Fire Bringer (54 page)

Haarg peered through the darkness, back towards the pass, and though he could see them only dimly, he realized that the Sgorrla were retreating again.

‘Tomorrow we can try and break through,’ said Thistle.

‘And by then there may be even more of us,’ added Haarg.

‘More?’

‘Yes,’ said Willow quietly, ‘the Herla are coming from the north.’

‘But how . . . ?’ said Thistle.

‘Rannoch.’

‘Rannoch,’ cried Tain delightedly and Thistle gazed at Willow in wonder. The hind was smiling.

‘After you left,’ Haarg went on, ‘Rannoch raised the herd. Sent word north too. He kept talking about the Prophecy and it all being true.’

‘But where is he?’ said Thistle.

‘Herne only knows. He went west. Told me to catch up with you as quickly as I could and stop you trying to reach Sgorr. He said that I should make you wait until he came.’

Thistle looked very gravely at Willow.

‘Well it’s too late for that now,’ said Thistle quietly.

But the Outriders stirred around him. Though the air was chill in the bowl of night and many of them were badly wounded, talk of Rannoch and the Prophecy, the reappearance of Bankfoot and the twins, not to mention the sudden increase in their numbers, had lifted their spirits beyond measure. Hope was stirring once again.

Suddenly they heard a voice from above them that echoed angrily across the corrie.

‘Outriders,’ cried Narl in the darkness.’Outriders, listen to me. To resist is useless. You have new friends now and perhaps you think you can escape. But you can’t. If you give up now, I give you my word that none of you will be harmed.’

‘Narl,’ answered Thistle instantly and angrily, letting his voice range through the blackness, ‘save your lies. We are Outriders and will never surrender. But there are enough of us now to fight you and others are on their way.’

‘Indeed,’ answered Narl coldly, though there was some faint note of uncertainty in his voice. ‘But I don’t need to fight you, and you will never make it through the pass alive. Meanwhile, Lord Sgorr is bringing the Great Herd north and then what can you do? Die. I can simply hold you trapped here till then.’

‘Then do your worst,’ shouted Thistle.

But Narl’s voice had unsettled the Outriders.

‘Very well,’ whispered Thistle. ‘Until the morning. Then we will see.’

The distant stars shone down from the cold heavens as the Great Herd waited for dawn to break in the Low Lands and for daylight to herald their journey north. After so many moons here the land was grazed out and the trees browsed to the wood, and they were all expectant and restless. But something else was stirring through their ranks now in the darkness. News had just reached them of the battle at the corrie, together with strange rumours of Herla coming out of the High Land. Some of the Sgorrla even talked of Outriders and others muttered darkly of an old enemy.

A contingent of the inner Sgorrla was moving amongst them, checking up on the foreign herds and making sure that the Sgorrla had their orders for the next day’s exodus. It had all been carefully planned and Sgorr had given instructions that they should make for the corrie as fast as they could. But something else had made their commander especially vigilant. In the late hours of darkness Narl and ten Sgorrla had returned to the herd. Narl had been running hard and had asked to be shown into Sgorr’s presence.

‘What’s wrong?’ said one of the Sgorrla to the commander as they paced the herd in the darkness.

‘Who knows?’ answered the stag. ‘Something about these Outriders, I bet.’

‘Nothing to worry about?’

‘No, though it won’t please Sgorr. He was angry enough when he heard the prisoner had escaped and he’s nervous about the trek.’

‘We’d better watch it tonight then. What happened up there?’

‘A skirmish. We’ve got them pinned down though.’

‘So there’ll be some fighting.’ The commander shrugged.

‘A bit of mopping up. I doubt you’ll get to see any of it. You’ll have to get your kicks somewhere else. Make do with the Cleansing.’

‘I suppose so. Though there’ll be enough to think of in the coming suns.’

‘True enough,’ agreed the commander, ‘especially with all these humans moving west. Their stands, where they rest and feed by their orange light, are everywhere. We’ve lost a good number of the stragglers to their shining sticks already.’

‘Serves them right for straying,’ snorted the Sgorrla.

‘That’ll teach them the meaning of discipline.’

‘It’s a bit late for them to learn anything now,’ chuckled the commander.

Both the deer laughed. Their party had come to a copse that ran a little way along the edge of a meadow above the lake, where many of the fallow deer had settled. The commander and the Sgorrla were ahead of the others and they pulled up suddenly, the commander gesturing for the others to do the same. He had heard something through the copse, where the trees suddenly thinned out. It was a pair of fallow stags, whispering in the darkness.

‘But it was just a silly dream,’ one was saying.

‘No, I heard him clearly,’ said the other.

‘But you said you’d been dozing.’

‘Yes, but it was just as I was waking up. The voice came through the trees. As clearly as I’m talking to you now.’

‘And?’

‘And it told me to listen.’

‘Didn’t you go and see who it was?’

‘I didn’t care to,’ answered the fallow deer. ‘Besides, I was half asleep.’

‘There you are, then.’

‘No, it wasn’t in my dream,’ insisted the deer.’It was in the wood.’

‘And didn’t you ask who was there?’ said the deer gravely.

‘Of course I did.’

‘Well?’

At this the deer’s voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper.

‘The voice, it said this: ‘‘I am he you have betrayed. And I am you. I am. . .’’ ’ The deer paused.

‘Well?’ whispered the other deer.

‘Herne.’

The listening Sgorrla looked at each other in amazement but the commander shook his head.

‘Is that all?’

‘No. I went on talking to him.’‘What do you want of me?’’ I said.’‘For you to heal yourself,’’ came the voice.’‘But how?’’ I asked.’‘By listening to Herne’s Lore. You are what you are. Sgorr can never change that.’’ ’

Again the Sgorrla stirred but still the commander held them back.

‘ ‘‘But what should I do?’’ I said.’‘Look for me,’’ came the voice, ‘‘for I have come to free the Herla. To fulfil the Prophecy.’’ ’

‘The Prophecy,’ gasped the other deer.

‘That’s what he said. Do you know the Prophecy?’

‘I heard it when I was a young fawn,’ answered the fallow deer.’What else did the voice say?’

‘Nothing. After that there was nothing – just the wind in the trees. I called out.’‘Wait,’’ I cried.’‘Tell me more.’’ But nothing came back. I ran towards the place I’d heard it. . .’

‘Well?’

‘Well, this is the really strange thing. The trees were very widely spaced and there was a clearing. But there was no one there at all. No one.’

‘But it was dark. Maybe a calf was playing tricks.’

‘It was no calf. And in the clearing there were slots.’ Beyond the trees the Sgorrla looked wonderingly at their commander.

‘Shall we take them?’ whispered the deer who had been addressing him earlier.

‘No,’ he whispered back, ‘we don’t want any trouble so close to the trek. But if there’s any fighting to be done tomorrow make sure they are at the front of it.’

So the Sgorrla passed on and the fallow deer were left to discuss the strange visitation.

‘What do you think it means?’ said the Sgorrla as the commander led them through the night.

‘Just foolish talk,’ answered the commander.’I’ve been hearing such nonsense more and more of late. It must be because of the trek. The deer are nervous.’

The Sgorrla ran on until they came to the top of a wide meadow by a beech forest. The trees here were badly scarred and the branches broken away where the Sgorrla had been sharpening their antlers, for this was a Sgorrla training ground and among the groups spread across the meadow many pairs were locked together now, testing the strength of their antlers even in the dark. They never rested.

The commander moved through them, nodding his head approvingly at the sight of his stags. The Sgorrla were at the peak of fitness but, having been kept in training throughout Anlach, many of them were frustrated and spoiling for a fight.

Well, let’s hope there are some of these Outriders left, thought the commander to himself as he walked.

He reached a group of the Sgorrling, and smiled as he saw the prickets trying to sharpen their single antlers too. As he passed by, one of them looked up and nudged the deer next to him.

‘Hey,’ he whispered excitedly, ‘that was a commander.’

‘What do you know about it?’ said the Sgorrling next to him scornfully.

‘I know. I saw him training some of the Sgorrla yesterday.’

‘Well, what of it?’

‘I’m going to be a commander one day,’ said the pricket.

Some of the other Sgorrling looked up at him and smiled.

‘You’ll never make a commander,’ snorted one.

‘Oh yes I will, when my antlers have grown. Then I’ll show you.’

‘No you won’t. You’ll never even make the Sgorrla. You couldn’t fight a brailah.’

The deer lifted his head angrily.

‘Say that again,’ he snorted, coming forwards in the night.

‘I said you couldn’t fight a brailah.’

‘Do you want a tine in your eye?’

Now the second deer came forward. The two of them stood facing each other, testing the strength of each other’s gaze. Since they were only prickets they couldn’t lock antlers, but they knew how much damage a single antler could do. Suddenly they dropped their heads and began to spar, clicking and jabbing, trying to find a way through.

‘Go on,’ cried another pricket excitedly, ‘stick him.’ The others began to shout and stamp delightedly.

But suddenly the two Sgorrling pulled away and dropped their heads guiltily. A stag was standing behind them in the darkness.

He must have been six or seven years old and his great antlers rose frighteningly above them. They couldn’t see his face very clearly in the blackness but they all thought he was a Sgorrla.

‘Why are you fighting?’ asked the stag quietly. The young stags glared at each other.

‘He said I’d never make a commander,’ said the first sulkily.

‘And he won’t. You need to be able to really fight and you need strength and courage, don’t you? That’s why you’re in the Sgorrla, isn’t it?’

‘I?’ said the stag, and then he paused.’Tell me,’ he went on softly, ‘do you like fighting?’

Again the stags looked at each other, this time with surprise.

‘That’s what the Sgorrla are for,’ said the first.’That’s why the Herla are greater than all the Lera. That’s what Sgorr said before he started the Cleansing.’

In the darkness the young deer fancied he caught a furious glint in the stag’s eyes.

‘And you want to kill things?’ said the stag gently.

‘Oh yes, when I’m old enough.’ The stag shook his head.

‘And do you really think that is Herne’s way?’ he whispered in the night.

‘Who?’ said the pricket.

‘Herne. When I was a fawn,’ the stag said, smiling as he addressed all the youngsters, ‘I found many better things to do than fight, you know. We’d play for suns and suns, and listen to the stories of Herne and Starbuck.’

‘Play?’ said one of the prickets with interest.

‘Oh, yes,’ said the stag. ‘But I suppose Sgorr’s changed all that.’

‘Hush,’ whispered the Sgorrling that had spoken first.

‘You must call him Lord Sgorr.’

‘I’ll do nothing of the kind,’ answered the stag.

Now the youngsters looked at each other and there was fear in their eyes.

‘I’ll tell on you,’ said the youngster who had wanted to be a commander.’I’ll tell the inner Sgorrla.’

‘Come now,’ answered the stag without anger.’That isn’t very brave, is it?’

The deer looked down guiltily.

‘But if you really want to tell the Sgorrla, why don’t you say that there is a stag in the herd who thinks that Sgorr is nothing more that a lying soft-foot and the Sgorrla no better than vermin?’

The pricket shuddered.

‘Tell them that their days are numbered and that the fawns will one day run free again through the heather and play together as fawns should.’

With that the stag turned and vanished into the night, leaving the stunned Sgorrling looking after him in silence.

A wind had come up and above their heads the clouds were skitting through the sky, breaking up the surface of the heavens and fretting the canopy of stars with ribbons of darkness.

23 Eloin

‘If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine, I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine.’ Rudyard Kipling, ‘Mother o’ Mine’

On the edge of the Great Herd an old hind was looking up through the veil of night now, gazing at the twinkling specks of light that spattered the sky above her. They had no meaning for her, except in the tales told to her as a fawn, tales of Herne and Starbuck. As her eyes ranged the heavens they came upon two stars that were close together and brighter than the rest and suddenly the hind’s heart tightened in anguish.

‘Brechin,’ she whispered, ‘you’re up there, aren’t you? With my little Rannoch. You’re looking after each other.’

Eloin shook her head and looked around. There were Sgorrla all about her, but the guard had been told to stand off in a wide ring, and inside the ring two other hinds were coming towards her. Both were younger than Eloin but their muzzles were beginning to grey with age too. It was Shira and Canisp.

‘How are you, my dear?’ said Canisp as the two hinds came up.

Eloin smiled.

‘Well enough. But I was thinking about them.’ Canisp nodded.

‘Poor Eloin,’ she said. ‘I think about Bankfoot all the time.’

‘And I about Tain,’ sighed Shira.

‘Look at us,’ said Eloin sadly. ‘Three old hinds lost in the world, with nothing but our memories to feed on.’