‘What about all the other numbers?’ Uki asked. Being told not to do something always made him want to do it, and his ears had already started jumping about on their own.
‘Three is good,’ said Jori. ‘Do everything three times, if you can. Seven also. And nine and twelve are OK.’
‘Eight?’ Uki’s head was beginning to spin.
‘If it’s a feast day,’ said Jori. ‘And ten is good on a full moon.’
They were still throwing numbers at Uki when the church doors opened and a robed rabbit stepped out. He was dressed in layers of thick purple material embroidered all over with gold thread. On his head was a tall, funny-shaped hat, also purple, and he clutched a staff that was topped off with a carved spiral. He smiled kindly at them, although his dark eyes were serious beneath a frowning brow.
‘Ninefold blessings on you,’ he said, touching three fingers to his forehead. ‘My name is Father Klepper. How may Kether help you on this fine evening?’
‘We’re … um … looking for a place to stay the night,’ said Uki. He tried bobbing his head nine times, but lost count and added a couple of extra ones for good measure. Then he had a panic, in case he’d done fourteen by mistake, and added a few more.
‘Is there something wrong with you?’ asked Father Klepper.
‘Forgive my friend,’ said Jori, trying not to laugh. ‘He is very tired. We’ve travelled all the way from the twin cities, you see.’
‘All that way, on your own?’ The priest looked shocked. ‘Then you must come in and take shelter. Poor, poor children. And there’s a stable behind the church for your … gangly weasel.’
‘HE’S A …’ Kree began to shout, but Uki and Jori quickly bundled themselves inside the church and shut the door behind them, hoping that the thick wood would muffle most of their friend’s yelling.
They found themselves in a long room with a high roof. A window of tinted glass at the far end was letting in the rosy light of the setting sun. It seemed to glow, and filled the church with overlapping patches of colour. Uki stared at it, hypnotised. He raised his hands and smiled at the streaks of painted light tinting his fur.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ said Father Klepper. ‘We are just about to perform the evening count, if you would like to join us. After that, we will have some supper.’
He led them past rows of benches, where several other rabbits sat in prayer. Most looked like ordinary villagers, with simple cloaks and homespun clothes. One or two wore purple robes, like the Father.
‘What’s the evening count?’ Uki whispered to Jori, as quietly as he could. But the sound still managed to echo around the silent church and made him wince.
‘They count Kether’s sacred numbers every morning and night,’ Jori whispered back ‘Just open and close your mouth and pretend you know them.’
They sat down at the end of one of the benches and watched as Father Klepper walked to the front of the church, where there was an enormous mural of a rabbit with four outstretched arms. Lines ran between his limbs and ears, and there were numbers squiggled everywhere. It all looked very mysterious and solemn.
‘Ninefold blessings,’ Father Klepper began. ‘Please join me in counting the sacred numbers of the universe, as told to us by Our Lord. Let us begin. One, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four, fifty-five, eighty-nine …’
Soon, all the rabbits were joining in, their voices echoing around the church. Uki opened and closed his mouth in time, watching Jori from the corner of his eye and hoping that he wouldn’t be spotted. What if they ask you what the next number is? His dark voice had been quiet since the battle with Valkus, but now it decided to chip in, just to make him feel worse.
Luckily, it was soon over. As the rest of the rabbits began to file out of the church, back to their burrow-houses, Father Klepper motioned for Uki and Jori to follow him. They went through a small side door, which led to a courtyard. Kree was in one of the stalls, rubbing down Mooka’s fur with a handful of hay. A tired-looking piebald rat stood beside them, chewing a mouthful of oats.
‘We shall have supper in my house,’ said Father Klepper, ‘and then you may all sleep in the stable.’
It was a far cry from the feather beds and fireplaces they had been hoping for, but it was better than sleeping on the ground again, Uki supposed. Trying not to look too disappointed, they all followed the priest into his burrow.
Because the house-burrows were dug down into the ground, they appeared to be bigger on the inside than the outside. It took a little while for Uki to get used to the sensation, and Kree was even more confused.
But the place was very cosy. There was a large fireplace, a dining table in the middle and shelves covering the walls, all stuffed with books and scrolls. Uki wondered if they would be filled with numbers.
‘Please,’ said Father Klepper. ‘Be seated.’
As they pulled chairs around the table, the Father went into a small pantry at the back and began to bring out bowls of food and plates. He laid them on the table, adding cups and a jug of water. Soon, there was a tasty dinner spread before them: dandelion leaves, crusty bread, pickled beetroots, dried parsnips and carrots.
‘So,’ said Father Klepper, as they began to load their plates, ‘what leads three children to be wandering the Realms without a parent or guardian to take care of them?’
Uki’s mind instantly went blank. He froze, mid-mouthful, and stared at the Father, trying to think of some kind of explanation. Fortunately, Jori was good at this sort of thing. She spoke up quickly, while Kree was chewing and unable to ruin it.
‘We’re on our way to stay with our uncle,’ she said. ‘Our mother is too ill to come with us, and our father sadly passed away, Kether bless him. We’re travelling to Herongate warren, but thought it would be lovely to see some of the famous fens on the way.’
‘Ah, the Fenlands,’ said Father Klepper, shaking his head. ‘You had best stay away from them. A numberless hole of chaos and crime. I have tried several times to bring them the digits of Our Lord, but have been turned away. Sometimes with violence.’
‘We were just planning a brief visit,’ Jori continued. ‘There are said to be many rare and beautiful bird species there. And the customs of the rabbits are supposed to be fascinating. Do they really dress in frogskin?’
‘They are savages,’ said the priest, his ears beginning to tremble. ‘Just the thought of them and their beastly ways makes me shiver …’
‘But can’t you tell us anything about them? Perhaps, if they weren’t such a mystery, we wouldn’t be so curious to see them.’
‘I can tell you very little,’ said Father Klepper. ‘But if it keeps you out of that godless place … Reedwic warren is the most civilised part of it. You should be safe there. Beyond that … the tribes that live in the Fenlands themselves are best avoided.’
‘Are there many?’ Uki asked. ‘Tribes, I mean …’
‘There are two that I know of,’ said Father Klepper. ‘Two large clans or families. The Maggitches and the Gurdles. They are at war with each other, and have been for generations. It’s a bitter feud. I’m surprised they haven’t wiped each other out by now.’
‘Sounds like the plains tribes,’ said Kree, around a mouthful of carrot. ‘They quarrel for months then have a big party to make up.’
‘There’s no “making up” with these families,’ said Father Klepper. ‘They’re too primitive for that. They worship strange old swamp gods and paddle around that maze of water and mud in boats and rafts. They make their living – when they’re not trying to kill each other – by smuggling goods across the swamp. They would steal the very cloak from your back as soon as look at you. No, that place is forsaken by Kether, and rightly so. If you have any sense, you’ll head back towards the Coldwood and follow the road around the fen. It will take longer, but you’ll arrive in one piece.’
Uki had questions about the changes he had sensed in the swamp, but Father Klepper seemed too upset by mention of the fen
tribes to answer anything else. They ate the rest of the meal in silence and then made their way out to the stable.
‘Think on what I have told you,’ said Father Klepper, as he left them for the night. ‘Keep away from the swamp. Stick to the parts of the world that have been ordered and numbered.’
‘Well,’ said Kree, when the Father had gone back to his house. ‘He was a cheery one, wasn’t he? All that counting and praying has made him dull as ditchwater.’
‘He had a point, though,’ said Jori, as she spread out her cloak on a pile of straw. ‘The Fenlands are going to be very dangerous. We should try to find a guide of some kind at Reedwic.’
‘Poor Mooka,’ said Kree. ‘He’s going to hate all that water and gloopy mud. Swamps are for voles and otters, not jerboas.’
Uki curled himself in his cloak at the doorway of the stable, so he could look up and see the stars. The more he heard about the fen, the more worried he became. Shrikes, warring tribes, a gathering plague … how was he supposed to deal with all that? If it wasn’t for Jori and Kree, he would be completely helpless, but at the same time he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was leading them into danger. Again.
The stars moved slowly across the sky as his worries turned themselves over and over in his head. At some point, his eyes drifted shut and he slept …
*
The dream started almost immediately.
Except it wasn’t a dream. He was with Necripha again, seeing through her eyes, hearing her thoughts. There was a link between Necripha and Iffrit. Sometimes, usually when he slept, he got a glimpse into her mind. It was never very pleasant.
This time, the witch was standing in a copse of trees, deep in shadow. Uki could hear a river running nearby and there was a stretch of open, grassy land in front, with a thick pine forest in the distance. It looked like the Coldwood.
A road ran past the copse, wider than the one they had followed. It had deep cart ruts and lots of potholes. It led towards another walled settlement, off to the west. Bleakridge, Uki guessed. Jori had said it was the only warren north of the woods. Quiet and sleeping now, its gates were shut for the night. White chimney smoke from the slumbering burrows stood out against the black sky like chalk scribbles on a slate.
Uki could sense that Necripha was waiting for something. He could feel the waves of tension and impatience flowing through her. Her ears twitched, her fingers tapped. She was angry too. Probably because Uki had slipped away from her in Syn. That, or the fact he had captured Valkus before she could lure him over to her side.
A movement on the road drew her vision. She could see some figures coming her way, sneaking out of Bleakridge. One was vast and bulky (probably Balto, her henchman, Uki thought), the others smaller, hooded rabbits.
As they drew closer, Necripha stepped from the trees, making the smaller figures bow and grovel.
‘Mistress, mistress!’ Uki heard them whining.
‘Enough!’ Necripha hissed. ‘What has taken you worm-brained idiots so long? Didn’t I tell you we were short of time?’
‘Sorry, mistress,’ said Balto. He shoved one of the hooded followers forwards. ‘We had to wait for this one to arrive from Axen.’
Necripha glared at the rabbit until it started to cry. ‘Beat him!’ she commanded. Uki felt the old witch glow with pleasure as Balto thumped the cowering creature to the ground. When he was finished, she took another look at her recruits. ‘Five rabbits. Is this all we could manage?’
‘The others were too far away to get here in time,’ said Balto. ‘More have heard the call. They will be meeting us in Herongate.’
‘We’re not going to Herongate!’ Necripha hit her servant with the end of her staff. The stick simply bounced off his mountainous shoulders, without even making him flinch. ‘I can sense the spirit and that interfering little rabbit. They’re behind the Coldwood, in the swamps. That is where we need to go.’
Uki saw one or two of the new Endwatch servants shudder at the mention of the Fenlands, but Necripha didn’t notice, or care. She was already on the march, heading east towards the sea. If she walked all night, she would soon be on the path that Uki and his friends had followed, and after that it was just a day’s journey to Mudstock.
‘Can you hear me, spying little brat?’ Necripha tapped the bandage on her head. Uki shivered and squirmed in his sleep, remembering that terrible third eye that was hidden beneath it. ‘Are you in my head? You and that cursed guardian spirit of yours?’
Go away, Uki willed his dream-self to shout, wishing the words could flow through the night and blast Necripha off her feet. Leave us alone, you evil old hag. Isn’t our job hard enough without you chasing us?
‘I know where you are,’ Necripha continued, unable to hear any of Uki’s curses. ‘I’m coming to get you, child. I have servants looking for you, everywhere you go. And this time you won’t escape, no matter how many clever friends you have to help you.’
With a jolt, Uki woke up. He had kicked off his cloak during his vision, and rolled from his pile of straw. Now he was shivering – more from fright than the cold.
Kree, Jori and Mooka all slept soundly nearby. Snoring and twitching, completely unaware of the evil just the other side of the woods. How Uki wished he could be so innocent.
Still trembling, he curled back up in his cloak as best he could. Not to sleep, though. No. The thought of what he might see in his dreams was too terrifying.
Fighting to keep his eyes open, he stared up at the sky and waited until morning.
CHAPTER THREE
Needle
It was an hour or so after dawn when the others awoke. Father Klepper brought them each a bowl of hot porridge and honey, and they sat and ate while watching the Mudstock rabbits emerge from their burrows and go about their day.
Uki’s thoughts were still on his vision from the night before. He considered mentioning it to the others, but decided it was best not to. Jori was already worried about Clan Shrike, and Kree kept fretting over Mooka being in wet marshland. He didn’t like to give them yet more bad news.
Even so, he wanted to be on the move right away. The more distance they put between themselves and Necripha, the better.
‘You’re eating that very quickly,’ said Jori. ‘In a hurry to get somewhere?’
Uki cringed. He really wasn’t very good at keeping things secret. ‘No … well, yes. I just want to get into the fen. We need to stop Charice before her plague starts to spread.’ He reached up to tap one of the empty crystals on his remaining spear tips. The place the evil spirit would hopefully soon be calling home.
‘Hmm. You look tired.’ Jori was staring at him with her steely grey eyes. It was a very difficult gaze to hide from.
‘Oh, I just slept badly,’ said Uki. Which wasn’t completely a lie. ‘Tickly straw … bit cold. You know …’
Seeming convinced, Jori went back to her porridge. Then as soon as they were all finished, they dropped the bowls back to Father Klepper and went on their way, with a final warning about the godless, cursed marshes as a parting gift.
Reedwic was two hours’ walk away, along a straight and well-kept track. The land on either side was packed with fields, each one bursting with sprouting, swelling crops. Rabbits moved between the rows of growing vegetables, watering, weeding and hoeing. Uki could smell cabbages, turnips and carrots, tomatoes, potatoes and radishes. The air was thick with a planty, earthy scent that made his mouth water.
‘They call the land between the Coldwood and the Fenlands the “salad bowl”,’ Jori explained. ‘It’s especially damp and fertile. Good soil. Although it has been known to flood in winter.’
Uki spotted farmers’ houses in amongst the patches of vegetables. Some were made of wood and raised up on stilts. What a sweet, simple life, he thought. Tending and growing your crops in the sunshine. Nothing to worry about except caterpillars and the weather. And the plague that’s coming, his dark voice added. This place will be the first to die, if you don’t capture Charice.
>
At the thought of the spirit’s name, Uki could sense her. A growing, pulsing sickness, now closer than ever before. He stopped his daydreaming and quickened his pace.
It wasn’t long before Reedwic came into view. They could see the stone wall with its gate and guard towers. Red and green banners flew from flagpoles, and a stream of carts laden with crops were heading in and out. It might have seemed a bustling, merry place, if Kree hadn’t spotted the guards on either side of the entrance.
‘Look,’ she said, pointing. ‘Aren’t those soldiers wearing armour? Crimson armour?’
They all knew what that meant. Uki peered towards them, but his eyes weren’t as sharp as the little plains rabbit’s. It wasn’t until they were much closer that he saw the blood-red plates of the guards’ uniforms. Closer still and he could see three metal spikes jutting from the vambraces on each of their forearms. He shuddered, imagining how the Shrikes might use them to finish off their enemies. ‘I’m sure they’ll let us through,’ he said, more to cheer himself up than anything. Jori and Kree just looked at him, worried.
There was a short queue of carts at the gate, which they joined. Trying with all his might to look harmless and innocent, Uki snatched glimpses of the Shrike guards as they edged closer to the gate.
One wore a helmet with a face mask like a beak. The other had short grey fur and had daubed a stripe of black warpaint across his eyes. He wasn’t sure which one looked the scariest. They were examining each cart, poking and prodding the contents with their spears, before letting them into the warren.
The line of rabbits moved all too quickly, and soon they were standing in the gateway, facing the Shrikes. The spikes on their arms glinted like the fangs of an adder, basking in the sun. They were bronze, Uki saw, and honed to points so sharp it hurt even to look at them. It was all he could do not to tremble. He stepped up to face them, held his breath and …
‘Attention!’
Uki and the Swamp Spirit Page 3
