera that he knew. Rannoch decided to follow it.

The trail took him up the bank of the river and then disappeared altogether at a place where a tree trunk had fallen right across the path of the water. Rannoch stopped and looked around, but he could see nothing. He was about to turn away again when he suddenly saw something flash through the water. At first he thought it was a fish but the shining trail it left behind it was so wide that it would have to have been a very big fish indeed.

Rannoch paused, then he heard a dripping sound and suddenly a dark shape slid from the river and darted up the side of the tree trunk. It was on the top of the trunk now, in the middle of the stream, and Rannoch blinked at it in disbelief. It was smaller than a fox, longer and thinner, with sleek brown fur, a long tail and strange little feet. It had a pointed face, with bright, quick eyes.

The animal looked around and then ran down the trunk straight towards Rannoch. When it got to the end it lifted itself on its back legs and rose like a snake. It hovered there in the air, peering at Rannoch, as the deer, who was hardly more than a large antler away, peered back at it in amazement. Then it turned again and, slipping back off the log, it disappeared into the water with hardly a sound.

Rannoch stepped forward.

‘Hey there,’ cried Rannoch, ‘come back.’

For a moment there was no sign of the creature. Then suddenly its little head popped straight out of the water, just below Rannoch.

‘Were you talking to me?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ answered Rannoch.

‘How?’ said the startled animal, showing his teeth.

‘I’ve always been able to do it.’

The creature disappeared again and then re-emerged on top of the tree trunk. He shook himself in a great spray of droplets and ran up close to Rannoch. Again he lifted himself, so that he nearly touched the deer’s nose with his own. Then he made a strange twittering sound and ran round in a circle three times.

‘What are you?’ he asked, as he came to a stop.

‘I’m a Herla,’ answered Rannoch, ‘a deer. What are you?’

‘I’m an otter,’ said the otter proudly. ‘What do you want?’

‘I just wanted to say hello, that’s all. My name’s Rannoch.’

‘Well, hello. Now I can’t stand here talking to you. My mate is sick.’

‘Sick?’ said Rannoch, stepping closer. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know,’ answered the otter sadly, ‘but she won’t eat.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’ said Rannoch with concern.

‘What could you do?’ answered the otter disdainfully.

‘You may be able to speak my language, but what do you know about otters?’

‘Nothing, I suppose,’ agreed Rannoch, ‘but when we’re sick we go into the forest and find berries and bark that make us well again.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course,’ said the otter, ‘but there’s nothing here she wants. She says that the only thing she knows to make her well is the grass that grows from the sea. But I can’t very well leave her to go and get it, can I?’

‘The sea?’ said Rannoch, hardly believing his luck.

‘Yes. That lies at the end of the land.’

‘What is the sea?’ said Rannoch.

‘The sea is where the rivers go and where the salmon come from. The sea is the greatest thing in the world. Have you really never seen the sea?’

‘No.’

‘Well, this is strange. First I meet a creature that can talk to me. Then I find he has never even seen the sea.’

‘I’ll go for you if you like,’ said Rannoch suddenly. ’To the sea, I mean. I’ll get your mate the grass.’