The Gift of Dark Hollow

by Kieran Larwood

  His sister didn’t seem affected. She was tenderly dabbing some kind of ointment on her patient’s wounds. Beside her was a wooden bowl of broth she had been spoon-feeding him with.

  ‘Hello, Pod,’ she said when she saw him. Despite having been awake enough to drink soup, the sick rabbit didn’t twitch an eyelid.

  ‘Hello,’ Podkin said. ‘How’s Mother?’

  Paz looked over to where their mother lay, tucked in a blanket. She looked a bit better off than the lop Paz was tending to, but still in a very bad way. ‘She’s still sleeping,’ his sister said. ‘She’s put on a bit of flesh with all the broth, but I don’t think she’s going to wake soon.’

  Podkin glanced over to where Brigid was mixing up medicines at one of the tables by the fireside. He moved closer to Paz, as close to the poorly rabbit as he dared, and whispered even more quietly.

  ‘Listen. I know you’re busy but …’ He took a deep breath. ‘I really need your help with something.’

  ‘Help? You need my help?’ Paz was as surprised as him, and in that instant Podkin knew she would refuse anyway. Partly to spite him, but also because she thought her healing work was much more important.

  ‘I’d love to, Podkin, but—’

  ‘Yes, you should help him, dear,’ Brigid interrupted. She had somehow moved from the table to the lop’s bedside both silently and instantly. ‘You’ll need to take a lantern with you. And Pook as well.’

  Podkin was about to ask the old rabbit how she knew what they needed, but then bit his lip. Brigid was a witch-rabbit, and she knew things about the future. She had been expecting them to turn up in the woods, months and months before they actually stumbled into her. It was best to just nod and go along with what she said.

  ‘I can’t—’ Paz began.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Brigid. ‘I’ll be fine here. This is important. Off you go.’

  ‘I don’t see why we need to take Pook, though,’ muttered Paz as she scooped him up from their mother’s bed. He snuggled into her, blinking his big eyes at Brigid.

  ‘Because he has the luck of the Goddess,’ said Brigid.

  Podkin allowed himself a secret smile and trotted back off to the lower warren, picking up an extra lantern on the way.

  *

  The three rabbits stood at the edge of the hole, peering in. With the light from both lanterns, Podkin could see that there were definitely some stairs leading down. Roughly formed, uneven ones, that looked like they’d been hacked out of the earth in a hurry.

  ‘Maybe there’s a whole other warren under this one,’ Podkin said. ‘Like this level is under the one we’ve been living in.’

  ‘Could be,’ said Paz. ‘Dark Hollow is one of the oldest warrens around. Or it could just be an old wine cellar or something.’

  ‘Would Brigid say a wine cellar was important? Come on, let’s go down.’ Podkin was still a bit worried about being buried alive, but Brigid’s enthusiasm had infected him, and Starclaw was humming quietly at his hip. There had to be something important down there. He lowered himself over the edge of the hole and on to the wonky staircase.

  ‘I really think we should go back for some rope or something,’ Paz said, passing Pook to Podkin and climbing down after him.

  ‘Stop worrying,’ said Podkin. ‘Look at this!’

  He was at the bottom of the narrow stairs now, and his lantern lit up the top end of a wide, round room. Soil had fallen into most of it, leaving only a small section to stand in – a bite-sized chunk out of a wall of mud and matted roots. You could see it must have been quite a place, though: at least as big as the longburrow above.

  ‘Ooh!’ said Pook, staring around with wide eyes.

  ‘The floor!’ said Paz.

  Looking down, Podkin could see great clods of mud where the roof above had collapsed. In between were hundreds of tiny clay tiles, laid in careful patterns of weaving whorls and pine cone emblems. Mosaics, he remembered from some distant history lesson back in Munbury. They were beautiful and delicate – almost too special to walk on.

  Podkin shone his lantern at the walls beside him. The packed earth had been whitewashed, and then painted with simple figures. They had faded almost to nothing, but he could make out several rabbit shapes, all with horns on their heads. Hern, the hunters’ god again, or was that how the ancient Dark Hollowers dressed?

  ‘This place is really old,’ he said.

  Paz nodded. ‘There’s a door over there.’

  They walked over to it, feet crunching on the clods of soil dotted about the floor. It was a wooden door, heavy oak by the look of it, set into a thick frame that was carved all over with weaving branches. From in between the thickets the horned rabbit Hern could be seen again. In the flickering lamplight, it looked as though he gave Podkin a wink. Surely just his imagination playing tricks on him. He touched a finger to the carving to make sure. Yes. The wood was more like lifeless stone, turned black and solid with time. A copper ring in the centre acted as a handle, but instead of a keyhole there was a cluster of raised stones, each marked with a crude symbol.

  Podkin tried the door. It was like trying to push a boulder. ‘It’s locked,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t say,’ said Paz, making him growl. ‘Look at those stones, though. Have you seen the pictures before? They look very familiar.’

  Pook, still snuggled on Paz’s hip, had been busy staring at the horned rabbit carvings. But when he saw the marked stones, he began to wriggle like crazy, squeaking and trying to get at them with his chubby fingers.

  ‘Owns! Owns!’

  Paz struggled to hold him and moved back from the door. ‘You don’t own anything, Pook. Stop wriggling, will you!’

  ‘Not “owns” – he’s saying bones!’ Podkin remembered how Pook loved casting Brigid’s set of carved scrying bones, and also how he’d shown almost miraculous luck at playing a dice game when they had been captured by a pair of villainous rabbits in Boneroot.

  ‘Those symbols are the same as the ones on Brigid’s bones, aren’t they, Pook? Move him closer to the door, Paz. Let him press them.’

  ‘What, you think that pressing letters is somehow going to open this door?’ Paz gave Podkin a scornful look as she shoved Pook up to the door handle. His fingers started tracing the symbols and pushing them here and there, making a series of clicking sounds.

  ‘Just watch,’ said Podkin. He folded his arms and gave Paz his best smug smile.

  ‘There’s ten stones there, Podkin. There must be millions of different combinations. There’s absolutely no way—’

  She was interrupted by a loud clank, and the door began to swing inwards with a deep grinding sound.

  ‘In we go!’ Podkin skipped in front of Paz, immensely enjoying the amazed look on her face.

  *

  The room inside had partially collapsed, just like the longburrow chamber they had come from. Another bank of earth blocked off all but a small section. Just enough to see that it had once been equally as grand. More mosaic floors, painted figures and hollows in the wall where sculptures or lanterns had once stood.

  ‘What was this place?’ Podkin asked.

  ‘Well, if the other room was the longburrow, then this would be the right place for the chieftain’s chamber,’ said Paz.

  A chieftain’s room, Podkin thought. That explained why it felt so grand. But what did Starclaw want down here? There was nothing left except a mound of splintered wood, half buried by the fallen earth.

  Paz moved closer to it, bringing her lantern down to see better.

  ‘Looks like this was the chieftain’s bed, or something,’ she said. ‘There’s a name carved on it. Can you see?’

  Podkin shone his lantern on the broken bed too. There was something, carved in Ogham, on what might have been the footboard. He couldn’t read the patterns of lines that made up the writing, but Paz could.

  ‘What does it say?’ he asked.

  ‘A name, I think? Shard, maybe? The wood is all crumbly … Shade?’

&n
bsp; ‘Was there a chief called Shade here?’ The name sounded familiar to Podkin. As if to confirm it, Starclaw zapped his leg with an excited bolt of energy.

  ‘Of course!’ Paz slapped a paw to her head. ‘Shade the Cursed! There was a scroll about him in the library when Brigid and I were looking for potion recipes She told me it was important that I read it.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ said Podkin, ‘I think it would be a lot easier if she just told us all the things we needed to know in one go, instead of all this mystical hinting nonsense. What did the scroll say?’

  ‘I can’t quite remember,’ said Paz. ‘I only glanced at it really. I should have known it was one of Brigid’s clues. I think he brought a curse on Dark Hollow warren. I’m not sure how, only that he doomed them all to bad luck. Probably why they were so keen to be off once Crom refused to be chieftain. Who wants to live in a jinxed warren?’

  ‘Us, apparently.’ Podkin drew Starclaw from its sheath and held it up by the broken bed. He could actually see the dagger jiggling from side to side in his paws.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Paz asked.

  ‘Starclaw is going crazy,’ Podkin explained. ‘There’s something down here it wants me to find.’

  ‘Treasure, do you think?’ Podkin had told Paz before how the dagger sometimes moved or buzzed, almost as if it were alive. ‘Could it be another one of the Twelve Gifts? Crom always said he didn’t know what had happened to Dark Hollow’s one.’

  ‘Could be.’ Podkin’s excitement was matching Starclaw’s now. Just imagine if they were the ones to find the missing Gift! He began to move the dagger around the room, noting where the buzzing became stronger. ‘Not over here, or here. It seems to be attracted to something near the bed.’

  ‘Bed! Bed!’ Pook called, as if he already knew where it was. Podkin brought the dagger tip down towards the mosaic floor at the end of the ruined footboard. The thing practically jumped out of his paws.

  ‘It’s down here, I think,’ he said. ‘But how are we going to dig it up? We didn’t bring a spade.’

  ‘Podkin. Your dagger can cut through anything, remember?’ Paz shook her head at him, and Pook copied her.

  ‘Oh yes,’ muttered Podkin, feeling foolish. He plunged Starclaw down into the floor, feeling bad for a moment about ruining the delicate mosaics, and used it to cut a rough circle, which he then levered up with the blade.

  He had exposed a small hole, dug into the ground and covered over with the clay that made up the flooring. Inside was a leather pouch, rotted away to nothing. When he reached down to grasp it, it crumbled, revealing a glint of metal.

  ‘What is it?’ Paz and Pook were squeaking with excitement behind him. Pod scooped the whole bundle out on to the floor, and brushed away the pouch fragments to reveal a small silver brooch and a clay tablet. Lines of Ogham writing had been pressed into the clay. He passed it on to Paz, and lifted the brooch to examine it more closely.

  It was beautifully made. Silver wires looped and knotted together in an intricate circular pattern. There was a long pin on the back, and some kind of white stone in the centre. It looked like a tiny version of the moon.

  ‘In moon’s clear sight, in shadows dressed: this Gift will make you dance your best,’ Paz read. ‘It must be the Gift of Dark Hollow! This has been lost for centuries, Podkin!’

  A lost sacred treasure, found again. A miracle, or the will of the Goddess maybe – but all Podkin could think about was how pleased Crom would be with him. At last.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Moonstrider

  All the way back to the longburrow, Podkin clutched the brooch in his paw, thinking of the delight on Crom’s face when he heard the news, picturing himself being invited to the head seat on the war council every day, the nods and smiles all the new rabbits would give him when they passed him in the warren.

  But no sooner had they stepped out of the tunnel, Podkin’s visions disappeared in a puff of imaginary smoke.

  There was chaos in the burrow, for what seemed like several reasons. Firstly, Mish and the scavengers were back, and placed on one of the tables was a large pile of dandelion leaves. The first fresh food of spring, and also the first green things anyone had seen for far too long.

  ‘Dandies!’ Pook shouted, and Paz whooped as well. It was something to celebrate, but Podkin could see that the rabbits gathered around the council table were far from happy.

  Crom and Brigid were there, Mish and Mash too, and any other rabbit that was fit enough to stand. There was lots of shouting and gesturing going on, and it didn’t sound like the good kind.

  As Podkin and Paz drew closer, they could hear why.

  Mish and her scavengers had travelled right to the forest’s edge, where they discovered the winter snow had thawed completely, and patches of dandelions had even started sprouting.

  They had also discovered, after harvesting as many leaves as they could carry, that the Gorm were about. A squad of three riders patrolled to the west, near to the crater that had once been Boneroot.

  They had been tiny spots in the distance, but the bulky iron forms of Gorm warriors were unmistakable, sitting on the backs of the armoured giant rat-beasts they rode into battle.

  Mish had ordered everyone back into the forest, covering their tracks as best they could. They had then dashed for the safety of Dark Hollow as fast as their legs would carry them.

  ‘Were you seen?’ Crom asked. ‘Are you sure you left no signs?’

  ‘No, not seen,’ said Mish. ‘And I don’t think so. I mean, we were in a hurry … frightened …’

  Podkin was frightened too. The months spent underground in Dark Hollow had begun to convince him he was safe, even though he knew he wasn’t really. His nightly nightmares made sure of that. An actual sighting of the Gorm, though … it brought the real fear of those evil iron monsters back. He could feel his paws begin to shake.

  ‘Extra scouts in the forest! Double the watch!’ Crom ordered. ‘Every walking rabbit! We keep lookout for the next two days. At the first sign of Gorm, we run.’

  ‘But the sick rabbits …’ Brigid began.

  Crom’s stern face became even more grave. ‘In the army we would have had stretchers and strong rabbits to move them, but …’

  ‘We’ll manage,’ said Rill, the shield maiden: a short but well-muscled, black-furred rabbit with quick brown eyes. ‘We can make stretchers from wood and blankets. There’s enough of us to carry the wounded if we need to.’

  ‘I’m not leaving anyone behind,’ said Brigid, eyes flashing.

  ‘It might not come to that,’ said Mish. ‘They might not spot our tracks. They might go in the other direction completely.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ said Crom. He didn’t sound convinced. ‘But we need to be ready. Pack food and supplies, just in case.’

  He sounds like the chieftain he should have been, Podkin thought, still clutching the brooch in his paw. Should he show him the treasure now? Was the time right?

  He looked to Paz for advice, but she just shrugged. She would be worrying about her patients, about their mother and aunt. Would they survive being loaded on to stretchers and dragged through the forest?

  But what if the treasure was a way to beat the Gorm? Surely Crom would need to know that?

  Podkin took a deep breath and walked up to the blind rabbit, setting a paw on his arm. ‘Crom? I have something to tell you.’

  ‘Not now, Podkin.’ Not now … later … in a moment. Not what he wanted to hear, but this was important. Pod pressed on.

  ‘But I’ve found something, Crom. A hidden part of the warren! We think it’s the chamber of an old chieftain called Shade—’

  ‘Don’t mention that name!’ Crom’s voice was suddenly full of fury, his blank eyes wide and teeth bared. Podkin leapt away with a squeak. He watched, fur bristling, as Crom made a warding sign – paws up to either side of his head like horns – and then the old warrior visibly pulled himself together, taking deep breaths before kneeling at Podkin’s level and re
aching out a hand for his shoulder.

  ‘I’m sorry I frightened you, Podkin,’ he said. ‘But in Dark Hollow we don’t say the name of … of that chieftain. He brought a terrible curse down on our tribe, and things have been bleak for us ever since. I knew the old warren was down there, somewhere. My ancestors buried it, long ago.’

  ‘But what did he do that was so bad?’ Podkin’s voice shook a little when he spoke. He had been so sure Crom would welcome the news, not react like that.

  ‘We don’t like to say …’

  ‘He lost Moonfyre, the sacred Gift of Dark Hollow,’ Brigid interrupted, giving Podkin a wink she knew Crom would not be able to see. ‘Or so everyone thought.’

  ‘Thank you, Brigid.’ Crom frowned at her over his shoulder. ‘I didn’t realise you were so knowledgeable about the history of my tribe.’

  ‘Oh, I know lots of things, I do.’ Brigid smiled to herself, then walked off to tend to her patients.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Crom, standing. ‘That’s enough talk. We have lots of things to prepare. I’m sure you can find something to keep yourself busy, Podkin.’

  Podkin watched as the big rabbit walked away, already starting to bark orders to those heading out into the woods to keep watch. Paz gave him another shrug, and went off herself to help Brigid, struggling to keep Pook away from the dandelion leaves as they passed.

  Podkin was left standing in the centre of the longburrow, the brooch still clutched in his hand. Keep myself busy? he thought. I’ll make sure I do.