Author: David Clement-Davies
Category: Nonfiction
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‘Yes, Drail,’ cried Sgorr, his words echoing through the wide ravine. ‘I am here to free the Herla from lies.’
Sgorr suddenly leapt forward. He gave Drail a violent buffet to his flank and the old deer was hurled backwards. Drail’s hoofs scrambled on the edge of the ravine but found no foothold. They touched air, and with one last bellow of confusion, Drail fell into the void, his body and his antlers spinning above the spray, falling past the grey stone, crashing onto the rocks below.
The three deer stood there silently in the thickening dark, looking down on the broken stag as the air howled around their heads. At last Sgorr spoke again, calmly and with a ring of amusement.
‘Now that’s finished, Narl, we can get to work.’
Narl looked at him in bewilderment.’You will work for
Colquhar’s submission?’ he muttered.
‘Narl,’ said Sgorr, smiling, ‘you really must learn to be more imaginative, more ambitious.’
‘But what is more ambitious than to be Lord of Herds?’
‘To be Lord of all the Great Land, of course. To subdue both the Low and the High Land. To bring all the herds together, not in homage, but as one, serving my will. To unite the Herla. To bring even the Clovar under my dominion.’
Sgorr’s voice seemed to have grown in power and strength as his words echoed back and forth across the ancient ravine. Narl looked back at him in amazed admiration.
‘Then we will see,’ cried Sgorr triumphantly, ‘when the Great Herd is mine and order is brought to the Herla. When they are taught to serve reason. To break free from their instincts which make them nothing but weaklings.’
Narl feared to speak.
‘But go, Narl,’ said Sgorr suddenly, coming out of his reverie. ‘Tell the Drai. . . No, tell the Sgorrla that we are coming. When you get back to the herd you will have much work.’
‘In the herd?’
‘Yes, Narl. There were those two calves last summer for a start. Then there are many others.’
Narl and Eloin both blinked at Sgorr.
‘That’s right, Narl, you must get to work removing the last traces of Drail’s bloodline. Now, leave me. I want to talk to Eloin.’
Narl nodded and turned away, but Sgorr pulled him up again.
‘Narl, there is just one other thing,’ he whispered. ‘We can also expect visitors. Colquhar is not quite won over to our cause, but he did agree to one concession, in return for my support. He has agreed to hand back our hinds and their calves. We must prepare them a special welcome.’
As Eloin heard this and Narl backed away, she spoke for the first time, her voice shaking with anger and fear.
‘You won’t harm him, Sgorr,’ she hissed, ‘or any of them.’
‘Is that a threat, my dear?’ said Sgorr, pleased that this last piece of news had had exactly the effect he had anticipated.
‘Yes, Sgorr, it’s a threat,’ said Eloin, ‘by Herne and by all the strength in my blood.’
Even Sgorr shivered a little at her tone, though the sensation gave him a strange pleasure.
‘Well, that is up to you, my dear, isn’t it?’ he said, ‘and how much you do to please me. And it’s right you should talk of blood, for soon our bloodline will be flowing through the herd.’
Eloin’s bold eyes flashed.
‘Is there nothing you won’t do, Sgorr? Nothing you fear?’
‘Nothing,’ answered Sgorr coldly, ‘except stupidity.’
‘Then it is you that is the fool, Sgorr. And one day you shall learn that. When the Prophecy is fulfilled.’
‘Not you as well,’ said Sgorr, almost yawning and shaking his head. ‘I had expected better from you.’
‘Why won’t you believe it?’ said Eloin. ’On his brow a leaf of oaken, changeling child shall be his fate.’
‘Yes, yes, I know all that,’ cried Sgorr irritably, ‘and no doubt one day Herne himself will come down, carrying Starbuck in his antlers, to tell us all we’ve been naughty little Herla.’
‘You can mock, Sgorr,’ spat Eloin, ‘but don’t you see? It’s all coming true.’
‘I admit that parts of it have provided some useful coincidences, very useful indeed. But anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Because I know the rest of it isn’t true.’
Eloin suddenly lifted her head to Sgorr’s eye. The certainty in his voice had struck a warning note.
‘You know?’ she whispered.
‘Oh yes. You see there is just one minor thing that I neglected to tell you about Colquhar’s news. Rannoch can never do me any harm, fawn mark or no.’
Eloin’s voice was faint above the sound of water, her words as strangled as Drail’s had been.
‘Why not?’ she said, trembling.
‘Because, my dear,’ said Sgorr, gazing out over the fearful abyss, ‘Rannoch was torn to shreds by dogs above the loch. He is dead, Eloin, dead.’
9 Escape
‘Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful.’ Alfred Lord Tennyson, ‘The Coming of Arthur’
‘Call yourself an Outrider?’ cried Alyth furiously as the stag beside her gave her another buffet with his antlers. ‘You’re nothing but Draila filth.’
‘It’s orders, that’s all,’ answered the stag a little guiltily.
‘Anyway they’re called the Sgorrla now and I’ve nothing to do with those scum. Be quiet and keep moving.’
Alyth glared at the stag but it was clear he was in no mood to argue and the hind ran on towards her friends. Shira, Canisp, Fern and Bracken were ahead of her now, flanked by ten Outriders. The hinds were both nervous and tired for they hadn’t rested in several suns, and the stags, ashamed of what Colquhar had asked them to do but too proud to admit they were in the wrong, had been foul-tempered ever since the party had set off from the loch. They had taken out their resentment on their charges.
None of the Outriders had been pleased when Colquhar had given the orders to hand the incomers back to Sgorr and there was still much resentment above the loch. Tharn’s sudden death had come as a great shock to many of them.
But Colquhar, as the strongest of the Outrider captains, was not an unworthy successor in the herd.
Colquhar had finally convinced them that the only way to preserve their independence was to conciliate Sgorr. So much was happening in the Low Lands with Drail’s own murder at the hands of traitors – as Sgorr had put it out – and with talk of a Great Herd, that the Outriders were keen to cling to any hope of maintaining their position. But the work they were engaged in now still stuck in their throats.
Ahead of this group of deer ran more Outriders and in the middle of them came three stags and two young hinds. Although they too were nervous about returning to the home herd, the sun was shining, there was a strange excitement in their journey and their youthful spirits could never be subdued for long. As the young friends travelled, they kept breaking out in nervous talk.
The twins were walking together now and Bankfoot was at their side. Willow and Peppa had grown into fine young does and they looked remarkably alike, although Peppa had a little splash of blackish fur on her right ear. Bankfoot had his second head of antlers, which made him very proud for he was no longer a pricket. As well as the twin beams that rose above him, thicker and more curved than in a first head, he also had two brow tines that pointed out ahead. He was only just coming out of velvet and because he was still unused to the strange, itching sensation around the base of his antlers, he kept shaking his head irritably. Bankfoot was as fat as ever and the Outriders’ refusal to let him stop and graze just added to his annoyance and discomfort.
In front, Tain and Thistle were deep in conversation. They also had their second heads and they were growing into handsome young stags, although Thistle’s antlers looked stronger and larger than Tain’s.
‘Why are the Outriders in such a hurry?’ said Peppa, as they went. ‘I’d like to stop for a while.’
‘I know,’ said Willow.’I think they just want to get it over with.’
&nbs
p; ‘I don’t see what Sgorr w-w-wants with us,’ said Bankfoot nervously.
‘Nor do I,’ agreed Peppa, ‘since Rannoch. . .’
‘Don’t, Peppa,’ said Willow immediately, wincing with an almost physical pain. ‘Don’t remind me.’
There was a sadness in the young hind’s eyes as the memory of that day on the hill suddenly flashed into her mind. She missed Rannoch bitterly and the thought of her friend’s death at the teeth of those terrifying dogs still haunted her. But what was unbearable was that she had never even seen the fawn’s body.
After Rannoch had drawn off the dog, Willow had waited all night in the bracken until the humans had left the scene of the hunt, carrying the carcasses of the dead deer away with them on their horses. Then the fawn had crept out to look for her friend. The memory of the scene still made her sick but there had been no sign of Rannoch; just the blood-soaked grass to whisper of his bitter fate. In a daze she had stumbled around searching for him, until she had seen that young human and fled through the heather.
In spite of the blood and the ferocity of the dogs, some distant hope lingered inside her and, as the seasons passed, Willow had watched and waited, in vain, until hope itself had begun to fester.
‘I know W-w-willow,’ said Bankfoot gently. ‘I m-m-miss him dreadfully too.’
‘What does Canisp think about our going back, Bank- foot?’ asked Peppa suddenly.
Bankfoot gave her an odd look.
‘I d-d-don’t know,’ answered the young stag. ‘I haven’t asked her.’
With the seasons and the coming of their antlers the young stags had grown apart from their mothers. The Outriders had pulled up suddenly and Bankfoot looked back at Canisp. Bankfoot was still young enough to be attached to the hind, but he would rather die than show that he relied on her in any way or ever asked her advice.
‘I think Bracken’s very frightened,’ said Peppa. ’After all, she has most to fear from Sgorr.’
‘Poor Bracken,’ agreed Willow. ‘I’m not sure she even realizes what’s happening. She’s never been the same since Rannoch. . . left.’
Rannoch’s loss had broken Bracken’s heart. For months the hind had been unable to speak and had drifted alone through the herd looking for her little fawn. At last the realization that he was really gone had woken in her and for a time Bracken seemed to lose her wits. She kept mumbling to herself about another hind and saying that she had betrayed her trust. The others couldn’t understand her when she talked like this, but they sensed her terrible pain and confusion.
To Bracken the world had suddenly become empty and meaningless. In her heart Rannoch had replaced her own dead fawn, and she had felt a special responsibility to protect him because of the prophecy that had woven itself round his birth. Although Bracken had never understood it and had always concealed it from the fawn, the strange events of their flight had begun to confirm the mysterious words. But the promise of the Prophecy, the hope of a new life come suddenly to replace her own loss and the dream of the future had all been torn to shreds.
‘We’ll stop here,’ cried an Outrider suddenly. ’Sgorr can’t be far away and Larn will be with us soon.’
The two groups drifted towards the trees where Bankfoot was delighted to have a chance to graze while the hinds wandered down to a stream that burbled below them through the grass. The Outriders around them began to feed, but they kept a keen eye on their prisoners as they did so. Alyth, Fern, Shira and Canisp started to drink greedily but Bracken just stood nearby, gazing dully into the waters.
‘That’s better,’ said Canisp when she had drunk her fill. She looked up towards Bankfoot and twitched her large ears.
‘Bankfoot,’ she called. ’Bankfoot, why don’t you come and drink? It’s delicious.’
The young stag stopped feeding and looked towards his mother but then he turned away in embarrassment and some of the watching Outriders chuckled to themselves.
‘Not in front of his friends, Canisp,’ said Alyth quietly.
‘If I called to Thistle like that he’d be furious.’
‘But it’s so strange,’ said Canisp, ‘not to be able to talk to him whenever I like.’
‘It’s Herne’s way,’ said Alyth, ‘that’s all.’
Canisp found it hard to let go of her only fawn. Of all the hinds, only Alyth had mated again last Anlach, though her calf had miscarried.
‘Anyway,’ Alyth went on, ‘you shouldn’t be worrying about such silly things. We’ve more important things to think about. Like Sgorr.’
‘I don’t think we’ve got much to worry about,’ shrugged Fern. ‘He just wants us back, that’s all.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ said Alyth.
‘I agree with Fern,’ said Shira, looking towards Bracken.
‘Now Rannoch’s gone he can’t have any real reason to wish us harm. That’s what Colquhar said. He told me Sgorr was very shaken up by Drail’s death and that he’s promised to preserve the Outriders above the loch.’
Bracken had heard this but it hardly seemed to register on her staring eyes. She dropped her head and started to graze. A little way away Tain came walking over to Bankfoot.
‘Hello, Bankfoot,’ he said. ‘We haven’t had much chance to talk since we left the loch.’
‘N-n-no, Tain, we haven’t,’ said Bankfoot, noticing the worry in Tain’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Thistle doesn’t seem to agree,’ said Tain, ‘but I’m nervous about going back to the home herd. I’ve heard such stories and you remember the Draila and the Drailing. Colquhar says otherwise, but why should it be any different now Sgorr’s in charge?’
‘I d-d-don’t suppose it will be,’ agreed Bankfoot.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Tain. ’You heard what that Out- rider said. Sgorr must be close. Perhaps we should try to make a break for it.’
‘Make a b-b-break for it?’
‘Yes.’
‘And go where? We can’t go back to the l-l-loch.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ said Tain glumly.
‘Besides, I d-d-don’t think the hinds would come with us. We’d have to leave them.’
Tain stared back at Bankfoot. He’d never really thought of leaving Shira before.
‘Even if they did come,’ Bankfoot went on, ‘there’s B-b-bracken to think of. She’s so strange and distant. She’d just slow us up.’
‘But if we went alone,’ said Tain, ‘slipped away at night and kept to the trees, we could make for the mountains and. . .’
Tain stopped. He hadn’t thought further than flight and now a cloud seemed to cross his mind.
‘What do the others think?’ said Bankfoot.
‘I’ve only talked to Thistle and he says I’m talking rubbish. You know he was never very pleased to leave the home herd.’
‘Well,’ said Bankfoot, ‘we should talk to Willow.’
That night, well after Larn, while the Outriders kept watch and the older hinds settled down in the grass, the young friends were found huddled together, whispering in the darkness.
‘It’s nonsense,’ Thistle was muttering irritably. ’Sgorr won’t do us any harm. Anyway, just let him try.’
‘And I’d be sad to leave Mother,’ added Peppa.
‘But Tain’s right,’ said Willow gravely. ‘We don’t know why Sgorr wants us back. From all I’ve heard he’s cruel and wicked.’
‘Some say he killed Drail,’ whispered Tain.
‘Talk some sense,’ snorted Thistle, pawing the grass. ‘Now Colquhar has thrown us out of the Herd above the loch, we’ve nowhere to go. Sgorr rules in the Low Lands.’
‘W-w-what about the High Land?’ stuttered Bankfoot suddenly.
All the friends looked at Bankfoot in amazement. They remembered vaguely that during their flight the hinds had talked of the High Land. But it was still a place shrouded in mystery. A land rich in stories and legends about the Herla and the Lera – some full of hope and wonder, others dark and frightening – woven from rumour and ign
orance, for no deer either from the home herd or the loch had ever travelled there. Tain was especially interested in the notion, for his passion for stories had grown and grown and even as a fawn he could remember asking Blindweed about the place. Consequently, though his knowledge was patchy, he knew a little more of the High Land than the others.
‘Why not?’ said Tain.
‘Because we’d never make it,’ said Thistle angrily, ‘and there’s much more to fear up there than from going back to the home herd.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Willow quietly.
‘Well I do,’ snorted Thistle, turning away furiously and walking off to graze.
‘Don’t mind him,’ said Bankfoot. ’Thistle’s always angry nowadays. He’s changed so much since his antlers first came.’
‘I know,’ agreed Willow, ‘and he’s always so keen to fight. The way he behaved last season, you’d think he was Lord of the Herd.’
‘One day I’m sure he wants to be,’ said Peppa.
‘What I can’t understand,’ said Willow, ‘is why he isn’t more angry about going back to the home herd. Why doesn’t he hate them for what they wanted to do to Rannoch? I hate them.’
‘M-m-me too,’ agreed Bankfoot.
‘We should escape for his sake if nothing else,’ said Willow gravely, ‘and tell his story to our fawns.’
The friends looked sadly at one another but now Tain suddenly coughed, for an Outrider was drifting towards them. They immediately dropped their heads and pretended to graze, and the Outrider eyed them suspiciously before returning to the others.
Morning came warm and bright and found the Outriders and their captives still by the stream. The Outriders were restless, for after suns of journeying south they knew that Sgorr must be close at hand and there was nothing they wanted more than to put an end to their shameful mission and return to the loch. They were nervous too, for though Colquhar had promised them that his pact with Sgorr had secured the independence of the Herd above the loch, they knew Sgorr’s reputation only too well and there was not one among them who really trusted him. But Colquhar was Lord above the Loch and before he had come to a decision about the incomers he had also sat with the Outriders in council. Now their orders were clear and, as Outriders, they were bound to obey.