Fire Bringer (41 page)

They followed at a careful distance. A warm breeze had come up, shaking the heather and whispering through the bracken. Bankfoot and Tain shuddered as they approached the place where the stones stood. As they climbed the hill, high to the north of Scotia, a full moon rose in the sky, and the deer stopped and blinked in awe and disbelief. The ancient stone circle, a tall tree in diameter, was silhouetted against the giant yellow moon which hung like a mighty island in the ghostly sky. They could see everything in its sallow light as the wind grew stronger and stronger. Thirty stags were inside the ring of stone and in the very centre was a form they both recognized instantly. It was Rannoch.

As they crept nearer, hardly daring to breathe, they heard a voice. It was Kaal, the lead stag who had first addressed Rannoch at his capture.

‘Lord Herne,’ Kaal cried, ‘enlighten us. Fulfil the ancient destiny of the Herla.’

Bankfoot was no more than three trees from the circle now and as he caught sight of his friend’s face he shuddered. Rannoch’s eyes were a livid red, staring with a fury he had never seen before. Rannoch dipped his head and then let out a great bellow that rose high above the wind.

Then Kaal spoke again.

‘Bring the fawns,’ he called. ‘Let them dance.’

Four of the stags stepped out of the circle and, to Tain and Bankfoot’s amazement, a group of fawns appeared at the far end of the stone ring. They walked forward slowly, swaying their heads as they came and when Bankfoot caught sight of their eyes, he saw they had the same frantic look as Rannoch’s.

Now the stags in the ring began to bellow and bark in unison and Kaal cried out once more.

‘You who are the future, dance for Herne, dance for the Lord of Violence.’

The fawns began to sway around Rannoch in the moon- light, moving in a circle and throwing their heads left and right as they went. The stags’ bellows climbed to a kind of pounding, rhythmic chant as the fawns rose on their hind legs or turned around and around and bucked and swayed under the moon.

‘Herne,’ cried the stags as the fawns danced, ‘Herne, Lord of Night.’

The fawns got faster and faster and before Bankfoot and Tain’s terrified, staring gaze they seemed to turn to shadows in the ghostly moonlight. Things not of this world. Driven on by some unheard, unearthly music. Spirits or demons. Or both. The dancing rose to a fever pitch and then, suddenly, one of the fawns broke from the ring and stepped up to the stone altar in the very centre of the circle. Bankfoot recognized Ragnur from the Slave Herd.

The dancing fawns swayed on and on around Ragnur and the altar. But suddenly, to Tain and Bankfoot’s horror, Kaal broke into the centre and the stag rose up on his haunches. With a single blow he brought his front hoofs down on Ragnur’s head. The little fawn fell dead to the earth.

Bankfoot gasped. He was shaking so badly his front hoofs were nearly hammering the ground.

‘Sacrifice.’ Tain shuddered. ‘That’s what they’re doing up here. They’re sacrificing the fawns.’

In front of them Rannoch suddenly reared up too on his back haunches. He bucked his antlers violently to the moon, kicked at the air in a frenzy and then, from the very depths of his soul, he bellowed once more.

‘Herne is pleased,’ he cried, in a voice his friends hardly recognized. ‘Now leave me. It is finished.’

Tain and Bankfoot turned and fled. They didn’t stop until they were in sight of Birrmagnur and the others, but as they neared the group, hardly daring to believe what they had seen, Tain whispered desperately.

‘Bankfoot?’

‘W-w-what is it?’ said his friend.

‘Can it be true? Can he really be Herne?’

When Bankfoot and Tain told them about the sacrifice, the friends were horrified and Birrmagnur kept shaking his head, but the look in Tain and Bankfoot’s eyes left no room for doubt. Only Willow refused to accept it.

‘They’ve done something to him. They’ve got him under some kind of spell,’ she said. ‘It’s even more important we see him.’

‘What shall we do?’ said Tain.

‘Carry on with our plan,’ answered Willow.

‘But if he’s. . .’

‘At least we shall get to talk to him,’ said Willow.

At last the others relented. It was set for the next sun’s Larn and they agreed to meet just before. They were all desperately nervous but each, apart from Bracken, had their part to play in the plan and concentrating on what they had to do at least helped stop them from succumbing to fear.

‘Right,’ said Willow as the evening star began to glow in the sky. ’Birrmagnur, you’re to lead; Peppa and I will come later when Bankfoot—’

But Willow suddenly stopped talking. Ten stags were coming in their direction.

They dipped their antlers as they approached.

‘Herne has summoned you,’ said the leading stag gravely.

‘All of you are to come.’

Before they had even had a chance to put their plan into action, the friends found themselves being led up the hill towards Rannoch. When Willow caught sight of him standing there in the shadow of the birch trees, next to Kaal and a guard of scouts, she leapt ahead.

‘Rannoch,’ she cried, ‘are you all right? We’ve been so worried. We couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t let us see you and—’

‘Silence,’ cried Rannoch, suddenly pawing the ground. Willow looked back in amazement.

‘Rannoch, it’s me, Willow.’

Rannoch’s eyes seemed to stare straight through the hind. Bankfoot, Thistle, Tain and Birrmagnur came up and Peppa stood at the back with Bracken, who was trembling violently and kept looking at Rannoch warily. Bankfoot noticed that the ground where Rannoch was standing was strewn with the berries and fungi they had been collecting in the Slave Herd.

‘Rannoch, it’s good to see you again,’ said Birrmagnur calmly.

‘You risk your lives,’ said Rannoch coldly, ‘talking to me thus.’

Now Kaal stepped forward. His eyes were as red as the river.

‘You will bow your heads when you address Herne,’ he bellowed. ‘You are in the presence of a god.’

‘Rannoch, p-p-please,’ said Bankfoot, ‘have you forgotten your friends?’

Rannoch blinked at them as though struggling with some distant memory.

‘I remember you from my dreams,’ he said at last in an empty voice. ‘But I have passed through the kingdom of the dead, to a place none of you may visit. The Prophecy is fulfilled. Do you not see this mark?’

‘A fawn mark. Just a fawn mark. That’s what you always said,’ cried Willow. ‘Don’t you remember, Rannoch?’

‘For too long I have been trying to fool myself,’ said Rannoch. ‘You know the Prophecy. Then shall Herne be justly woken. Well, Herne has woken. Among His own.’

‘But Rannoch,’ said Willow.

‘Enough. Now you must go from this place. Go north. Go south. Only go. You and all those who are not true Hernling.’

Rannoch snorted, as though in disgust, but as he spoke Birrmagnur fancied he saw Rannoch’s eyes clear, just for a moment. When Rannoch spoke again, however, as coldly as before, the reindeer realized he must have been mistaken.

‘Hurry, I am weary of you,’ said Rannoch. But now Bankfoot stepped forward.

‘N-n-no,’ he said, ‘I can’t believe it. After all we have been through. This isn’t you, Rannoch. They have done something to you. It wasn’t you I saw among those st-st-stones.’

As soon as Bankfoot said it, he knew he had made a grave mistake.

‘What’s this?’ cried Kaal, tossing up his antlers, his eyes flaring. ‘He has seen the rite. It is sacrilege.’

Rannoch looked to the stags and for just a moment he seemed to hesitate.

‘Take him,’ he cried suddenly.

Before Bankfoot could do anything he was surrounded.

‘No,’ cried Willow.

The hind was frantic now and as one of the guards approaching Bankfoot passed behind her, she let out a vicious kick with her back legs. It caught the stag full in the side and he bellowed in pain. He swung his antlers down, scything at her soft flanks but Willow jumped backwards.

‘Run, Bankfoot,’ cried Willow. ‘Run.’

Bankfoot leapt forward, but as he did so the stags closed. His way was barred. Now Thistle, Tain and Birrmagnur had dropped their heads and all of them were fighting. The air was suddenly shattered with the clatter of jousting antlers. Though Thistle and Tain fought hard, Birrmagnur fared the best for the stags were unused to the reindeer’s strange, looping antlers and could not get a purchase on their curved points. Birrmagnur was soon in the centre of the melee, scything angrily about him, slashing at the assaulting guards and inflicting heavy damage.

But it was hopeless. As soon as Willow cried out and the fight began, the whole herd had been roused and now they raced to defend their god. In no time at all the friends were completely outnumbered and a wall of stags had stepped between them and Bankfoot. The friends backed off, Tain’s face bleeding badly and Thistle pawing at the earth.

‘You,’ said Rannoch, addressing Willow and the others.

‘You fool with your lives. But because you have shared Herne’s journey, I will allow you to leave unharmed. Go from here today, for your eyes are not permitted to see what must take place now.’

‘Rannoch,’ shouted Willow, ‘you can’t. Not to Bankfoot.’

‘Go,’ cried Rannoch furiously, ‘quickly.’

There was nothing more to be done. The friends were forced back down the hill, leaving Bankfoot to his fate. As the stags drove them from the valley back in the direction of the Slave Herd, Willow, blind with rage and grief, looked back bitterly at her friend.

‘Don’t worry, Willow,’ whispered Birrmagnur next to her. ‘When we are out of sight we’ll wait till dark and try to rescue him.’

But the reindeer was deeply worried and his eyes showed it.

By the birch trees, Rannoch was standing next to the stags encircling Bankfoot.

‘Lord Herne,’ said Kaal to Rannoch as he watched Willow and the others leave, ‘we must make the sacrifice tonight.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Rannoch, looking gravely at Bankfoot, ‘but make certain the whole herd is at the stones. They must all see how Herne repays unbelievers in blood.’

Bankfoot’s hoofs were so heavy he could hardly walk as they led him up the hill to the stone circle. The moon’s eerie, mysterious brilliance illuminated the pagan round. Rannoch led the way this time, flanked by his guard and followed by the fawns and the rest of Herne’s Herd. Most of the herd hung back from Rannoch as he entered the round and Bankfoot was thrust forward. As he stepped inside the ring of stone, Bankfoot shivered as he saw the dead fawn still lying there on the ground next to the altar.

Kaal now entered the circle with the scouts and they each went up to Rannoch in turn and bowed their antlers, dropping berries and fungi from their mouths.

‘Herne,’ they cried.

‘Herne,’ cried all the stags in the herd, now surrounding the stones; and they dipped their antlers. ‘Lord Herne.’

‘Will you feast?’ said Kaal in the circle. Rannoch shook his head.

Bankfoot was prodded forward roughly and he found himself standing next to the altar. He was flanked by three deer and Kaal. The stags began to sway their antlers, the fawns were led in to dance, the chant swelled. Bankfoot closed his eyes and waited for the blow. The frenzied dancing seemed to go on for ever and by his side Bankfoot could sense Kaal getting ready to strike.

The dancing reached a fever pitch and Bankfoot braced himself but as it rose to a crescendo, Rannoch let out a terrible bark.

‘Enough,’ he cried suddenly. ‘Enough. Herne demands silence.’

The stags and the fawns stopped moving, transfixed by Rannoch’s voice.

‘Herne,’ cried Kaal nervously, ‘what is it? Are you displeased with the sacrifice?’

Rannoch stamped the ground.

‘Yes, Kaal, Herne is displeased,’ he cried furiously. ’Herne is displeased with the sacrifice. With you. With the herd.’

A sudden terror gripped the deer.

‘Why, Lord? Why have we displeased you?’

‘Why?’ cried Rannoch. ‘You ask me why? You who live in superstition and fear. You who believe only in the dark, in death and in violence. You who murder your own fawns and do it in my name. You dare to ask me why?’

The stags both inside and outside the stone circle began to back away.

‘Stay where you are,’ cried Rannoch angrily, ‘until I have taught the Herla a deeper magic than death. Until I have shown you the way of Herne the Healer. You who would sacrifice this young stag in the name of the Lord of Stags, watch and fear me.’

Rannoch stepped forward, past Bankfoot, to where the dead fawn was lying. He dipped his head and very gently brushed his flank with his antler.

‘I who have the power to turn nature back,’ cried Rannoch, ‘I command you to get up.’

The silence was deafening now, but to Bankfoot’s amazement the little fawn began to twitch. Its flanks shuddered, its head stirred and suddenly it stood up and shook itself.

The herd gasped and some of the stags dropped to their haunches in fright.

‘Now,’ cried Rannoch in a voice that shook like thunder, ‘because you have so displeased me I command you, all of you, be gone from this place never to return. Herne’s Herd is disbanded. The Slave Herds shall be free. Across the High Land the Herla shall roam as they will. Go together and live like Herla, or go separately. But never again take Herne’s name in vain. All of you, out of my sight.’

They didn’t need to be told twice. The stags began to bellow and, kicking and butting each other, they burst from the stone circle. The stampede had begun. The rest of the herd went scattering across the moor, running for their lives. Only Rannoch, Bankfoot and the fawn were left in the man- made ring. Bankfoot hardly dared stir. He looked at Rannoch and found his legs were pinned to the ground with terror.

‘H-h-herne,’ he stammered, closing his eyes again, ‘Herne. Don’t harm me. Now I know it’s all true about the Prophecy. I’m sorry I ever doubted it but if you’ll—’

But suddenly Bankfoot heard a snort. It rumbled up into a great bellow of laughter.

‘Oh, Bankfoot, silly old Bankfoot, don’t you recognize your old friend?’

Bankfoot opened his eyes in an amazement, even greater than that he had felt at the sight of Herne.