The Black North

by Nigel McDowell

  Firelight was reflected far – a mirror made by the lough the town was built on. Oona thought it must’ve given Innislone some protection, the surrounding water. And hadn’t Bridget mentioned something about bridges? Oona couldn’t see any, but couldn’t see much. What she did see was fire being kindled by Invaders and launched on the end of long arms, hurled by a snapping mechanism and then falling on the buildings closest to the edge of the town. The flames took quickly, chewed-up and spat out whatever they fed on, fragments of Innislone ending life in the lough in a final gasp of steam.

  ‘How the hell have they even survived this long?’ asked Oona.

  ‘Sometimes sheer stubbornness can work wonders,’ said Merrigutt, landing on Oona’s shoulder. ‘But they’ll not hold for much longer.’ They watched more flame leap across the lough and land. They saw more houses collapse. ‘Till dawn,’ whispered Merrigutt. ‘By sun-up, Innislone will be at the bottom of that lough.’

  Oona couldn’t disagree.

  ‘Is there some other way to get to the Divide from here?’ asked Oona.

  ‘If you’re still set on this,’ said Merrigutt, ‘then across the lough is the quickest way. Over to the far shore, then only a bit farther on. But if we hadn’t gotten ourselves into this situation, if you hadn’t gone to that Big House then –’

  ‘But I did and there’s nothing I can do about it,’ said Oona. ‘We can’t go back. We’re here now, so how are we gonna get by this mess?’

  ‘All up to me now, is it?’ said Merrigutt.

  ‘Yes,’ said Oona. ‘It’s about time you showed some of this North magic that I’ve heard so much about. Or is at all just talk?’

  She felt the jackdaw stiffen.

  ‘You’d better get ready to run like blue blazes, my girl!’ said Merrigutt. ‘You want North magic – then keep your eyes wide and watch.’

  25

  Oona caught Merrigutt’s transformation more clearly than she’d done any other time, but still it was too quick: just jackdaw-then-old-woman in a blink-quick glimpse. The old woman Merrigutt shook herself, and then started a rifling with one long-fingered hand through the black that covered her, eventually finding another pinch of scarlet powder. She gave Oona a wink, and then began a slow stroll down the slope.

  ‘Where are you going, woman?’ said Oona. ‘They’ll see you!’

  Merrigutt didn’t answer. She looked to be letting the powder leave her hand slowly, at the same time back-walking and muttering, changing direction like it was precise. Backing and backing until she was back by Oona, who stood and looked out over the broad scarlet pattern dropped on bogland: it had been laid out in the shape of a man.

  ‘Suppose it’s impressive enough,’ said Oona. ‘But how does a nice pattern help us to –?’ The bog began to twitch and churn.

  ‘Better step back a wee bit there,’ said Merrigutt. She was smiling.

  Within the shape Merrigutt had drawn, all grass and earth and bush and falling bog-water was lifting, tearing itself up, was lifting to stand massive. Oona herself stepped back and back. She lifted her gaze to look and couldn’t look high enough, the figure of the bog-made man towering tall. And she wasn’t the only one watching – a new urgency could be heard in the voices of the Invaders attacking Innislone, shouts and callings as they stopped their attack on the town to watch.

  ‘They mightn’t be unused to the sight,’ said Merrigutt, ‘but unlike their Muddgloggs, this is our own solitary soldier. He’s a man, but one that’ll at least do as he’s told.’

  Oona was still watching: felt dumb in her gaping but she could do little else. The bog-soldier’s head was a dark eclipse across moon, and Oona saw a pair of rough openings like eyes that allowed moonlight through. And did he look to Merrigutt then, wanting orders? She saw the old woman nod, and the bog-man nod back in reply. Then he began to stalk down the slope, into the hollow, towards Innislone.

  ‘Now follow,’ said Merrigutt. A twitch and small hop and again she was a jackdaw, again onto Oona’s shoulder. ‘Now run!’

  Oona had to swerve to avoid the place where the bog-soldier had lain before being summoned: a deep pit in his image, new scar on the South. She stayed close in his shadow though, hoping to remain unseen. But as the bog-man walked he lost pieces of himself, great clumps of sog and clay and damp dark falling to the ground.

  ‘He won’t hold together long,’ said Merrigutt. ‘Hurry!’ It was a command for Oona and the bog-soldier both –

  In only two or three strides he reached the lough and the army of Invaders were sent scattering. Oona reached the shore less than a minute later and saw a single currach bobbing, abandoned, a single oar resting across. She ran to the boat and leapt in. Oona had never rowed a boat but didn’t dwell – she’d have to give it a go – what else could she do? She pushed off from the shore and began to beat her way towards Innislone.

  Merrigutt told her, ‘I’ll fly ahead and warn the Lough-Master that you’re crossing, otherwise they might shoot. Don’t have long of our soldier left by the looks of him.’

  The jackdaw left, and Oona half-turned, looking up – true enough, their bog-man was returning to the earth, one vast limb at a time. His arms were easing away from his body, falling and sending more Invaders scampering. And still Oona smashed at the water, trying to move herself on. Then Merrigutt was back, perching on the rim of the boat and saying, ‘All right, they say they’re gonna open a bridge for you. Row faster!’

  Oona had no breath to spare for speech. She worked hard towards the wooden platform she saw being lowered, a section of the wooden wall that enclosed the town being opened in one of the few parts of Innislone not crawling with flame. Then a shout from behind her –

  ‘There! Look! Someone’s crossing!’

  Oona swore as the surface around her was broken by gunfire.

  ‘Look out, my girl!’ called Merrigutt.

  Oona turned to watch: body sinking, the final piece of the bog-soldier was falling, the massive dark of its head tumbling and –

  ‘Damn,’ said Merrigutt. ‘Hold on.’

  Oona dropped the oar and clamped hands around the rim of the currach as the bog-man’s head hit water and a wave sprang high. No more rowing was needed – the boat was rushed towards the wall of Innislone, was flipped and Merrigutt was lost to the air as Oona fell into the water. The lough was so cold it stole her breath. A fast runner, quick climber, but not a strong swimmer – Oona surfaced and straight away shouted for help.

  ‘Here, girl!’

  A man of Innislone was at the wooden platform. He swung and flung a line to her. It landed beside her hand and she took it as gunfire cracked wood and water and the Innislone man reeled Oona in as fast as you would a limp fish. At the platform he took her under the arms and lifted, shouting, ‘Close it up now!’, Oona’s feet and hands just avoiding being taken off as the bridge snapped shut behind.

  26

  The man who’d removed Oona from the lough dropped her on her feet and threw orders to others: ‘Barricade that bridge up, best you can do! Don’t let anything get in!’

  Oona watched boards stacked and held, nailed like it might do some good against the siege, all men and all hands working to try to keep Innislone secure. Everything around was wood – flat-roofed houses, encircling wall, boards underfoot. And everywhere too was the keenness of encroaching fire. One thing not seen though – Merrigutt.

  The man who’d saved Oona continued with his orders: ‘You lot – keep watch to the North for more Invaders! You three – keep water going to the houses at the edges, keep them as damp as dishcloths!’

  Oona saw a system near by being pumped, water from the lough sucked up and splashing out into a small reservoir, the surface steaming in the climbing heat. Buckets went in and the men lugged them away.

  ‘Faster!’ the man called. ‘Quickly, fellas!’

  This Innislone man wasn’t like any Oona had seen in Drumbroken: he was all muscle and agitation, wide chest working fast to fill him with breath, all of him sh
arp-edged, hair and clothes singed short, blades all along his belt going from the long to the small, from smoothest to serrated. Both his arms were tattooed with fish scales.

  ‘We won’t give in!’ he was hollering. ‘Remember, fellas: this is the town that won’t be drowned!’ He saw Oona doing so much watching, then kneeled down as though in deference, laid two huge hands on her shoulders and demanded with sudden anger, ‘What the hell do you think you’re at, coming here now? You think we’ve time to fish wee girls out of the lough? Where are you from, anyway? Everyone’s supposed to be going South, I’ve been spreading that word as far as I can! Are you Drumbroken?’

  Oona nodded, then saw around the man’s wrist a braid of blackened churnstaff, and then said, ‘You’re Billy O’Riley.’

  ‘I’m Lough-Master here,’ said Billy, nodding once. ‘But give me the talk from Drumbroken – did all get out? Are all on the way South? What about the O’Riley family, did they escape? My niece, Bridget, she’s about your age – is she safe?’

  Oona said nothing.

  And suddenly Merrigutt was back on Oona’s shoulder to say, ‘Never mind all that now – we’ve ourselves to worry about! I’ve had a quick look from above and this place doesn’t have long, Lough-Master!’

  ‘And why-come you’re here?’ said Billy O’Riley. He stood. Stood back, letting his arms fold tightly across his chest. ‘Why now? Coming here so late with your North magic, why not earlier? Why not when them Invaders were crossing the Divide? What good is it now, your tricks, with them all at our door?’

  ‘I don’t answer questions,’ said Merrigutt. ‘You won’t be interrogating me like one of your docile wives. I haven’t come here to make things right and save you. I’m here because this girl is here, and that’s the height of it!’

  Oona watched Billy O’Riley. She saw his fingers flex, fists being thought of.

  ‘We’re going into the North,’ said Oona. ‘Into the Black.’

  Those who’d been moving so swiftly around them were stilled. Like the tension that follows the dropping of a pot in a crowded room, Oona was at the centre of their shocked attention.

  Some moments, and then slowly the Innislone men resumed whatever rushing or hurrying they’d been in the middle of, most shaking their head at the young girl and her ridiculous words.

  ‘Then you’re as much for the fire as the rest of us,’ said Billy O’Riley. Then an explosion and shouts from someone of, ‘Look out!’

  More fire came streaking through the air and Oona ran as a whole house was made splinters on impact. Ran to nowhere – no escape.

  ‘They’re doing this on purpose,’ Oona told Merrigutt. ‘The Invaders could’ve had this place burned down ages ago but they’re playing. Like they’re trying to torture the people here.’

  ‘Or kill time,’ said Merrigutt. ‘Keeping the men of Innislone busy while the Invaders move their armies further South. And the people here are falling for it. Fools.’

  Oona looked back – O’Riley the Lough-Master hadn’t budged. He was as solid in his standing, shouting to his men, ‘Bring more water! Put out that fire! We can’t let any more flames take hold! We won’t be defeated here!’

  Did he sound, Oona thought, like he was enjoying it all?

  ‘Faster!’ shouted Billy O’Riley. ‘Quicker now! We’ll not let them get the better of us!’

  But no matter what commands the Lough-Master tossed, Oona knew it was only chaos ruling Innislone. Just someone hadn’t told Billy O’Riley. So she ran back to the Lough-Master and told him, ‘You need to stop this. It won’t work. There’s no way to stop the fire. We’ve seen it from farther off, so believe me!’

  O’Riley heard, but hardly half-turned to smirk a little and say, ‘Is that right? And you’ve some better ideas mebbe?’

  ‘Your men aren’t good with guns,’ said Oona, remembering Bridget’s words.

  ‘And you are?’ said O’Riley.

  ‘Yes,’ said Oona. ‘I am.’

  ‘Look,’ said the Lough-Master, ‘I’ve no time to babysit, and if that creature there on your shoulder can’t be helping then I’ve no more to say to the either of you!’

  And Billy moved to leave.

  Oona needed him to listen, and she had only one way, so she told him: ‘Bridget was taken by the Invaders and we’re going to try to rescue her.’

  It did the job – the Lough-Master stopped.

  ‘Bridget was my best friend,’ said Oona, all concentration on Billy. ‘I tried to help her and would’ve done anything I could but I couldn’t do a thing. There was no saving her. But now I’m trying. I’m trying to find my brother and Brid too if I can, and we’ll need your help to get us on our way to the Divide.’

  Billy O’Riley said nothing, did nothing: just stood in his unshiftable way, breathing shallow. His hands for the first time were loose at his sides, shoulders hunched.

  ‘I thought,’ said Billy O’Riley, and from a man so large issued a voice suddenly small. ‘I thought, when I saw you running on down into the hollow there, in the shadow of that thing – I thought mebbe it was herself come down to fight, mebbe Bridget. Would’ve been just like her, doing something so stupid.’

  ‘It would’ve indeed,’ said Oona. ‘But I can be just as stupid.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ Merrigutt said.

  Then another explosion and everything cowered. A curtain of flame was drawn, crossing the wall that surrounded Innislone. And Oona saw in Billy’s eyes the same knowledge she had: it wouldn’t be stopped, there was no way to save the town.

  Billy looked to Oona. His head fell forwards, his mouth grappling with something unpleasant. Then he said, at last: ‘All abandon. There’s nothing we can do now.’ He said to Oona, ‘Come with me, quick. There’s only one way to escape from all this now.’

  27

  Oona ran with Merrigutt flying beside and Billy O’Riley a bit ahead. Oona didn’t spot a single house untouched by fire. Everything was folding, boards beneath her feet groaning, opening to drop buildings into the lough. Figures were faint in their flitting between places, shrouded by smoke.

  Billy O’Riley shouted back to Oona, ‘Close! Stay close now!’

  ‘Look out!’ called Merrigutt. ‘Follow the way I fly, my girl!’

  The jackdaw made a swift turn left and Oona followed, only avoiding falling flame by a few steps as a fireball dropped, exploding, spreading itself.

  ‘Almost there now!’ the Lough-Master told her.

  They arrived at a row of buildings on the edge of town: flat-roofed, small, more like sheds than anything, but with people and more people all piling in.

  ‘Here now,’ said Billy, and he opened the door of one for Oona.

  Inside, a small window on the far wall showed the lough – it looked alight. But Oona was more struck by smell than seeing and pinched her nose shut. She stood in a storeroom filled with fish: packed into crates, pale bodies stranded among thawing ice or hung from the ceiling, wood-smoked and stiff. On a second wall she saw veg and fruit – carrots and spuds and beans and scallions. And on the third – plenty of bread in all sizes alongside small spheres of cheese and earthen bowls of butter and cream and whey.

  Merrigutt went to the small window to watch. She said, ‘Lough-Master, whatever’s gonna be done you’d better do it fast.’

  Billy said, ‘First things first, old bird.’ And to Oona’s shoulder he added a leather satchel, saying, ‘Doubt if the Sorrowful Lady lady herself would know when you’ll next see food or water if you’re going into the Black.’ He packed the satchel, filling it with whatever his hands fell on.

  ‘Take this. And then this, too, you’ll need it all.’ Rushwater in a narrow bottle, corked; the smallest, fattest pair of loaves; a clutch of damp strawberries Billy wrapped in linen; a pear and two rainbow trout … the satchel soon hung heavy on Oona’s shoulder.

  ‘Not too much,’ said Merrigutt. ‘She’ll be like a dead weight if she falls into the lough.’

  ‘You know what the Nort
h is,’ said O’Riley, his look askance, to Merrigutt. ‘You know well enough.’

  ‘Do indeed,’ said the jackdaw. ‘Have you been over the Divide yourself?’

  ‘No,’ said O’Riley, ‘and I’ve no desire to. No business of ours what goes on up there.’

  ‘Sounds like some fear there to me,’ said Merrigutt, then said no more. She seemed somehow satisfied.

  Then the loudest explosion yet – the building around them rattled and shook and Oona fell against one of the shelves and was drenched in ice-water.

  ‘You all right?’ asked Billy, taking her by the arm.

  ‘I’ll live,’ said Oona. ‘Not the first time I’ve been soaked this night.’

  ‘Hopefully it’ll be the last,’ muttered Merrigutt.

  ‘You may as well have this, too,’ said Billy, and he kneeled and added something final to Oona’s satchel, something wrapped. ‘There now. You’re all set.’ He tightened the buckles and at the final tug came yet another explosion. Their building began to move, drifting.

  ‘What’s going on, O’Riley?’ asked Merrigutt. ‘We’re loose from the moorings!’

  ‘Quiet and calm yourself, old bird,’ said Billy, and he set a ladder to the ceiling and in a moment was up and out through a hatch onto the roof. Oona had to follow, even with Merrigutt saying, ‘I think it’d be wiser to stay put. Don’t forget now what you’re carrying, and I’m not referring to the trout – you’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Oona, and she was out onto the roof. Oona turned and witnessed the last throes of Innislone: blaze mounting, reaching for whatever sparse stars, the noise and heat making her cringe. But around them were survivors, a fleet of other buildings pulling away. On other roofs many faces were watching, silent, their expressions flickering between lit and shadowed, pale and dark, distraught …

  ‘Keep it going, men,’ called Billy, but quietly as he could. He was crouched at the edge of the roof, the largest blade from his belt in his hand. Oona walked to the edge and kneeled beside. They weren’t drifting at all – men in many currachs were rowing, dragging with tow-rope the buildings-now-boats, their oars entering the lough gently. Everything and everyone, Oona realised, was contriving towards quiet, as stealthy a leaving as they could manage. They were successful, so far – no gunfire, no Invaders. Not yet.