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Authors: Michael Tod

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BOOK: The Second Wave
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Together they scaled the steep side of the great rock, which stood alone like an island in a sea of heather, and found the others settling down in hollows near the top where tiny plants with fleshy leaves grew in the crevices.  The moonlight made the scenery eerie and unreal.

‘I’ll take the First Watch,’ said Juniper the Steadfast, and the others did not demur, even if First Watch was favourite as it meant an uninterrupted sleep thereafter.  Juniper was, after all, the oldest of the party and, with the hardships of the journey, his age was beginning to show, although he did his best to hide it.

Alder always took Last Watch, the one before dawn, as this too meant that his sleep would normally be uninterrupted.  They had all agreed that it was important that the Leader was well rested so that his decisions would not be affected by tiredness.  Other watches were allocated by rota.

Rusty settled down beside Chip.  She had been practising warm actions on their journey, both towards her son and to the other squirrels.  It certainly felt good and made her glow inside.  She was learning new Kernels every day.  Her favourite was –

 

You will be much loved,

No matter what else you lack,

If you are just kind.

 

Rusty savoured the Kernel and tried reversing the lines –

 

If you are just kind,

No matter what else you lack,

You will be much loved.

 

It meant the same thing that way, only somehow stronger, rather like seeing a reflection in still water, where the upside-down image was often brighter than the real one.  How she loved being with her new friends!

 

A tawny owl was hooting to signal a successful night’s hunting as Marguerite shook Alder awake for the Last Watch.

She had watched the stars fading from the sky as dawn neared.  A Man-light far out over the sea to the east glowed steadily then went out twice in quick succession, then glowed again.  It had kept repeating this obscure signal and she had wondered what it was for.  Then she turned her mind to the strange Man-carvings on the rock below.  What did
they
mean?  Why had men spent time cutting them?  What was the significance of the shapes being mostly in twos or threes?  She decided to take another look in daylight before they left the rock in the morning.

She had been away from the Blue Pool for so long, the sense of loss at leaving it was diminishing and she was almost enjoying the challenges of the journey, though a deep-seated fear for her parents on Ourland gnawed at her insides.  She tried to tell herself that she was doing all she could to get there and that Tansy’s illness had unavoidably held them up, but her mind started to go down the ‘what if’ path.  She shook herself.  She had taken the action that she had honestly believed to be the best at the time.  If events subsequently proved it to be wrong, so be it.

 

Looking behind you

There is never any mist,

The view is superb.

 

She smiled as she thought of Tansy, now comfortably asleep between Tamarisk and Chip, who in turn was snugged against his mother, Rusty.  Tansy and Tamarisk were together most of the time, Tamarisk much less tense since his rescue of Rusty.  He would be due for an up-tag soon – she must put her mind to choosing a suitable one.  And Rusty might like her name changed to that of some flower, following the traditions of the Mainlanders.

Chip’s dependence on Tansy had lessened during her fever and he spent most of his time with his mother, who was eager to learn all the customs and traditions of the Mainland squirrel culture.  She knew many of the important Kernels.  Although initially unsure of herself, which Marguerite put down to a lifetime of dominance by the Temple Master, she was learning that females could and should play active roles in all squirrel affairs.  It would soon be time to allocate her a tag as well as a new name.

When Alder had taken over watch, Marguerite snuggled down next to Juniper and closed her eyes, but the strange shapes paraded across her eyelids –
.  She tried counting the corners to see if they were numbers.  F had three but there was already a number for that.  K had three as well and so did W.  S had none, like her figure
0
.  Soon she was dozing, warmed by the body heat of Juniper, her life-mate.

Alder sat on the highest point of the rock, watching the sky lighten in the east.  He had come to enjoy seeing the sun rise on these early watches. First the almost imperceptible fading of the blackness, then a hint of grey light as the birds began their dawn chorus.  Then any eastern clouds would catch a trace of pink on their lower edges and gradually, so gradually, the light would get stronger and the birdsong louder, until the edge of the sun peeped over the horizon and day had really begun.

This was the time when he had to wake the others, and he was about to do so when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement.  He turned but could see nothing out of the ordinary.  There were little grey wisps of vapour rising from the ground – it must have been one of those he had seen.  Then, just as he was about to turn away, he saw another movement in the same place – a
stealthy
movement.  Something was out there, coloured grey, and creeping towards them along the sandy path they had used on the previous evening.  It seemed that the Greys had found their scent-trail and followed it!  Still unsure, and not wanting to cause unnecessary alarm, he went down and quietly woke Juniper and Rowan.

Alder whispered to them, telling of what he thought he had seen, and the three of them went to the highest part of the rock.  No movement could be seen in the heather  and Alder was about to apologise for a false alarm when Rowan saw the heather-tops shaking.  Soon it became apparent that there was movement all around the rock.

Alder decided the others should be woken and Juniper quickly went to do this, whispering their fears to each group of squirrels.  Rusty’s teeth started to chatter and she had to clamp her jaws together.  Chip crouched close beside her.

‘It’s going to be all right, Rusty-Ma,’ he whispered.  ‘These squirrels will protect us if it
is
the Greys.’

The Agglestone would form a good defensive site, Alder was thinking, should it prove necessary.  The rock behind them was steep, overhanging in places, and the Woodstock could be used to cover the sloping front face.  He looked round for it, then, with horror, remembered that it was on the ground, hidden in the holly bush.

‘Dear Sun,’ he said, quietly, ‘
don’t
let it be Greys.’

Then he heard Ivy’s voice.  His prayer had come too late.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

 

Hickory had been bored sitting day after day watching the castle mound for signs of the Reds leaving.  Each day he saw parties going down to the humans’ village and returning later and, although unable to count very well, he knew that it was not all of them, and he never caught a glimpse of Rusty the Squarry.

In idle moments he thought of just moving on westwards and leaving that crazy Ivy behind.  He regularly sent his fellow watchers back to report to her, and from them he knew that Crag was dead or, as the more simple of them believed, had been changed into a giant metal squirrel.  Ivy was behind all that, he was sure.  But if he did go westwards, he would be on his own and might never meet other squirrels for the rest of his life.  Then there was the business of the Sunless Pit… No, he would stay for a time and see what happened.

Jackdaws were carrying nest-building sticks into the cave.  He looked again.  It was true.  They would not be doing that if the Reds were still there.  He felt sick.  They must all have slipped away in the night.

Hickory shook his fellow watchers and cursed them for not being alert and the three set off down the hillside, crossed the stream by a fallen tree and went cautiously up to the foot of the wall below the cave.  Had the jackdaws not been flying in and out, he would have suspected a trap and feared the whisker-curling power that the Reds had.  But, convinced that they had gone, he climbed up to find the cave empty of squirrels.

He sent one of the watchers to tell Ivy that the Reds had at last moved on, and with the other Grey close behind him, followed a fading scent-trail southwards.

 

Ivy, at the head of a posse of Greys, had caught up with him four days later, following the marks, symbols and scents he had left to guide her.  Now they were looking across the heath at a huge stone outlined against the dawn sky.

Earlier, Hickory had seen the Reds dragging the twisted stick along and had guessed that it was the source of the whisker-curling power they commanded.  He had suggested that they stop at a distance from the rock and find where this stick was.

‘Go down and challenge them, sinful one,’ Ivy had instructed him.  ‘Then we can tell if the power workss outsside a cave.’

This is a different Ivy, Hickory thought.  She’s got much more confident of herself while I’ve been watching the cave.  Now she’s expecting me to sacrifice my whiskers for her!

‘It is obvious that the power works only on sinful squirrels,’ he replied.  ‘As you are free of sin, you can go safely and see if they have the power stick with them.’

Ivy looked disconcerted for a moment, then, realising that the whole basis of her authority had been openly challenged, replied, ‘Cowardly one, if you are afraid to show yoursself, then I musst do thiss tassk mysself.’

She gave him a scornful look, signalled to the other Greys to hold their positions and hopped down the path, her heart beating fast, knowing that she had gambled everything on this one act.  She stopped and studied the sloping stone face in the growing light.  She could see many red squirrels, but could not see the twisted stick that Hickory had described to her.  Neither could she see any place on the rock where it might be hidden.

Risking all, Ivy stood to her full height and called up.

‘Send down Russty, the Squarry, and we will leave you in peasse, Blassphemerss though you be.’ 

Alder said nothing, but signalled to the senior squirrels to take up defensive positions, the males at the lower edge of the sloping face of the rock and the females where they could repel any Greys who might try to clamber up the rock to their rear.  The yearlings, toughened now by the hazards of the journey, were to form a reserve in the middle and be ready to fill any gaps in the defence.

‘Send down Russty, the Squarry,’ Ivy commanded again.

‘She stays with us,’ Alder replied.

 

‘Squirrels in trouble,

Always stand by each other

None suffers alone.’

 

‘Then you will all die together,’ Ivy replied.  ‘The Temple Masster hass taught uss hat nothing musst stop uss fulfilling the Squarry Edict.’

‘The Temple Master is dead,’ Alder called down.

‘That may be so,’ Ivy replied, ‘but hiss Edict standss.  Now, send down the Squarry!’

Alder felt a body press against his as he stood, looking over the edge of the rock, wondering what to do next.  It was Rusty.

‘I’ll go down,’ she told him.  ‘My life is not worth all of yours,’

Rusty felt a paw on her shoulder and looked around.  Marguerite had anticipated her intentions and had joined her where she crouched next to Alder.  She told Rusty,

 

‘Evil will triumph

If good squirrels don’t resist –

Even do nothing.’

 

‘That’s true,’ said Alder.  ‘We stand or fall together.  Now, both of you, back to your positions.’

Marguerite went up to the highest point.  From here she could see all around.  By leaning out over the edge she could see Greys on the ground, studying the rock for ways to climb.

She counted them, then turned to look in the other direction and tried to count the squirrels there.  These had now come out of the heather and were milling around on the bare sand where the vegetation had been worn away by the hard feet of human Visitors, as though they knew the Woodstock could not be used on them.  Some more Greys could be hidden from her sight beneath the overhang of the stone’s lower edge.  The Reds were well outnumbered and they had left the Woodstock down in the holly-bush.  She blamed herself for not insisting that they had carried it up the night before – she had been too interested in those shapes cut in the rock.  Those would not save them, but the Woodstock might have.

 

Looking behind you

There is…

 

Too late for that now! They
did
have the advantage of height, though.  If it came to a fight, it could go either way.  Trust in the Sun!

‘Death to the Squarry.  Death and the Sunless Pit for all thosse who protect her,’ called Ivy.

‘Death and the Sunless Pit,’ chanted the other Greys, and the attack commenced.

The Reds held strong positions at the edges of the rock and were able to bite and scratch at grey paws and faces as the attackers tried to come over the rock-edge. But with their extra numbers and greater size and strength, the Greys were soon driving the Reds back up the slope.  Juniper, at the lowest point, though slashing and biting in all directions, was unable to hold back the pressure from below.

BOOK: The Second Wave
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