The old Custodian's anger, full of venom and bitterness, caught Darkburst totally by surprise and he stepped back warily.
Brock thrust his head out of the burrow. "Hold on Grey, what's all the shouting about?"
"Ask him," the old boar roared, nodding in Darkburst's direction.
When Grey had finally calmed down, Darkburst explained to everyone how he'd seen the bright sphere of light by using the Sacred Roots, and how, within that sphere, the vision of the meadow had appeared to him, and how he'd seen the Andith River flowing into a large lake, and how beyond the lake, the bright stars had raced across the sky.
Grey snorted at Darkburst's tale and turned away, wandering off into the undergrowth, his anger hardly suppressed.
"No, leave him be," Soffen said as Brock made to follow him. "he'll be back when he's calmed down a bit."
Chapter 11
"What's wrong Grey?"
Broshee had dropped back to check on the old Custodian when she saw how far he'd dropped behind the others. She thought he'd become very morose since the decision to push on to the lake had been taken by Brock.
Grey shook his head, smiling at her. "Nothing's wrong Broshee, I'm fine. Just feel a bit tired, that's all." He blew out his cheeks. "It must be all this extra weight I'm carrying around."
They were travelling a barely discernible path that meandered along the bank of the Andith River, searching for a place where they could cross, and Broshee wondered if they would ever find one. Suddenly she stopped, cocking her head towards the river.
"What's that splashing noise?" she asked.
Grey listened for a moment, then smiled and winked. "Unless I'm very much mistaken—"
Walking to the edge of the bank the old Custodian looked down into the water. The river was calmer here, quietened by a large sand-bar on the curve of the bank.
"Ah, just as I thought," he whispered, beckoning Broshee closer. "Come and look, but keep very quiet. See, there."
Broshee gasped in delight as a lithe silver body sped away from her with a flick of its tail.
"You're shadow frightened it," Grey explained quietly. "Stand back from the edge a bit."
"But what is it?"
"Hush, not so loud. It's a fish and if we keep very quiet, it should come back."
They waited patiently, staring down into the water, and suddenly there it was again, swimming gently in the lee of the sandbank. With a flick of its tail the fish edged nearer to the bank and Grey, moving with a speed that caught Broshee by surprise, plunged his paw deep into the river.
Grey hooked the fish out onto the bank where it landed with a wet thwack, flipping its body in urgent arcs as it tried to re-enter the water. Holding the fish between his paws, he bit into its back, killing it with a swift twist of his head.
Broshee sniffed dubiously at the soft white flesh. It looked appetising enough but she was not quite brave enough to try it. After Grey began eating the fish with obvious relish, Broshee nibbled at a small piece. Pleasantly surprised by the flavour, she quickly set about finishing her portion.
After completing their unexpected meal, Grey buried the remains, and the pair set out after the others.
Following the trampled grass through the gently undulating landscape, they walked on in silence for some time.
"Grey?" Broshee finally broke the quiet mood.
"Yes?"
"I know mother and Brock are looking for Boddaert's Magic but what is it exactly?"
"That's a little difficult to explain." Grey was silent for a moment, then said, "The Legends tell us that a powerful magic resided within Boddaert and it remained in his body after he died. So I suppose it must be his body."
Broshee shook her head. "But that's silly. I mean his body would have rotted away to nothing by now, wouldn't it?"
Grey smiled at the young sow and nodded. "Yes, you're right of course, but perhaps the Legend isn't meant to be taken quite so literally."
"You mean it might just be a story and the magic doesn't really exist at all?" Broshee hesitated, placing a paw on Grey's flank. "But then what is it that mother and Brock are looking for? I mean, if it's all just a story, what are we doing here?"
Grey shook his head and walked off. "By Homer, Broshee. Will you stop asking silly questions and get a move on. Your mother will be worrying about what's happened to us."
Broshee frowned, trying to make sense of what Grey had told her as she followed his swaying figure.
*
At that moment, Broshee's mother had other things on her mind. Along with the rest of the group, Soffen was looking into the dark opening of a tunnel. The ground where they stood dropped away sharply from the river. The bank was covered with large clumps of nettles and they would have missed the tunnel completely if Darkburst had not disturbed a field mouse which had then darted into the darkness for safety.
Brock shouted into the opening, listening carefully to the echoes.
"It sounds as if it goes a long way, maybe even right under the river to the other side," he said.
"Where have Broshee and Grey disappeared to Darkburst?" Soffen demanded.
"I don't know mother, perhaps they stopped for a rest or something."
Soffen began to worry. "Brock, Grey and Broshee aren't here, let's go back up the rise and wait for them, otherwise they might miss us. We can explore this tunnel later."
Brock nodded his agreement, but Darkburst, showing the impatience of youth, didn't want to delay his exploration of this exciting find.
"Mother why don't I take a quick look to see if the tunnel does reach to the other bank? It will save us time later if I look now."
Soffen glanced at Brock, who shrugged.
"Well if you promise not to be gone for too long," she replied.
Darkburst nodded eagerly, setting off into the tunnel, already creating all sorts of adventures in his mind. Perhaps he would find a monster that lived under the river, or some ancient lost treasure, or a beautiful sow that needed rescuing.
Maybe even Boddaert's Magic itself!
*
The tunnel was unnaturally straight, the walls smooth and unblemished. Scratching at the concave surface, Darkburst grunted in annoyance when all that he managed to do was break off the tip of one claw. Ignoring the uneasy fluttering in his stomach, he made his way further into the tunnel, pulled along by his excitement.
The whispering echoes of claws on the hard surface accompanied him, causing Darkburst to constantly stop and look back over his shoulder, ready to run at a moments notice, convinced that something might well be following him.
Stepping up his pace, Darkburst convinced himself that he was doing so because he wanted to find out if the tunnel reached the far side of the river as quickly as he could, not because of some imagined monster that might be hiding in the dark shadows, ready to jump out at him. And with this thought held firmly in mind, he pushed onwards along the tunnel, the eerie whispers following him lending an extra urgency to his movements.
After some distance, the surface of the tunnel began oozing small droplets of water that gathered into small wriggling rivulets, which trickled down to the floor, where they collected into large puddles.
Further in the walls were rougher, and Darkburst began to notice small cracks appearing here and there. These grew in number as he progressed, until the whole tunnel was crazed with them. As he advanced further, the floor began to slope downwards, causing the puddles to join into a steadily deepening pool.
Darkburst pushed on, ignoring the cold cloying touch of the water as it moved higher up his legs, but by the time it had reached halfway up his body, the young cub began to feel cold and tired.
Pulled along by alluring whispers emanating from somewhere ahead, Darkburst quickened his pace. The whispers had begun quietly, almost unheard, like a soft wind blowing through grass– a gentle rustle overlain with drawn-out sighs. But as time passed, it took on a different sound, not that of a voice exactly, but something close. Growing in strength, it ca
ught his imagination with promises of hidden delights.
The water, much deeper here, continued to rise until it had almost filled the tunnel with its wet embrace. Darkburst struggled onwards, forced to swim now, his nose thrust into the small pocket of air trapped against the roof. He was finally forced to a halt when the tunnel completely filled with water.
Backing up a few strokes, Darkburst floated with his nose brushing the roof, breathing heavily. As the water slopped up and down his snout, he considered returning to the others, but quickly pushed the thought away
He couldn't do that. If he gave up now, he would look weak. He had no choice, he would have to press on to the other side.
With a beating heart, Darkburst took a deep lung-full of air and ducked beneath the surface again, staring at the lighter patch of water further along the tunnel that marked the place where the floor rose again– the other side of the blockage.
It seemed tantalisingly close. If he swam quickly he should be able to reach it with no trouble. Why was he hesitating, he could do this.
Poking his nose back up into the air space, Darkburst took another deep breath, then set off through the murky darkness, concentrating all his efforts into his flailing legs.
Darkburst swam with strong strokes, his back bumping along the roof of the tunnel, guiding him through the darkness. Staring intently at the lighter patch of water ahead, he paddled his feet through the cold liquid, relieving the, pressure in his lungs by trickling small bubbles of air from his mouth.
But the swim was taking much longer than he'd anticipated, and a funny buzzing sensation had begun in his ears.
Darkburst pressed forwards, quickening his strokes, but all too soon the last of the air trickled from his mouth and he began to panic.
With bulging eyes and swirling vision, he struggled on. The tunnel walls seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeats as he thrashed his way forwards, swimming as he had never swum before. Digging his paws deep into the cold liquid, he fought against the water, trying to gain speed, but with each passing moment his lungs became tauter and heavier, his throat bulging with the effort of not breathing.
The young cub was finding it harder and harder not to open his mouth and gulp in the filthy water. The compulsion to breathe was so overpowering now that he began thrashing about in desperation, heart hammering as he rolled onto his back and began scrabbling at the roof in a desperate search for air.
A thin line of blood laced the water around him as a claw was torn loose from his foot. It slowly drifted away, along with his strength.
Darkburst's last conscious thoughts were a collection of fleeting images of his mother standing in a clearing deep within Brockenhurst Forest, her head tilted to one side as she listened to the liquid, switt-witt-witt-witt of a goldfinch singing in a nearby tree.
As the likeness of his mother faded from his mind's-eye, Darkburst finally gave up his struggles and hung unmoving in the water– a buzzard hanging on a warm updraught of air– his body gently swaying to and fro, the fur along his flanks swirling in unison with the eddies caressing him.
Then slowly, silently, the young cub's body sank to the mud-covered floor, where it lay quite still.
*
Their worried voices overlapped with echoes, making it difficult to talk.
"But he must be in here. If he had come out, we'd have seen him."
Brock placed a paw on Soffen's flank, doing his best to calm her. "Perhaps he decided to swim right through to the other side," he suggested quietly. "He might be there now, waiting for us, so that he can boast about how clever he's been."
"Do you really think so?" Soffen asked, grasping at the hope these words brought her.
"Yes, I'm sure of it. Come on, let's go back outside and see if we can spot him on the other bank."
Soffen shook her head slowly, knowing from the tightness in her chest that something was terribly wrong.
"No Brock," she whispered, her tone tearing at the Teller's heart. "You go if you like, I'm staying here, just in case he decides to swim back."
Left on her own, Soffen listened to the footsteps dying away up the tunnel, castigating herself for allowing her cub to explore this place unaccompanied. Something had happened to him, she knew it with a certainty that only a mother could know.
Sitting at the water's edge she patted the cold dark surface, whispering her cub's name over and over, lost in a grief which threatened to crush her.
In the cloying darkness a small creature twitched its nose nervously, disturbed by the steady slapping sounds. Keeping tight to the tunnel wall the mouse quickly slipped away, oblivious to the events that it had set in motion.
Chapter 12
Brock waited a further moon before suggesting that they resume their journey, not because the delay might help them to discover what had happened to Darkburst– that hope had quickly disappeared– but because he couldn't bring himself to ask Soffen to leave her lonely vigil.
The Healer had lain by the water's edge throughout the rest of the long moon and the following sun, shivering in the cold, waiting for her cub to return.
Brock had gone to Soffen that first moon, suggesting that he might swim through the water-filled tunnel to see if he could find any sign of her young cub but she had become so agitated at this suggestion that Brock quickly dropped the idea.
"Isn't it enough that Darkburst should drown," she had shouted at him, "without you doing the same?"
Brock finally left to joined Grey on the riverbank, leaving Soffen to resume her solitary watch, unaware that her daughter sat a short way off sharing in her anguish.
Broshee had matured quickly during the winter and was not the same self-centred youngster that had romped through Brockenhurst Forest such a short while ago.
Broshee lay quietly now, watching her mother rock back and forth in an endless ritual of grief. Sighing heavily to herself, she clenched her teeth, trying to keep the tears from filling her eyes, her feelings ambivalent; her longing to comfort her mother, offset by her anger at being shut out.
Darkburst had always been the favourite, she'd known that from an early age, but right now she needed to share her grief, to hold her mother closely, and try to fill the dark emptiness growing inside her.
Broshee's quiet words echoed through the darkness. "Mother, its time to go now."
Soffen shook herself, pulling her mind back from the far off place it occupied. "Yes Broshee, you're right. I must be strong for Darkburst now, mustn't I?"
Broshee felt a shard of ice pierce her heart. "Come on mother," she urged, "the others are waiting for us."
Soffen appeared not to hear, staring intently at the water instead, but finally she tore her gaze away, looking over at Broshee, her eyes glistening in the dim light.
"Yes Broshee, there's no point waiting any longer is there? Darkburst has gone and . . ." Soffen faltered, too overwhelmed to continue.
Broshee squeezed the fullness from her eyes, running to her mother, nuzzling gently at her neck, trying to comfort her, but she was unable to bring her mother the comfort she so desperately needed.
Turning aside Broshee ran from the tunnel, standing just outside the entrance wondering when the pain would stop.
"Broshee, how's your mother?" Grey called from the riverbank.
Tossing her head angrily, Broshee squeezed her eyes tight shut, locking in the tears, determined not to show her hurt. Even Grey was more concerned about her mother than how she might be feeling!
"Broshee . . . Broshee wait!"
Brock stopped Grey as he started after the young sow. "Leave her be. She's obviously very upset. I expect she wants to be alone."
"Do you think Soffen will be alright?" Grey turned back to stare at the tunnel. "Perhaps it would be better if we just gave up this ridiculous search and went back to Brockenhurst Valley?"
Brock frowned. "And do you want to be the one to suggest that to Soffen? Tell her that Darkburst has died for nothing? That she should just give up the search for Bodd
aert's Magic and creep back to Brockenhurst Sett in defeat?"
Turning away Brock studied the starlit sky, pushing his anger away. The moon broke through the thin covering of clouds, bathing them both with its silvery embrace. It seemed so unfitting that this moon, of all moons, should be such a beautiful one.
*
It had taken the small group a long hard trek to find a place where they might cross the Andith River. A tree on the opposite bank had fallen into the water, almost spanning the fast flowing torrent, stopping just short of where they now stood, leaving a short, but impassable gap.
"We can't chance wading across to the tree in this," Brock shouted above the noise of the raging spume-flecked water. "We'd all be swept away and drowned. We'll have to find something that will reach from the bank to the tree."
A short time later they were all gathered back on the riverbank, where collected by the water's edge were, three thick branches, a collection of thin switches, a pile of strong grasses, and a large piece of bark.
Laying the branches in a row, Brock wove the switches cross-wise through them, and when he was satisfied that the makeshift platform was strong enough, the four badgers carefully eased it out over the water until its far end rested on the trunk, bridging the gap perfectly. Next Brock placed the piece of bark on top, securing it with lengths of twisted grass.
Standing back to examine his work with a critical eye, he nodded. "It should be strong enough to take our weight if we cross one at a time."
Brock was the first to try the makeshift arrangement, weaving extra sticks into the structure as he went, giving it added stability. Soffen and Broshee crossed next, each moving quickly, their hearts in their mouths. Finally, Grey took a deep breath and stepped out onto the rough surface.
The platform bobbed under his weight and, not for the first time, the old Custodian wished he were not so heavy. As he reached the middle of the span the structure sagged, bouncing in time with his movements, and Grey's progress quickly became a series of slow, uncoordinated lurches. Twice he nearly lost his footing, only to recover and stagger on.