Uki and the Swamp Spirit

by Kieran Larwood

  ‘So,’ Necripha said, when she had lapped a mouthful or two of mud-juice. ‘You did something to save us. How noble of you.’

  Uki cursed. She remembered everything.

  ‘Who are you talking to, mistress?’ Balto was now well enough to stand. Uki noticed that his head reached halfway up the pit side. It was too high for Balto to leap out himself, but if Uki could get on to his shoulders …

  ‘The patchwork brat,’ said Necripha. ‘The one the fire guardian chose. He’s over there, in the corner.’

  Balto looked around, his beady eyes twinkling beneath his heavy brow. Uki cringed.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I helped you. So maybe we can work together to get out of here?’

  Necripha cackled out a raspy laugh. ‘Oh, we’re friends now, are we? Because you were too stupid to let us die?’

  ‘I want his power,’ said Balto. He cracked the knuckles of one hand, a finger at a time. Snap, snap, snap, snap. The sound echoed around the pit.

  ‘You won’t be able to get it,’ said Necripha. ‘Iffrit has gone. Every part of him has been given over to the child. I know that for certain now. If there was a scrap of him left, he would have stopped the fool from saving us.’

  ‘So I’m not able to kill him?’ Balto scratched his stubby ears.

  ‘Of course you are. You can crush the life right out of him. He can’t stop you without his harness. He doesn’t have any power left, or he would have leaped straight out of this pit. And if he dies, whatever’s left of the fire guardian will go with him.’

  Uki jumped up, pressing back against the wall. It was just as he feared and now there was nowhere to run. ‘But … but … I saved you!’ he shouted. ‘And what about Charice? We could stop her together!’

  ‘Charice,’ repeated Balto. ‘She made us sick.’

  ‘Forget about her,’ said Necripha. She had struggled to her feet and was leaning against the muddy wall for support. ‘She’s too far gone to be any good to us. We shall go to Mortix and persuade her to join us instead. Then we can crush the weakened Gormalech together. After that we can destroy the goddesses, and then pick off all the remaining leftovers of the Ancients at our leisure. Charice will get what’s coming to her eventually.’

  ‘And the brat?’ Balto looked over at Uki, a smile beginning to spread across his face.

  ‘Kill him,’ said Necripha. ‘He’s no threat any more, but it will be one less thing to worry about.’

  ‘Good,’ said Balto. ‘I like killing.’

  With both meaty paws outstretched, he began to stalk across the pit towards Uki.

  I told you this would happen.

  Uki tensed his leg muscles, shook his head to clear it. This wasn’t the time for voices, he needed to think.

  Balto was big, yes. And very strong. But he had only just recovered from the deadly plague. He would be weaker, dizzier … maybe even slower. And he would be expecting Uki to just stand there, frozen in terror while he stomped towards him.

  Not likely, Uki thought.

  He made a dash towards the huge rabbit, ducking at the last minute and scampering between his legs. Balto swiped for him and missed, leaving Uki to sprint across the pit to the other side.

  The huge rabbit simply turned around and started walking towards him again.

  You’re in a pit, stupid. Running away won’t help. You can’t do it all night, can you?

  Night. It was nearly dark. Even if Uki could keep dodging, he would tire out eventually. And then when he slept …

  He looked again at how tall Balto was. How a leap from his shoulders might just make the edge of the pit …

  Uki was weaker without the crystals, true, but he still had the power that Iffrit had given him. He was much stronger and quicker than an ordinary rabbit. And that was something Necripha and Balto didn’t realise. They thought he had nothing without the harness. That they could snuff him out in a blink.

  I’m going to have to let him grab me, Uki thought. He’ll lift me up to try and kill me, and then I need to slip free somehow …

  Uki got ready for another dash, his galoshes slipping in the wet slime on the pit floor.

  Slime …

  As Balto neared, he ran again, this time diving flat on his face between the big rabbit’s legs. He made sure he rolled and wiggled in the soggy muck, and then paused for a fraction of a second – long enough for Balto to grab his leg.

  ‘Got you!’

  Balto heaved him up with one paw, and then grabbed Uki’s collar with the other. He slammed him up against the pit wall, hard enough to make sparks dance in front of Uki’s eyes.

  ‘Killing time!’ Balto drew back a fist, ready to pound Uki into muddy paste, but, as Uki had thought, his movements were slow and laboured, his body drained and famished from fighting for its life.

  By digging his back paws into the muddy wall, Uki was able to find enough purchase to kick upwards, yanking his slippery cloak and shirt from Balto’s grasp.

  His push took him high, smacking into the face and shoulders of the big rabbit, who staggered backwards in surprise.

  Uki dug deep, drawing on the fiery energy of Iffrit that kept him alive. He could sense each beat of his heart as it pumped a surge of adrenaline through him. He could feel all the muscles in Balto’s chunky neck as his feet found footholds, as his paws gripped the fat rabbit’s ears and fur.

  Quick as a flame, he clambered up on to Balto’s head, balancing on it for a moment as if it were a stepping stone in a lake. Then, with all the power in his legs, he kicked off, shooting up through the air, arms outstretched.

  He cleared the lip of the pit easily, half slipping through a gap in the crude wooden grille over the top. He hung there for a moment, scrabbling at the lashed-together branches, with his legs still dangling. For a few awful seconds, he thought Balto might grab one of his feet and pull him back in, but he gripped one branch with his paw, then another.

  Using his arms, he hauled himself out until his feet were clear and he could scramble across to the safety of the pit edge. From down below he could hear a spattering of wet slaps and slithers and the bubbly roar of a very large, very angry rabbit being dunked in wet mud.

  Balto must have been kicked to the ground with the force of Uki’s leap. I must have more strength than I realised, Uki thought. Even without the crystals.

  ‘Curse you, you little brat!’

  Necripha’s cries echoed up from the pit. She might have been cured of the disease, but being stuck down there without food or water … she would soon end up the same as that poor old skeleton.

  And Uki wouldn’t make the mistake of saving her twice. Allowing himself a little smile of triumph, he turned his back on the pit and ran off into the night.

  INTERLUDE

  The bard pauses in his tale and stands up to stretch. He smacks his lips and nudges the embers of their smoky campfire with a piece of old table leg.

  ‘Why have you stopped?’ Rue asks. He is lying on his stomach in a nest of blankets, from which he has been staring up at the bard, lost in the world of Uki. ‘It’s only midday. There must be loads of the story left to tell.’

  ‘Oh, there is,’ says the bard. ‘I was just thinking that a spot of chamomile tea would be nice. Perhaps you’d like to get the fire going again and boil me up some water.’

  ‘Not really,’ says Rue. ‘I want to hear how Uki escapes the Maggitch camp.’

  ‘You misunderstood me,’ says the bard. ‘It was an order, disguised as a question. Tea first, story later.’

  Rue, muttering under his breath, heaves himself up and begins walking around the ruined tower, collecting an armful of broken wooden furniture that is dry enough to burn. He casts a few glances over at Jori, who is sitting at her lookout post, carefully sharpening her sword with a whetstone she has taken from an embroidered leather pouch.

  As he brings the kindling back to the fire and begins to stack it in a pyramid, he clears his throat and asks her a question. ‘Would you have done it? Left Necripha to die
, I mean. Or would you have saved her like Uki did?’

  Jori looks up at him for a long while, her intense grey gaze more than a little intimidating.

  ‘That,’ she says, ‘is a difficult question. I’d like to think I would have saved her, if I had the power. But considering everything that happened because of her … perhaps it would have been better to let her die.’

  ‘What happened? What did she do? Did she escape as well? How?’

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ says the bard. ‘I’m never going to get my tea now. You can only feed him tiny bits of information at a time, and absolutely, definitely don’t give away any hints whatsoever.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Jori laughs. ‘I didn’t mean to set him off. He’s like one of those clockwork toys they make in Eisenfell. Wind up the spring and he’s away.’

  ‘Don’t laugh at me!’ Rue stands with paws on hips, the fire forgotten. ‘These are important questions! I need to know these things for my training!’

  ‘Let me worry about your training …’ says the bard, but he is interrupted by Jori suddenly raising a finger.

  ‘Shh!’ she says. ‘Did you hear that?’

  The bard and Rue freeze, ears pricked. At first Rue can’t hear anything except the cawing of a distant crow, but then he detects a soft rustling sound. Muffled, coming from within the tower.

  ‘The library,’ he whispers. ‘I think there’s something down there.’

  Jori leaps from the rubble, her sharpened sword at the ready. Like a wildcat padding after her prey, she slinks across the floor to the open trapdoor and crouches, listening.

  More rustling.

  Jori glances at the bard, wide-eyed, and then drops down into the Endwatch library below.

  ‘We have to help her!’ Rue hisses, and dashes over too. He is stopped by the bard grabbing hold of his cloak hood, but not before he has got his head into the cellar hole. He peers into the darkness, upside down, and sees Jori amongst the shadows, glimmers of light flashing from her sword blade.

  ‘Stop where you are!’ she shouts, and Rue sees there is another rabbit, over in the far corner. It is dressed in a black cloak, making it look like a moving shadow. Between it and Jori is a pile of torn scrolls and manuscripts, and it is clutching something in its paws. As Jori draws closer, there is a shower of bright orange sparks, some of which hit the jumble of ancient parchment, flowering into flames.

  ‘No!’ Jori yells. She leaps over the burning scrolls, sword slashing, but the intruder is already on the move. It cries out as the sword catches it somewhere, and flings a handful of books into Jori’s face. As she staggers backwards, the cloaked rabbit disappears down a hidden passage.

  ‘Goddess curse you!’ Jori shouts, and runs after it. Rue pulls against the bard’s grip, trying to struggle free.

  ‘Hold still!’ the bard tells him. ‘It’s too dangerous!’

  ‘There’s fire!’ Rue shouts back. ‘We have to put it out!’

  ‘Hern’s horns!’ The bard lets go of Rue’s hood, sending him toppling down into the cellar. A stack of old books breaks his fall. A few seconds later, and the bard comes slipping down the ladder. He hauls Rue up and they run over to the burning manuscripts, stamping at the flames and flapping them with their cloaks.

  Luckily, the pieces of tattered books and scrolls are more than a little damp and the fire hasn’t taken hold. A few frantic minutes of panic, and the sparks have all been put out, leaving a mist of pungent smoke and two panting rabbits.

  ‘Where did Jori go?’ the bard asks, peering around the dingy cellar.

  ‘There was an Endwatch rabbit in here,’ says Rue. ‘Jori chased it up a tunnel over there.’

  He points to a place in the darkness where there is a shadow deeper than those around it. A hidden passageway that they missed in all the searches.

  The bard and Rue stare at it, waiting for Jori to come back, clutching each other’s paws, breath held tight.

  Nothing happens for what seems like an eternity. Finally, there is a crunching, whomping sound. A cloud of chalky dust bursts from the tunnel into the cellar.

  ‘Jori!’ Rue cries. He sprints to the passage, but the bard holds him back again.

  ‘There must have been a collapse in the tunnel,’ he says. ‘It’s not safe.’

  ‘But Jori!’ Rue sobs. ‘She’s stuck up there! We have to dig her out!’

  ‘No need.’ A dusty face suddenly appears in the entrance, followed by the rest of Jori, covered head to paw in cobwebs, chalk and clumps of mud.

  ‘Clarion’s lute pegs!’ cries the bard, rushing to help her. He pulls her arm over his shoulder and, with a little help from Rue, they walk her away from the tunnel, over to the cellar ladder.

  ‘What happened?’ Rue asks, when she has had a few seconds to cough and sneeze all the dust out of her nose.

  ‘Damned Endwatch,’ Jori says, rubbing grit out of her eyes. ‘They had a secret way into the library after all. I must have walked past it three times or more. Looks like they were going to burn all the books and smoke us out.’

  ‘We stopped the fire,’ says Rue. ‘It was too damp to burn much, anyway.’

  ‘Well done.’ Jori ruffles his ears. ‘I nearly got the sneak-weasel who did it, but they’d set a trap down there. Whole tunnel crashed around my whiskers. I managed to dodge it, but the passage is completely blocked now. No way out.’

  ‘I bet he wouldn’t have got away if you’d had your potion,’ says Rue, scowling.

  ‘There wasn’t time to take it,’ says Jori. ‘But you’re right. And we might have been able to escape.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ says the bard. ‘At least you’re safe, and they didn’t smoke us out. All we have to do is sit tight. The Foxguard will be here soon enough, I’m sure.’

  Rue and Jori both nod. They make their way back up the ladder, where Rue manages to get their campfire burning and the water boiling for some badly needed tea. But all the while they each keep a nervous eye on the open door to the cellar. That dark, musty room that could be crawling with secret traps and tunnels.

  *

  It is the bard who suggests continuing the story of Uki. He can see Rue is shaken up: legs curled against his chest and ears twitching at the slightest rustle. Living through life-threatening peril for the first time must be difficult, the bard thinks. It’s not so bad when you’ve seen it on a regular basis. Since before you could walk, even.

  ‘Oh yes,’ says Rue. ‘That would be nice.’

  ‘We’re getting to the good bit now, Rue,’ says Jori, trying to perk him up. ‘The epic battle at the end. Always my favourite part.’

  ‘Do you take your dusk potion?’ Rue asks, his ears twitching up. ‘Do you do some amazing battle skills?’

  ‘All my skills are amazing,’ says Jori, smiling. ‘And I think I’m going to need some potion to deal with what the Maggitches have in store.’

  ‘Ooh! What have they got? Seven-headed snapping turtles? Giant, diseased snakes? Hordes of pus-dripping frogs?’

  ‘Now, now,’ says the bard. ‘Don’t get carried away. This is a true story, remember. Besides, Uki has to get out of the enemy camp first. And he still doesn’t have his crystal harness …’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Crispy Maggots

  The night sky above the Maggitch camp was cloudy, moonless. Uki could see shadowy outlines of huts and tents about him. Here and there were bare, twisted trees and straggly shapes that might be bushes. One or two thin lines of light were visible – the cracks of doorways or windows – but no torches or lanterns shone outside.

  This is a smugglers’ den, Uki reminded himself. Or at least it was. It’s designed to be invisible from the Shrikes. A campfire or lantern would be an instant giveaway.

  Uki moved into the cover of a broad, crumbling tree. He could smell the damp, rotting wood and the earthy scent of the fungi that were eating it.

  On instinct, he pressed his right, white-furred side against the trunk, knowing it would as g
ood as glow in the night, making him a target. But when he looked at his arms, both were covered in a thick coating of mud. He was finally all one colour, ears to paws. A dirty mud-grey, like a scoop of the swamp had come to life and started stalking about the fen.

  Uki gazed out at that mass of waterways and reeds. Somewhere amongst it all were his friends. He desperately wanted to run out to them, to get away from this sickening mound, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not without his harness and the crystals.

  Where were his friends, though? Had they been captured, like him? Or had they fought off the Glopstickers? And if they had, how would he ever find them again in this darkness? He would have to worry about that later. First, his weapons.

  He looked again at the silhouettes of the buildings. There were at least ten, and any of them could be hiding his things. Or something worse. And there could be dozens more huts or burrows hidden around the mound.

  If he waited until daylight, he would be spotted, mud coating or not. But perhaps there was another way. Iffrit’s senses allowed him to track the escaped spirits … might they be able to find the trapped ones?

  He could only try.

  Sitting with his back to the spongy wood of the tree, Uki closed his eyes and focused. He slowed his breathing and tried to think of nothing else but the spirits and their location.

  It was difficult. Being this close to Charice, all he could feel was the ebb and flow of her power. Pulses of sickly green energy that made his stomach clench.

  Focus. See beneath all that.

  He tried to let it wash over him. He imagined his mind splitting in two, becoming another rabbit looking down on himself, inspecting everything the original Uki sensed and felt. Sifting out each tiny detail.