The Progeny of Able (The Burrow of London Series Book 1)

by Peter S. Case

  Flowing rapidly past the disoriented shapes of Roe, Samson and the orange sponge of a canine was a massive and powerful barge. Dipping below the water level and curving to the gunwales of the craft was a loose chain used to secure the ship when it came to port. It was to this chain that Roe attached Samson and that he carefully scaled, the wet puppy ball hanging from his mouth. After planting the animal amongst the rubbish of the refuse craft, he scaled back down the thick metal and retrieved the unconscious Samson.

  They floated for some time under the gentle swell and fall of garbage and Roe drifted off, dreaming of Shon's Spring. The noon day sun eventually glimmered off the Houses of Parliament and woke him, the thick water from the Thames encrusting him in a layer of crisp dry goo. His entire body ached with itch.

  Peeling himself from the side of the craft, Roe woke his companions. He remembered there was an entrance to the Burrow near the library of the great Palace. It was hidden inside an old grated storm drain set along the wall of the river. Hauling Samson onto his back yet again, he jumped into this drain opening as they passed. Exhausted, he nearly fell backwards into the river in the attempt, but was saved when the canine leapt onto his back the weight carrying all of them safely into the slimy tunnel. By the time they made it to the Inari safe house Roe had been bitten by Samson many on numerous occasions. Although the old Fox was still unconscious the sickness forced sporadic spasms of the jaw which had unintentionally clamped down on Roe as he tried to shift the dead weight.

  Daegal, Mercia and a few others were waiting in a quickly furnished room dripping with damp and hidden from the council within an offshoot of Shadowfall. It took a few moments before Roe noticed Fireson orbiting the jagged and rocky walls of their meeting place.

  Upon their entrance, everyone jumped to their paws and backed away. It was Fireson who didn't move and it was to the Shadow Fox that Roe first approached.

  “I hope that what you have done has not been at too great a cost to you or your Burrow,” Roe said as he bowed to Fireson as a sign of thanks.

  The Shadow Fox cut a line in the earth which read, 'No, we pretended confusion to Gremian. He has little faith in our intelligence and remarked that punishing us would be as useful as punishing a stone.'

  “Still, you risked much helping us.”

  The Shadow Fox simply shook his head, lifted his paw, and showed his brand. Roe smiled and presented his day old mark along side it.

  “You are right,” Roe said, glancing at Daegal. “For our families we would risk everything.”

  “Roe, we need to get the two of you to the surface and somewhere safe,” Daegal responded to his friend's look.

  “Gremian doesn't trust that you drowned and even forced a soldier to follow you into the river. As far as we know the soldier hasn't yet resurfaced but if he survived he will return soon enough.”

  “We just got back,” Roe heaved. “Is there no possibility of us having a rest. Samson needs...”

  Mercia closed his mouth before he could finish and put a paw on his forehead. “Roe, you have the sickness as well, of this there is no doubt. You cannot stay here. And yes, Samson isn't going to last long and is the greatest risk of contagion. I will come with you but we must leave.”

  He knew they were right.

  “All right, we'll go but there is someone I must locate first.” He looked at Samson as he spoke. “Before I arrived on that riverbank five years ago, Samson had told me of a vixen. A vixen that he thought it was imperative I find. One who knew about my past.”

  Daegal leaned his head to the side, clearly not convinced that researching family history was the best use of Roe's time.

  “After the...circumstances...of how I released Samson from his bonds I have decided that it is important that I learn more about my past,” Roe continued.

  “Circumstances? You destroyed a granite pillar and cracked the facade off the palace with your voice alone,” Daegal began. “There is a myth I read about when I was a child. It concerned the lost Art and the building of the Great Burrow, but that is beside the point. Who is this person you need to find?”

  “All I know is that her name is Ursula and that she was close to my parents.”

  Daegal rose and faced the glistening wall, his back turned to the group.

  “I know Ursula, she has been under my protection for many years. If it is her you need to find then it is more fortunate than you know. She lives on an island in the Thames and is perhaps the only fox who might be able to treat the frothing sickness. I will go with you, as well. No one from London, other than myself, has ever approached Ursula since her exile. There is one thing, however. You will meet someone else familiar. Someone you might not be pleased to see.” He gave Mercia a wink then smiled. “This is all good. I've wanted to get above into the fresh air for a few years now.”

  “I don't know what is more surprising,” Roe said. “Your enthusiasm or the fact that you can read.”

  By the time they had readied themselves for the journey, the moon had risen high in the sky and glimmered in the silky black water. As they ran along the banks of the river the reflection of the great white eye followed them in unblinking pursuit.

  The air was cold and their breathing showed it. The weight of so many bags and the need to carry the infected Samson slowed them down considerably. The inexhaustible hound, however, was overjoyed by the freedom of being above ground and splashed and played in the muck, running and returning to the group so often that it doubled the length of her journey.

  They kept close to the steep walls of the Thames' banks and swam silently through the water where the land hadn't been high enough to escape the tide. Gradually the built-up river wall gave way to a pitched earthen shoreline and the scattered dissolving refuse collected over the city's two thousand year history began to disappear. Rather than buildings and lights, they passed darkness and trees.

  They travelled with an efficient and experienced urgency, Daegal leading the way, encouraging the silence between them.

  The towers of London far behind and a faint glow of sunlight gathering ahead, Daegal suddenly turned to the right and plunged into the river towards the dark silhouette of trees clawing at the morning sky. The woodland grew from a remote still island in the centre of the river. The rest of the group followed behind him without hesitation and the three foxes formed a sleek arched repetition of red as they leapt into the air and into the water.

  A wind had gathered and tipped the trees towards the full swell of the tide. They struggled to keep the strong current from washing them further down river but all foxes being naturally excellent swimmers have no fear of the water. The puppy whimpered slightly from between the jaws of Mercia which was the only sound on the river other than the perpetual lap of the water against the far shore.

  Mercia paddled quickly ahead and was the first to reach the silt and sandy beach. She tossed the dog rather carelessly into the woods, the animal being relieved to be back on solid ground no matter how roughly it was placed there, then she waded back into the river to help Roe as he fought the water under the burden of Samson.

  Daegal was the last to make it ashore but not without the assistance of both Roe and Mercia and a long twisted plane tree branch heaved on like a rope between the two of them. He flopped on the ground breathing heavily and unashamedly gasped, “Being a fox of significant fortitude has its drawbacks on occasion. This is one of them.”

  Mercia collapsed next to him and gave him a friendly nip.

  “As long as you don't have a heart attack before you tell us where we are.”

  Roe had crossed back to Samson, who lay further up the bank in a pile where he had carefully placed him. He put his damp nose close to the old fox's open jaws to check that he was still breathing. He felt nothing, hindered by the strong breeze coming down the river, and moved his face closer. Fortunately Samson gave a quick gasp of warning before clamping his jaws tightly closed narrowly missing the quickly retracted snout of Roe.

  “We don't hav
e much time, Daegal. So, as soon as those large legs of yours are able, we need to move,” Roe said gravely.

  “Okay...okay...just thirty seconds. That's all I ask. He's obviously survived for days when any other fox would have succumbed to the illness by now. I don't think another minute is going to make any difference,” Daegal said, trying to push himself upright only to fall back onto his side.

  “He doesn't really fit the myth, does he? I mean, lying frail in front of us is supposed to be the greatest fighting fox that ever lived,” Mercia said looking at the form of Samson.

  “At full health, even at his age, there are few foxes that could best him.”

  “How old is he, anyway?” Mercia asked.

  “I don't know.” Roe said, breaking off suddenly, twitching his ears in the breeze and inhaling deeply.

  “We are being watched,” he whispered. “They are very skilled to have gotten so close without us hearing.”

  Daegal got up slowly, snapping off the thick portion of his fetching branch between his jaws. Roe took a jaw-full of sand to throw if necessary and Mercia had quickly flipped a small grenade into her mouth. All three instinctively gathered around the vulnerable fox on the ground and looked sharply around them.

  An explosion of leaves in front of Daegal sent him staggering backwards into the others sending the group further up the bank and closer to the trunk of a sturdy oak tree. Roe heard a slight click and caught sight of a delicate string running along the ground going taut. He leapt and twisted, narrowly missing the net that sprung up wrapping Mercia and Daegal in its stringy palm. Before landing he flung the sand at a dark form but the other fox rolled under the coarse rain and caught Roe in his underbelly, pushing him into the air, and hard against the tree.

  Roe recovered quickly but was stunned at the skill and speed of the other fox. He paced around the dark shape unable to see the eyes or jaws from under the black hood. After a couple of attacks that his opponent narrowly avoided, he had managed to put himself between Samson and the other fox. Shining under a root, he caught a glimpse of a pronged piece of the metal which the Hantsa used to eat food during their meals. He dove for it and slid it through Samson's bubbling jaws in one fluid movement before turning towards the dark form which remained poised, watching him with a cocked and curious head. Meanwhile the orange dog sidled up to Roe and directed an enthusiastic growl towards their attacker.

  “This fox has the frothing sickness, as do I, as does this fork so unless you want to risk infection I suggest you leave us alone, whoever you are.”

  “I will not leave you alone,” the voice of a vixen said. “This is my island and you have brought your epidemic upon it. Leave now or I will kill you all.”

  “Scarlett, is that you?” Daegal said from his twisted position high in the tree. “Sorry I couldn't give you my usual warning that I was coming. But it is an emergency.”

  “Daegal,” the voice said slowly, “with or without warning I would not have welcomed you here carrying the frothing sickness with you.”

  “Let us down, you vile vixen.” screamed Mercia, “or I'll set off all the explosives I have on me and the frothing sickness and this island will be the least of your concerns!”

  “We are looking for a Vixen called Ursula,” Roe said quickly, thinking there was something familiar about the hooded voice. “We seek her wisdom and her medicine and come as friends.” He calmly placed the fork onto the ground. “This fox you see before you is the legendary Samson and he needs your help.”

  “Samson...?” she whispered, before pulling back her hood, revealing a familiar face.

  “It's you!” Mercia screamed.

  Standing before them, the newly risen sun shining across her delicate face and white sleek scar, stood the one called 'Shade'.

  “Let us down! Why would you trap us like this.”

  She looked at them dubiously and then finally said, 'I didn't know who you were. Besides any fox of any merit wouldn't get caught in such a trap to begin with.” She looked at Roe with a fleeting moment of respect.

  “You owe me and the entire Inari gang, as does Ursula,” Daegal said finally. “This place exists only because we have kept it a secret and guarded it for the past fifteen years.”

  It was a statement she couldn't refute, causing her to relax a bit.

  “Pick up the old fox and follow me,” she said to Roe before snapping her jaws on the anchoring rope holding the net, cutting it with a single bite.

  Daegal, Mercia and the trap fell to the ground with a loud thump and by the time the two had managed to navigate their way free of the clumsy web, Scarlett was already walking through the trees toward the centre of the Island.

  Roe ignored the others and quickly caught up with her. The dog followed, never straying far from his side.

  “I guess we can call you Scarlett then,” he said, hazarding a modest cheer.

  “Yes, I guess you can,” she said without looking at him. “Why the canine?”

  “Oh, well, she seems to have attached herself to me. I should give her a name really. She did aid in our escape.”

  “Named or unnamed, if the beast antagonizes any of the foxes on this island, she's in tonight's stew.”

  “The Beast,” Roe replied, “She is meant to grow to a considerable size. The Beast. I think that will do, Scarlett. Now you've named her, perhaps you will be hesitant before eating her.”

  Scarlett ignored him, increasing her pace down the path.

  Roe noticed more and more traps the closer they came to the centre of the island as well as an increasing number of huffs from what was most likely wild foxes who shared the island with Ursula and Scarlett. He was pleased that The Beast seemed to be uninterested in them. The group crouched below a savage and thick ivy which had clearly been strategically planted and found themselves in a broad clearing faced by a single grassy rise at its heart.

  Within the hill several burrows had been carved and at its gently curved summit a windmill stood happily spinning. Wild flowers peppered the field and a number of paths cut through them, all leading to the rise in the centre. A lazy stream of smoke rose and spun from a hole in the top of the main burrow twisting and disappearing in the now sun drenched sky.

  “Welcome to Ursula's Island,” Scarlett said, as Mercia popped from below the ivy followed by a struggling Daegal who couldn't manage without taking part of the plant with him.

  “It is a lovely place,” said Roe, unable to keep his mind from thinking of Shon's Spring far to the west. He had pushed Samson through the hedge in front of him and he smiled at the gently breathing fox at his paws. “We've come home,” he whispered, as Samson's ear twitched under his breath.

  “We've spent a lot of time making it so,” Scarlett said. “Over the years we have cut many paths under the island. That is why I could approach you undetected. There was an exit only a few tail-lengths from where you landed on the shore.”

  A number of wild foxes bounced around the field playing and yapping.

  “You live with feral foxes?” Mercia asked.

  “Yes,” Scarlett said without shame. “Most are my nieces and nephews but that old one over there is my sister.”

  Seeing the feral foxes, Mercia suddenly realized who it was they were going to meet. “That is the Ursula we are going to see? The first fox born in the Light who was banished for choosing to give birth to feral foxes?”

  “Most wild foxes don't live beyond three or four years,” Scarlett continued ignoring Mercia's rhetorical question. “Especially, if they wander in to London or any of the other major cities where the Hantsa take up residence. We look after them here, however, and they live much longer. My sister is nearly sixteen now.”

  They started to cross the field and Roe gathered Samson on his back with the hope that it was to be the last time.

  “Aren't you worried about disease?” Mercia said looking at the wild foxes as they past.

  “No!” Snapped Scarlett spinning to face Mercia, stopping the rest of the group. �
��They are incredibly clean. Most feral foxes are. The only difference between us and them is a gift we don't know the source of, nor which we have any control over. We are exactly the same as them. Besides, these two are far more diseased than any of the ferals,” she said, indicating to Roe and Samson.

  As they approached the central burrow an old vixen emerged swinging a bucket on a handle from her jaws. She looked at them from a distance, then dropped the bucket spilling its liquid onto the ground and took off at a run towards them.

  She arrived in a cloud of dust and dirt.

  “Daegal, we must have missed your warning last night. You told me you would float a craft of red past the island the sunset before any day you would visit. We always have a post looking across the river at that time every day. Where is Spencer? He was there last night. He must have fallen asleep. That Shadow Fox is absolutely brilliant but completely useless...” She stopped her speech as she noticed the form of Samson on the ground.

  “I know that scar,” she said indicating to the mark crossing Samson's belly in an angry arch.

  “Samson? It's my Samson,” she wept and started to cross quickly towards Roe and the sick fox.

  “Mother, you mustn't,” Scarlett said sternly pushing her mother away. “He has the frothing sickness and must be quarantined.”

  “The frothing sickness?” she said, her look of joy quickly shifting to a mask of despair. “Quickly, you must get him into the burrow. Keep my children well away for the next few days. They will be attracted to the new scent.”

  “Can you do anything for him?” Roe asked.

  She looked him in the eye and gasped, then shook her head and responded slowly. “The frothing sickness, called rabies by the Hantsa, is treatable. In fact the foxes have a much more effective treatment than the Hantsa but it all depends on his strength of mind.”

  “He has been delirious for days. He came to London with the intention of killing the Supreme Councillor, unaided,” Roe said.

  “I see. That is why you could not send us warning. The message was far too dangerous if fallen into the wrong jaws. Roe, follow me and bring him in quickly. You will stay with him. I can see you have been contaminated and will need the same treatment.”