The Hounds of the Morrigan (57 page)

‘Tickle me again!’ he roared.

He had been dead, or as the dead. The shadow held the key to his life and that was the skill in battle of which he had boasted; the Giant was deathless.

He bawled out a roar and again the ground shook at its strength. He called his great sword to life and it jerked off the anvil into the air. It fought on its own and, thirsting for blood, it flickered through the fighting men and caused red destruction. Many fell before its evil magic. The Glomach laughed and his laughter was a roar of power and scorn. He made a spiteful snatch at Pidge and had him by the collar. Pidge’s tongue was glued inside his mouth and he wasn’t even able to squeak.

The Seven Maines rushed from the thick of the fighting and attacked The Glomach, but he held Pidge in front of every attempted sword thrust, still laughing.

Brigit screamed again. She was sobbing as she pulled her brooch off her cardigan. She fumbled at it with shaking hands and she fitted the tiny arrow to the bow and drew back the string made from the hair of a horse’s tail. There was the merest whizz of a noise and the arrow went into the Giant’s elbow. The little stab annoyed him, he was caught off-balance and he fell against the wall, banging his head very badly. Again his shadow shattered to bits. Pidge made the greatest effort of his life and he leaped to stand beside Brigit.

The Glomach fell to the floor slowly and the shadow pieces scattered around him. But for one fragment, all of the bits lay on the floor. That one piece fell into the bubbling soup pot, where they watched it melt. It went like black gelatine and dissolved into dark bubbles. The smell was awful and it was the end of The Glomach. He was truly dead.

The evil life went from his sword and it too, dropped to the floor. Pidge went over to take the pebble from the still-warm hand, so ugly, so huge. His flesh crept and he was shuddering uncontrollably.

All around the battle raged, while the Goddesses shouted with savage joy. They slobbered and they didn’t try not to, and they were crying out that even the trees would tremble and bleed and the stones of the earth would weep. They walked through the fighting mass, saying words of sly sweetness like flowers of poison. Dropping their voices to a deep and artificial huskiness, they fawned over the warriors and said the old words that incite men to murder. It was the whispering of death to life, of old bones to warm flesh, a deadly mist of words sprayed out of their mouths and the more they were listened to, the stronger they became. Cúchulain continued to search for The Mórrígan among the deranged.

And the terrified children stood, not knowing what to do. Pidge’s mind was in utter turmoil. We are lost among all this and The Dagda has abandoned us, his mind was saying over and over in a wild gabble.

But Cathbad suddenly appeared in the fire and he wore his druid garments of white linen. In his hand was a slender wand of oak and he leaped from the fire and came to the children, saying:

‘The Dagda has not abandoned you.’

He raised his wand and formed a broad sweeping pattern in the air around them while he said queer stiff words.

A shroud came about the children, a shroud of protection; and they knew that they were safe within it from the battle and The Mórrígan. The terrible sights that were before their eyes grew confused and blurred, like something seen through a rained-on window. The fighting continued, however, for they could still hear the clashing of swords and the groans and shrieks of the men.

Cathbad turned to them and wordlessly Pidge held out the pebble with a hand that shook; but the druid smiled and shook his head.

‘It is still for you to do,’ he said.

He took hold of each of them by the hand and he walked with them to the fire, where all three leaped in and walked through the green haze.

Cathbad went with them through this strange shrouding and they realized that they were going through the fighting that had spilled outside into the Third Valley; but everything around them seemed completely unreal.

He went with them all the way to the Eye Of The Needle.

There he stopped. He placed his wand under his arm and then he held his cupped hands out to the children, low enough for Brigit to see.

‘Look!’ he said.

In the cup of his hands there seemed to be a rippling movement and a drop of water was there. In the drop of water they saw something that was green and pink. In a moment they saw a rosebud and it split and unfolded until a complete rose was there, with all its wonderful enfoldings of soft petals. In a second it was gone and Cathbad’s hands held a vision of the blue and purple sea, where snow-white seagulls wheeled and dived and the sleek heads of seals and the smiling faces of dolphins appeared in the shining water. The vision rippled away and now there was a thrush on its nest in Cathbad’s hands. She flew away and the sky-blue eggs with black spots were there. The eggs cracked and four naked babies came into the world. Another moment, they were fully feathered; and testing their wings, they flew away. Now there was a field with a mare and her foal, and the foal did marvellous things with its unsteady legs and its wild little head, tossing its mane and biting at the empty sky. They saw snow falling and the green spike of a daffodil rising through the whiteness of the ground and then, underneath it all, they saw the humble worm turning the earth and keeping it sweet.

And while they were watching, Cathbad’s voice asked:

‘What lies within my hands?’

‘Magic,’ Brigit whispered.

‘An enchantment,’ Pidge said softly.

‘What is the battle?’

‘An enchantment,’ Pidge said again, and he squeezed Brigit’s hand gently.

Again there was a rippling in the hands and in the drop of water a minnow swam. It was perfect in its littleness and, when it turned sideways to look out at them, they saw the wonder that was a minnow’s eye. A peacock came next and he spread his splendid tail and rattled it for them proudly. The tail shivered and the peacock was gone and now they saw the children on the swings in Eyre Square, laughing and carefee. Another moment came and they saw again the people on the bridge in Galway and it seemed that children from the whole world walked there, smiling and hopeful.

Now in the hands were two flowers fast asleep. The white flower opened and Patsy, the God Angus Óg, stood on the thick yellow carpet that was the heart of a daisy; and the yellow flower opened and Boodie, who was the Goddess Brigit, stood on the tongue-shaped petals of the dandelion. They held out their arms to Pidge and Brigit and it was an appeal and a sign of love. Boodie’s hat was still covered with flowers and butterflies and, at the front, there was a little moth with a jet-black body of velvet; his wings were red with black spots and he showed them off to the children. One of the spots grew bigger and bigger until it filled Cathbad’s hands making a cup of soft blackness. They gazed into it, and it seemed to be as deep and never-ending as space. In it there were suddenly tiny pinpoints of light and the light was brilliant white. All at once the lights were shivering and twinkling stars and they showered out of Cathbad’s hands like fireworks. They filled the air a little way above with white sparks, and there was the smell of carnations. Some drew together to write the word:

A shudder of happiness ran through Pidge and Brigit.

‘You have not lost your courage,’ said Cathbad.

The stars winked for a few seconds before fading away.

‘Cooroo waits by the waterfall,’ Cathbad said. ‘Keep your courage. The Mórrígan will follow you, but she will be patient until you lead her to Olc-Glas. The Lord Of The Waters will rise only to your bidding—Olc Glas is in his jaws. I leave you now, to go back among the wounded with my healing powers. After you find Cooroo, go home.’

He was gone and the green haze was gone.

Brigit looked at Pidge and she gave him a sudden smile.

‘We got the pebble,’ she said.

T
HEY
began to run.

Down the snaking grey thread of a path they ran, going faster as it broadened. Before very long they were on level ground and running through the Second Valley.

They went over the patch of dandelions where the Goddess Brigit had made her fire, and elation was rising in them at every step. By the time they found Cooroo, they were bright-eyed and flushed. At the waterfall he was waiting patiently; keeping out of sight in the small hazel-thicket that grew beside the joyous pool.

‘You’re safe!’ Brigit shouted; and she threw herself on him and hugged him.

‘So are you!’ the fox exclaimed, and he licked her enthusiastically.

‘Oh Cooroo!’ Pidge cried. ‘I’m so pleased to see you! You don’t know the dreadful things that have happened!’

Cooroo glanced quickly at Brigit.

‘Don’t try to tell me, Pidge,’ he said prudently. ‘You’re both safe and that’s what matters. Are you bitten, cut or wounded? Are you hurt in any way? Are you lame in any leg? Tell me that?’

‘No,’ they said.

‘You haven’t been touched! I can tell by your faces that you got that pebble you were after—you did, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ they said.

‘Good! Then the work hasn’t been wasted,’ the fox said with a quiet satisfaction. ‘Not wounded, not lamed, and fresh as the morning. When these things exist together, it’s always a new day.’

It was now that Pidge grasped at an understanding of Cooroo’s life; they were free, they were unhurt, their legs worked and there was always hope.

‘Listen to me now,’ Cooroo said, giving a serious weight to his words. ‘The hounds are lying in ambush at One Man’s Pass. Can you smell them?’

They shook their heads.

Cooroo looked amused.

‘What poor examples of noses you have!’ he laughed, and then went on: ‘They believe they have you trapped because they think that there is only one way out of this valley.’

‘There
is
only one way, isn’t there?’ Pidge asked, instantly attentive.

‘No. I’ve found another way.’

‘Where?’ Brigit asked, conspiratorially.

‘There’s a small passage behind the waterfall. It’s dark in there; but while you were gone, I went all the way through it, and it will bring us out on the east side of these mountains. East is the way to Lough Corrib and your home—is that not right?’

‘Yes,’ Pidge told him.

‘We don’t have to go over the Pass and out through the First Valley after all,’ Cooroo said. His eyes were twinkling again when he added: ‘And if I may say so, the hounds are foxed nicely, this time!’

Pidge smiled broadly. Cooroo seemed able to make anything seem normal.

‘Now, as we go through,’ the fox went on, ‘keep one hand stretched out above and ahead of you, Pidge. You’re the tallest, and I don’t know how high the roof is, so you must explore ahead by touch. Everything else is all right. It’s a bit wet underfoot but you’d expect that. The air is good and it’s quite a short way through.’

With Cooroo taking charge like this, the relief to Pidge was wonderful. It was just so comforting to have someone he could trust, who would simply take charge and give his mind a rest.

‘All right?’ the fox asked.

‘Yes,’ they answered; and then they followed him in under the waterfall.

They were in a niche or small chamber that was narrow but high enough for a full-grown man to stand upright. Facing them now, a short way in, was an apparently blank wall that was the rising mass of the mountain itself, the niche being only a tiny bite out of the living rock. They went directly to this wall.

There Cooroo made a sharp turn to the right and slipped into a division in the rock and the children followed him in. It was dark almost directly, so Pidge did as Cooroo had suggested and, with one hand upraised, he carefully searched the way ahead for any lowering of the ceiling, while his other hand gripped the pebble tightly. Brigit came last. She clutched at the hem of Pidge’s jacket and kept as close as she could to him without treading on his heels. They went in silence. Sometimes there was a drip of cold water falling unpleasantly on their necks. Occasionally they splashed in small pools that felt cold. Now and then they kicked a stone or a pebble and it clattered. Always there was the sound of Cooroo’s paws padding and splashing ahead of them.

The tunnel didn’t go through the wide base of the mountain. It was like a slice cutting across the curve of a great irregular circle, and so, very soon, there was a greyness in the dark and then a lightness in the grey and then an opening that brought them out into sunshine and the three valleys were at their backs, and left behind.

Brigit heaved a huge sigh of relief and she wiped the water from the back of her neck with her hand.

‘We’ve fooled them all,’ she said, and she skipped.

Pidge looked around him in bewilderment.

The open countryside was before them now; but another range of mountains stood ahead of them, not very many miles away.

He had quite lost his bearings and he didn’t know which way to go; but Cooroo nudged him and said:

‘Those are the Maamturks!’

And in Pidge there was conflict. His heart leaped with happiness because he knew these mountains so well by sight. He could see them every day from his home. Once they were past them, there would only be seven or eight miles to cover before they reached Loch Corrib; and at the same time he was thinking—not
more
mountains, haven’t we done enough?