Power of Three

Orban and Og rallied those who could fight and attacked the Dorig, while the rest got away with their possessions. The fight had gone very badly. Og was killed. Orban had been forced to run for it with the rest of the fighting-men, and the Dorig had pursued them. But the Dorig had not been anxious to go beyond the thorn trees along the first Giant road – Kasta, as usual, had overstated the case – and had turned back to Otmound. Orban had caught up the rest and they had come on to Garholt as fast as they could.

“And you’d better watch that they don’t try that trick with the wells here,” Orban said, passing his mug to Miri for more beer.

“They can’t,” Gest said confidently. “All our wells are protected.” He pointed to the nearest, with its rounded stone hood and the twig-shaped writing on the stonework, which was the indoor equivalent of a thorn tree.

“I hope you’re right,” Orban said glumly.

Gair looked from his uncle’s weary face to the tears running down his mother’s. In a shocked, distant way, he knew there had been a terrible disaster. War, he thought. But it did not feel like that. He could not imagine Otmound as an underground lake or think of more than one Dorig at a time. As for Og, it was a shame, but to Gair he was a fussy old grandfather whom Gair had not known very well, or to tell the truth, liked very much. He looked at Ayna and Ceri’s sober faces and saw they felt the same.

The important thing to all three was that here was Ondo back again after only two days, and the important question was when was he going?

chapter five (#ulink_fc73acc9-189d-5d9a-b6a8-c1a5321e5c82)

That night, Ondo had Gair’s bed again and he had to share with Ceri. Neither of them slept as well as they wanted. Gair woke feeling gloomy and apprehensive. He could hear the double flock of sheep bleating, the girls at the lookout posts calling to one another, and Orban snoring. That in itself would have made anyone gloomy. But Gair felt uneasy too, in a way he could not explain. He forgot that he had intended to find out whether Ceri’s Thoughts made the air cold and hung about with most of the rest of Garholt, waiting for news.

Gest had sent Banot over to Otmound in the early hours of the morning. He came back, red-eyed and fagged, soon after midday. Gair and Ceri wriggled near enough to hear what he said. It was not cheering. Banot had gone right up to Otmound to find water running out of it and the fields beyond it turning into a marsh. He could see it was still flooded.

“Then the Dorig saw me,” he said. “They came running out of the Haunted Mound – they seem to have made a camp there – and the captain – he was a long, tall one with a big opinion of himself – called out to know what I wanted.”

“You were lucky they didn’t kill you first and ask after,” Orban said. Gair was chiefly surprised that Banot and the Dorig could understand one another.

Banot winked and tapped his harp. “Dorig love music,” he said. “He waited till I’d finished playing, and then I asked what was going on. Told him I was making enquiries from Garholt. He didn’t say too much, but he told me they were going to live in Otmound in future. They want to keep it for themselves.”

“Let them try!” Orban said angrily. “What then?”

“He went away for a bit and set a guard over me,” said Banot. “I began to wonder whether I would come back. But he must have gone to ask advice, I think, because he came back and said two things. One was that they’d got their revenge for that battle the year Gest did those tasks. The other was that their King was not going to attack Gest. May I get some sleep now? I’m worn out.”

“What did he mean by that?” Orban demanded.

“He didn’t say,” said Banot, who seemed to be falling asleep where he stood.

Gest smiled and signalled to Tille to get Banot away to bed. Then, still smiling, he turned to Orban. “This is a very sad business,” he said. “But don’t think you and your people have nowhere to go. You must make your home with us for as long as you need.”

Ceri gave a small moan of dismay. Gair crossed his fingers and prayed to the Sun that Orban would refuse. There must be an empty mound somewhere where the Otmounders could live.

But Orban laughed and clapped Gest on the shoulder. “Thanks. I was hoping you’d say that, Gest. You’re such a good fellow. We’ll fight the Dorig together, then. Drive the brutes out of Otmound and then out of the Moor!”

Gair wondered how his father could smile like that. He wondered how he was going to bear having Ondo living in Garholt. He felt miserable and also indefinably uneasy, worse than he had done when he woke up that morning. He tried to explain to Adara how he felt.