‘Yiss yiss, I’ve found wild strawberries an’ a plum tree too!’
They bathed in the warm stream shallows, getting all the dust and dirt of their ordeal out of their fur, drying off round the fire. Dippler shouted out with the sheer joy of being alive, his cheeks swollen with a great mouthful of apple and plum.
‘Good ole Mother Nature. Thanks for the feast, marm!’
With the fire in front of them and the summer sun on their backs they gorged themselves shamelessly on sweet ripe fruit. Soon eyelids began drooping, and they tossed the mess of apple cores and plum stones into the stream and lay down gratefully.
‘Dann mate, I’m glad you never died an’ yore still talkin’ t’me,’ murmured Dippler.
‘Oh, are you, Dipp? Well, that’s nice. But let’s remember there’s someone missing. Poor Song. Will we ever see her again?’
For a moment the two friends were silent. Eventually, Dippler put his arm round Dann. ‘Don’t worry. She’s a real warrior, that’n. I wouldn’t be surprised if one bright morning she doesn’t just come strolling by . . .’
Just then they were rudely interrupted. ‘Will youse both be quiet. Yiss yiss. An’ if y’don’t go to sleep I’ll kill the two of yer an’ never talk to either of you again.’
Lying on their backs in the peaceful noontide the three weary travellers snored uproariously. It was the snores that betrayed their presence to a creature roaming the woods. Fenno!
Dippler was wakened by the point of a rapier pressing against his throat. The Guosim shrew opened his eyes to be confronted by his hulking former comrade. Fenno’s brutal features split in an ugly grin, and he leaned close to Dippler, keeping his voice low. ‘You an’ yer mates snore too loud, Guosim. I ‘ad a feelin’ we’d meet up again someday. Quiet now, one peep outta you an’ yore dead. We’ve got a score t’settle, me’n’you.’
Despite Fenno’s warning Dippler managed to whisper, ‘Promise you won’t harm my mates?’
Fenno stared into Dippler’s hard, unfearing eyes. ‘I ain’t promisin’ nothin’ to you, Dippler. Log a Log’s liddle pet, ’Twas you started all this trouble fer me. Now get up on yore paws. Make one false move an’ I’ll slay yer friends!’
Dippler rose slowly. Behind Fenno he could see Burble, still snoring loudly. But Dann had one eye open, and he winked at Dippler. Fenno kept the rapier point pressed to Dippler’s throat, so Dann had to be careful of his next move. Rising silently behind Fenno, he suddenly grabbed the big shrew by both ears and pulled him roughly backward. Fenno could not keep his balance and fell flat on his back. Dippler’s footpaw was speedily on Fenno’s rapier paw, stopping him wielding the blade. The bullying shrew sneered up at him. ‘So it takes two of yer, eh? Why not wake the other one, then all three could gang up on me, cowards!’
Dippler looked across to Dann, his eyes bleak. ‘Stay out of this, mate. ‘Tis my fight!’
Dann nodded his head, then drew his sword and tossed it over. ‘So be it, friend. Here, borrow my blade.’
Burble sat upright, rubbing his eyes. ‘Can’t a beast get a bit o’ sleep round here? What’s goin’ on?’
Dippler caught the sword, cautioning Burble, ‘Nothin’ t’do with you, Burb. Stay out of it. This is personal.’
Dann and Burble moved away from the two shrews, and Dippler took his footpaw from Fenno’s rapier. The big shrew sprang upright, swishing his blade.
‘Now I’m goin’ to slay you like I did ole Log a Log!’
Dippler was unused to the heavier weapon, but he levelled it at his enemy. ‘You can’t kill me like you murdered Log a Log. I’m facin’ you, Fenno. You stabbed Log a Log in the back!’
They circled each other, blades flickering, each looking for an entrance. Fenno was a skilled swordbeast. ‘I’ll chop ye t’ribbons afore you can swing that clumsy thing!’ he taunted.
Dippler parried his strike awkwardly and stood waiting for the next thrust, trying to accustom his paw to the blade. ‘Yore a bully an’ a murderin’ coward, Fenno, you always were!’
Fenno swung and feinted. Bringing his rapier slashing down across the young shrew’s footpaw, he grinned nastily. ‘Bit by bit, I’ll carve ye nice an’ slow, young ’un!’
As he spoke he leapt forward, swinging sideways, aiming across his adversary’s eyes. Dippler was ready this time, and he swayed backward, chopping the heavy blade down and breaking Fenno’s rapier into two pieces. Fenno was quick, he jumped with both footpaws on the flat of the sword and headbutted Dippler. The young shrew saw stars, and fell flat on his back. Fenno grabbed the sword and dived at Dippler. Desperation and a quick turn of speed aided the younger shrew. He rolled over to one side, seizing the broken rapier and leaping upright. Fenno hit the ground in a cloud of dust. Dippler brought the broken rapier down forcefully with both paws as the hefty shrew rolled over. Breathing heavily and hardly able to lift his head, Dippler stood over the body of his enemy. ‘Shouldn’t ’ave let yer turn over, Fenno. I should’ve got you in the back, the way you killed Log a Log!’
Dann retrieved his sword. Kneeling, he examined the hilt of the broken rapier protruding from Fenno. ‘Dipp, this is your sword. I recognize the hilt.’
The young shrew took a glance at it. ‘That’s my blade, all right. How did that scum come t’be carryin’ it? I lost it back in the caves.’
Burble pondered a moment then held up a paw. ‘Ah, I’ve got it, yiss yiss. Yore rapier wasn’t a great heavy blade like Dann’s, ’Twill have been swept straight through yon mountain by the river into that stream. I’ll wager that’s where the big shrew feller found it, on the bed o’ the stream shallows, yiss yiss!’
Dippler picked up the bottom half of the blade and flung it into the stream, where it sank and went rolling away with the current. ‘Aye, per’aps yore right, Burb. Doesn’t make much difference now though, does it? No rapier could stand up to the steel in Martin the Warrior’s blade.’
Dann slung his sword over his back, into the belt that carried it. ‘Right y’are, Dipp. The sword ain’t been made that could best this blade!’
Later that afternoon they followed the streambank away from the mountain. The going was easy and they covered a fair bit of ground by nightfall. Dann was about to suggest they make camp when Burble gestured for silence. They stood quiet whilst Burble listened. He pointed to an ash. ‘Stay there by that tree. I’ll be back soon. Keep quiet now an’ keep yore heads down while I take a look around.’
Dann caught Burble’s paw. ‘Hold hard there, mate. What is it? There’s somethin’ yore not tellin’ us.’
The watervole sniffed the air, his nose pointing downstream. ‘I’ve been smellin’ a watermeadow up ahead for a while now. Yiss yiss, I’d know that heavy scent anywhere. But there’s somethin’ else, Dann, somethin’ not very nice. I don’t like it!’
The young squirrel unshouldered his sword. ‘Well, you’re not goin’ alone, Burb. Whatever ’tis we’ll face it together. Come on, stay together an’ go quietly.’
Late afternoon was slipping into evening when they sighted the watermeadow on their right. It was landlocked on the nearside, though a narrow gap at its far edge filtered out into a river some distance away. The scent of water lilies, crowfoot and bulrushes mixed with the smell of rotting vegetation was heavy on the air. Dippler’s voice sounded unusually loud in the sinister stillness which hung over everything. ‘Yukk! So that’s wot you could smell, eh, Burb?’
Burble glanced back at his friends as he pushed forward into a high fern thicket. ‘Ah no, ’twas somethin’ far worse than that!’
They navigated a path through the ferns, the ground squelching under their footpaws as they skirted the watermeadow. Burble steeled himself and thrust forward from the sheltering ferns. ‘Smell’s stronger now, somewhere around here . . . Yaaaaagh!’
He had walked straight into the half-decayed carcass of a water rat dangling from the limb of a crack willow, its grinning skull seeming to mock at them through eyeless sockets.
Dann froze. ‘So that�
�s what y’could smell . . .’
Phfffft sssssstck! Two sharpened bulrush spears came whizzing out of nowhere, one burying itself in the earth alongside Dippler, the other narrowly missing Dann’s head. Drums began pounding, and more spears came hissing through the air. Burble glimpsed the horde of lizards, newts and toads thrashing their way through the watery margin towards them.
‘Oh, great seasons o’ slaughter, run fer it, mates!’
Foul-smelling ooze squirted underpaw as they fled, flattening ferns and leaping over rotting treetrunks. A fearsome high-pitched wail arose from the reptiles pursuing them, and the drums throbbed louder. Dann made sure that whenever possible he kept hold of Dippler and Burble’s paws as they ran across the marshy ground. Behind them could be heard the slithering and keening of the cold-eyed hunters, growing closer by the moment. Burble stumbled and fell flat in damp brown sedge, spluttering and coughing. ‘Run f’yore lives. I can’t go no further!’
Roughly Dippler dragged the watervole upright. ‘We’re stickin’ t’gether, mate. Move yoreself!’
Stumbling and gasping, they dragged Burble along with them. Two toads and a lizard, who had come from a different angle, leapt out in front of them, spears at the ready. Clasping paws, the three companions charged straight at them, tumbling them flat before they had a chance to use their weapons. Dann felt the toad’s stomach underpaw, the breath whooshing out of the reptile as the young squirrel ran right over him. Into a grove of trees they pounded, dodging between the trunks, bulrush spears clattering off the branches around their heads. Dann knew they could not run much longer, but he staggered onward, looking wildly about for someplace to hide. There it was, a huge rotten elm trunk lying flat in a deep, leaf-carpeted depression, which had probably once been a stream.
‘Down there, quick, under the fallen tree!’
They flung themselves under the dead woodland giant, quickly scooping out the thick sodden loam and building it around them. Dann pushed the other two further under, drawing his sword and fighting his way in alongside them. Surrounded by the nauseating odour, regardless of woodlice and insects that crawled over them, they lay, scarcely daring to draw breath, their hearts pounding frantically, hoping fervently that the hunters would not discover them.
Moments seemed to stretch into hours, then Dann heard the rustle of dry leaves. The drums had ceased and the reptiles had stopped their wailing. Now there were slithering sounds. The pursuers were in the disused streambed, searching for them. The three friends gripped one another’s paws tightly, knowing that twilight had fallen over the area, giving them a slight hope that they might be bypassed. The watermeadow dwellers communicated with each other in a series of sibilant hisses and soft clicking noises, no language that the three friends could distinguish. Then they could sense the reptiles on the log above them. A bulrush spear probed into the hiding place, scratched Dippler’s back and raked Dann’s paw, poked about in the wet underloam, scraped against the log’s underside, then withdrew. Dann, Dippler and Burble lay motionless, knowing that the streambed was swarming with toads, lizards and newts. The foul air was stifling, black mud and a soggy compound of long seasons’ dead leaves pressed in on them. They were trapped.
* * *
29
Ascrod sat out on the flatlands in front of the Abbey. It was a warm moonless night, the land was still and calm. A shudder of delight shook the Marlfox. He had solved the problem. Redwall’s main gate was only held shut by a long wooden bar set in open-topped holders, two on either side of the double doors. One good push upward by four strong creatures holding a spear through the central crack between the doors would knock the bar out of position. Ascrod had spent an hour at twilight, peering into the crack, even testing the theory by quietly shoving in his axeblade and pressing upward. The bar had budged slightly. His plan would work! All that remained was for Predak to return with the army. The Marlfox listened to the warm toll of Redwall’s muted twin bells, softly ringing out the midnight hour. With any luck Predak would arrive with Vannan, Raventail and the others in the dawn hour, when all was quiet and the Redwallers would still be abed, suspecting nothing. Blending with the landscape so that he was almost invisible, he lay flat and watched the night sentries idly patrolling the walltop. By dawn, if they were not relieved, those guards would be practically slumbering.
A single skylark began its lone song in the half-light as the vermin army arrived. Under Vannan’s directions they filed along the ditch which ran along the west side of the path outside Redwall. Ascrod slid into the ditch, gesturing towards the still figures of the shrews who were acting as wall guards.
‘See, just as I figured, they’re dozing nicely. I’ll wager that apart from a few cooks that whole Abbey is still sleeping.’
Raventail pawed keenly at his cutlass. ‘Besure you right dissa time, magicfox, kye arr!’
Ascrod shot the ferret a withering glance. ‘Don’t worry, my ragged friend, my plan will work. All you have to do is follow orders. Leave the thinking to Marlfoxes.’
Raventail licked the stained blade of his cutlass. ‘Magicfox give order, me’n’mybeasts kill kill plenty!’
Predak gave a long narrow spear to four water rats she had personally selected, big, rough-looking beasts. ‘Right, let’s get it done. You four, follow me and Ascrod. Vannan, wait here until you see our signal, one wave of the spear. Then come quick, no yelling warcries and shouting to let them know we’re here. Clear?’
Vannan’s pale eyes scanned the waiting horde of bandaged and poulticed vermin, making sure they had heard the order. ‘Just get the gates open, we’ll come silently.’
Old Friar Butty had passed a restless night in the gatehouse. It was close to dawn when he guessed the reason he had only slept half the night: he had dozed off and missed supper. The Recorder never slept well on an empty stomach. He decided to have a good early breakfast, whilst helping in the kitchen. The ancient squirrel left the gatehouse and began walking across the lawn towards the Abbey, but he had scarce gone a score of paces when there was a dull thud and the gate bar hit the ground. Friar Butty turned and found himself peering through the half-light of dawn at six creatures, two Marlfoxes and four water rats, one of whom was waving a long spear. Dark shapes poured out of the ditch and into the open gateway. Butty ran as fast as his aged limbs would carry him towards the main building, shouting, ‘Attack! We’re being invaded! Sound the alarm!’
Rusvul was up and about early, helping the breakfast cooks. He was coming out of the door with an apple basket in one paw, heading for the orchard, when he heard the cries. The water rat carrying the spear was chasing Butty, trying to cut him down before he reached the Abbey. Racing hard, he was barely a paw’s length behind the old Recorder when he drew back the spear, ready to stab forward. Rusvul’s apple basket caught him full in the face at the same instant that the squirrel warrior’s flying kick struck his stomach. Rusvul grabbed the spear and flung it, bringing down a ferret who was leading the charge. Seizing Butty’s paw, he dragged him headlong into the Abbey and slammed the door shut. Rusvul’s roaring boomed through Great Hall as he shot home the bolts on the big door.
‘Wake, Redwallers! It’s an attack! They’re inside the grounds!’
Janglur Swifteye came bounding downstairs, furious. ‘First night we’re not on watch, Rus, an’ they’re in!’
Guosim shrews, Redwallers and the Noonvale players came hurrying into Great Hall, some half dressed, others still in night attire. Janglur pushed them this way and that, yelling, ‘Shove the tables over to the windows an’ defend ’em! Tragglo, you an’ Melilot get all the weapons you can muster! Florian, take yore creatures an’ barricade the door, guard it! Sister Sloey, see the Dibbuns stay upstairs out of the way! Rusvul, get to an upstairs window an’ see wot’s goin’ on out there, mate!’
Cregga Badgermum felt blindly about her until she touched Janglur. ‘What can I do to help?’
Ellayo and Rimrose took the blind badger’s paws.
‘You come upstair
s with us. We’ll see what we can do from the upper windows!’
An argument had broken out on the front lawn between Ascrod and Raventail. Dawn was up, the rosy glow illuminating the two quarrelling creatures.
‘Babarian oaf! I said to come silently when the signal was given!’
‘Watch youmouth, magicfox, we came plenty plenty quiet. Oldmouse runnin’ away didmuch shoutin’, kye arr, that one shoutshout!’
Vannan interrupted the dispute. ‘He’s right, brother, we charged without a single sound. It was the old Redwaller who alerted them.’
Ascrod was not in a good mood at their failure to get inside the Abbey building. He turned on his sister, snarling. ‘Who asked you? There were eight sentries on that wall, but the stupid ferret and his gang slew seven of them, so now we only have one hostage to bargain with. Perhaps you’d like to side with Raventail and slay him too?’
The Guosim shrew Mayon lay on the grass, wounded and bound. He kicked his legs, catching Raventail. ‘Aye, go ahead an’ slay me, slimesnout. I’m tied up an’ you’ve got me outnumbered. Shouldn’t be too ‘ard for a hero like you!’
The barbarian ferret began kicking Mayon respeatedly. ‘Kye arr, I kicka you plenty good for dat!’
Ascrod dragged Raventail roughly off the shrew. ‘Idiot! You kill that shrew, an’ I’ll slay you!’
Raventail brandished his cutlass under the Marlfox’s nose. ‘Yakkachak! Dat’ll be th’day. C’mon, magicfox, you wanta fight Raventail, mefight plentygood, kye arr, plentygood!’
Predak dragged them apart. ‘What’s the matter with you two? We should be fighting the Redwallers. Let’s concentrate on getting inside the Abbey!’
Rusvul came downstairs grim-faced to make his report to Janglur. ‘They’re all over the place out there an’ our main gates are wide open. Bargle’s dead an’ six other shrews who were on wallguard. They’ve got Mayon, he’s still alive. What do we do?’
Janglur sat on the bottom stairs, gnawing at his lip. ‘Well, we can’t break out an’ fight ’em, they’ve got us far outnumbered, matey. Then there’s the old ’uns an’ the Dibbuns to think of. Looks like they’ve got us boxed in.’
Marlfox (Redwall) Page 29
