Fire Rock Page 4

  In the time it had taken her to scramble over the slippery slopes forming the lower regions of Fire Rock, darkness had fallen, and now a cold moon mottled the landscape, picking out the pathway ahead with bold shadows: foreboding phantoms that only added to her sense of unease.

  When Soffen finally reached the upper slopes, she found another hazard waiting there. Water, cascading down from the higher escarpments, made the going treacherous and she was forced to make many detours, pushing herself to the limit, aware that time was running out. If she was late in reaching her goal—

  Soffen quickly discarded that thought, the outcome was far too alarming to contemplate.

  The higher Soffen climbed, the louder the thunder became, mounting in intensity until its echoes crashed and pounded through her head, reverberating in her chest like a worrisome cough. She struggled on, clawing her way up the slippery slope, driven upwards by a force that she only half-understood.

  Soffen finally staggered onto the summit of Fire Rock and could do little more than collapse onto its hard surface in a heap, trying to recover her strength.

  Painfully finding her feet, she carefully picked up the small sodden cub and reeled her way out across the plateau, ducking instinctively as another peal of thunder crashed directly overhead. Squinting her eyes against the harsh lightning that constantly seared the top of the mountain range, she carefully lay her cub at the very centre of the ancient rock.

  Struggling to keep her feet in the buffeting wind, Soffen pulled a cord of twisted grasses from around her neck, examining the lodestone threaded onto it. Her father had given it to her, just before his death. She knew it to be a powerful and dangerous device; one of the keys to the Dark Healing. Holding it always brought back bitter-sweet memories of her father. Turning it over, she recalled the time she'd listened in rapt fascination as he had explained its magical powers.

  The lodestone had sparked so brightly when her father struck it against another stone, a miniature version of the sheet lightning cascading about her right now. Soffen had watched in awe as he displayed how the lodestone always turned to face the same direction when floated on a piece of bark in water.

  Now, other than dim memories, the loadstone was her only link with her dead father; the last of the powerful tools he had used during his years as a Healer.

  Rolling her cub onto its back, Soffen placed the lodestone between his tiny paws, flinching as another clap of thunder crashed over the plateau, shaking the ground beneath her feet. The loud, rolling rumbles sweeping overhead tossed surges of bright light from sky to earth with eye-stinging brightness.

  Soffen forced her weary way back to the rim of the plateau, where she lay huddled in the downpour, anxiously waiting for the Dark Healing to work its magic.

  For a long time nothing happened and she began to fidget apprehensively. But then it came, so fast that she almost missed it and it was only the flickering after-image burnt into her eyes that allowed her to follow the bright bolt of lightning cleaving down through the air.

  A jagged brightness hurtled from the clouds, engulfing the lodestone and her precious cub in a fierce blue-white light that crackled and danced over the tiny juddering body. Even from where she lay, at the very edge of the plateau, Soffen could feel the enormous surge of heat thrown out by the aura dancing around her cub.

  Eyes wide with terror, she moaned, watching as her cub disappeared beneath the intense combustion.

  Then the storm ceased.

  Not slowly, as is usual with such tempests, or even intermittently, as is sometimes the case, but instantly, immediately– from rage to calm, violence to stillness– as though suddenly frightened by the enormity of what it had done on Fire Rock.

  Soffen's ears were left ringing by the stunning silence that unexpectedly fell over the plateau.

  As the clouds broke and the moon washed the whole scene with bright light, Soffen trembled, too scared to move or think. She could only stare at the spot where a moment before her cub had been caressed by the life force of the angry storm.

  Then spurred on by a desperate need to know, Soffen moved, her steps, shuffling and unsteady at first, rapidly gathered speed, until she was running flat out, streaking towards the smoking remains that had been her cub.

  Chapter 5

  Brock woke with a start to find himself lying on a soft bed of moss with a sleeping cub between his forefeet. Wrinkling his nose, he carefully withdrew his paws from beneath the small cub nestled on top of them and got up.

  Dismissing the remnants of the dream still lingering in his consciousness– a strange dream in which he'd been flying through a bright moonlit sky, so real he was reluctant to leave the delights of swooping low over glades and rolling hills– Brock looked around.

  The chamber he found himself in was damp and cold and he looked about for clues as to who the owner might be, wondering how he'd got here. Checking that the cub was still asleep, Brock headed for the surface, seeking some answers.

  Moving up the sloping entrance tunnel, Brock became aware of a storm raging outside and it stimulated his memory: the old badger he'd met on the forest path, the sow who'd given him a horrible tasting potion, the euphoric feeling that had followed. They all came flooding back in a rush, crowding in on him, a kaleidoscope of confusing emotions.

  Rounding a corner in the tunnel, Brock was confronted by the same old badger that he'd met on the path.

  "You're awake then," Grey greeted him. "I was about to come down and check on you. Are you feeling better now?"

  Brock nodded, watching narrow eyed, as the old badger cocked his head.

  "Can you hear that?" Grey asked.

  Brock listened hard. "I can hear the storm," he answered.

  Grey turned his back on Brock, looking out into the forest. "Perhaps I felt it rather than heard it then. Didn't you hear anything at all?" he asked, looking back at Brock over his shoulder.

  "Something," Brock acknowledged reluctantly, "Yes perhaps something."

  Grey nodded. "I'm sure it's got something to do with Soffen."

  Brock frowned. "You're the Custodian that I met in the forest, aren't you?"

  Grey nodded his agreement and Brock wrinkled his snout.

  "It's Grey, isn't it? Yes, I remember now. But who is this Soffen?"

  Grey rolled his eyes. "Yes I'm sorry, you probably don't remember her. Not surprising really, the state you were in. She's our Healer. She helped get you back here, then treated you. This is her burrow."

  "Soffen is the female who gave me that strange tasting herb back in the forest?"

  Grey barked a short laugh, his snout creasing with fine lines. "Yes, that's right. You do remember then?"

  A bolt of lightning tore through the dark sky, making both badgers jump, and as Brock blinked the after-image away, the smell of ozone filled the tunnel.

  The pair stared out into the forest, amazement widening their eyes. In the time that it had taken the lightning to flicker and die, the storm had vanished, the only reminder, a muted split-splat of raindrops falling from leaf to leaf.

  "But this is impossible!" Grey's voice was full of awe.

  Brock followed Grey out into the calm air, looking about in amazement.

  "How can this be? A storm can't just stop like this. What's happening?" Tilting his head back, Brock scented the air, which was full of strange aromas. "Do you think this has something to do with your Healer?"

  Grey nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm sure it has." His voice was loaded with scorn.

  "Where did she go?"

  "I don't know. She just asked me to look after you and her cub, then went off out into the storm. That reminds me, I'd better go down and check if the cub's alright."

  Once Grey had disappeared, Brock made his way out amongst the trees of the ancient forest, and standing up on his hind legs, rested his forepaws on the trunk of an elm, directing his thoughts into its essence, using the powers of The Way to seek connection.

  Brock kept his position without moving for a long t
ime, his snout furrowed in concentration, funnelling all his energies into the tree, as, moving from ring to ring, he hunted through its memories. And there, near the centre, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the forest's communal life force.

  At first it was hesitant and disjointed, channelled as it was through the slender trunk, but it became clearer the further he reached. In the dim and distant adumbration, Brock finally detected the dying energies of the storm as it coiled in upon itself, and he saw that it had been no ordinary storm, linked as it was to The Way, fashioned by the Prime Mover to fulfil a task as yet unexplained.

  Snatching away his paws, Brock dropped to his feet, trying to shrug off the feeling of doom that had suddenly enveloped him.

  Making his slow way back to the burrow, he wondered why the Healer's image still floated at the back of his mind.

  Grey stopped playing with the cub when Brock entered the chamber, looking a little embarrassed.

  "The cub's fine," he said, as though in answer to an unasked question. "Just a bit frightened by all the thunder, that's all."

  Brock ignored Grey's remarks, stopping just inside the entrance as a sudden thought struck him. All the things that had been happening– the fire, the meeting with Grey, the peculiar storm, even his treatment by the Healer– they were all bound together, somehow preordained, outside his control.

  He'd been meant to come here. But to what end?

  "Grey, I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but there's something I have to do in private. Would you mind leaving me alone for awhile?"

  Grey gave Brock a thoughtful look, then nodded slowly, leaving the chamber. But once out of sight, he slipped back, his curiosity aroused.

  Once Grey had departed, Brock dropped into a light trance. Regulating his breathing, as he'd been taught when a neophyte, he calmed his mind, allowing the special technique to circulate air in and out of his lungs in one continuous motion. This had the effect of saturating his blood with oxygen, deepening his trance.

  Brock began to feel the familiar light-headedness that preceded Union and quickly channelled his thoughts into the complex patterns necessary to enter the First Path of The Way.

  In his mind's eye, Brock joined his being with the Prime Mover, rapidly expanding his consciousness until he was filled with Her essence. Welcoming Her vastness into his mind, he immersed himself into Her wholeness, falling deeper into his trance, becoming one with the cosmos.

  Entering the next path, he left behind his links with the physical world and his breathing began to falter, at times, almost cease altogether. Unmindful of his collapsed body trembling on the damp floor– far outside his control now– Brock continued to travel the paths of The Way.

  From his hiding place just outside the chamber entrance, Grey watched Brock collapse. Hurrying to the Teller's side, he saw the young boar was in a state of deep trance. He leaned closer, fascinated by the strange way the young badger was breathing.

  Along with his fellow Custodians, Grey had spent many a long winter-cycle discussing this very phenomenon but had never been lucky enough to witness it. This was a unique opportunity and he was determined to take full advantage of it. He watched the trembling Teller closely, aware that Brock's mind was now lost amongst the legends and experiences that formed Boddaert's continuum.

  Brock had reached the stage known as Shar, where the mind is free from all physical sensation, existing only as pure thought, able to mingle and meld with the thoughts of others. Always a little frightened at this point, fearful that the next step might caste him adrift into an apogee from which there would be no return, he allowed the last tenuous link with the physical world to slip away, entering a mindset where all events fused together to become Now.

  At the sixth path, Brock floated over the collective memories of his race, dipping his mind into the passing elements, as a badger might dip a grass-stem into a wasp's nest to extract the honey hidden there. Immersing himself deeply, he tried to locate a time-line but the elements were a jumbled madness.

  This had never happened before and Brock became uneasy, gathering strength from about him, attempting to cross the threshold to the next path. But something was blocking The Way– a shadow on the fringes of his consciousness. Slipping back to a lower path, Brock collected himself and waited.

  Such a swirling confusion was experienced when slipping from pathway to pathway, that during training, many neophytes became disorientated, some so badly they never recovered. Many had likened the feeling to that of a spider riding a twirling sycamore seed in a summer storm.

  Grey studied the unconscious Teller closely, searching for any small clues that might help him understand the process at work. The Custodians had tried to uncover the techniques used by the Tellers in the past, believing such knowledge would give them the means to better control the destiny of Brockenhurst Sett. And they may well have succeeded, had their Preceptor not forbidden it.

  Now Grey had a unique opportunity to gain control of the knowledge that would help him to build his own power base. He leant closer, the tension building in his chest. But the young badger's eyes suddenly snapped open and Grey was drawn into a deep pool of blackness that both fascinated and frightened him.

  The pupils of the Teller's eyes rapidly grew in size until they encompassed the whole of Grey's world, and as he fought to tear his gaze from the emptiness yawning before him, the old badger's breathing became more and more laboured, awaking emotions he did not understand; writhing ribbons of redness that licked at the corners of his mind with a harsh hunger.

  Grey suddenly found himself fighting for his sanity, beating at the tenuous images swirling within his mind, as jostling for attention, they sped around his thoughts with a frenzy that churned his stomach. Whispering seductive promises. they beckoned him nearer to the chasm, slipping him away from reality, merging him with their madness.

  In that last few moments, Grey relived parts of his life that he'd thought banished forever. Memories he had no wish to reawaken. Memories that should have stayed buried until his final meeting with the Prime Mover.

  But now they welled up, out of the deepest recesses of his mind, answering the call of the darkness raging within his head.

  The old Custodian began to let go, to join with the oneness, a part of him welcoming the darker edges. Then, suddenly, the contact was broken and Grey staggered back, rapidly blinking his eyes.

  Brock had come out of his self-hypnosis, too disorientated to notice the Custodian's distress. He'd learnt little while in his trance and that had shaken him.

  He turned to Grey, a red tinged darkness still glazing his eyes.

  "I need to see the Council. At once," he growled.

  *

  Soffen approached the centre of the plateau, terrified at what she might find, her mind in a whirl. She'd been wrong to evoke such a dark force, to place such faith in her dead father's powers. And now she'd paid the ultimate price: her cub's life.

  Bright moonlight reflected from the smooth surface of the stone, highlighting the sheer rock wall to the north. A jagged peak threw a dark shadow across the small form lying on the cold unyielding surface. Soffen was forced to squint through the smoke filled air to catch sight of her cub. The lodestone had been shattered into tiny fragments by the lightning, and beside the fragments, a small body lay, quite still.

  As the harsh reality bit into her churning stomach, a huge weight bore down on Soffen and she shook from head to tail. But then to her utter astonishment, the small form moved. Raising its head, it mewed weakly at her.

  Picking her cub up, Soffen gasped in delight as it squirmed in her grip. Moving towards the edge of the plateau she examined it with great excitement, and there, beneath the blackened fur, saw a lighter layer of soft silver-grey. Heart thumping, eyes full of tears, Soffen reached out a trembling paw, lightly touching the black nose, the black pads of the tiny feet. Then, blinking back her tears, she finally stared into liquid brown eyes.

  Halfway along the tortuous path leading down from the
high plateau, Soffen was suddenly overcome by a tiredness she could no longer ignore. Taking shelter by a large rock, she rested, her cub snuggled between her forepaws. Even though she was weak and exhausted, Soffen began grooming her cub's new coat, sighing deeply when it whickered and snuggled into her side. Humming a song that her mother had taught her long ago, Soffen continued to comfort her cub with soft caresses and tender words.

  "And what shall we call you, my little lovely, with those beautiful bold stripes?" Smiling as a name popped into her head, Soffen nodded to herself. "Darkburst! Yes, that's it. Darkburst it shall be then."

  Happy to have found such a suitable name for her cub, Soffen continued her caresses.

  She was whole and content at last, but unaware that she had started a chain of events that would shake the very foundations of Boddaert's Realm itself.

  Chapter 6

  "The Council will attend to business." The Custodian's booming voice floated out to Brock as he waited in the antechamber.

  Unable to hide his impatience, Brock paced back and forth restlessly while the badgers inside the Great Chamber discussed the affairs of the sett. Wrinkling his snout in irritation, Brock tried to calm himself, realising he could do nothing to hurry the process taking place just a few steps away in the main chamber.

  What sort of badgers were these to treat him in such a manner? Back home a visitor would have been made welcome, be given some worms and a comfortable burrow in which to rest.

  Brock quickly pushed these thoughts aside, bringing as they did, too many painful memories. Ceasing his agitated pacing, he sat on his haunches and began rehearsing what he was going to say to the Council when they finally summoned him. It was important that he got this right.

  Finally, after an interminable wait, came the words that Brock was waiting to hear.

  "Custodians, a visitor to our sett is outside. He has asked permission to speak to the Council." Brock did not miss the note of contempt in the speaker's voice and wrinkled his snout in puzzlement. "He is a Teller of The Way from the far beyond our mountains."