Looking around, Darkburst spotted the remains of an old tree stump on the top of the rise. Gritting his teeth, he began struggling up the steep slope. He knew that where there was rotting wood, there would be fungi of one sort or another.
Finally topping the rise, Darkburst rested for a moment before setting out along the brow of the low hill, closing his eyes as the ground blurred in and out of focus.
Staggering his way along the ridge, breathing heavily at every step, he headed towards the hollow and the tree stump.
A thin branch had somehow managed to sprout on the stump, growing from the rotting mass, just below the point where it had been shorn off by a lightning strike. It pointed forlornly at the sky, like a single brown claw reaching for the moon.
Darkburst had almost reached his objective when the ground beneath his feet became waterlogged. He struggled on, his eyes fixed on the stump ahead, his feet pulling from the muddy morass with soft plops. But he unexpectedly found himself being sucked further and further into the clinging mire and stopping only made matters worse because he began sinking, the cold mud invading the soft under-fur of his belly, dragging him deeper.
Finally grasping what was happening, Darkburst began shouting for help, hoping against hope that some badger might be near enough to hear him.
As he continued his desperate struggles, his unanswered cries echoed across the quiet meadow, emphasising just how alone he was.
He'd sunk up to his chest now, and each time he moved, he sank a little bit further. Even so, the desperate youngster found it impossible not to struggle, adding to his demise.
Then, just as he gave up hope of his shouts ever being heard, two badgers appeared at the edge of the waterlogged hollow.
"Thank Homer you've come! Help me get out of here," Darkburst shouted.
His entreaties drew little response from the pair, who just stood watching him silently.
"Quickly," Darkburst pleaded, "I'm sinking deeper all the time. Don't just stand there, do something to help me!"
With a cold shock, Darkburst suddenly realised that the badgers had no intention of rescuing him from his plight and became increasingly desperate as he slipped ever deeper into the mire.
"What is it? What do you want? Why won't you help me?" he shouted, voice cracking with desperation.
"Why should we?" one of the badgers answered, his lips twisted into an ugly grin. "If we did that, then we'd only have to kill you afterwards. Far better that you drown right there, it'll save us a lot of trouble."
Darkburst was shocked. How could they watch him die like this, without raising a claw to help?
They were going to stand there and watch him drown!
With that realisation came an overwhelming sadness that he would never see his beloved Brightness again, nor spend another winter cycle snug beneath the ash tree, safe in her small sett.
Lowering his head Darkburst gave up his struggles and closed his eyes.
Then something nudged him under his jaw and glancing down, he saw the Circle of Claws floating on the surface of the thick mud. Biting through the grass cord, Darkburst ripped the enigmatic object from around his neck and lobbed it onto the ground in front of the two badgers.
"Then at least take this to Grindel," he shouted at them. "He's been waiting for it. Tell him that Darkburst found it in the forest beside the big lake."
One of the badgers picked up the stone and examined it carefully, turning it over and over between his paws. Then he passed the object to his companion and walked nearer to the edge of the mud pit.
"Did you say your name is Darkburst?" he queried.
When Darkburst nodded, yes, the badger unexpectedly burst into activity.
Collecting dry twigs and leaves from around the edge of the mire, he placed these on top of the mud. Then with his companion holding onto his tail, the boar slowly edged his way out towards Darkburst.
"Here take hold of this in your teeth," he said, holding out a stout branch.
Once Darkburst had a firm grip, the two badgers began pulling him out, and even though the mud was reluctant to let him go, the young boar was slowly dragged back onto solid land.
"I'm Rooten," the nearest badger said. "This is Comfrey. We're guards from Brockenhurst Sett. We were patrolling around the meadow here when we heard your shouts."
Comfrey studied the muddy boar suspiciously. "And you say your name is Darkburst?" he asked.
Darkburst nodded his head urgently. "Yes, that's my name."
Why did they doubt him, he wondered. And why had they been prepared to let him die in the mud pit?
His mind was a whirl of confusing questions.
Comfrey beckoned his companion to one side, then keeping a wary eye on the bedraggled and mud splattered boar, whispered in an undertone.
"But this can't possibly be the Darkburst that the Preceptor was talking about. Look at his fur."
Rooten nodded his agreement. "Yes I know," he whispered back. "Did you see what happened back there? His coat turned white when he took this thing from around his neck. It's unbelievable."
Poking the stone with an extended claw, the bewildered badger slowly shook his head, concern lining his snout.
"I don't like this, not one little bit. There was no talk of this Darkburst having such powers. If this is really the same Darkburst we could be in great danger. Who knows what he'll do to us after the way we treated him."
As the two guards talked in heated whispers, Darkburst started to remove the mud from around his wound. His leg smelt terrible, like decaying flesh that had been left too long in the sun.
He cleaned his leg with long licks of his tongue, then turned his attention to the wound itself, but had only been working at this task for a few moments when he paused, his eyes widening in surprise. Lowering his leg, he stared at it, then urgently parted the coarse outer hairs with a trembling claw, peering closely at the soft undercoat beneath. His heart skipped a beat and his breath faltered.
His coat had turned a pure white!
Darkburst's mind raced as he scrabbled about on his flanks, checking everywhere he could reach. Yes there was no mistake, his fur was now a brilliant white colour.
Darkburst knew that he'd been born an albino, but it was still a thorough shock to realised that somehow he'd reverted to that original state.
How had this happened? He tried to reason it out but could make no sense of it.
Closing his eyes, he nipped his skin with his front teeth, just in case he was hallucinating, but when he opened his eyes again his fur was still a pure white colour.
Maybe it was the result of his nearly drowning in the mud? No that didn't make any sense at all– his coat hadn't changed colour on his other brushes with death.
Whatever the cause of his present predicament, Darkburst could see now why the two guards were treating him so suspiciously.
Comfrey came back to talk to him, seemingly ill at ease to be standing so close.
The guard nodded at the wound on Darkburst's leg. "What's wrong with you? Can you walk?"
Darkburst nodded. "I think so. If you help me."
The trio set out along the winding path towards Brockenhurst Sett, the two guards supporting the injured youngster, even though they were reluctant to touch him, afraid that having contact with him might somehow taint them.
Darkburst limped along the pathway between the two guards, his spirits rising considerably when they finally reached the outskirts of Brockenhurst Sett.
He stopped to take it all in, giving the guards a moments panic before they realised that all he was doing was taking a brief rest.
It was a bright, clear sky; the moonlight shimmering down between the trees, reflecting back from the damp bark in a hundred thousand tiny sparkles. The grass heads nodded at him, welcoming him back, undulating away from him in silver-green wavelets as the gentle breeze caressed them.
Darkburst's heart soared as he finally stepped in beneath the moon-speckled canopy of the trees. He was home again
at last, safe in the embrace of the forest that he knew so well. Now things would be alright.
As these thoughts flooded the sick badger's mind, the outline of the trees began to waver and shimmer at the edges of his vision. Then slowly, from somewhere deep inside him, a darkness arose.
He staggered slightly, the bright moonlight blinking out as his world was unexpectedly filled with a whirling blackness.
Comfrey swore loudly as the strange badger they were supporting collapsed into an untidy heap between them. Leaning over the inert form, he put his ear to the badger's chest and listened carefully. Shaking his head, he looked up at his companion and wrinkled his snout.
"What's the matter with him?" Rooten asked, even though he knew the answer.
"He's dying," Comfrey responded. "We may as well leave him here and take what he gave us back to the Preceptor. There's no sense in dragging him all the way back to the sett when he'll be dead long before we arrive."
*
In the chambers below Fire Rock, Grindel was pacing back and forth with angry strides.
"Where is he?" he growled.
Cherva shook his head, favouring the ragged slash that extended down the length of his snout with his paw.
"I don't know Preceptor. After he did this to me, he ran off towards the sett entrance, killing two of my guards on the way."
Cherva's voice shook with indignation and he took a deep breath to steady it.
"I have every spare guard searching the sett right now. They have orders to kill the boar on sight."
"NO!"
Grindel's voice rebounded from the smooth walls of the strangely shaped chamber.
"I want him alive. I have plans for that particular boar. He is not to be killed."
As Cherva left the chamber to carry out his orders, Grindel sat back on his haunches, thinking about the satisfaction he would have putting this Thesa to death.
Declawing was too easy for him.
Grindel smiled slowly as he came to a decision. He would bury him alive under rocks.
Yes, that would show all the badgers in Boddaert's Realm that treachery would be repaid a thousand-fold.
Grindel picked over a pile of fat worms collected for him earlier, choosing the most succulent. Eating, he made plans for the completion of his takeover of Boddaert's Realm.
Once he had killed the remaining badgers at Badachro Sett, nothing stood in his way to becoming the most powerful boar in Badgerdom!
Chapter 28
Without a second thought, the two guards abandoned Darkburst to his fate and hurried back to Brockenhurst Sett, happy in the knowledge that they would be well rewarded for their work in bringing back the curious stone that the strange boar had carried about his neck.
As they hurried along the moon dappled pathways, Comfrey and Rooten nodded at the occasional badgers they met along the way, glad to hear the news that the attackers from Badachro had been beaten. Perhaps now things would get a little better.
There had been talk of new tunnels being dug to cater for the greater numbers living there, but so far these plans had been put to one side. Already rumours were circulating that fighters would soon be sent out to finish off any survivors that might still be living in Badachro Sett, and after that, so the gossip went, the Preceptor would take over the remaining setts in Boddaert's Realm one by one, until every badger lived under his domain.
The two guards were excited, seeing the opportunities these plans presented for advancement. As they hurried along, Rooten and Comfrey discussed whether to volunteer to join the fighting forces. Such a move might bring many returns.
It was Rooten's first duty with Comfrey, and they'd certainly struck lucky. Cherva would recompense them well for what they had done.
When the two friends finally reached the sett, they made their way to the Great Chamber. Comfrey handed the stone to the guard at the entrance, requesting an audience with the Preceptor. They were told to wait.
As they did so, Rooten looked about at the roomy chambers, wrinkling his snout, wondering what it would be like to wield such power. He nodded to himself, a half-smile forming on his lips. Well this might be the start of finding out. If he was lucky and fought well when the time came, he might even be given a sett of his own to run. Now that was a thought!
The guard returned and ushered them through a short tunnel into the Great Chamber. Comfrey and Rooten crossed the large expanse of floor, stopping before the most powerful badger in Boddaert's Realm.
The ever-present giant, Cherva, stood at the Preceptor's side, staring at them intently. His snout had a fresh scar running down one side, still outlined in congealed blood. His right eye was closed and sunken, as though the socket was empty.
The pair jumped when the Preceptor's gravelly voice boomed out at them. "Where did you find this?" he growled, prodding the stone with his paw.
Rooten glanced at Comfrey but his friend had been terrified into silence by the Preceptor's presence.
Rooten coughed uneasily and licked his dry lips. "From a badger drowning in the marsh, Preceptor. Out beyond the hawthorn stand, across Low Meadow."
Grindel turned the object over and studied the reverse side. It was a duplicate of the first. The delicate outlines of the claws easily discernible against the darker background of the stone.
His heart beat faster as he took in the significance of what he was examining, but he hardly dared let himself hope.
No, not yet. He needed further proof!
He glowered at the frightened badgers standing before him.
"Who was this badger?" he snarled.
Comfrey moved uncomfortably under the Preceptor's glare, keeping his eyes cast to the floor. "He said his name was Darkburst, Preceptor."
Grindel smiled and nodded his head. So the young badger had succeeded after all, but he'd never doubted that he would. Then a wrinkle distorted his snout as a sudden thought clouded his mind.
Why then hadn't Darkburst come to present this remarkable stone to his benefactor himself?
"Where is this badger?" Grindel snapped, a tight fear gripping his heart.
Rooten flinched at the Preceptor's tone and looked to Comfrey for support, but finding none there, he noisily swallowed his fear.
"We left him on the forest path, Preceptor," he answered nervously, sensing at once that they had made a terrible mistake. He hurried on, tripping over his words. "The boar was dying, Preceptor. We saw no sense in dragging him all the way back here."
"You left him to die?" It was an accusation, not a question.
The almost tearful Rooten nodded miserably.
Grindel's shouts reverberated around the Great Chamber. "Guards," he yelled at the top of his voice. "Get in here right now and take these two idiots out of my sight."
Two guards quickly appeared at the entrance, but as they crossed the chamber and began dragging the unfortunate pair out, Grindel stopped them. "No, wait. Better still, confine them to a chamber. I'll take them to the marsh in Low Meadow later and throw them in."
Having sent the two guards to their fate, Grindel dismissed them from his mind without further thought, turning his attention to Cherva.
"Get a message to Soffen," he instructed. "Tell her that I want to see her here, right away. Quickly now, it may already be too late."
Cherva pushed his way passed the two burly guards, who were still dragging the pair of terrified badgers from the chamber, heading off towards the lower levels of the sett where Soffen had her tiny sleeping space.
As he hurried along the tunnels, Cherva replayed the scene he'd just witnessed in his mind's eye, trying to work out what significance the stone might have. From the way that Grindel had handled it the object had significant importance.
Cherva entered Soffen's small chamber and looked about. It felt cold and empty, as though it hadn't been occupied for some time.
Cherva felt a shudder run along his spine.
Hurrying from the chamber, he searched the small living spaces spread out along the t
unnel, questioning every badger living there, but got the same slow shake of the head.
No, they hadn't seen the Healer for quite some time, and didn't know where she might be.
Cherva's search became more and more frantic as he ran from chamber to chamber, his heart pounding in his chest as he realised that she had disappeared. Gathering some guards together he sent them out to scour the sett, pacing back and forth in agitation.
Where had the sow got to? She had to be here somewhere. No badger could have left the sett without his knowledge.
Cherva hurried from the lower levels, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally re-entered the upper tunnels. Here the air was fresh and breathable and a badger could move without gagging at every step.
He made his way to his sleeping chambers, worrying how best to tell Grindel that he couldn't find the Healer.
*
Brokin tried to open his eyes but they were stuck together with gunk. Trying again, he managed to open them part way. Groaning softly, he ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth.
Slowly his eyesight returned to normal and the rocky floor shimmered into view.
He was lying on his side with his head twisted back at an awkward angle. It pounded as though . . . as though some badger was jumping up and down on it. It felt like it was being hit with a big branch. No . . . wait . . . something had hit him . . . the rock.
Suddenly it all came rushing back– the fight with the guards, the collapse of the stone pile above the entrance, the flying rock that had struck him on the head. No wonder he felt so bad.
How long had he been lying here? His stiffness told him, a long time.
He tried to sit up, but stopped when the floor began to swim in and out of focus. He rested for awhile and finally, after the pounding in his head had eased a little, he managed to stumbled to his feet and look around.
Brokin was alone in the vent tunnel, which meant that none of his fighters had managed to make it in with him.
He didn't waste time worrying what might have happened to his friends. What was, was, and nothing he could do was going to change that now.
Shaking the dust from his coat, Brokin winced and leant against the wall to let his eyesight catch up with his movements. Gradually things stopped rolling back and forth and he was able to move without it feeling as though his head was about to fall off.
Raising a paw he examined the wound, wincing at the sharp pain that lanced down his neck. He could feel the dried blood matting his fur, the long jagged cut left by the rock. He wondered once again how long he had been unconscious, but there was no way of telling in the darkness of the tunnel.