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Authors: Michael Tod

The Second Wave (18 page)

BOOK: The Second Wave
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Tamarisk crawled up the tunnel and out into the cold whiteness.  So that was what she thought of him, was it?  He’d show her.

Several times the squirrels in the snow-cave heard the lines whine and groan as the ‘monster’ passed, but as before, it did not attempt to leave its track and seek them out.

 

On the third morning a westerly wind blew in from the Atlantic, warm from the distant Gulf Stream, and the chamber in which the hungry squirrels huddled started to drip and collapse.  Alder led them out into the open and after a little stretching and stamping around they set off again along the lines, the youngsters whimpering for food and being comforted by the older squirrels.  Chip was constantly looking over his shoulder as though expecting to see his mother, but the others were more concerned with ensuring that there was not a posse of Greys on their tails.  It was comforting to know that their scent would have dissipated into the snow and neither Crag nor the Greys would know in which direction they had gone.

The metal lines were clear of snow and the ‘monster’ had pushed aside any drifts on to the side of the track, so the squirrels easily followed the rails as they curved round towards the ruined Man-drey they could see on the great mound ahead of them.  Twice the party left the track and hid when they heard and felt the lines whining and vibrating, but on both occasions the ‘monster’ passed without concerning itself with them

The second time Rowan sat up and watched it.  ‘It’s not a ‘monster,’ he told the others.  ‘It’s just a lot of the box-things that humans travel about in, all joined together.  I could see humans inside it.’

After High-Sun they left the lines, went down an embankment, crossed a roadway and stared up at the piles of rocks, towering against the sky above them.

‘This is the castle,’ said Dandelion.  ‘I didn’t realise it was as big as this.’

‘Humans must have put all these stones on top of one another,’ Marguerite said, ‘though Sun knows why!’

Her youngsters were close to her side.  ‘I’m so hungry,’ Young Oak told her.

‘So am I,’ whimpered little Burdock.  ‘We haven’t eaten for days.’

‘We must find shelter first, then we will look for food,’ she told them.

Juniper said, ‘Where there are humans, I can find food.  I used to be tagged the Scavenger once.  Did you know that?  If anyone can find food, I can.’  He was almost proud, then realised that the Scavenger was a lowly tag, one to be ashamed of.  How life changed one’s standards when the cones were down!

They all climbed the steep grass-covered mound to the ancient castle walls, dragging the Woodstock up with them, and then explored the rock faces, searching in every nook and cranny, looking for a safe and sheltered hiding place.  It was Chip, more at home on the rock than the other squirrels, who found the cave, high up on an outer wall, half hidden by a mass of ivy stems and leaves.  It was on the south side, so was protected from cold winds and not too distant from the humans’ village, where they hoped to find food in the morning.

For many years jackdaws had used this cave as a nest site, so inside there was a mass of old sticks and sheep’s wool that they could use for bedding, even if it did smell musty and unpleasant.  It was dark by the time the Woodstock had been carried up the tangled stems to safety in the cave.  Twice it had fallen and they had had to climb down to recover it, using the joint efforts of all the mature squirrels.  Even so, none of them had noticed that Tamarisk the Forthright had not been with them all day.

 

Crag’s temper had not improved as he led the horde of Greys back to the Temple Tree through the falling snow, and his black mood deepened when he found that Rusty had evidently taken the opportunity to desert him.  She had always been unreliable, he thought savagely, much too prone to sentimentality and far too soft towards that youngster.  Both of them were unworthy squirrels – he was better off without them!  The Greys were harder workers and now he had Ivy on his side, the metal collection was growing steadily.  The Sun had evidently sent her to help him get the Greys to stock the Temple.

He crouched, shivering, in the cold chamber that was his lonely sleeping place, thoughts tumbling through his brain.  If the Sun had sent the Greys to help him, it had probably also arranged for those two unworthy squirrels to be removed.  He called down for Ivy.

‘When did Rusty last collect metal?’ he asked.

‘Moons ago,’ she replied.

Crag cursed.  All that time she had lived with him in the sacred place, eating the bounty that the Sun had provided – and contributing nothing.  Nothing!  His teeth chattered with anger and cold.  She didn’t deserve to live.

Throughout the two days when the snow prevented any Sun-worthy work being done, Crag crouched in his chamber, listening to the movements of the Greys in the hollows below him, but taking no food, even when Ivy offered some.

 

After the warm wind caused the drifts around the Temple Tree to melt away, Crag came out on to an upper branch and called to the Greys to assemble on the ground below him.  As those in the tree poured from every hole to join those already on the ground, he looked down, exulting in the sense of power.  The clearing seemed to be alive with squirrels, all waiting on his word.  He signalled to Ivy and she called for silence.  The chattering stopped abruptly.

There was a small cloud between him and the sun, casting a shadow on the wood, though it was bright enough on the distant hills, and on the trees not too far away.  Crag waited for it to pass – he wanted to be seen clearly by all below him – but the cloud seemed in no hurry and the Greys below started to get restless and whisper amongst themselves.

Seeing this, Crag spoke, his voice higher pitched than usual.  He coughed and started again. ‘Fellow squirrels, although we are of different colours, we have worked together to the glory of the Sun by collecting sacred metal and filling this wonderful Temple Tree to prove that I – We – are truly worthy squirrels and will therefore avoid the terrors of the Sunless Pit.  This Temple Tree is now almost complete, but’ – he paused – ‘we have been hampered in our efforts by an unworthy female whose name I cannot even bring myself to say.  One who has lived off the Sun’s bounty, yet hardly ever carried even the smallest offering to this glorious Temple.

‘In the name of the Sun and the power I have earned as Temple Master, I declare this female to be a Squarry!’

Crag waited for some strong reaction, but the Greys looked at one another in puzzlement and then up at him, as though waiting for an explanation.

Sitka called up, ‘Temple Master, this word is strange to us.  As you know, our instructions from the Oval Drey are to adapt to, and adopt, your local customs, but we don’t know the meaning of ‘Squarry.’

‘Ignorant fools,’ Crag said under his breath, then called own, ‘A Squarry is one who has sinned so dreadfully that it is our right – no, our
duty
– to see that they go to the Sunless Pit at the earliest chance.  A Squarry must be hunted down and killed.  This duty takes precedence over all others.  Find the Squarry and kill her!  No squirrel is to return until they can report her death.’

His high-pitched voice reached all the Greys below and was also heard by Tamarisk the Forthright, hiding in the branches of the pine tree across the clearing.  He crouched there wondering what to do next.  Evidently Rusty was not at the Temple Tree and now the hordes of Greys were going to seek her as a ‘Squarry.’

The word was unknown to him too – it must be a part of the cult these Portland squirrels had brought with them.  It was certainly alien to his teachings.  One of the Kernels of Truth said –

 

Squirrels have the right

To explain their own actions,

Fully – in silence.

 

There was no evidence, from what he had overheard, that Rusty would be given this right of explanation, in silence or otherwise.  It seemed that she was to be hunted down and killed without a chance to explain her reasons.  Suddenly his mission had taken on a new dimension – not only did he have to rescue Chip’s mother to prove himself to Tansy, but he was now the defender of the ancient culture of the Reds.

Ivy was issuing orders as the Greys spread out in all directions to search for the Squarry.  Tamarisk stayed put.  They were unlikely to look in the tree nearest to the Temple, for they would expect Rusty to be some distance away by now.

The hubbub died down as the last of the Greys left the clearing, and Crag went back into the Temple Tree.  Tamarisk contemplated crossing the clearing and tackling the Temple Master.  He was younger and could probably win a fight, but this would be contrary to the very Kernel he was acting to defend.  He would leave Crag to the Sun.  In the meantime he had to find Rusty before the Greys did.  Remembering Marguerite’s absolute confidence that help would come when most needed, he recited the Kernel,

 

‘Have faith in the Sun

His ways are mysterious.

Faith can fell fir trees’

 

He then looked around for some sign that might indicate the way to go.  The little cloud that had hidden the sun from Crag had now expanded to fill the sky from horizon to horizon, though a small patch of Sunlight glowed on the side of Screech Hill away across the Great Heath.

Tamarisk felt drawn to the distant brightness, and set off through the treetops in that direction, pausing only long enough to eat some pine seeds, holding the cone in his paws and tearing away the resinous flakes protecting them.  He would travel faster if he was not hungry.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

 

It was Chip who first noticed that Tamarisk was not with them in the cave behind the ivy on the castle wall.  The squirrels were preparing to send a foraging party to the human village and Chip was steeling himself for the usual deprecating comments and unkind remarks that Tamarisk whispered to him whenever Tansywistful was not at his side.  He looked around the cave in the faint light that filtered in through the leaves and the stems that partly covered the entrance.  His antagonist was certainly not there.  Perhaps he had gone out before the others?  But then, as Chip thought back to when he had last been subjected to Tamarisk’s taunts, he realised that he had not seen him since the last night in the snow-cavern.  He spoke to Tansy, trying to sound casual.  ‘Have you seen Tamarisk?’

Tansy looked about, then called loudly, ‘Has anyone seen Tamarisk the Forthright?’

No squirrel could recall seeing him since the night in the snow, but there were pressing things to be done.  The youngsters were whimpering with hunger, and food of some kind must be found.  Tamarisk was a grown squirrel, with no family responsibilities – he must be left to his own devices, though some of them felt disappointed that he should have deserted them.  However, as the Kernel taught them –

 

Each squirrel is Free

To choose its own route through Life –

Guided by Kernels.

 

Tamarisk had evidently chosen his own route, away from Tansy, who must seem unobtainable to him.

Rowan was once more left in charge of the youngsters, the Woodstock at his paw in case of any kind of attack, whilst all the other grown squirrels went to scavenge in the village.

 

Tamarisk was heading for Screech Hill, where the barn owls hunted, staying behind the searching Greys, whose coverage of the ground grew ever more sparse as the ring of squirrels spreading out from the Temple Tree got larger and larger.  Eventually he was able to slip between the searchers unnoticed and, once ahead of them, hurried in the direction of the hill which rose to dominate the countryside, acting as a beacon for him.

Alone, he could travel fast.  He was near the base of the hill before the winter dusk drove him to find shelter in a rotten tree, using the abandoned nest-hole of a woodpecker for shelter.

In the morning, encouraged by the dawn Sunshine lighting up the summit, he set off in that direction, strangely confident of finding Rusty somewhere near there.

And so it was.  In the highest tree near the hill-top he found her, trying to get warm in the weak rays of the sun.

He went up to her and cuddled her chill form, warming her with his own body, which was glowing from the exertion of his climbing and running through the treetops.  When she had thawed a little and her shivering had stopped, Tamarisk said, ‘I’ve come to take you to Chip,’ and was surprised when she said, ‘I shouldn’t have run away.  I think it’s my duty to go back to Crag.  I fear the Sunless Pit.  Chip will be safe with your friends.’  The last word sounded awkward, as though she had never spoken it before.

‘Crag has declared you to be something he calls a Squarry,’ he told her.  ‘All the Greys are out to kill you.’

Rusty shrank back in horror.  ‘Me a Squarry? He wouldn’t do that to me!’

‘He has,’ said Tamarisk.  ‘You can’t go back.’

‘I must.  Perhaps if I go back, Crag will forgive me and cancel the Edict.  Oh dear Sun, me a Squarry.  I must go back, it’s my only chance.’

Tamarisk considered his options.  He could abandon Rusty and find the others at the castle.  She would then either live or die alone, or be killed by the searching Greys.  Or he could try to escort her back through the ring of searchers in the hope that Crag would forgive her, or he could try again to persuade her to come with him to join the exiles and be reunited with her son.

All his efforts were in vain.  He explained that the Sunless Pit was only an expression of somewhere awful and did not really exist, but soon he realised that her fear was deep seated and terrible.

Rusty told him about the Sin-day and the awful night and day that had followed it.  She insisted on returning to Crag.

Tamarisk accompanied her, unable to face Tansy’s scorn if she learned that he was too much of a squaker to see Chip’s mother safely back to the Temple Tree, if that was her wish.

Together they passed unnoticed through a gap in the ring of Greys, now in groups, searching every patch of woodland and scrub, and through the deserted Demesne of the Blue Pool towards the Temple Tree.  A storm was brewing and the silence was oppressive and unearthly.  Thunder rumbled in the distance and Rusty looked around apprehensively.

BOOK: The Second Wave
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