The Gift of Dark Hollow

by Kieran Larwood

  *

  He was having a dream about an earthquake shaking down the walls of his burrow and rocking him from side to side, when he woke up. Paz was nudging him, much more forcefully than she needed to.

  ‘Whassa matter?’ he managed to say. Mash was still fast asleep next to them, and from the other shelter, he could hear the sound of Crom’s deep, rumbling snores. There was daylight outside, but it was fading. They had slept right through to evening time.

  ‘Look at this!’ Paz said, pointing to the roof of their lean-to shelter.

  ‘What? Branches? Twigs?’ Podkin couldn’t see anything, certainly nothing worth being woken up from a nice sleep for.

  ‘There!’ Paz pointed again. ‘Watch!’

  Some of the branches they had cut were dusted green with the first buds of new growth. It was one of these Paz wanted him to see. A little cluster of crumpled leaves, almost ready to peep out into the world for the first time.

  As Podkin watched, the bud trembled and the furled leaves twitched. They began to stretch and unfold, cracking out of their casing with tiny popping sounds. Podkin’s mouth fell open as he saw the bright, fresh green of new oak leaves appear, spreading outwards in seconds, as if all the weeks of spring had been squashed into a few heartbeats.

  More buds began to pop open all up and down the branch, and soon the whole thing was in full leaf. There were even shiny new acorns hanging down and brushing the ears of the sleeping Mash.

  ‘What?’ Podkin said. ‘How?’

  Paz held up Brigid’s sickle. ‘It’s this,’ she said. ‘I was lying here, looking up at the branches, when I felt it tingling on my belt. When I grabbed hold of it, I could feel the power, Podkin. I could feel the leaves on the branches, wanting to grow.’

  ‘Toasted turnips …’ Podkin whispered.

  ‘All I had to do was concentrate on the buds,’ Paz continued, ‘and they just popped out. That ivy down there too.’ She pointed to where Mash’s leg was sticking out of his blanket. His whole paw was wrapped all around with shiny green ivy leaves.

  ‘Brigid never said that was the sickle’s power, did she?’ Podkin scratched the stump of his ear, trying to remember. ‘I thought it only shone to tell her which plants were safe.’

  ‘So did I,’ said Paz. ‘Maybe this is something new. Do you remember her telling us about the Balance? How the power of nature and the Gorm had to be equal? Maybe, because the Gorm are getting more powerful, the Goddess’s Gifts are too.’

  Podkin thought back to the battle at the Gorm camp. Right at the end, when Brigid had unleashed her powers to cover the place in a magical mist, he thought he’d seen tendrils of plants reach up from the ground and pull down the metal pillar that was part of the evil Gorm god, Gormalech. Could Brigid have done that as well, using the power of Ailfew? And then there was Starclaw – it had started ‘speaking’ to him much more lately. Zings and buzzes that tied in to what he was feeling or thinking. Maybe Paz was right: the Balance could be changing.

  His sleepy brain was just beginning to puzzle it out when there came a shout of alarm from the other shelter.

  Tansy! thought Podkin, and he and Paz dashed out into the forest to see what was wrong. Mash was a second behind them, but his foot was still wrapped in ivy, and he crashed to the floor in a cloud of leaves.

  ‘What is it? What’s happened?’ Podkin reached the shelter first, and peered inside, drawing Starclaw as he moved. He half expected to see a Gorm crow, pecking at his friends with its evil metal beak – but instead there was Tansy, gaping at one of the backpacks they had brought with them.

  It was open on the ground, and peering out of the top was a chubby little face with crumpled ears and wide green eyes.

  ‘Puh-prise!’ shouted Pook, beaming up at them all.

  *

  ‘Absolutely no way,’ said Crom. ‘We turn around and take him back, right now.’

  ‘But then we’ve wasted a whole day,’ said Tansy. ‘Every second we lose could mean Comfrey is closer to death, or worse. Without her help, we’ll never know how to find the hammer.’

  ‘We can’t take him with us.’ Crom folded his arms in his best stubborn pose. ‘Podkin and Paz have to be here, Brigid’s always right about things like that. And they’ve more than proved themselves in the past.’ (Podkin couldn’t help puffing his chest out a little at that). ‘But I won’t risk Pook. Not where we’re going. It’s too dangerous for him.’

  ‘We could send Podkin or Paz back with him,’ Mash suggested. ‘And the rest of us could carry on.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear Crom? Podkin and I need to be there,’ said Paz, ‘or the quest for the hammer will fail. Brigid said so.’

  ‘We could leave him here,’ said Tansy. ‘Give him some food and tie him to a tree so he doesn’t run off.’

  ‘He’s a baby, not a pet!’ Podkin and Paz shouted the same thing together. Tansy shot them a nasty look and started packing up her gear.

  ‘Well, we’d better decide one way or the other,’ she said, over her shoulder. ‘It’s dusk now, and we need to move out of the forest.’

  Pook had been watching them all closely and, realising they were thinking of sending him back to the warren, decided to give them some persuasion. He closed his eyes, threw his head back and screamed.

  ‘Pook! Quiet!’ Podkin hissed, thinking of all the Gorm scouts or crows that could be around.

  ‘Make him hush!’ Crom begged Paz, who knelt by Pook’s side and tried to calm him down.

  But there was no stopping the little rabbit. He paused to fill his lungs and then screamed again. Birds flew from the trees, squirrels scampered for cover. Every living thing for miles around would soon know where they were.

  ‘All right, all right!’ Crom bent down to talk to the wailing Pook. ‘You can come along! I’ll carry you myself! Just be quiet, for Goddess’s sake!’

  There was instant silence. Pook grinned up at Crom, as if nothing had ever been wrong, and reached out his arms to be picked up. Crom swung him on to his shoulders, muttering something about wailing kittens being the death of him, while the others all stared on in surprise.

  Tansy was shaking her head, looking far from happy. ‘This is supposed to be a secret mission, not a child’s tea party.’ Podkin gave her his best glare, but had to admit he wasn’t happy either. He’d been sad to leave Pook, but at least he’d known his baby brother was safe. Now all three of them were in danger – again.

  Feeling even more uneasy than before, the little group headed off into the twilight, and out of the shelter of Grimheart forest.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Assassin

  Once they had left the forest, Podkin soon realised how vulnerable they were. There was open space all around. Wide, grassy meadows, broken here and there by the odd copse of trees or cluster of gorse bushes. If the wrong eyes were watching, they would be very visible as they hurried across the landscape. A cluster of hooded rabbits, headed straight into danger.

  They continued their path north, zigging and zagging to make the most of any cover they could find. Podkin came to hate the open pasture, counting the steps between each bit of hedge or bush that would help hide them. He realised this must be how his ancestors once felt: always waiting for the snap of a fox’s jaws or the sound of falcon wings swooping down on them from above.

  They had decided to skirt around any warrens on the way to Applecross, just in case the Gorm were there. The nearest one to the forest was called Frog Wallop, and by the end of the night they were getting close to it. Mash pointed to a small wood, nestling between two little hills.

  ‘If we can reach that,’ he said, ‘we could camp there for the day. We can make shelters like before, and there might be some good food around.’

  It sounded like an excellent plan to Podkin, and they all doubled their pace, trying to reach the trees before the sun came up. When they were a hundred metres or so away, they used up the last of their energy in a mad dash, desperate to be under cover.

  Camp was
made very quickly, right in the middle of the little wood, in the hollow trunk of a wide ancient yew tree. It was a bit cramped, all squashed inside with a blanket hiding them from sight, but everyone was just happy to be hidden once more.

  They felt even better when Mash appeared after a scouting trip. He had a bundle of mushrooms, some wild asparagus and more daffodil leaves.

  ‘Could we make a fire to cook some soup?’ Podkin asked, his stomach making him forget his fear of the Gorm for a moment.

  ‘Soop!’ said Pook, licking his lips.

  ‘Best not,’ said Crom. ‘We were lucky to go all night without seeing any sign of the enemy. It would be stupid to tempt fate.’

  Rats’ whiskers, Podkin scolded himself. Think before you speak next time. Of course you can’t cook soup when you’re hiding from a bunch of iron-clad monsters. He nibbled on some raw mushrooms, and tried to ignore his rumbling tummy.

  Before long the simple meal was gone, and the group of rabbits huddled together, their furry bodies stuffing the empty tree trunk to the brim. Mash went off to keep first watch and Podkin made himself comfortable. He had his head on Paz’s back and Pook’s ears were in his face, but he didn’t mind. It was actually very cosy.

  ‘See you all in the morning … I mean, the evening,’ he said, but was asleep before anyone could answer.

  *

  ‘The first one to move a whisker is a dead rabbit.’

  It was a voice he’d never heard before. Low – growling – female, possibly? – and it made Podkin snap awake instantly. Not the half-asleep, bleary-headed wakening of the evening before, either. His eyes were popping, his ear pricked and every bristle of fur on his neck was bolt upright.

  The first thing he saw was a strange figure standing over them where they lay. It had long grey robes, a bladed weapon in its hand, and a skull for a face – gleaming white bone, carved all over with whorls and spirals.

  Everyone in the tree trunk was awake too. Crom was frozen in the act of reaching for his spear, Tansy had her teeth gritted in anger, and Pook and Paz looked terrified.

  From the corner of his eye, Podkin could see the clearing outside their tree. Mash was lying there, not dead – thank the Goddess – but tied hand and foot. There were shadowy shapes amongst the woods: more strangers holding weapons. Not the bulky, spiked figures of Gorm, though. Something else? Something worse?

  ‘Who are you?’ Podkin heard himself squeak.

  Quicker than a blink, their captor reached down to grab his ear, yanking it hard. The bone-faced monster held its blade to Podkin’s throat, pushing the jagged edge through his fur and into his skin.

  ‘I’ll ask the questions, earless one,’ it hissed. The words had an accent he hadn’t heard before, but the voice was definitely female. Podkin looked up, seeing that the skull face was just a mask. Through the eyeholes he could see black fur and a pair of cold, slate-grey eyes. At least it’s a rabbit, and not some kind of demon, was all Podkin could think.

  ‘Leave the child alone,’ said Crom, his voice a growl. ‘Threaten me, if you dare.’

  ‘Be careful what you ask for, greyfur. Do you know what I am?’

  ‘I think so,’ Crom replied. ‘Are you wearing a bone mask?’

  The rabbit took her knife away from Podkin’s throat for a moment and tapped the blade against her mask. Tchk, tchk, tchk. Crom nodded his head. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, less angry.

  ‘Everyone do what this rabbit says. Don’t try anything stupid.’

  ‘Very wise,’ said the rabbit. She let go of Podkin’s ear and he tumbled on to Paz’s lap. Despite Crom’s warning, he was tempted to draw Starclaw and give the masked rabbit a scare. Chop her sword in half, or slice off her stupid mask. She didn’t look that dangerous – apart from the scary bone face, of course – she was only a fraction taller than Tansy and as skinny as a starved weasel. Why was Crom so frightened?

  ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Who are you, and why are you here? Don’t you know this land is run by the Gorm now?’

  Podkin was about to say something about them being on a dangerous mission, when Tansy spoke up. ‘We’re from Applecross warren,’ she said. ‘We’re fleeing the Gorm. Trying to find somewhere safe.’

  The masked rabbit pointed her sword at Tansy. ‘You, maybe, are from Applecross. These others: no. A dwarf from the mountains, a grey rabbit from the forest and three baby field rabbits. Besides, you are going towards Applecross, not away. We watched you last night.’

  So much for travelling unnoticed, Podkin thought. If they saw us, who else did? Could there be Gorm riders on their way to them right now?

  ‘We mean you no harm,’ said Crom. ‘We have a task to do at Applecross. We can’t tell you what, but trust us when we say if you are enemies of the Gorm, then we are on the same side.’

  There was a long moment of silence. Podkin could see the masked rabbit’s eyes looking at each of them in turn, sizing them up and wondering whether to release them or kill them where they lay.

  Finally she jumped down from the tree to the clearing floor, landing as silently as a wildcat, just behind Mash. Her sword swished through the air and around her head in a maze of spirals, and a scream began to form in Podkin’s throat. She was going to chop Mash to pieces, before starting on the rest of them!

  Podkin heard Paz gasp as the sword came down, faster than a blink, slicing cleanly through the rope binding Mash’s paws. The little rabbit quickly jumped to his feet, rubbing his wrists and looking very annoyed.

  Did this mean they were safe? Paz had already started clambering out of the tree, so he guessed it did. Podkin followed. By the time they were standing in the clearing, the masked rabbit’s friends had stepped into the open.

  They made a strange bunch.

  There were two others besides the masked one: a sinewy, ginger-furred rabbit with nervous gold-flecked eyes, dressed in the most beautiful woven cloak Podkin had ever seen; and a rabbit that could only be a bard. He had smoke-grey fur, shaven and dyed into swirling patterns. The insides of his ears were tattooed with more swirls and pierced with two huge wooden discs. Through his nose was a silver ring and he held a carved oak staff, strung with feathers, beads and bones. When he saw Podkin staring at him, he bowed low and smiled.

  ‘These are my fellows,’ said the masked rabbit. ‘Vetch of Golden Brook and Yarrow, bard of nowhere in particular. I am Zarza.’

  ‘A bonedancer,’ said Crom, and both Tansy and Mash drew a sharp breath. Podkin only frowned. What under the earth was a bonedancer? And why was she so scary?

  While Podkin was puzzling, Crom made their introductions. The two groups agreed to share a meal together before they moved on, although neither of them was prepared to say where they were going just yet. Food was dished out on to a blanket in silence, and they all sat around it, nervously eying each other.

  ‘Well,’ said Yarrow, the bard. ‘This is all terribly awkward, isn’t it? Perhaps I should break the ice with a song?’ Even though he was fairly young – no more than twenty summers, Podkin reckoned – there was an old-fashioned, theatrical showmanship in everything he did and said.

  ‘As long as it’s not too loud,’ said Zarza. She was feeding dandelion leaves through a slit in the front of her mask, silently nibbling them without pausing to take it off.

  ‘Very well.’ Yarrow stood and cleared his throat before beginning to sing. His voice was soft, yet clear and beautiful. It seemed to blend with the evening sounds of the woods: the rustling trees, the roosting birds, the wind sighing through the branches. Podkin recognised the words: it was a song about Lupen, the first rabbit, who ended up in the moon. The tune was different to the one he knew, but it fitted the song even better. When he had finished, the rabbits quietly applauded. Pook, who had been staring with an open mouth all the way through the song, quietly got up and toddled across the blanket to sit at Yarrow’s feet, staring up at him like he was some kind of magical vision.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Paz. ‘That was lovely.’


  ‘You’re very welcome,’ said Yarrow, patting Pook on the head. ‘It’s nice to have an appreciative audience, for a change.’

  ‘Now that the ice is broken, perhaps we should share some tales about ourselves?’ It was the ginger-furred rabbit, Vetch, who had spoken. He sat, wrapped in his glorious cloak, staring at them in turn. His golden eyes flicked from face to face, his mouth curled in a half smile.

  ‘I’ll start, shall I?’ Nobody answered him, or even glanced his way, although he didn’t seem to notice. Podkin began to feel a little sorry for him. ‘My name, as you know, is Vetch. I was the advisor to Chief Gildus of Golden Brook warren. I don’t know if you’ve ever been there, but it is quite famous. We have seams of pure gold running through the very walls of our longburrow. Sculptures and fountains everywhere. The place is a marvel.

  ‘Or it was a marvel, I should say, for the Gorm came and ruined it all. I daresay there’s nothing of beauty left in it now. I believe I was the only survivor, the only one to escape. I had been wandering for weeks before I met these two, and they have agreed to escort me to safety.’

  ‘We agreed nothing of the sort,’ said Zarza, halfway through a dandelion leaf.

  ‘I offered to pay you handsomely,’ said Vetch.

  ‘I don’t want your gold. I don’t want you slowing me down. You’re only with us because I hate the Gorm more than you.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Vetch. ‘Well. They don’t seem to be escorting me to safety. Rather, I am staying with them until I find somewhere safer. Which amounts to the same thing, don’t you think?’

  He stared at them again with those gleaming, nervous eyes. He seemed desperate for someone to like him. A bit too desperate, perhaps. Podkin gave him a little smile anyway, and was rewarded with a beaming grin and a bow.

  ‘How fascinating. Shall I go next?’ Yarrow was still being gawped at by Pook, although he seemed to be enjoying the attention. He performed an elaborate bow that made Pook chortle and wiggle. ‘Yarrow is my name: a wandering bard, collector of tales and singer of songs. I have been travelling Gotland since the Gorm’s arrival, gathering stories and recording the history of those foul beasts with my phenomenal memory –’ he tapped his head –‘so that one day I may sing of their evil and how it was defeated.’ He paused for dramatic effect.