‘Tharn was a fool,’ he told himself half-heartedly, tilting his twelve-pointed antlers and trying to summon thoughts to console himself. ‘He was obsessed with Herne. Remember his reaction to that fawn?’
Colquhar was a rationalist and he hated weakness. Indeed that was the main thing that attracted him to Sgorr. He didn’t believe in Herne but he did believe in the Outriders. He had been one himself and knew the pride of protecting the herd.
‘I was the strongest,’ said Captain Colquhar quietly, not without some reason. ‘I was the best so it was only right that I took over the herd.’
Again a guilty confusion entered his mind. Hadn’t that breached the ancient code of the Outriders itself? To serve without thought of personal ambition, to defend and protect. That was the Outriders’ code, that was what made them free. But Colquhar had killed Tharn and taken the herd. He had persuaded the others that it was the only way to survive and now there was blood on his antlers, blood that not even the deep, deep waters of the loch could wash clean.
‘Take what you want and pay for it later,’ said Colquhar to himself. ‘I am the Lord above the Loch.’
But instead of his heart swelling with pride, he suddenly felt a terrible remorse.
And what had he done it all for? To watch Sgorr conquer the Low Lands? To see all the Herla forced to come together in subservience? To see fallow and roe deer bound in an unnatural union? It wasn’t homage that Sgorr wanted but total dominion, and he would stop at nothing until he’d seen the Outriders driven from the Great Land for ever.
‘What a fool I’ve been,’ said Colquhar to himself bitterly, ‘to believe that he’d stop at the loch. He’ll never stop. Never.’ Colquhar’s troubled thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the approach of six Outriders through the trees. They were led by Braan, the stag who had first welcomed Rannoch and his mother to the herd all those years before. Braan, like the others, had been running hard and he looked almost exhausted.
‘My lord,’ he said, bowing as he came up.
‘Braan,’ said Colquhar, ‘you’ve been scouting. What news?’
Braan looked grave.
‘Bad news, my lord. They’re less than two suns from here, though they seem to have stopped for a while.’
‘How many?’ asked Colquhar.
‘It’s hard to tell,’ answered Braan, shaking his head. ‘Over two thousand. We counted fifteen herds, not to mention all the roe. They’ve been moving steadily north and they’re coming in our direction. The devastation is terrible. They’ve cut a swath through the forests and the browse line stretches as far as the eye can see.’
‘Then the time has come,’ said Colquhar quietly.
‘What shall we do, Lord Colquhar?’ asked a young Outrider suddenly. His name was Scal.
‘What do you think we should do?’ said Colquhar.
‘I don’t know,’ said Scal.’Go into the High Land, perhaps. We might be safe, and there are the rumours. . .’
‘Rumours?’ said Colquhar.
‘Of a deer with a mark,’ whispered Scal. ’They say he’s come to free us all. That he rose from the dead and will take the Herla across the sea.’
‘What’s this?’ said Colquhar, looking round at Braan. The Outrider shrugged.
‘There are rumours, it’s true, my lord,’ he answered.
‘There have been for some time. And we met some roe mumbling of it the other day. There is talk again of the Prophecy.’
‘The Prophecy?’
‘Some say that Rannoch never died. This deer to the north, they say he has an oak leaf on his brow, like the fawn’s.’
Colquhar said nothing for a while as he gazed across the loch to the south. He had hated Rannoch and feared that mark, but now this strange news came like a breath of hope from some distant shore, carried on the wind to a land where all hope had gone.
‘Shall we take the herd north,’ asked Scal quietly, ‘and find this Herla?’
Still Colquhar was silent.
‘We could make a stand up there.’
‘Abandon the forest and the loch?’ said Colquhar suddenly. ‘Because of rumours of a prophecy? Never.’
‘But my lord, they are too strong for us.’
‘Scal,’ said Colquhar quietly, ‘you are an Outrider. That you must never forget. Outriders do not run from danger. They do not flee when they should fight. They do not hide in gullies and hedgerows. They are bound to protect the herd at whatever cost. At the cost of their own lives if necessary. No. We shall make our stand here.’
Colquhar swayed his great antlers. At that moment something of his former glory was restored to him, for he had not been the same since guilt had begun to eat away at him. He was suddenly an Outrider once more.
Scal, Braan and the others exchanged nervous looks, for they knew how hopeless it was to fight Sgorr. But something else was stirring in them too, the honour that was their blood right. They drew up and dipped their antlers.
‘Very well, then,’ said Colquhar. ’Be ready at all times and bring me news as soon as you have any.’
They nodded as one and returned to their duties guarding the Herd above the Loch. The last free herd in all of the Low Lands.
The news was a long time in coming, for it was soon clear to the deer that Sgorr was waiting till the herd’s antlers shed and grew again.
Colquhar’s Outriders shed themselves, but as their antlers rose once more on their proud heads the sight brought little cheer to their hinds and their young calves. They realized what was coming and in their hearts they were trying to resign themselves.
When it came it was not like the storm they were all expecting to break suddenly over them. The waters of the loch were still and the sun was shining brightly when ten stags came sauntering up the valley.
They were Sgorrla and when the Outriders emerged from the trees and surrounded them angrily, they noticed with disgust the deep scars that marked their brows. But although there must have been seventy Outriders around them – for as Colquhar awaited his fate he had appointed more and more to their ranks – the Sgorrla looked back at them disdainfully. They seemed beyond fear, untouchable. They smiled coldly as they were led into Colquhar’s presence.
‘Lord Colquhar,’ said Narl, without bowing, ‘Lord Sgorr is waiting with the herd below the loch.’
‘Waiting for what?’ snorted Colquhar.
‘For you to renew your oath of homage to him,’ answered Narl.
‘Renew my oath,’ said Colquhar bitterly, ‘and is that all he wants?’
‘Why yes,’ lied Narl, ‘what else? It has been years since you paid him homage.’
‘And if I do this thing,’ said Colquhar quietly, ‘he will leave the Herd above the Loch in peace? He will let the Outriders remain?’
Narl dropped his eyes for an instant.
‘Of course,’ he answered. ‘That is your old pact. Sgorr has united the herds. He needn’t worry about you and you needn’t worry about him. He admires you, Colquhar, and wants you to continue, in peace and amity.’
Colquhar looked at Braan and he saw that the Outrider was shaking his head.
‘So what does Sgorr want me to do?’ said Colquhar.
‘Come with us. We will take you in honour to Sgorr.’ Colquhar suddenly swung round.
‘So, Braan,’ he said firmly, ‘shall I do this thing? Will you come with me?’
Before Braan could answer Narl interrupted him.
‘No, Lord Colquhar,’ he said quietly, ‘Sgorr wants you to come alone.’
Colquhar looked into Narl’s eyes and this time Narl didn’t look away. He held his gaze openly and in that knowing, slightly amused look Colquhar saw that his own fate had already been sealed. But Colquhar didn’t resist. He was almost glad, now that it had come.
‘Very well,’ he said quietly. ‘I will accompany you.’
‘No, Lord,’ cried Braan, stepping forward, ‘it’s a trick.’
‘Silence, Braan. Sgorr and I have a pact and I must pay him homage. Then the Outriders will
be safe. But Narl,’ said Colquhar, ‘I want to talk to Braan alone for a while. I will meet you and the Sgorrla by the edge of the loch.’
Narl nodded and led the Sgorrla out of the wood as Colquhar stood there in the clearing next to Captain Braan.
‘What are you doing?’ said Braan when they were out of earshot.
‘Going to meet Sgorr,’ answered Colquhar simply.
‘But it must be a trick,’ cried Braan. ’Why do they want you alone?’
‘I am sure it is a trick,’ said Colquhar quietly.
‘Then. . .’
‘Yes, Braan. But I am not afraid to die. Perhaps I can redeem a little of the harm I have done,’ said Colquhar sadly.
‘No,’ said Braan passionately, ‘we will fight. The Outriders will fight.’
‘No, Braan. I’ve been a fool. Even till now I thought we could make a stand. My vanity led me to believe that I could win back my own honour by sacrificing the herd. But I cannot. You must get them away, Braan. Take the herd north. Who knows, maybe the rumours about Rannoch are true.’
‘But you said that Outriders do not run.’
‘But nor do they sacrifice themselves pointlessly. Go north, Braan, and if you can, build a force to defeat Sgorr.’
‘While you sacrifice yourself pointlessly?’ said Braan.
‘Not pointlessly,’ answered Colquhar, ‘for I plan to win the herd time. And who knows, if I can get near Sgorr. . .’
Without another word Colquhar stepped into the open and ran down towards the loch.
As Narl and the Sgorrla led him away, they looked up at the surrounding trees and even the Sgorrla felt the stirrings of remorse, for the Outriders above the Loch were dipping their antlers in silent tribute.
The Outriders were unaware of the forces that were gathering around them as they did so. As Colquhar journeyed south, silent contingents of Sgorrla were already approaching the loch from the north, east and west. If Colquhar had thought to save the herd he was already too late. His sacrifice was an empty one. Colquhar’s Outriders were already surrounded.
It took Narl’s party three suns to reach Sgorr and when Colquhar finally came down to meet the herds he trembled at the sight. Sgorr was set apart, on a hill, and though he was encircled by a Sgorrla guard, they had been ordered to stand as far apart from him as they could while still making sure of his safety. As Narl led Colquhar forward they saw in the distance that Sgorr seemed to be talking to something in the grass.
‘Well, why don’t you answer me?’ Sgorr was saying.
‘Speak to me, damn you.’
There came a squeal of pain from the ground. Lying on the earth was a ferret. It was snow white and, being an albino, its little eyes stood out pink in its frightened face. They were glassy now and terrified. The ferret’s fur was stained with blood.
‘Come,’ said Sgorr, ‘it can’t be too difficult. My spies tell me he does it all the time. Is it true?’
Sgorr lifted his front hoof and brought it down on the ferret’s back leg. It snapped it clean in two and again the ferret squealed and spat in agony. Sgorr’s eye blazed furiously as he tried and failed to interpret the strange sounds.
‘You’re not making any sense at all,’ said Sgorr, ‘but I’ll tell you this. If it’s true and the Lera are seeking his help, they’ll suffer for it. All of them. Do you understand me?’
The ferret’s pink eyes blinked up at the deer, but the animal had understood nothing of what Sgorr had said.
‘It isn’t true, is it?’ Sgorr smiled. ‘You can’t understand me, or him. It’s all lies. Well, no matter. You for one will never understand anything again.’
As Narl and Colquhar passed through the ring of Sgorrla they started as they saw Sgorr rise up on his hind legs and come crashing down on his front hoofs. When they reached him the ferret was lying dead in front of him.
‘So you’ve come, Colquhar,’ said Sgorr casually, as he saw the Lord above the Loch approaching him. He began to scrape his slots through the grass, wiping the blood from his hoofs.
‘Are you ready then to renew your homage?’
‘If need be,’ answered Colquhar coldly, looking around him. ‘The Outriders send you welcome. In honour of our pact.’
‘Ah yes, our pact.’ Sgorr smiled. ‘Well, I’m afraid that is what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, this pact of ours, I’m rather bored of it. In fact, it’s dissolved.’
If Sgorr had expected the news to startle Colquhar he was disappointed, for the stag looked back at him without emotion.
‘Do you think I’m such a fool,’ said Colquhar quietly, ‘to believe that our pact meant anything?’
‘Then what are you doing here?’ said Sgorr.
Colquhar didn’t answer, but as Sgorr looked at him his eye suddenly glittered.
‘I see,’ he said, ‘how noble. You thought to buy them time, didn’t you, Colquhar? Time to escape?’
Colquhar dropped his eyes.
‘My poor Colquhar,’ whispered Sgorr. ’If you think you’ve helped them, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Even as you left the loch we had them surrounded. So as we speak your Outriders are being destroyed.’
Colquhar looked up and stared at Sgorr in horror but he knew immediately that Sgorr was telling the truth. Colquhar bellowed in fury and, dropping his head, he lunged at the leader. But as he did so Narl thrust himself forward and knocked Colquhar in the side. It was enough to push him off balance and save Sgorr a gouging. In an instant the Sgorrla had surrounded their leader.
‘Bravely done, Colquhar,’ said Sgorr contemptuously from behind the wall of Sgorrla, ‘but you shall pay for that.’
Colquhar recovered himself and raised his head to Sgorr.
‘Very well,’ he said quietly. ‘Then get on with it.’
‘Get on with it?’
‘You brought me here to kill me, Sgorr,’ said Colquhar quietly. ‘The sacrifice will have been in vain but I no longer care. I no longer care to live.’
‘The sacrifice?’ said Sgorr. ’How touching. But you’re wrong, Colquhar. I have no intention of killing you. I will have the Sgorrla amuse themselves with you a while for that last impertinence, but apart from that you shall live as a part of the Great Herd.’
‘Live?’
‘Oh yes. To your eternal shame, to the eternal shame of the Outriders. The last of their kind and the most degraded. Take him away.’
Colquhar bellowed bitterly as the Sgorrla surrounded him and drove him away. Sgorr stood watching and he gave a deep bark of satisfaction.
‘This is a great day, Narl. A very great day indeed.’
‘Yes, Lord.’
‘Now, Narl,’ said Sgorr, ‘is he ready?’
‘Yes, Lord, he’s waiting nearby.’
‘Then bring him to me.’
Narl nodded and ran down the slope. When he returned there was a young stag with him. Unlike the Sgorrla of which he too was a part, the stag’s forehead was unmarked.
‘You have your orders,’ said Sgorr as they arrived. The young stag nodded silently.
‘We must put an end to these lies and rumours once and for all,’ said Sgorr, ‘so there must be no mistake. No mistake at all.’
Again the stag nodded and then he turned silently and ran through the grass. His uncommonly bright eyes carried a grim purpose. A purpose for which he had been trained since birth. All his life he had been made ready for this moment and now he had his orders, and his mission lay to the north.
19 A Healer
‘. . . but it lies, Deep-meadow’d, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown’d with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.’ Alfred Lord Tennyson, ‘The Passing of Arthur’
A stag was lifting his head to the morning. The four tines on each of his antlers were covered in velvet and his coat was a rich red. Around him the moorland grasses quivered the colour of saffron and the craggy mountains had blushed a deep, lush purple. Suddenly, from the mass of blue above him, there came a furious shriekin
g and a flash of black and gold shot through the air. Talons glinted in the bright sky and as the eagle closed on its quarry there came another shriek and then silence.
The stag looked about him fearfully, scenting the wind and testing the distances with his large eyes. The deer was unusually nervous for he was not used to travelling alone through the High Land. He had grown up in a Slave Herd and the past week’s journey had provided him with a bewildering array of new sensations; some terrifying, others rich with wonder and delight. But although he would not have given up a single one of them to feel safer than he did, he was beginning to grow a little lonely.
A new look came into the stag’s eyes as he caught a voice on the breeze. He swung his head to the east and the secret whispering of the senses that had already told him what was there was instantly confirmed as he caught sight of another deer coming towards him through the heather. It was a young hind. The stag pawed the ground and though it was not yet Anlach, he felt excitement stirring inside him. He ran towards her.
‘Hello there,’ he called cheerfully.
The hind stopped but though she too was on her own, there was little in her look that spoke of fear. She nodded her sleek head to the stag.
‘Are you alone?’ asked the stag.
‘Yes,’ answered the hind.’You?’
The stag nodded and as he did so he noticed that her right front leg was matted with blood. The wound was deep.
‘You’re hurt?’ said the stag.
‘Yes, I had a fall.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the stag in that matter-of-fact way common to Lera, which is as much as to say that a wound is a wound and there’s little you can do about it so it’s probably best not to dwell on the fact.
‘It won’t heal,’ the hind went on. ‘In fact, I think it’s getting worse. So I’m going south towards the Great Mountain, to see if He can help.’
The stag looked at her with a new interest.
‘He?’
‘The Healer, or whatever they call him.’
‘The Marked One, you mean,’ said the stag gravely. ‘I’m going to find him too.’
‘Are you wounded?’
‘No,’ answered the stag, ‘but I want to join his herd in the shadow of the mountain. Since the Slave Herds were disbanded many of us have been travelling south to see him and they say he never turns a Herla away.’