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403 lines
20 KiB
HTML
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<head>
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<title>Mythlands - Chapter 31</title>
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<div class="section" id="xhtmldocuments">
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<h1>31</h1>
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<p>
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They watched as the water level dropped. Declan stood on the top of the hillock, leaning against his horse. He had been silent since he had emerged from
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the Black Barrow. Neither Jack nor Kerry wanted to ask him what terrifying visions he had seen in the darkness there.
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</p>
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<p>
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Blood soaked into Jack's sleeve from the cut of Corriwen's blade. He was not in real pain, but his arm felt weak and shaky.
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</p>
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<p>
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Corriwen sat close, with the Redthorn Sword on her lap, slowly stropping its gleaming blade with her sleeve. It glowed with an light of its own. The hilt
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was carved from the same black, translucent stone as the heartstone on its chain. The pommel was silver too, with a smoky cairngorm stone at the end,
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etched with interlocking letters.
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</p>
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<p>
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Jack could read them from where he sat, and though he said nothing, his heart quickened. The lettering was exactly the same as the ones carved on the bone
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handle of the penknife in his pocket, the one the Major had given him, without explanation, when he was ten years old.
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</p>
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<p>
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They read: J.C.F.
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</p>
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<p>
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He stared at it for a long time, thinking hard, recollecting the snippets of information he had gleaned all along the way since even before they had
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tumbled through the stone gate into this strange world.
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</p>
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<p>
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And the words of the Morrigan inside the barrow came back to him too, though he wondered if she had planted dreams in his head, or whether she had spoken
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the truth, or if he would die here without finding out any of what was important to him.
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</p>
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<p>
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Corriwen Redthorn looked up at him.
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</p>
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<p>
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"I didn't thank you," she said.
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</p>
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<p>
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"For what?"
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</p>
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<p>
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"For this. For saving this for Temair."
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</p>
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<p>
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"I don't know if it has made a difference. We were too late."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows the future?" She touched his hand, letting the sword rest on her lap. She clasped Kerry's hand too.
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</p>
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<p>
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"And I haven't thanked you for all of it. For coming on this journey with me." She gave them a small, almost shy smile. "And for being my true friends."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Aw shucks," Kerry said, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Buy me a beer and we'll call it quits."
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</p>
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<p>
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They both looked at him.
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</p>
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<p>
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"I heard that in an old movie."
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</p>
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<p class='break'>* * *</p>
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<p>
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By morning, the storm was directly overhead and Mandrake's hordes, thousands of Scree, traitorous chiefs and their horsemen faced Alevin and his fighters
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and a raggle-taggle band of weary men and boys armed only with hammers and pick-axes.
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</p>
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<p>
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Kerry huddled against the other two, with the Leprechaun snuggled under his arm. He looked up at the maelstrom above.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Looks like heavy weather," he said, to no-one in particular.
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</p>
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<p>
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Corriwen was so pale she looked ill.
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</p>
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<p>
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"They cannot fight. There's too many of them."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Oh, they will fight," a voice came from behind them. They turned as one and saw Finbar standing on top of the hillock. Beside him were four others. Jack
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recognised the Bard of Otter Holt and three more tall old men with long, braided beards, staves in their hands. They were dressed all in white.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Comes the day, comes the hour." Finbar said.
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</p>
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<p>
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"See the front of battle glower," Jack said. "Robert the Bruce said that."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Comes the hour comes the hero," the second Bard said, almost a chant.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Comes the hero," said the third, "comes the heart."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Comes the heart and good prevails."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Good prevails and evil fails."
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</p>
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<p>
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Corriwen listened, but she was not convinced. "Fine words. But they are outnumbered ten to one."
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</p>
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<p>
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Just as she spoke, the Scree began to roar their battle cries. They battered their clubs against broad shields and the hounds set up a howling that was as
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eerie as it was frightening. On the opposite side of the basin, Alevin's small army stayed silent.
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</p>
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<p>
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The Scree marched forward. Corriwen could see the black form of Mandrake astride his wagon, urging them on. As the Scree began marching down from the high
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ground, there was a strange sound, so deep Jack could feel it vibrate in his bones.
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</p>
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<p>
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"It begins again," Finbar said. "<em>She </em>stirs."
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</p>
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<p>
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Without warning, the Black Barrow heaved. Jack thought it looked exactly like a waking beast. Cracks split the ground with a sound like gunshot and
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stuttered across the basin in hard, jagged lines.
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</p>
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<p>
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The wind fell. Corriwen gripped the Redthorn sword in both hands. Jack slipped a black arrow to his bowstring. They waited, breath held.
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</p>
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<p>
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Kerry heard it first, a sound like a low groan from deep in the earth.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Is that her?"
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</p>
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<p>
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Jack couldn't reply. His lungs had locked tight. One of the bards raised his staff up to the sky and began a low chant.
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</p>
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<p>
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Then there was movement. It came from the cracks where the water had flowed, and at first it seemed as if the sand was shifting. Jack managed to get his
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breath.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Look there," Finbar said. He pointed to the slope behind Alevin's force. They all looked and saw the hill slowly change colour, as if splashed with sage
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green paint. The desert slope was turning green in a slow wave.
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</p>
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<p>
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"More magic?" Corriwen asked.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Not yet," Finbar managed to chuckle. "The Leprechaun have come from their glades. For the good of all Temair."
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</p>
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<p>
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Jack strained to see. What looked like a carpet of moss growing across the hillside<em> </em>resolved itself into a horde of the little people, moving fast
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as rabbits, silent as mice, flowing down the slope towards Alevin's band.
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</p>
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<p>
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"They're just little guys," Kerry said. "They'll get slaughtered for sure without those trees to help."
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</p>
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<p>
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The ground shuddered again.
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</p>
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<p>
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A shadow wavered up from the nearest crack in the earth. For a second Jack thought it was her, the thing in the Barrow, and then he saw a cloud of black
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flies, hatching from the earth, hundreds of them, thousands, suddenly a huge swarm, buzzing in unison
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</p>
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<p>
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The Bard of Otter Holt had closed his eyes and was chanting into the wind.
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</p>
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<p>
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The flies spun in their own insectile whirlwind and the stench of rot from their number was awesome. Beyond the Barrow, they heard Mandrake's voice, not
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his words, but just the high pitched clamour. And as one, the flies arrowed towards Alevin's line.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Blood suckers and carrion eaters," Finbar said. "Summoned from the depths."
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</p>
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<p>
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Beside him the tall Bard still chanted, hands high, holding his stave.
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</p>
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<p>
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And from the far south from where they had travelled, something glittered in the sky. He sang on as the cloud of biting insects spun round, humming their
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own death song, towards the pitiful force.
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</p>
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<p>
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Then the flock of silver swifts, thousands strong, came on singing wings, sweeping over Alevin's head in such numbers they hid the entire force from view
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and swooped straight for the cloud of flies.
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</p>
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<p>
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The second bard was beside the first, chanting his own song, facing the west and the far sea. He held his stave up in two hands and closed his eyes. His
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deep baritone voice spoke to the western sky. Finbar spoke to the east. They chanted, different words, but in rhyme and counterpoint.
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</p>
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<p>
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The Scree began to charge across the plain.
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</p>
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<p>
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Corriwen grabbed Jack's hand and dragged him to the top of the hillock. Without a word she stripped off his jacket and tore his shirt open. The red hand
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stood out clearly under the five points of the corona.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Take the sword," she ordered, her face grim.
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</p>
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<p>
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"No," Jack said. "It's yours. You need it."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Do it, for me. For Temair." She pushed it at him. "And for us all."
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</p>
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<p>
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Jack took it. It sang in his hands, suddenly riven with huge power. Instinctively he raised it above his head in one hand. He raised his left, caked with
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his own blood. Corriwen held on to him as the wind buffeted them. She stood on her tiptoes, cupped a hand to her mouth and called across the distance to
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Alevin.
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</p>
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<p>
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"A Redthorn!" she called, clear and high, loud enough to pierce the wind and the screams of the feeding birds.
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>A Redthorn</em>! Rally to the Red Hand."
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</p>
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<p>
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Alevin's head turned. He raised his sword and a cheer went up from the men around him.
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</p>
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<p>
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"The Redthorn!" the soldiers roared. To a man, they raised their weapons high and clattered their shields. In front of their horses, something small moved
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out. Jack recognised the ancient leprechaun from the forest. He reached the flat and slowly sank to his knees.
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</p>
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<p>
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"He sacrifices for the poisoned land," Finbar said. "In a war that is not of his making."
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</p>
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<p>
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As they watched, the old king dug his feet deep into the soil, even as the Scree came charging across the plain, and then his arms began to twist. His
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fingers lengthened, split into twiggy branches, elongated further and became branches. Small leaves sprouted around his gnarled face and shoulders and the
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elongated, knobbly arms. His body stretched, creaking and as quickly as they had formed, the leaves shrivelled and died. Bark-like skin simply peeled away.
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</p>
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<p>
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"He's drawing the poison," Finbar said.
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</p>
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<p>
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"What for?" Kerry asked.
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</p>
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<p>
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"To make it fertile."
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</p>
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<p>
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The old king was completely still now. His knobby shoulders looked like dead wood. One of the branches that had grown from his fingers cracked and fell to
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the ground. The wind blew off another one. The horde of little leprechauns watched in complete and reverent silence.
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</p>
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<p>
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Then, as the old creature withered and died a tide of the leprechaun people came swarming from behind Alevin's horses and swept out onto the plain in a
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green flood.
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</p>
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<p>
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Alevin's captain blew his horn and the great horses stepped forward to meet the Scree hordes.
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</p>
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<p>
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The Scree charged on, their hounds snarling and slavering in anticipation. The green host of leprechauns flowed out to meet them and Jack thought their
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advance was nothing short of suicide. The ground shook as the grey tide charged to meet the green. Then, in the centre of the plain, the leprechauns
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stopped all in a line, looking for all this world like a sward of moss. None of the watchers could make out what was happening.
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</p>
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<p>
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The Scree raised their clubs and spears and raced towards them, set for slaughter.
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</p>
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<p>
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Without a sound, the leprechauns pulled back, drawing the Scree towards Alevin's men in a ferocious rush. In the lead was a grey giant, wide as two men, a
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war club in each hand. He charged ahead, took a swipe at a little leprechaun who ducked and scampered out of reach.
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</p>
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<p>
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The giant fell. No stumble, no pause. He just fell flat. Beside him another Scree tumbled and rolled, kicking his hobnailed feet against something green
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that entangled his feet.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Small, but clever," Finbar said.
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</p>
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<p>
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A third Scree stopped dead and started to drag his foot which seemed to be nailed to the ground. Another clutched at something on his leg.
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</p>
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<p>
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One of them screamed like a hog and sank to his knees as a thick, thorny tendril reared like a snake and curled around his throat. It tightened like a
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snare and blood spurted in a gush. In an instant the plain was writhing with spiked runners that swelled from the soil and snagged and snatched at the
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onrushing army, tripping them, noosing them; spiking them with jagged thorns.
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</p>
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<p>
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The old king's sacrifice had not been in vain.
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</p>
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<p>
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The Scree's bellows of triumph turned to screams of fear and pain.
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</p>
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<p>
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Alevin's men spurred their horses onto the plain and charged at the entangled front line. The Scree were too busy with their own predicament, trying to
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free themselves from the snares and garrotes that held them fast. Some of them were blinded by stabbing thorns, some choked where they stood.
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</p>
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<p>
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And the rest of the front line were cut down by Alevin's fighters in a swathe of blades and clouds of arrows.
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</p>
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<p class='break'>* * *</p>
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<p>
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But there were thousands more Scree behind the entangled front. Mandrake was on his wagon, waving his arms, giving orders to traitor chiefs. Horns blew and
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the Scree army swerved around their fallen comrades to attack Alevin's flank.
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake was in an agony of indecision. His Scree were dying in hundreds, but worse, the Redthorn Sword had been taken, and the heartstone was still not in
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his grasp.
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</p>
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<p>
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He had planned and worked for this, and now, on the point of victory, he had failed her.
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</p>
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<p>
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Her wrath, he knew, would be devastating. And he would suffer the consequences.
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</p>
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<p>
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He could see the girl, out beyond the fighting - the <em>slaughter</em> - and the boy with the heart stone. And the Bards were there, calling their
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familiars and the forest people against her. They would fail in that endeavour, he was sure.
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</p>
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<p>
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But he could not face her, not without the prize she had demanded. The price of his future.
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</p>
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<p>
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He knew just where he had to go.
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</p>
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<p class='break'>* * *</p>
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<p>
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Jack and the others stood mesmerised, close enough to the carnage to smell the blood and sweat.
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</p>
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<p>
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Finbar laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.
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</p>
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<p>
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"They will come for you now, Journeyman," he said. "And what you carry. And for the Redthorn Sword. It's time for you to leave the field."
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</p>
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<p>
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Jack had been so riveted by the battle that he hadn't even thought to flee. But as Finbar spoke, a phalanx of Scree started to beat its way past the
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thrashing and dying front line, moving to cut them off.
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</p>
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<p>
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"We will hold them," Finbar said.
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</p>
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<p>
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"How?"
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</p>
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<p>
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Finbar pointed to the sky in the west. "You go that way."
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</p>
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<p>
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Jack looked in that direction and saw a glitter in the sky.
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</p>
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<p>
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"My brother has called and been answered," Finbar said.
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</p>
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<p>
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And as Jack looked, he saw the shimmering cloud resolve itself into yet another flock of birds, so many they blocked the darkening sky. He heard a faint
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high cry in the distance.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Run, boy," Finbar said. "You have braved enough. Time to find your way. Go with our blessing and our thanks."
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</p>
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<p>
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Corriwen had her hand on Jack's shoulder.
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</p>
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<p>
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"I must stay," she said.
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</p>
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<p>
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He touched her on the head, as if to give her a special blessing.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Corriwen Redthorn," Finbar said. "You have done your duty. Now pick up your feet, and run. Run like the wind. What Jack Flint carries is far too important
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to be lost again. He needs you still. We feel her stir. The sands are running fast."
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</p>
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<p>
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"I'm with Finbar," Kerry said. "This place is getting too rough for my liking."
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</p>
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<p>
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Finbar turned to Declan who still leant against his horse, holding the pommel to stay upright.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Guard their backs," the Bard said. Declan nodded. He climbed into the saddle, pulled the other horses round and they all mounted quickly. Finbar slapped
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the horse's rump.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Now get gone. We'll hold them."
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</p>
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<p>
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Jack turned the horse, with the leprechaun on its neck, and they left the five Bards together on the hillock. As they spurred the mounts down the slope,
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the white cloud of birds flew over their heads. Jack saw the wide wings of seabirds and recognised them from his walks on the cliffs with the Major. That
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seemed like a hundred years ago now, but he could tell gannets when he saw them.
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</p>
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<p>
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But he had never seen so many of them all together.
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</p>
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<p>
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The tall bard kept up his low chant, staff outstretched, and the gannets came slashing down from the black sky, spear beaks outthrust, wings pulled back
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and launched themselves like living arrows into the heart of the Scree hordes.
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</p>
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<p>
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All Jack could hear as the horses galloped west, were the screams of the grey swarm as they died under that murderous attack.
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</p>
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</div>
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