"You feel the vision to be genuine!" Grey responded with sarcasm. "And on that fallacious evidence you expect me to chance everything. On the foundation of this fantasy, you expect me to throw away all the advantages I've built up over the seasons."
The stinging retort hurt Brock but he kept silent as Grey continued.
"Toss it away on some search that will prove to be utterly futile?" The old badger's voice was laced with the hard edge of anger.
Soffen stepped between them, trying to defuse the growing tension. "Grey, the only way to save Brockenhurst Sett is to find Boddaert's Magic. Listen to Brock, he's a Teller of The Way, he knows."
Grey turned away. "Yes, he's a Teller alright but that doesn't make him infallible."
Soffen tried to reason with the old Custodian. "Please Grey, listen to him. He's trying to help us."
Grey frowned. "So why involve me in this mad scheme of yours? If you already know what you have to do, do it and leave me out of it." Grey didn't miss the look that flashed between Brock and Soffen.
"Because the Legends only tell what happened to Boddaert's body, not the exact locations where his remains were hidden. We don't know where to search." Brock stared Grey straight in the eyes. "But those secrets lay on the Sacred Roots."
Grey began shaking his head, the rolls of fat down his flanks shimmering in response. "By Homer, Brock, but you've got a nerve. You ask that of me? No, I'll not do it. No!"
Soffen placed a paw on Grey's flank, gazing up at him. "We can't do this without you Grey. We need your help. You're the only one of us who has access to the Sacred Roots."
Grey backed away. "I've already taken a great risk on your behalf. Now you ask me to steal the Sacred Roots." His voice dropped to a whisper. "By Homer, if I do that, there'll be no future for me here, ever."
Soffen stamped her foot. "And what future do you think there'll be for you if we don't stop Brock's vision from becoming a reality? Tell me that badger!"
Brock's hard voice thrust between them. "And what would the Council say if they found out that a certain Custodian had kept information about a disfigured cub from them?" His eyes bored into Grey's. "How do you think they might react to that news?"
Grey glowered back at him. "You'd do that? After all the help I've given you? You'd really do that?"
Brock nodded slowly, glaring back at the Custodian intently. "If you forced me to, yes."
The old Custodian seemed to deflate for a moment, then sat back on his haunches, sniffing at the light breeze, wrinkling his snout as fresh scents impinged on his senses.
Spring had come, a time that heralded new beginnings. Maybe this was such a new beginning, he thought.
Sighing deeply, feeling somehow cheated, Grey shuddered, wondering if this would be the last time he'd see his beloved Brockenhurst Forest shake free from its winter mantle.
Chapter 9
"And this is the Great Chamber where I oversee the Council Meetings."
Darkburst could hear the ring of pride in the Preceptor's voice as he paraded Brockenhurst Sett's seat of power.
They had climbed the long sloping tunnel leading to the taproot chamber, talking animatedly as they went. Darkburst, a touch overawed at the prospect of seeing the legendary enclosure, stumbled to a stop at the edge of the opening and looked out into the colossal space spread out below him.
Head slowly moving from side to side, he drank in every detail– the large expanse of floor that still held the Magi's teeth-marks, even after all the generations of badgers who must have walked across its sanctified surface, the walls covered with deliciously intricate and delicate patterns, the vaulted ceiling that disappeared from view far above his head. Closing his eyes and drawing air into his lungs, Darkburst breathed in the atmosphere, imagining how it would feel to address the Council from such an exalted position of power.
The Preceptor came and stood alongside Darkburst, pointing at the vast chamber below. "Wherever you stand down there, you can hear every word spoken from up here. Such was the skill of Boddaert that even the quietest whisper will carry to the furthest corner."
Darkburst turned his back on the Great Chamber, allowing his gaze to wander over the walls of the taproot chamber. They were covered with innumerable small marks carved into the hard heartwood of the root, the rich patterns dazzling his eyes with a confusion of compelling shapes. Staring at them, he became a little dizzy.
"Come and stand here Darkburst." The Preceptor beckoned the young badger to the very centre of the taproot chamber. "Now, look carefully at the carvings on the wall over there."
Grindel pointed at a particularly tight-knit group of images, which appeared to flow upwards from the floor, following the gently curving grain of the heartwood.
As Darkburst stared at the carvings, his dizziness increased.
"Concentrate now. Concentrate really hard. That's it, let your mind take in the carvings," Grindel whispered from behind him.
Darkburst gasped when the carvings unexpectedly merged to become a view of Brockenhurst Forest. As he blinked, stumbling backwards in astonishment, the view of the forest vanished.
"A vision," he whispered through dry lips. "I saw a vision of the forest."
The Preceptor chuckled in delight, nodding his head eagerly. "Legend has it that these carvings were worked by Boddaert himself and possess magical properties which produce illusions if you stare hard enough. Though try as I might, I've never managed to see any." Grindel sounded disappointed as that observation left his lips.
Darkburst's eyes widened. "But yes, that's exactly what happened. I saw a scene of Brockenhurst Forest."
Grindel's smile broadened and he winked slowly. "Yes, I had an idea that you might."
"But why? Why would I see something that you cannot?"
"Because you're the son of a Healer, with the power of The Way running in your blood. If it would work for any badger, it should work for you."
"Can I try again? Please?"
The Preceptor chuckled. "Of course youngster but let's try another carving. Look, that one over there, perhaps you'll see something different this time."
"Is that possible?"
The Preceptor nodded at the carvings. "It is said that each of these carvings holds a different illusion. Though why that should be, I have no idea."
Darkburst stood in the centre of the chamber, staring hard at the carvings, eyes narrowed in concentration, excitement tightening his chest. And even though expecting it, the illusion that suddenly sprang out at him did so with such intensity that he gasped aloud.
Darkburst found himself looking at a small forest glade and he quickly realised that he had seen it before, had in fact played in this very glade as a cub. To one side, the rotting tree stump where he'd so often hidden from his mother when there were chores to do. And there, the tall elm he'd used to sharpen his claws, the long scratches still plainly visible in the bark.
Without conscious effort, Darkburst willed himself forward, moving further into the forest clearing, and even though he knew it to be impossible, every sense told him that he was walking on soft grass.
Concentrating harder, willing his body upwards, Darkburst was instantly transported high into the air. Upwards he flew, above the canopy of Brockenhurst Forest, swooping and gliding like a buzzard hunting prey, delighting in the sensation of the wind against his face.
Sweeping low over Fire Rock, he headed out beyond the trees to the sparkling waters of Migaro Lake, chasing shadows across the gentle swell of the water as he skimmed the surface. Turning back again, he laughed in exhilaration as he dived back and forth over the forest pathways, surging upwards into the clear sky, totally immersed in the thrill of flight.
"Darkburst!"
A muffled voice called from somewhere nearby.
"Darkburst! Darkburst!"
The voice held such intensity that he was snapped back.
Vision swirling, Darkburst fought to hold onto his illusionary world, but it slipped away and the feeling of overwhel
ming loss that unexpectedly crushed him, made Darkburst gasp, almost cry.
The Preceptor stood before him, concern lining his snout.
"What happened? I couldn't wake you. You seemed to be in some kind of trance."
The young badger laughed his delight, stumbling over his words. "It was so . . . so . . . well, amazing." Darkburst paused, unable to describe what had just taken place. "I flew high, high above the trees. Then low, low down over the water." But he knew this pathetic description fell far short of the ineffable journey he'd just undertaken.
"Well that's certainly very strange." Grindel patted the young badger's flank. "But don't make too much of it. After all, it's only an illusion when all's said and done."
"But I flew like a bird," Darkburst cried excitedly, still caught up in the wonder of the experience. "Over Fire Rock, to a lake in the far distance. Its surface sparkled in the moonlight. I was there!"
The Preceptor studied the young badger closely. "You hallucinated. You just imagined you were flying."
Darkburst was shocked that the Preceptor did not believe him.
Grindel relaxed, barking a short laugh. "Well that's some imagination you have there, youngster." Pointing at the carvings, he continued, "But these are just a collection of clever illusions. Don't let your imagination over-rule your sense."
Darkburst worried at his lower lip, thinking furiously. He knew what he had done and that it was no illusion. The Preceptor was wrong. As unthinkable as that was, the Preceptor was wrong.
He had flown high above the forest, even though his body had been stationary in the taproot chamber. He knew it to be true, because during the flight he'd seen his mother and sister talking together in the forest, and swooping low over them, had heard their words. There could be no mistake. It was no illusion, somehow he'd been in two places at the same time.
The young badger lowered his gaze to study the floor. He needed time to think this through.
"Well, perhaps you're right," he finally responded. "My mother's always telling me that I've got an over-active imagination."
The Preceptor smiled and nodded. "Tell me something Darkburst. How would you like to be Preceptor?"
"Me? Preceptor?" Darkburst could hardly talk at the thought. Too much was happening too quickly.
Grindel stared hard at the young badger, as though seeking some clue in his eyes. "I could make it happen, you know. Come on, what do you say? Would you like to be Preceptor?"
"Yes of course I would. Who wouldn't?" Darkburst replied, dazed at the thought. "But me . . . Preceptor?"
"You'd have to become a Custodian first of course, but I could arrange that quite easily."
"But why would . . ." The young badger stopped, staring at the Preceptor with a new understanding. "You're leaving, aren't you? You're going away somewhere."
Grindel smiled, a tight self-satisfied smile. Then shaking his head slowly, he said, "No, I'm not going away anywhere, but I do have other plans to pursue, plans that leave no room for the responsibilities of being Preceptor any longer."
"But I've no experience. Besides there's no opening for a Custodian on the Council."
A flicker of a smile crossed Grindel's lips as he let his gaze settle on some distant point only visible to him. "Oh, I think there'll be an opening for you before too long Darkburst."
"And you would train me?" Darkburst asked, wrinkling his snout in excitement, sensing the power he was being offered. But then another doubt crept into his mind. "Won't the other Custodians object? Surely one of them will expect to take over from you?"
"It's traditional for the Preceptor to select his own replacement. The Custodians have no right of objection, it's up to me who my successor will be." Grindel tipped his head to one side. "From all your objections," he continued in a serious tone, "one would think you don't want to be Preceptor."
Darkburst shook his head, bemused at the stunning offer being made. "I really don't know what to say."
"Thank you would be a good start," Grindel answered with a chuckle. "But before you fall over yourself with gratitude, I think I should warn you about something. There are certain conditions attached to my patronage." The Preceptor nodded at the uncertainty that suddenly flared in the young badger's eyes. "Oh don't worry, it's nothing you'll find too objectionable."
Grindel beckoned Darkburst to follow him, leading the young boar down onto the floor of the Great Chamber. Here, standing at the very centre of the vast space, he studied the youngster with a serious expression. When he finally spoke, his voice was grave, and Darkburst had to lean very close to catch the words.
"Darkburst, your mother and the badger called Brock are about to embark on a journey. They're going on a quest and their search will take them far from Brockenhurst Valley, but it is certain your mother will want you and your sister to go along." The Preceptor paused for a moment before continuing. "You must go with her, Darkburst. The journey will be long and arduous and very dangerous, so it's crucial you are there to protect your mother." He paused again, adding more weight to his next words. "The Teller, Brock, he's not to be trusted. He's a danger to your mother."
Darkburst fidgeted uncomfortably as the Preceptor's eyes pierced him with an intensity that made his head spin.
"He wants your mother dead."
The bald statement shocked Darkburst and his breath caught in his throat. "What do you mean?" he demanded.
"Exactly what I've just said, but don't repeat this conversation to anyone, doing so would only place your mother in greater danger. Do you understand me Darkburst? Say nothing."
When Darkburst nodded, Grindel relaxed a little.
"Good. Now listen carefully. Your mother is going to undertake a search for something very special. A dangerous treasure that has the power to destroy her and anyone else who touches it. So it's important that you find this treasure before any other badger does." Grindel's expression softened a little at the young badger's obvious apprehension. "Don't worry, a badger under my protection, as you are, can come to no harm. That's why you must go, to bring this treasure back here to me, to make it safe. Only I can do that, no other badger can. For them to even try would mean certain death. Do you understand?"
Darkburst nodded silently, and Grindel smiled. "Good," he said, "it will be your first step to becoming Preceptor."
"You want me to steal from my mother?" Darkburst asked in a tremulous voice.
Grindel shook his head. "Not steal, no. Protect. I only want you to protect her."
The young badger looked confused. "What is it Grindel, this thing that's so dangerous?"
"Don't concern yourself with that for now. When the time comes, you'll know. You'll need no telling."
Darkburst thought hard, going over all that Grindel had told him.
The Preceptor could see the questions forming in the young boar's eyes even before he asked them and moved closer, a grim expression creasing his snout.
"Listen carefully to me," he growled, thrusting his face so close that the young badger could smell the sour odour of his breath. "Under no circumstances are you to tell your mother that we have talked about this. Nothing you can say will stop her making this journey, it is pre-ordained, but forewarning her of its dangers will almost certainly lead to her death."
Grindel stepped in front of the pacing youngster. "I have things to attend to now. So quickly, tell me. Will you do as I ask?"
Darkburst nodded distractedly and Grindel smiled at him. "I think you're going to make an excellent Preceptor, Darkburst. You have a quick and adaptive mind. Now go to your mother and see to it that she's protected."
As Darkburst turned to leave, Grindel called to him. "Here, take this." He handed the young badger a small piece of root threaded on a length of twisted grass. "It's a Talisman, for good luck. Keep it close to you at all times and it will help you to protect your mother."
The Preceptor watched silently as the young badger left the Great Chamber, pleased with the results of the meeting. Such a simple badger. S
o trusting. He chuckled quietly, recalling Darkburst's response to the carvings in the taproot chamber.
What an imagination though. Flying indeed!
Grindel, still chuckling at that thought, left the Great Chamber, still so engrossed with the image that he failed to notice the dark figure skulking in the shadows of a side tunnel.
The shadowy figure growled low in his throat, scratching at his suppurating tail, watching Grindel disappear around a bend in the tunnel.
*
"But we need the Sacred Roots to know where to start our search," Brock argued heatedly.
Grey stared at him, his snout puckering as he leant forward. "It's all very well for you Brock, but you're not the one who has to steal them, are you?"
"But we can't afford to miss this opportunity. How often is a chance like this going to present itself? The Preceptor probably won't leave the sett again this season."
The old Custodian shook his head slowly. "I know that but I still don't like it."
Brock nodded his understanding. "But this is our only chance. We must take it."
"And what's the Preceptor going to do when he returns and discovers that I've stolen them?" Grey shot back angrily.
"Don't worry, we'll have them back in place long before he even knows they're missing. We only need them for a short time, just to start us off."
Soffen nodded her agreement. "He's right Grey. Brock will use them to find out where we need to search and then you can put them back."
Brock smiled at Soffen, thankful for her support. "Have you told Broshee and Darkburst about the trip we're making Soffen?" he asked, effectively dismissing any further objections from Grey.
Shaking her head, Soffen returned his smile. "No, not yet. I started to tell Broshee when we were in the forest but then I decided it would be better to wait until I had them both together." She sighed, looking around as though searching for something. "As usual Darkburst has disappeared somewhere again. He really does try my patience at times."
Grey sulkily plucked a tick from his leg and examined it, cracking the hard insect with his teeth. "I think I saw him with the Preceptor earlier on." He smiled contentedly at the reaction his words aroused.