Fire Rock

  Concentrating on Soffen's image, Brock drew her essence into his mind's-eye. It was a slow process but he persevered, building the icon piece by piece.

  Taking every opportunity presented to him, Brock quietly dipped into Skelda's thoughts as he crept passed them, learning how, through the use of the Dark Healing, the boar had flipped his persona into Brock's mind at the moment of his death. And how, before leaving the temporary burrow, the loathsome, twisted badger, had wrapped their feet in the fox's skin to throw Soffen and Slikit off the scent.

  Brock's body felt like a dirty receptacle to him now, filled with the purulent entrails of another badger– not his anymore, defiled as it was by Skelda's persona. The invasion of his body had been so complete and intimate that every nerve, every sinew, had been taken from him, consumed by the evil boar's carnality.

  Brock found that immersing himself in Skelda's thoughts was a nauseating chore, so cold and full of hate were they. The malevolence radiating from them left him reeling and confused, but by using the powers of The Way as a filter, he managed to continue with his task.

  As he shared Skelda's thoughts, Brock felt the badger's pleasure in their body, the new liberation that the strong, powerful muscles gave him.

  Brock continued slithering from thought to thought desperately searching for any weakness, but he found none.

  He did discover however, that Skelda had lived under Fire Rock for many seasons, using the powers of the Dark Healing to keep himself alive while he developed and improved his warped plan to conquer Boddaert's Realm.

  Brock understood at last that nothing could stop this cunning boar from completing his plans. But Brock's greatest shock came when he learnt that Skelda was not only Soffen's father, but had also sired Darkburst and Broshee as well.

  As the duality set out towards Brockenhurst Sett, Brock, forced to lay in the darkness of his prison, felt a deep despair overcome him. His mind quickly turned in upon itself and began to eat away at his spirit. The thought of having to spend the rest of his life as an observer, unable to participate in life, except through the eyes and ears of another badger, overwhelmed him. To be forced to watch helplessly as his own body was used to commit atrocities over which he would have no control, sent a shudder to the very core of his being.

  Brock was in no doubt that Skelda was the embodiment of pure evil. Surely, he thought, it would be better to die, rather than live such a life? But even that release was denied him.

  Skelda continued to push his new body to the limit, eager to be back in Brockenhurst Forest. In his imagination he was already running along its sweet smelling paths, as he had in cubhood. He would take a new mate and raise many cubs and they would be his strength. Together they would sweep out into the surrounding countryside and conquer every sett in Boddaert's Realm.

  Still lost amid these dreams of what was to come, Skelda climbed to the top of a steep escarpment and stopped there to rest. Standing at the very edge of a deep precipice, eyes glazed with excitement, he surveyed his imagined forces gathered on the plain below.

  While Skelda was distracted with his fantasies, Brock's anger erupted almost beyond his control, and it was this anger that now directed him. He saw one slim chance, and even knowing that success would mean his death, he made up his mind to act.

  For what was life without the freedom to choose? No, in the circumstances, death would be a welcome release.

  Concentrating every atom of his anger into a bright point of light, Brock used its power to force his body forward. It was only a small step, hardly noticeable really, but enough to cause a stumble.

  The loose earth at the edge of the escarpment crumbled away under their weight and they fell, plummeting downwards, bouncing and tumbling over the steep slope with an ever increasing speed. And even as they plunged onto the ground at the base of the escarpment, where they flew high into the air before hitting a small tree, the two personae fought for control– Skelda desperately trying to stop the fall, Brock doing all in his power to continue it.

  The descent had been long and painful, the sharp rocks tearing unmercifully at their flesh, the snapping of bones heard even over the howls and screams torn from their throat. But through it all Brock remained elated, for he knew that he had won.

  Their body came to rest at the base of the tree in a cloud of dust, flopped over once and lay quite still. For a long moment all was silent, then the birds in the high foliage began to twitter sharp warnings to each other, but eventually even they quietened and the countryside returned to its gentle routine once more.

  The remainder of the cycle passed slowly. The sun reached its zenith, and after bathing the scene in a strong light for a time, disappeared behind flat topped clouds blown in by a high wind.

  The body lay unmoving where it had fallen, its fur occasionally ruffled by a gentle breeze. The unseeing eyes, dull and glazed, continued to stare at nothing in particular.

  As the sun finally set, and the moon made ready to wash the precipice with its gentle radiance, the sky darkened, casting long shadows over the landscape.

  Now other creatures began to stir, crawling and scurrying out into the moonlight. From beneath the stones scattered about the plain, from small openings in the ground, they emerged, their antenna waving as they scented the air.

  The blood that had oozed from a torn ear, long dried now into a crusty dark-brown patch, began to attract the foraging insects.

  *

  Brokin was on the sixth moon of his journey back to Badachro Sett when he spotted the body at the bottom of the deep ravine.

  It looked as though the unfortunate badger had fallen from the top of the high ridge opposite.

  Brokin almost turned aside to carry on with his journey, thinking that the badger must surely be dead after such a fall, but something made him hesitate, some uncertainty playing at the corner of his mind.

  Carefully making his way down the side of the ravine, Brokin reached the rocky floor and quickly hurried across to the prone figure. Now that he was nearer, he could see one leg was bent at an odd angle and definitely looked broken, a bad sign.

  Reaching the badger's side, Brokin was amazed to discover that the boar was still alive. The glazed pain-racked eyes stared up at him uncomprehendingly.

  Brokin had helped Smint, their Healer, on many occasions, so he knew a little about the art of Healing. He could tell the boar was near to death and that there was little he could do to save him.

  Casting about the ravine, he found some, Ugly Milk-Cap growing next to a birch tree. The mushroom had a dark olive-brown cap with a central depression in it, and when Brokin broke it open, the cap oozed a hot-tasting, milky juice.

  Dribbling some of the juice between the badger's dry lips, Brokin waited, and quite quickly the boar began breathing a little easier, even managing a painful half-smile.

  In the three pain-racked moons that they'd lain at the base of the ravine, the personae that were Brock and Skelda had melded into one consciousness, and together were now far more than their single entities.

  They looked out from the broken body that had been their battleground with a peace neither had experienced before. The Dark Healing had met with The Way and was now one, cancelling and complementing each other– two opposite energies become whole.

  Through Brock and Skelda, the Prime Mover had brought together these primitive forces, melding them into something far more powerful.

  The dual life essence flickered weakly. The body holding it was dying, but that certainty held no fears for either of them.

  Brock's skills in The Way, combined with Skelda's knowledge of the Dark Healing, had shown them a different path, a new direction to take, and Brokin's palliative administered at just the right moment, had given them the strength to take this one last journey.

  Finally, as Brokin watched with sad eyes, the essence flickered and died, leaving its physical boundaries, reaching upwards and outwards. It had started a last search, a quest for the Prime Mover and a new beginning.
r />   Before leaving the ravine, Brokin dug a shallow grave for the stranger he had tried to help, and as he stood beside the fresh mound of earth, felt that he had been part of something far greater than the last moments of a dying boar. An air of mystery hung over the place and Brokin looked about uneasily, shivering slightly in the growing coldness.

  On his journey back to Badachro Sett, Brokin's thoughts returned often to the boar that he'd buried in the ravine. Something about the dying stranger had touched him deeply, had left him with the certainty that all was not well with the world.

  Chapter 21

  Darkburst rested beneath a gnarled elder eating the worms he'd gathered earlier. He yawned loudly, his breath forming a halo in the frigid air. The breeze had a chill feel about it and flurries of soft snow danced between the bare branches of the trees. A fox slipped quietly passed in the distance, single-minded in its search for a winter lair. All about, animals were preparing for the coming cold season.

  Darkburst shook off his lethargy, got to his feet, stretched and continued to follow the spoor he'd discovered earlier that moon-cycle. The scent told him a sow had made the trail and as he swayed on his way, he wondered what she might look like. Whatever, he would follow her scent until he found her sett and ask her for help.

  It was sometime later, as he emerged from a particularly dense patch of tangled undergrowth, that he spotted the sett beneath a tall ash tree on the edge of a large meadow. He stayed where he was for the moment, studying the mound of earth thrown up around the entrance, surprised at its smallness.

  Surely no more than one or two badgers could be living here, which was unusual because most badgers he knew hated living alone.

  Darkburst approached the sett warily, but could detect no other scent than the females around the entrance, so it appeared that she did indeed live here on her own.

  "Hello, is any badger there?"

  Darkburst shouted the greeting down into the sett, shaking his head in annoyance when it echoed back up to him unanswered.

  He tried again. "Hello, can you hear me?"

  But still there was no reply.

  Darkburst shrugged. Perhaps the sow was out hunting for food? Yet his nose told him she was definitely in the sett below.

  Cautiously making his way down into the chamber, Darkburst looked around. It was deep and snug, and would be a good place to spend the coming winter.

  But would the badger living here let him stay, he wondered.

  Searching for signs of life, he looked in every chamber, becoming more and more puzzled when he found no sign of anybadger. The sett was empty, yet the sow's scent was strong, very strong, as if she was standing right there beside him. Wrinkling his snout Darkburst cast about in ever growing confusion.

  Eventually he gave up on the conundrum, accepted the evidence of his own eyes and gave a long drawn-out yawn.

  Darkburst was really tired, the long journey had exhausted him. Settling down on a bed of dried leaves spread out in one corner, he contemplated his next move. He'd travelled a considerable distance over the past few moons but he still had a long way to go.

  On clear moon-cycles the stars had twinkled their message to him– on overcast ones they had used their strong, almost ethereal force on his mind, pulling him forward.

  But now it was time to rest, time to find a safe place in which to spend the cold cycle. Perhaps the female living here would allow him to stay once she got to know him.

  Where was she anyway? The sun was rising and she should have been back from her hunting by now.

  Closing his eyes, Darkburst made himself more comfortable amongst the leaves, sighing contentedly. The sett was warm and relaxing and his eyes grew heavier as sleep began to creep up on him.

  Perhaps just a short nap, he thought. After all, he'd come a long way.

  For a short time Darkburst fought the almost overpowering feeling of tiredness, but all too quickly he gave in, and the small chamber was filled with the sounds of gentle snoring.

  In the meadow above, the sun rose, lighting the low grey clouds with a red glow. The snow eased, then turned to light drizzle.

  As the temperature rose, creatures began scurrying about their business, using this last opportunity to collect winter stores. Tucked snugly in the warm chamber below, Darkburst missed the dawn's display as it drove his stars away.

  Time passed and the snow returned, gathering its strength to send heavy flakes scurrying around the slender trunk of the ash. The tree, sensing the coming winter, as it had for many generations past, settled itself more comfortably into the ground, its great roots creaking in protest as it did so. In the tree's slow continuum, winter was but a small blip in temperature, a regular occurrence that came and went, cycle on cycle; a short period of rest and recovery before it sent out fresh young shoots to welcome the warmth of the returning sun.

  Deep in the earth, beneath the ash's root system, Darkburst opened one eye and listened intently.

  What had woken him? Had he heard something? A cough perhaps? Yes, there it was again.

  Looking around expectantly, his eyes widened in surprise when he discovered that he was still alone. Settling back down again, he feigned sleep, snoring loudly, but staying alert, every sense quivering with expectation.

  Again a soft cough came from across the chamber. Very faint, but unmistakable.

  Getting up, Darkburst quietly crossed to the far wall and studied it. There, just visible, was a lighter patch of soil to one side of the entrance tunnel. Darkburst nodded his head in admiration.

  Yes, that was very clever.

  "You'd better come out now," he called loudly. "I know you're in there."

  After a short pause, a few grains of soil trickled down from the patch on the wall, then a few more, then a whole stream as the lighter coloured section collapsed onto the floor in front of him. The soil had been blocking a short tunnel dug into the side of the chamber.

  "Please, don't hurt me," a tremulous voice pleaded from the darkness.

  "It's alright," Darkburst called softly. "Come on, come out. I won't hurt you."

  Darkburst's eyes widened in surprise as a frightened sow scrambled out over the loose pile of earth. She was completely white.

  Backing away awkwardly, fear alive in her pink eyes, the terrified badger looked about apprehensively, every nerve taught. Realising how frightened she was, Darkburst's heart suddenly went out to her.

  "No, it's alright," he responded, trying to reassure the sow as she backed further away, her eyes seeking the reassurance of the entrance tunnel. "Really, I won't hurt you. Really, I mean it."

  Darkburst stepped off a few paces, aware that his closeness was disturbing her.

  "What's your name?"

  The sow glanced at the entrance tunnel again, as though making ready to flee, but when Darkburst made no move towards her, she relaxed a little.

  "My name's Brightness," she replied at length, her voice subdued, her eyes lowered.

  Darkburst smiled reassuringly. "Do you live here by yourself Brightness?"

  The sow's eyes widened in fright, as though an admission would be dangerous. Darkburst moved further away, giving her more room.

  "Come on, it's all right," he coaxed. "Really, I promise I won't hurt you."

  Slowly crossing the chamber, the sow settled herself on the leaves, still very much on edge, her nervousness apparent in the shimmering white guard hairs that quivered on the tips of her ears.

  Darkburst smiled at Brightness again, then cocked his head to one side in a friendly gesture. When he spoke he was careful to keep his voice low and amicable.

  "I've a story I'd like to tell you Brightness," he said. "If you'll listen?"

  Brightness nodded.

  Taking his time, Darkburst told the young sow the story of his life. How he'd been born an albino, just as she was. How his mother, using her great skills as a Healer, had made him as other badgers. And how the Preceptor of his sett had given him a great task to carry out.

  Da
rkburst talked on and on, far into the sun-cycle, reliving his encounters with dangers– telling Brightness how, twice he'd nearly died, only to be saved by creatures appearing at his side as if by magic.

  Brightness listened to Darkburst's story with rapt attention, her pink eyes following his every move as he paced back and forth across the chamber, lost in his description of the bright ball of light that had emerged from the Sacred Roots and the wonderful image it had contained.

  As she listened to this strange badger, Brightness slowly overcame her fear of him, and while he continued with his tale, she uncovered a store of worms at which Darkburst took quick impulsive bites, swallowing rapidly so that he could continue his narration.

  Brightness lay down to listen, relaxed now, nibbling delicately at each morsel. Darkburst had no idea how long he talked for, but when he finally stopped, the sun was high in the sky.

  They stood together then, under the shade of the ash, two very different badgers sharing a common heritage. Darkburst, his coat a sleek grey, and close by his side Brightness, her pure white coat reflecting the weak winter sun. Darkburst shook the snow from his back and smiled down at her.

  "Brightness," he asked quietly, "do you think that I could stay here for the winter-cycle?"

  "Yes," she replied without hesitation.

  *

  During the long moon-cycles that followed, Darkburst and Brightness lay snug within their cosy chamber, serenaded by the sounds of the ash tree's roots as the winds swayed its slender trunk back and forth.

  They mostly slept, but occasionally one would venture forth to grub around the base of the tree for an insect or two. On these occasions they would talk or mate, or just share each other's company before returning to the somnolent state that marked the passage of the winter season.

  It was during these occasional wakeful periods that Darkburst learnt how the Elders in Brightness's home sett had forced her mother to abandon her on an exposed hillside because she had been born with white fur.

  *

  Ignoring convention, Brightness's mother had crept back to feed her cub every moon-cycle, leaving her in a different location each time, so that no badger would discover the hiding place.

  Brightness soon became used to being left on her own but always looked forward to her mother's visits with anticipation. Then one moon the visits stopped. Brightness began to worry about what had happened to her mother, her mind full of pictures of her lying injured somewhere, or worse still, dead. So after four moons with no sign of her mother's coming, Brightness set out in search of her.