Duncton Wood (49 page)

The fact that they were so nearly caught was a blessing in disguise, for it warned Bracken of the dangers they now faced. It seemed to him that the only possibility open to him was to get as far away from the top of the hill as possible, to somewhere where they could find friends. And that meant Rebecca’s hideaway down in the eastern Marsh End.

Of their trek down there, which took almost three days, almost every terrifying detail is known, for it was a memory that Violet was to carry with her for the rest of, her life and accounts of which now lie recorded in the Rolls of the Systems in the libraries of Uffington.

What Violet never said, however, was that the real reason for their delay was her incredible slowness and her inability to understand the danger they were in. At moments when they were close to being sighted by pursuing henchmoles, or when Bracken was despairing of ever keeping her alive, or when the cold of January seemed certain to freeze them both to death, she would ask some irrelevant question like “Who
is
that stonemole, then?” or “Do you really know where we’re going because I’m getting bored?” or “If
he
was Mandrake, who was that big mole?” Or she would declare in a loud voice that would shatter the silence they were trying to sneak through “I’m hungry!”

But while she may have driven Bracken mad, perhaps her continual puppish ebullience kept his spirits up as well.

They were under pressure from henchmoles from the moment they started down the slopes toward the eastside. On their flanks, behind, sometimes in front, henchmoles chased them, cutting back and forth in numbers across the wood’s floor to find their scent and track them down. Bracken avoided them, partly by sticking to the surface the whole time – except for once, when he had to use a tunnel to escape several henchmoles coming for them from different directions – but mainly by his extraordinary ability, developed in his long period of solo exploration in the Ancient System, to foresee route alternatives and take the one that would confound his enemies. He himself later pinned his success on the fact that thawing snow created temporary rivulets, particularly just below the slopes, which masked their scent tracks.

However, they avoided rather than lost their pursuers and by the third day, when they were nearing Curlew’s burrows, they were being very hard-pressed. The more so because, unknown to Bracken, the pressure to find them had been increased by Rune’s decision to join the search and abandon Mandrake to the central part of the Ancient System, where he seemed content to stay. Henchmoles only remained up there to monitor his movements while Rune rapidly went down the slopes to find out who these two moles were who had escaped so mysteriously from the Ancient System.

By the time Bracken realized in horror that his own arrival might lead to the discovery of Rebecca and Comfrey and Curlew by leading the henchmoles to their tunnels, it was too late – henchmoles seemed to have cut off any other route. All he could do was to make a final dash ahead and hope he would be in time to warn Rebecca.

On the afternoon of the third day, when the weather was turning bitterly cold again and the light in the wood was gloomy and dark. Bracken finally reached the entrance to Curlew’s tunnel. Henchmoles were not far behind and so he pushed Violet down it with an instruction (which he had scant hope would be carried out) for her to warn them that he was there, and turned round to ward off any henchmole who might come and surprise them.

Violet tottered complainingly down into the tunnels, saying she was hungry and she hoped there was some
nice
mole around who would do the proper thing and produce a worm or two, or three, and that Bracken never answered any of her questions, and aren’t there any moles here
at all?
She found herself face to face with Mekkins, who had advanced warily up the tunnel to see what the fuss was about.

“Hullo,” said Mekkins, “and who are you, then?”

“Violet, I’m hungry.”

“Yes, so I heard. I expect Rebecca’ll find you something.”

“He’s up there,” said Violet, looking back up the tunnel, “he said to warn you.”

When Mekkins saw Bracken, he was relieved to see him safe but shocked at how terribly weary he was. But a moment’s account of what had happened soon explained why.

“I’ve come ‘ere myself to take them away,” said Mekkins, “’cos I could see the way things are goin’. There’s only one place where they’ll be safe, and that’s out of the system.”

“But where?” asked Bracken.

“With Rose, on the pastures. It’ll be risky getting them there and might even be risky once they’re there, because Rose’s protection may not be enough. But anywhere else... Well...”

Bracken was almost falling off his paws with tiredness. But still he snouted into the gloom for signs of henchmoles.

“They’ll not come this far yet, surely?” said Mekkins.

“Yes they will,” sighed Bracken. “There seems to be so many of them and they’re so determined to find us that they keep on and on. They nearly caught us several times. You’ve got to get out of here, Mekkins. I’m sorry...”

“Listen, chum. You’ve worked a bloody marvel. The more I know about you and Rebecca, the less I understand. But don’t
you
say you’re
sorry.
Now look, there’s no sign of them at the moment, and it would take them a while to find these tunnels anyway, so you go down and rest for a bit and I’ll keep a watch out and come down later to work out what to do. You send Curlew up as well, ‘cos there’s something she can do...”

Mekkins had nothing for Curlew to do at all, but he knew that Rebecca had been worried about Bracken. Let ’em have a few minutes together for Stone’s sake, he said to himself. Don’t ask me what it’s about, he added, shaking his head and turning his attention to the gathering dark.

But Mekkins’ sentimentality was misplaced. Bracken was too tired, Rebecca already too aware of the dangers in the system, and Comfrey too afraid of Bracken’s size and different smell for there to be much between any of them. Only Violet seemed unaffected by it all. Bracken laid his head on his paws and looked curiously at the thin and nervous Comfrey. Why, he liked Violet better! As for Rebecca and him, neither could believe that they had really made a journey to the center of the system together. Surely that was two different moles? The burrow was small and cramped, the atmosphere fearful, and everything in flux. There was the feeling that nothing could be permanent and that the system of Mandrake was giving way to something worse. As for Bracken, he was beginning to feel tired of running, always running, and half felt inclined to go out onto the surface and do some final battle with the henchmoles. But then he fell asleep.

Rebecca watched over him, wondering as she looked, almost for the first time, at a mole she hardly knew, and who seemed a stranger, why she was so moved by every start and turn in his fitful and uneasy sleep. Who is he? she wondered. She wanted to draw Comfrey to her and say to him “Look, that’s your father, his name’s Bracken, he’s a brave mole.” But wisely she let him be.

Comfrey was having problems of his own, anyway, with Violet – who might just as well have woken from a long refreshing sleep for all the sign she showed of tiredness from a three-day escape from Rune’s henchmoles.

“What’s your name?” she asked him.

“C-C-Comfrey,” he finally got out.

“Why can’t you speak properly?”

Silence.

“Well, at least you could ask
my
name, which is Violet.”

“Where do you come from?” tried Comfrey.

“Rue’s tunnels, near where the Stone Mole lives.”

“Who’s the St – Stone Mole?”

“He
is, silly,” said Violet, pointing at the sleeping Bracken. Violet turned away, looking a little miserable. Now that Bracken was asleep, she felt alone. He was all she had.

Rebecca stretched a motherly paw to her and pulled her to her flank. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, my love,” said Rebecca, and bit by bit Violet did, her little defenses dropping as she relaxed at last into a mole who seemed almost as cuddly as Rue. “What’s going to happen?” Violet asked much later. Rebecca could see how alone she was, and how near to tears. Bracken’s daughter. Bracken’s son. He couldn’t have done more for them. Now perhaps she could care for them while they grew up.

“Rebecca! Bracken!” It was Curlew, running back into the burrow. “Wake up, Bracken! The henchmoles are coming!” How Curlew had changed since Rebecca had first come! True, her fur was still rough and patchy – but her spirits were so full and high, and her body straighter and prouder than it had been. “You’ve got to leave, Rebecca, almost immediately,” she said.

Mekkins came running down. “They’re almost here,” he said, “and they’ll find these tunnels very soon. There’s an exit nearer the marshes and I’ll take you all out by that.”

Bracken did not move. He did not even get up. He was tired of running. “You go, I’ll stay. I can hold them back for a while.”

As Mekkins and Rebecca started to argue. Bracken got up and slowly faced them. His gaze was clear and there was an enormous authority about what he said that left no mole there in any doubt that he would do what he intended.

“I led them here and I’ll lead them away again, in a different direction to where you’re going. Don’t worry, Mekkins, I won’t try to fight them all by myself. But with luck I can lead them off your scent, and you, Rebecca and these two,” he pointed to Comfrey and Violet, “can get away to Rose the Healer.”

Violet started to protest, but Bracken gazed at her with such strength and love that she simply retreated back to Rebecca’s flank and waited for once for the adults to do whatever they had to do. “Rebecca will take care of you and I’ll be back,” Bracken said gently to her. “And don’t you chatter so much this time!”

For a moment Rebecca and Bracken stared across the burrow at each other and the light that seemed to have gone from them shone again, and time was not important. Why, it’s there and always will be, thought Rebecca, knowing it was true.

“I’m not going either,” said Curlew suddenly. “These are my tunnels and they’ve served me well, and I’ll defend them. I couldn’t live anywhere else, anyway.” Her mind was quite made up so that, with a shake of his head in puzzlement, Mekkins led Rebecca and the youngsters away, and the burrow was suddenly silent of them.

“There’s a tunnel I’ll show you, off to the east,” said Curlew. “It goes for quite a way. If they come, I’ve got a way of holding them up for a bit so you go down there and lead them off away from the west, where Mekkins will be. Every little bit gives them time.”

With a thumping overhead and shouts, the henchmoles did come, not long after, and Curlew tried her old trick on them. “There’s disease here, contagious disease,” she hissed up the tunnel at them.

It worked for a while until a cold authoritative voice came out of the bitter night to the henchmole who was hesitating.

“Get down there now or I’ll kill you with my own talons,” it said. Down in the central burrow. Bracken recognized with a shudder the voice of Rune. So he was here! And then there was a thump and a gasp, and old Curlew was outnumbered and outfought as the henchmoles rushed past her and down to where Bracken crouched.

He raced away down the tunnel she had shown him and out into the night, and chased desperately this way and that across the frozen ground, making as much noise as possible and heading for the north and east toward the marsh. Henchmoles were thick on the ground, and more than once he came face to face with one before twisting away into the dark, saved only by their own confusion at each other’s noise. Sometimes he hid in silence and let them chase around him; then, when they seemed to be drifting back to the west, toward where Rebecca, Violet and Comfrey might be with Mekkins, he would make a noise again and they would swing back toward him.

If the night was cold, the dawn was colder. It rose bleakly on a wood full of hate and fear. There was a hoarfrost on the trees and ground which gave the wood a deceptive white calm but meant that the slightest movement brought a crackling of frozen leaves and vegetation.

Bracken was now very tired and responded with a start of alarm at every movement around him. He wanted to run back, or forward, or wherever they were and say “Here I am. Here! It’s over. You’ve got what you want!”

Then a henchmole moved somewhere and he was oS again, paw in front of paw, twisting and turning and trying to think ahead of himself, trying not to drown in his own breathlessness and succumb at last to the tiredness he felt. Noises all around, and white-coated twigs and leaves that would have seemed delicate and beautiful had a mole had time to look.

On through the lightening mauve of dawn, nearer and nearer to the wood’s edge, nearer and nearer now to the marsh. He could sense the dreadful space stretching out somewhere beyond the trees and tried to cut away from it back into the bigger trees. But henchmoles were there, more of them running, distant shouts, nearby sneakings of talons on the frosty ground. He was forced nearer and nearer to the marsh.

Sounds to the right and left, the fearful light and space ahead, no other way to go for a desperate mole, paw after paw unsteadily in front of each other, shoulders aching with effort.

Then he was out of the wood and tumbling down a short bank under an old wire fence to a wall of alien marsh grass and the smell of the unknown. Off to the right two henchmoles came out of the wood as well, down the bank, looked right and then left and saw him; and they were coming, coming, their paws and talons pounding, bigger and nearer with each moment. He looked back along the marsh grass to his left toward the west and there were other henchmoles, several, sneaking steadily along toward him. Desperate, he turned around to look back up the bank he had fallen down, so steep, so tired, each gasp a pain for life. Perhaps he could make it back into the wood, perhaps his near-dead, aching legs would take him back. Perhaps.

Then Rune was there. Rune out on the bank looking down at him. A nightmare come true. Rune triumphant. Rune about to say something. Rime’s mouth open and Ms talons ready, as left and right the henchmoles came.