"And go where!" Brokin snapped, his temper breaking through. "What badger would allow us to live anywhere near them?" Deep bitterness leant a hard edge to his voice.
"Yes I suppose you might be right," Drac admitted reluctantly, accepting the inevitability of the young badger's arguments. "But there'll be no unprovoked attack, understand that Brokin. Choose your fighters and train them well, but when you go to Brockenhurst Sett, it must be to negotiate, not to fight. Is that understood?"
*
Brokin was brought back from his reveries by the abrupt appearance of Thesa, his most skilful scout. The badger was completely black, even the skin on the inside of his ears and mouth so heavily pigmented that they matched his fur. This anomaly gave the scout a distinct advantage when he was out patrolling in the darkness of a moonless sky, moving through the undergrowth like a phantom unseen, until he spoke quietly into an unsuspecting ear. The badger's sombre eyes flashed excitedly as he reported his findings to Brokin.
"How many?" Brokin asked quickly, referring to the number of guards posted along the track leading into Brockenhurst Sett.
"Four are spread evenly along the main pathway and three more nearer to the sett itself," The black head swung around as his eyes focused on Brokin. "What's that?" he asked, nodding in the direction of a body lying amongst the roots of a nearby tree.
Brokin wrinkled his snout. "He was hiding behind the tree. He jumped out and attacked me as I passed by."
It was the first time Brokin had killed a fellow badger, and loath though he was to admit it, the experience had left him shaken. Forced to fight for his life, Brokin had quickly countered the unexpected assault, leaving his attacker with little choice but to parry the frenzied blows being rained upon him from every direction. Stumbling backwards, Brokin's assailant did his best to dodge the swiftly moving claws as they repeatedly raked across his snout, but with little success.
Sensing triumph, Brokin kept up the pressure, giving the boar little chance to recover, pushing him further backwards until he finally lost his footing on a slick stone. As the badger stumbled, Brokin darted forward, jamming his snout between the boar's front legs, powering upwards, flipping his attacker over onto his back, exposing the boar's vulnerable belly.
As the hapless badger thrashed about in a vain attempt at righting himself, Brokin made the final cutting-thrust with fully extended claws, suddenly finding himself covered in a warm sticky stream as the bright arterial blood pumped from deep within the badger's vitals.
The fatally injured boar lay on his side, moaning in pain until his eyes finally lost their sparkle of life.
Killing the boar had left Brokin completely deflated. When he'd been practising the killing thrust, high up on his favourite ledge above Badachro Sett, he'd always imagined he would experience jubilation when he finally used it in earnest– that he would be more alive, nearer to Her. In truth, he just felt cold and empty.
"Have you noticed how few guards there are about?" Thesa asked, interrupting Brokin's thoughts.
Brokin snapped the unpleasant memories away and studied the sky. "The sun will rise soon," he observed. "Perhaps they don't expect us to attack while the sun is high."
"Perhaps," the scout agreed, his voice reflecting his doubts.
Shaking off his feelings of ambivalence over the killing of the boar, Brokin gave the scout his orders.
"Prepare our forces to attack at sunrise. Make sure they know what's expected of them. After that, take three of our best fighters and clear the pathway ahead of any guards you find. Wait for me in the clearing by the broken oak tree, this side of the main earthworks."
Thesa nodded, then hurried off towards the edge of Brockenhurst Forest, where the main body of Brokin's forces rested.
As Thesa disappeared, Brokin settled down to wait for the first rays of the sun to appear in the sky, pondering on the colossal responsibilities that he'd undertaken, and whether he was right to go against the express wishes of the Elders.
He saw no sense in trying to negotiate with the likes of Cherva, that badger would only respect a show of strength.
*
Cherva made himself more comfortable in the fork of a gnarled elder tree and smiled. The cunning badger had settled himself in his high perch earlier, after one of his scouts had reported the movement of a great number of badgers across Low Meadow. Amongst them were a large number of boars with unusual markings, and Cherva had correctly surmised that this was the long awaited attack from Badachro Sett.
When winter finally broke its hold on Brockenhurst Forest, the Preceptor cautioned patience when Cherva had suggested that they launch an attack on Badachro Sett as soon as possible. The Preceptor had assured him that, given time, the troublesome badgers would come to Brockenhurst Sett, saving their own fighting force the trouble of a long trek out to Badachro, and he'd been right.
Here they were, the poor fools, walking straight into a well prepared trap. Cherva smiled contentedly, secure in the knowledge that he would soon rout the invading force and raise his credibility even further in the eyes of the Preceptor.
Studying the movements of the attacking force carefully, Cherva tried to determine a pattern. On reaching the outskirts of the forest, the long column had settled down amongst the thin covering of trees. A small party had then been sent forward to scout the land. Whoever was in charge of this ragtag band of losers was certainly taking no chances.
A moment of doubt clouded Cherva's eyes as it quickly became apparent that the leader of these boars was not stupid. Still that didn't really matter, because whoever it was, they were in for a big surprise when they attacked Brockenhurst Sett.
Cherva's eyes widened in consternation when he finally spotted the boar directing operations.
It was the same small badger who had attacked him during the last summer-cycle!
He'd somehow escaped from the two guards who'd been ordered to kill him. Cherva's anger rose but he pushed it from his mind. He needed to keep a clear head for the coming battle. Guile, not anger was needed right now.
As time passed, Cherva began to develop a grudging admiration for the diminutive leader of the opposing force as he darted hither and thither on his various tasks. The badger had posted guards at all the access points to the encampment, and had ordered scouts to continually circle the circumference, watching for signs of approaching badgers. They would not be taken by surprise, that much was certain.
Shifting his bulk to a more comfortable position, Cherva nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders at these precautions. All the worry and planning undertaken by this hothead leader and his harum-scarum band– the hard march from Badachro Sett, the time spent training– would be to no avail, because soon after they attacked the sett, they would die– every last one of them.
No badger would survive an attack on Brockenhurst Sett, the Preceptor's ingenious defences would make sure of that.
The clear liquid call of a skylark marked sun-break and Cherva nodded in satisfaction as the badgers encamped amongst the trees, stirred and began massing behind their leader. After a few moments confusion, the force set off in a column of threes. Better and better Cherva thought as he watched the sudden activity, they were going to attempt a direct frontal assault during the sun-cycle.
As the large band of badgers marched towards their destiny, the column passed directly beneath Cherva's hiding place and he stared down at them in contempt, picturing their lingering deaths in the coming battle.
As the last of the badgers disappeared from sight, Cherva climbed down to the ground and cautiously set off after them, hoping the sentries guarding the forest paths had been pulled back out of sight as he'd ordered.
*
Brokin halted his column as the forward scouts returned to report. The path ahead was clear, the sentries having withdrawn back to the sett at sun break. Brokin's heart lightened when he realised, that by some quirk of fate, he'd arrived at the precise moment that Cherva had decided to change his guards. He must make full use of th
is piece of luck.
The fighters hurried along the forest pathway behind their leader, their tramping feet swirling the dry surface sky-wards, so that those at the rear were forced to march through a thick cloud of dust. As the sky lightened and the first rays of sunlight pierced the trees with long, slender slivers of light, the wakening birds fell silent, disturbed by the activity in their midst.
All through the forest creatures paused in their activities, sensing some awesome event was taking place. The more timid ones bolted for their holes, or quickly crawled beneath the litter on the forest floor, where they waited in silent anticipation.
In the undergrowth lining the sides of the path, in foliage topping the graceful old trees, and in shallow pits dug in the forest floor– from all these places glinting eyes watched the passing badgers with a mounting excitement.
As the attacking boars passed by on their way towards battle, the hidden defenders slipped quietly out of their hiding places to join with those already stalking the column from the rear, and by the time that Brokin had halted his badgers at the broken oak tree, he was already trapped between Grindel's superior forces in the sett and Cherva's boars in the rear.
When the sun finally broke free of the horizon, Brokin ordered the storming of Brockenhurst Sett, watching proudly as his fighters streamed into the openings in the high walls of the earthworks. He was confident that under Thesa's command his brave boars would put up a strong fight.
Brokin was dividing his forces at this point: the main body of his fighters launching a frontal assault, while a small band of specially trained boars under his direct command, would enter the sett through the air vent at the rear.
As the last of the main force disappeared into the giant ramparts, Brokin and his small group set off on their own special mission.
The badgers entering the ramparts quickly found themselves lost in a network of confusing passageways. Blundering about in a vain attempt at finding the right path out of the maze, they only succeeded in disorientating themselves even further. Stumbling to a halt, they looked about in confusion, not sure what to do next.
Suddenly triumphant shouts filled the air and the sett's defenders, hidden along the tops of the walls, rose up, showering rocks down on the attackers from their vantage points.
The Preceptor ran back and forth amongst his garrison, striking them in his excitement, compelling them to greater efforts, even joining in the melee by rolling several stones over the edge onto the badgers below, shouting his delight when one particularly large rock smashed onto the back of a three legged boar, breaking his spine.
Far below Grindel, Thesa suddenly flitted into view, his black body making him almost invisible in the shadows of the high walls. Bending over the injured badger, he quickly examined the boar's terrible wounds. Then with a thrusting slash from his sharp claws, put a swift end to the fighter's unbearable pain.
After performing this act of mercy, Thesa glared up at the figure standing on the parapet above him, hatred and anger dancing in his black eyes.
The Preceptor stared back down at the apparition, a sudden chill running along his spine. Shaking off the feeling, he frantically rolled another rock up to the edge, heaving it over with a grunt, but he was far too late, because his target had already slipped away.
Thesa looked about as the stones and rocks hurtled down all around him. Already a large number of his badgers lay injured or dying, and in their panic, the rest were milling around aimlessly, which only added to their confusion and injuries.
Thesa stood pressed against one of the walls under a slight overhang, desperately seeking some way out of their plight. He knew that keeping his fighters confined in this exposed position for much longer would mean the death of every one of them.
He had to find a way out, and quickly.
Then he heard a shout from an intersection further along the passageway. Hurrying forward he stopped beside a bloodied boar who looked as though he was about to collapse. Too exhausted to talk, the badger merely pointed to a spot on the wall above his head.
Thesa saw some kind of mark had been dug into the wall and reared up on his hind legs to take a closer look. Examining it intently, his hopes revived when he saw the shape of a small footprint had been scratched into the hardened surface. Dashing to the next intersection, Thesa scouted about and quickly discovered that another footprint had been scratched there as well.
Could it be that some badger had marked a way through the maze? Yes that had to be it.
Having little choice, except to trust this deduction, Thesa stopped a passing badger and muttered an order into his ear. Word quickly spread amongst the fighters that a way had been found through the labyrinth, and those still able to, gathered about their leader.
The remnants of the fighting forces that had so confidently entered the labyrinth such a short time ago, was now blindly following the flitting black figure along the twisting passageways, doing their best to dodge the rocks still falling from above, hoping against hope that their path-finder knew where he was going.
After negotiating a series of twists and turns the fighters finally burst out of the convoluted corridors into a large semi-circular space fronting the main entrance of Brockenhurst Sett.
Unnerved by the sudden silence that had descended around him, Thesa studied the scene.
The defenders had disappeared from the walkways on top of the walls and he wondered what they had in store for him next. Looking over his tattered force, he realised that most of the badgers who'd entered the sett with him, were either dead, or so seriously injured as to be useless in further fighting. All who were left stood around him now in a dejected group and he felt the heavy burden of responsibility begin to weigh him down.
Even now, after all that had happened to them, these brave badgers were looking to him to lead them to victory. They trusted him totally, and he knew that he'd let them down badly. To make matters worse, not one of Grindel's defenders had so much as received a scratch.
The whole thing had turned into an unmitigated disaster. He'd been outwitted at every turn by a very clever badger who, given the chance, would have no compunction in killing every last one of them. Thesa fervently hoped that Brokin was having better luck.
As that thought formed in Thesa's mind the air was filled with the rumble of falling rock and his hopes soared as he guessed that Brokin had breached the rear of the sett. Perhaps they had a chance after all, they might be able to escape back through the labyrinth while the defenders attention was diverted with what was happening at the rear of the sett.
But that hope was quickly dashed when an enormous group of badgers spewed from the entrance of the sett ahead of them, and at the same moment, a yelling mob charged from the labyrinth behind.
Thesa's remaining forces found themselves trapped between these two groups with nowhere left to run.
*
Early on in his plans, Brokin had realised that a successful attack on Brockenhurst Sett would depend far more on stealth than numbers. The defences surrounding the sett would be impossible to storm successfully without a large loss of life, if at all.
Their only hope of a successful attack lay in, 'biting off the head of the snake'.
If Brokin could infiltrate the sett and kill the Preceptor while his main force was fighting at the front, then the headless snake would quickly wither and die.
When he had suggested his plan to the Elders, they were less than enthusiastic, preferring instead to wait for the Preceptor to attack them and hope that they could negotiate with him.
Brokin had argued long and hard, pointing out the difficulties they would face in trying to defend the caves. He was also faced with the further problem of trying to keep his fighters on top form.
They'd all expected the Preceptor to launch his attack as soon as the winter snows melted, but it was well into summer now, and still no attack had materialised. Brokin's fighters were losing their edge. If he waited much longer they might well loose the will to fig
ht altogether.
In the end Brokin managed to persuade the Elders to see sense, but it had been touch and go for awhile.
Even so, the Elders had only given him permission to negotiate with the Preceptor, not attack the sett.
From his previous visit to Brockenhurst Sett, Brokin knew the biggest weakness in the Preceptor's defences lay in the air vent he'd already penetrated. He planned to take a small group of badgers through this vent while Thesa kept the defenders busy at the main entrance. Once inside, he would seek out the Preceptor and kill him. That was the only form of negotiation the badger would be offered– it was the only form of negotiation he understood.
As the shouts and screams of the badgers fighting in the labyrinth echoed to him from the thick canopy overhead, Brokin moved his small group through the undergrowth parallel to the pathway leading to the air vent. This was familiar territory and they made good progress.
Suddenly Brokin spotted two sentries lurking in the bushes and waved his party to a halt. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the guards carefully. There was no way of bypassing these two without being seen, so they would have to be killed . . . or perhaps not.
Waving his group back out of sight, Brokin readied himself with a few deep breaths. Then, when his mind was calm, he stepped from the undergrowth and down onto the pathway.
As he began walking towards the guards, he hummed loudly to himself as though he hadn't a care in the world. When he drew level with the guards, one broke cover and hailed him.
Brokin jumped in simulated surprise, stumbling to a stop. Adopting his most ingratiating smile, he turned towards the guard.
"Oh thank goodness I've found you!" he said in a breathless voice, waving a tremulous paw in front of his snout.
The guard, taken by surprise at the badger's apparent innocence, stared at him suspiciously.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" he demanded.
"Cherva sent me," Brokin replied, managing to sound hurt at the guard's gruff tone. "We're under attack at the front of the sett. Listen, can't you hear all the noise?"
Hopping from foot to foot, Brokin pulled at his ear in agitation.
"Oh dear, please come quickly," he pleaded. "Cherva sent me to get you and if you don't come straight away he'll punish me horribly. You know what he's like."