THE BLACKBERRY WITCH: chapter 5

Link to chapter 4

V. The First Companion

Thomas stared at the mouse. The mouse stared back.

Thomas blinked, first because he could hardly believe his eyes, and then again because dirt and the sweat of fear had run into them. He wiped his face, wincing as his fingers brushed against thorn-scratches on his forehead, and then blinked a third time at the mouse in the mask.

The mouse cocked its head to the side, regarding Thomas with strangely intelligent brown eyes, and then hopped from its perch on a hanging bramble and landed, lithely, upon Thomas’s knee. It moved on all fours, like a normal mouse, but then stood on its hind legs like a man. When it reached Thomas’s knee, the mouse extended a paw toward him as if to help him stand.

Thomas looked from the eyes to the paw and then back. After a moment, then mouse glanced at its own paw, then laughed—a sound between a chirp and a squeak, but definitely a laugh—and waved the paw at Thomas.

“Silly of me to offer, I suppose,” said the mouse. Its voice sounded masculine: a rather pleasant tenor, in fact. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Thomas frowned, then obeyed the mouse’s suggestion, shifting a little so that he was propped up on one arm and well clear of the sharp rock that had been poking him in the back. He watched in amazement as the small mouse balanced himself on Thomas’s knee, then scampered from knee to bramble-vine to Thomas’s forearm and then up to his shoulder. The mouse peered out through the hole in the briars. Thomas looked out alongside him.

“I don’t see anything,” said the mouse, craning his neck for a better position. “Do you?”

Thomas cleared his dry throat. “No. But—I can hear it. I think it’s still close.”

The mouse nodded. Outside, something continued to rustle through the bushes, and now and then they heard a soft snuffle or the thump of a heavy limb. The sounds grew fainter but didn’t vanish entirely. After a few minutes of listening, the mouse turned away from the hole, hopped from Thomas’s shoulder back to his knee, and then climbed down his trousers to the dirt floor of the den. He sat and looked up expectantly at Thomas.

Thomas shifted again, pulling his legs crosswise and holding them close with his hands. The den was smaller than he’d have liked, but it seemed dry and safe enough for now, so he didn’t mind sitting a bit hunched over. He looked down at the mouse.

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” the mouse said. “I am Cathán Caolán, First Captain, Mouse Knight of the Thistledown Kingdom.” He jumped up to his feet again, removed his mask, and bowed with a dramatic flourish. “Welcome to my humble camp.”

Thomas noticed with further surprise the tiny sharpened stick at the mouse’s hip and a small shield fashioned from an acorn that rested on the mouse’s back. Thomas glanced around the den and saw a miniature bow and smaller darts in the corner underneath a leaf canopy. He could hardly believe his eyes, but laughed a little and returned Cathán Caolán’s nod as best he could in his position.

“I am Thomas,” he said, “and I’m looking for a boar’s tusk.”

“Do you need the whole tusk,” said the mouse, sitting down again and setting his mask to the side, “or just some of it?”

“Just a fragment. I was hoping to find some lying on the ground.”

Cathán Caolán nodded sagely. “A fine idea. Much safer than taking one from a live boar. But since you’re here with me, I surmise you haven’t had much luck yet? Well, that’s not to worry, Thomas. I’m quite sure that’s a boar out there. We can just wait in here all cozy until the boar falls asleep, and then you can try to snatch the tusk without his noticing. I’ll find us something to eat.”

The mouse knight scampered up the side of the den and began picking blueberries the size of his head from the vines. He tossed three of the berries toward Thomas, tucked another two under his arms, and dropped back to the ground.

“Um,” said Thomas, rolling the three blueberries between his fingers, “Sir Caolán, I wonder—”

“Just Cathán,” interrupted the mouse. He chomped at the blueberry cradled between his knees. “No need for formalities or any of that. I save my titles for introductions and presentations and duels and that sort of thing. Here among friends, I’m Cathán and you’re Thomas. Easy.” He took another bite.

“Okay,” Thomas replied. “Friends, yeah. That sounds good. Um, Cathán, if you don’t mind such a rude question—I mean, well . . .” Thomas searched in vain for the right words, then just shrugged.

Cathán laughed with his whole face. His whiskers shook and his little tail curled up at the sound. “Ah, I understand, don’t worry. I’ve not had many dealings with your folk, but I take it you’ve had even fewer with mine? There’s nothing to worry about. Like I said, we’re friends here. We’ve got the time to wait; might as well become better acquainted. Friends should know a few things about one another.” He finished off his blueberry and picked up the next. “I’m famished, so how about you tell me your story first, and then I’ll tell you mine?”

“Okay,” Thomas agreed. He tossed the blueberries into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, shifted farther away from the rocks in the den that seemed to find him no matter where he moved, and began his story. He told Cathán the same story he had told Dúnanhneall, and then he added the events that transpired in Dúnanhneall’s cottage, including the old man’s strange words, and then briefly summarized his fruitless journey into the wooded hills. While Thomas talked, Cathán listened, munching contemplatively on his blueberry, then resting his pointed chin on his little paws and nodding along at various points in the story.

When Thomas finished, the mouse knight clapped his paws together and stood. “Well! That is quite a story, my friend, and captivating from start to middle. Sounds to me like there’s plenty more middle to go, and I’ll wager it’s even more exciting than what’s come before. Terrible bit about your sister, of course, but like a brave and faithful brother you’re out here looking to free her, so you’ve not lost hope yet. And now, of course, you’ve run into a Mouse Knight of the Thistledown Kingdom, so there’s hope to spare! I can’t resist a noble quest such as yours, so you’ve got my assistance in stealing the bit of boar tusk you need.”

While Cathán spoke, he gestured animatedly with his little paws and paced back and forth; his tail twitched to emphasize certain words; his whiskers swayed and bounced with every nod. The mouse knight had a lovely speaking voice: dramatic and bold, like a travelling storyteller Thomas had listened to once.

“Now for my story, as we agreed,” Cathán continued. “As I believe I mentioned, I am a First Captain among the Mouse Knights. That’s a prestigious position among my people. Don’t think I’m bragging, though, Thomas; that’s not my way. I’m just telling you because you might not know it otherwise. But yes, I am a First Captain; I lead a few dozen other Mouse Knights. We’re responsible for the northeastern bits of the Thistledown Kingdom. We keep watch, keep the peace, keep notes on what goes on with animals and men and mice. Am I right to think you don’t know much about the Thistledown Kingdom either?”

Thomas shook his head. “I’ve never even heard of it, I’m sorry to say.”

Cathán waved those words away. “Nonsense. I’m pleased you’ve never heard of us. That means the Mouse Knights have done our job. It’s not that we dislike your kind, of course; but no one can deny that men are generally unfond of mice, especially when they startle us and we poke them with our sharp swords.” Cathán demonstrated with a thrust and a mighty swing of his own stick, which he then replaced in his tiny thread-belt. “So you can see that we try to keep to ourselves, you understand. It’s nothing against you. In fact, you seem rather pleasant. I’m glad to make your friendship.”

“So am I, Cathán,” Thomas replied with a smile. “You’re my first mouse friend.”

Cathán let out a happy chittering squeak, which seemed to embarrass him. He clapped his paws together again. “Well! Let me keep on with my story. The Thistledown Kingdom is a mighty collective of mouse tribes and large families. I’ll not bore you with our long and detailed history of wars and squabbles and great exoduses. Perhaps someday you can visit our Grand Library and read about the histories of the mice yourself. You’ll have to learn Mouse-speak first, of course, but that shouldn’t be a challenge for a bright young boy like you.

“In any case, the Thistledown Kingdom has a long and proud tradition and has grown into a significant force in these lands, at least among those who know about such things. Our domain stretches from the northernmost of these hills all the way to the great South River. That’s almost twenty miles south, you know, which is a terribly far distance for a mouse to travel.

“Most of our dens and fastnesses and homes are south of the human village—Mídhel, did you say?—and that’s where you’ll find the Grand Library and the Royal Seat and the Whiskered Woods where mouse-mages and scribes practice their craft. Up here in the north, we’ve only a few strongholds and then a pawful of scattered outposts like this one.”

Cathán gestured proudly at the little den. “I established this one myself, three months ago, when I was sent to patrol this area and watch out for danger. You see, as a First Captain, I’m responsible for overseeing the patrols in this region of the Thistledown Kingdom. The Mouse Knights under my command have been watching the woods and hills for three months now. We’ll be out here for another month or two at least, and then we’ll be called back to the Royal Seat of Luchamhá to take our rest for a while.”

Thomas saw Cathán’s countenance darken a bit. The mouse tapped his pointed chin with his paw. “However,” he continued, “I’ve been concerned about what we’ve found so far, to tell you the truth. You see, when I was given my orders to come out here and patrol the hills, I was also given a secret directive. I know I can trust you, especially since you don’t have any other mouse friends, so I’ll tell you what it is.

“I was instructed to keep ears and whiskers pricked for signs”—Cathán’s voice dropped to a whisper—“of the Nathaia Iór.”

“The—” Thomas caught himself and lowered his voice. “The what?”

“The Nathaia Iór,” Cathán repeated. “It’s the Mouse name for the Winged Serpent. I don’t know what you’d call it in your human tongue.”

“A dragon?” Thomas suggested.

Cathán shook his head. “Not exactly. The Nathaia Iór is much more than a dragon. It has the body of a great serpent, scaly and slick, and then the wings of an eagle, feathered and strong. It also has two separate sets of fangs in its mouth and horns growing from its head. The tales of old say it can split its tail into two to encircle its prey, and many other fearsome things besides. Count yourself lucky, Thomas, that you have never heard of the Nathaia Iór.”

Thomas gulped. “So you’re supposed to watch out for it? Here in the hills?”

“Aye,” Cathán replied, now in full voice. “At first, I thought the warning was in jest, or perhaps just the exaggerated worries of one of the advisors to the king. But I have seen some strange things in these last three months. I have heard the echo of monsters and magic in these hills. Part of me wonders if perhaps I’ve been away from home too long and I’m starting to see nightmares in the shadows. But I can’t deny that I’ve been worried for the past few weeks that something odd is stirring in the woods here. Maybe it’s the work of the witch from the blackberry patch you’ve just told me about, or maybe the Nathaia Iór really is here, or maybe”—he shuddered and his tail twitched—“maybe they’re both in cahoots and planning something really dreadful for Mídhel and the Thistledown Kingdom.”

Thomas gulped at that thought. “I guess I’m not the only one with something dangerous I’m trying to stop.”

Cathán nodded solemnly, then suddenly pulled out his sharpened stick and made a few strikes and slashes at an imaginary enemy. “Ha!” he cried out, delivering the death-blow, and then he thrust his sword into the dirt in triumph. “Do not fear, friend Thomas. We must be brave, you and I, for we are both knights in our quests. We will seek out these monsters and put an end to their dark plans.”

He plucked the sword from the dirt and looked up at Thomas. “I don’t suppose I could ask you for a favor?”

“Of course.”

“After we’ve found your fragment of boar’s tusk,” said Cathán, “perhaps you could help me look around for signs of the Nathaia Iór? I know that you’ve got three other objects to find, but by riding on your shoulder I could cover ground much more quickly. Perhaps we could take a quick jaunt around the hills before you leave, just to see if there’s any truth to the warnings?”

Thomas hesitated, though only for a moment. “I’d be glad to help you out, Cathán. You’re a true friend to me, and I already owe you a debt for saving my life.” Privately he wondered at the wisdom of such a commitment. The first of seven days was already more than halfway over; Thomas worried he wouldn’t have time to find the four objects and bring them to the witch by the appointed day. But he couldn’t refuse Cathán’s request, not when the Mouse Knight had so willingly offered his help in retrieving the tusk from the boar.

Cathán waved his paws in a now-familiar gesture. “Nonsense. A Mouse Knight such as myself will gladly save the life of a friend without expecting compensation. That’s what true friends do, after all. But I thank you all the more, Thomas, for your gallantry. You do your people honor with your actions. You’ll help me with the Nathaia Iór, then?”

Thomas nodded.

Cathán scampered around in a little circle on all four paws, then straightened again. Thomas almost thought he could see the mouse blush.

“Excellent news!” the Mouse Knight said, and his voice was a little deeper than normal. “You have my endless thanks, Thomas. But first, before any of that, we must focus on getting that bit of tusk!” Cathán looked around the den. “We’ve got a while to wait yet. I can still hear that boar trampling about. Unfortunately, this place is not the best for both of us to wait in. You’re quite a bit bigger than I am, you know.”

“Sorry about that.”

Cathán smiled. “You’ve a good sense about you, Thomas. I’m glad we’re friends. Now, I think I know a place nearby we could go, an abandoned rabbit-warren that’s a fair size bigger than this place. But I’m worried that the boar will catch our scent if we move from here to there. That would force a fight I’m not sure we’d win.”

He scratched his whiskers. “Well, there’s nothing for it for now. I suppose we’ll just have to stay here until we’re sure the boar won’t spot us moving about. At the very least, Thomas, you should stretch out and have a bit of rest. I’ll keep watch and wake you if anything happens or if the boar is far enough away that we can move to the rabbit-warren. How does that sound?”

“Are you sure?” asked Thomas.

“Absolutely sure, my friend.” Cathán took another few practice swings, then picked up his mask and placed it back over his face. “I’ve plenty of energy left after those blueberries. You get some rest, a quick nap at least. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

“Thanks,” said Thomas, suddenly feeling tired after the long day of walking and the cramped quarters. He lay on his side, wedged his shoulder against the curve of the den, stretched out his legs nearly their full length, and laid his head on his satchel. For a few minutes he watched Cathán, who stood atop a bramble-vine near the hole, his nose sniffing the cool air streaming into the den, his whiskers and tail twitching.

And then, gradually, gently, Thomas drifted off.