Neither Dead Nor Alive (5 page)

We're following the old Bronze Age track. I've not been on this bit of it before, but I'm getting used to finding my way about in the old time. Before long we reach the spot where I met Finn and Aidan and I know it's not far to the dead dinosaur.

It's for real now. I'm trying to remember how I psyched myself the other day – heck, it was only yesterday – to tackle Gawawl.

I tell Fiona, “Not far now.”

“You know what to do?”

“Chase Gawawl off with the dirk.”

“About the bull, I mean.”

I stop. “I thought... “

I don't want to tell her I thought she'd worked all that out.

“How're you going to do it?” she persists.

“You've got the book,” I say. “Thought you'd know what it said to do.”

“It only said someone of Finn's clan would have to make the sacrifice. So, once you've got rid of Gawawl, you've got to kill the bull.”

She wishes! I've just got used to the idea that I could see off Gawawl with the dirk, but slaughtering a bull – I've not even thought about that.

“That's the big one,” I say, playing for time. “Gawawl I can handle.” I manage a mini-swagger. “The bull, though... how to kill a bull... Fergus only killed a goat. Now if it was just a goat... ”

I haven't a clue how to kill a goat, either.

“Or a rabbit?” she snaps.

“A rabbit.” I feel a surge of hope. “Would a rabbit do?”

“Sure you could handle a rabbit?”

She doesn't wait for an answer. “Or a mouse?” She's relentless. “Or a beetle? You could manage to squash a beetle, couldn't you?”

I don't know where she's at now.

“You idiot. It's got to be the bull. Course you don't have to do it yourself.”

Another surge of hope.

“I'm a McAlpine, too. Want me to do it for you?”

I don't believe I'm hearing this. “You know how to kill a bull?”

“No.”

“Then how... ?“

“Because it's got to be done. Think about Aidan.”

She hesitates. “Maybe when the time comes The Morrigan will make it easy for me.”

“Maybe we could let The Morrigan kill it herself.”

“You know what the Red Book says.”

So do I give the dirk to a bird who's just tripped over her own feet? Besides, what if she DOES kill it and we go back to today time and she tells Mark?

I can see the pink gum stuck to his back teeth when he laughs... ”So the bird did the business for you? Big deal.”

I've got to bluff this one out.

“OK. I'll sort Gawawl out for you first. Then I'll figure what to do about the bull.”

Hopefully we'll be back into today time before we get there or the bull will stampede or something.

All this time we're getting closer to the dead dinosaur and suddenly we're round a corner and it's there in front of us with its freshly dug earth and the big stone circle round the base.

Fiona recognises it at once. “There's the way in.” She points to the big upright stone slabs.

Then there's that horrible bellowing noise again.

She comes up close beside me.

“Ready with the dirk,” she whispers.

I draw it and we enter the tomb.

We're in a long passage with ginormous flat stones at the sides and across the roof. It's dead dark inside, but the sun's shining straight in, so we can see for a bit.

From the other end I can hear bellowing. It thunders among the stones and I'm scared they'll all collapse on top of us. Then I see another light, dim, yellow and flickering, ahead of me.

My hand's sweating on the handle of the dirk.

Fiona squeezes my elbow. “Go on,”
she whispers.

But I don't. I stop.

We're at the end of the passage. In front of me there's a long, low hall. Round the walls smoky torches are burning; bundles of twigs wedged in cracks in the wall. It's difficult to see cos the light's flickering like strobes at a disco except that it's all the same colour, and the smoke's making my eyes water.

Then the bellowing hits me like an explosion and I see the bull, a big white shape like a ghost, at the other end of the hall. It's got a rope round its neck and it's tied to a post that's stuck in the wall.

“Cut it loose,” Fiona hisses. “Get it out of here.”

It's an angry bull, as if it knows we're going to try and kill it. It's pawing the ground and snorting, but I think if I can get behind it and cut the rope it'll probably charge straight down the passage and outside.

I push Fiona back into an alcove in the wall in case she gets trampled.

I nip forwards but the bull swings round to face me, so I've got to dodge behind its horns if I'm to cut the rope.

I'm bobbing and weaving like David Haye when there's this shriek behind me:

“Steve.”

I spin round and the bull catches me in the ribs with its horn. It's only a glancing blow. Still, it knocks me on the deck. But it can't get far enough to trample me cos it's at the end of its rope.

I look up.

Gawawl's got Fiona. One hairy arm's round her shoulders, pinning her arms. She's thrashing about and kicking. I look right into her eyes and see terror.

His mouth's half open and that slavering tusk's pointing at her throat.

But he doesn't kill her.

He drags her into the alcove – it's much deeper than I'd realised. There's a torch burning at the very back of it and below it there's this huge golden bowl.

Gawawl presses Fiona against it so her neck's on the rim. But he still doesn't kill her.

From somewhere in his skin robes he pulls a knife like the one Fergus used to sacrifice the goat, and places its edge across her throat like a saw.

But still Gawawl does not kill Fiona.

He gazes up somewhere into the flickering darkness under the roof where the light of the torches can't reach and begins to chant, “The Morrigan. The Morrigan. The Morrigan.”

I'm like I'm watching a video. It's not real, except that Gawawl's minging and the stench is making my stomach jump up into my throat.

Fiona's gone all still and calm.

“Steve,” she says quietly. “The dirk. Go for him. Remember your watch strap.”

Her voice is like an explosion in my head. Suddenly I'm real again. I'm in the video. I can change it.

I rush at Gawawl with the dirk out in front of me. I can't remember any of the patter I'd rehearsed the other day. I hear myself shouting “Oh, when the Saints... St Mirren for the cup. Get into these animals.”

Just like before, with Aidan, he looks scared. He lets Fiona go, puts up a great hairy paw to hide his face, and steps back into the shadows at the back of the alcove.

She nips round behind me. She's breathing hard.

Gawawl's not done yet. He's cringing, but it seems like he can face cold iron if he looks away. So he comes back for us, roaring and shielding his face with one paw.

“Kill him,” demands Fiona.

I remember she's a vegetarian.

But I don't have any choice. He's coming at me with an open mouth and slavering tusks. I know that if I don't get him I'm finished. So I go for it; try to stick the dirk up his nose, just above that gross tooth, but he backs off so quickly that I miss him.

Next thing there's a howl from him, a swirl of skin cloaks and he disappears down a black cave at the back of the alcove.

Fiona says, “He's escaped into the bowels of the earth where we can't follow him.”

After we've got our breath back, I ask, “What about the bull?”

“Kill it.”

I hand her the dirk. “Not my scene.” I don't mind being honest about this now I've seen off Gawawl.

She puts it away with her hand. “Me, neither. I was just winding you up.”

“Just have to leave it here, then.”

“Can't do that. Gawawl will come out of the earth and get it back. We've got to get it out of here. Go and cut it loose.”

This time I'm smarter. I cut the rope before the beast can turn on me and it bolts down the passageway and out into the open.

“Now the cauldron,” she says.

Between us we drag it out. It's dead heavy.

“Now what?” I wonder.

The bull's galloped off a bit, but now it's eating grass just like any old cow.

“The Red Book definitely says that it must be sacrificed to The Morrigan,” she repeats. “But it's not just that neither of us fancies having to try to kill it. We don't know the proper rituals.”

“Rituals? What's that?”

“It's special words you have to say, or maybe things you've got to do. A bit like reciting a magic spell. If you don't get it exactly right it won't work.”

That makes me feel a whole lot better. It wasn't that I was too scared to try to kill the bull. No point in trying when it wouldn't have worked anyway. That's the way I'll explain it to Mark.

“Perhaps The Morrigan will find a way to show us,” she says
.

I laugh.

“Well, she's led us this far safely.”

Sometimes Fiona's really spooky.

We're just outside the tomb and I'm looking at the bull, wondering how The Morrigan's going to show us how to sacrifice it.

It's not very big, but it's got freaky horns and I don't fancy getting close to it again. I'm thinking
it`s quiet enough right now
when suddenly it brings its head up and snorts. It's looking round and listening. I can the whites of its eyes rolling.

Then I hear what it's hearing.

Sort of chiming, like bells, a long way off.

Only I soon realise it's not bells; it's the baying of dogs.

Then there's a crash in the bushes and Aidan bursts out of them with his bronze knife in his hand. He stares around him like a hunted deer. Then he catches sight of me and Fiona.

“The hounds.” He waves an arm despairingly.

****

Four of them break out of a thicket and then check when they see us. They're the biggest, ugliest dogs I've ever seen – black and shaggy – with slavering mouths and lolling tongues.

The three of us get our backs together and they circle us, growling and snarling, as if they are waiting for an order.

Then it comes: “Kill.”

The master catches up with them, and it's Fergus with the eye. He checks for a second. Maybe he's surprised to see three kids instead of just one. But he repeats the order: “Kill.”

“The dirk,” says Fiona quietly.

I know what iron can do, so I'm pure dead gallus. I charge at the dogs, slashing and stabbing left and right and shouting a lot of nonsense. I don't think I hit any of them but they take off in every direction, howling.

Behind me Fergus is cursing his dogs and shouting at them to turn and kill us. I'm not thinking about him, though, until I hear Fiona scream, “Steve.”

I spin round and he's coming at me. Aidan slashes at him with his knife and that slows him up just enough for me to show him the dirk.

As soon as he sees it he stops dead, just like Gawawl.

Fergus and me are face to face. Aidan comes up beside me: shoulder to shoulder, his bronze knife and my iron dirk.

For a second Fergus thinks about tackling us. Then I brandish the dirk and he turns and runs.

He doesn't get far. He trips and goes sprawling in the heather. An idea zips across my mind – jump on his back and bury the dirk between his shoulders. Only I don't.

Aidan does! He's on him like a cat, but before he has time to stick him with the blade, Fergus lets out a scream and Aidan bounces off him like he's red hot.

Fergus scrambles to his feet. He's clawing at his throat and I see there's a snake writhing round his neck. It's greenish white with a black zigzag mark down its back, and its teeth are fastened in his throat.

For a moment Fergus staggers about, waving his hands as if he's afraid to touch the thing. Then he pitches forward on to his knees. He's making like he's choking and gurgling now. Then he slumps on to his face and goes quiet.

The three of us freeze. There's a rustling in the heather and I see the black zigzag mark wriggling away.

“The Morrigan,” whispers Aidan.

“Fergus is dead.” Fiona knows cos it's all in the book. I half expect Aidan to make sure, cut Fergus's throat or something, but he won't even look at the corpse.

So here we are in the middle of the Bronze Age, a dead chief beside us, that wild bull a hundred yards away and all around the invisible presence of The Morrigan.

Fiona's the first to come to her senses.

“Aidan, do you know how to sacrifice the bull?”

He's like he's in a dream.

“My bull,” he says. “Born on the same day as I was.”

“You must sacrifice it to The Morrigan. You know that.”

He shakes his head. “The bull is my brother.”

She gets angry with him. “Your father's dead. The dogs would have killed you too. They've killed you before. Aidan, you must.”

He sticks his knife in his belt and takes her hand.

“Together we will do the will of The Morrigan.”

They're walking towards the bull. I just follow. I'm angry. Fiona said I was the one of the race of Finn who would be the megastar, but then I'm glad I don't have to. Anyway I've got the dirk, so I follow up close just in case things go wrong.

The bull sees us coming and starts bellowing and pawing the ground. Then, I swear, Aidan begins to sing to it.

“Listen summer twilight long

Hearken winter skies afire

Spring and autumn hear my song

Calling all the herds to byre.”

He turns to Fiona. “Do you know ‘the Great Herdsman of Etive`?”

She nods.

“That's his song.”

She joins in. It's like they're charming the animal. It stops snorting and stamping and comes to them like a pet pony.

Aidan scratches its forehead and ruffles its ears as if it's a dog. It nuzzles his hand. He turns to Fiona, “We need the cauldron.”

“Steve; the cauldron,” she commands.

I'd forgotten all about it, but now I've got to go back for it as if she's The Morrigan herself.

I suppose it's real gold but I'm dragging it behind me, bouncing it off stones, cos it's too heavy to carry. I'm out of breath when I get back to them. “What now?”

“Aidan says we must take the bull and the cauldron across the ford to Eriska, the Holy Island, and he'll show us how to make the sacrifice.”

Eriska. It's a long way. I've not been there but Fiona's dad says there's a posh hotel on it in today time and there's a decent road and a bridge today too. But now I've got to drag the cauldron all the way along a bumpy track while they swan along ahead with their pet bull.

“Hey, Fiona. How about taking a shot with the cauldron?”

She half turns and puts her finger to her lips, “Aidan and I are the priest and priestess.”

****

The ford's not deep. Tide's well out. The bull ploughs through with the water round its knees. It's quite sloppy underfoot, though, and I've a bit of a struggle with the cauldron till I realise I can float it across.

In the old time Eriska's a bare moor. Aidan leads the bull to the highest point. There's a big flat stone there and he tells me to put the cauldron on it. I have to wedge it with wee stones to stop it rolling off.

Then he takes his knife and makes Fiona hold it with him, her hand inside his. They're chanting together softly, “The Morrigan. The Morrigan.” The bull's licking Aidan's fingers. Suddenly he makes a quick flick and a jerk and there's blood spurting from a gash in its neck. It lifts its head and moans softly, not that terrible bellowing I heard from the dead dinosaur. More like a sort of sad sigh. Then Aidan and Fiona put in the knife and open up the wound.

The bull's on its knees now, its blood gushing into the cauldron. Aidan's in tears. “My brother,” he blubbers. The beast collapses. Aidan's got his arms round its neck and its blood's washing all over him. It gives an enormous shudder. Then it is quite still.

Overhead I hear the raw ‘kark` of a raven. For a split second, behind Aidan and Fiona, there flickers the figure of a one eyed hag. Then it's gone. Aidan must have seen it too for he's on his hands and knees, eyes wide and staring.

Fiona crouches beside him and they clasp hands. Then he doubles up like he's been kicked in the stomach. He's trying to hold on to her but, right in front of my eyes, he shrivels and slips like sand through her fingers until there's nothing left but a little pile of dust on the flat stone.

Fiona unclenches her fist. Some fine dust in the lines of her palm blows away in the wind.

The bull's gone, too, and the cauldron that was half full of hot blood is empty with just a rusty stain on the inside.

Fiona's on her knees. Her forehead's on Aidan's dust. She's screaming hysterically, “Aidan. AIDAN. AAAAAI-DAAAAN.”