Uki and the Outcasts

by Kieran Larwood

  ‘Oo yoo ont a ’and?’ Uki called, his mouth full of hot, fresh bread.

  Kree had tied the blanket on and was now trying to put something over Mooka’s head. He kept turning the opposite way, being as unhelpful as possible. ‘No thanks,’ she called back, through gritted teeth. ‘I’m fine! Although Mooka is going to be made into a nice pair of leather trousers if he keeps being naughty.’

  Uki heard the jerboa give a shrill ‘neek!’ of protest, before standing remarkably still while Kree bustled about him.

  A few minutes later she came out into the yard, leading Mooka by the reins. She had managed to tie a rope bridle about his head, and he hopped along behind her, nose twitching and shiny, brown eyes blinking. ‘Isn’t he wonderful?’ she said.

  ‘He’s lovely,’ said Uki, keeping his distance. Jori put out a paw for Mooka to sniff. Uki caught a glimpse of two long front teeth underneath the pink, wiggling nose, which made him step back even further.

  ‘Well,’ said Kree. ‘Are we off on our quest, then? I’ve told the innkeeper not to expect me back for about five years. I told him to listen out for songs and legends about me. And maybe to start working on a statue or something.’

  Jori rolled her eyes and tutted. Uki twitched his ears. ‘I wouldn’t get too excited,’ he said. ‘I don’t think we’ll be making any legends.’ At least, you hope not, his dark voice added. Becoming legendary usually meant you’d done something extremely dangerous, and probably died horribly in the process. ‘Besides, we have to pick something up first.’

  They headed to the smith’s and saw that she was up and about, tapping away at her workbench with a hammer. She looked up as they entered the forge and jumped to attention.

  ‘Oh, it’s you! Good morning and ninefold blessings.’ She gathered a bundle of objects from her bench and brought them over. ‘We’ve just finished your piece,’ she said. ‘My husband and I have been up all night.’ In a corner of the forge, the shape of a rabbit could be seen, hunched over a bench and gently snoring.

  ‘Here,’ said the smith, laying out her work. There were four spear hafts, each one half the height of Uki. They were made from polished hazel wood, wrapped with leather around the middle for grip.

  ‘I made short spears,’ said the smith. ‘I thought that would be best for you to throw. And these are for fitting the spearheads.’ She put five little metal cups on to the table, each with a threaded pin on the bottom. ‘If I may?’

  Uki took the big crystals from his pocket and handed them to her, watching nervously as she handled the one containing Gaunch. With quick fingers, the smith fitted the cups over the end of each, then tapped and pinched them here and there using a pair of tongs and a little hammer from her tool belt.

  When the caps were fitted, she lifted the spear hafts one by one and screwed the crystals into the ends. Now they looked like proper spears, but with pink diamonds for heads, rather than sharpened flint.

  Finally she lifted her last piece, and Uki saw it was a set of leather straps, joined together with a round, silver buckle. The smith held it up and gestured for Uki to lift his arms. The smith slid the harness over his head and tightened the straps so that it fitted snugly across his chest, like a crossed bandolier.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Uki said. The silver buckle had a pair of magpies on the front, beak to tail in a circle.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ said the smith. ‘But I was inspired by your beautiful fur.’

  Beautiful? Uki had no words. He touched the buckle gently with his fingertips and blinked back tears from his eyes.

  ‘The spearheads fit in here,’ said the smith. She took Gaunch’s crystal and screwed it into the top of the buckle. Uki could feel three more holes, east, south and west, ready for the others. ‘And on the back is a quiver. So you don’t have to carry the spears around.’ She took the four short spears and slotted them into a pouch on Uki’s back. Reaching behind his head, he found he could grab one quite easily, although drawing and throwing it at someone would be another matter.

  ‘It’s … it’s incredible.’ He managed to say. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said the smith. ‘We’ve already decided what to do with your payment. We’re heading south to buy a forge in one of them big cities. A new life for us both.’ She beamed and looked Uki up and down, proud of her work.

  Uki turned round to show his new friends. Kree gave a whistle that made Mooka’s ears twitch. Jori nodded and smiled. ‘We need to get you some fine clothes to match now,’ she said.

  They were about to say their farewells when a crowd of rabbits went past, all heading for the town gate and the plains beyond. They had spears and pitchforks and marched with their heads low, as if about to do an important but unpleasant task.

  ‘What’s all that about?’ Jori asked, watching them stomp by.

  ‘Search party,’ said the smith. ‘Three rabbits went missing the day before yesterday. They’d been out hunting in the forest and never came back.’

  ‘Three?’ said Uki. He gave Jori a worried look.

  ‘They were Nurg’s brothers,’ said Kree. ‘You know, that rabbit who was booting me around the yard. He said my tribe had come and carried them off for dinner. I told him my people wouldn’t eat maggot-ridden rat dung like his brothers if they were starving. Then he pushed me over.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the smith. ‘They weren’t the nicest of rabbits. But we all stick together out here, in the middle of nowhere. We’ll find them if we can. And for what it’s worth, Kree, I don’t think it was any of the plains tribes. Most likely Ice Waste rabbits from beyond the Wall.’

  Uki began to cringe, but then realised she hadn’t meant him. He didn’t look like an Ice rabbit, not with his half-black fur, but the comment still made him feel bad. All this rush to blame other groups of rabbits when something went wrong. He had a good idea what might have happened to Nurg’s brothers, and it was nothing to do with any tribe or race.

  ‘Well,’ said Jori. ‘We must be off. Our thanks again.’

  With a final round of smiles and waves, they headed out of the town, stopping at the well to fill their water bottles on the way.

  ‘Are you thinking what I am?’ Jori whispered, as she crouched over the well bucket with her waterskin.

  ‘The spirits?’ Uki answered.

  ‘Three of them,’ Jori agreed.

  ‘Why are we whispering?’ Kree asked, in a voice loud enough for the whole town to hear. This time, even Uki rolled his eyes.

  *

  They waited until they were a safe distance away from Nether before explaining to her. Both Jori and Uki thought that the brothers’ bodies might have been taken over by the three escaped spirits. If that was the case, it might make them much more dangerous.

  ‘But easier to track,’ said Kree. ‘If they’d asked me two days ago, I could have picked up their trail. But nobody in that town asks me to do anything except deliver messages and shovel neekneek poop.’

  ‘Can you follow trails that well?’ Uki asked.

  ‘Of course,’ said Kree, puffing out her chest. ‘Us plains rabbits learn tracking as soon as we can hop. We learn to ride jerboas even before that.’

  ‘That’s good to know,’ said Jori. ‘But Uki here has another talent. He can sense where the spirits are, can’t you?’

  Uki nodded. Although it felt strange to call it a ‘talent’. It was all just because Iffrit was in his head. He’d done nothing to earn his new skills.

  ‘Go on, then,’ said Kree. ‘Show us where they are. We can catch them all and be back in Nether for supper.’

  ‘It’s not that easy …’ Uki started to say, but both girls were staring at him, expectantly. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to focus, trying to snatch at the invisible threads that led to the spirits.

  His breathing slowed as he reached out, imagining himself as the great, fiery bird that Iffrit had been, searching the skies for his prey. That familiar tugging was there, but it felt different somehow: not so s
trong as before, as if it had spread.

  ‘I think …’ he muttered. ‘I think the spirits aren’t together any more. I think they’ve gone different ways.’

  Yes, that was it. He could still feel the pull, but it now came from three different directions. He pointed his arms to show where. The strongest was to the east, the others further off to the south.

  ‘East,’ said Jori. ‘What’s out there?’

  ‘Just the plains,’ said Kree. ‘Uluk Miniki lands are that way, and then if you go far enough, the twin cities, Syn and Nys.’

  ‘That’s it,’ said Uki. ‘That’s where the spirit is going.’ He didn’t know how he knew this – it was just something he felt inside his head. He also had a flash of memory, of an island beneath that vivid orange sky, with a huge stone fortress on it. Spears and machines of war stood along its wall, stabbing at the sky with points and spikes. The spirit within was fierce and strong, full of the urge to fight anyone and everything.

  Before he knew what was happening, Uki had fallen to the ground and began to thrash in the long grass, strange words pouring from his mouth.

  ‘Valkus, the Spirit of War. It’s him. He was made to keep one tribe of Ancients safe, but he decided to do it by killing all the others. By fighting and hurting and destroying them. Blades, metal, blood …’

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Kree’s voice seemed to come from a long way away.

  ‘He’s having a fit,’ said Jori. ‘Help me hold him.’

  Uki felt firm paws on his arms and shoulders, he smelt the crushed grass beneath him and heard his feet drumming on the soil, but it was all miles away, dreamlike. His head was full of visions of war, mixed with Iffrit’s memories of the prison, looking down on the armoured form of Valkus, trapped on his island, shooting bolts of iron up into the air.

  And then the vision switched. The hate and bloodlust of Valkus faded and he was back in Icebark Forest again. Stark, white trees everywhere. There were rabbits all around, cloaked in black, hacking through the brambles with axes and cleavers. Searching. He was searching for something.

  Uki recognised the feeling from the dreams about the tower. This was that thing again: the being that was looking for him. The being that was like one of his three spirits, yet different. By opening his mind to Valkus he had let it in, and now he was in the forest looking through its eyes, spying on it as it hunted along with these black-robed rabbits.

  Suddenly one of them shouted and he was dashing over, looking down at the very spot where he’d been standing two days ago. There was the broken earth where the crystal prison had been, one or two tiny crystals still left, glittering in the sunlight.

  ‘That’s it!’ A voice screeched. The same voice that had woken him that morning. ‘It was here! But where is the rest of it? Where are the four? They must be near! Search harder! Harder!’

  The cloaked figures began to smash the undergrowth all around, spreading out in their desperate hunt. Uki felt a hunger, a need that seemed to pound through his veins like blood, and that sense of endless searching he had felt with his first vision. It would never stop looking, he realised. Seeking the escaped spirits, seeking him …

  … and then it was gone.

  Uki found himself lying in the grass, his friends kneeling beside him. He felt exhausted, as though he had just run the length of the Cinder Wall.

  ‘What … happened?’ he managed to say.

  Jori fetched a waterskin from Mooka’s back and poured some into his mouth. ‘You had a kind of seizure,’ she said. ‘You were saying stuff about a spirit of war, and then about someone searching for you.’

  Uki sat up, rubbing his head, which had started to pound. ‘Valkus,’ he said. ‘That’s the name of the spirit that’s heading east. He loves war and fighting.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Kree. ‘That’s bad news. The plains tribes love fighting too. And if he gets to the twin cities there’ll be trouble. They’re at peace now, but legends are still told about the war that they once had.’

  ‘Then I guess we should go there first,’ said Jori. ‘If Uki can capture this Valkus quickly, we might be able to stop any trouble.’

  ‘And I saw others too,’ added Uki. ‘The thing I told you about. The one that’s searching for the spirits as well. I think it’s found the remains of the prison. I could see them in Icebark, finding the hole in the ground.’

  Jori looked back towards the forest. ‘That puts it at least a day behind us,’ she said. ‘If we make good time across the plains, we can stretch out our lead further. Can you guide us to the cities, Kree?’

  Kree nodded. ‘It’s a straight line,’ she said. ‘We can go quick. Although it’s right through Uluk Miniki lands. We had best be careful not to be spotted.’

  ‘Are they a bad tribe?’ Uki asked, remembering the stories his mother had told him.

  Kree shrugged. ‘Fierce. Good riders. Not as good as the Kalaan Klaa, of course. They are at war with us, though. Ever since our chief’s son refused to marry their chief’s daughter because she has the face of a badger’s bottom.’

  ‘They aren’t at war with us, though,’ Jori pointed out.

  ‘No, but you travel with me. If they catch us, they will probably stake us out on the plain for the buzzards to peck to death.’ Kree shrugged. ‘I’m sure it will be fine though. Let’s go.’

  With several nervous glances at each other, Uki and Jori picked themselves up and started the long walk across the Blood Plains.

  *

  They walked all day, on into the sunset, until Uki’s legs felt like they were about to fall off and even Mooka was making little neek sounds of protest. The rattling of his new spears on his back had been a pleasant novelty, but now he was sick of them banging against his ears, and the straps had rubbed his shoulders raw. He had no idea how Jori managed to carry her heavy pack so easily, or how the poor jerboa lugged the bundle of Kree’s possessions.

  The plains stretched on forever, like a red version of the sky above. Uki began to think the whole world was now made up of those two colours: endless, unbroken. He would have given anything to see a simple tree stump or a lump of rock – just something to break up the scenery a little.

  ‘We should camp now,’ said Kree, finally. ‘Night falls quickly this time of year and we won’t be able to see what we are doing.’

  ‘Did we bring firewood?’ asked Uki, looking forward to the heat and hypnotising flames of a good campfire.

  ‘No fires,’ said Kree. ‘You can see them for miles around on the plains. I can’t put up my tent, either. It has Kalaan Klaa markings. If the Miniki see it, they’ll be on us before you can say “buzzards’ breakfast”.’

  Uki sighed. That lovely straw mattress in the inn seemed like a distant paradise.

  ‘A night under the stars,’ said Kree, sounding pleased. ‘With a warm jerboa to snuggle up to, and some lovely cornbread and elderberry jam to eat. What could be better?’

  Uki could think of several things, but both Jori and Kree were unslinging their packs and setting out blankets and food. It made him feel stupid again: he had nothing with him except his spears and his raggedy old cloak. He had set off on an expedition to who-knows-where with no provisions or anything that he might need. How far would he have got if he hadn’t met his new companions?

  ‘I haven’t got any food,’ he said in a small voice. ‘I didn’t really think …’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Jori. ‘Between Kree and myself, we’ve got enough to last us a few days. You can cash in a gem and buy more when we get to the cities.’

  ‘Gems?’ Kree said, leaning back against Mooka, who had happily lain down in the grass and was nibbling as much of it as quickly as he could, just in case this resting thing was a trick and he was made to get up and walk for hours again. ‘He’s got gems?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Jori. ‘We’re travelling with a rich rabbit. He’ll soon be wearing velvet underpants and treating us to the finest blackberry wine.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’
said Uki. The thought of dressing himself in finery made him feel very awkward. He sat next to Kree and helped himself to some cornbread, trying to think of something to change the subject.

  ‘Jori,’ he said, between mouthfuls, ‘why don’t you tell us about that thing you did yesterday? That magic potion you drank that made you so quick …’

  ‘Dusk wraith,’ said Kree, sitting forward with a gleam in her eye. ‘I’ve heard tales about you. Do you really have the souls of murdered rabbits in your flask? Is that what makes you so fast?’

  Jori gave a bitter laugh. ‘Murdered souls? Do plains rabbits eat each other for breakfast and marry their jerboas?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Kree looked as if she were about to jump to her feet, and Uki had a horrid feeling there was going to be a fight, but then Jori laughed again.

  ‘Not nice when lies are told about you, is it?’ She took a swig from her waterskin, then passed it to Kree, who took it with a nod. ‘But I can tell you the truth, if you want. Why should I keep their secrets after they hunted me like a weasel?’

  She fell silent then, and Uki thought she might have decided not to tell them after all. He was just about to ask Kree a question about the plains – anything to fill the awkward pause – when Jori cleared her throat and began speaking.

  ‘Dusk angel. That’s the name of a mushroom. Small and grey, with black gills underneath. It doesn’t grow anywhere except the Coldwood, which is where my clan warren is. It’s deadly poisonous. Just one crumb would be enough to kill all three of us in less than an hour.

  ‘They start giving it to you when you’re just four. Tiny, tiny amounts, added to your food. It makes you sick at first. I remember lying in my cot for days, just vomiting. Some rabbits even die – one or two every year.

  ‘Then you begin to get used to it, so they increase the dose. More and more as you get older, until you can resist enough to drink the potion.’ Jori paused to unclip the flask from her belt and waggle it. ‘This stuff. It’s made from the mushrooms: a secret recipe that has to be brewed in an exact way.