Boddaert's Magic
Fire Rock
Peter Barns
Copyright 2011 Peter Barns
This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events portrayed are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
to Sheree
-for her help and inspiration-
Carol, Colin, Donna, Eric
-because there's a little bit of each inside-
and Simone
-for the endless cups of coffee-
Chapter 1
Brock stumbled to a halt beneath the full moon, staring at the view. His breath faltered and his heart raced, but whether from the exertion of his hard climb through the Brockenhurst Mountains, or the result of the scene spread out in the valley below, he was not sure. Brockenhurst Forest at last; the place of magical promises, and source of all knowledge and wisdom. And nestled within its protective environment, Brockenhurst Sett; birthplace of Boddaert, the greatest Teller of all time and Father of the race.
As Brock's eyes ranged across the forest below, his excitement mounted and he sang a sonnet to calm himself. Letting the tensions flow from his body, his heart slowed, keeping pace with the simple rhythms of the song. His thoughts turned to the teachings of The Way and he allowed its perfection to refresh his tired muscles.
Brock was the latest in a line of Tellers that stretched back into the mists of time, his lineage boasting such names as Evaert and Char, both still talked about on hot summer-cycles, when the crickets sang their songs of lust. He studied the rocky mountain slope for the easiest descent into the valley. To the north, a tall escarpment brought the steady march of the trees to an abrupt halt, and here the only relief from the stark granite wall was a gigantic, flat-topped rock, thrusting its way up out of the canopy. Regular in shape, sides strangely smooth, with little evidence of weathering, its top as flat as a pool of water reflecting the moonlight in dazzling sparkles of brightness. Reaching into his memory, Brock summoned its name– Fire Rock. Laughing aloud, pleased that he had reached the end of his journey at last, he set out on the descent into Brockenhurst Valley.
*
The stuttering cry of a magpie carried on the gentle breeze blowing in from the south. The trek down from the mountains had been hard, at times dangerous, but Brock stood now on a wide path amongst the hoary trees of the old forest, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. A vole flicked across the damp forest floor, almost indistinguishable from the dead brown leaves, stirring Brock into motion. He had rested long enough; inactivity was allowing unpleasant memories to stir. He rubbed the wound on his leg, trying to suppress the echoes of his dying sister's screams, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the memories flooding his mind.
*
The fire had been swift and savage, burning everything in its path, the flames jumping from grass to bush, from bush to tree, too fast to outrun. And with the crackling and roaring came another unforgettable sound: the screams of the dying. The thick acrid smoke had coiled its oily tentacles into the deepest sleeping chambers, suffocating those not already overwhelmed by the flames, and only Brock's knowledge of The Way had saved him. He was the sole survivor, and that had left him with a feeling of deep shame.
Since starting out on his journey, Brock had reproached himself many times. After all, he was a Teller of The Way, the Keeper of the History; trained to predict the future and read the past, and yet the fire had come as a complete surprise to him. Standing in the moon-dappled clearing, fighting his feelings of shame, Brock tried to push his tortured thoughts aside, while overhead, two starlings watched him warily from their nest, wondering what threat he might pose.
Brock shook his head irritably, muttering, "Enough of this. I must find the Custodians."
*
Starting out along the path once more, Brock had only taken a few steps when a loud voice hailed him.
"And who is this dreamer? Certainly an ill-mannered landloper to ignore me so diligently!"
Brock turned, studying the old badger standing fore-square on the path behind him. The boar nodded a greeting, settling his plump body into a more comfortable position, causing the moonlight to sparkle from the silver hairs sprinkled liberally throughout his coat.
Lowering his snout in respect, Brock hailed the stranger. "Greetings friend. Forgive me, I was lost in my thoughts and didn't see you there. I'm looking for Brockenhurst Sett. Can you tell me if this is the right path?"
The old badger raised his head and with half-closed eyes nodded, as though reluctant to share such information.
"Indeed it is. But tell me, what business takes you there?"
Brock narrowed his eyes and the boar dipped his head.
"Ah, I see I might have offended you with my curiosity, but if you intend spending any time in Brockenhurst Sett you'll get used to that." The old badger's chest expanded proudly. "I'm a Custodian you see, so it's my duty to be nosy." Winking at Brock, his grin widened even further.
Brock's heart beat a little faster. Could it really be just a coincidence that the first badger he should meet in Brockenhurst turned out to be a Custodian?
"So, who are you stranger and where from?" The Custodian's deep set eyes glinted in the moonlight, loaning him an impish look, despite his obvious age.
"I'm Brock, out of High Green. Twenty moons hard walk beyond the Brockenhurst Mountains."
"By Homer!" The Custodian nodded his large head, obviously impressed. "Twenty moons you say?" Giving this information some thought, he moved closer, scrutinising Brock closely. "And what brings you on such an arduous journey?"
"I've come to speak to the Council. I bring important news. My sett has been destroyed, and—"
"Destroyed!" interrupted the Custodian, the shock of Brock's words reflected in his face. "But how?"
"There was a dreadful fire." Brock answered, lowering his gaze as he continued in subdued tones. "A fire so swift and fierce that none but myself survived it."
There could be no mistaking the bitterness clouding the young badger's eyes and the old Custodian fidgeted uncomfortably.
*
Yet again Brock's mind flooded with images of that dreadful time and he was back in the sett digging furiously into the packed earthen floor of his sleeping chamber, struggling to bury himself deeply enough so that the heat of the fire wouldn't harm him. While he dug Brock thought furiously, planning the size and shape of his bolt hole, and then, using the power of The Way, he slowed his breathing, a technique taught to neophyte Tellers during their training. It enabled him to survive with little air.
Brock had blanked out the shrieks of his dying friends, concentrating all his energy on surviving, closing his eyes, hoping the flames wouldn't find him.
Buried safely in his hiding place, Brock had survived the intense heat as the fire passed harmlessly overhead.
Much later, after digging himself out, he emerged to a scene of complete devastation and had spent what was left of that moon wandering through the blackened tunnels, calling in vain, because there had been no response.
Brock was the only survivor.
*
Brock suddenly realised that the Custodian had spoken to him.
"Sorry, what was that? What did you say?"
"My name is Grey," the old badger repeated patiently, favouring Brock with a quizzical look. "Are you alright? You seem—"
He left the question hanging.
"I'm tired and I hurt my leg in the fire." Brock answered with a shrug. "But tell me, is this the path to Brockenhurst Sett? I must see the Council at once."
Grey nodded slowly, looking along the path. "Yes friend, this is the path, but there's no point in rushing. If you want to see the Council, you'll need to seek permissio
n first."
Brock sighed impatiently, touching the wound on his leg. "But there's no time," he complained. "When the fire destroyed High Green, I used the powers of The Way to escape." He paused, looking uncomfortable for a moment. "You see, during the fire I had a vision."
The Custodian's nose twitched and his eyes widened slightly.
"Then you're a Teller of The Way?" the old badger queried.
Brock nodded, his eyes glazing as he stared across the wide path into the trees.
"Yes, but that's not the point," he answered, swaying back and forth, as though he was having trouble standing. "What I saw in the vision—"
Brock stopped, not sure how best to continue. He tried again. "It's . . . you see—"
He faltered once more, his eyes rolling in their sockets, and then suddenly collapsed onto the forest floor.
Grey looked startled. "By Homer, badger!" he exclaimed, bending over Brock's prostrate figure and shaking him. "Come on," he said, "let's get you back to the sett, we've a Healer there who'll know what to do with you."
Grey helped Brock to his feet and they staggered along in silence through the moon-washed trees, the older supporting the younger, their progress a series of disjointed stumbles. Grey quickly realised that he did not have the strength to drag the young badger all the way back to Brockenhurst Sett by himself, so he gently lowered the half-conscious boar onto the dark soil, looking down at him, concern puckering his snout.
Brock's eyes unexpectedly opened in a wild stare. "Run Dana, run!" he shouted. "There's smoke in the tunnels."
With wildly jerking feet, Brock let out a long, woeful groan, and then passed out again.
Grey stood for a few moments, wondering what to do, then came to a decision. Gathering a mound of leaves, he carefully covered Brock, making sure that the young badger's mouth was free to breathe the cool air.
Standing back, the old Custodian nodded. It was the best he could do. Turning back to the path, he headed off in the direction of Brockenhurst Sett.
If anyone could help this unfortunate badger it was the Healer, Soffen.
*
Deep beneath Fire Rock, in chambers known only to himself, a deformed and twisted old badger sighed deeply. At last The Messenger had come. Now his plans could progress. Then, as the boar reached out with his mind to lightly touch the stranger's thoughts, he froze for a moment, uncertainty sending a shiver through his body. But no, shaking his head, the old badger's twisted features broke into a smile. He was secure in his own power. No badger could threaten him, not while he had the power of the Dark Healing to help him.
Chapter 2
Soffen glanced up at the sky, wrinkling her snout at the glow on the horizon. The sun was rising, they would need to stop collecting herbs and get back to the sett. She smiled affectionately, watching Raffen sniff at a plant, giggling when the pollen caused her friend to sneeze.
"Is this Baneberry, Soffen?" Raffen asked, shaking her head to dislodge the pollen from the end of her snout.
"No Raffen, that's Ground Elder. Look, there's some Baneberry over there, by that rotting stump."
They had been collecting herbs for most of the moon: Hemlock, Wormwood, Hyssop, and the many other plants Soffen needed to restock her dwindling herbaria. Raffen brought the Baneberry across, studying Soffen, noting how the growing light reflected from the guard hairs in her tail. Soffen's coat and eyes were much lighter than other badgers, which was rare, evoking memories of cubhood tales.
Soffen looked back over her shoulder at Raffen, a feeling of warmth suffusing her body. She felt lucky to have such a loyal friend. Most of the other badgers tended to avoid her, pretending to be busy when she appeared. Soffen knew it was because they were frightened and distrustful of her powers, but that made little difference to the pain and rejection she felt. They seemed to think that because she was a Healer, she had no feelings. But she did of course, and their reactions hurt her deeply.
Soffen realised better than most, that this distrust was fostered by the Council, but she could do little to change it. When her father had trained her in the secrets of The Healing, he had not explained how lonely her life would be– how her peers would shun her, how even the older badgers would mistrust her. Had he made it plain just what she would have to endure at the start of her training, she might well have chosen a different path.
Soffen sighed, trying to shake off the feeling of foreboding that suddenly overshadowed her spirit. Being a Healer had its compensations of course, she could hardly deny that, but having close companions was certainly not one of them.
She smiled at Raffen again, a tightness closing her throat. Apart from this one sow, the only other badgers that she had contact with were those seeking help for some illness or injury, and they quickly disappeared once she had treated them.
"Soffen?" Raffen's voice was thick with concern. "You seem so serious. Is something wrong?"
"Sorry, did you say something?" Soffen, still distracted by her inner turmoil, had missed her friend's words entirely. Raffen repeated the question and Soffen shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "Oh it's nothing really. I was just thinking, that's all."
"But you looked so preoccupied and sad. Are you worried about leaving your cubs on their own? Is that it?"
Soffen inhaled sharply, her heart fluttering. Raffen knew about the cubs! But how was that possible? No badger knew.
A tingling sensation ran along the length of her spine. "How do you know about my cubs, Raffen? I've told no one."
Raffen tossed her head. "I know that, silly." She smiled mischievously. "You didn't have to tell me. It's been so obvious. I've got eyes you know. I'm not stupid. Did you really think you could hide being in-cub from me? I spotted it ages ago, before you moved out of the main sett. And look at you now, so slim, so sleek, your coat and eyes all shiny." Making a mock-serious face, Raffen wrinkled her snout, smiling broadly. "You may be a Healer, Soffen but I really do wonder about you sometimes." Placing a gentle paw on her friend's flank, she giggled. "You've been the talk of the sett for ages."
Soffen turned away, scrutinising a distant point high in the trees, a sad, almost lost expression clouding her eyes. Raffen moved closer, rustling the leaves beneath her paws, her playful mood dispersing.
"I'm sorry Soffen, I didn't mean to upset you. Come on, tell me what's troubling you."
Soffen turned back, a half-smile on her lips, torn between wanting to share her secret and the realisation that doing so may place her cubs in mortal danger. Struggling with her conflict, Soffen stared down at the ground.
Because she was a Healer, Soffen knew better than most how the collective mores of the sett far outweighed any individual rights, but that did not change the turmoil in her mind.
Seeing the strain on her friend's face, Raffen nuzzled the soft fur just behind her ear– a gesture of friendship and comfort that all badgers recognised from cubhood. "Whatever it is, you can tell me Soffen, I'm your friend. I love you, nothing can change that."
Soffen stared deeply into her friend's eyes, suddenly overpowered by the need to share, to lighten the burden she was carrying. She came to a decision.
"You must promise me that you won't repeat this to any other badger Raffen."
"Well if it means that much to you, of course I won't. I promise not to say anything to any badger."
"Even the Custodians?" Soffen stared hard at her friend, then abruptly turned away, her words carrying an inflection that was half anger, half regret. "No, it's not fair of me to ask that. I'm sorry, just forget what I've said."
Raffen wrinkled her snout, smiling as she tried to coax Soffen back into a better mood. "Oh tush to the Custodians and their silly ways," she giggled mischievously. "Just tell me. I won't repeat anything you say to those fools."
Relieved by her friend's words, Soffen responded with a smile. "Really Raffen, you shouldn't talk that way about the Custodians. If they overheard you—"
Raffen laughed loudly, shrugging expansively. "Well, what good
are they anyway, sitting up there full of their own self-importance. A fine bunch they make, debating what tunnel should go to which badger. Just who do they think they are, that's what I'd like to know? I mean, what use are they if you cut your paw, or need help cubbing? None, that's what. All right when giving orders, but ask them to do anything else." Raffen tutted and winked. "Now you– well badgers come from far and wide to be healed by you, don't they? You're worth more than any ten Custodians put together. Oh, I feel so angry about the way they treat you sometimes."
"They're just a little frightened of The Healing," Soffen replied through a grin. But her next words were tinged with bitterness. "You know, sometimes I really do think they see me as a threat and wish I wasn't here."
"Well if that's true, then they're more stupid than I thought!" Raffen retorted. "What possible threat could you be to anyone? And who would heal us all if you weren't here? Why, we'd be in the most terrible trouble, wouldn't we?"
Soffen lowered her gaze, not wanting her friend to read her expression. She knew that Raffen, like most badgers in Brockenhurst Sett, failed to see the significance of the Council in the hierarchy of things.
Soffen patted the ground. "Come and sit next to me. I've got something I want to tell you."
Raffen was troubled by her friend's serious tone. Usually she could dispel the moods Soffen fell into but this seemed different. Clearing a space amongst the dead leaves, Raffen settled down next to Soffen, looking at her expectantly.
Soffen poked at an old half-buried pine cone, searching for the right place to begin. "It's true," she acknowledged, picking up the cone in her claws before tossing it at nothing in particular, "that I did whelp some time ago. Two cubs in fact." Another cone followed the first. "I've dug a temporary burrow for myself in Low Meadow, by the edge of the big mud pit. That's where my cubs are now."
"But it's so cold and wet in Low Meadow." Raffen shivered. "Why didn't you stay in your nice warm sleeping chambers in the main sett?"
Soffen shook her head. "No I couldn't do that Raffen. You see . . . well I just couldn't." Taking a deep breath, she stared earnestly at her friend. "I—"