Fire Bringer (5 page)

‘But Captain—’

‘Please, Bandach, do as I ask. Quickly.’

The young stag stared into the captain’s eyes. At last he nodded.

‘Herne be with you always, Captain Brechin,’ he said as he turned.

‘And with you too, Bandach. Run freely.’

As the Draila reached the bottom of the hillock Bandach slipped back down the side of the hill and made for the rowan tree by the stream. But at the bottom of the slope he turned to watch the ghostly scene above him. On the hill Brechin was encircled by eleven stags. They came slowly, warily, with one stag slightly to the front. It was Narl. Brechin lowered his antlers and readied himself. Below, most of the fighting had died down and the red deer looked up. Even Drail shuddered at that unnatural sight. On a hillock above the Home Oak, silhouetted by the full moon, Brechin, Captain of the Outriders, was fighting for his life.

He swayed right and left like a dancing Lera, filled with the spirit of Herne. Five times the circle closed in on the deer. And five times he emerged again, bucking his great antlered head. But on the sixth charge a Draila caught Brechin in the haunches and another straight in the flanks. Brechin lifted his head and let out a cry that rent the sky. The deer’s front legs buckled before him and he crashed to the ground. Even the Draila paused as the captain tried to stagger to his feet again, his bloodied mouth crying out and scything back and forth. But at last Brechin’s head dropped and the stags moved in. There was one last bellow of pain that seemed to tear open the heart of the world and then a terrible silence descended on the glen. It was finished.

At the bottom of the valley, by the rowan tree near the stream, a hind was lying motionless, her long neck limp in the grass. Eloin’s eyes were closed but her sides rose steadily up and down as she panted with exhaustion. At her side something was stirring in the wet grass; a new-born fawn that had nearly cost Eloin her life. The little creature’s thick, woolly coat was wet and sticky and it was kicking its legs and blinking as it tried to stand up, its sleek little ears twitching helplessly in the darkness.

2 Changeling

‘O soul, be chang’d into little water drops And fall into the ocean, ne’er be found.’ Christopher Marlowe, ‘Doctor Faustus’

‘No, you old fool, stay here. What could you do to help at your age?’

‘I can still fight, can’t I?’ mumbled Blindweed. ’My antlers may have gone back but they can still strike a blow or two.’

‘You couldn’t take a fawn, Blindweed,’ snorted Bhreac irritably. ‘Be sensible. If they are fighting in the herd, so be it. Let the old look to the young.’

As Bhreac spoke Eloin lifted her head and strained her neck back over her shoulder to lick her little fawn’s muzzle. She sank back again, exhausted by even this tiny effort.

‘Come on, Blindweed,’ said Bhreac. ’Let’s see if we can do anything for Eloin.’

Blindweed nodded resignedly as Bhreac wandered over to the hind.

‘Well, my dear, that was a close thing,’ said the old hind kindly. ‘But my it was worth it. He’s a fine one. I’ve never seen such bold eyes and so many freckles on a back. They’re like snow leaves dropped from the clouds.’

Eloin opened her eyes and smiled faintly.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It was worth it.’

But then Eloin’s eyes clouded again.

‘But it was terrible too. I thought the whole herd was crying out.’

Bhreac and Blindweed looked at each other gravely as the little fawn nuzzled closer to its mother’s side.

‘What will you name him, my dear?’

Eloin looked back at her fawn. His tail was flicking back and forth as he tried to get to her milk.

‘If it had been a doe I would certainly have called her Bhreac,’ said Eloin. ’But as it is, why not Rannoch?’

The name was well known to the Herla for Rannoch had been one of Starbuck’s calves.

‘Rannoch. It’s a good name,’ said Blindweed in the background, nodding his old antlers approvingly.’Herne himself would be pleased.’

‘Thank you, Blindweed. What do you think of it, my little Rannoch?’

Rannoch wagged his tail furiously but his evident pleasure was from the milk that he was suckling at his mother’s side, not because he understood a word of what the grown-ups were saying.

‘Ouch. Don’t bite so hard. You’ve plenty of time to grow up like Brechin.’

Bhreac cast Blindweed an urgent look but the old deer shook his head.

‘Eloin, may I see your little one?’ he asked, stepping forward.

‘Certainly, Blindweed. May the teller of tales be the first stag to welcome him to the herd.’

‘Come then, Rannoch,’ said Blindweed softly, nudging the young fawn with his muzzle. Blindweed’s gentle buffet swung the calf round and he stood there blinking up at the old storyteller, his front feet splayed slightly out in front of him and his tail twitching furiously. Blindweed stretched forward to give him a lick on his nose but as he did so he suddenly stopped and pulled back.

‘In the name of Herne,’ he gasped, drawing in his breath sharply.

‘What is it?’ said Bhreac.

Blindweed was muttering something under his breath.

‘On his brow a leaf of oaken,’ he mumbled.

‘Blindweed, what on earth’s the matter?’

‘Look,’ replied Blindweed as he gazed at the patch of white fur in the centre of Rannoch’s forehead.

‘Why, it’s only a fawn mark,’ said Bhreac. ’I thought something was wrong’

‘Yes, but look at the shape,’ Blindweed whispered.

In the centre of Rannoch’s forehead, formed by a slightly raised tuft of white fur like a plash of snow, the little stag’s fawn mark was in the shape of a perfect oak leaf.

At the Home Oak Drail was counting the cost of the night’s work while the Draila moved about the meeting place making sure of the Corps members.

‘Well, Sgorr,’ said Drail as the captain of the Draila marched up to him, ‘what’s the count?’

‘One of the Corps killed and several injured, Lord Drail,’ answered Sgorr. ’The rest have come over.’ Drail nodded contentedly.

‘Bandach escaped,’ added Sgorr a little nervously. ‘But we’ll catch him before the sun’s up.’

‘Do so. And the Outriders?’

‘Two evaded us. Salen, though he was badly wounded, and Captain Spey. But otherwise it is done. They are dead.’ The two were silent for a moment. Even they felt the enormity of what they had done.

‘It’s bad that Spey got away,’ said Drail. ’He’s a fast one. Still, what of the Draila?’

‘A few have damaged their antlers for they are still softer than I would have liked.’

But Sgorr bared his teeth; it was the only way he knew how to smile. He was pleased that his trap had gone so smoothly and though Brechin’s stand had been impressive, there was at least a compensation. He could see that Drail was deeply displeased that Brechin had fought so bravely and it always gratified Sgorr when Drail was displeased. It made him all the more malleable.

‘Where is he?’ asked Drail.

‘Brechin? Still on the hillock, Lord.’

‘Well then, let us pay our respects.’

The two stags ran up to the hillock but before they passed beyond the Home Oak Sgorr stopped and muttered something to a stag. He nodded and set off back down the hill towards the bottom of the valley. Then Sgorr continued on his way, careful to keep slightly behind Drail’s limping gait. As they went, the lines of Draila dipped their antlers. Brechin was lying in the centre of the hillock. His great body was badly broken and his tongue lolled from his mouth. His eyes were closed and his sides and haunches were still bleeding. Sgorr hung back as Drail circled the corpse.

At last the Lord of the Herd stopped and bowed his antlers. He hooked them into Brechin’s and with a great effort lifted the bloodied head from the ground. Then he bucked the skull up and down twice, before letting it drop limply to the earth. Drail was about to walk back to Sgorr when he suddenly stopped and turned round again. He walked back to the body and then did something that even the assembled Draila winced to see. He swung round, pawed the earth with his hind hoofs and kicked out at Brechin’s head. The blow caught Brechin full on the right antler and with a great crack snapped the horn clean in two. Gratified, Drail walked back to Sgorr’s side.

‘A fine blow, my lord,’ said Sgorr fawningly. ‘That one would please many a young hind.’

‘Herne’s teeth!’ said Drail. ‘Eloin. I had quite forgotten. Go, Sgorr.’

‘And if the calf has come?’

‘By Herne,’ snorted Drail, rounding on Sgorr. ’Must I tell you everything? You haven’t done so much fighting this night that those teeth can’t deal with a new-born fawn.’

Sgorr bowed his head and backed away. Turning on his haunches he called four Draila to his side and led them away down the hill.

When Bandach saw Brechin fall on the hillock he made straight for where the hinds were gathered by the stream, running as fast as his legs could carry him. But as he neared the meadow he saw that the whole place was swarming with Draila. He smelt the fear on the air as the hinds blinked and looked about them nervously. A stampede had indeed only just been avoided when the cry had gone up from the Outriders and now the Draila were moving among them, trying to calm them. The lying words of the Draila had begun to reassure the hinds, for they wanted to believe what the Draila were telling them about a minor rebellion in the herd that had soon been put down.

Those hinds who asked difficult questions were being separated from the rest. Bandach could see twenty hinds being rounded up quietly and led away to the Home Oak with their fawns in tow. Every now and then a hind, followed closely by her calf, would try and break from the group but the Draila would pounce on them and herd them back, not flinching to use their antlers to do it.

As Bandach watched the group passing now, from the safety of a yew tree, he saw a hind slip away and make towards him. Bandach recognized Fourleaf, the lead hind. He backed away slightly and tried to press into the trees behind him but as he did so he stepped on some dry wood and the snap alerted her to his presence. Fourleaf stopped in her tracks, her senses on full alert, her eyes blinking nervously and her sleek muzzle sniffing the air.

‘Who’s there?’ she called under his breath.

‘Fourleaf. It’s me. Bandach. In here, quickly.’

The doe pushed forward into the trees and for a moment stood there shaking as she looked into Bandach’s eyes.

‘Bandach, did you hear it? The terrible noise. And now the Draila—’

‘I know,’ said Bandach. ’They’ve taken the herd.’

‘It can’t be true, Bandach. Have they killed the Outriders?’ Bandach looked back at her. His eyes told the full horror of what had happened.

‘Fourleaf, we can’t stay here, it isn’t safe. Besides, I have a duty to perform. Brechin asked me to warn Eloin. You know she is near her time. It was his last wish.’

Fourleaf had hardly been listening but this news brought her back to her senses.

‘Brechin is dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then we must hurry, Bandach. There’s no time to lose.’ But with that the two deer heard a noise along the edge of the wood. The Draila guarding the hinds had noticed that Fourleaf was missing and now five of them were coming back to find her. They had already nosed her on the breeze and were moving quickly along the thicket.

‘What are we to do?’ said Fourleaf desperately. ‘I’ve led them to you.’

Bandach stamped back and forth in the leaves as he tried to think.

‘There is no way back through the thicket,’ he said. ‘We must try our luck in the open. If we run hard enough we can make the far trees and the slope. There’s a trail there I know well. It leads back through the glen to the stream.’

Bandach knew it was desperate: there are few hinds that can outpace a stag. But it was their only chance. Then, suddenly, Fourleaf did something extraordinary. She stepped backwards out of the thicket into full view.

‘Goodbye, Bandach,’ she called softly. ‘Herne be with you.’

Before Bandach even realized what was happening the Draila had surrounded the hind and were escorting her back to the group.

When they had gone he slipped out of cover and ran across the valley. The path through the wood that Bandach had talked of was a long way round to the stream and Bandach knew instinctively that he hadn’t much time. He ran desperately, hurtling through branch and thorn.

Every now and then the trees below him would thin out and he could see the Draila and at one point the wood opened completely and Bandach caught a view clean across the glen towards the Home Oak. He fancied he saw Drail and Sgorr on the hillock where Brechin had died, but on he ran, not daring to stop or look back.

The path began to drop again and Bandach followed it down. He was rounding a bend where the track swung sharply south when he suddenly lurched off the path to avoid two Draila who were blocking the way ahead. Bandach nearly tumbled down the hill, but he held his balance. The Draila heard him though and in an instant were on him. His attempt to avoid them had been a mistake, for now they had the advantage of height.

‘Bandach, we had heard you’d escaped,’ cried one Draila, as both deer lowered their antlers and advanced slowly towards him. ‘But where are you going now? Perhaps to warn Eloin that Sgorr wants Brechin’s fawn?’

Bandach backed away but his haunches were against a tree now. He dug in and prepared for the charge. The first deer threw himself forwards and Bandach rose to meet him. They collided heavily and their antlers knocked together with a loud crack, tearing some of the velvet from the Draila’s horns. The Draila had had the momentum of the slope and Bandach was dazed. But the Draila was winded too. He recovered himself and charged again as Bandach rose to the attack.

A thundering crack split the air as the deer’s heads collided. Bandach was holding his ground but on the next charge the second Draila came in too and, as he locked with Bandach, the first Draila dropped his head and aimed his brow tines straight at Bandach’s throat. Luckily, he slipped on the verge and his antler caught Bandach’s side instead, tearing through the fur to leave a deep gash. The two Draila regained their footing as Bandach looked down at the open wound. He was bleeding badly. The slope had given the Draila an impossible advantage. Bandach braced for the next charge.