The Second Wave (23 page)

On the upper edge the females were having more success.  Every time a grey climber reached the top of the rock, two red females would bite its paws and the Grey would drop backwards, yowling with pain and twisting in the air so as to land upright. It would then have to retire and lick the wounds on its crippled forepaws, unable to take any further active part in the fight.  Another would take its place, however, and there was never a moment’s respite for the defenders.

Marguerite was praying as she fought, facing the Sun.

‘Please help us, great Sun

To defend our beliefs – so

Evil may not win.’

Across the heath near Wych Farm, a geologist pressed the button that exploded one of his test-charges buried in the ground, the echoes from the rock formation far below confirming the existence, and indicating the extent, of a vast reservoir of oil.  Oil formed by vegetation which has grown in the Sunshine of a primitive earth, long before squirrels or indeed any other mammal had evolved.

He checked his instruments and moved across to connect the batteries to the second charge.

As Marguerite said the last line of the Kernel, the great ironstone rock, glowing red in the light of the early sunshine, trembled under their feet, and the squirrels, red and grey, clung on apprehensively.

‘The Sun is with us,’ called Marguerite and the Greys retreated down the rock, dropped to the ground and clustered together round the base.

‘The Sun is with
uss
,’ Ivy shouted, the words hissing past her broken tooth.  ‘It iss shaking the rock to disslodge the Blassphemerss.  Follow me, the Sun iss with USS!’

The Greys rallied and their attack recommenced.

The Reds were now hesitant in defence, but Marguerite called loudly from the top of the rock, ‘The Sun is with US.  It shook the rock to discourage the attackers!’

Beneath their feet the great slab of stone trembled again, and each side, believing that the sign was favourable to them, fought more resolutely.

As the sun rose higher, the greater numbers and strength of the Greys were telling and they were pressing the Reds back towards the top of the rock.  Juniper disappeared under a ball of grey bodies which rolled backwards and fell to the ground, limbs flailing in all directions.

The red defence faltered, and the Greys pressed home their advantage.  The whole of the lower half of the sloping rock was a seething mass of grey pressing upwards against a thin line of Reds.  Alder turned to signal for the reserve of yearlings to engage the enemy, only to find that they were already in action, fighting in pairs.  Somehow they had broken off flakes of rock and one of each pair was leaning over the edge hammering at the Greys whilst the other held on to its back feet.

In the thickest part of the action Tamarisk was fighting side by side with Rowan.

‘I wish we had the Woodstock up here,’ he said, between slashes at a grey male who was trying to outflank him.  ‘That’d knock a few off the rock!’

Rowan leapt back to avoid a savage bite from another Grey, and replied, ‘Could we get it?  It’s worth a try, we’re losing here.  Nothing ventured…’

‘Follow me,’ called Tamarisk, and, with Rowan at his side, ran between the startled females, judged the distance, realising as he did so that he had never made such a jump before, and leapt from the rock to land in the holly bush.

As Rowan jumped a grey head appeared over the edge of the rock in front of him and a grey paw reached up and caught his leg as he flew over.  The Red and the Grey fell, fighting, to the ground below.

Tamarisk, in the holly, wriggled his way down through the spiky leaves which pricked his skin painfully.  A needle-sharp spine pierced his left eye and, though he felt the stab of pain, he fumbled around amongst the stems in the shadow of the dark green leaves until he felt the smooth twisted shape of the Woodstock.

The Greys on that side of the rock, intent on trying to avoid the teeth and claws of the defending females, ignored the ‘deserter’ who had appeared to abandon his companions and was probably fleeing for his life somewhere behind them.  They could hunt him down later.

Tamarisk, half blinded by the blood pouring from his left eye, pushed the Woodstock some way out of the bush and directed it at the Greys at the back of the rock.  He was about to scratch a
 when he saw a flash of red fur amongst the mass of grey.  He held back, wondering what to do.

Rowan’s head came up from out of the melee.  He called to Tamarisk, ‘Use the Woodstock –+-now!’ and the head went down again.

Tamarisk brushed away the blood from his face, aimed it at the writhing mass and scratched a
 just as the great rock shook for the third time.  Then he directed the power of the Woodstock onto those Greys clinging to the sunlit side.  They felt agonising pains around their mouths and nostrils and, with their heads spinning and their claws no longer able to hold on to the crevices, they fell backwards, to land in moaning heaps on the ground.  Here they lay, pawing at their faces and trying to straighten the tight curls now seemingly burned into their previously straight whiskers.

Engrossed in their own distress, the Greys ignored Tamarisk as he attempted to drag the Woodstock round to the other side of the great stone.

A grinning Rowan was suddenly beside him, helping.  ‘I turned my back, got my head down and hid my whiskers,’ he said breathlessly, in answer to Tamarisk’s unspoken query.

‘I’m glad you’re here.  My eyesight’s funny – I can’t judge distance.’

Rowan sighted the Woodstock and scratched a bold
.  The Grey reserve on the ground, watching the fight above and ready to clamber up to join in if called on, didn’t notice the two Reds with the peculiar stick until too late.  The spiralling force struck them and they fell back, pawing at their faces.  The Reds above, now assisted by the females, who no longer had to defend the rear, pushed down the rock, driving more Greys into the range of the Woodstock.

Soon only a few, including Hickory, were still able to fight.  There was no sign of Ivy.  Alder called a halt and the two sides each withdrew a squirrel length and paused, facing each other, panting for breath, but with the Reds’ tails conspicuously high.

Marguerite came forward and, having got a nod of assent from Alder and unable to see Ivy, addressed Hickory.

‘The Temple Master is dead.  The Temple itself has been destroyed by the Lightning Force and now, with the help of the Sun, your party is defeated and your compatriots will have to suffer a whisker-less life for at least a moon.  Will you accept that this squirrel, Rusty, is no longer to be what the Temple Master called a Squarry?’

Hickory lowered his tail as a sign of submission, but said nothing.

‘Where is the female you call Ivy?’ Marguerite asked.

Hickory shrugged his shoulders, but another Grey called up, ‘She is here, Red One.’

Ivy’s body was dragged out from under the rock, Juniper’s teeth through her throat.

Rowan went across to Juniper and put his paw on the bloodstained chest of the old squirrel, then did the same to Ivy.

‘They are both Sun-gone,’ he announced.

‘Deal with your injured,’ Marguerite said to Hickory. ‘We will talk more later.’

She climbed to the top of the rock to be alone.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Marguerite looked down on the Greys at the base of the rock.  The few without injuries or curled whiskers were helping the others.  She felt sorry for them and in a way responsible.  They had come to her asking to be taught native ways and because she had sent them away, they had fallen under the influence of the fanatical Temple Master.  Because of this, her life-mate, Juniper the Steadfast, was Sun-gone along with several Greys, and many more squirrels were hurt.  The Reds had been forced to leave the Blue Pool and were now in the middle of a heath with no trees near to give Juniper a proper burial and they still had to get to Ourland and tackle the pine marten.

Turning her head, she could see Ourland over the water beyond the heath.  If only she could see if the pine marten was still there, but it was much too far away.

To her right was the sweep of a sandy beach and over the sea beyond that she could just see white cliffs.  Further to her right were the rock columns where the dolphins had come to her rescue the year before.  She thought of them, Malin and Lundy, and wondered if they were, even now, out in that vast expanse of sea.

She looked down at the Greys again.  They had come to the Blue Pool to learn native customs.  She knew from the intensity of her Sun-scene that her destiny had to be on Ourland, but she asked herself briefly if she should not go back with the Greys and teach them the Kernels of Truth and how to live at peace with nature and one’s surroundings.  It also seemed important that the cold creed taught them by the Portlanders should be permanently replaced with one of Love under a friendly Sun.

She felt drawn to the idea of staying.  She wanted time to work out the meanings of the humans’ carvings on the rock.  Her life-mate was Sun-gone, her youngsters were strong and healthy and could get along without her.  But…a Tagger’s first duty was to her community… and she did so want to know what had happened on Ourland since she had left.  She sensed that Old Burdock had gone to a worthy rest, but hoped that Oak and Fern, her parents, had not been taken by the pine marten.

She couldn’t stay – she was the only one who really understood the power of the Woodstock, and that would be needed there to destroy the marten.  No –
she
couldn’t stay!

Rowan, whose injuries from the fight were relatively slight, was having similar thoughts about the Greys.  He was discussing them with Meadowsweet, his beloved life-mate.

‘Some squirrels ought to stay and teach these Greys all the Kernels,’ he was saying.  ‘If they are going to be the new Guardians, some of us must teach them the proper way to do it.  Would you stay with me if I offer?’

‘Rowan, my love, where you go, I go.  Where you stay, I stay.  Young Bluebell too.’

‘If we are going to keep our kind alive on the Mainland, we will need more than one family to stay.  Should I ask the ex-zervantz?’

Spindle and Wood Anemone, although realising that they might never see Ourland again, readily agreed to stay on with their two youngsters, if the Council approved.  Wood Anemone especially was glad that she would not have to make a sea journey again.

The matter was discussed and settled at a Council Meeting held on the rock after High Sun.  Hickory and two others of the ‘whiskered’ Greys had been invited to attend as part of their re-training.  They appeared to welcome the offer of help from Rowan.

The body of Juniper was buried near the holly bush, as the next best thing to a tree.  The Reds, with the Greys behind them, gathered round to say the Farewell Kernel to a valiant fighter and a squirrel who had learned his wisdom through severe hardship.

‘Sun, take this squirrel

Into the peace if your earth

To nourish a tree’.

The bodies of the dead Greys were buried at the side of the holly bush and, with Hickory’s permission, the Farewell Kernel was said for them as well.