Uki and the Swamp Spirit

by Kieran Larwood

  Uki looked round to where her jerboa lay, his side moving with shallow breaths. How could he tell her that the poor creature was close to dying? Would it be wrong to lie? ‘He’s fine,’ Uki said eventually. ‘I found him a bit of pasture to hop around in. He’s nibbling the grass and … and … he misses you.’

  Kree closed her other paw over his and gave it a weak squeeze. ‘You’re a bad liar, Uki. At least he will be with me on the Sky Plains. We will ride together again.’

  ‘No!’ Uki felt like shaking her, squeezing her, but he didn’t dare move her wounded body too much. ‘Don’t say that! You’re not going to die! You’re not!’

  ‘I think I am.’ Kree’s voice was just a whisper now, her eyes were closed again. ‘I think it will be soon. Will you do something for me, Uki?’

  Pawing away the tears that spilled from his eyes, Uki nodded. He found he couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t come.

  ‘Go back to the plains, once you’re done. Find my parents and tell them I was sorry. They didn’t really throw me out, you see. We had a big fight. My father wanted to use Mooka for leather to make a new tent. He said a tailless jerboa was useless. We fought about it so many times. One day he told me to get out and never come back.

  ‘I don’t think he meant it. He was just angry. I have a way of making people very angry, you know. I don’t expect you’ve noticed, but it’s true.

  ‘I was angry too, so I left. I took Mooka and ran away. I’ve often thought … if I went back … if I said sorry, I’m sure he would forgive me. He’d change his mind about Mooka too, if he could see how fast he is, how well I ride him …’

  ‘He would,’ whispered Uki. ‘I know he would.’

  ‘Papa.’ Kree was looking up at the sky now. Uki wasn’t even sure if she knew he was there. ‘Uk noo ha, Papa.’

  She fell asleep again then, or passed out. Uki couldn’t rouse her, not by gentle shaking, not by dripping water on her forehead. He had a horrid, pounding feeling that she might not ever speak again.

  ‘I don’t think she’s long for this world. I don’t think any of us are.’ A broken voice came from beside him. It took Uki a moment to recognise it as Coal’s. Leaving Kree to sleep, he hopped over to the smith’s side.

  ‘Are you expecting me to say sorry for all the bad things I’ve done in my life?’ Coal tried to laugh, but all that came out was a dry croak. ‘I don’t think I’d get through the list.’

  ‘You must be feeling better, though,’ said Uki. ‘You’re awake. You’re talking.’

  Coal groaned. ‘The fever’s stopped. I just feel cold now. Everything hurts. But don’t get your hopes up. I’ve seen this in sicknesses. A moment of clarity before …’

  ‘Please,’ said Uki, beginning to cry again. ‘Don’t say it. Don’t go. I can’t finish the job on my own.’

  ‘Just do your best.’ Coal’s voice began to fade. ‘You’re strong enough.’

  Uki shook his head. All his strength wouldn’t be enough to face this. Not on his own.

  ‘Uki.’ Coal pulled at the collar of his tunic, dragging out a small golden locket on a chain. ‘Do something for me?’

  Uki nodded.

  ‘When I’m … gone … into the Land Beyond. Will you bury me? Bury me with my locket.’

  ‘Of course,’ Uki said, forcing the words out. ‘Is that … your wife?’

  ‘A lock of her fur,’ said Coal, his eyes drifting closed. ‘The last piece … of my old life. Before my accident. I want to take it with me, when I go. You won’t burn me, will you? I’ve been burnt enough …’

  ‘I won’t,’ said Uki. ‘I promise.’ But Coal had slipped back under. His chest still moved with his breathing, but it was weaker now. Hardly there …

  Expecting Jori to wake next, Uki moved to sit beside her. Half of him yearned for the chance to speak to her again, half dreaded not knowing what to say.

  Either way, he didn’t have to wait long. She began to murmur and then fought to open her eyes.

  ‘Jori, it’s me. It’s Uki.’ He pressed a piece of wet blanket to her head and dabbed at her eyes so she could open them. Between the swollen red eyelids, he saw a sliver of grey.

  ‘Uki? Did we do it? Did we catch her?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Uki cursed himself again. ‘Not quite. She got away, but as soon as you’re better, we’ll be after her again.’

  ‘Not me. I don’t think … I don’t think I’m going anywhere.’ She gave a long, violent shudder. Uki took off his cloak and spread it over her.

  ‘Please, Jori,’ he said. ‘Don’t leave me. I’m so sorry … This is all my fault.’

  Jori stretched a paw out of the blankets and laid it on Uki’s shoulder. The effort seemed to take all of her strength. ‘No. Not your fault,’ she whispered. ‘I’m glad. Glad I met you. You’re my best … best friend.’

  Her paw fell away, and she let out a pained, gasping breath. At her nose, a fat droplet of bright red blood formed and then trickled down the side of her face.

  Uki sat and looked at it. That splash of vivid red against the grey fur. The life of his friend was in that drop, he thought, all her thoughts and hopes and scowls and laughs … everything that made up Jori.

  And now it had just trickled away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lord Maggety-Pie

  For many long, heartbroken minutes, Uki sat and stared at the streak of blood on his friend’s face. It was somehow worse than seeing the scores of seeping bites all over her body. Worse than hearing her breath rattle or feeling her paw drop, lifeless, away from his shoulder.

  He was still staring when two magpies flew overhead, breaking the silence with their stuttering, cackling cries. Ak-ak-ak-akkak-ak!

  Uki stopped his mourning, watching them flutter past, remembering the moment outside the mayor’s fortress in Syn when all had seemed hopeless. He had seen two magpies then, when he’d thought about the rope. They had shown him he was on the right track, as if they were some kind of sign or message.

  But what could they be telling him now? What had he been doing when they appeared?

  Nothing. Just staring at Jori’s blood and feeling hollow, alone and empty.

  Blood.

  It came to him, then.

  He was the only rabbit not to be sick. Because of Iffrit. Because of how the spirit had merged with him. But the poison from the insects had gone into him, just the same. His body had been filled with it – he had even felt it. So what had killed it off? How had it been burned away?

  ‘Iffrit is in my blood.’ He spoke the words aloud, even though there was no rabbit left awake to hear them.

  Uki jumped up, holding his paws out in front of him. Did that mean … ? Could it be possible? What if he gave some of his blood to Jori and the others? Would it contain enough of Iffrit to kill Charice’s plague? Could there be tiny pieces of the fire guardian in it that would fight off the infection somehow?

  He had to try.

  Careful not to move her too much, he pulled back the blankets from Jori and drew her sword. The evening sun gleamed along the blade, picking out the ripples in the steel. He had expected it to be heavy – and it did seem to have a great, solid weight – but it was so well balanced, it sat perfectly in his paw.

  ‘Don’t chop off a finger, Uki,’ he muttered to himself as he touched the tip. Wincing, he pushed very gently. There was a sharp, burning feeling as the edge sliced straight through his fur and into his flesh.

  ‘Ow!’

  He held up his finger and saw blood welling there. Quite a lot, actually. The sword was very sharp. Setting it down, he moved back to Jori and dangled his bleeding finger near her open mouth. A drop fell on to her tongue and trickled back into her throat. He saw her neck move in reflex. She had swallowed it.

  Please work, please work, he prayed to himself, moving on to do the same for Kree and Coal before his rapid-healing power stitched his wound shut. He even braved the long, curved teeth of Mooka to smear some on the jerboa’s tongue.

  A little w
hile had passed by the time he got back to Jori. He stood, watching her, holding his breath. If this didn’t work, there was nothing else he could try. And he was certain she wouldn’t live to see the morning.

  One minute crawled by, then another. The last dregs of hope were just beginning to drain out of him when he noticed something: a flicker beneath Jori’s eyelids.

  Could it be? He moved closer, willing it to happen again. ‘Come on, Jori,’ he said, under his breath. ‘Come on.’

  Her eyes flickered again. A trembling, butterfly flutter.

  Uki took her hand. Did it feel warmer, or was it his imagination?

  And then she coughed.

  ‘Yes!’ Uki punched the air. The blood was working!

  He watched for a few moments more. Jori was still fast asleep, but she moved and twitched like a normal sleeper now, not the stony, cold sleep of the dying she had been lost in. She smacked her lips and groaned a little. Her ears gave a twitch.

  Looking across, Uki saw Coal and Kree had begun to stir as well. They might take some time to come back to themselves, but the process had begun.

  Relief spread over Uki like the sun breaking through storm clouds. Death had been so close, he was surprised he hadn’t seen Nixha herself, stalking through the village with her bow.

  Seeing as nobody was watching him, Uki did a little dance right there on the raft. He hopped and jigged and skipped, until he had spun himself around to face all the other rabbits, still in the grip of plague.

  Oh, he thought. That’s going to take a lot of blood.

  *

  By the time he had finished, it was dark. He had needed to jab the tips of all his fingers as he went around the fifty-seven Gurdles, dabbing a drop of blood into each of their mouths. The tiny cuts had healed quickly, thanks to Iffrit’s powers, but all that spiking and squeezing had made him feel a bit queasy.

  He had just kindled a fire on the bronze stand and was feeding it some logs, when he heard his name being called. Faintly at first, but growing stronger.

  He turned around to see Jori, sitting up amongst her blankets. She still looked terrible – her face all bloated with bites and stings – but her eyes were open.

  ‘Uki?’ Her voice was weak and crackling with dryness. ‘Is that you?’

  He threw a few logs into the growing blaze and dashed over to his friend, throwing his arms around her and squeezing until she yelped.

  ‘Ow! Stop! Everything hurts …’

  ‘Sorry! Sorry!’ Uki let her go and then ran to grab the water pail. He scooped out a cupful and held it to her lips. ‘Here, drink this,’ he said. ‘You’ve been very ill. I thought you were going to die!’

  Jori took a gulp from the cup and then two or three more. When it was empty, she sat back and groaned. ‘Was it those bugs?’ she said. ‘I remember them hitting us. They were biting me all over …’

  ‘Yes,’ said Uki. ‘They were carrying some kind of plague. Everyone in the village had it, but I recovered. I didn’t know what to do, until I thought of giving you all some of my blood.’

  ‘Blood?’ Even under the scores of bites and blisters, Jori looked horrified.

  ‘Just a drop,’ said Uki. ‘I guessed it might have something in it from Iffrit. Something that could fight off Charice’s sickness.’

  ‘Of course. Iffrit must have been immune to all her diseases. Otherwise she could just have poisoned him and escaped. That was good thinking.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Uki. ‘I’m hoping all the others will wake up soon too.’

  ‘Then you’d better get some food on,’ said Jori. ‘I can’t move a whisker without it hurting, but I’m as hungry as a starved badger.’

  *

  Uki didn’t know much about cooking, but he had watched his mother make soup many times. He found a tripod big enough to hold a large pot and set it up over the fire. Then, using a candle to light his way, he raided all the nearby houses for vegetables. Turnips, onions, potatoes, carrots; he threw them into the pot with some water and let it boil and boil. When the vegetables were soft, he mashed them up until he was left with a mushy puree. It probably didn’t taste too good, but he figured the poorly rabbits wouldn’t care.

  By the time he’d finished, nearly all of them were awake, groaning in pain and staring around with bloodshot, bleary eyes.

  He paused in his cooking to hug Kree and pat Coal awkwardly on the shoulder. He even gave Mooka a cuddle and was rewarded with a neek. The jerboa seemed to understand that Uki had saved him.

  Then he scooped a bowl of soup from the pot and began to offer it to them, holding the spoon like a father with his baby, patiently waiting as they slurped up tiny mouthfuls. He mopped their chins, gave them some water, then settled them in their blankets again, the sound of their gentle, painless breathing like music to his ears.

  Once his friends had eaten, he did the rounds once more, tending to every rabbit, spoon-feeding each one. He told them what had happened, assured them all their loved ones were safe, and made them as comfortable as he could. At some point during the night, after all his patients had woken, eaten and fallen asleep again, Uki collapsed amongst them, every bone aching from exhaustion, and slept himself.

  *

  It took three whole days for the Gurdles to recover. The lumps and swellings from the bites gradually went down. Eyes opened, rabbits started hobbling around and then walking. By the end of the third day, they had all gone back to their boats, and the square in front of Ma Gurdle’s longhouse was empty.

  All that time, Uki had worried about Charice. He knew she would be gathering her strength, building up a new cloud of plague-bearing bugs. How long before she had enough to attack Reedwic? Or to spread her diseases outside of the Fenlands to other warrens?

  Just as the sun was setting on the third day, Ma Gurdle summoned Uki and the others to her house. They had been staying at Bo’s boat-tent, sleeping on the floor, with Mooka tied up outside on deck. Jori, Kree and Coal were almost back to full health now, although they still had speckles of crusted blood here and there where the insects had bitten them. You could see them the most on Coal, on the patches of bare skin and his ears. It looked like he’d been attacked by a giant hedgehog, or rolled back and forth in a bed of pins.

  They stood together inside Ma’s house, waiting for her to hobble out from her bedchamber. The sickness had hit her hard and she was having trouble walking. Her fur was flecked with scabs as well, and her giant frog still hadn’t returned.

  Two other Gurdles helped her to her chair, where she sat, huddled in her feather cloak, staring hard at Uki and his friends. There was a look of cold, calculating fury in her eyes and Uki worried it might be for him, even though he had just saved her life.

  ‘You’s probably wondering why I asked you here,’ she said.

  ‘We haven’t … done anything wrong, have we?’ Uki asked.

  ‘Wrong?’ Ma Gurdle opened her mouth and let out a long wheeze that might have been a laugh. ‘Bless my bunions, no. If it wasn’t for you, Uki, we’d all be feeding the eels right now. The whole Gurdle clan. Every member of my family. No, nothing you could ever do would be wrong by us. Not for as long as you lived.’

  Uki blushed under his fur. Everywhere he went in the village, rabbits were thanking him and hugging him. All the attention and gratitude was so new, so strange to Uki. To have the love of a whole village, when all he had known from his own was hatred. Was this what being part of a tribe was supposed to be like? Rabbits actually pleased to see him, instead of running in fear? Kind words instead of insults? How he wished his mother could be here to see him being treated like a friend instead of an outcast.

  He even had a pile of gifts back at Bo’s house. Mostly pairs of frogskin trousers and necklaces of snakes’ fangs. And all just for using the powers that had come to him almost by accident. He really didn’t feel as though he deserved such special treatment.

  ‘I called you here,’ Ma Gurdle continued, ‘because you asked me something, back before them thrice-d
amned Maggitches set their bugs on us. You asked for our help to find them, so you could stop them stinking up the fen with their poison curse.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Uki. ‘Now I know that Granny Maggitch is behind all the sick marsh creatures. I have to stop her before she attacks anybody else.’

  ‘Last time, I said no to you, I recall.’

  Uki nodded. It seemed like months ago, instead of just a few days.

  ‘Well, I won’t be making that mistake again.’ Ma Gurdle reached out for Uki’s paw and held it tight. ‘We Gurdles are with you, Lord Maggety-Pie. Any help you need, we’ll give it. It’s high time we took care of them Maggitches once and for all. We’ll take you right to them and then we can box their bollycrackers together. What d’you say to that?’

  ‘That … that would be amazing!’ Uki said.

  ‘Righto, then.’ Ma Gurdle let go of his paw and stood up, with help from the rabbits standing by her chair. ‘We’ll need to send out a scout or two first. I reckon they’s squirrelled themselves away on Gollop’s Mound, but we ought to be sure. Then the whole family will head out together. There’s going to be a reckoning. A muckle gurt reckoning.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Uki, as Ma Gurdle was helped back to her bedchamber. ‘Thank you very much!’

  Ma Gurdle waved a hand as she disappeared through a door at the back of the house. Coal gave a low whistle. ‘A reckoning, eh? I’ve heard them talk about those. The last one was fifty years ago or more.’

  ‘What are they?’ Kree asked. ‘Some kind of fight? Or maybe a racing challenge, like the plains tribes have?’

  ‘More like a war,’ said Coal. ‘One that might settle the feud between the families once and for all.’

  ‘Perhaps we should go with the scouts tomorrow,’ said Uki. ‘If we can find the Maggitches and sneak into their camp, there might not have to be any fighting. I only want to stop Charice. I don’t want anyone to be hurt.’

  ‘Good idea, Uki,’ said Jori. ‘Or should I say … Lord Maggety-Pie.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ said Uki. ‘I don’t ever want to be called that again.’