Then a moist, wet wind came, and the snow began to thaw slowly, making the ground sodden and slushy and the pastures a mixture of green and yellow grass and remnant snow in the hollows where the wind had gathered it. While out on the marshes beyond Marsh End, the snow melted into the water and mud, and at night froze and was deadly still. Then wind again, and change. Uncomfortable weather that did not know which way it was going to go.
As far as he could, Bracken always kept himself between Mandrake and the Chamber of Dark Sound, because then, if he was spotted, he could retreat to the relative safety of the central tunnels beyond the chamber, in which, should he be chased there, Mandrake would certainly lose himself.
The precaution was wise, for the moment inevitably came when Mandrake sensed his presence.
‘Shush, girl,’ he said to Violet. ‘I think I hear the Stone Mole ahead.’
Bracken froze and tried to steal away, but Mandrake had heard and was after him, all his old savage speed still there.
Bracken raced ahead, his knowledge of the tunnels making up for Mandrake’s extraordinary speed. He reached the Chamber of Dark Sound, raced across it to the seventh entrance, where the mole skeleton still lay undisturbed, but instead of running on he halted between the two great flintstones that stood either side of it and turned to face the chamber. He waited until Mandrake was about to enter and then began to hum softly up into the convolutions of the terrible owl face above. The effect was extraordinary. The noises that had so terrified him when he was in front of it now sounded out beyond him and gave him the impression of having great strength and power. His talons and shoulders seemed bigger, his sight more deadly clear. He seemed to be able to see across the chamber, which normally was not quite possible, and there to catch sight of Mandrake, halted and baffled, moving as if in slow motion, struggling forward into a sound that clearly caused him great fear and distress. Bracken watched him almost dispassionately, seeing his massive size, each limb seeming as big as a mole, the eyes red with aggression, but fearing none of it. He knew with certainty that so long as he sounded the noise, Mandrake would never be able to reach him.
But the effect of the sound was soon subtler and more evil than that. It began to make Bracken want to torment Mandrake, to hurt him, it made him feel that he really was as powerful as the owl looked; it made him want to kill Mandrake. Worse, it made him start to forget that his real aim was to get Violet away from Mandrake and the Ancient System. For his now dispassionate gaze fell not only on Mandrake but also on Violet, who had followed into the chamber after him and now stood, apparently unaffected by the sound, in its centre.
Bracken’s talons were protracted forward, his back reared up and his snout arched cruelly down, his mouth and teeth setting into a rigour of humming as he felt himself losing control of his body and the hum began to take him over, its evil sound beginning to creep into his spirit.
It was Violet who stopped him. She watched puzzled as Mandrake writhed and thrashed about at the noise, which was only a nasty noise as far as she was concerned, and then she wandered over towards its source. She saw a white skeleton, but that didn’t worry her because she had no idea what it was, and anyway, what was crouched by it was far more interesting. It was a mole that stood like stone, its eyes wide and its teeth clenched. It had terribly big talons, all stretched out. It was humming. It was the stonemole! The thing Mandrake was looking for! She ran forward to it and touched it and oh… it was real, it had fur just like her…
The touch of her paw broke the spell of the hum and slowly Bracken relaxed, and then fell silent, the sound fading out in the chamber as both he and Mandrake seemed to come out of a nightmare.
Poor Violet, upset by shock after shock, started to cry; Mandrake, hearing her, started running towards them both. Bracken stepped forward, put a paw round her shoulders, and pulled her back through the flint entrance.
‘Violet,’ he said urgently. ‘Listen! Run down this tunnel and go into the first entrance you see in the tunnel it comes into. Hide in the shadows there. I’ll come. Run!’
She only half recognised him, but she knew his voice, he was a mole who knew Rue. Oh, that was a relief! And she was running, she was running, and perhaps he’d help. ‘Run!’ he shouted after her, ‘run!’
It was as Bracken turned back into the chamber to face Mandrake, who was now halfway across it, and coming inexorably towards him, that the whole chamber was filled with another sound, one that took them both totally by surprise—the pattering of a hundred running paws, and of grim mutterings of moles, angry and full of bloodlust.
