‘Aye aye, matey, we ’eard the commotion over this way so we cruised over to take a glim. I’m Folrig Stream-paw an’ this fat frogwalloper is Ruddle Banksnout.’
Ruddle promptly passed possession of Smerc’s leg to Sunflash. ‘Ahoy, just ’ang on t’this bucko for a tick, matey!’
Ruddle hurled himself upon Folrig, and they wrestled and kicked, buffeting each other all over the ground.
‘Frogwalloper is it, you bottle-bottomed flotsam, us Banksnouts was always ten times more ’andsome than you Streampaws!’
‘Haharr! Did yer say ’andsome, yore mother wouldn’t let yer swim in the water ’cos you frightened all the fishes!’
They rolled over and over, locked together, pummelling each other as they laughed uproariously and traded insults.
‘Yore father tried t’swap you fer a toadbabe when you was a pup, he said it was nicer lookin’ by far! Hohohoho!’
‘Harrharrharr, matey, my ole granma used t’say, show me a good-lookin’ Streampaw an’ I’ll die ’appy. She’s still livin’!’
Sunflash sat up, still with the writhing Smerc in one paw, and said, ‘Would you two like to stop fighting for a moment, I’m getting weary just sitting watching you!’
They quit tussling straight away and stooped, staring closely at the mud-caked Sunflash.
‘Blow me down, is that a badger be’ind all that swampmuck?’
‘Aye, so ’tis, an’ he looks prettier than you, even with all that muck on ’im. Sit still, messmate, I’ll soon ’ave you clean an’ shipshape with a drop o’ clear water.’
Ruddle dashed off to find water, and Folrig took Smerc from the badger, shaking him by his loose neckskin. ‘You rotten liddle scumslimer, I’ll wager a willow’erb to a watershrimp yore be’ind all this!’
The newt kicked and squealed, pointing upward to the eel draped in the alder branches. ‘No, no, streamy-dog, not me, it was ’im up there!’
Folrig grinned broadly at Skarlath. ‘I s’pose you put ole squirmskin aloft up there. Why don’t y’take this whimperin’ whelk up to join ’im, they’re mates y’know, shame to keep ’em apart.’
Weeping and wailing piteously, the newt was borne up to the high branches and deposited there next to the eel, who was clinging grimly to the thin branches complaining, ‘Ffffeel sssssick up here.’
Skarlath waggled a talon in his face. ‘Eelscum, feel grateful this bird let you live!’
Ruddle could find only a bit of wet grass, but he cleaned Sunflash’s eyes and nostrils as best he could. ‘There y’are, mate, at least y’can see an’ sniff proper now. Come with me an’ ole ugly mug there, we’ll navigate yer back to good dry land away from this swamp. May’ap you’d like to visit our den an’ take a bite with us, eh?’
Sunflash thanked them and pulled himself upright slowly.
Folrig was looking this way and that. ‘Hold ’ard, where’s yer pal, the kestrel bird?’
Powdered mud fell dustily from the badger as he began walking. ‘Oh, Skarlath comes and goes as he pleases. No doubt he knows I’m safe with you, so he decided to take off for a while. By the way, what about the newt and the eel up there? Hadn’t we better let them down? They might starve and die.’
Ruddle chuckled. ‘Not them two, when we’re gone they’ll slither down one way or another, a bit o’ penance don’t do rogues like them no ’arm.’
It was nearly twilight when, after a long and perilous trek, they cleared the swamplands and came to a wooded terrain backed by mounds of smooth ancient rocks. The otters made their way towards the rocks; Sunflash heard water splashing as they skirted the fern-fringed bank of a stream. Looking further up to where the rounded rocks reared their massive forms, he saw a beautiful waterfall.
Folrig stepped out jauntily, calling back to Sunflash, ‘We’ll soon see if yore a badger underneath yore swamp-coat, an’ I ’ope yore a prettier sight than ole rot-the-apples there!’
Fighting and chortling the two otters dived beneath the falls, letting the torrents batter them. Sunflash was a bit apprehensive at first, but after gingerly stepping beneath the cascade he revelled in the feel of clean, icy water drenching him after the long hot trek through the swamps. Weariness fell from the badger’s limbs, and a marvellous sense of wellbeing enveloped him. With a playful roar he joined the otters in their game, seizing them both in a hug.
‘Eeulaliaaa! I’m Sunflash the Mace and I’m better looking than both of you put together, you nut-nosed, boulder-headed beasts!’
Retaliating, Folrig and Ruddle got Sunflash in a double headlock between them, shouting: ‘Drown ’im quick afore he scares the young uns!’
‘Wot an ’orrible sight, mate, a badger with a butter-dipped nose!’
The three fell about laughing in the water, then suddenly Ruddle plunged deeper into the thick cascade and vanished. Sunflash pawed water from his eyes and looked at Folrig. ‘Where’s Ruddle gone?’ he asked.
‘Into the den, matey. ’Ere, give me yore paw an’ I’ll show yer.’
It was a cave at the back of the waterfall, completely hidden from view. Stepping from beneath the falls onto a raised ledge, Sunflash followed Folrig around a slight bend and there they were, in a dry, rush-strewn cavern. Ruddle had already put flint to tinder and set a small fire.
‘Welcome in, messmate,’ he said, ‘it ain’t much, but ’tis ’ome fer two ’andsome streamdogs such as us.’
Sunflash dried himself by shaking off and rubbing vigorously with aromatic dried grass. Ruddle produced beakers and a big gourd jug full of pennycloud and rosehip squash. Folrig busied himself chopping leeks and white turnips into a cauldron, eyeing Sunflash’s hornbeam limb as he did. ‘That’s a mighty big ’eadbonker, matey, did you make it?’
Sunflash hefted the weapon fondly. ‘Aye, it’s my mace,’ he said.
The irrepressible otter pointed to a bundle of thick red roots. ‘Mace, eh? Well, if you don’t fancy smackin’ ole Ruddle in the chops to improve ’is looks, p’raps you’d like to pound up those hotroots fer the soup.’
Using the head of his mace the badger pulped the roots to shreds. Folrig tossed them into the cauldron along with some dried watershrimp, young nettles, mushrooms and carrots.
They sat round the fire until the soup was ready, when Ruddle served it steaming hot with chunks of barley bread. The taste was delicious, though the spiciness almost took the badger’s breath away. Hurriedly he poured a beakerful of squash down his burning throat. ‘Phwooh! I feel as though I’m on fire, what soup is that?’
Folrig began singing.
‘When I was just a liddle beast,
I was so small an’ weak,
I’d often fall flat on me tail,
An’ I could ’ardly speak.
I scarce could totter round the floor,
Me whiskers used to droop,
’Til granma made a great big pot
Of good ole hotroot soup!
An’ now I’m brisker than a bee,
More fitter than a mole,
Most every day I ’ear granma say,
“Give ’im another bowl!”
I’ll live a thousand seasons,
Grow strong as any tree,
Give me a spoon an’ fetch it soon,
Good hotroot soup for me.’
As the evening wore on Sunflash began to enjoy the tangy dish, in fact he ate more than either of his two friends. They sang and recited, ate and drank until all three fell asleep where they sat, around the glowing embers, with the soothing sounds of the falls in the background.
* * *
13
Sunflash did not know whether it was night or day when he woke. Folrig had put more wood upon the embers and blown a fresh fire into light. The badger yawned, stretched and took a mighty draught of squash from the gourd jug.
For the first time he noticed an opening at the back of the cave. ‘Ruddle, where does that lead to? Is it a backway out?’ he asked.
The otter licked a paw and held it up. ‘It used t’be, messma
te; feel that breeze, keeps the cave nice’n’fresh when the wind’s blowin’ in the right direction. Aye, ’twas once our secret way out, until a boulder shifted in the meltin’ snows an’ blocked it. But a little draught still comes through when it blows southerly.’
Whilst the two otters prepared breakfast Sunflash went to investigate the secret exit. Sure enough, a sizeable boulder had blocked it, and all that showed through were a few small cracks of sunlight from outside. The badger worked at clearing the rocks and debris which had lodged round the great stone until Folrig called him. ‘If y’don’t like arrowroot biscuits an’ honey with ’ot mint tea, then stay where y’are, matey, me’n’ole frightface’ll eat ’em for you!’
Sunflash needed no second bidding. He enjoyed a hearty breakfast, while explaining what he had in mind.
‘Move what bits and pieces you need to the side walls of this cave – I’m going to unblock your secret backway. I’ll push the boulder into the cave from the outside – and when you hear the boulder shifting you’d best stay clear of this place. Better yet, come and show me the backway from outside.’
The two otters followed him, scoffing and chortling at the idea that any creature could clear the obstruction.
‘Nobeast’ll budge that ole boulder, it’s there to stay. We both worked at it right through the spring with nary a scrap of luck, ’tis wedged there for good, Sunflash.’
‘If anybeast livin’ could move yonder stone, why, we’d give ’im a mighty feed an’ call ’im ’andsome. Hohohoho!’
From the outside, the backway was a natural tunnel in the rock above the falls. Sunflash climbed in and started pulling out slabs and shards of stone which had become wedged around the boulder. These he passed back to his friends for disposal. Once it was reasonably clear he set his shoulder to the big rock and began to push, grunting and straining as he sought for proper purchase with his footpaws. Folrig and Ruddle sat outside the tunnel, concern evident in their voices.
‘Sunflash, matey, come out o’ there, ’tis no use!’
‘You’ll ’urt yoreself, friend, it ain’t worth it fer a daft ole boulder like that’n!’
The large gold-striped head poked from the tunnel opening and glared at them; warrior blood was beginning to rise in the eyes of Sunflash.
‘Listen, you two ugly mugs, I’d advise you both to shut up! You’re my friends, see – I’ve been guided through the swamps, been cared for, fed and bedded in your home. So now I’m repaying you by clearing this secret way out. Now both of you, sit tight here and not another word!’
Thoroughly chastened, Folrig and Ruddle watched their friend disappear back into the tunnel.
Setting his back full against the boulder, Sunflash lodged his paws into the walls either side of him, his footpaws flat on the stone floor as he began to push. Muscles bunching and sinews strained, he concentrated all his mind on defeating the mighty boulder jammed squarely into the passage. The powerful jaws clenched vicelike and froth bubbled around his lips as he strained, veins bulging and claws scarring deep into the rock walls.
There was a slight creak, and dust powdered from the boulder edges to mingle with the sweat dripping from Sunflash’s muzzle. Straining and pushing even harder the badger shut his eyes tight, as a red mist enveloped his senses. Then the four badgers were with him in spirit, his father, mother and both grandsires, speaking as in one echoing voice.
‘Through wintercold and summerheat,
The Badger Lord knows not defeat!
Point of spear or blade of sword,
Nought can stop the Badger Lord!’
A thunderous battle cry ripped from the very depths of the badger’s cavernous chest and blood coursed through his frame in a torrent as he slammed his back into the boulder.
‘Eeulaliaaaaaaa!’
The huge stone rolled forward, free of its constraints. Lying stretched upon his back, Sunflash opened his eyes and watched as the boulder rumbled off down the passageway. Picking up speed on the slope it boomed its way through the cavern, swerving around the corner of the otters’ dwelling and crashing into the cascading curtain of the waterfall. Folrig and Ruddle had heard the commotion; they dashed to the edge of the rocks, following the course of the noise.
‘Blisterin’ barnacles, mate. Look!’
The boulder came catapulting out of the cataract’s centre to crash into the stream below with a terrific splash. Folrig and Ruddle danced about wildly on the rock’s edge.
‘Hohoho, bucko, Sunflash did it, I told yer he would!’
‘On me oath, messmate, I never doubted ’e would!’
Sunflash cleansed himself of the dust and perspiration by taking a final refreshing shower beneath the green-gold, sunlight-laced waters of the falls. When he had washed he stretched out to dry on the grassy banks of the stream below. Folrig and Ruddle bounded up, both carrying travelling staves and bearing three haversacks of food.
The badger sat up and shook himself. ‘Hmm, and where do you two frogs’ nightmares think you’re off to, if I may make so bold to ask?’
Ruddle answered for them both. ‘With you, of course. O good-lookin’ one.’
Sunflash picked up his mace and one of the haversacks. ‘Huh! That’s what you think – I’m not having two mudfaces like you pair following me about and scaring off the birds.’
Folrig shouldered his haversack, grinning. ‘Belay that talk, butterstripe, we’re bound to go with you. You wear the sign of Firjak’s Oakden; we must follow it.’
Sunflash remembered the greenstone sycamore leaf talisman given to him by Elmjak which still hung about his neck. The resolute expressions on his friends’ faces told him that argument was useless. As they tramped southward he took the greenstone symbol in his paw and inspected it, musing, ‘This must be a very powerful omen. Elmjak told me that all squirrels and otters would aid me if I wore it. But why?’
As they pressed deeper into dry heavily wooded forestland Folrig explained the significance of Firjak’s talisman. ‘One time o’ day the squirrels an’ otters in these parts kept themselves to themselves, never botherin’ with each other. Except for two liddle uns. They were, Firjak, son of the Squirrelqueen, an’ Bankrose, daughter of a great Skipper of Otters. These two were great liddle pals, they played t’gether often. But one day they was both taken by searats, captured an’ marched off, far from these woods. Well, Firjak, he bit through ’is bonds an’ escaped, then the liddle feller followed the rats, an’ one night while they slept ’e slew two sentries an’ liberated Bankrose. Firjak was wounded in the scuffle, an’ even though ’e was but no more’n a babe, ’e carried Bankrose up into a big ole sycamore an’ kept those rats at bay with a tiny sling an’ some pebbles until a trackin’ party of otters’n’squirrels arrived an’ rescued ’em both. Young Firjak was sore wounded, down to ’is last pebble too, a big flat green one, too large t’fit the sling. That’s the one yore wearin’ round yore neck, matey – the Skipper of Otters carved it to look like a sycamore leaf. After that the squirrel an’ otterfolk became allies. So now y’know why anybeast wearin’ that leafstone commands the respect an’ loyalty of all otters an’ squirrels.’
Sunflash looked at the talisman with new respect. ‘A tale of great courage. What happened to Firjak?’
‘Oh, Firjak recovered, but ’is footpaw was so lamed they say ’e rarely climbed a tree after that. Learned to swim ’e did, somebeasts say ’e was more otter than squirrel in the finish.’
Sunflash was curious about the capture of Firjak and Bankrose. ‘You say they were taken by searats. I never knew that searats came this far inland.’
Ruddle pointed westward, saying, ‘What d’you mean, we ain’t that far inland, the great waters are only a few days over yonder.’
‘Then that’s the way we’ll go,’ said Sunflash, changing his course. ‘Once I reach the sea I’m sure I’ll only have to keep travelling south. Come on, you beauties!’
Folrig seemed rather hesitant. ‘Er, it wouldn’t be advisable to set a course that way
, mate, searats an’ Corsairs ’ang about the coast like ants in honey.’
Sunflash kept walking, calling back to Folrig, ‘If a squirrelbabe could defeat the searats they shouldn’t be too tough for us. Besides, you two could panic them with your faces. Hahaha!’
The following two days passed uneventfully; the going was not too difficult, the weather fine, and food plentiful. Towards evening of the second day the travellers found themselves scaling some very steep wooded hills, each one seemingly higher than the last. Amid the stunted trees and shrubs of the final rocky tor, Sunflash called a halt. In the last rays of daylight he noticed a faint westerly gleam on the horizon.
‘Aha, it’s the sea at last, my pretty ones!’ he cried.
Ruddle was still panting as he lit a small sheltered fire. ‘Well ain’t that nice, clamberin’ up all them ’ills so ole stripey ’ooter can see the water!’
‘Huh, ’ills y’say, matey, if they was ’ills I’m an owl’s uncle,’ said Folrig, unpacking supper from the haversacks. ‘It’s mountains we’ve been climbin’, bucko, an’ none bigger’n the one we’re atop of right now!’
Sunflash chuckled at his two companions. ‘Well at least we don’t have to climb any higher, it’ll be all downhill tomorrow, or should I say down mountain. Come on, you two frogfaces, dig out those turnip’n’mushroom pasties.’
Supper was laid on green twigs to warm over the fire. Ruddle dribbled honey onto three thick fruitcake slices, whilst Sunflash poured out beakers of cold cider.
They lay about round the fire eating supper, enjoying the faint breeze. Folrig winked coaxingly at Ruddle. ‘I votes you take first watch, matey, yore the ugliest.’
Outcast Of Redwall Page 9
