Fire Bringer Read Online Free PDF Page A

ignoring the traditional greeting. ’Drail is growing impatient—’
    ‘Captain Brechin to you,’ Brechin bellowed. He had halted and already his front haunches were set forward. The three other stags stopped behind Narl and as Brechin pointed his brow tines and stamped, they edged in behind their leader.
    ‘Forgive me, Captain Brechin,’ said Narl sarcastically, but clearly intimidated by the huge antlers, ‘I forgot how keen the Outriders are on their titles. But if you’d be so good as to join us, Lord Drail has something to tell you.’
    Under any other circumstance Brechin would have charged Narl. But now he was keen to know what was happening at the meeting place. He had delayed too long.
    ‘Surely you mean Lord Sgorr?’ said Brechin contemptuously, and he pushed straight through the four deer. ‘Well then, what are you waiting for?’
    Brechin surged on across the heather as the four Draila brought up the rear.
    Blindweed was deeply troubled when Brechin left him to go to the meeting place. For two seasons no he had watched the plots of the Draila with mounting disgust. He hated what Sgorr was doing to the herd and though he understood little of politics, he knew that it would bring nothing but harm. Sgorr had even tried to ban the old stories, though too many Corps members had opposed it. But tonight there was something else. He couldn’t quite scent it out but Blindweed had spent too long immersed in the legends of the Herla not to carry something of their magic and not to trust his instincts. Tonight his scars ached and the pain in his left foot had returned. He knew in his bones that something was happening.
    He was pondering these things as he walked slowly towards the bottom of the home valley when suddenly he saw a group of thirty Draila moving rapidly up to the meeting place. They were packed tightly and running along a slight gully, out of moonlight, as though trying to avoid being seen. He stopped dead in his tracks but as soon as he did so he realized he was upwind of them. Two Draila nosed him immediately, broke from the group and raced towards him.
    ‘Hey, you!’ shouted one as they neared the storyteller. ‘What are you doing lurking so close to the Home Oak?’
    ‘Nothing, Captain,’ said Blindweed. ’I was just telling some stories to the fawns. They like to sit out on the hillside.’
    ‘Why, it’s only old Blindweed,’ said one of the others. ‘We don’t have to worry about him.’
    ‘Worry about me?’ said Blindweed. ’Why, Captain, is there trouble in the herd?’
    ‘Never you mind,’ said the captain. He looked a little guiltily at his companion and then added in a softer voice, ‘The Outriders have nosed fox. You’d better get back to the home valley.’
    ‘Certainly, Captain. Thank you for your concern.’
    The stags raced off again and Blindweed continued on his way, a good deal more troubled than before. In the meadow at the bottom of the valley the herd seemed quiet enough, though Blindweed noticed other Draila moving about amongst the hinds. Every now and then they would stop to talk to them and seemed to be trying to reassure them. Then they would move off to their captains and report. There was much nodding of antlers. Blindweed pretended to graze and as he did so he swayed closer and closer to three stags who were standing by a small thicket. He managed to edge to the far side of the thicket, just out of sight but near enough to overhear their conversation.
    ‘When is it to be?’ one was saying in a voice that shook with emotion.
    ‘Soon, Brach, very soon,’ whispered another. ‘You must be patient. Everything is set.’
    ‘It’s this damned waiting I can’t stand,’ said the first.
    ‘Silence,’ said a third voice, older than the other two. ‘We need you to be calm when it comes. It’s your job to reassure the hinds.’
    ‘Yes,’ agreed the first, ‘and it won’t be easy. What if they bolt?’
    ‘They won’t leave the fawns,’ said the