‘S-soop?’ whispered Pook, poking a shivering nose out of Paz’s tunic.
‘We’re from Munbury warren,’ said Paz. ‘We’re Chief Lopkin’s children.’
The guard’s eyes widened at this, and he slammed the door on them. For an awful moment, Podkin and Paz thought they were being shut out, but then they heard the guard shouting for help through the doors.
‘Are they g-g-going to let us in?’ Podkin asked, through chattering teeth.
‘I think so,’ said Paz. ‘But something’s up. We’d better hide the dagger.’
Podkin just looked at it dumbly, as if he was wondering how the thing had appeared in his hand. Quickly, Paz snatched it off him, wrapped it around with the cloth and shoved it inside her tunic, next to Pook, who gave a weak little squeak of protest. She had just hidden it away when the door creaked open again, this time revealing a familiar face: Lady Russet, the Redwater chieftain’s wife.
Even though Podkin’s brain was practically an ice cube, he could see the terrible difference in the Lady. Before, she had been a plump, bristling bundle of life, with zinging fur, a bubbling giggle and eyes that sparked like glimmers of summer sunlight.
Now, her skin hung off her face in folds. Lines of worry creased her brow; her eyes were hollow, haunted and red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying. Crying for a long, long time. When she spoke, her voice was light and happy, but it sounded forced, as if she was trying to hide some great sadness.
‘Why, if it isn’t little Paz and Podkin! How you’ve grown since the summer. And is that tiny Pook nestled there? You poor things – you look frozen half to death! Is it true what my guard says about the Gorm? In Munbury warren? Come in, come in at once! You’ll be safe here, I promise.’
Podkin knew this wasn’t right: that he should probably turn and run back into the icy woods, but he could hear the crackle of a fire somewhere down inside the warren; and he could smell roasting parsnips and freshly baked bread. At that moment, getting warm and eating were more important to him than anything else, even his safety. That might sound silly to you, sitting by a toasty hearthside with a belly full of turnip soup, but try spending the night running for your life through a Midwinter forest. You’d chew the legs off a rabid badger for a snack and somewhere cosy to sleep.
In fact, warmth and food were more important than anything else right then. Although the little rabbits didn’t know it, they were actually very close to freezing to death. If Podkin had lain down in that snowdrift like he’d wanted to, the sleep he drifted off in would have been his last. He would have woken up in the Land Beyond, and there is no coming back from that place.
So that was how they came to enter Redwater warren, even though it was a mistake Podkin would regret for the rest of his life …
They were led through to the longburrow and sat down on benches next to the fire. Lady Redwater went off ‘to see that rooms were made ready for them’, and some silent, shuffling serving rabbits brought out hot buttered parsnips and a few small loaves of bread.
As soon as the blood started moving round his body again, Podkin’s hands began to shake so badly he could hardly hold his plate. He managed a bite of parsnip eventually, and it burnt and tingled as it slipped down his throat. It was the best feeling he had ever had.
After a little while, the shaking stopped, and he found himself gulping down mouthfuls and tearing through the bread like a starved rabbit. Paz was doing the same, and little Pook even began to move around a bit. His nose wrinkled and his big eyes peered out from Paz’s tunic. ‘Neeps! Neeps!’ he called, opening his mouth like a baby bird, as Paz spooned hot parsnips inside.
As his body thawed out, so did Podkin’s wits. He noticed the longburrow was dark and damp. Thick cobwebs filled the corners, and the fire before them was a tiny one, nestled amongst huge banks of ash. The fireplace hadn’t been swept for months.
He looked around at the tables and benches, remembering the feast days of Midsummer, when the hall had been packed to the rafters with cheery rabbits. There was hardly any furniture left now. And those chairs – had they been patched up? Was the back of that bench splintered?
The food wasn’t quite right, either. The parsnips were stringy, the bread gritty and burnt on the outside. The last feast day they had eaten a huge glorious meal here. There had been a giant carrot, hollowed out so that when it was cut, a cascade of roasted turnips and swedes tumbled over the table. Now that was proper Redwater food. Not this hastily cobbled-together meal in front of them.
Once he’d started noticing one or two little things, his eyes picked out more. Were those gouge-marks on the earth wall there? What were those dried red stains, spattered on the floor?
And also, come to think of it: where were the children? The chieftain’s children they had played hide-and-seek and blind bunny’s bluff with every year since he could walk? They were as noisy, loud and bubbly as any Redwater rabbit ever was. If they weren’t in the longburrow itself, they should at least be able to hear them shouting and chasing each other somewhere in the warren. This was Bramblemas morning, after all. There should have been a cluster of little rabbits in the longburrow, all showing off what the Midwinter Rabbit had brought them in the night. At least, that was always what happened in Munbury warren.
I had been hoping for a set of wooden soldiers, Podkin thought. He wondered if they had been delivered anyway and were sitting next to his empty bed, or whether the Midwinter Rabbit knew about the Gorm and had kept away. It didn’t seem important any more, even though it had been all he’d thought about for weeks. How quickly your life can turn upside down.
‘Paz,’ he whispered. ‘Where d’you think Rufus and Rusty are? Wouldn’t they have come out to see us if they knew we were here?’
Paz nodded. Her eyes had been zipping everywhere, noticing the same things as Podkin. Mostly, she had been staring at a metal sculpture that she hadn’t seen before. A tall iron pedestal that jutted up from the longburrow floor. It wasn’t a model of anything in particular, just a mass of twists and coils, all jagged, uneven and unfinished. Why do they have an iron statue in their warren? she wondered. Everyone knew that kind of metal was hated by the Goddess. And what was it about the thing that set her fur on edge? It reminded her of something, but her poor, frozen, terrified mind couldn’t quite place it.
And then it came to her.
The Gorm.
She wanted to tell Podkin but didn’t speak because two serving rabbits had just entered the room. They were carrying some kind of large box between them, covered over with a thick blanket. They kept to the shadows as they edged their way around the longburrow. They had their heads down, but Paz could see them darting nervous, scared glances at them as they passed. Out through the hallway to the main doors they went. When they were gone, she hissed at Pod. ‘What was that they were carrying?’
Pod was about to shrug when he heard a muffled cawing sound coming from the hallway. Some kind of animal? A bird? That sound – they had heard it before, just a few short hours ago. Podkin and Paz looked at each other, both thinking the same thought at the same time.
It’s not a box, but a cage. And inside must be one of the Gorm’s spy birds. A warped, tortured crow with dead eyes and rusted metal feathers. The bird, the statue, the dead, empty warren. Suddenly it all made terrible sense.
‘They’re working for the Gorm!’ Podkin hissed. ‘They’re letting them know we’re here!’
The Gorm must have taken Redwater, just like they had Munbury. Chief Russet must have been killed, his guards murdered, and the rest of the warren turned into slaves. And as for the children … Podkin didn’t like to think. Without its heart and soul, the warren was slowly dying. They had chosen the worst possible place to run to.
‘We have to get out!’ Paz started to say, but Podkin was already up and running. She grabbed Pook and went to follow when, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the iron pillar. Something inside it had squirmed, juddered, like a fat eel stuck in a shallow puddle of mu
d. Could that even be possible? And then it made a sound: a grinding, screeching wail that grew louder and louder.
She didn’t stop to hear any more. Clutching Pook, she dashed after her brother as fast as her quick rabbit legs would carry her. They sprinted out of the longburrow, in the opposite direction of the main entrance, just as a shout went up from the gallery above. Someone had been up there watching them, and from the voice it sounded a lot like Lady Russet herself.
‘Stop them! Don’t let them escape!’
Into the tunnels of the warren they ran, the screams echoing behind them. Heading away from the main doors may have seemed a daft thing to do, but Podkin knew there would be guards there. He also knew warrens had many little back entrances and boltholes. He could hear his father’s voice reciting one of his favourite phrases: ‘a warren with only one entrance is basically a trap.’ A trap – like the one they had just walked into.
They dashed through dark winding corridors, changing direction every time they heard footsteps nearby. The Redwater rabbits were closing in on them, hounding them through the tunnels like ferrets used to chase their small fluffy ancestors.
Shouting voices echoed behind them, and little Pook began to wail as he was bounced around inside Paz’s tunic. ‘Neeps! Neeps!’ He could sense his sister’s fear but was also very concerned that his meal had been interrupted.
‘There!’ Paz shouted. ‘Up ahead!’
The tunnel had become lighter, and as they rounded a corner, they saw a small open gateway and the snowy forest beyond. They sprinted for it, as fast as terrified rabbits can, as Lady Russet’s voice called out behind them: ‘Seal the warren! Close all the gates!’
Slams and bangs began to echo through the passageways and, with numb horror, Podkin saw a metal portcullis begin to grind downwards over the doorway ahead. Their escape was being blocked. They were going to be trapped inside.
Sometimes, when your life is in real danger, when everything seems lost, there is a well of energy deep within you that can give you a final, desperate surge of power. It isn’t always much: but often it’s just enough to scrape through trouble by a whisker.
Podkin and Paz reached for theirs now, and doubled their speed down the tunnel, as the heavy grille clanked further and further down.
Paz reached it first, and dropped to her knees, sliding underneath the portcullis’s prongs and out into the snow. Podkin was a split second behind. He copied his sister, kicking his legs out and falling backwards to skid underneath. Looking up, he saw the roof of the tunnel pass by: the gateway, the falling portcullis, and then the grey sky of the open air above.
I did it! he thought. I’m free! But then there came a sharp searing pain in his ear. He tried to get up, but something was holding his head down. Something very painful. He heard Paz scream, and he twisted around to see what had happened.
The portcullis was down, and they were on the outside: or at least most of them was. One of his long silky brown ears was still inside, and speared through it – holding him in place – was a prong of the portcullis.
He had been pinned to the ground.
He was trapped.
CHAPTER SIX
One-Ear
Paz heard the clang of the portcullis behind her and turned to see Podkin lying safely outside the warren. She felt a surge of relief, which quickly disappeared when she saw the look of agony on his face.
Why isn’t he getting up? she thought. Has he sprained an ankle? Hurt his back? And then she saw the portcullis prong, spearing his ear to the ground. That was when she screamed.
She dashed to his side and took his hand. ‘Oh, Pod! Your ear!’
Her brother’s eyes were bulging and his teeth were gnashing in pain. She realised he must be trying his hardest not to scream, so that the Redwater rabbits wouldn’t discover where they’d gone. The poor thing could hardly move his head. There was no way they could escape into the woods now.
A voice came from back in the tunnel, somewhere in the dark. ‘If only you hadn’t run. Then none of this would have happened.’
As Paz watched, she saw a figure step towards the portcullis, closer to the light. It was Lady Russet. The gaunt, haunted Lady Russet, with cold dead eyes.
‘Let us go, milady,’ Paz looked up at her and pleaded. ‘You were always our friend. Don’t let the Gorm take us!’
‘The living statue they left here has sensed you. We have already sent the crow,’ said Lady Russet. ‘By now it has reached its masters and is calling them to us. It is too late.’
‘How can you do this? Why would you help them? They’re evil, Lady Russet. They killed our father!’
For a moment, there was something like pity in the Lady’s eyes. Paz thought she even saw a tear form there, before it trickled away into her fur. ‘They killed my husband too,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘And all our guards and warriors. But they have my children … Rufus and Rusty. If I give you to them, I might get them back.’
Paz’s fury at this cowardly, spineless thing the chieftain’s wife had become suddenly overflowed. She jumped up and grabbed the bars of the portcullis, shouting down the tunnel at her. ‘What would my father say if he saw you now? What would your husband say? Call yourself a rabbit? You’re no better than a weasel, you … you … traitor!’
Lady Russet jumped backwards, eyes wide, vanishing into the shadows. It was a good few moments before she spoke again, and when she did her voice was shaky and broken, as if she were holding back from sobbing.
‘It won’t be long until they are here. Your brother is stuck, and I won’t free him, but if you are gone when they arrive, I will say he came here on his own. You and the little one can escape. That’s the best I can do.’
With that, she was gone, back into the warren, leaving the little rabbits cold and frightened in the snow.
*
‘You heard her, Paz,’ said Podkin eventually. ‘You have a chance to get away. Leave me here, and take Pook somewhere safe.’
Paz gritted her teeth and shook the portcullis bars. ‘I am not leaving you behind,’ she said. ‘There must be some way to get you free.’
‘Caw! Caw!’ Pook was wiggling around inside her tunic, shouting at the top of his voice.
‘What?’ Paz snapped at him. ‘The crow’s gone, Pook.’
‘Caw! Caw!’
‘It’s gone, Pook! No bird! Gone! Now stop shouting at me so I can think of what to do!’
The baby rabbit gave a frustrated yell, then started wriggling about like mad, pushing the cloth-wrapped dagger out of Paz’s robes where she had stowed it. It took a moment for her to realise what he was doing.
‘Of course! Not caw, but claw! Starclaw! You’re a genius, Pook.’ Paz gave him a quick nuzzle, then dragged Starclaw out, ripping off the cloth covering as fast as she could.
Clang! She swung it hard against the portcullis. She tried again and again, but nothing happened. Clang! Clang!
‘Aaargh …’ Podkin moaned. The vibrations were like tiny explosions in his wounded ear. ‘Stop doing that!’
‘Oh, whiskers! The gate’s iron. The stupid dagger won’t cut through it. How did they even get an iron gate? Unless the Gorm gave it to them …’ Paz cursed again and shoved the dagger into the snow. What was the point of having a magic weapon if you couldn’t use it half the time?
Podkin whimpered, his hands reaching up to his pinned ear. There must be some way to free him. Could she cut away the stone of the gateway floor? Or the lintel above, perhaps? She wondered how much time they had.
Her question was answered by a horn blast, somewhere on the other side of the warren. They had hardly any time at all.
‘Go,’ Podkin said again. ‘Just go.’
No. Paz shook her head. There had to be some other way around it. Her quick little mind whirred, ticking through all the possibilities. In the end there was only one option.
‘Pod.’ She gripped him by the hand and squeezed. ‘The dagger can’t cut through iron, but it can c
ut through … your ear.’
Paz gulped. Podkin gulped.
The portcullis had speared his ear over halfway down. He would have to lose nearly the whole thing.
‘Please don’t,’ he said. ‘Just leave me for the Gorm. They probably won’t kill me. Will they?’
‘You’re officially the chieftain of Munbury warren now,’ said Paz. ‘They’ll do to you what they did to Father. Scramashank will wear your skull on his belt.’
‘But my ear.’
‘I have to do it now, Pod. There isn’t much time.’
Podkin and Paz looked at each other. Finally Podkin nodded.
Paz pulled the dagger out of the snow. Inside her tunic, Pook squeaked and hid his eyes.
‘Hang on,’ said Paz. She remembered a lesson on wood lore about how spider webs could help stop a wound bleeding. She stood on tiptoe and pulled a good handful of matted cobwebs from around the door, ignoring the fat spiders that scuttled over her fingers, angry at having their winter sleep broken. Then she lowered the dagger tip to rest against Pod’s ear.
‘Will it hurt?’ he said.
‘It might.’ Paz remembered the way the dagger had chopped through the tree trunk like it was butter. ‘But it’ll be quick.’
‘Then do it,’ said Podkin, closing his eyes.
It was funny how he didn’t feel anything at first. Not the slice, not the cobwebs being pressed over the wound, nor the handfuls of snow after that. It was funny to be running off into the woods, leaving a part of his body behind. But the funniest thing of all was that, even after his ear had been sliced off, he could still feel the burning pain of the portcullis piercing it. A burning pain in an ear that was no longer there.
INTERLUDE
‘Hey! That wasn’t how he lost his ear!’
‘It was clawed off by a wildcat!’
‘No! A vampire rabbit ate it in one bite!’
‘It was pulled off by a giant lop!’
‘I heard he chopped it off himself, and made it into a boat to escape an island full of monsters!’
Podkin One-Ear Page 4
