Soffen was surprised to see so many badgers out and about during the sun-cycle, usually they would have been settled in their sleeping chambers, especially as winter was almost upon them.
As the party entered the clearing, the two guards took up position each side of her again, guiding her at an angle across the packed earth clearing. Finally they stopped in front of the main sett entrance.
"Wait here," one of the guards barked at her, then hurried off to speak to a large boar guarding the opening. The pair talked animatedly for a moment, then he returned. "Cherva is in the Great Chamber," he told his companion, prodding Soffen into motion again.
The stench that engulfed Soffen as they entered the sett made her gag and it was some time before she could see through the tears stinging her eyes.
One of the guards barked a short laugh at her reaction. "You'll get used to that," he growled, nudging her further into the sett. "We all do, eventually."
Soffen was in familiar territory now and her heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Brock again. He would explain what was happening to Brockenhurst Sett and where all these rough badgers had come from.
Finally, having reached the entrance to the Great Chamber, the trio halted and for the first time the two guards seemed unsure of themselves. They exchanged nervous looks with each other before glancing into the chamber. The air was less repugnant here and Soffen took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart.
The smaller of the guards swallowed loudly, looking at his companion. Getting no reaction, he shrugged, then slowly disappeared into the chamber, only to reappear a short while later.
"In you go," he instructed, pushing Soffen forward.
Soffen took a few tentative steps into the Great Chamber, then stopped in surprise.
Facing her was a badger she recognised, and her heart beat faster. Grindel, the Preceptor, leader of the Custodians and Guardian of the Sacred Roots, glared back at her, his feelings of contempt apparent in his dark eyes. Standing off to one side was a giant hulk of a badger whom Soffen had never seen before and guessed must be Cherva, the boar that the guards had talked about in hushed voices on their journey back through the forest.
"Come forward female," the Preceptor ordered.
Soffen moved further into the chamber, casting her eyes to the floor in respect. The Preceptor stared at her for a moment before speaking.
"This is our fabled Healer," he told Cherva in an aside, not taking his gaze from Soffen. "One of the thieves who stole the Sacred Roots."
"But I can explain—"
"Be quiet sow," the Preceptor cut short Soffen's explanation with a harsh growl. "Speak only when you're spoken to and not before."
Then turning to the giant boar, the Preceptor continued his conversation as though there had been no interruption.
"Now why do you suppose she did that Cherva? What possible reason could our Healer here have to steal such a precious item from us? Perhaps she took them to help heal a sick cub? Or maybe ward off an attack by some marauding badgers? What do you think Cherva? It would need to be something important, wouldn't it? After all, stealing the Sacred Roots is not something you would undertake lightly, is it?"
Turning his dark eyes back on Soffen once more, the Preceptor scowled at her.
"Well, Healer?" he prompted when she remained silent.
Soffen explained how she had gone with the others to search for Boddaert's Magic in the hope of saving Brockenhurst Sett. How she believed that all the badgers living in Brockenhurst Forest would die if Brock's vision were true. She told of the tragedies that had befallen her on the journey. Of Grey's death, the drowning of Darkburst and the disappearance of Broshee.
Finally in a voice so full of pain, that for just one moment, Cherva almost felt sorry for her, she told of Brock's sickness and ultimate disappearance.
All through the Healer's narration, the Preceptor listened intently, nodding his head occasionally, as though encouraging her to continue. When she had finally finished he stood quietly, staring at her, his silence adding to the tension.
Cherva moved his considerable bulk slightly and the Preceptor barked a short laugh.
"Healer," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, "you certainly can tell a good tale. I'll give you that. So tell me, who thought up this preposterous story? Was it you, or Brock? Or perhaps Grey? Yes, probably Grey. He was always too sharp for his own good." Shaking his head again Grindel chuckled his amusement, laughter dancing in his eyes.
"But it's all true Preceptor," Soffen protested softly. "I promise you."
"No female," Grindel retorted. "I'll tell you what's true. The truth is that you and your little gang of followers went looking for Boddaert's Magic– not to save Brockenhurst Sett– but to destroy it. You planned to use it for your own twisted ends but things went wrong for you, didn't they? And the others sent you back here with this ridiculous tale in the hope that I could be persuaded to turn a blind eye to your misdeeds. Well we'll see about that later. First tell me about your cub, Darkburst. You say you never found his body in the tunnel under the river?"
Soffen shook her head and Grindel nodded.
"I see," he responded. "Then perhaps there's a chance he still lives."
Glancing at Cherva, Grindel wrinkled his snout as though an unpleasant smell had entered the chamber.
"Take this away somewhere and put a guard on it," he ordered, indicating Soffen.
But as Cherva began to herd Soffen from the chamber, Grindel stopped him momentarily. "Make sure no badger touches it," he added in a low, harsh growl. "You understand my meaning?"
Cherva nodded and turned away, pushing Soffen before him, wondering why the sow rated such special treatment.
Guiding the Healer through the tunnels towards the chamber below Fire Rock where the other prisoners were kept, Cherva pondered on the reasons why the Preceptor might be so interested in the Healer's cub. He was missing something important here and would do well to question the Healer about this himself, but how to do it without the Preceptor finding out was the problem.
Soffen was thrown into a small chamber already overcrowded with other badgers. They looked weak and emaciated, their eyes dull and sunken. A few heads turned in her direction as she stumbled about looking for somewhere to lay down, but mostly they just stared vacantly at the floor.
As she searched for a place to rest, Soffen noticed all the badgers in the chamber were avoiding one corner, even though this meant that there was less space for everyone else.
Soffen pushed her way to the corner, weaving her way through the crowd until she finally burst through the tightly packed bodies to find three dead badgers huddled on top of each other in a pile. One, just a cub, was scarcely a season old. She looked to her fellow prisoners for some sort of explanation but none would meet her gaze.
Making her way back through the press of bodies, Soffen crossed to the low archway and prodded the badger guarding the entrance with her snout.
"There are three dead badgers back here," she protested angrily. "How can you just leave them laying there. Haven't you got the decency to take them out and bury them? What's wrong with you all?"
The guard turned and raked Soffen's snout with his sharp claws. She fell back with a cry of pain, her sensitive nose dripping blood. She stood motionless for a moment, her heart beating fast, not really believing what had just happened.
When no badger came to her aide, Soffen angrily pushed her way to the nearest wall and lay down facing it, her sobs lost amongst the constant moans and whimpers of those around her.
A short time later three large boars pushed their way into the crowded chamber and dragged the dead bodies out, and for that small mercy she was thankful.
Soffen lay facing the wall, curled into a tight ball, her stumpy tail covering the tip of her nose. She cried softly to herself, her claws clenching and unclenching as she sobbed. Time passed and she began to breath more easily, her tiredness dulling her misery.
Finally she found herself i
n that misty place between sleep and wakefulness, where troubles seemed to dissolve away and the harsh world become unreal. Her memories took her back to the forest that she knew so well, along paths bathed by golden moonlight, beneath trees that spread their protective canopies over all badgers, no matter how horrid.
Soon Soffen fell into a deeper slumber and dreamt about Brock. Together they ran along riverbanks, jumping in and out of the sparkling water as they chased fish from their hiding places on the stony bottom. Then they were flying through the cool air like two owls hunting mice, and for the first time since Grey's death, Soffen's lips formed a smile, her eyelids flickering as the eyes beneath them darted this way and that.
Soffen jerked awake at the gentle shake and the softly spoken words of a badger calling her name. Looking around she saw the familiar face of Moss, a friend of Raffen's. This unexpected sight brought the memories of her dead companion flooding back and she felt her eyes misting over.
Dear Raffen, dead because of her. When would it all end?
"That was a very brave thing you did, getting those brutes to remove those poor badgers like that," Moss said quietly.
"What's happening Moss?" Soffen mumbled despondently. "Has the whole sett gone mad?"
Moss settled herself down, flicking her tongue over dry lips. She looked tired, her fur unkempt and her claws dirty. Talking in an undertone, Moss told Soffen about the changes that had taken place since she had left on her search for Boddaert's Magic.
Though weak and thirsty, the young sow talked for a long time, hardly pausing to gather her thoughts, and the details she shared with Soffen shocked her so much that she scarcely drew a breath as she listened to the terrible account.
Soffen felt a new respect for the exhausted badger. Unlike many of her stronger peers, this gentle sow had refused to give in to the demands made upon her by the badgers now controlling Brockenhurst Sett: the fighters and guards who considered it their right to be fed, watered and mated whenever the fancy took them. Like most of the others packed into the small chamber, Moss had refused to cooperate and was now paying dearly for her stubbornness.
After Moss had finished telling Soffen about the ills that had befallen the sett, the exhausted sow fell into a restless slumber, leaving Soffen to ponder on the facts.
Getting stiffly to her feet, Soffen shook the knots from her body, then, being careful not to disturb her sleeping friend, she looked around at the miserable scene, sighing despondently.
Moving slowly, she quietly went to each badger in turn, asking them one question, steadily working her way through the chamber, persevering until she had spoken to every badger there. And when the last badger had answered her question with a negative shake of the head, she slumped back down beside Moss again, losing herself to a feeling of utter desolation.
Wearily closing her eyes, Soffen extended her mind, sending her thoughts outwards, imploring the Prime Mover to end her torture right now, before the next moon bathed the Brockenhurst Mountains with its gentle light.
She had no wish to live any longer. She had lost everything that was dear to her, everything that had any meaning in her life.
As Soffen closed her eyes and fell into a fitful doze, a badger standing nearby nodded at her as he spoke to his neighbour in an undertone.
"What did she ask you?" he wanted to know.
"She asked me if I'd heard anything about some badger called Brock," came the disinterested reply.
"Yes," was the response, "she asked me that too."
*
The cold weather fell on Brockenhurst Forest with an unexpected ferocity, and due to the large numbers of badgers over-wintering in the sett, food– always scarce at this time of the cycle– was even scarcer.
Deaths from illness and malnutrition quickly mounted, until those living in the lower chambers became restless, the less frightened amongst them mumbling their discontent more audibly as the corpses mounted. Cherva's guards were forced to keep up a constant patrol through the tunnels, putting down any dissent that arose– a task the privileged guards pursued with great relish.
When the Preceptor realised how bad things were becoming in the lower tunnels of the sett, he ordered Soffen's release from the chamber where she was incarcerated. His fear was that Yellow Cough might sweep through the crowded sett, decimating his fighting forces.
Soffen heard rumours that the Preceptor had ordered Cherva to throw any badger who became ill through fever, out onto the deep snow banks to die. Even though sick herself and having little heart for it, her conscience would not let her ignore so many sick badgers, so she agreed to return to her Healing duties.
As Soffen helped the suffering badgers, she managed to smuggle a few of the worst afflicted ones to her old burrow in Bluebell Clearing, where she could tend to their ills without the threat of their eviction and subsequent death.
Soffen accomplished this remarkable feat by convincing Cherva that she needed help to collect fresh plants and herbs with which to treat the sick. Masquerading as her helpers, these sick badgers were whisked away to her tunnels, safe from the dangers threatening them. By arranging these excursions as the guards were changing, Soffen ensured that when she returned alone the guards would be none the wiser.
During the long winter cycle, Soffen was kept busy tending the constant stream of sick badgers being sent to her chamber. Her trips into the forest to collect the few herbs that survived the harsh weather also gave her the opportunity to familiarise herself with the labyrinth guarding the entrance to the sett. By pretending to get lost from time to time she took full advantage of her time there, memorising every detail of the complicated layout. Whenever she got the chance and the guards were distracted, she made small marks at the intersections which would act as a guide through the tangled web of corridors.
Soffen was determined that when the weather warmed, she would escape the terrible place that Brockenhurst Sett had become and take the knowledge she had gathered to others. Surely there was some badger somewhere in Boddaert's Realm, who could put an end to this madness. In the meantime she would continue to help the sick as best she could.
However, for all her planning, Soffen never got the chance to put her scheme into action. At the first signs of warmer weather, Cherva withdrew her privileges and once again Soffen found herself confined to the overcrowded chamber.
Until she lost her freedom again, she hadn't appreciated how much she'd come to rely on her trips out into the snow-covered forest to keep her sane. Now that they had been withdrawn, she fell into a deep, dark depression.
One moon, Cherva came to her, saying that the Preceptor wanted to see her in the Great Chamber immediately. Before going to the meeting Soffen made her way down to the lowest levels, hurrying towards the large drinking pool at the very bottom of the sett. If she wanted to take advantage of this opportunity she would need to make herself presentable.
She would persuade the Preceptor to let her out on one last collecting trip. That's all she would need, just one last opportunity to slip away from the horrors surrounding her.
Standing over the shimmering pool, Soffen stared down into its depths, shocked at how thin she had become. Her reflection stared back up at her, almost a stranger. Leaning closer she studied the deep furrows in her snout, the grey hairs liberally sprinkled throughout the black stripes on her cheeks. She looked so old, so worn.
What would her Brock make of her now, she wondered.
As Brock's image flooded into Soffen's mind, leaping at her from the distant past, something stirred under the rippling water. Deep down at the bottom of the pool, in the murky layers where the past and the present merged– where the netherworld permeated the badger's world– something ancient awoke.
Stretching up from the mud, it tentatively tested the water, undefined and insubstantial at first, but intensifying as it became more confident.
It probed further, then rested.
Then, after gathering itself again, it quickly expanded outwards, slithering over
and through itself, cleaving rapidly upwards with coils of brightly coloured tendrils, until it filled the pool.
Soffen gasped as a stream of light exploded upwards from the water, spraying her with such force that she was sent stumbling backwards. Shading her face with a trembling paw, she watched in awe as points of brightness bobbed and weaved about the roof of the chamber. Greens and blues swirled urgently around her head, chasing each other like young cubs playing in a forest glade. Round and round they swirled, laced here and there with blood red and moon yellow, the colours contracting and expanding before merging into a bright point of light which exploded outwards again in a breathtaking display of energy.
Over and over again, until it made her head spin.
Soffen's eyes widened and the short bristles on her snout tingled as she watched the colours swirl through each other with such speed that they appeared solid.
Finally they formed a sphere, which then flattened itself into a large disc. The disc hovered in the air for a moment, then tilted sharply, presenting its circular face to her, its mid-section flashing and shimmering as it expanded outwards towards its circumference.
The boundary of the disc flickered, pulsing faster and faster, ruffling Soffen's fur with its energy, drawing her gaze to its very centre.
Soffen found herself staring through a portal into another world, where a faint light flickered, soft and fine, like the belly-fur of a newborn cub. The light grew, expanding slowly, stretching until it solidified into a recognisable form.
As Soffen staggered to the edge of the pool, drawn there by the image that was staring down at her– his soft smile wrinkling his snout in that familiar way that she knew so well– Soffen's heart beat faster and her stomach rolled, before emptying itself onto the floor.
The portal expanded even further, and Soffen was left staring into the blackest of black eyes, her breath coming in patchy gasps, a thin trickle of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth.
Then a single large tear rolled from her eye and down to the end of her snout before dropping off and hitting the now calm surface of the pool with a soft plop, rippling its surface outwards in an ever expanding circle.
Chapter 23
Darkburst was ravenous. His last meal, an adder that he'd stumbled across four moons earlier, was long digested.