The Black North (10 page)

Cry of Merrigutt: ‘Protect the Stone!'

Screech of the bird on the faceless Invader's shoulder: ‘Grab her!'

Cry of Aedan Kavanagh: ‘
Now, Evelyn!
'

Merrigutt leapt to a candle bracket and then to Oona's shoulder, and the back of the fireplace opened and shut like a trap and Oona was swallowed, the hands of the faceless creature and the screech of the crimson-eyed bird left on the other side.

Oona demanded, ‘What the hell was what thing?'

But her great-grandfather's voice was keen to urge
,
‘
Hurry!
Down the steps and don't stop for nothing!
'

‘But –' began Oona, but beginning to move too.

Merrigutt said, ‘Just move like you're told or we might as well say our Farewell Prayers to Her Sorrowful Self! And keep that Stone close!'

So Oona moved, on bare feet down cold stone steps.

‘
Quicker if you can,
' said her great-grandfather.

The Loam Stone gave some light to see by, the littlest; felt smaller in Oona's hand, seemed shrunken. Like it's been frighted, thought Oona. But even if there'd been more light from the Stone it would've had nothing to show: walls to left and right of Oona were blackened, same as above. Alongside her she had the sense of something moving, of her great-grandfather keeping close. He said, ‘
Don't spend time looking for me. Just concentrate – quickly down. Few more steps just.
'

Oona felt laden with questions, but she waited till the end of the staircase and her feet fell on flatter ground and then she let words escape: ‘Now tell me what that was. Or who? Was it a who or a what?'

‘A
creature
,' said Merrigutt, still on Oona's shoulder. The jackdaw sounded almost breathless, like she'd been flying ceaselessly for a long, hard season and had landed only that instant. ‘A
thing
. And something I wasn't expecting to see.'

‘
Must've come South to lead the Invaders,
' said Aedan Kavanagh. ‘
He is the King's most trusted advisor. His Captain.
'

‘He –' began Oona. She wasn't sure how to say it except to just say it: ‘He didn't have a face.'

‘We should be thankful he didn't,' said Merrigutt. ‘Thankful he wasn't wearing some other face he'd stolen to fool us!'

‘
He can take on the appearance of any he likes,
' said Great-grandfather Kavanagh.

‘How'd he get like that?' asked Oona. ‘Some North magic, is it?'

‘Some darkness,' said Merrigutt. She shook her feathers. ‘Some seed that the King planted, fed with blood and poison and up popped that creature. Was tugged out like a weed by the bird he carries on his shoulder – a Carrion Changeling. And since then the two of them can't be separated, some rotten bond between. The bird does the talking, the thinking, all things – the bird is the thing you need to worry about.'

Oona said nothing. She drew her mother's cloak closer.

‘Is this tunnel even safe, Aedan?' asked Merrigutt. ‘Will they not have it covered at the other end?'

‘
Let's hope and give prayers that they don't. This is the tunnel Slopebridge used to escape, and I don't think many know about it. It'll take you all the way into the next county – to Ballyboglin and the island town of Innislone. It's the best choice you have.
From there, it's not far to the Divide.
'

Oona had more questions but had to concentrate – on into the lowest stone tunnel, stooping, her head held so low all of her soon hurt, neck and spine and scalp. Merrigutt had to swap Oona's shoulder for the ground to hop ahead. And still Oona couldn't help checking for her great-grandfather, wanting to see him fully, this remainder of a Kavanagh she'd not ever known. She watched, and saw something like a shadow of her own shadow travelling keen, fast-moving, and always a little ahead. And then she lost him. His whisper said, ‘
This is as far as I can take you. Only as far as the fire touched.
'

Oona looked and saw some end to the burning, some stone untouched.

‘So you're trapped in that Big House?' said Oona. ‘Forever?'

‘
And ever more,
' said her great-grandfather. ‘
It is where I died, where my body rotted and bones burned. I died, as you said so rightly, in a shameful way – in search of wealth. And so here I must remain.
'

‘But what happens if the house just crumbles away to nothing?' asked Oona. ‘What'll you do then?'

‘
I do not know,
' said her great-grandfather.

‘Or can you not try some other way to get out maybe?' asked Oona. ‘Are you some kind of spirit now or …?'

‘
I do not know what I am. Perhaps only little more than an echo.
'

Oona opened her mouth with more but found that she couldn't follow such fine words.

‘
Listen,
' said Great-grandfather Kavanagh. Behind them, following: fast footsteps. Ahead: an uncertain light. ‘
Go now!
'

But Oona didn't want to leave. He might only be darkness and uncertainty – whisper and shadow – but she had found some comfort in the presence of her great-grandfather. And before she went, for a silent moment she settled one hand to the stone, to where she imagined his dark lingering. Then Oona heard Aedan's voice once more, a final murmur for her only –

‘
Be careful with that Stone. Be so very careful. Its echoes have destroyed so many in our family. In the end, everyone has lost sight of its light and fallen into nightmares.
'

Oona said, ‘I won't let that happen to me. I'll be different. I promise it.'

Then the sound of footsteps still approaching, and faster –

‘
I'll distract them as best I can,
' said Oona's great-grandfather. ‘
Good luck.
'

‘Go!' said Merrigutt, always there to will on, to command.

But already Oona was running, eyes on the end of the tunnel, on a light that flickered and fell in scraps and made doubles and triples of her juddering shadow.

‘Firelight?' said Oona.

Merrigutt said, ‘Aye. It's Innislone.'

Then Oona remembered Bridget's words, and said to herself aloud: ‘
The town that won't be drowned
.'

Suddenly Oona was walking through water, a soup of sucking and squelching beneath her feet.

‘Ballyboglin,' said Merrigutt. ‘Dampest and dankest county in the whole Divided Isle.'

So walking (near wading) onwards, Oona lifted her cloak and dress and was thankful just then for the firelight to see by …

Noise reached her ears first – a crackling-crunching, loud as a whole forest being taken by flame. Noise, then heat, and Oona lifted herself from the passage and looked down: fire was tearing at night-sky, the town of Innislone under attack.

‘Well hell's bloody bells,' breathed Oona.

‘Look out!' said Merrigutt.

Oona ducked down and half-ran, finding a bedraggled birch – web-choked and rotten and broken by the same dispell that had crept into Drumbroken – to hide behind as a trio of Invaders appeared from the tunnel. They looked about a bit, but were more drawn by the sight of Innislone. They ran on and down, joining Invaders who were streaming in across the bogland from all sides, all flowing into the hollow towards blaze and battle.

Oona edged up for another look, a squint.

Firelight was reflected far – a mirror made by the lough the town was built on. Oona thought it must've given Innislone some protection, the surrounding water. And hadn't Bridget mentioned something about bridges? Oona couldn't see any, but couldn't see much. What she did see was fire being kindled by Invaders and launched on the end of long arms, hurled by a snapping mechanism and then falling on the buildings closest to the edge of the town. The flames took quickly, chewed-up and spat out whatever they fed on, fragments of Innislone ending life in the lough in a final gasp of steam.

‘How the hell have they even survived this long?' asked Oona.

‘Sometimes sheer stubbornness can work wonders,' said Merrigutt, landing on Oona's shoulder. ‘But they'll not hold for much longer.' They watched more flame leap across the lough and land. They saw more houses collapse. ‘Till dawn,' whispered Merrigutt. ‘By sun-up, Innislone will be at the bottom of that lough.'

Oona couldn't disagree.

‘Is there some other way to get to the Divide from here?' asked Oona.

‘If you're still set on this,' said Merrigutt, ‘then across the lough is the quickest way. Over to the far shore, then only a bit farther on. But if we hadn't gotten ourselves into this situation, if you hadn't gone to that Big House then –'

‘But I did and there's nothing I can do about it,' said Oona. ‘We can't go back. We're here now, so how are we gonna get by this mess?'

‘All up to me now, is it?' said Merrigutt.

‘Yes,' said Oona. ‘It's about time you showed some of this North magic that I've heard so much about. Or is at all just talk?'

She felt the jackdaw stiffen.

‘You'd better get ready to run like blue blazes, my girl!' said Merrigutt. ‘You want North magic – then keep your eyes wide and watch.'

Oona caught Merrigutt's transformation more clearly than she'd done any other time, but still it was too quick: just jackdaw-then-old-woman in a blink-quick glimpse. The old woman Merrigutt shook herself, and then started a rifling with one long-fingered hand through the black that covered her, eventually finding another pinch of scarlet powder. She gave Oona a wink, and then began a slow stroll down the slope.

‘Where are you going, woman?' said Oona. ‘They'll see you!'

Merrigutt didn't answer. She looked to be letting the powder leave her hand slowly, at the same time back-walking and muttering, changing direction like it was precise. Backing and backing until she was back by Oona, who stood and looked out over the broad scarlet pattern dropped on bogland: it had been laid out in the shape of a man.

‘Suppose it's impressive enough,' said Oona. ‘But how does a nice pattern help us to –?' The bog began to twitch and churn.

‘Better step back a wee bit there,' said Merrigutt. She was smiling.

Within the shape Merrigutt had drawn, all grass and earth and bush and falling bog-water was lifting, tearing itself up, was lifting to stand massive. Oona herself stepped back and back. She lifted her gaze to look and couldn't look high enough, the figure of the bog-made man towering tall. And she wasn't the only one watching – a new urgency could be heard in the voices of the Invaders attacking Innislone, shouts and callings as they stopped their attack on the town to watch.

‘They mightn't be unused to the sight,' said Merrigutt, ‘but unlike their Muddgloggs, this is our own solitary soldier. He's a man, but one that'll at least do as he's told.'

Oona was still watching: felt dumb in her gaping but she could do little else. The bog-soldier's head was a dark eclipse across moon, and Oona saw a pair of rough openings like eyes that allowed moonlight through. And did he look to Merrigutt then, wanting orders? She saw the old woman nod, and the bog-man nod back in reply. Then he began to stalk down the slope, into the hollow, towards Innislone.

‘Now follow,' said Merrigutt. A twitch and small hop and again she was a jackdaw, again onto Oona's shoulder. ‘Now run!'

Oona had to swerve to avoid the place where the bog-soldier had lain before being summoned: a deep pit in his image, new scar on the South. She stayed close in his shadow though, hoping to remain unseen. But as the bog-man walked he lost pieces of himself, great clumps of sog and clay and damp dark falling to the ground.

‘He won't hold together long,' said Merrigutt. ‘Hurry!' It was a command for Oona and the bog-soldier both –

In only two or three strides he reached the lough and the army of Invaders were sent scattering. Oona reached the shore less than a minute later and saw a single currach bobbing, abandoned, a single oar resting across. She ran to the boat and leapt in. Oona had never rowed a boat but didn't dwell – she'd have to give it a go – what else could she do? She pushed off from the shore and began to beat her way towards Innislone.

Merrigutt told her, ‘I'll fly ahead and warn the Lough-Master that you're crossing, otherwise they might shoot. Don't have long of our soldier left by the looks of him.'

The jackdaw left, and Oona half-turned, looking up – true enough, their bog-man was returning to the earth, one vast limb at a time. His arms were easing away from his body, falling and sending more Invaders scampering. And still Oona smashed at the water, trying to move herself on. Then Merrigutt was back, perching on the rim of the boat and saying, ‘All right, they say they're gonna open a bridge for you. Row faster!'

Oona had no breath to spare for speech. She worked hard towards the wooden platform she saw being lowered, a section of the wooden wall that enclosed the town being opened in one of the few parts of Innislone not crawling with flame. Then a shout from behind her –

‘There! Look! Someone's crossing!'

Oona swore as the surface around her was broken by gunfire.

‘Look out, my girl!' called Merrigutt.

Oona turned to watch: body sinking, the final piece of the bog-soldier was falling, the massive dark of its head tumbling and –

‘Damn,' said Merrigutt. ‘Hold on.'

Oona dropped the oar and clamped hands around the rim of the currach as the bog-man's head hit water and a wave sprang high. No more rowing was needed – the boat was rushed towards the wall of Innislone, was flipped and Merrigutt was lost to the air as Oona fell into the water. The lough was so cold it stole her breath. A fast runner, quick climber, but not a strong swimmer – Oona surfaced and straight away shouted for help.