‘Look at the Duncton Stone! It should stand straight and tall like the trees around it. But see how it tilts over towards the west, where Uffington lies! The system of which it is so much a part is decayed, and it tilts for weakness at the knowledge, seeking the help of Uffington. I tell you that the day will come when by our strength this Stone will stand aright again, proud of the system from whose strength it will soar to the sky and whose power we will not question or, like Rune, try to corrupt. It will stand as straight as the mighty Ballagan set it and when it does all moles shall know that our system has been healed.
‘This is not a night for fighting and Midsummer is not the time for blood. But I tell you that until the time comes when the Stone is the true centre of our system once more, then those who know that there is nothing without the Stone must fight for their belief. I, who have run so often in fear from the talons of death, will run no more, but stand and face what comes with talons of my own. Their strength comes from the power and the silence that lies within the Stone and which each of us may hear and feel.
‘It is no sin to run, and if any want to go, then let them go in peace. But the hour has finally come when everymole, whether from Duncton Wood or the pastures, or Uffington itself, must stand and fight if their belief is in the Stone. Let each one of you look at it now and decide.’ Bracken pointed again at the Stone and everymole there, including the youngsters, looked at the Stone in the light of his words. Not a single mole moved until, one by one, they turned back to look again at Bracken. The night was stirring now with wind and around them in the wood were heavy movements in the undergrowth, first on one side and then on another. The sound of henchmoles closing in. It was too late for anymole there to escape.
‘Let the youngsters gather round the flanks of the Stone, which will protect them, and let the rest range themselves closely about the clearing, for soon Rune will be here. Let Pasture mole mingle with Duncton mole and let us all fight as one.’
Then around them, in the darkness beyond the clearing, there were creepings and peerings, whisperings and plottings, slinkings and dark talons massing for attack. Somewhere in the darkness Rune crouched, listening to the sounds about him, waiting for his forces to mass themselves completely around the Stone clearing. He was smiling. There had been a moment when they should have attacked him—when he was coming up the slopes and feared an ambush— but now the advantage was his. Why, the fools were gathered in the moonlight by the Stone where they could be seen clearly and smelt. The snivelling little Marsh End youngsters were gathered round the Stone with them, waiting to be comfortably killed by his henchmoles, who would take pleasure in catching up with moles who had escaped them down at the Marsh End. Henchmoles do not like being made to feel foolish.
Near Rune, Nightshade slipped her body among the contorted and twisted shadows of the smaller roots of a beech tree—shapes it fitted perfectly. Her talons wound and wove with continuous movement as if she were caressing the night air into dangerous shapes as she snouted out the Stone beyond the darkness. She was casting spells for victory.
‘When the moon is at its peak, Rune, I want to be free with the Stone, yes… mm… to wipe the blood of the young into its holes and crevices and make a curse on all the Marshenders unfortunate enough to survive. What a pity if they all died. Yes… mm…’
Her voice was slimy, like a dying worm, but it clung to the mind of any who heard it, suffocating any thought of love or light or colour that might already be there and aborting any about to be born. Rune, however, wallowed in its sound. Nightshade had waited a long time for this night, as had the dark and treacherous generations whose dark endeavours had produced her, and other moles like her who had lived on the edge of the system until the darkness of Rune sucked them inside it, and to the very heart of Barrow Vale. Yes… mm…
The first attack was swift, sudden and very deadly. Five henchmoles broke cover into the clearing, ran straight across to where a group of Marshender males stood ready, and with swift and fatal lunges killed four moles where they crouched. Just like that. The blood had barely started to flow before they were gone again, and as the natural movement of the defenders of the Stone swayed towards the shadows into which they had disappeared, another attack was launched from a different direction, this time to where Stonecrop and Bracken stood, side by side. Perhaps sensing how dangerous these two were, the attackers sidestepped them, and two more moles went down, before Bracken, with a relaxed lunge, felled one where he stood and so injured another that it took only a quick kick from Stonecrop to finish him off.
