Текст книги "Quest for the Faradawn"

Автор книги: Richard Ford

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When Warrigal was certain that Nab was fully aware of the situation he indicated to him to pull the curtains shut so as to prevent the light pouring out; if any of the Urkku saw it they would definitely come to investigate. Then he flew back down to the door, where Bruin and Brock were making good progress and Sam was waiting for him anxiously. He told them in hushed tones of what had happened and that everything had gone smoothly; Nab was now waiting for them. Brock was particularly thrilled at the thought that Warrigal had actually seen the boy and that he would soon be with them again and, while Sam went down to tell Perryfoot and Bruin carried on at the door, he plied the owl with questions as to his appearance and how he seemed in himself. Warrigal was pleased for his friend; he knew how hard the effect would be on the badger if things turned out badly.

Soon it was Brock’s turn at the door again; the pile of splinters and shavings had now grown quite large and there was a definite indentation into the wood. He leant forward to bite off some large splinters that were getting in the way and then, sinking his claw into the wood again, he felt it go through. Overjoyed he went to work with renewed energy and soon there was a small jagged hole through which he could see the little entrance hall and, leading from it at the back, the stairs up which Sam had said they must go to find Nab. He wanted to carry on but the muscles of his shoulders had begun to ache and the pads of his paws were very sore. He pointed out the hole to the others and then limped painfully to one side to allow Bruin to carry on. It shouldn’t be too much longer now, he thought; all they needed was a hole big enough to squeeze through. Sam stood by the hole watching carefully and listening for any sounds inside that might tell hint whether any of the household were awake. There was silence except for the rhythmic scraping of Bruin’s claws against the door as the hole grew wider. Soon Sam saw that the job was done and he put his paw on the old badger’s shoulder to tell him to stop. It was time to go on in.

Warrigal gathered them all together and whispered quietly. ‘Sam, you know the way so you lead us to the room. Brock, you go next and I will follow you. Bruin, I think you should stay just here, by the door, so that if the worst happens and the Urkku spot us you may be in a position to help. Now, is that all right with everyone? Good. Off we go then.’

As Bruin took up his position by the door Sam went through the jagged opening and found himself once again in the familiar surroundings of the house where he had lived for as long as he could remember. Their familiarity made the danger they were in seem unreal. There were no lights on. He walked gently across the few paces of tiled floor to the bottom of the stairs. Brock was squeezing himself gingerly through the hole, taking care not to get caught on one of the jagged splinters that were left around it. He could see Sam waiting for him. He realized with a shock of excitement that he was in an Urkku dwelling for the first, and probably the last time. His paws found it difficult to get a grip on the smooth floor and his claws made a slight rattling noise as he walked slowly across the tiles; he looked carefully all around him, into the kitchen on his right and the living room with chairs, tables, pictures and the red dying embers of a fire: the strange smells made his nose wrinkle and some of them threatened to catch in his throat and make him cough. When he joined Sam he turned round and watched Warrigal hop up and perch for a second in the hole before flying silently across to sit on the bottom stair. ‘Right, ’ he whispered softly, and Sam began to make his way up the stairs with Brock following and Warrigal waiting behind. Brock found climbing these strange angles difficult at first but he watched Sam and copied the way he moved and before they reached the top he had got the hang of it; putting his front paws on the next stair, gripping and then bringing his back legs up to join them with a little jump. Once or twice the stairs creaked and to the animals it sounded like a thunderclap but luckily none of the Urkku seemed to have been woken, and Sam, having listened attentively for a few seconds each time, beckoned them on. Brock’s paws now felt as if they were on something soft, like a very coarse moss, and he found it easier to move than on the tiles. He watched Sam arrive at the top of the stairs and walk along the landing a few paces, where he stopped and waited for Brock to catch up. Then Warrigal took off from the bottom and flew up the space over the stairs to join them. Sam thought how strange it was to see the owl flying around the house like a brown shadow and he had to blink his eyes to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. But no; when he opened them again there was Brock by his side and Warrigal perched on a banister rail, both animals looking to him for guidance as to the next move. He led them along the landing past the three doors on their left which led into the bedrooms where the Urkku were sleeping and finally turned the comer on to the small landing where Nab’s room was. They stopped outside the door and Sam indicated that this was it. So far, so good, he thought, but now the really difficult part of the operation would begin; if the noise of Brock’s scratching at the door didn’t wake his master or mistress it would be the work of the elves. Warrigal walked back along the little landing until he reached the corner where there was a banister post; he flew up and folded his talons around the top of it to perch there and keep a watch along the main landing. When the badger saw that he was in position he started once again the painful process of gouging away the door. As soon as he had started he heard footsteps inside the room and his heart lifted with joy at the realization that Nab was just on the other side. He worked very slowly; partly to make as little noise as possible and partly because of the pain in his paws which had started while he was working on the main door and which now had become almost unbearable. It was made worse by the fact that he was on his own now and couldn’t have a rest while Bruin took over. His pads had started to bleed and as he scratched he left smudges and streaks of red behind. Sam indicated to him that this door was less thick than the other and luckily the wood was nowhere near as solid. Nevertheless, as the work progressed painstakingly slowly, he wondered how he was going to finish. He had to though; he felt responsible for letting all this happen in the first place, despite what the others said, and it would be totally unthinkable for him to admit defeat with the boy just the other side of the door. This was Nab; whom he had found as a baby on that snowfilled night long ago; whom he had taken back to his earth and whom Tara had suckled and looked after as a cub. No; if anything happened to the boy, life for him would lose all its purpose.

As these thoughts filled Brock’s mind his paws grew mercifully numb; he lost all sensation of pain and the work was now mechanical, a matter of moving his claws to the correct place and using his shoulder muscles to pull them in the right direction. Sam stood half-way between Warrigal and the door; his head cocked on one side and his ears erect, listening for any sounds. After what seemed to all the animals to be an age, Brock finally saw that there was a small hole right through the door and he gestured to Sam to come over and look. While they were both examining the hole they became aware of a light thumping noise coming up the stairs. They turned round and saw Perryfoot turning the corner of the small landing and stopping to talk to Warrigal. He looked anxious and had obviously sprinted from his post outside in great haste. The dog and the badger walked quietly along the landing to meet him.

‘I heard an Urkku vehicle coming down the track. We’re trapped! He’s bound to see the hole in the door and come looking to see who has done it.’ Suddenly, as Perryfoot was talking, the darkness on the landing was split by a great shaft of light which shone through a window at the end, and outside they could hear the unfamiliar but unmistakable sound of a car. The beam of light seemed to move across the landing as the car turned in the yard and the engine stopped and then after a few seconds it went out. Sam spoke in a hushed whisper.

‘It’ll be one of the two young Urkku. They often go out at night and come back at this time but they rarely go together so with luck there will only be one. I’d forgotten about it. Brock, you’ve nearly finished the hole. I will try and keep him downstairs for as long as I can while you complete it and bring Nab out. I’ll try to keep him in the kitchen, so when you go out through the front door I’ll be on your left. Don’t wait for me.’ He paused, and they all heard footsteps coming across the yard. Sam turned away from them and ran along the main landing and down the stairs while Brock went back to Nab’s door and continued the familiar routine of scratching and biting while Perryfoot and Warrigal remained on the comer.

As Sam bounded down the stairs his head was in a turmoil trying to think of a plan to keep his master from going upstairs. He decided he would just have to take things as they came. As he reached the tiles at the bottom the door was just opening. It was the one they called Chris; of the two, this was the brother Sam preferred. He seemed to have less of a streak of cruelty in him than the other. Sam decided that he must appear overjoyed to see him; that way he would be noticed more and could play for time. He began to wag his tail furiously and jump up, panting in an attempt to try and lick his face.

‘Hello, Sam. What’s up with you tonight? You’re very pleased I’m back. You’re normally too lazy to stir yourself from the fire. I wonder what’s got into you. I don’t suppose it’s anything to do with this door is it? It’s mighty odd.’ He bent down to examine the hole more closely. At least this was giving them time, Sam thought, but he must get him into the kitchen otherwise they wouldn’t be able to escape from the house. As the Urkku got up Sam wagged his tail again.

‘What do you want? Perhaps it’s a drink you’re after. Come on; I’ll give you one in your bowl in the kitchen,’ and he patted Sam on the head as he led him through. This was easier than Sam had anticipated even though it hadn’t been planned. They went over to the sink and Chris filled Sam’s bowl from the tap and put it down in a comer.

‘Oh, well. I can’t leave that door like that all night; it’ll be freezing in the morning. I’ll just put some carpet over it and then I’m off. Goodnight, Sam,’ and he started towards the open kitchen door.

This is it, thought Sam, who was standing between his master and the door. He’s going to go upstairs.

‘Out of the way, Sam. Let me get past.’

The dog continued wagging his tail.

‘You can’t be hungry; I fed you myself earlier on this evening. I’ve given you water. Now come on, don’t be silly, I’m tired,’ and he tried to walk round the dog.

I’m going to have to keep him here by force, Sam thought, and he suddenly sprang back so that he was barring the doorway and began to growl with all the menace he could muster. He thought of Rufus and of all the times he’d seen this Urkku killing and maiming his friends from the woods and fields and his anger grew so that his hackles rose into a great spiked ridge along his back and his lips pulled up into furrows on either side of his mouth, showing his two great fangs and the rows of teeth behind them. He stood there with his feet set squarely apart and his body quivering, ready to pounce; little drops of saliva began to fall on to the floor. The Urkku was frightened; Sam could smell the fear and the smell stuck in his nose and made him more angry.

‘Sam!’ Chris said. ‘Get back. What’s got into you? Let me get past.’ But there was no authority behind the orders; the supreme confidence that all commands would be unhesitatingly obeyed had evaporated before this transformed creature.

Upstairs Brock was frantically tearing at the hole with his mouth and on the other side, he could see, to his great relief, Nab’s fingers also pulling at it. Suddenly the night was shattered by a loud cry from downstairs.

‘Jeff, come and get this dog off me; it’s gone mad.’

Nab would have to try and get through the hole now; there was no more time. Warrigal and Perryfoot looked desperately at Brock, who called to the boy.

‘Come on,’ he whispered hoarsely.

Nab put his head down and pushed it through but when he tried to follow up with his shoulders they stuck on the sharp jagged splinters at either side. He pushed harder, trying to contract so that his shoulders were hunched forward.

Inside the two bedrooms, the Urkku were waking from their restless sleep. The cry from downstairs had finally broken into the fitful state of half dreams which had kept them tossing and turning for the past two or three hours and, when it came again, the Urkku Jeff pushed the bedclothes back, cursing quietly to himself, and got out of bed. Pausing only to reach under it for his gun he put his slippers on and ran downstairs. When he got into the kitchen he saw his brother cowering in a corner with Sam snarling ferociously in front.

How much longer would they be, thought Sam. It was impossible to keep both of them in here and, besides, he had seen what that gun could do.

Upstairs the boy was still squeezing his shoulders and arms through the hole but as he pushed, the splinters cut into his arms and scraped away the flesh. At that moment, round the comer, the old Urkku came out of the bedroom to be confronted by an owl perched on the banister post in front of him and a huge hare crouching on the landing. Warrigal stared at him, blinked twice and took off silently to glide down the little landing while the hare followed.

‘Mother, come out here,’he said. ‘I don’t believe what I’m seeing.’

Nab was just pulling his feet through the hole when Warrigal and Perryfoot came up to them. The owl spoke.

‘Come quickly. There are two Urkku on the landing blocking our way. We shall have to charge past them. Brock, you go first; you’re big enough to knock them over if they are in our path. Then you, Nab, then Perryfoot and I’ll come last. Don’t stop for anyone and don’t look back. Now, run!’

Brock steeled himself to forget about the pain in his lacerated pads and with all the energy he could gather he bolted off down the small landing, turned the corner and hurtled straight into the legs of the old farmer, who fell back against his wife as she was coming out of the bedroom door.

‘Look, Mother!’ he shouted, and they both stared in amazement from where they had fallen on the floor as Brock dashed past followed by the boy and then a hare and an owl. ‘Stop them, Jeff!’ the old man shouted. ‘They’re coming down the stairs.’

In the kitchen Sam, to his relief, heard the sound of the animals pounding down the stairs and saw the Urkku known as Jeff look round towards the door and begin to walk towards it. If Sam didn’t move quickly the animals would be caught before they could get through. The dog sprang forward and seized his master’s ankle in his teeth, pulling and wrenching at it to try and topple him over. With a cry of pain Jeff swung the rifle butt down and it caught Sam on his head so hard that for an instant he was dazed and let go. At that moment he saw Brock in the doorway followed by the others as they all dived through the hole in the front door. He dashed out into the hall just as Perryfoot’s brown furry back disappeared outside.

‘Quick,’ said Warrigal, hovering just above him. Sam looked back into the kitchen to see Jeff limping towards them with his gun raised to his shoulder.

‘I’ll get you for this, you damn mongrel,’ he yelled, but he was prevented from shooting because the old Master and Mistress had just appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

‘Out of the way, Dad,’ but Sam was through the hole and the owl had followed.

Outside the door Warrigal looked for Bruin. He was standing crouched in the shadows to the right. ‘Run, Bruin,’ he called. Suddenly the door opened and the yard was bathed in light; the Urkku Jeff dashed out and stood with his gun to his shoulder about to fire at the animals who were halfway towards the cowshed at the end. Bruin sprang forward, knocking him on to the ground and the gun clattered as it fell to the concrete. The old badger stood with his great weight on the man’s chest so that he was pinned down and unable to move.

‘Help me, Chris,’ he shouted and the brother ran over and put his hands on Bruin’s two front legs to try to pull him off. The badger quickly sank his fangs into the Urkku’s left forearm and with a squeal of pain he staggered back. Bruin looked up and saw Sam and Warrigal turning the corner at the end of the yard and disappearing out of sight. ‘They should be safe now,’ he thought to himself, and he jumped off the Urkku and began to run as fast as he could after the others but his old limbs no longer had the speed of youth and, though he knew he was moving, the corner of the yard seemed to get no nearer. By the time he was halfway down it his legs had begun to ache and feel heavy with tiredness. There was plenty of time for the Urkku Jeff to pick up his gun, take careful aim and empty both barrels into the old badger.

CHAPTER XI

When Brock had turned the corner of the yard he had waited until Nab was at his side and then they had both run without looking back until they reached the edge of Near Wood at the side of the field and they waited there, at the same tree where the animals had gathered on their way to rescue Nab, until Sam and Perryfoot joined them. There was no sign of Bruin or Warrigal. They waited, huddled up against the oak tree for shelter from the biting wind, but as time went on their hearts began to get heavy with the awful realization that something terrible had happened. Eventually out of the darkness they could see, to their relief, the shadow of the owl gliding towards them. He flew down and perched on a low branch.

‘They killed him,’ he said simply, as the animals looked up at him. ‘I stayed behind on one of the roofs in the dark where they couldn’t see me and saw everything. He died so we could escape.’ Warrigal told them what had happened by the farm door and in the yard. When he had finished they all remained silent for a long time, nursing their grief until Warrigal roused them out of their state of shock by reminding them that they were still far from home and much too close to the farm for safety when dawn arrived. Wearily the animals started to walk along the side of the wood, back the way they had come earlier that night when Bruin had been with them. Contact with the Urkku had left them all emotionally shocked and the loss of Bruin had been the final horror. Brock, of course, felt his grandfather’s loss more keenly than the others but he had been an extremely popular and highly respected member of the wood and none of them could grasp the fact that he was dead. And Rufus, killed as well, two of the most important members of the Council lost in the space of a day. As the animals trudged slowly homeward each became lost in a fitful daydream in which confused visions of Rufus, Bruin, the farmhouse, the doors and the Urkku all became jumbled together into a waking nightmare. Brock, Nab and Sam were also badly injured; Brock from his pads which were now so numb he could hardly feel them except for the fact that the blood made them stick to the grass as he walked, Sam from the blow on his head which was now throbbing painfully in the cold wind, and Nab whose arms and shoulders had great open cuts in them. For Nab, the joy he felt at seeing the animals again and his immense relief at being free were overshadowed with sorrow at the loss of Rufus and Bruin, both of whom, he realized, had died for him. As the sun began to rise in the grey wintry sky they were by the pond: they could see the familiar trees of Silver Wood and they began to realize that, despite the death of Bruin, they had been successful in a venture that had seemed almost impossible when they set out. Soon they were crossing the field, which was covered in a sprinkling of frost, and when they had crawled under the fence into the wood, they gathered outside Brock’s earth under the Great Beech. Warrigal said that he must go off and tell Wythen but that the others should get some rest. They would meet again at dawn the following day.

‘Where shall I stay?’ asked Sam. They had forgotten that it would be quite impossible now for him to go back with the Urkku; he would have to remain in the wood. It was decided that the best place for him, at least temporarily, was in Nab’s rhododendron bush. The animals then dispersed; Warrigal to the Great Oak, Perryfoot out to the hedge in the field, Sam and Nab to the rhododendron and Brock down the earth to face Tara with the sad news of Bruin’s death but also to give her the good news of Nab’s safe return. When he told her of the boy’s injuries, she took Brock back up with her and the two badgers joined the boy and the dog. While Nab was sleeping she licked his wounds clean and then carried on licking so that they would heal more quickly.

The animals slept all that day and all the following night and, as they still showed no signs of waking at the appointed time, Warrigal, who had gone into the bush to see where they were, let them sleep on until the evening, by which time Brock and Sam were awake and stretching themselves to try and ease their aching limbs of the stiffness which had come over them. Sam’s head and Brock’s paws still hurt but now that they were refreshed after their delicious sleep they felt far more able to cope with their injuries. Just then Perryfoot came in to join them and Brock went over and licked Nab’s face. The boy sprang up in fear but when he realized where he was he almost cried with joy and he went round greeting all the animals in turn and thanking them for rescuing him, for he realized he had not had time before. He told them everything that had happened from the time he and Rufus had spotted the Urkku in the wood until he’d heard the knocking on the window and opened the curtains to see, to his amazement and relief, Warrigal perched outside.

‘I have called an emergency Council Meeting for tonight,’ said the owl when everyone had settled down. The wood must be told of events; rumours are going round already of a mass slaughter of all the Council leaders. No Urkku have been seen near the wood since we got back so it would seem that, for the time being at any rate, you are safe here, Nab. Wythen has been to see the Elflord and he has indicated that the time has now come for you to meet him. Brock will go with you and I will take you there. I have been once before, as is the custom when an owl reaches his maturity, and my father feels that, as he is getting older, I should make myself better acquainted with the Elflord. We will set out immediately after the Council Meeting.’

So, thought Brock, this was the time he had been dreading ever since Warrigal had told him that the Elflord was involved. In fact it came as something of a relief in a way, that the moment had finally come. Nab was extremely excited at the prospect although he also felt little butterflies of fear fluttering in his stomach, not so much at the prospect of meeting the Elflord but at the thought of what might be revealed to him about his future. Ever since he could remember veiled references and allusions had been made about his part in the destiny of the animals and how he was the fulfilment of a legend. Now perhaps he would learn what they all meant.

Warrigal interrupted their thoughts.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It’s time to go.’

Most of the animals had already arrived at the familiar semi-circle on the far side of the little stream, eager to learn the true story of what had happened two nights ago for fantastic tales had already begun to circulate about the rescue. The Council were all sitting in their places along the far side of the old fallen tree trunk although the vacant places at the end of the log where Bruin and Rufus usually sat made it painfully obvious that the events of that night had been fatal to two of the most respected members of the wood.

Everywhere was covered with a silver coating of ground frost which winked and sparkled in the moonlight and made the dead bracken on the ground hard and crunchy so that as Brock, Tara, Sam, Perryfoot and, last of all, Nab, walked into the meeting the sound of their footsteps made all eyes turn towards them and a sudden murmur of conversation rippled among the animals. Feeling very embarrassed, the animals sat down just to the left of the entrance in a space hurriedly vacated for them by some rabbits at a sign from Pictor. Warrigal had flown into the clearing over the top of the bushes and was perched on a silver birch branch to the right of the log. Wythen’s head turned slowly round until he saw his son and then he looked back at the semi-circle where all the woodland animals were now waiting expectantly for him to open the meeting.

‘Welcome to you all,’ he said, as he always did whenever he first addressed a meeting. ‘I have called this emergency Council together so that the wood may be informed of certain dramatic, and indeed tragic events which took place two nights ago. In the broadest terms they concern the capture and, as you can see, the successful rescue of Nab from the hands of the Urkku.’ He waited until the shuffling of the animals as they all turned to look at the boy had stopped and then he continued. ‘As you may also see, these events led to the deaths, caused by the Urkku, of Bruin the Brave and Rufus the Red, both of whom will be sorely missed, both by myself personally for they were my friends, and by the wood as a whole. I feel sure, however, that their names and exploits will live on for ever in the annals of legend and myth so that they will never die and their spirits will watch over us.’ He paused and there was an expectant hush. ‘I will now call upon Nab to give an account of his capture and the killing of Rufus.’

The events of the past two days and nights had been so swift moving and shattering that Nab was still half-dazed by them and, when Brock pushed him forward, he had no time to be nervous and gave a vivid account of everything that had happened since he and Rufus first spotted the Urkku outside Silver Wood. Indeed, as he was recounting the events he began to live through them again so that the story became alive and at the end when he’d finished there was silence.

As he sat down again, exhausted with the emotional effort of reliving that night, Brock, Perryfoot and Sam were almost speechless with amazement at the full realization of what had happened and at the part they had each played. When everyone had calmed down, Wythen called on Sam and Brock to relate their sides of the story and finally Warrigal gave an account of Bruin’s brave death. The picture was now complete and the tale would become legend as it was told and re-told in burrows or earths, holes or nests on balmy summer evenings or on wild winter nights. It would lose something in the telling but it would also gain something and the animal who told it would be proud to say, ‘I knew Sam,’ or ’Brock and I used to have long talks together.’

When Warrigal had finished speaking, Wythen, sensing that there was no more to be said, slowly turned away from the meeting and flew up to join his son. All the animals, at this sign that the meeting was over, then began to disperse. They were lost in thought, each with his own private ideas, but when they returned to the privacy of their homes there would be endless discussion and analysis of the story and of the serious consequences to which it might lead. When Nab had first come to the wood many of them had felt that they were on the threshold of history and some of them now believed that this was the beginning.

Warrigal flew down while the rest of the animals were making their way back through the entrance or through the trees and told Nab and Brock that Wythen wanted to speak to them under the silver birch at the edge of the semi-circle and that then they would have to leave. The badger and the boy sadly turned to the others to wish them farewell. Warrigal then said that the whereabouts of Brock and Nab should be kept secret at all costs; it was a matter that must not be disclosed until the time was right. Brock and Tara rubbed noses affectionately; she was very proud of him now as he was about to leave the wood to meet the Elflord, and she was pleased for him that his disappointment with himself in not preventing Nab being captured seemed to have gone. He was back to his old self; confident, a little arrogant, and full of excitement about the future. Nab then came up to her and, putting his hands deep in the fur around her neck, he rubbed his forehead against hers. She was full of apprehensions and fears about the safety of this boy, whom she loved dearly. All the early times in the wood; when he had been little and they had played together and she had told him stories as she held him in her forepaws; they all seemed so long ago now. The prophecies of legend and the paths of destiny had then seemed to belong to another world. Now it seemed that world was coming closer to draw them in and there was nothing she could do about it; the stage was set and the actors already chosen and all she could do was watch and play her part as best she could.

After what seemed a long time but was in fact only a few seconds, Nab let go of her fur and stroked Sam and Perryfoot before turning away and walking off towards the birch with Brock and Warrigal. The dog and the hare also felt an affection for Nab which they found hard to explain; they had already risked their lives once to rescue him and they knew that they would do it again and again if necessary without a thought. They would dearly have liked to go with the others but Warrigal had told them that Wythen had been given precise instructions by the Elflord as to whom he wanted to see and that they were to remain in Silver Wood in case they were needed.