by Peter Barns
Once sunlight had begun to fade, the stars had appeared, but contrary to Broshee's expectations, they did not chase the monsters away. Indeed she could still hear their horrible calls as they thundered passed on the far side of the hill.
Broshee began finding more and more reasons not to move, but the strange force she'd felt earlier began exerting itself once more, and reluctantly rising to her feet, she headed for the brow of the hill, her steps faltering and trance like.
Topping the rise Broshee looked down at the scene below, her mouth slack, her heart pounding so wildly that she thought it must surely tear from her chest.
The monsters were rushing along the track and screaming their rage at each other, just as they had the last time that she'd been here. But now they were illuminating their way with light stolen from the moon!
Broshee was mesmerised by the sight and stood watching for a long time, until drawn to the very edge of the track by the compelling force that had brought her here. She stood all atremble, breathing in the monster's sharp scent. They ignored her, rushing on their way, buffeting her with their hot wake.
Closing her eyes, Broshee took her first tentative steps onto the wide black surface.
The creatures did not attack her, they just kept chasing each other, growling and howling their displeasure.
Growing bolder, Broshee opened her eyes and locked them on her target, a tall tree standing directly opposite. Trying to ignore the pounding noises all around her, she padded onwards, flinching as one monster actually passed right over the top of her, its hot breath scorching her fur.
And as the terrified badger made her hesitant way across the smooth surface of the highway, the drivers– safe in their self-contained metal boxes– hurried about their business, isolated from her world. If they noticed anything at all, it was a dark shadow on a darker surface, one of many such shadows littering the busy road that night.
*
Slikit collapsed into an exhausted heap, praising himself triumphantly. "You see, you did it. I said you could."
It had taken the old badger most of the moon to drag the unconscious boar back to the burrow, but somehow he'd managed it and now, patting the badger's flank, Slikit's eyes twinkled with his accomplishment.
"You're really lucky I happened along. Do you know that?" he told the unconscious boar.
As he mumbled contentedly to himself, Slikit piled leaves in one corner for a make-shift nest.
"Without Slikit's help you'd be dead by now, do you realise that?"
Standing back to admire his work the old badger nodded, then manoeuvring the sick boar onto the nest, he piled more leaves on top of him, all the time mumbling and grumbling and fussing around until he'd made the sick badger as comfortable as he could.
"What's the matter? Is he hurt?"
Slikit had been so involved in his work that the voice startled him and he jumped in reaction to the softly spoken words, his heart beating wildly.
"Dear oh dear, but you scared me female, you really did." Waddling across the chamber Slikit stared at the sow short-sightedly. "You're awake then," he observed.
Soffen lifted her head and studied the small bedraggled stranger with a critical stare, but the effort proved too much for her, and she dropped her head back with a thump that made the old badger wince.
Soffen's voice, though weak, carried a determination that demanded an answer. "Tell me what's wrong with him."
Slikit tutted at the sow's impudence. "Where I come from females know their place, indeed they do," he replied, wondering if he should leave right now and let the sow deal with the unconscious boar on her own.
Soffen struggled to raise herself, this time making it to her fore feet. Slikit could see how weak she was and piled leaves under her chest to help support her.
Soffen wrinkled her snout at him. "Thank you badger. My name is Soffen."
The sow's statement warranted an answer, and even though Slikit was loath to start a conversation, he felt it might be churlish not to respond.
"I'm Slikit," he finally mumbled self-consciously, keeping his eyes focused on the floor.
Soffen indicated the badger that Slikit had so valiantly laboured to drag back to the burrow. "That's Brock."
Slikit glanced up at Soffen, then quickly over at Brock. He nodded. "Well whoever he is, he's very heavy," he stated, before sighing loudly at all the hard work he'd put in dragging Brock back to the chamber. Tilting his head to one side he stared at the sick boar and added, "I'm no Healer, but he seems pretty ill to me."
"Well fortunately I am," Soffen's curt reply cut across the old badger's thoughts and his face split into a huge grin.
"You are?" he checked quickly, suddenly worried that he might have misheard. "You're a Healer? Really? Well that's good news. Very good news indeed."
Brushing some loose leaves from his sparse coat, Slikit backed away towards the entrance, making ready to leave.
"Well I'll be on my way then, shall I?"
"No you can't go yet," Soffen's tone was urgent. "I'm much too weak to cope alone. You'll have to stay, I need your help. Stay, stay and help me."
Slikit sighed heavily as he turned back to consider the Healer's request, mumbling softly under his breath, weighing up his choices. He was unhappy at the prospect of spending even more time in the company of these badgers, but he could hardly just go off and leave them helpless like this. No that wouldn't be right. Not right at all.
"Go and feel his nose Slikit," Soffen instructed the old badger. "Tell me if it's hot."
Standing taller Slikit cast Soffen a look full of disdain. "I've already done that female. Indeed it was the first thing that I did," he added proudly, nodding his head.
"Well?" Soffen queried. "Are you going to tell me or just stand there like a lost toad?"
Slikit leant closer. "Female, I already know what's wrong with your friend." Furrowing his snout, the old badger tipped his head quizzically. "But tell me, what's made you so ill?" First glancing at Brock, then back at Soffen, he finished quietly, "Because it's obviously very different from what ails him."
Soffen looked at the floor, her embarrassment evident.
"It was something that I ate," she replied slowly, "and none of your business."
Although the Healer's tone was sharp, Slikit continued to stare at her, waiting her out and she looked away in confusion.
"So what do you think is wrong with him then?" she countered.
Glancing at Brock, Slikit's countenance sobered. "From the yellow spittle dribbling from his mouth and the difficulty he has breathing, I'd say he's got yellow cough. But then, I'm no Healer, am I."
Soffen's breath caught in the back of her throat. If the old badger's diagnosis was correct—
She shook her head in denial, her mouth suddenly dry. "The yellow cough? Are you sure?" When Slikit nodded yes, Soffen's heart sank. "But then you must leave at once!"
Slikit just smiled at the Healer's concern. "What fear does the yellow cough hold for an old badger like me?" he reasoned. "If I catch it, I catch it. If I don't, I don't." He flicked his tail grandly, as though he'd just made a winning point in an important debate.
From the moment Slikit had stumbled across the unconscious boar, he'd known that the badger was suffering from yellow cough but had chosen to ignore the fact. The disease was not new to him.
Once, when just a cub, yellow cough had spread it's evil tentacles throughout his sett, killing most of the badgers living there, including his own family. It had been a hard time for Slikit and even now the memory brought a heavy sadness to his old heart. As usual the illness had disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving death and misery in its wake.
Yellow cough was a slow and painful way to die, feared by all badgers. The first sign was an innocuous cough, quickly followed by the spitting up of a thick yellow pus, often laced with blood. Over the next few moons the sufferer lost weight, becoming weak and emaciated, unable to care for themselves any longer. Then patches of fur began to f
all out, leaving dreadful sores that oozed a clear sticky fluid. In the end stages some sufferers hallucinated, often convinced that they were recovering. Feeling stronger, they would leave their chambers and wander into the forest, dying a lonely and painful death far from loved ones.
Slikit smiled at Soffen. "No female, I have no fear of the yellow cough, indeed not."
Soffen shrugged wearily, suddenly looking very tired and shrunken. "Then badger," she replied, "you are a fool!"
Ignoring her jibe, Slikit picked up some leaves and began cleaning the fur around Brock's mouth. His reply when it finally came, was sharp and to the point.
"That may be so female, but at least I don't eat things that violently disagree with me."
Slikit rubbed hard at the sick badger's neck, allowing time for his barb to strike home.
"Not me," he finished with a final downward stroke.
Soffen ignored the old badger's remark, saying instead, "I need to collect some Mouse-ear. I can treat him with that. It's the only chance he has. I think I saw some . . . some . . . I think—"
Slikit turned as Soffen's voice faded away, in time to see her collapse. Running over he shook the Healer urgently, shouting in her ear.
"What was that female? What did you say?"
Tutting angrily when she failed to respond, Slikit stood in the centre of the small chamber, his snout wrinkled in agitation.
"Something about a mouse's ears. The female said something about a mouse's ears. I'm sure of it." Shaking his head in confusion, the old badger studied the floor. "That's very strange. Very strange indeed."
Slikit fussed about in the burrow for a time, moving things from here to there and from there to here, all the while mumbling and grumbling about the smallness of the chamber, the smelliness of the leaves covering the floor, and anything else that caught his eye. By the time he'd finished, the chamber was spick and span and both badgers as comfortable as he could make them. Then taking one last look around to check everything was as it should be, Slikit made his way outside.
Retracing his steps along the track he'd taken earlier, Slikit's snout twitched zealously. "It was somewhere along here," he assured himself, scenting the ground with his wrinkled old nose. "Somewhere along here."
Pressing on, Slikit jerked his head from side to side, trying to spot the spoor he'd seen earlier.
The old badger pushed on with his search, even though he knew it was all to no avail. In his experience, any badger unlucky enough to catch Yellow Cough always died.
*
While Soffen and Brock lay ill in the burrow, and Slikit searched for the Mouse's ear, Broshee reached the base of the tree on the far side of the track. The monsters had roared and screamed their annoyance at her invasion of their track, but none had done her any real harm. Her eyes still stung from the dust and grit thrown up, and her ears still rang from the terrible noise, but she was alive and well. Now standing at the base of the tree, she drew back her head and looked up along its length.
Broshee had never seen such a tree before, its trunk so straight and smooth to the touch. Its strange configuration made her feel uneasy, but she had no choice, she would have to climb it if she wanted to retrieve Boddaert's Magic.
She hoped that Boddaert's Magic would help make her mother well again, and that alone would make the struggle ahead worth the effort. Taking a deep breath, she reared up and flexing her claws, began the long hard climb.
The tree exuded an unpleasant odour that stung her eyes and offended her nose, but she pressed on, doing her best not to breathe too deeply. Upwards she struggled, with many stops to gather her strength. And as she climbed, Broshee thought about her brother. Her dear, dead brother, Darkburst. The image of his strong handsome face buoying her up, giving her the strength to continue.
A long time after starting out on her arduous climb, Broshee finally reached a series of strange looking objects protruding from the side of the tree. Situated one above the other, they were long and thin, cold to the touch, and the colour of shimmering starlight. Unable to decide what these bizarre objects were, Broshee sat on the topmost one to rest. The view was disorientating and her senses spun, so she closed her eyes and clung on tightly, breathing deeply to calm herself.
Recovered, she started out again, climbing higher and higher, afraid to look down now that the height made her feel so dizzy. Slowly, slowly, the top came closer and she realised that her journey was nearing its end. Soon Boddaert's Magic would be hers for the taking.
As she reached the top of the tree, Broshee stopped to gaze out over the land below. She had climbed so high now that there was no sense of dizziness anymore and even the monsters below seemed far smaller and less frightening. Looking along the track she could make out the line of trees edging its black surface, stretching away into the distance either side of her.
Without being able to explain why, Broshee was convinced that this was the tree. Out of all the trees flanking the track, this was her tree: the tree that hid Boddaert's Magic.
It was this unspoken certainty that had given her the energy to set out on this dangerous journey in the first place.
With the last of her strength, Broshee fought her way to the very top of the tree, finally reaching its uppermost branches in a breathless tumble.
But what strange branches were these? Like none she'd ever seen before. No thicker than her leg, made up of thin wisps twisted around each other, dropping away in a gentle arc before rising gradually to meet the next tree. There were four such branches, two growing from each side of the trunk.
Searching about the top of the tree Broshee's heart sank in bitter disappointment when she found no sign of Boddaert's Magic. She'd been so certain, so sure she would find Boddaert's Magic here.
Tears of frustration filled her eyes as she realised she'd have to climb all the way down again and try the next tree. Wondering if she had the strength to undertake another such climb, Broshee turned to begin her descent, crying out in terror as she slipped.
Reaching out Broshee clutched wildly at a branch, trying to steady herself. But as she grasped it, she was embraced in a harsh blue flickering light that singed her fur and shook her violently from side to side.
The bolt of electricity from the overhead power line seared its way through the young sow and she screamed in agony as her body was thrown fully across the high voltage wires. The current engulfed her, eagerly flowing through her, searching out susceptible areas, sizzling the nerve endings over her whole body. The smell of burning flesh assailed her sensitive nose and the claws of her right paw, now tightly clasped about the vibrating wire, popped and bubbled, welding themselves together into a smoking lump.
As the last vestiges of life fluttered weakly in Broshee's mind, a vision came to her. It was bright and clear and her heart beat faster for seeing it.
It was a vision of her father, but not the strong handsome father that she had so often imagined. This badger was small and twisted, his body covered in bare patches and sores that wept a green-coloured pus.
He smiled at her, holding out his paws to her. "Come daughter," he beckoned. "It's truly time that we were one again."
Broshee twisted away in horror, falling clear of the power lines. The persistent flickers of electricity even then trying to sustain their contact, crackled about her head.
As she fell, Broshee's body turned end over end, and it seemed to her that her fall would last forever. Time slowed and she felt at peace with the world, comprehending for the first time in her short existence, the fact that life would go on without her. She did not feel frightened anymore, just a great sadness that she would no longer have the chance of rearing her own cubs, of digging her own chambers and filling them with laughter.
Darkburst's image filled her mind and she sensed that she would soon be with him once again. Then her father's image superimposed itself over Darkburst's and he beckoned her, but now with the face of Brock. Back and forth the images flowed. Back and forth. Back and forth. First Brock, th
en Darkburst, then her father. Her father, then Darkburst, then Brock, until she could no longer tell the images apart.
"Father," Broshee cried in a small, terrified voice. "Help me please. It hurts, it hurts so much."
The young sow bounced just once after hitting the hard surface of the road, her small frail body bursting as a car smashed into it. Thrown high into the air, she landed in a mud-filled ditch where she lay quite still, unable to move, her back broken.
Broshee died slowly, slowly and in terrible pain. And as the last thoughts flickered and faded from her mind she cried, because there was no badger there to share in her anguish and distress.
*
They gathered in the early morning light. One . . . two . . . then a group.
Black and shiny they glided in on the wind, their wings held high as they fought over the unexpected prize. And so Broshee's body was devoured, slowly and thoroughly, until even her bones had been scattered and the only sign left that she had lived such a short life– that she had lived a life at all– was the blood-red patch that now stained the grass.
As the last crow left it circled the electricity pole twice, cawing its pleasure. The meal had been good and its stomach was full. Dipping low it swooped over the road and headed off towards the tall trees of Migaro Lake.
And with the crow went Broshee's claws, fused into a tight circle by the high voltage that had passed through them. The bird flew higher, gaining speed on the currents of warm air rising from the ground below. Primitive urges sped it on its way; the urge to mate, to build a nest. Clutching its prize tightly the bird winged its way onward, hoping the strange object it carried might attract a mate. Then dipping its head the black shape glided across the treetops, searching for a nesting site.
Chapter 16
The air was full of murmuring voices and Grindel waited patiently until the noise died down before speaking. When he finally addressed the assembly on Fire Rock, his voice boomed out over them like thunder rumbling in the sky.
"Badgers—" he paused until he had their full attention. "Friends you've been gathered here this moon because I have grave news. News which affects each and every one of us."
Nodding slowly Grindel watched heads turn in a flurry of movement as badger looked at badger, wondering why they had been called away from their hunting. Grindel followed the ripples of motion through the crowd, as those at the front relayed his words to those further back. Finally the gathering stilled and looked up at him expectantly. Speaking slowly and clearly, pausing between each statement to add emphasis to what he was saying, Grindel continued.