Then Oona cried,
âThere they are, lads!'
and Morris cried, â
Attack!
' and blood-red ran the river where the battle broke. The banks of the Torrid were whited by winter then dashed with crimson. Crimson too across many mouths: rags were knotted to hide tell-tale breath, boys of the Cause on bellies and knees behind trees and rushes, all firing, mouths bellowing â

â!'

(Too much gunfire to hear anything but gunfire.)

When Invaders fell on the opposite shore others came rushing to take over. When boys fell on the side of the Cause, no one came to replace.

Oona ordered, â
Keep your heads down!
' and Morris ordered, â
Keep firing, don't give in!
' Not one was thinking surrender.

Morris roared, â
Don't let them cross! Don't let them into Drumbroken!
'

Look closely â Morris was on his front among reeds, small, skinny as a sally-rod and soot-haired, chilled to the soul but with heart blazing. He took aim with his granda's rifle, slowly and carefully and patient. But too slow â the thing jammed and his hearing rang with a long thin note as a shot went out from another rifle. The Invader he'd been eyeing fell.

Look closer â see Oona, the twin sister, on her belly too and only feet from Morris, same coloured head of hair on her.

âThat was my shot to take!' Morris told her.

âNot my fault you're too slow,' said Oona. âIs it my fault that gun's too heavy for your wee hands?'

â
One down doesn't win a war!
' said Morris. (Old bit of preaching from their da's mouth.)

âThanks for reminding me,' said Oona. She rolled her eyes.

So Morris had to prove: his finger tugged the trigger and there was a blue-white flash and the gun bucked against his collarbone and another Invader fell into the River Torrid.

âGood shot, boy Kavanagh!' one of the Cause boys shouted.

âNotice no one is so quick to thank me,' said Oona.

âNow now,' said Morris, ânone of them bitter words. Very unappealing from a lady.' Oona used words to reply that definitely weren't lady-likely.

âTurf-mouth,' he told her.

âClod-head,' she told him.

Both kept firing like it was their own private game. But how did they get there, these two? Beside the River Torrid, bickering?

Morris's first meeting with the Cause had gone like this: in a tin hut on the edge of Drumbroken with flags rippling on all walls, whiskey bottles were lined up along the rim of a tin bath and the Cause had said, âShow how good you are with that gun of your granda's!' He'd done well enough, exploded all of the bottles except one. The boys of the Cause had all cheered and hailed him, âA legend in the making!' Then they'd waved their crimson flags, sunk enamel cups into the bath, drunk the whiskey that had collected there and all gotten wildly drunk as they sang their anthem,
The Song of the Divided Isle
.

Back by the river and Morris aimed once more. Fired â another Invader down. Again the call of congratulation: âGood one, boy Kavanagh!'

Oona held her breath and one-two-three quick shots = three Invaders falling.

No one acknowledged.

Oona's first meeting with the Cause: she turned up at the tin hut the night after Morris had, but was told she wasn't wanted. But she wouldn't be told, kept coming back and back every night, and in the end they said that if Oona wanted to try to act like a man and fight then that was her burial, but they wouldn't be there to pick her up or look after her. Then she'd done the same shooting trick as Morris, but destroyed every single bottle on the bath. Nothing was said. The gun Oona had used was one she'd found in a ditch on the way there.

Now Oona ducked low in the reeds by the River Torrid â suddenly so much gunfire was her way, Invaders knowing she'd be a good one to take out.

âWatch yourself there, girl! Shouldn't be here at all, should be at home keeping house!'

This was Davy, near by. Fifteen years old, so only had two years on the twins, but he was their self-appointed leader. But Davy couldn't (Oona thought) have hit a cow in a cattle-mart. She showed him the tip of her tongue. Then she watched Davy's shoulder jerk, saw blood dash his cheek and any scowl slipped from his face. He collapsed.

Oona looked at Morris. They both did a deep swallow, and continued to fire. But night was determined to darken the scene, and each moment meant it was harder to see what was approaching. And maybe-minutes-maybe-moments and more of the Cause were felled.

Somebody else made a feeble cry, âThey're going to cross into Drumbroken!'

But said too late: Invaders had entered the river and begun to wade across, their uniforms quickly shifting colour from winter-white and blood-red to just blood, matching the colour of the river.

âSee!' Morris told Oona. âIt's true they have some North magic to make them blend into things, so they'll not be easy seen!'

âIt's just the river staining their clothes,' said Oona. âWe're not winning this. We need to move into the forest â we know the trees and these Invaders don't. We'd be better off.'

Morris said, âNo! You said you weren't frighted.'

Oona nudged him and said, âNot. Also said I wasn't going to die.'

Morris said, âYou go. I'm staying.'

And then came the call from other boys fleeing: âBoys of the Cause retreat! Back into the trees! Run for it!'

Said Morris again, âI'm not going anywhere, sister dearest.'

âMorris,' said Oona, âI know it's hard for you, but try not to be the usual stubborn eejit!'

Morris didn't speak.

Invaders arrived on the shore and were shouting, âAfter them! Pursue into the forest! We need them alive!'

Oona took her brother by the wrist and said only, â
Morris
.'

He swallowed. âI can't,' he said. âFor Da and Granda, and for the Cause and for our county of Drumbroken, for all the Divided Isle I have to â'

BOOK: The Black North

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