The Progeny of Able (The Burrow of London Series Book 1) Read online

  Roe trotted after her without registering the fact that she knew his real name and that it was the first time his two closest friends had heard it. Mercia and Daegal looked briefly at each other, then trotted quickly after them.

  *

  Samson escaped his delirium in a series of dreams. He had returned to his wife, who sat aged by his side, soothing his brow, and tipping his head forward to sip a sun brewed ice tea. The vision would sustain itself for a few minutes before blackness would over take him again and he would slip back into oblivion. Roe was there as well and he could see him through a haze drinking the same tea and panting on his side with a pile of feathers protecting him from the damp earth.

  It took four days, tucked deep within the island, never leaving the burrow, before Samson finally woke to the world as himself. It was Ursula's soft face and caring eyes and, most of all, her steady paw that made him realize he was in the real world and that he was home.

  “I thought you were dead. Both of you. We all thought you were dead. Twenty years, Samson. Twenty years and not a word,” she said, letting the business of healing keep her from crying. She rubbed a salve onto a soft leather patch and gently placed it over Samson's dead eye waiting for his response.

  “Ursula, it had to be,” Samson whispered.

  She looked over to Roe whose side heaved regularly with the gentle breath of sleep.

  “Yes,” she said. “I know it did. I do not ask you to apologize but I fear Scarlett will not be as understanding.”

  He lifted his head with an effort, and gave her paw a soft and gentle lick and nuzzled it with his nose.

  “You were a mother to Scarlett and I was a father to Roe. It was not meant to be, but it was nonetheless. We were wedded together, but parents apart.”

  “Hailey, however, was not so lucky?” she asked.

  “No. Had she lived, you and I would have been on the run but it would have been together.”

  “Yes,” Ursula said with a sad smile before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I was forced to remarry of course, to a member of the council, as a means to keep a drop of what they viewed was aristocratic blood within the regime. He was not a cruel fox, but kind in his way. At first I was cold to him, but as time dragged you further and further from me, I did begin to feel an affection. As it turned out he was not hard enough for the council, and disagreed with their policies concerning the Shadow Foxes. He was found floating in the Tate Spring shortly after I found out I was pregnant. I would have never left the Burrow with your pups inside me, Samson. What happened afterwards, I'm sure you have heard.”

  “Yes, Ursula, I have.”

  Roe began to stir at the voices, then shot up suddenly to all fours looking around him urgently before settling back on his haunches. The room was cut from the dry earth, the dome above uncovered as were the walls. It looked like the burrow of a wild fox with one exception; roots dangled from the ceiling purposefully uncut so that a variety of herb pouches and cups could be attached for easy access.

  He leaned over and sniffed the pot of tea near his bedside. Next to it sat a bowl full of dried and flaking petals.

  “The Cry Violet,” Ursula said, in answer to his unspoken question. “The Hantsa believe it went extinct in France many years ago but we have always cultivated it as it is the only real remedy for the frothing sickness, although I am probably the only remaining fox who does. My small cluster is probably the last left on this earth. I never believed I would get to use it but I couldn't imagine letting the flowers die. Drink more. You are due a dose. So, is your canine now that I think of it.”

  Roe looked to the sleeping orange form close to his mattress and was thankful that the little animal was receiving treatment as well.

  She left Samson and helped Roe bring the cup to his lips to drink.

  “Of course Cry Violet is the important ingredient but there are other more common herbs that must be mixed in a rather laborious process in order to make an effective brew. So you should be thankful young Roe that you found the only one who knows the recipe.”

  “Oh, I am,” he replied. “Have you tried it yourself?”

  “No, I've never had the need.”

  “Well then you should know the stuff is absolutely vile.”

  *

  Roe and Samson remained underground for a further twenty-four hours before their healer said they were in the clear and no longer infectious. Roe in particular felt better fed and better rested than he had in the past five years of living with the Inari.

  They emerged from the burrow as a pair of newborns, squinting from the noonday sun which bathed the grove in a warm light.

  Mercia, who had been playing lazily with a few feral pups, ran over as soon as she saw them.

  “Sky! I mean Roe. Are you all right? I've been worried about you since you went under. Its been five days. They wouldn't let me in. Even when I told them I had treated you many times in the past. That I was your regular doctor.”

  “I'm fine, Mercia, and glad to be out in the open air,” he said, breathing in deeply.

  “Good,” she responded, nodding her head and stamping her paws. “Well who the hell are you then? Roe? Sky? I mean who have I been...with...the past five years?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. The name is Roe. Very good to meet you,” he said, smiling to her and offering the top of his head which she promptly struck hard with the back of her paw.

  “Oh, I already know who you are no matter what your name is!” she yelled, and turned away towards Daegal who was running across the field towards them.

  “Roe, is it?” he joked, bumping the the top of his head against the one Mercia had just slighted. “Very pleased to meet you, too. And Samson as well. It is an honour.”

  “Indeed,” Samson grumbled. “I never would have imagined thanking the head of the Inari gang but, there it is, you have my thanks. Clearly the gang has changed since I was last in London.”

  “Yes, I've made some refurbishments, as it were, since taking charge, but we still operate under the same old vile premise of reputable and reliable thieves.

  An uncomfortable silence followed until Samson lowered his head slightly and both Mercia and Daegal gave it a quick touch with the top's of theirs.

  Scarlett had been watching the four of them from the top of the mound, saddle bags on her sides loaded with herbs for tea and a few rodents whose tails poked out from the top. Her aged sister stood by her side and, cocking her head at the group below with a feral fox's curiosity, hobbled off slowly towards the woodland ringing their encampment. The group noticed Scarlett and she quickly descended, planting herself in front of Roe and Samson.

  “These are for breakfast,” she said severely. “We tend to live in the day light here which keeps us out of rhythm with other foxes but the pups like to play in the sun. While you are here you will have to get used to it.”

  “Of course,” Samson answered.

  “Good,” she said looking at him. “My mother wants everyone in the burrow for breakfast. Then we will discuss what is to become of you.”

  Daegal laughed and said, “Become of us? Well I don't know about the others, but I intend to get back to London to my feather bed and the large powerful gang I lead.”

  She turned away from his joke, taking her rodents and herbs with her back inside the burrow.

  *

  Breakfast was meagre but hearty and the spiced tea put everyone but Scarlett at ease. The room was lined with countless books and lit by oil lamps and a flickering fire that was burning from a stone-lined groove carved into the wall. A single window allowed a small amount of sunlight to spill into the room.

  Daegal was relaxing on his back, cushioned by a fur rug near the hearth.

  “Books, books, books. You were always one for reading, Ursula.”

  “As were you once, Daegal,” she said. “None of you may realize this, but Daegal was once my star pupil. He loved the great stories of old.”

  “Yes, well, he seems more interested in pie
these days than anything else,” Mercia responded, prodding his large belly with a lazy paw.

  Samson stood and looked at the books and then to Ursula just as Spencer, the Shadow Fox, trotted in and settled close to the fire watching the group. The Beast had been playing with him outside and stretched out on the hearthstone next to Daegal, falling asleep as soon as his head came to rest.

  “Yes, books. It is because of books that I returned to London. Or rather a single page of a book,” Samson began.

  He walked over to a shelf, picked up a small glass phial and broke it between his teeth before setting the sharp pieces of glass, along with a rolled piece of paper, on the table in the centre of the room. Blood began to trickle in a small drip from between his jaws onto his chin.

  “While I was recovering from my sickness. Ursula managed to retrieve the phial which I had swallowed days before.”

  The others leaned over as he carefully unrolled the parchment and placed weights on the four corners to keep the paper from curling back up.

  “I was in France following a rumour I had heard about a leaf from an ancient book. The page had become famous in the world of the Hantsa for it was written in one of their ancient languages but seemed to describe a strange religion based solely on the fox. I found the page displayed within the library of a wealthy French Hantsa and had only just managed to tear it free from its frame before being chased out of the house. During my voyage back to Anglia I was bitten by a canine infected with the frothing sickness. I made it back to London just as the disease took hold of my mind. I cannot read the bulk of it but this passage had been translated into Anglish by a different hand from the rest in the margin.”

  They all gazed at the portion of the manuscript he had indicated. 'Possunt vivemus in conspectu eius in progenies et erunt caeruleo colore caeli' was written in a squarish hand and below it scribbled quickly was the translation 'The eyes of Able shall live within his progeny and they will be blue as the colour of the sky.'”

  They all looked to Roe who wore a confused expression.

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “Ursula, it is time you told Roe the circumstances of his birth,” Samson said, turning away from the group and sitting by the fire.

  She took a sip of her tea and sat comfortably, never taking her eye from Roe as she spoke.

  “Your mother and your father were great friends to me, you know. They had been born in a lowly burrow but had come to work at my school as servants many years earlier. They were poor, and happy to be given the opportunity to live outside the strict rule of the council. I had a certain autonomy, you see. There was nothing unusual about them except for your mother's blue eyes. I thought it was a genetic anomaly. Foxes frequently have varied coloured coats. Some are even completely white with red eyes. I didn't think anything of it. Your mother became pregnant for the first time and I was overjoyed for them. I offered to help them in any way I could. Mainly to get them the proper permits in order to have their pup born within a burrow still strong in the Light. The ancient Chairman of the Council got word of this, however, and as he had always sought my affections to no avail, he turned his jealousy against my servants. He couldn't turn it on me as I was married to the head of the palace guard and the most formidable fox who many said had ever lived.” She smiled towards Samson who gave a slight smirk in return. “So they were denied a place.”

  “We attempted to sneak them in to my class within Sunniva's Womb when her time was coming close but we were caught. Samson had been called away to the north at the time and could not protect us.”

  Samson shifted uncomfortably as he remembered.

  “I was not punished but my two servants were torn from me, bound, and taken to the surface where they were placed on a craft and drifted well beyond the boundaries of London. Your mother, Hailey, must have been overcome with grief. She was faced with the prospect of not giving birth to a fox of the Light or even a Shadow Fox but to a short lived feral. She was doomed to outlive her first child by many feral lifetimes. They were abandoned by the guards accompanying them where the Thames gives over to the shores of the sea. It was on this sandy beach under the stars that she gave birth to you Roe. And when you came into this world you had the eyes of your mother and you were not feral born, you were not Shadow Born, you were born as if you had awoken in the strongest possible Light. You were aglow with the intensity of it. A Fox born of the Light but not in it.”

  She coughed as the others took in all that she had said before continuing.

  “Eventually they made their way back to London and to my class with you wrapped tightly and hidden. They had not been banished, you see. They thought you were a blessing, a miracle, as did we all and word of your birth began to spread. It was dangerous for the council. We didn't know how dangerous until your battle with Gremian last week in fact, but knew you weren't safe and when your father was captured and killed...,” she said, looking carefully at Roe who stood listening with a frown.

  “...we rushed to find a way to sneak you and your mother out. We thought we could trust him. We had known him for many years and Samson had trained him but Gremian betrayed us and your mother died as a result. Samson faked your death and took you away. He accepted the responsibility of raising you himself at the expense of his own family.”

  She stopped and placed a paw on Roe, who stood shaking beside her.

  “I should have let you kill him, Samson. I should have helped you kill him.”

  The others were silent, breathing quietly, not sure what to do.

  “You did the right thing, my pup,” Samson said, rubbing the patch that now covered his eye.

  “We would have both been killed and you above all must survive. You are the single most dangerous fox that has ever confronted the council.

  Roe responded with a frustrated laugh, “You must still be under the bite of the frothing sickness. I've never known you to exaggerate so much. I think the council has little fear of me or anyone else.”

  “There is more, Roe,” Samson said. “Returning to the burrow, confronting Gremian, even losing this eye was all worth it. Even if it was awash in a delirium, I will never forget the Supreme Councillor's words: 'To cure the Light is to kill the Council.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? That I am the cure? What a joke! I've been living and bleeding in the Burrow for the past five years and, believe me, the Light has done nothing but get dimmer.” As he spoke he turned away, the light in the armoury nagging his thoughts.

  “I don't know, Roe. I don't know how you are to cure the Light but there is a power within you and I've witnessed it. Twice. I think even you cannot deny that.”

  Roe didn't respond other than by crouching next to The Beast and giving her a nibble on the ear.

  “Perhaps there is a way for us to find out more,” Ursula said, crossing over to Roe and lifting him up by the scruff of the neck. “I have had a chance to look at the rest of the manuscript these past evenings,” she continued. “It is written in Latin which was the language of the Hantsa scholars for many years. The script is faded but there is a portion which is coherent and does more than just praise Able in a decadent language. It says 'the Progeny of Able has the key and the defender of London shall have its brother. These keys when combined will open...' then it reaches the end of the page, the knowledge of what the key will open continuing on to a page we do not possess. But it does give the location of the defender of London. See here...” She turned the manuscript over and ornately stamped onto the backside was the image of a kingly fox wearing a robe and sharing a gaze with a similarly dressed Hantsa. They held a key together; paw to hand. “The Defender this page speaks of is not in the Burrow, he...or she...are on the surface and they are not a fox, they are Hantsa.”

  They all looked at each other in astonishment. Samson included. As far as all foxes knew there had never been any contact between the foxes of the Light and the Hantsa above. Ever.

  “Here is a map with the location of the defen
der in relationship to the ancient Tower of London and next to it as you can see is a picture of the key. A key which I have seen before, although it has taken me these five days to remember where. We are here to discuss what you are to do and I am here to tell what you must do. You must go to the graveyard within the Great Burrow and find the tomb of Audley. Around his neck you will find a chain and attached to this chain you will find a silver key. One-half of the key, that is. He was buried there many years ago by Daegal, a burial which I had funded. The silver key I insisted should stay around his neck. Perhaps that was a mistake. Perhaps I should have let you take it after all.”

  “Actually, best not to have,” said Daegal. “Most likely we would have melted it down and moulded it into something more fashionable.”

  “You must find the Defender,” Samson said in a growl. “You must complete the key and discover where it leads you. But above all you must protect Roe. His destiny is to cure the fading Light.” Samson gave Roe a dubious look, one Roe had been used to getting but had not seen since Shon's Spring. “The sooner he realizes that, the better for us all.”

  Roe spun on Samson and was stopped short by the old fox's gaze, a gaze which held the question as to whether or not the hero of the pits would disappoint. Then the look suddenly softened and so did his tone. Samson lowered his head slightly and said to the room, “Roe, you were born out of the Light but you did not need to be in the Light for you are the progeny of Able and you are the Light.”

  Chapter Ten

  Spring swept into the Parish of St. Blaise's with a sniffle and a sneeze. As happened every year, Edward's nose was red and dripping from the continuous onslaught of pollen, dust, and generally polluted muck kicked up by the million of Londoners scuffling about the city. The continuous belch of automobiles buzzing by on the road near the church added to the allergic swirl.