The smoothsnake slithered down from Korvus’s head to confront Frang. She glared icily at him. “Foolsssss, you could not catch one earthcrawler between you. Idiotsssss!”
Frang, who had been in charge of the mission, was not afraid of Sicariss. He cocked his head scornfully at the serpent. “Yaaaark! Your Snakewytes did nought to help us. They won’t get back here until evening, slow, useless worms!”
Sicariss reared up as if she was preparing to strike the raven. Frang did a warlike hop, flexing his talons. Korvus Skurr swooped down between them, wings spread.
“Rakkacharr! Fighting amongst ourselves will get nought done. Six of you went to the Redstone house, but I see only five returned here. Where is our brother Tarul?”
Murig, the injured raven, attempted to rise, but he flopped back awkwardly, head drooping, eyes clouding over. “Kaah! Tarul stayed….” Murig got no further. In his fall to the ground he had landed on the protruding metal shaft. A feeble rattle issued from his beak. He lay dead.
Korvus hurried to his side, prodding at him with his powerful beak. “Garrah! What of Tarul, where is he? Speak!”
Sicariss began coiling around the tyrant bird’s head, hissing, “Murig will sssspeak no more. He goesss to meet Welzzzzzz!”
Korvus Skurr shook the snake from his head with a quick, angry jerk, berating her stridently. “Harrrakah! No brother of Skurr will be eaten by that monster. We will feed Welzz your slow worms when they return. I have spoken!” Folding his wings, and puffing out his chest, the tyrant swaggered up to his perch above the pool.
Sicariss followed him, appeasing her host as she slithered back up to the crown position. “Your word issss law, the voice of Korvussss Ssskurr mussst be obeyed in all thingsssss!”
Korvus turned his beaded eyes upon Frang. “Yarrr! What became of Tarul?”
Frang explained, “Harrah, he is hidden inside the Redstone house, your mission did not fail.”
Preening his feathers, the tyrant raven spoke to Sicariss. “Kraaah! You see, my Wytes serve me well. This is good. You will speak with the Welzz, find out what the omens say.”
Korvus Skurr may have thought that he was ruler absolute of his sinister world, but it was the smoothsnake who was the one that dictated most of the policies. Sicariss was a mistress of intrigue, she bent Skurr to her will by preying on his vanity, his greed and most of all upon his superstitious nature. Sicariss would stay out of reach of the monster catfish, hovering over the pool, as if listening and conversing with Welzz. The fish would swim up from the depths. Whenever Sicariss appeared, it usually meant feeding time. It would wait there, visible to onlookers, the wide, ugly, barbeled mouth opening and closing constantly. Korvus believed that it was the spirit of his underworld realm, and that it spoke to him through Sicariss. Secretly, the raven was afraid of Welzz. Once anything, living or dead, went into the pool, it was devoured in the most revolting way.
Korvus closed his eyes, pretending to doze, as Sicariss communicated with the giant fish. The smoothsnake knew of the raven’s fear, feeling through her coils the tension beneath his luxuriant plumage. Accordingly, she prolonged the supposed interview, until she heard Korvus murmur impatiently. “Krraaah, what does he say? Tell me!”
Sicariss made her report, knowing that Korvus would accept that it came from Welzz. If the snake felt he was going to be disagreeable about things, she could back up the demands with warnings, dire threats and predictions of doom. Sicariss contracted her coils lightly about the raven’s head, indicating that she was ready to transmit the wisdom of Welzz. Back on his perch, Korvus dismissed all within hearing. He listened intently to the snake’s sibilant whisperings. The four remaining raven brothers, and a few carrion crows who waited in attendance, withdrew to the far side of the cold, gloomy cave. Perched upon the ledges, they watched the ill-matched couple. At times they hissed and cawed violently, whilst at other intervals their heads were close together, as if in agreement.
It was a long time before they were finished conferring. Korvus Skurr signalled to Veeku, leader of the carrion crows. He hopskipped across the cave floor, with a quick, bouncy gait. Veeku paid heed to his instructions, then winged off to the sulphured atmosphere of the main cavern, in preparation for the announcement.
Noon shadows were starting to lengthen in the sunny day outside, when the three slow worms arrived back. They were ushered into the big cave by an escort of choughs and jackdaws. The trio of reptiles coiled together at the edge of the steaming lake. Hemmed in by their guards, they instinctively knew trouble was brewing for them when the drums began rumbling. However, they stayed passive, knowing there was no escape from the judgement which was about to descend upon them.
The drumbeats rose in volume and tempo until the high cave, with its noxious, decaying odours and slime-encrusted walls, echoed with their intensity. Every bird and reptile gathered around the boiling, sulphurous lake, chattering, hissing and cawing.
“Warrahaarr! Attend ye the Mighty Korvus Skurr and his crown, Sicariss!”
The drums stopped, and the chatter died immediately. Birds and reptiles stood in frozen silence, staring toward the centre of the mist-shrouded lake.
Boom!
As the echo of the single drumbeat died, the tyrant raven and his smoothsnake appeared. They seemed to float in the mist which surrounded the base of the eyeless, ancient likenesses of themselves.
The cave’s inhabitants chanted, “Rakaah Skurr! Rakaah Skurr! Sicarissssss! Rakaah!”
Veeku launched into his pronouncement. “One of our Wytes has been slain, by the earthcrawlers of the Redstone house….” An audible moan ran through the listeners, then the carrion leader continued, “Great Lord of Doomwytes, the Mighty Korvus Skurr has commanded that there will be a new flame in the woodlands tonight.” Veeku raised his beak toward the vast, high ceiling. “Go to your Master and receive the Mark of the Wyte!”
A young raven, quick of eye and fleet of wing, swooped down from the gloomy recesses. He landed on the central island, in front of Korvus Skurr. Carved in the base of the Doomwyte statue was a shallow basin; it glowed with the strange light of some liquid which floated in it. Sicariss whispered an instruction to the young raven. Holding forth his right wing, he dipped it into the basin, holding it in the glowing fluid whilst the snake chanted.
“Thissss isss the Mark of the Wyte,
thisssss issss the light of the Wyte,
if the light ever diesss or fadesss
that isss the end of your daysssss!”
The young bird stayed with his right wingtip immersed in the liquid, until a nod from the serpent bade him remove it. Korvus Skurr spoke then.
“Harraaak! There are always seven Raven Wytes, you are one of us now. Gaze into the eyes of Sicariss!”
The smoothsnake moved like lightning, wrapping her coils around the initiate’s neck, drawing him close, so that her eyes were but a fraction from his. Sicariss stared intently into the newcomer’s eyes, holding him there until he appeared to go limp. Korvus bowed, pausing until Sicariss had resumed crown position on his head, then he spoke again.
“Yarraaak! Will you live to serve the Doomwyte? Will you die in its service? Will you slay at the will of the Great Doomwyte?”
The young raven’s gaze was fixed on the stone idol. He croaked tonelessly, “I live, I die, I slay, for the Doomwyte!”
Now Korvus turned his attention to the three slow worms, who lay at the lake’s edge, guarded on all sides. The tyrant’s voice was harsh. “Yakkaaarraa! These worms left one of my Wytes to die in the Redstone house. They disobeyed the command of their Master. One of them will get to meet Welzz. The choice is yours, my brother.”
Hissing wildly, the three slow worms coiled about one another, intertwining at the lake’s edge. The new Wyte flew at them, seizing the head of one in his cruel talons. The victim’s strength was not a fraction of the raven’s; with a savage wrench he tore it clear of its companions. The slow worm writhed helplessly as the Wyte soared off to the smaller cave,
amidst a loud cawing and hissing of applause from the onlookers. The two remaining slow worms tried to wriggle off, until Veeku clacked his beak at the guards.
“Heekaah, into the lake with them!”
The carrion birds pounced upon the unfortunate slow worms gleefully. There was no love lost between them and the reptiles, whom they considered the lower orders in their caverns. Sicariss watched the two former reptile Wytes writhing in agony as they sank into the boiling waters. She looked down from her head perch, expressing her disapproval to the tyrant raven.
“There wassss no need to ssssslay all three wormsss, one wassss enough. Now we have lossst three more Wytessss.”
But Korvus was unrepentant, and determined to assert his authority. “Hakkah! Who needs worms? If we are to bring back the times of our greatness, the eyes must be returned to the Doomwyte. Have ye not said so yourself, many times?
“We cannot defeat the creatures of the Redstone house in battle, they are secured within their fortress. Stealth and skill are not enough, fear is needed now. Once fear is instilled into the mind, defeat is certain to follow. Fear is the most powerful of all weapons!”
Sicariss tried bringing her influence to bear on the Doomwyte Ruler. “I have many snakesss, sssslow worms, grassss snakessss, even sssmoothsnakessss, ssssuch assss me. Snakessss can be fear itsssself, Mighty One.”
Korvus shook Sicariss roughly from her perch to the ground. “Yaaaaaark! Only my ravens can be trusted to re-gain the Doomwyte Eyes. No more reptiles, toads, lizards or snakes….” Here he paused, then spoke out as though struck by a sudden inspiration. “Except one particular snake.”
Assuming that Korvus was speaking of her, Sicariss hissed gratefully, “Your word issss my command, Mighty One, you will not regret choosssing Sicarissss!”
The big raven clacked his beak dismissively. “Kachah! Who needs you, I was speaking of Baliss!”
Sicariss recoiled in horror at the dreaded name. “Balissss! What would you want with that monsssster?”
The raven’s dark eyes glinted wickedly. “Haaaark! Who better to bring fear to the Redstone house than Baliss the Evil One? Go, bring him to me!”
Outside the caverns, from a vantage point on the wooded hillside, the dark beast sat watching the scene below as evening descended.
Griv the magpie and her mate Inchig flew slowly, close to the ground. They followed the sluggish progress of three reptiles, two grass snakes and a fat toad. Griv had learned all the gossip amongst birds and reptiles concerning the mission, but Inchig had not. As they perched in a woodland clearing, waiting for the reptiles to pass, Inchig was full of curiosity.
“Aaakh! Why are we going to the old quarry?”
Griv pecked at a passing ant. “They are going to see Baliss the Slayer. We are only going to see that they obey orders.”
Inchig seemed to shrink close to the grass. “Baliss? Yarrak, I’m not going near that monster!”
Griv moved aside to let the reptiles pass. “Garrah! We don’t have to, all we do is watch. Otherwise I’d have just flown south, and kept on flying. They say that Baliss is ancient, and blind, but still the most dangerous adder in the land. I heard Sicariss say that the blood of the great Asmodeus runs in his veins.”
Inchig ruffled his plumes as he shuddered. “Kuurrrh! Who will dare speak to such a mighty serpent?”
Griv devoured another ant, nodding after the reptiles. “The grass snakes, I suppose.” She sniggered wickedly. “The toad is nothing but a food offering.”
10
Frintl, the young hog, had already crept out of Cavern Hole for a quick outing. She was about to pop out of the main door, when Skipper Rorgus, coming in from the orchard, caught her. He sent the young hogmaid back to Cavern Hole, where she would have to wait with the others until the breakfast bell sounded. Frintl went back, but only after she had gossiped with a few of the kitchen helpers.
Dwink roused himself from the mossy ledge, which he and Bisky had occupied overnight. He yawned, gazing around at the Dibbuns and young ones, most of whom were still asleep in the quiet warmth. Frintl was chuckling to herself as she stole back into the temporary dormitory. Dwink’s voice startled her. “Where’ve you been, missy?”
Picking up her blanket, Frintl began folding it. “Oh, I just went outdoors for a stroll, it’s a lovely mornin’, nice ’n’bright.”
Umfry Spikkle entered; rubbing his eyes, he smiled dozily at the hogmaid. “G’mornin’, Frintl.”
She pursed her lips primly. “Not for you it ain’t, Master Spikkle. Father Abbot wants t’see you, an’ not after brekkist, but soon as yore up an’ about. Sister Violet jus’ told me!”
Umfry sat back, nursing his head in both paws. “Spikes’n’Spikkles, suppose I’m in for h’it!”
Bisky hopped down from the ledge, bringing Dwink with him. “Never mind, mate, we’ll go along with ye, an’ put in a good word, if’n we get the chance.”
Abbot Glisam had decided to see Umfry out in the orchard. The gorgeous spring morn and the bright, blossoming trees did little to allay his dismay. Glisam turned to the group of elders who had joined him, shaking his head sadly. “Oh dear, I detest having to sit in judgement on others, especially young uns. I don’t like it at all.”
Umfry’s grandsire, Corksnout Spikkle, sat down on an upturned barrow. “Yore too soft-’earted, Father, best leave this t’me. I was supposed to see the young rip down in my cellars earlier on, but young Frintl said he was sleepin’ sound. So if ye’ll allow me I’ll have a stern word with ’im.”
Glisam smiled gratefully. “Thank you, sir, I’m obliged.”
Brother Torilis sniffed, issuing a disapproving sound. “Hmph!”
The Laird Bosie, who was also in attendance, held out a spotless, scented kerchief. “Here, mah friend, blow yore snout if’n ye’ve got the sniffles.” He watched Torilis stalk off stiffly, then winked at Glisam. “Och, was it somethin’ that Ah said?”
Umfry plodded into the orchard, flanked by Bisky and Dwink. He bowed to the Abbot, who pointed to Corksnout.
“I think it’s your grandfather who wants to hear what you’ve got to say for yourself, young un.”
Corksnout glared at Umfry. “Well?”
Dwink immediately spoke out. “It was my fault, I said that he could sleep in our dormitory last night, ’cos of how bad the weather was. It’s a long walk t’that Gate’ouse through all the wind an’ rain…an’ all that….”
His voice trailed off, so Bisky cut in. “I told him to stay indoors, too, sir, he might’ve caught a cold an’ the sniffles, y’see.”
Corksnout’s gaze moved from one to the other. “I ain’t speakin’ to either of you two. So, young Umfry, wot’s yore excuse for leavin’ the main outer gate open an’ unguarded last night, eh?”
Umfry shuffled his footpaws, mumbling, “The gate was shut an’ barred when h’I left it, sir.”
Samolus added, “He’s prob’ly right, it must’ve been the intruders that opened it.”
Umfry took a grip of himself. Standing up straight, he spoke out loud and clear. “Maybe h’it was, but that’s no h’excuse, ’tis my job h’as Gatekeeper to guard that gate. Well, h’I didn’t. So h’I’ll ’ave to h’ask ye to h’accept me h’ apologies, ’twon’t ’appen again, sir!”
Foremole Gullub Gurrpaw nodded approvingly. “Hurr, well spaken, zurr, wot do ee says, Corkie?”
The burly Cellarhog stroked his chin. “Well said right enough, but something, ’as t’be done about it, so this is my judgement. Umfry, yore relieved of gatekeepin’ duties ’til I says. As a punishment, ye can clean the cellars out, from top to bottom. Sweep, ’em until there ain’t a sign o‘ dust nor cobweb anywhere. All the stock must be restacked, every barrel, keg, puncheon, cask an’ firkin, neat’n’tidy. Dwink an’ Bisky, you confess to encouragin’ Umfry to desert his post?”
Both the young creatures stood to attention. “Aye, sir, we did!”
Corksnout nodded grimly, then adjusted his nose, which had slid into his m
outh. “Right, then you can ’elp Umfry with the task!”
Abbot Glisam sighed with relief. “Well, that’s that! But who’ll mind the gate?”
Foremole Gullub raised a huge digging claw. “Hurr hurr, that’ll be Oi, zurr, ee gurt bed in yon gatey’ouse bees the mostest cummfibble wun Oi ever see’d in moi loife.”
A smile played around the Father Abbot’s lips. “As long as you don’t neglect your duties by snoring all day in it. Permission granted!”
Dwink twirled his bushy tail. “When do we start our job?”
Corksnout stood up from the barrow, fixing the trio with a severe stare. “How about right now this instant!”
Umfry’s jaw dropped. “But wot about brekkist?”
Gullub beckoned toward the Abbey. “Cumm ee with Oi, may’ap ee Froir wull make you’m up ee packed vikkles.”
Samolus watched them trotting off happily. “There goes three good young uns, proper friends!”
Bosie waggled his ears. “Aye, ye ken the way they helped each other oot? Och there’s nae much wrong wi’ them!”
Friar Skurpul greeted the friends at the kitchen doorway. “Goo’day, likkle zurrs, you’m cummed to ’elp Oi at ee ovens furr awhoil?”
Foremole Gullub came trundling in behind them. “Hurr, Oi’m afeared they’m b’aint a-worken at ovens t’day, Froir. Thurr bees tarsks furr ’em a-cleanen owt ee cellars. Straightaways, too, an’ they’m b’aint havved a taste o’ brekkfust yet.”
The kindly Friar ladled out three beakers from a cauldron. “Yurr now, set ee doawn an sup moi leekybean soup, whoilst Oi pack summat furr you’m pore stummicks!”
Foremole Gullub helped himself to a tankard of the savoury soup, and a small crusty loaf. He waved to them as he left the kitchen. “Goo’bye, Oi’m off t’moi Gatey’ouse. Hurr hurr, you uns have fun in ee cellars!”
The cellars at Redwall Abbey were ancient, and widespread. Bisky placed the big food parcel, which the Friar had made up, on a barreltop table. He smiled ruefully. “There’s enough cleanin’ work down here to keep us busy for a season or two, I think!”
Doomwyte (Redwall) Page 9
