Fire Rock

  Then something touched Darkburst's snout, an irritation that made his skin pucker. Opening his eyes, he saw that the water about his head was filled with thousands of iridescent bubbles, each jostling the other as they crowded in upon him.

  Darkburst gazed at them in awe. Was this the Prime Mover come to collect him, he wondered. Was this the final state?

  Urgent legs scurried back and forth across Darkburst's snout as the spiders wove their webs, building a net of shimmering fibres around his mouth and nose. Then darting forward, each tiny creature unloaded its precious bubble of oxygen into the fine structure, the water frothing as their small bodies flitted hither and thither, diving this way and that.

  Time and again the tireless arachnids returned to the surface, where they recharged the fine hairs on their abdomens before plunging down again with their fragile loads.

  Then finally their work was completed and they departed as silently as they had come.

  As the air entered his mouth, Darkburst's instinct took over and he gasped a deep shuddering breath, filling his lungs. Adrenaline pumped through his body, stirring his tired muscles into action.

  Wiping the remnants of the web from his mouth, the young cub struck out for the patch of light beckoning from the far end of the tunnel.

  Darkburst finally broke free of the water, greedily sucking in air, coughing repeatedly as he purged droplets of water from his lungs. Weak though he was, he managed to pull himself from the water before collapsing onto the cold floor and passing out.

  *

  Darkburst had no idea how long he'd lain unmoving and half-conscious on the dank surface, but when he finally found the strength to stagger out of the tunnel, he saw that the sun was high in the sky.

  Standing on the bank, he shouted across the river repeatedly but there was no reply, just the urgent call of a bullfrog hidden in some nearby rushes. Darkburst continued calling, over and over again, until his voice croaked with hoarseness and he was forced to admit that the others had gone on without him.

  They had left him behind!

  Hunting up some food, the young badger sat eating, his body slumped in dejection. As he tore at the flesh of the scrawny squab he'd found under a nearby tree, he brooded on his misfortune.

  Why had they left him behind? He could think of no reason. Unless—

  Darkburst stood up, the fur down his spine standing erect.

  —unless Brock had persuaded his mother to leave him behind so that he wasn't there to protect her.

  Brock would kill his mother now. There was no badger there that could stop him!

  Darkburst's mind raced at the thoughts suddenly cascading through it.

  Was this what Grindel had warned him about?

  Shaking his head, Darkburst swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, searching for an answer in the low, oppressive clouds.

  He had to find his mother, quickly.

  *

  Brock carefully swallowed the last of the field mouse he was eating, his first meal in quite some time. Tossing a bone aside, he stretched languidly and stood up. Then after cleaning his claws on a nearby tree, he decided to go and check on Soffen.

  Quietly entering the temporary burrow, Brock leant over Soffen's still form, a fullness tightening his chest. She was still unconscious but looking a little better. He nuzzled her neck, murmuring soft words of encouragement.

  "Have strength my love. I'm here."

  Grooming her soft undercoat, he stroked her, as though handling a small cub.

  "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough when you needed me," he whispered, voice cracking a little, "but I didn't understand. I didn't realise how much you blamed yourself for what's happened."

  For two moons Brock had kept a lonely vigil over Soffen, trickling water from his mouth into hers when she grew hot, piling dry leaves over her when she shivered. For two suns he'd lain by her side, not knowing whether she would live or die, cursing his impotence as she slipped ever deeper into a place he could not follow.

  But now his heart felt lighter because Soffen was showing signs of recovery; her gums no longer so pale, her breathing no longer so laboured. Brock settled beside her, his paw resting lightly against her flank, his thoughts turning idly to the events of the past few moons.

  Broshee had gone off in search of the place where the stars fell to earth. She had some crazy idea that they would tell her where Boddaert's Magic lay hidden. She planned to use the magic to heal her mother and all of his arguments had failed to deter her from making the journey.

  A headstrong youngster at the best of times, Broshee had refused to listen to him, determined to follow her own destiny. But for all his arguments, part of him had been glad when she'd left because it gave him more time alone with Soffen.

  As the sun prepared to welcome the moon, Brock half dozed, allowing disjointed memories to flow through his mind– a fire raging out of control, a long hard walk, his meeting with Grey, his first sight of Soffen, all jumbled together in a collage of colourful recollections.

  Brock knew he'd made a lot of mistakes, it was all so obvious now. His responsibility for the deaths of his family and friends, for Grey and Darkburst– all these thoughts lay heavy on his mind. He'd have done better dying in the fire with the others, but instead he'd survived, survived long enough to persuade Soffen to come on this fruitless search. And worst of all, he'd only done it to assuage his own feelings of culpability.

  Laying his chin between his paws, Brock closed his eyes, coughing heavily, trying to loosen the tightness in his chest. A listlessness crept over him, making everything seem like too much trouble. Snuggling closer to Soffen's soft warmth, he fell into a fitful sleep.

  *

  Far away, across Low Meadow, the sky grew darker and the stars brighter. Dwarfed by their magnitude, a small, frightened badger rested from her exertions, glancing about nervously, wondering what madness had brought her here.

  Staring intently at the horizon, Broshee silently studied the stars, their brilliance reflecting in her eyes. She was much closer to them now and could clearly hear the strange noises they made calling back and forth to each other.

  Her gaze swept the trees standing in stark contrast against the sky, like slender sentries marching across the land. Broshee shuddered. It was so cold and foreboding here, so different from anything she knew. The moonlight cast deep shadows and as she hurried along her mind turned to thoughts of her father.

  Broshee had asked her mother about him many times, but Soffen always changed the subject, and in time Broshee had stopped asking. However this didn't stop the young sow from wondering.

  Broshee knew that her father would be a special badger, an extraordinary badger, because no ordinary badger would have mated with a Healer. He'd have exceptional insight, be sensitive and strong– with a strength that nurtured rather than overpowered. Perhaps he was a Teller of The Way, like Brock, or even a Healer from another sett. Broshee smiled as Brock's image entered her mind. She liked him, he was kind and patient, just as her father would be.

  Still trying to piece together the enigma of her origins, Broshee continued picking her way across the desolate countryside, scrambling over the smaller rocks and skirting the larger ones.

  Sometime later, Broshee's thoughts turned to her brother and a quiet sadness filled her heart. Darkburst may have been moody and shy but she'd loved him all the same. The thought of her brother's one close friendship, with the Preceptor, Grindel, caused Broshee to shiver.

  That badger frightened her so much. Even his name sounded harsh and unfriendly.

  Broshee began whispering it as she walked along, in a kind of chant. "Grindel . . . Grindel . . . Grindel . . ."

  Finally she pushed the name aside and let her thoughts wander back to her father, smiling softly at the face that hovered in her mind's-eye. It would be a proud face, with bold black stripes down each cheek.

  The distant echo of a dog's howl abruptly shattered Broshee's reflections and she froze for a moment, her ha
ckles rising. She'd never actually seen a dog but like most young badgers, she'd been warned about their legendary ferocity and hunting skills.

  How often had she heard that familiar threat: "If you don't go to sleep right now, I'll let the dogs come and get you."

  Broshee scented the air, her skin tingling as the dog howled again, ending in a series of sharp barks and a deep growl. It sounded a lot closer now and she hurriedly searched for somewhere to hide.

  Pushing her way between two large rocks, Broshee began digging frantically at the hard ground, ignoring her bleeding pads as she clawed her way deeper into the stony soil.

  Muted at first, but growing steadily louder, the soft clicking of claws on stone announced the dog's arrival. It passed close to Broshee's hiding place and she pushed herself backwards into the hole, holding her breath, willing the dog to go away. It stopped to sniff at the ground, growling deep within its throat, a harsh, rumbling sound echoing the depths of Broshee's fear.

  The dog scented her, moving closer, sniffing between the rocks, barking excitedly when it realised how near its quarry was. Then digging in earnest, the animal cascaded earth and stones down on top of her. The nearer the dog got to her, the more frantic it became, its digging interposed by high, tight yaps.

  There was nothing the terrified sow could do, except bury her head in her flank and make herself as small as possible.

  Broshee whimpered softly, convinced she was about to die a slow and agonising death.

  Chapter 14

  Brock woke with a sore throat, a hacking cough, and a terrible pain raging in his head. Staggering to his feet, he swayed from side to side. His sleep had done little to refresh him, in fact he felt much worse.

  He checked on Soffen, grunting his approval when he saw that she was breathing much easier. Staggering his way out into the balmy air, he watched as an owl, out searching for food, swooped low over a nearby tussock, reminding him that he hadn't eaten.

  Scrabbling about at the base of a bush, Brock was eventually rewarded with a plump worm, but no sooner had he put it in his mouth than he was violently sick. A fit of coughing ensued and he nearly choked on the thick yellow mucus filling his throat. Spitting the lump of phlegm onto the floor and turning away, he missed the thin line of blood lacing its way through the spittle that was now oozing its way into the cool soil.

  Looking about in confusion, Brock tried to order his thoughts. There was something nagging away at the back of his mind, something he had to do. Shaking his head he struggled to remember what it was but seemed incapable of coherent thought.

  Wandering in aimless circles, his brain on fire, Brock felt his head droop. Finally, coughing violently, he lay down, his body shuddering as the air whistled in and out of his mouth.

  As he lay on the ground, fighting for breath, Brock's rising temperature tipped him into a world of confusing thoughts and half-remembered regrets.

  *

  When he spotted the fallen tree laying across the river, Darkburst's spirits rose. Nearby was a large patch of trampled grass on the bank and as he scented the ground, the short whiskers on his snout quivered in excitement.

  Yes, they had come this way, and judging by the pungency of the odour, not too long ago. Setting out once more, Darkburst followed the trail, calling their names in the hope that they might hear him.

  As he wove his way in and out of the bulrushes edging the riverbank, Darkburst's mind returned to the spiders that had saved his life in the tunnel. He worried away at the enigma until he finally came to the conclusion that the strange event must be somehow linked to Grindel. He could think of no other explanation.

  That thought brought to mind the Talisman nestled deep within the fur around his neck, and as he stopped to stare out across the turbulent river, he touched it lightly, his mind as chaotic as the raging water.

  *

  Brock groaned, opening his sticky eyes, running his tongue over the foul taste filling his mouth. Then wrinkling his snout, he squeezed his eyes tight shut again, trying to clear his head. Something had woken him. Someone had been calling his name. He heard it again, faint and far away.

  "Brock, mother, where are you? Can you hear me? Are you there?"

  Brock's eyes opened again and he managed a half-smile. It was Broshee come back. Everything would be alright now.

  "Can you hear me? Where are you?"

  The voice faded in and out as it was carried about on the wind.

  Brock tried to drag himself out of the shallow depression he was laying in. "I'm here. Over here," he croaked.

  "Can you hear—?"

  As the wind changed direction, the voice rose in volume then faded again.

  Brock groaned a curse, swallowing painfully. He was confused. It sounded like Darkburst, but Darkburst was dead!

  Finally, the voice faded away altogether and Brock became convinced that he'd dreamt it. Settling down once more, he coughed weakly and collapsed back into a fitful sleep.

  *

  Darkburst stood quite still, listening, but other than the echoes of his own shouts, he could hear nothing. Dipping his snout to the ground and the faint scent he'd been following, the young badger set off again at a fast trot.

  A short time later the tracks freshened and Darkburst's hopes rose, his heart beating faster at the thought of joining the others. He'd not realised just how frightened and alone he felt.

  As he hurried along Darkburst fretted about his mother and the danger she was in. Grindel's warning about Brock hung heavy on his mind, because without the Talisman to protect her, Darkburst knew that his mother was in terrible danger.

  Stepping up his pace even more, the young badger thrust his way through the undergrowth at a half-run, all senses directed on the scent trail he was following.

  Sometime later, Darkburst rounded a large rock, unaware that a creature watched his passing from the cover of a thick shrub, its bared teeth glistening in the fading light.

  The dog let the young badger pass its hiding place, then set out after him, its large, well padded paws making little noise on the crushed grass.

  So single-minded was Darkburst in following the spoor, that he missed the tell-tale odour drifting on the wind. It was the low half-growl that first warned him of the danger lurking behind.

  Turning quickly, one fore-paw half-raised, hardly able to breathe, Darkburst took in the terrifying sight facing him.

  The dog, head and neck extended low over the patchy grass, top lip curled back over its long sharp canines, studied him intently. Saliva tracked from the corner of the creature's mouth and every muscle in its body quivered with tension. As he backed away from the fearsome sight, Darkburst noticed a long bloody rip extending from the dog's eye down the length of its snout.

  The dog followed Darkburst step for step, the soft rumbling in its throat building into a menacing snarl.

  Darkburst sensed the rock behind him far too late, and the dog's swift advance trapped him against its unyielding surface. The young badger glanced about desperately, searching for some means of escape. The dog glared at him, its yellow-tinged eyes, ablaze with hatred, bored into Darkburst's. Tearing his gaze from the dog's terrifying stare, he looked to one side, seeking some avenue of retreat.

  As he glanced away from the dog, it took its chance and moved in for the kill.

  In a frantic attempt at flight, Darkburst threw himself between the dog's legs, heaving upwards. Thrown off balance, the creature yelped in surprise, staggering to one side.

  Seizing this slim chance Darkburst slipped around the rock, running as fast as his legs would carry him, knowing he stood little chance of outrunning the enraged animal.

  Crashing through the bulrushes, Darkburst pushed himself as hard as he could, his feet sucking noisily in the mud of the bank with cloying squelches. Behind him the heavier bodied dog gained ground.

  Too terrified to look back the young boar forced himself onwards, heart pounding so hard that he could feel the blood pumping through the large veins in his n
eck.

  Fleeing over the uneven ground, the distressed youngster gulped great mouthfuls of air, his throat afire with the effort of running, each footfall splashing mud along his flanks, weighing him down.

  Twice he stumbled, but managed to recover himself.

  The dog finally caught up with Darkburst as he scrambled his way up a sharp incline, lunging at his hindquarters and grazing his skin. The sudden lancing pain gave Darkburst an extra burst of energy and he jinked to one side, trying to throw the dog off.

  The animal followed close on his heels but slipped on a wet stone, giving Darkburst the chance he needed.

  Topping the rise, the young badger threw himself over the crest, rolling down the other side in a tangle of legs. Unable to gain his feet, he overshot the bank and dropped into the river's cold embrace with a loud splash.

  Desperately paddling his feet, Darkburst fought to keep his head above the turbulent water as the fast current bore him away. The dog, frustrated at its quarry's escape, ran to the water's edge, barking loudly in impotent fury.

  Already tired from his exertions, Darkburst was quickly overcome with fatigue and could do little more than struggle to keep his snout above the waves as he was whirled around and around by the river's fierce current.

  Four times he was dragged right under the tempestuous surface, but each time he managed to fight his way back to the open air with panicky determination.

  The water finally soaked through the outer layer of his thick fur, saturating the soft undercoat, dragging him down into the dark depths of the river, his energy all but spent.

  Deep down along the stony riverbed, a fish appeared, its glinting eyes taking in the scene above it. The fish was not frightened by the jerking limbs of the drowning creature and swam closer, allowing the tips of swirling fur to gently caress its scaly back.

  Another fish darted forward, joining the first, then another and another.

  The fish began to shoal, a few at first, then others– ten, twenty, more and more, until the whole river writhed with their iridescent bodies.

  After collecting into a thick slithering mass, the fish rose as one, propelling Darkburst upwards, buffeting him with their countless bodies, the water boiling with their urgent movements.