Fire Rock

  Grindel was convinced that the dream was a vision sent by the dead Skelda. A message telling him that the object hidden in the underground chamber was connected to Boddaert's Magic, possibly part of the magic itself.

  Yes, he thought, that would explain why he felt such power radiating from it. It must be the Fire Soul, spoken of in the Legend.

  Deciding that his best course of action would be to leave the Fire Soul undisturbed, until he could bring the other parts to the underground chamber and make Boddaert's body whole again, Grindel arranged for the chamber entrance to be blocked up. He then instructed Cherva to kill the badgers who had done the work and dispose of their bodies.

  Grindel stood now on the ramparts of the giant earthworks he'd had built, surveying his new domain with a broadening smile, already savouring the absolute power that would soon be his.

  When Darkburst finally returned with the missing elements of Boddaert's Magic, Grindel would put his final plan into action. Until then he would continue building a fighting force strong enough to destroy every sett in the outlying lands– a force to bring ever badger living in Boddaert's Realm under his subjugation.

  *

  Due to the steady influx of badgers brought in by Cherva's guards, there was hardly any room to move on top of Fire Rock when Grindel called his next meeting.

  The throng waited for the Preceptor to appear, impatiently fidgeting and murmuring in subdued voices. Flanked on all sides by the guards that had become so prevalent of late, most badgers kept their gaze lowered. They'd learnt very quickly that a challenging stare was usually met with a stinging blow or a bruising bite.

  Grindel mounted the rock platform that Cherva's minions had constructed and waited for the badgers ranked around him to quieten down. When he finally had their full attention, his powerful oratory rang out over their heads.

  "Badgers, friends, I have information you should know. News of those who stole the Sacred Roots. The low-bellied cowards who sneaked away with our oldest and most treasured artefacts."

  Grindel paused, allowing the crowd time to assimilate his words. One or two badgers began whispering excitedly but quickly settled down when a guard approached them. Grindel's next words were spoken in a softer tone, as though he empathised with their worries.

  "Now I've heard questions being asked by some of you." Nodding slowly Grindel let his gaze meander over the upturned snouts, pausing here and there, pinpointing a badger with his deep, piercing stare. "And you are right to ask such questions. But I want you to remember the reasons for your present discomfort and the hard work you are being asked to endure, the hardships you are being asked to bear, the fortitude you are being asked to show. Does any badger here doubt that I have their best interests at heart?"

  He left the question hanging in the air, and the crowd, guessing it to be rhetorical, remained silent.

  Watching the assembly carefully, Grindel picked out those badgers who might cause him trouble in the future– the hardened stares, the eyes that questioned even though the owner remained silent. Smiling down on them he continued.

  "When you were asked to spend time and effort building the earthworks around Brockenhurst Sett, it was for a reason." He nodded again with more significance, wrinkling his snout as he shared in their doubts and concerns. "Not because I wanted it of course, but because of the dangers posed by Grey and his cohorts."

  Grindel paused, raising his eyes to the sky as though pondering those very dangers. Then letting his gaze roam the crowd again, he touched his chest.

  "At great risk to myself I have discovered why the Sacred Roots were stolen in such a cowardly way. Yes my badgers I, Grindel, your Preceptor, have risked my life finding out the answer so that I could bring it to you and ask your forbearance in what must now be done."

  Grindel's next long pause was too much for the excited crowd and they pushed forward expectantly, eager to hear why they had been summoned.

  "These cowards have taken the Sacred Roots to help them search out Boddaert's Magic." Shouting above the clamour this statement caused, Grindel continued berating the crowd, eager to build on their hysteria. "And having stolen this treasure from us, what do they want to do with it? What do they intend doing when they return with Boddaert's Magic? What evil are they going to use it for?"

  Massaging the crowd's fear, Grindel glared at each badger in turn, seemingly picking them out one by one with an accusing stare, making them feel individually responsible for the theft.

  "I'll tell you what they'll do with it, my friends. They'll use it to destroy us!" Shouting even louder now above the moans of the hysterical crowd Grindel's voice boomed out, drowning even the most boisterous cries. "They'll use Boddaert's Magic to destroy Brockenhurst Sett, and that includes every badger here this moon. You and your cubs!"

  The tightly packed mass swayed back and forth as Grindel's words bit home

  "And I for one am determined that won't happen. I'm not going to stand by and do nothing while our sett, our dreams, our very lives, are ravaged!" Grindel skilfully brought the mob to fever pitch, rising to his hind legs as his voice rose another notch. "Are you with me, badgers?"

  Eyes dancing with excitement, spittle flying from his lips, Grindel continued his tirade at the top of his voice.

  "Are you strong, my brothers?

  "Yes," the boars shouted ecstatically.

  "Are you strong, my sisters?"

  "Yes," the sows screamed, a large number almost fainting with excitement.

  "Will you stand by my side and fight this evil?"

  The badgers crammed on Fire Rock that fateful moon, galvanised by Grindel's oration, erupted with one voice. Spurred on by the rising fever gripping every last one, they screamed their allegiance, no longer despondent and distrustful, fired now by a common purpose.

  Grindel threw back his head, his voice shaking with elation. "Will you fight with me, my badgers?"

  "Yes!" they roared, overwhelmed by their own emotions.

  Grindel looked down on them, his gaze piercing in its intensity.

  "I need volunteers," he cried. "Volunteers to finish building the fortifications. Volunteers to gather food for the workers and guards. Volunteers to watch the pathways. Will you volunteer, my badgers?"

  As one, the crowd surged forward, urged on by the guards at the rear. Shoving excitedly, ignoring the terrified screams of those being trampled at the front, pushing closer in their search for a saviour, urging Grindel to wash them clean, give them the strength to fight the coming evil.

  And above them stood their master. Tall, regal, smiling broadly, waiting to give the signal to Cherva.

  At the Preceptor's nod, Cherva rose to his full height, his powerful body dwarfing those around him.

  "Guards," he bawled above the melee, "bring me the traitor. The one called Fenn."

  Heads turned and the throng immediately took up the Custodian's name.

  "Fenn! Fenn! Fenn!"

  As the unfortunate badger was dragged before the mob, the shouting swiftly built to a roar. Clearing a space in front of the rock staging, the guards threw Fenn to the ground and Grindel stared down at the hapless Custodian, nodding contentedly as he studied the boar's swollen jaw.

  "Well badger, what have you to say in your defence?" he demanded. "What have you to tell us about your part in this plot to destroy Brockenhurst Sett?"

  Fenn looked about helplessly, unable to speak, scarcely able to breathe, so swollen was his snout.

  "I'm waiting badger," Grindel threatened, his voice vibrating with indignation that a Custodian should refuse to answer like this.

  The helpless Fenn just shook his head miserably, gazing at the crowd with fearful eyes, finding only enmity in his search for a friendly face.

  Grindel's voice lashed down at him again. "Do you deny you're part of this evil plot to take over Brockenhurst Sett? To enslave every badger living here? Do you deny you helped Grey steal our beloved Sacred Roots, killing two Custodians in the process?"

  This r
evelation brought a gasp of horror from the crowd and they surged nearer Fenn, threatening him with flashing claws and sharp teeth. The guards hurriedly pushed them away.

  "Well?" Grindel demanded, but Fenn could only continue staring at the crowd, unable to answer. Grindel's next words were loaded with a flat menace. "If you don't answer me badger, I shall have no option but to take your silence as an admission of your guilt."

  Fenn tried desperately to answer his tormentor but the pain proved too much and he collapsed.

  Grindel pointed down at the prone figure, a look of triumph glowing in his eyes. "Do you see, my badgers?" he crowed in delight. "Do you see the guilt? The traitor Fenn is so overwhelmed with remorse that he can't face you. He's fainted. A coward as well as a traitor." Rearing up again, Grindel solicited the crowd's approval. "What do you say my brothers? Shall he die?"

  "SHALL HE DIE?"

  "Yes!" howled the mob in unison.

  Chapter 17

  Slikit lay on his back, legs splayed awkwardly in all directions, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to recover his breath. It had been a long, hard chase, but he'd succeeded.

  He had left the temporary burrow, determined to get the ears needed by the Healer. And here lay the prize by his side.

  Slikit's poor eyesight had made catching the creature difficult but his old nose had not let him down. The mouse, though quick, had made the mistake of diving headlong for cover. Had it stayed in the open, it would have seen another moon, but even Slikit's blunt claws had no difficulty digging it from its ill-chosen hiding place.

  Moaning softly, Slikit rolled over and stood up, favouring his aching muscles. Bending over the mouse he deftly nipped the ears off. One . . . two . . . frowning at the notch he spied bitten into one.

  Slikit ate little now– his appetite had lessened in direct proportion to his age– so he left the mutilated body of the mouse for some other hungry creature to discover and made his way back to the burrow. The mouse ears, now clamped tightly between his teeth, kept the old boar from his favourite past time, but he made up for this by grumbling away to himself in his imagination.

  On the long trek back to the burrow, Slikit thought about the two badgers waiting for him– one sick with the yellow fever, the other sick with a very different illness. It was obvious that the Healer held strong feelings for her companion, and he pondered how she'd managed to accidentally eat something that so violently disagreed with her. Slikit smiled, recalling the way she'd looked at the sick boar with such obvious affection.

  Sighing heavily, he pushed such thoughts from his mind, afraid they might stir too many memories of happier times, gone now forever.

  Fussing his way back into the burrow, Slikit worked his way down into the chamber and greeted Soffen with a nod, glad to see the Healer was awake and looking much better. Unfortunately the same could not be said of her companion, who lay half-curled on his bed of leaves, breathing with difficulty.

  Slikit crossed the chamber and spat the ears onto the floor in front of Soffen.

  "Here you are, female," he said. "I had some trouble finding these for you but I managed it."

  Soffen glanced down at the two small bedraggled ears, then back up at Slikit, and for a moment did nothing more than stare at him intently. Slowly a sparkle entered her eyes and she began shaking her head from side to side, as though in denial, until unexpectedly she burst into a fit of laughter, her breath exploding from her mouth in a warm blast of air.

  Soffen struggled to speak but found it impossible, and looked at Slikit helplessly, her body shaking as though she were having a fit. All the tensions and worries she had suffered since leaving Brockenhurst Forest had built into an hysterical outburst that she could not control.

  Slikit frowned in anger. Having done as the Healer asked– having brought her the mouse ears– why was she laughing at him this way? It was so humiliating!

  Soffen finally managed to find her voice. "I'm so sorry Slikit," she gasped. "I didn't mean to offend you. But it's so f-f-funny!"

  Soffen turned away, hiding her snout in her flank, but Slikit could see that she was still giggling.

  "What are you laughing at?" he demanded.

  Pushing at the ears with a paw, Soffen answered slowly, trying to maintain her dignity. "When I said Mouse-ear I meant the plant, not real ones!"

  A heavy silence descended on the burrow and Soffen held her breath, trying to keep a serious expression, afraid she might offend the old badger even more. After all, he'd gone to a lot of trouble finding them, she reminded herself.

  But Slikit found himself joining in with the Healer's giggles and pretty soon he too was gasping for breath.

  It'd been too long since the old badger had laughed this way, such helpless, happy laughter, laughter that purified the soul and lifted the spirits.

  "You didn't mean a mouse's ears, you m-m-meant mouse ears," he spluttered. "And I chased that idiot mouse all over the place. F-f-from here to there and then b-back again!"

  It took some time before either badger could look at the other without bursting into a fit of the giggles, but at length their laughter subsided and both turned away as though embarrassed.

  Eventually, after checking on Brock, Soffen asked Slikit to help her collect the proper Mouse-ear and they set off to find some.

  Outside the moon was bright, the clouds sparse, with a light wind blowing across the low hills, bringing scents both familiar and pleasant. The laughter had cleared the air between them and both now felt easier in the other's company. They walked side-by-side lost to their innermost thoughts, savouring the mood– a mood they hoped would last.

  Since leaving his sett all those seasons ago, Slikit had spent so little time in the company of other badgers that he always felt awkward, never knowing what to say or how to behave. Now that he wanted to talk to Soffen, he was finding it extremely difficult.

  After a couple of false starts, he finally managed to ask a question. "Where are you from Soffen?"

  Soffen took so long answering that Slikit began wondering if she'd heard his question. When Soffen's answer came it was spoken so softly that Slikit had to strain to hear.

  "I'm from Brockenhurst Sett," she finally answered. "Have you heard of it?"

  Slikit nodded. "But of course, hasn't every badger?" They walked on in silence for awhile then at length Slikit tried again. "So what brings you all the way here from Brockenhurst? It's a long way to come, quite a journey, in fact."

  "We came searching for Boddaert's Magic," Soffen answered quietly.

  Slikit stumbled to a stop, staring at her. Surely he'd misheard? Had she really said that she'd come searching for Boddaert's Magic?

  Soffen stared back at the old badger with an equal intensity. "What's wrong?" she asked, wrinkling her snout.

  Slikit licked dry lips. "Did you say you came searching for Boddaert's Magic?" and when Soffen nodded yes, he hurried on, "The ancient magic?" he persisted, so taken aback that he almost breathed the words.

  Soffen nodded again. "Yes Slikit, the ancient magic. We came searching for the ancient magic."

  "But that's just a myth . . . a story!"

  Soffen smiled, suddenly looking at the old badger with surprising affection.

  "No Slikit, it's true," she assured him. "I'm a Healer, Brock's a Teller. Who better to know that the Legend is true? In here," tapping her chest lightly as she slowly frowned, "I have no doubt about that at all."

  Slikit silently walked by the Healer's side for some while, mulling over what she'd told him. At length he asked another question.

  "And the two of you came searching for this myth?"

  "Five," Soffen corrected him abruptly, "there were five of us who came searching for this truth."

  Ignoring the jibe, Slikit pushed on. "There are five of you? But where are the others? Did they go back for help?" The old badger was confused.

  Soffen did not answer Slikit's question straight away and he'd almost given up hope of her doing so, when she sudde
nly spoke, a heavy sadness tingeing her voice.

  "Two of them died."

  She paused, her eyes shut tight and her body taught. When she finally opened her eyes again, they appeared lifeless and dull.

  "Grey, a Custodian from Brockenhurst Sett, and Darkburst . . . one of my cubs." There was another long pause. "Broshee, my other cub . . . well she's disappeared. I've no idea what's happened to her."

  "Two dead?" Slikit murmured quietly.

  "Yes, both drowned." Another pause, then, "Oh my poor cub," the last word came out as a sob.

  "And your other cub . . . disappeared?"

  A large tear ran down Soffen's snout and she shook it away with a quick flick of her head. When she finally spoke again her voice was full of despair.

  "Yes. When I woke up she'd gone. Did you notice any signs of her when you found me?"

  Soffen had longed to scream the question at the old badger from the first moment she'd seen him but had been too frightened to ask.

  Deep inside she already knew the answer. Broshee was dead. The emptiness she felt in her heart told her that truth. She hadn't asked because she didn't want to know.

  Suddenly everything became too much to bear and the unhappy sow collapsed onto the grass, sobbing quietly.

  "Oh Darkburst, Broshee, what have I done, what have I done to you? Why did I drag you along on this stupid journey?"

  As Soffen cried for her cubs, for Grey and Brock, for the life now lost to her forever, Slikit stood at her side in embarrassed silence. Twice the old badger extended his paw making as if to comfort her but his paw hovered uselessly over her back, his ingrained self-consciousness holding him back.

  Finally he withdrew altogether, sitting a short distance off, studying the moon as if it was the most important thing in his life.

  Let Soffen suffer her grief in privacy he thought. That would be best.

  Soffen slowly gathered her tattered emotions and her tears eased. Then throwing Slikit a hesitant look, she half-smiled at him.

  "Come on," she said in a quiet voice, "let's go and find that Mouse-ear."

  Soffen pushed the hurt and guilt into the deepest recesses of her mind. After all, it had been such self-indulgent feelings that had brought about her attempt on her own life in the first place, and had led to Brock's grave illness.