“Of course. I wouldn't miss your cottage pie for all the world,” he smiled taking her hand to illustrate his sincerity.
She took it back, eventually, turned, and ran out the door smiling like a middle-aged teenager.
Edward watched her go, then quickly turned to the pantry, opened the door and found the brown box labelled 'Lost and Found' in a colourful and childish hand. Setting it on the floor and whipping it open he trawled through the mix of missing objects. Mostly it was junk which no one would come looking for. A multitude of plastic rings, a few European coins pre-dating the monetary union, a spool of thread, a single baby sock, an old video game system and finally a bunch of unrelated keys attached to the same large ring, had found a cardboard home in the box.
He started flipping through them; car keys, mail box keys, bike lock keys, until suddenly there it was in front of him. The silver now thickly tarnished to black, it had half a fox head and along the stem was a straight line of cogs which clearly would fit into the key's missing sister . There was writing on the key as well but he could not make it out through the tarnish.
“I'll have to find the silver polish and give you a clean later. For now, though, let's see how you fit in those keyholes below.”
Leaving the mess of lost objects on the floor in a very uncharacteristic manner, he grabbed a torch, jumped down the stairs to the crypt and nearly fell over himself as he skipped to the bottom of the spiral staircase. When he reached the bottom he brought his face close to the box and the fox on its lid looked back at him. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, realizing he was very likely opening a sacred object which had remained closed for many centuries.
“Okay, come on Edward, this isn't some school boy adventure. You have a responsibility towards this place and that includes any special objects it contains. So let's get a grip and be serious about this for a moment.”
He turned away from the small box towards the silver door and, before inserting the key, said a quick prayer. The fit was snug and when he tried to turn it he could feel the mechanism giving, but so slowly he was worried about breaking the key in the lock. Extinguishing the oil lamp which he had foolishly left lit on the floor, he poured a small amount of the oil onto the body of the key and slid it back into the lock. This time the key moved a little easier and finally clicked the door free.
There wasn't a handle in the door so he had to use the key to pull the door open. The hinges groaned stiff from disuse and he dribbled some oil on them as well. It was a wide door about two feet square and once he work it open he could see the space inside was just as deep. The only contents were a bright silver pedestal ornamented with transparent piece of ancient cloth. He carefully moved the cloth and set it to the side and, as he expected, fit the box neatly within the square of the stand.
He gently turned the key back and removed it from the door watching to see the thick bar move freely from the locked to the open position. He was surprised that something this old would work at all.
The only other oddity within the small alcove was another keyhole set in the centre of the back. This one, however, was shaped as most other keyholes with a full opening made for a complete and unbroken key.
Ignoring this new mystery he focused his attention back onto the ornate box, closed his eyes and said another quick prayer.
Dribbling a few more drops of oil on the key he carefully inserted it into the opening and gently started to turn. This time the lock clicked open smoothly with no restriction. He took a deep breath and gently started to hinge the box open. His hands were dirty and he didn't want to disrespect or spoil whatever was inside with an oil smudge, so he wiped them on his trousers, then delicately lifted the box and stood back towards the door and the light.
Soft and downy feathers, still a bright white, lined the box. Seated to one side was a tight linen wrap and next to it was a plain leather bound journal, held closed with a coiling gold clasp. Undoing the coil he released the clasp and carefully opened the journal. The pages were still bright, the handwriting clear, and the binding which held it all together was strong as if the book had rarely been used. But the pages were completely filled with a mix of text and hand drawn images which, he wasn't surprised to find, were all of Foxes. It was written in Latin and Edward laughed, finally pleased to find something that fit with what he would have expected.
He flipped through the pages, thinking that the book was whole only to find that a page had been hastily and messily torn out towards the end. Given that his Latin wasn't what it used to be, he was excited by the prospect of brushing up and taking on the translation of the document himself.
He wasn't sure whether or not to unwrap the linens but finally decided it was probably a good idea. He had seen a program on telly about examining relics in order to assess their condition and to consider the best options for preservation and thought this should be his course of action as well. The fabric unwound easily and had a lingering smell of incense. Most likely it had been blessed before being wrapped around the holy object it was to protect. The cloth built up in a pile near the box where it sat in the alcove and, as he neared the treasure within, he could tell that it was probably a bone of some sort.
It had the unsurprising shape of a human fist, but as the linens released their contents with a rattle, he realized he should have known better. There before him was the skull of a fox completely covered in gold.
Chapter Eleven
“The graveyard is one of the greatest wonders in the Burrow,” Daegal began. “It rests within an enormous underground valley cutting deep into the earth and extending for nearly five trots. A wire of a staircase snakes back and forth attached to the wall at the valley's end and leads to a single tiny speck of a door set high above. This is the only entrance to the graveyard and is manned by a single fox.”
“Eorl,” said Samson. “Perhaps the only fox older than I am.”
“Considerably older I would say, dear,” Ursula remarked with a sceptical grin. “He has guarded the door for at least the past eighty years and probably considerably longer.”
“They say he remembers the name and burial mound of every fox who has ever been carried past him,” Mercia added.
“So how do we get there?” Roe asked, curled away from the group by the fire, the Beast lying near him.
“Fortunately, the burrow which leads to the valley can be accessed without having to traverse the Paw Maul,” Mercia continued, staring at Daegal with a cheeky grin.
“God, no!” Daegal groaned looking desperately at the others.
“That's right. In order to get there we'll have to ride Viradec's Spine.”
“Well, I hope no one is afraid of heights,” Scarlett said, with a excited waggle of her whiskers.
Roe had first heard of the Spine from a young mother disciplining her pup. “If you do that again, I swear I will throw you down Viradec's Spine,” she had screamed, the shards of a broken bottle of moth brew scattered around the little offender. It was a common threatening phrase uttered amongst the lesser burrows. Fear of the Spine came more from where it lead than from the dangers of riding it. If not for the graveyard, it would have been a thrilling diversion from the real horrors of living in the Great Burrow.
“Entrance to the Spine is monitored by several Guardians and Shadow Foxes,” Daegal said, hoping to convince the others to find a wiser plan. “I don't think confronting them and raising the alarm is a good idea. We need to avoid other foxes at all costs.” He turned towards Samson, hoping he could win the older fox over. “Roe will be quickly recognized.”
“Since when has the Inari become so lily livered?” Samson responded quickly, with a piercing stare.
“Since we became the good guys, Samson,” Daegal said, dropping his usual joking tone and taking on that authority which had won him the top position in the gang. “The Inari do what is prudent and profitable. Throwing Roe down the spine past an army of Shadow Foxes is neither of these.”
Samson considered the f
at fox before him with a dissatisfied grunt and it was Roe, rising from the floor, who broke the tension.
“I've heard there is an old tunnel which bisects the Spine below the entrance. If we could find the opening to this tunnel on the surface we could enter without being detected,” he said, the Beast rising with him spinning in a circle and settling back closer to the fire.
“If we could find it!” Scarlett exclaimed with a scoff. “There have been rumours about that tunnel for years and I've never seen it. Besides how could it not be seen from within the Spine? I'm sure it is just that...a rumour.”
Spencer, the Shadow Fox, having remained small and unassuming next to the hearth, sidled up to Scarlett and poked his nose into her back.
“So you would confront the Guardians directly?” Samson asked in a considered tone.
“Stop it, Spencer,” She said pushing the Shadow Fox gently away. “Roe needn't fight them. Now that you are well, we should be able to take them between the two of us and the others could offer...their...assistance as best they can.” Scarlett looked at Daegal and Mercia, making no attempt to mask her disregard for their fighting skills.
“This may be hard for you to believe, Scarlett, but we've managed just fine in countless fights without you or your legendary Daddy,” Mercia replied, unable to contain herself.
“No doubt,” Scarlett replied.
“Fighting ability isn't the issue,” Daegal interrupted. “Even if Roe isn't seen, raising any sort of alarm isn't a good idea. Gremian would investigate quickly and aggressively. He has the entire burrow under watch with a fortune and a birthing place within Sunniva's Womb as a prize for whomever catches or kills the Sky Fighter. It just isn't worth the risk.”
“Loyalties disappear pretty quickly, even between friends, when there is an offer of hope in these desperate times,” Samson said, nodding in agreement with Daegal. “Any hint of anything unusual will bring every bounty hunter in London down upon you. Besides, I will not be going.” He said looking at Roe who looked up and met his gaze.
“I've done my duty and I've paid the price for failing your mother. As I said before, you must find the answers for yourself. Anyway, I'm not what I used to be. Age has finally caught up with me and I don't intend to leave my family again.” He cleared his throat and looking between Roe and Scarlett, continued. “Roe, you are a son to me but it is time I was a father to my daughter. I will remain here so both of you always know where to find me.”
Scarlett looked to the floor, hiding her reaction, while Roe nodded in agreement.
“Well, regardless of whatever you might think of the Inari, I was personally looking forward to an adventure with the legendary Samson,” Daegal said, carefully.
Samson smiled and gave the gang leader a slight nod of the head.
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Spencer prodded Scarlett in the side once again, now holding a piece of paper between his jaws offering her a much welcome distraction from the moment.
“Spencer! What is it?” she said, with an insincere sigh of impatience. “We like to keep you informed of everything that is going on here, but only so long as you are not a nuisance.”
“Why don't you read what he has to say,” Ursula said pointing to the parchment, “rather than just telling him off?”
Taking the paper from his jaws with a whip of the head she spat in onto the table and spread it flat with a paw. Spencer sat and waited patiently for them to read.
“Last year, when I was trying out one of my inventions I found the secret tunnel. The reason you can't see it from within the Spine is because it is completely covered in vines and the entrance outside the Spine looks like a solid rock face.” He had written the text in a very competent paw, each word ending in an elegant flourish.
The wind had started to build outside and its howl was the only sound that could be heard around the table. The group looked at each other surprised and slightly embarrassed. None could have imagined that the small Shadow Fox would have offered up a solution to their dilemma.
“That settles it, then,” Ursula, said leaning over Spencer and breaking the silence. “Thank you, my dear.” Then turning to the others, she continued, “That should serve as a reminder that we should always take the time to listen, especially to the Shadow Foxes who we all too frequently disregard as nothing more than furniture. Spencer will lead the group to the tunnel and then come straight back to me. “ She prodded the little fox with a threatening paw. “You are still too young to be going off on an adventure of this sort.”
The group rose, silently having settled on the plan. The Beast responded to the action with a shake and a yawn and started bouncing about the room with renewed vigour.
“You stay here, Beast” Roe said calmly to the dog before exiting the den. “You've found a warm fire and a dry roof. We are going into the rain.” The Beast considered and lingered by the door watching her departing master. She even put a tentative paw outside before turning around and settling back once again by the fire.
“What invention?” Mercia asked Spencer once they were outside.
He quickly responded by slashing a stick through the sand at the entrance to the mound, “You'll...see...because...you...will...need...to...use...them...at...the...Spine!”
She was on the verge of investigating further just as Samson stepped between them.
“Could you stay for a moment, Scarlett?” he asked over Mercia's shoulder, towards his quickly disappearing daughter. Scarlett felt a moment of childish panic and thought of continuing away from him into the trees at the edge of the clearing. Mercia and Spencer had quickly retreated into the fading light.
Finally she stiffened her shoulders and turned to consider her father for a moment. His face was open and vulnerable and she could tell he was holding his breath. Letting a portion of her guard go, she sat near the entrance to the den.
“Fine,” was all she said before lowering her muzzle towards the floor.
Samson circled around the room aimlessly for a moment, then settled behind the table and looked nervously towards his daughter.
“Forgiveness is not something I expected to survive to ask of you,” he began with an awkward laugh. “At the same time, forgiveness is not something I ever sought. I sacrificed much to do my duty, and you were an unfortunate casualty of that sacrifice.”
She continued to look away from him, a bitter expression directed towards the wall.
“This is difficult for me to say,” he sighed, his usually tough voice cracking slightly with emotion.
Scarlett looked at him, grinding her teeth to keep away the tears.
“Perhaps you could try harder to say it,” Scarlett offered.
He considered for a moment, desperately looking about the room, begging his soldier's tongue to produce the words she needed to hear. Finally he stopped thinking and let the words fall out from an emotional place he rarely accessed or revealed to anyone.
“It has been difficult for you, but I want you to know that not a day went by these past twenty years that I did not think about you or your mother without feeling that my heart was being torn from my living chest. So, as hard as it was for you, it was for me too. So rather than ask for your forgiveness, I offer you my thanks. My thanks for taking care of your mother, for your patience, and, most of all, for having shared this burden with me.”
He looked at her as the sun dropped below the horizon, bathing her in an amber glow within the oval framed entrance. He waited for a moment, then added with a sigh, “I, too, will be patient and will be here when you decide you would like to speak to me.”
He rose and trotted past her outside, intending to help the others prepare, when she gave a quick bark forcing him to stop and look back over his shoulder.
“Apology accepted, Samson...Father.” She said, risking an almost imperceptible smile.
*
Several hours later, having struggled to keep pace with the inexhaustibly swift Spencer and all the while trying not to slip under
the increasingly heavy downpour, they found themselves, far into the fringes of West London, safe from the rain in a cave and looking down into a rather small hole. The entrance to the limestone cave had been through a passage so narrow and overgrown with vines Daegal had dislocated a leg while squeezing through.
“Never mind,” he said. “Happens all the time. Fortunately it is easy to reset.” He looked to Roe and Mercia with a nod.
Roe responded by giving the great bulk a support, while Mercia jumped into the air and used two paws to give his shoulder a quick and powerful kick. There was a very uncomfortable popping sound.
“Ahhh!!!,” he yelled. “Good, good, that was a good one.” He hopped about, shaking his head and the pain away.
Since leaving Ursula's Grove, Scarlett's mood had improved greatly. She smiled and started to laugh at the three of them banging away at Daegal.
“You do know each other well,” she said. “Yet you make a good team, I'll give you that.”
“Thanks,” Mercia responded, flashing a smile while giving Daegal's shoulder a brisk nuzzle to massage away the soreness. “Now what?”
Everyone looked to Spencer who impatiently indicated towards the hole with his head before jumping into the darkness.
They quickly leapt in behind him and found the tunnel to be a small but comfortable size, criss crossed with roots and the occasional rockfall. It descended at a lazy angle and was filled with an absolute darkness. The kind of darkness a fox pup likes to test by bringing an invisible paw to their maul. This slowed the foxes down only marginally as their instincts through the dark naturally guided them.
Nearly half an hour passed before their progress began to slow due to the large number of vines blocking their way. Spencer had an ingenious type of sword, sharply curved, which he used to hack away at the plants to create a clear course.
The Progeny of Able (The Burrow of London Series Book 1) Page 19