"You know me, I am a fair badger. A badger who only has the good of this sett in his heart. A badger that has done all in his power to protect both the sett and those living in it. It is because of this that I now ask you to trust me. To help me in what I must do."
There was an uneasy movement within the crowd, and a few shouts, at Grindel's words.
"From this cycle the Council has been dissolved, and I—"
Drowned out by a sudden roar of protest, Grindel was forced to wait until things had settled down again.
"Yes, you heard me right. I have disbanded the Council. In the circumstances I had no other option." With heavy creases lining his snout Grindel slowly nodded his head. "I have done this because there has been treachery amongst the Custodians."
A gasp, as if from one throat, rose from the crowd.
Grindel nodded in agreement and continued. "A small group of badgers has acted directly against the Council. But worse than that, they have acted directly against the sett. Directly against you. YOU HAVE BEEN BETRAYED!"
The mountains amplified his words, throwing them back at the crowd in a confused conglomeration of echoes. Holding a paw aloft, Grindel implored the throng to silence once more. Then rearing up on his hind legs, he reiterated his accusation.
"Yes badgers, you have been betrayed."
Bellowing loudly, so that even those at the back could not mistake the scorn in his voice, he punched his words right at them, as though addressing each badger individually.
"I have discovered treachery, right here in Brockenhurst Sett. In our own Council, this very moon." Pausing, he scanned the crowd. "Treachery by the very Custodians that were elected to protect us!"
The stunned silence following this revelation was eventually broken by a voice from the back of the crowd.
"What treachery?" it demanded.
Grindel swung his head in the questioner's direction, as though he could actually see the individual in the sea of faces before him.
"You," he yelled back, "You ask what treachery and you deserve an answer. Well I will give you one."
Pausing for a moment, he played the crowd, allowing them to become restless before tossing his next words at them, like sharp-edged stones.
"The Sacred Roots have been stolen."
Grindel's voice quivered as he delivered these words, as though he had difficulty containing his outrage. Glaring down at them, he nodded his satisfaction at the reaction this news evoked.
"THE SACRED ROOTS HAVE BEEN STOLEN!" he shouted, his voice rebounding from the nearby rock face.
Shouts of dismay rang out amongst those gathered on Fire Rock. Some badgers pushed forward in their anger, crushing those at the front. Grindel urged the gathering nearer, which only added to the panic and injuries being suffered. The circle of guards forming a protective ring around him fought desperately to try and restore some semblance of order.
"Who has done this shameful thing?" the same voice from the back of the crowd called above the melee.
Grindel leant forward, looking out over the assembly and they fell silent once more. Raising his eyes to the moon, he stared at it for a long moment, drawing out the crowds tension. The atmosphere was now so charged that the air was almost unbreathable. Hesitantly, as though reluctant to accuse another badger, Grindel lowered his gaze once more and gave them the name they wanted.
"It was the one called Grey."
Abruptly the name was taken up by the mob, shouted by more and more voices, until the very air itself reverberated with it. "Grey . . . Grey . . . Grey!"
Grindel nodded at his guards and they moved forward to quieten the crowd, beating those that continued to shout. When the guards had finally returned some semblance of order to the meeting, Grindel pointed to the circle of boars protecting him.
"These badgers have been selected to replace the Custodians, and their orders must be obeyed." Holding a paw aloft to stem the flow of protests that followed, Grindel smiled broadly. "I assure you that as long as you do what you're asked nothing will happen to you. And it is only a temporary measure, until I have discovered how deeply this treachery runs. Remember, it is essential that I find out how many more badgers are involved, because it is obvious that Grey could not have done this thing alone. Others must have helped him."
Pointing into the sea of upturned muzzles, Grindel wrinkled his snout and shouted, "Perhaps one of them stands next to you right now!"
With his words, movement rippled through the ranks as badger turned to badger, studying their neighbour with deep suspicion.
Grindel pushed home his advantage. "Soffen, our Healer, was one such."
The crowd moaned in unison, as though being struck by the guards again. They quickly quietened when Grindel raised his paw, hushed, gripped, hanging on his every word.
"And the stranger, Brock," Grindel continued. "The one who calls himself Teller of The Way. He was another!" Pausing again Grindel let the crowd digest this information for a moment. "He too was part of this plan to steal our most treasured possession."
Grindel's next words echoed down from the mountains, whipping the crowd into uncontrolled hysteria. "What happens now will not– must not– be my decision alone, but yours my brothers. What shall we do badgers? What shall we do with these traitors? What shall we do with these thieves?"
"WHAT SHALL WE DO?"
From the back of the crowd came the reply Grindel sought. "Kill them. Kill the traitors!"
Grindel nodded, cocking an ear sky-wards. "What did you say?" he shouted back. "I can't hear you. What did you say?"
A roar rose from the enraged mob, washing over the elated Preceptor as he beamed down at them. A roar as if from one throat.
"Kill them! Kill them! Kill the traitors!"
Grindel gazed out over the crowd as they bayed for the death of their Healer and her accomplices. This was far better than he could have dared hope for. He'd expected at least some resistance to his taking over the Council so completely, but it had not come.
When the throng had finally shouted themselves out, Grindel spoke his next words carefully, assuaging them with his reasoned argument.
"Badgers," he began, pausing to let his gaze traverse their faces again, caressing them with his smile. "If we hope to recover the Sacred Roots, we will need a leader. A badger who is not afraid to face this danger head-on. A badger who has courage and foresight." Quickening the tempo Grindel allowed his voice to rise to a shout again. "A badger with the strength of will to fight the evil that now faces us all." Rearing up he threw back his head and bellowed at the dark clouds. "Who shall this badger be, my friends?"
"WHO SHALL THIS BADGER BE?"
The voice from the back of the crowd cried out once more. "The Preceptor shall be our leader. I say the Preceptor. The Preceptor will lead us."
Grindel's name was taken up by the excited mob and it was a long time before he could make himself heard above the noise.
*
Grindel studied the sombre badger standing before him and smiled. "You did well my friend."
The badger lowered his gaze in respect, trying to hide his pleasure at such praise. It was as well not to give too much away.
Grindel sucked at a worm for a moment, then discarding the empty skin, he beckoned the badger nearer. "Tell me Cherva, how goes it with the Custodians?"
Cherva moved his considerable bulk nearer to the Preceptor, feeling uneasy at such closeness. He was a large badger, muscular, his coat sleek and grey. Most other badgers were cowed by his size, doing as he ordered without argument, but he knew that mere strength would be no match against Grindel's cunning. It was even rumoured that the Preceptor had magical powers.
Grindel had taken great pains in searching out a badger such as Cherva, travelling to many setts on the periphery of Brockenhurst Forest before finding a suitable candidate. He studied his choice, aware that the badger's hard, muscular body housed a cunning brain. He would need watching. True, the boar lacked the shrewdness that would make him a direct
threat, but still, he would need careful watching.
"The Custodians have been imprisoned as you directed," Cherva answered. "I have posted guards. They will not escape, Preceptor."
Grindel leant closer, smiling his satisfaction when Cherva's eyes widened slightly. "And Fenn, what about him?"
Cherva drew back a pace before answering. "I did as you instructed, Preceptor. I broke his jaw with a rock. He won't be talking to any badger for a long time now. If ever."
Grindel nodded. "You may leave me now, but return when the moon is full. I want to speak with you again before the next meeting is held. There are certain preparations we have to make."
*
Cherva backed from the chamber then hurried away to inspect the badgers guarding the Custodians. He checked everything meticulously, knowing that he would suffer horribly if anything went awry with the Preceptor's plans. The knowledge that he could have ripped the life from Grindel's body with a single slash of his sharp claws made little difference to the respect he felt for the Preceptor's powers. He shuddered as he recalled how he had been forced to watch the slow death of one of the Custodians.
Not that seeing a badger die upset him unduly, he'd killed more than once himself. No, not the death, but the manner in which it had been accomplished. The Custodian had slowly choked to death in front of Cherva, killed by the Preceptor's magic.
After being dragged before them by the guards, the Custodian was thrown to the floor at Grindel's feet, where the Preceptor glared down at the badger, his eyes full of contempt. It was obvious from the state of the boar that he'd been savagely beaten. After finally gaining his feet the Custodian scowled at Grindel through the one good eye left to him.
The Preceptor had ordered the boar to leave Brockenhurst Valley and never return, but the Custodian refused outright. Grindel did not argue. Instead he simply cast a pawful of fine dust over the badger's head and uttered an incantation. The Custodian's body arched dramatically as he tore at his throat, his mouth opening and closing in a vain attempt at breathing. Finally he collapsed onto the floor and died, terror bulging his rolling eyes.
Cherva did not know what had killed the Custodian. Whether it was the dust cast over his head by Grindel, or the badgers own terror. Either way, with the pragmatism of a survivor, Cherva immediately threw his strength behind the Preceptor and swore his allegiance. Then on his new master's orders, he imprisoned the remaining Custodians in a damp chamber beneath Fire Rock.
Even outnumbered ten to one, Cherva had easily taken them during a meeting in the Great Chamber, overcoming their weak resistance before they could organise themselves. They'd had grown soft in their protected positions and were soon cowering before him.
Roughly pushing a guard out of his way when the boar failed to move aside quickly enough, Cherva stomped into the chamber where the remaining Custodians were being held. They lay about dejectedly on mouldy leaves, looking frightened and confused. As he entered the chamber Cherva studied the straight walls and sharp angles uneasily. It was an unnatural place, oppressive and threatening.
He crossed quickly to one badger laying alone in a corner and turned the Custodian's head so that he could look him straight in the eyes. The boar whimpered quietly at the rough grasp on his broken jaw, his body trembling with pain.
Cherva noted the rebelliousness still lurking in the badger's bright eyes and grunted.
"Have your moment of defiance, fool," he growled in a low voice. "You'll soon loose that sparkle of fight when the Preceptor gets through with you."
Satisfied that all was as it should be, he called a guard forward and gave instructions that the prisoners were to receive water.
There was no sense in letting them die too quickly.
As Cherva hurried along the now familiar tunnels leading to his sleeping chambers, he thought back over the past few moons.
His life had changed dramatically since he'd come to Brockenhurst Sett, almost beyond recognition.
After the Sacred Roots had been stolen from the Great Chamber, the Preceptor had come to visit him with talk of a diarchy and a promise of power. It was a persuasive declaration, hard to ignore. Cherva had immediately recognised that the Preceptor was offering him the chance to become the first suzerain of Brockenhurst Sett, with the authority to rule a realm within a realm. It was a dream he had held since cubhood. Position, power, perhaps even– but Cherva forswore the luxury of finishing that particular thought. There would be time enough for such dreams later.
After the Preceptor's visit Cherva quickly set about collecting a band of badgers to train as guards, only choosing the largest and most aggressive, those with grudges against their fellow badgers.
Taking them away from the main sett he ordered them to dig a temporary burrow in Low Meadow. The burrow was damp and dismal just as Cherva knew it would be, discomfort would lend a sharpness to their training.
Cherva trained the badgers hard, never letting up on the pressure. It took a great deal of effort on his part to get them to overcome their natural aversion to killing, but they slowly succumbed. It was necessary if the Preceptor's plans were going to work.
After two new moons, Cherva had done the best he could, and the new guards were a team that worked well together. They knew how to disable and maim, would kill on his orders, and showed no mercy to themselves or others. With these badgers Cherva would hold sway over the whole sett, second only to the Preceptor himself.
Promising the guards rewards of the best sleeping chambers and choice of females for all the hard work they had put in, Cherva left to report back to Grindel, smiling broadly as he considered his new position.
*
Grindel was well pleased with the progress being made. Through Cherva and his guards, he now had total control of Brockenhurst Sett.
The first phase of his plan was to fortify the sett against attack and this was well under way. The main thrust was an earthwork to guard the entrance to the sett. This would allow defenders to protect the sett and confuse any attacker trying to gain entrance. Backing this up would be a special group of fighters trained by Cherva.
Regular patrols had been set up on all the pathways leading into Brockenhurst Forest. Any badger foolish enough to be found wandering them was brought back and put to work on the complicated earthworks that was steadily growing larger.
The sett entrances were guarded each cycle, with badgers only being allowed out under strict supervision to collect food or work on the defences. Any dissent was dealt with publicly and harshly.
Grindel wallowed in the atmosphere of fear that had now settled over Brockenhurst Valley. Using Cherva's terror tactics, he had consolidated his position and all badgers now cast their eyes to the ground when he passed. No longer under the hated Skelda's power, Grindel was free to pursue his own plans with a vengeance and this he did, his grip tightening on the sett with each passing moon.
During this time, Grindel had begun to explore the tunnels that had been Skelda's lair. On first entering them he had been frightened by the strangely shaped burrows and chambers that he'd found. Quickly though, he managed to push his fears aside and became fascinated by the bizarre configurations the tunnels took. One chamber especially intrigued him and he spent many moons there, trying to unlock its secrets.
The walls of this chamber were so smooth that even fine dust did not cling to them. They rose higher than his eyes could see, and somewhere far above him, lost in a murky darkness, he sensed a roof that spanned an incredible distance. The chamber felt oppressive and the smallest noise, even his own soft breathing, echoed back to him from every direction.
When Grindel had first entered the chamber he'd looked about uneasily, expecting the roof to come tumbling down on top of him at any moment. The floor was covered with a deep layer of dust and it was obvious that no creature had crossed its surface in a long time. Tentatively he walked out into the enormous underground space, sneezing frequently as the dust swirled up around his head. Creeping across the vast emptiness Gr
indel forced himself forward until he reached the far side where he found a large, flat-sided object that towered above him.
The sides of this object were grainy, the edges sharply angled, its shape the same as that of the chamber in which it lay. Moving warily Grindel walked around the object, sniffing it now and then. The object had an unidentifiable scent that was sharp and musty. It was perhaps four times his height and six times as long. Licking it with a tremulous tongue, he discovered it was made of a ligneous substance. This comforted him a little. He understood trees. They were familiar and posed no threat.
Strange black markings covered the larger of the flat surfaces, their shapes vaguely reminiscent of the carvings in the Taproot Chamber. Grindel had spent many moons in that strange chamber studying the object resting there. But in the end he was none the wiser than when he'd first entered.
Shortly after this Grindel had the first dream. A dream that recurred repeatedly over the following seasons. A dream that quickly became an obsession, consuming as much of his wake-time as it did his sleep-time.
In this dream, Grindel entered the vast, dusty chamber and stood before the object resting there. A power radiated from it, an almost palpable, physical thing, that drew him closer– as though the moon, trapped inside, was trying to break out, oozing through the rough, grainy surface in bands of bright, cold light.
In the dream Grindel approached the object and set to work with his powerful jaws, finding little difficulty in chewing his way into the flat, woody surface. Pausing frequently to spit out the splinters, he steadily gnawed his way through the thick layers until he'd broken through into the interior.
It was at this point that the dream always ended, and the frustration at being so near to discovering what might be inside the object, always cut through his mind like a spume of fire. It felt as though the answers to all the questions he could ever possibly ask were just out of reach, tantalisingly close, but still unobtainable.