Urchin and the Rage Tide Read online

  “Keep this safely,” she said. “This is the best honey from the bees in my herb garden. It is excellent for restoring health, so it will help her if you find her weak, injured, or distressed—and you, too, if you need it to renew your energy on your journey. Now sleep.”

  That night, for the first time since the rage tide, Corr slept a long, deep sleep. In the morning, Queen Larch herself took him to his boat.

  “Your Majesty,” he said as he took up the oars. “May I—do you mind if I ask—what do you mean to call the palace?”

  “The House of the Marked Squirrel,” she said. Corr managed to smile.

  “I’ll tell Urchin,” he said, and stepped into the boat.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  RCHIN , NEEDLE, AND HOPE scrambled up to the hilltop shelter where Furtle and Ouch had last been seen. Myrtle was having difficulty keeping up, so they took turns carrying her on their backs.

  “Furtle!” she called. “Ouch!”

  “Louder, please,” said Urchin.

  “Furtle!” yelled Myrtle. “Ouch, ouch, OUCH!”

  “That’s enough, Myrtle,” said Needle. “It’s all right for you, Urchin, she’s not right next to your left ear.”

  “Sh!” said Hope, and added, “Please.” He stopped, and put his ear to the ground, listening. He held out a paw for them to wait, ran a little farther, and listened again. “There’s something there, a cave or something, but I can’t tell how to get in. We’ll have to go through the nursery.”

  It must have been time for a nap, as babies were being settled into nests and sung to. Seeing the visitors, Mother Huggen and Moth both put their claws to their lips. Hope raised his head, sniffed, and scurried straight to the back wall. He tapped it with his claws, turning his head to listen.

  “He has to do that,” said Urchin quietly to Mother Huggen. “He’s trying to find Furtle and Ouch.”

  Mother Huggen nodded approvingly. “He’ll find them, if anyone can,” she said.

  “He’s as good as a mole,” said Moth.

  “This way!” called Hope. A row of half-asleep hedgehogs sat up to watch.

  Mother Huggen didn’t seem to mind about the little ones waking up. She hurried over and crouched stiffly to see what Hope had found.

  “There’s a crack in the wall here,” said Hope. “It’s very little.”

  “I still can’t see it,” said Mother Huggen, squinting at the wall. “But if you say it’s there, I’ll take your word for it.”

  “It’s tiny,” said Hope. “Most full-grown animals wouldn’t be able to get in, but it’s hollow behind. It’s a cave, I think. Furtle and Ouch could have found their way in.”

  “I couldn’t get in there,” said Urchin. “Neither could you, Needle.”

  “I could!” said Myrtle hopefully.

  “I think I might,” said Moth. She took off her apron and lay down to look at the gap. “Could I dig it out a bit more?”

  Just then, the floor and walls of the cave began to shake.

  “Get back!” shouted Hope. “Everyone, back!”

  Babies were snatched from their nests. Needle and Urchin, their arms full of wriggling little animals, ran.

  “No!” said Hope. “Spread out! Back wall—some of you, back against that wall—some of you over there.…There’s a vibration in the earth—tree roots are moving.…”

  “Spread the weight!” said Urchin, who had realized what Hope was trying to do. He ran to organize the puzzled animals. “You, you, you, up against this wall. Stand absolutely still. Needle, take this lot outside.…”

  “Downhill, not up!” shouted Hope.

  “You three, stay here with Mother Huggen,” called Urchin—then he, too, heard what Hope had heard. From somewhere a little farther uphill came a coarse trickling as if someone were pouring sand or grit, and all the time it became louder.

  Something creaked. There was a cracking and a tearing as if a tree were being torn up by the roots, then a roar—Needle covered Myrtle’s ears—a rumble, and a crash that made the earth shake. Everyone flinched. Urchin bent to shield the young squirrels in his arms. A thin rain of earth and sand landed on every head.

  “Hope?” said Urchin. He didn’t dare move, even to look up.

  “Keep still,” said Hope softly.

  Urchin stood absolutely still, holding the baby squirrels firmly in his arms, praying that they wouldn’t wriggle or kick. In the intent silence he could hear every trickle of sand. He heard the breathing of the squirrels in his arms. A crash above him made him duck and squeeze his eyes shut—his hold on the babies tightened. One of them squeaked.

  “Sorry,” whispered Urchin.

  All became quiet. He opened his eyes. Apart from more sand and earth on the floor, nothing had changed. When Hope said, “It’s stopped now,” he found he had been holding his breath.

  “Don’t anyone move yet,” Urchin ordered. “Except you, of course, Hope. You should give the orders now.”

  “Then I’d better just make sure it’s safe, sir,” he said. “Moth, will you come, too, please?”

  Hope and Moth scurried about, listening, and scenting the earth. Then they had a whispered conversation, nodded, ran out of the burrow, and finally came back to Urchin.

  “It’s all safe,” said Hope. Moth brushed herself down, took the squirrels out of Urchin’s arms, and held on firmly to the one who tried to get away.

  “Well done, everyone!” said Urchin.

  “And enough excitement for one afternoon!” said Mother Huggen.

  “A huge elm tree’s fallen down!” said Moth. “It must have been directly over the cave Hope found.”

  “Storm must have felled it,” said Mother Huggen.

  “It wasn’t just the storm,” said Moth. “Its roots had been damaged and loosened from underneath, just as if somebody had been scrabbling at it. It couldn’t hold. All the roots on one side came down and it keeled over.”

  “It took a lot of earth and stone with it,” said Hope. “Some of it fell underneath and some rolled down the hill.”

  Myrtle’s face creased as if she were about to cry. “Were Furtle and Ouch down there?” she asked, and fell weeping into Mother Huggen’s arms.

  “Oh, Myrtle!” said Needle, stroking the spines on Myrtle’s head. “They’re probably all right!”

  “We’re not certain that they were in there, Myrtle,” said Urchin. “And if they were, they might be safe. As soon as the earth’s had time to settle, we’ll investigate.”

  “We can do it now,” said Hope. “There’s no more loose earth. And I think we can get in sideways now—only, I don’t mean the sideways sort of sideways, I mean we can go in through the side of the hill, where the roots came away.”

  It took a bit of scrabbling and scrambling, but soon Urchin dropped down into the chamber where Furtle and Ouch had slept the night before. Hope and Needle climbed in after him, and helped Myrtle down. Finding their moss bed, she curled up on it tightly with her paw in her mouth.

  “Found anything?” called Crispin’s voice above them.

  “Your Majesty!” said Urchin. As the king and Prince Oakleaf appeared, bending down to look through a gap in the tree roots, Urchin, Needle, and Hope all bowed. Myrtle copied them, drying her eyes.

  Crispin and Oakleaf twisted through the tree roots and leaped down to land beside Urchin. It seemed to Urchin that there was a grimace of pain across Crispin’s face as he landed, but it was gone so quickly that Urchin couldn’t be sure if he’d seen it at all.

  “Oakleaf and I were doing a patrol of the island; then Oakleaf meant to join you,” said Crispin. “Then we saw the tree fall.” Sitting down, he lifted Myrtle onto his lap. “Tears, Myrtle?”

  “My br…bro…brother and…and…and sister were in here!” she sobbed into his shoulder. Hope stopped sniffing the ground and nodded in Crispin’s direction.

  “Well, they’re not here now,” said the king, smoothing her spines. He looked over her head at Needle and Urchin. “There’s no sign of them,
is there?”

  “They might…have…have…been…cr…crushed!” wailed Myrtle.

  “I don’t think so,” said Crispin. “Let’s see if we can find anything, shall we?”

  “There were hedgehogs in here last night, Your Majesty,” said Hope. “Young ones. But I don’t think anyone got hurt.”

  Urchin and Needle were already searching. It was reassuring to find no sign of injury. But they did find small, twisting tunnels.

  “They’re all very narrow,” observed Urchin, who had to lie on the floor to take a good look.

  Crispin drew his sword and prodded it through one tunnel after another. “Blocked by the fall,” he said quietly. “We need to get them dug out, but without doing any more damage. Oakleaf, find some good moles. Hope, have a listen, will you? Myrtle, will you go to Needle now?”

  He left Myrtle in Needle’s care and sat down beside Urchin, lowering his voice. “The tides haven’t finished with us yet,” he said. “There’s more flooding and wild weather to come. The old animals—Apple and Tay, that generation—are saying they’ve never known anything like it.”

  “We’ll survive somehow, sir,” said Urchin.

  “That’s not all,” continued Crispin. “Mossberry’s followers—the ones who survived—are convinced that he prophesied all this, which really doesn’t help at all. It’s enough coping with a wrecked island, without a mad squirrel spreading stories of doom and destruction.”

  Urchin couldn’t think of anything to say, so he said nothing.

  “And the really annoying thing,” continued Crispin, “is that we can’t begin to rebuild our homes and repair the damage until after the next wave. All we can do is be strong, look confident, and keep everyone feeling like Mistmantle islanders, even if Mistmantle Island is crumbling around them.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” said Urchin. A movement caught his eye. “What’s Myrtle doing?”

  As they stopped talking and leaned forward, Needle put a clawtip to her lips. Myrtle had stopped crying. With a faraway look on her face she had taken a pawful of moss and was pressing, turning, and shaping it.

  The sandy burrow where Furtle and Ouch had sheltered had become drafty in the night, which was probably why they had woken unusually early. Ouch had squeezed his eyes shut and curled up, ready to go back to sleep. A light dusting of sand and earth from the tree root had fallen on Furtle’s upturned face, making her sit up and scowl.

  “It’s raining,” she said. “Only it’s sand. It’s sanding. And it’s cold.”

  The next shower of earth brought down a few earthworms and beetles. Furtle watched, wide-eyed, as they fell about her.

  “Breakfast!” she said. “It’s raining breakfast!”

  Ouch forgot that he didn’t want to get up, and did get up. Earth spilled over them as they ate.

  “I like the breakfast,” said Ouch, looking up.

  “Apart from the breakfast, it’s not very nice in here anymore,” said Furtle. “It’s leaky. Eat up all your nice earwigs, and then we’ll go.”

  By this time she had no idea which way led back to Mother Huggen and the big chamber, but she had forgotten all about Mother Huggen’s orders. She and Ouch were on a big adventure, and nothing else mattered. Ouch always followed her without question. So she found the way out of the cave that looked most interesting—the lowest, tiniest, and twistiest—and followed it.

  “What are you making, Myrtle?” asked Needle after a while.

  Myrtle looked at the moss and frowned. “It isn’t anything yet,” she said, and went on playing with the moss, singing softly to herself and swaying. Finally, as they watched, she made an archway, and began to shape something that might be a flower.

  “An archway means a home,” said Needle. “Do you think they’ve tried to go home?”

  Myrtle didn’t answer. She went on playing with the moss and singing until she had made a flower, and placed it on the center of the archway.

  “Can you tell me anything about that flower, Myrtle?” asked Needle.

  “It’s hard to get it right with moss,” said Myrtle. “I wish I had the paints and things. It should be yellow.”

  “A yellow flower?” suggested Needle. “Marigold for joy? A joyful home?”

  “No, it’s the wrong shape,” said Urchin. “Could it be a spring flower? A home for springtime?”

  “It’s a kingcup!” exclaimed King Crispin. “Is that right, Myrtle?”

  Myrtle looked at the flower with her head on one side, as if she couldn’t be quite sure what it was, but if she listened patiently it might tell her. Then she said, “Yes. Yes, please, Your Majesty, it’s a kingcup.”

  “Good girl,” said Crispin.

  “Kingcup for royalty!” said Urchin. “So we’re looking for a royal home?”

  “The tower?” Needle suggested. “Could they be in the tower?”

  “It’s well guarded,” said Crispin. “There may be a way of tunneling through, but those two little ones couldn’t do it.”

  “Or the old Mole Palace?” said Urchin. “We’ve cleared everyone out of it, but they might have gone back.”

  “Could well be,” said Crispin. “We need light animals who can check in there without starting any landslides. Oakleaf, you go, and take Tipp and Todd with you. Urchin, try the tower. Fingal and Swanfeather can check the underground lake in case they’re on the way to the tower by water. Needle, don’t let Myrtle out of your sight.”

  Ouch didn’t know how far he’d walked, but it felt like too far—certainly too far without anything to drink.

  “My paws are tired,” he said. “All four of them.”

  “Not far to go now,” said Furtle, who knew that if she kept on long enough they would be in one of two places. They would either be back where they had started, or they would be Somewhere Else. She had expected that, sooner or later, they would have met some other animals in these tunnels, and was a tiny bit worried that nobody was about, but she wouldn’t tell Ouch.

  “More stairs!” sighed Ouch. Even his nose felt tired. But the only way to go was up, so they went on, stair upon stair, scrabbling away at moss and fallen earth. Some of the steps were overgrown with moss, and here and there they had to weave their way in and out of tree roots, but they came out at last to an arched doorway. The wooden door looked locked, but when they tried it, it creaked and opened.

  “Here we are!” cried Furtle, as if she had been meaning to get here all along, though in fact she had never known it existed. “This is our little house!”

  Ouch forgot his weariness at once.

  “It can be our palace!” he exclaimed.

  It was strangely like a palace, though moss and tree roots grew thickly everywhere and made it dark. Ouch ran about, stretching up to put his paws on windowsills where ivy trailed. Furtle ran through the chamber to find an adjoining room from which she could hear running water. Opening another door, she found a spring.

  “It’s perfect!” she cried. “You’re right, Ouch, it’s a palace!”

  When they had pulled out the moss that blocked the windows, they found they were left with heaps of beautiful soft bedding, a generous supply of beetles, and a spectacular view of the sea far below them. The chamber was rounded, with windows on all sides to let in as much light as possible, and, after running from one to another to look down, they hugged each other in delight. They could not have imagined anything so perfect, and in finding it, they forgot everything else.

  Ruffle the hedgehog was running away from the tower as Urchin reached it. He had heard Mossberry shouting before he got there, and, looking up, saw a clenched paw at a barred window. A guard nodded a greeting as Urchin ran past, skimmed up, and jumped through a window.

  “Afternoon, Urchin,” said Todd the mole, who was in the corridor. “Mossberry’s noisy today. Been at it for hours. With any luck, he’ll have shouted himself hoarse soon.”

  “Freedom!” shouted Mossberry.

  “We had to fit bars on that window specially for him,” s
aid Todd, and added quietly, “Forty-eight. You’d think he’d be grateful. He complained because we took his chair away.”

  “Why did you do that?” asked Urchin.

  “Because he’d already smashed it into matchwood and thrown it at the guard who brought his dinner,” said Todd. “How’s it going?”

  “The king wants you and Tipp to go to the Mole Palace,” said Urchin. “We’re still looking for those little hedgehogs, Furtle and Ouch, and they could be in there. Prince Oakleaf’s going, too.”

  “Delighted!” said Todd. “Captain Padra’s about to take over here. I’ll be glad to get away from the Calamity King there.”

  “Calamity!” cried Mossberry from the cell.

  “Told you,” said Todd. “That’s another four points, and right at the end of my watch! Fifty-two.”

  “Points?” asked Urchin.

  “It’s a game, sir,” said Todd. “It whiles away the time up here. Two points for ‘freedom,’ four for ‘calamity,’ and six for ‘death to all tyrants.’ He says some other things, too, but they’re a bit on the offensive side and it doesn’t seem right to win points for them. That means—oh!” He stood to attention. “Here’s Captain Padra. Mossberry’s in good voice, sir.”

  “Plague and fire, is he still at it?” said Padra. “Hello, Urchin.”

  “Hear me!” yelled Mossberry.

  “Fifty-two points, sir,” said Todd. “And I don’t know if he’s eaten anything today. Certainly not his breakfast, because he threw that at me.”

  “Freedom!” screamed Mossberry.

  “Fifty-four,” said Todd. “Have you seen my brother, sir? The king wants us.”

  “He was with Brother Juniper,” said Padra. “Oh, be quiet, Mossberry. How can an animal think straight with that going on?” He lowered his voice. “With any luck he’ll fall asleep soon. The odd thing is that we still get a few devoted animals coming here to see him, and they’d risk their lives to get him out. Plaguing—royalty and present company excepted—but, plaguing squirrels! I’ll take over now, Todd.”