She toppled off the perch as another branch swung out of the dark and hit her square in the chest.
She landed on her feet, and was about to jump to the neighbouring tree, before changing her mind and sitting back on her haunches and closing her eyes.
Focusing on her sense of hearing, the strongest sense in all foxes, she found she could feel his presence in the dark. She couldn't say precisely where but now if he moved she could see him coming.
“Yes, better,” Samson said, sensing his daughters heightened awareness.
She couldn't tell how much time had gone by, but with each passing breath the sounds painted a more and more detailed picture of the world around her. Seagulls feeding at a great distance, the breath of the ferals in their den, the quick wind in the tops of the trees and the other wind lounging stagnant across the ground. Finally, she heard the bending of a leaf as a body passed clumsily by. Nothing could approach now without her knowing it. She rose and vanished into the dark of the woods resuming her hunt.
Suddenly she found herself pinned onto her side with a strong paw pushing her face into the dirt.
“If you can find the peace within, you become invisible both from the eye and from the ear,” Samson said as she struggled in the dirt. “I could still see you plain as day.”
She managed to turn her head under his loosening grip, and smiled and started to laugh when she did.
“What is so funny?” Samson asked. “You don't agree with the lesson?”
“No, I think it is spot on,” she replied. “You've missed one thing, however.”
“What is that, pup?”
“I am a decoy.”
Before Samson had a chance to turn his gaze, he was pulled away from her and tossed to the ground on the far side of the clearing.
Roe stood over her and offered his paw.
“You heard me coming,” he said.
“You let me hear,” she replied, taking his paw.
They continued to fight amongst the three of them. Scarlett and Roe were never quite able to get the best of Samson, unless they worked together. Finally, as the sun was just beginning to rise over the tree tops they all plunged back into the pool.
“I've brought you more stones,” Ursula said, carrying an additional bucket.
“Put them in,” Scarlett said, looking at her father.
“Half of London could hear you,” Ursula continued as she dumped the stones in the water, “I'd be surprised if we weren't attacked by the entire Burrow sometime today because of it.”
Even though she was exhausted, Scarlett felt exhilarated by the skilled fighting and looked at the others thankfully. She felt a flutter in her heart and couldn't help but recognize it as a growing emotion for Roe.
“Father, do you want to know how I got this scar?”
“Scarlett, do you want to tell me?
“I do. When I found Spencer he was being whipped and taken by a Fox Slaver, most likely to perform till death in the pits. I grabbed Spencer in my jaws, but not before he gave one last strike and caught me in the face. It bled for weeks, but every morning I would find Spencer by my side, my face and the scab licked clean. I don't cater to my wounds, Samson. I have too many. I cater to this island, to my home, to those I love, protecting them from anything harmful. Perhaps you could help me with that?”
“Nothing would make me happier,” Samson said, with a rare smile.
Roe looked at the two of them as he rose out of the water and breathed in the disappearing night air.
“We will protect this island, but that protection begins in the Great Burrow and, believe me, you will both have more wounds to cater to before the end.”
Scarlett and Samson looked at Roe and, for the first time, recognized him as a prince of the burrow.
*
“His confidence in his old age is what is going to kill him,” Seaver spoke to his younger brother with a surety that wasn't really there.
“So you plan to kill Samson with your sword then?” Tilian answered. “They say he's never been bested.”
“True, which is what makes him the only worthy opponent for me. I've never been bested either.”
“Yes, brother, among the palace guard, never in the pits or in the wilds of the Burrow,” he said, pouring a vial of greenish liquid into a mortar with a pile of white ash at its centre.
“That doesn't matter. The palace guard are the best trained fighters in the Burrow. Besides, you know Father would never let any of us fight in the pits!” Seaver snapped sharply, trying to restrain a whine.
“And the Sky Fighter? He's not so old as Samson.”
“The Sky Fighter. Please, he's just a showman. Killing half starved prisoners in a pit isn't fighting, it's executing a service. I'm surprised Father didn't offer him a position earlier. No, I'm not worried about him. I imagine he'll just run away as he did in the hall once the real fighting begins.”
“Sounds like you have them covered.”
“Look, its for the best, Tilian. I'm the oldest so I'm the one who should be father's second anyway. You'll be right behind me as Rinan will be right behind you. The life of a second is much better anyway. All of the fun but none of the responsibility.”
They were in Gremian's personal armoury, their voices echoing into the gallery and bouncing around the domed mosaic. Around them glittered the greatest collection of fox weaponry to survive from the times of making. Each was a treasure and a work of art whose beauty belied their deadliness. Seaver placed his meat cleaver on the ground and gripped a sword of simple design between his jaws, one so light and so sharp that when he swung it at his brother it made no sound as it cut through the air and through the empty glass vile in his brothers mouth.
The bulbous end smashed onto the hard floor and Tilian quickly spat out the remnant left in his mouth, scared that some of the poison would drip under his tongue.
“You are a fool.” Tilian said calmly. “My potions kill without a swing of the arm or even the breaking of a sweat.”
“Just don't let your potions get in my way. Do we have an understanding?”
Tilian didn't answer him. He didn't need to. Instead he smiled as Seaver's eyes began to water and his jaw contracted and locked onto the blade's handle he had just put in his mouth. Sharp choking sounds lead to convulsions of foam, seeping from the gaps in his mouth. He wore a look of terror and rage and tried to regain enough control to take off his brothers head, but the effort was too much and he collapsed to the floor dead, with a wisp of smoke trailing from his melting teeth.
“You are so good at listening to yourself that you notice nothing of what is actually going on around you. You saw me dip the sword guard in poison when you first came in, you fool. It was intended to be a trap for Samson to aide us both against the enemy. Actually, perhaps it served my purpose after all.”
High above, silently peering between the gallery colonnade pillars, listened Rinan, youngest brother, his small head cocked, wearing a curious and concerned expression.
*
Alodia hadn't seen her husband in over a week, not since his warning on the palace steps. She avoided him, but made sure he was well aware every day that she had remained within the palace walls. He was fickle, and she had seen the result of him suddenly changing his mind. Still, his seeming lack of concern meant she was willing to risk a letter to Daegal. A letter and a response which was a decade in the making.
And his ended with the words, 'Yours as mine. In the end I will find you.”
*
Mercia had kept away from the others over the fortnight, finding the best way to rejuvenate was to scrounge for things to blow up. Most of the items had been discarded by the Hantsa like a small leather sofa, a microwave, two televisions and a stuffed tiger twice her size but she also had bricks and mortar which she slapped together to make a wall to destroy. She had ventured to the surface several times, usually to the spot of her last meal with Roe. She kept telling herself she went there because it was the most convenient spot to
catch the fresh night air, but she knew the real reason. She hoped she might find him waiting for her there. But he never showed and with a final sigh she rigged the old temple in Hyde Park with enough explosives to wake all of Hantsa London.
The reverberation shook the tunnel as she made her way back to the Burrow, causing her to sneeze when a cloud of dust rained down from the ceiling. She stopped for a moment and listened then smirked and said confidantly to herself, “Well, I feel better already.”
*
Roe didn't remain on Ursula's Island for long. He said a swift goodbye that evening to a confused Scarlett and a nodding Samson and returned to the Burrow in a less reckless disguise.
“He is much safer here,” Scarlett said to her father after he left. “I don't understand.”
“He has never been concerned with his own safety. That is nothing new. What is new is his concern for everything else. I think he is finally seeing what he needs to save.”
*
Daegal had hardly left the baths the first week, but after receiving Alodia's letter he roused himself to do what he did best: running the Inari.
A distraught looking Warian gave a relieved sigh from behind his grand desk within the Governor's palace when he saw Daegal approaching.
“Keeping things running smoothly, I trust?” Daegal asked the fox as he trotted past.
“It hasn't been easy! I've done the best that I can!” Warian squeaked, sounding as if he might explode.
“Good to hear it because I will be off again in a week,” Daegal stopped and turned before entering his office and eyed the shivering fox. “Come in Warian. Have a tea with me. I'd like a report, especially concerning our new Shadow Fox friends.”
Warian was stunned. He was finally being invited in for the symbolic Inari 'cup of tea'. He was finally to become a senior member of the gang.
“Well, stop staring and come in to my office Warian,” Daegal barked out of sight. “You can find a suitable replacement to sit behind the desk later. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life seated there?”
Warian hovered for a moment, then looked at the worn leather seat, then smiled and half ran half stumbled into his boss's office.
*
Edward poured water on the brand. Her delicate wrist gave no sign that the woman was so strong. Gwen hadn't cried out, or shed a tear, she simply looked at Gremian calmly as the amused fox put the hot metal to her skin.
“Now you wear the mark of Orva's Spear! Can you understand me, you animal?” he had said before giving Edward the same and stumbling up and out of the dungeon, slamming the wooden door behind him, leaving the small oil lamp behind.
“At least the guard has started to give us water,” Gwen smiled, her grey-green eyes glittering with the flame.
“And food,” Edward replied through dry and cracked lips. “If you can call this food.”
“Let's pretend it's my cottage pie,” she said, gathering him in towards the light, “and that we are in the Tabard, a fire in the hearth.”
“A fire in the hearth.” Edward agreed, leaning into her.
*
As February came to a silent end, Gremian peered out his bay window at the Burrow spread out below him. A fire crackled in the wall behind and its dancing flames reflected off the glass. From the outside it appeared Gremian had set himself on alight.
A swift knock at his door came close to the tick of midnight and surprised him out of his gaze.
“Come.”
The door swung quietly open, just far enough for a single head to poke through. It was Isen.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we've figured out how to activate the orb. How to begin the cleansing.”
Gremian turned back to the window, his breath gathering on the panes.
Isen remained stuck in the door, not sure what to do, until Gremian finally broke the silence.
“Good, Isen, you may go and you may keep your tongue.”
*
Roe woke suddenly, drenched in sweat. The Shadow Foxes with whom he had been helping to build a well were scattered, still sleeping, around him. He breathed the cool damp air of Shadow Fall in great gulps and steadied himself against the mud and stone wall of the well. A distant bell tolled signally the start of a new day. The first of March had arrived and he knew what he had to do. He had to save the world.
Chapter Fifteen
Dozens of waterfalls cascaded in the dim light of the crystal lined cavern. Its walls and ceiling stood at least a trot apart or more, glistening and shimmering like a clear night sky. If a fox looked long enough they would no longer see water on stone but the twinkle of the cosmos. Adding to the view was the endless echo of rainfall.
Perched high above, with a wide roaring waterfall several tail-lengths beneath her, Scarlett gasped at the beauty of the view. She was the first to arrive in the still hours of the morning, having found the route to their meeting place both by the directions Mercia had given her and by asking a few local pups the night before.
It was a popular spot for young lovers, and she had frightened such a pair away with her arrival, mistaking her for a palace guard, or worse, a parent looking for her children.
“Nowhere in the Burrow, not even the Great Library, can compete with the beauty of this place,” she said to herself.
“Yes,” Daegal agreed, lumbering beside her out of the dark. “Even members of the regime come here sometimes. That is probably the only reason why this place hasn't been blocked off. Are we the first, then?”
“Yes,” Scarlett answered, transfixed by the view. “Sunrise will be soon, within the next ten minutes. I was beginning to worry that I would find the hole and have no key.”
“They'll be here. Neither of them know how to be on time.”
“Unless Roe has decided not to pursue this. Perhaps he has abandoned the Burrow.”
“Roe has been known to run, but only from tedium, never from danger,” Mercia said, trotting up to the Well of Begging and peering down its depths. “I've thrown so many wishes down here over the years and none of them have come true. That doesn't mean I've given up hope though. It just means good things are yet to come.”
“You are in a positive mood this morning,” Daegal said, turning from the view. “Where is our reliably grumpy Mercia?”
Her rucksack was filled with a variety of newly designed explosives and she proudly swung it to the ground.
“She's had her own combustible form of rest and relaxation and come up with a whole package full of new goodies.” She pulled four differently shaped devices out of her pack, as she spoke, and displayed them neatly on the paving. “This slim little cylinder can be neatly concealed and I call it the 'Whisker Tickler'. This flat flying disc can be tossed a great distance before it explodes downwards. I was thinking, 'Death From Above' is a good name, but not a very original one. This little pyramid shaped brute is a mine. I just call it 'Ouch'. Anyway, now that we have located the well, has anyone counted our dark little stars?”
“No, I was waiting to give you the honours,” Scarlett said, eyeing Mercia with a cheeky smile.
“Well, if nothing comes of this riddle, we can always wedge a few of these in the spot and blow our way through,” Mercia said, nudging her pack eagerly while the others gave a short laugh.
“What is that forth one called?” Daegal asked.
“Oh, this fat black iron ball? Well, that has a name but it's only for special occasions.”
“That is very reassuring, Mercia,” a voice said from below them.
The three looked carefully over the edge, droplets quickly gathering on their whiskers from the heavy mist. They scanned the dark below the cliff only to see the shadowy form of Roe, his blue eyes floating above the falls, climbing out of the void towards them.
“I was up early today,” he said as he pulled himself onto flat ground. “The view is beautiful here, but nothing compared to being amongst all that falling water.”
“Have you been here all this time?” Scarlett aske
d, concerned he may have overheard her earlier statement.
“I've been here for hours now, getting lost in the roar,” he smiled at her. “Haven't gotten much sleep tonight, but I'm excited to see what the sunrise has to offer. One that is swiftly upon us I believe,” he said turning and indicating towards the view.
A single beam of light, somehow channelled from the surface to that deep place then cut through the air and disappeared amongst the turmoil of a distant waterfall. Another appeared, and then another, and another until the number of beams of light were too many to count. Each began to randomly strike the many crystals lining the walls, shattering the light further into a criss-crossed array of bright lines creating a kaleidoscope sun in the cavern. One such ray seemed to organize itself and like a purposeful finger it pointed at a star positioned directly over the well. As more points of light gathered within the chamber, the small single beam merged with the others and, as it did so, shifted and shook, sprouting ears of light, a bright body with tail and a shadow lined face. A faint groan could be heard coming from some distant place and with it the illuminated fox became animate and began to run, leaping over a star with each passing second.
“Quickly!” Scarlett yelled, “Follow that light.”
They counted each star as the animal bounded over it, seeming to take an age but by the time the count had reached thirty the light had increased in its intensity and the fox spun, chasing its tail, then froze on a spot a tail-length below a black star near a bend in the tunnel.
Nothing happened.
A minute passed, and the many paths of light within the cavern began to fade, as if their collective strength was being sacrificed to keep the illuminated fox on the back wall animated.
The Progeny of Able (The Burrow of London Series Book 1) Page 28
