Mariel Of Redwall Part 17

Dandin was awake. He lay with his eyes closed as he interpreted. "I think his name is Snidjer and he wants to know where we're from."

Snidjer giggled. "Heehee, smarteemouse dis'n-a smarteemouse!"

Durry was last to wake. He strained forward, trying to reach his head with bound paws. "Gwaw! My poor skull. This shouldn't happen to a good young lad like me. I think it was that scent which knocked us out. Oh, nunky, help! Send those 'orrible beasts away!"

Snidjer and his tribe giggled as they danced around the tree in front of their victims. Dandin watched them closely, trying to figure out what sort of creatures they were under the barkcloth facewraps and body hangings of thick weed.

"Tarquin, who are they? Have you ever seen anything like them before?"

"I should jolly well hope not, old boy. What a dreadful load of idiots-can't even talk properly. Rosie'd have a word or two to say to 'em about their sad lack of elocution, believe me!"

Snidjer pranced up to Tarquin, waving a torch made of smoldering herbs under his nose. The hare was not well-pleased.

"Pooh, take it away, you rascal. It's that beastly scent again."

Snidjer giggled. "Sleepasleep, sleepasleep, yerrher-raherrherr!"

Mariel groaned aloud. "So that was what the poem meant about my nose sending me to sleep. It's those smoldering herbs; they must be full of a sort of sleep drug. 'Buried ones will surely rise . . . ' Ha! I remember that bit. Just before I was knocked out by that smell, I 190.

dimly remember seeing those creatures coming out of the ground, though how they did it I don't know. Wh-where's my Gullwhacker? Oh, I wish my head would stop aching."

Snidjer wriggled with delight, the loose weeds quivering all over him. "Wannasee how we do it, clever-mouse? Wannasee 'ey? D'Flitchaye cleverer than you a bigbit, yousee."

The weird creature stamped his paw several times upon the ground. Mariel watched, her eyes wide with amazement. All around the earth, clumps of weed and gra.s.s lifted like rough lids as more of the peculiar creatures came out of hiding from their subterranean pits. In a short time the area was thick with bark-masked, weed-clad beasts. They shuffled about, chanting in their high-pitched voices: "We d'Flitchaye Flitchaye Flitchaye!"

Dandin struggled against his bonds as he roared aloud, "Hey, come away from that stuff. It's ours!"

Snidjer was waving Martin's sword about as his tribe emptied the contents of the travelers' packs onto the ground, fighting and grabbing for the food and drink. One of them swung Gullwhacker close to Dandin's head.

"Nahh sh'rup, you'n's Flitchaye pris'ners!"

Tarquin gulped against the rope that circled his neck. " 'S'no use, old lad. Stiff upper lip an' ignore the blighters-we're outnumbered at least ten to one. I say, what's the next bit of the jolly old rhyme? Maybe that'll help us, wot?"

Dandin promptly reeled off the required stanza.

"Beat the hollow oak and shout, 'We are the creatures of Redwall!' If a brave one is about, he'll save any fool at all.

That's it as best as I recall. Let's look about for this hollow oak to beat, then we can start shouting."

191.

Durry blinked painfully as he tried to focus his eyes. "Phwaw! I'm lookin', though outside o' this clearin' I can't see nothin' but trees. My ol' nuncle Gabe'd say it were like lookin' fer timber in a woodland."

By now the supplies had either been eaten or squashed into the ground, though one or two of the creatures were still squabbling over flasks of cider and cordial. Snidjer swung the sword at an overhanging bough. He missed and landed himself flat upon his back. The Flitchaye chief lay sn.i.g.g.e.ring as three smaller ones thrummed roughly away at Tarquin's beloved har-olina. The hare fought against his tight bonds, crying out against the outrage.

"I say, put that instrument down! You're an absolute bunch of yahoos, d'ye hear me? Yahoos and hooligans!"

Concealing her voice beneath the surrounding hubbub, Mariel whispered to Dandin, "I'm working my paws loose. It shouldn't take long. The moment I'm free we'll have to see if we can grab our weapons and hold this lot off until we find the hollow oak."

"Hollow oak, old gel," Tarquin chuckled. "No need to look any further, we're tied to the bally thing!"

Durry groaned aloud. "An' I could've saved my poor eyes all that lookin' an' searchin'. 'T'aint fair."

Dandin glanced upward. "Hmm, so we are," he whispered back. "Right, when Mariel's loose we'll untie each other quietly. If we can reach our weapons, all well and good; if we can't, then the best plan would be to surround Tarquin and keep him protected while he beats the oak. Those long legs of yours should come in very handy for that, Tarquin. Er, Durry, what is it that we all have to shout out?"

"We are creatures of Redwall, good an' loud!"

Snidjer and the Flitchaye who was holding Gullwhacker hurried across to the prisoners. Snidjer carried the sword and some smoldering herbs. He glanced at them suspiciously.

192.

"Worrayou talkabout, 'ey?"

Tarquin sniffed. "Actually, old bean, we were just remarking on what a vile smelly load of old forest weeds you bods are."

Snidjer's eyes glinted angrily and he waved the smoking herbs under Tarquin's nose. "You sh'rup, y'hear, sh'rup or Flitchaye send you sleepasleep s'more."

The hare coughed violently, his eyes watering as the Flitchaye chief held the reeking herbs closer. Suddenly Tarquin shot out both his long legs. Bound together as they were, the powerful limbs caught Snidjer a mighty kick that sent him head over heels.

Mariel freed her paws and unknotted the rope that held them to the oak and unbound Dandin's paws. With their backs to the dead oak the four companions faced the howling mob of Flitchaye creatures. Mariel tugged Durry's paws loose as Dandin untied Tarquin. Snidjer leaped up, quivering with fury as he waved the sword menacingly.

"Hawhaw y'done it now, cleverbeasts. D'Flitchaye killyer now, killyer good 'n' dead. Gerrem, Flitchaye, gerrem!"

Again the mousemaid remembered attacking Gabool with the sword when her life was threatened. This time it was not only her, but also three good friends who were in danger of being slain.

Mariel felt the old Storm rise within her. Grabbing the ropes that had bound them, she knotted the ends and pa.s.sed them to Dandin and Durry.

"These will have to do as Gullwhackers. Get thumping, Tarquin!"

The hare needed no second bidding. He pounded his long hindlegs against the hollow trunk, raising his voice to join the others: "We are creatures of Redwall! We are creatures of Redwaaaaalll!"

The first wave of the Flitchaye mob struck them, 193.

armed with sticks and small daggers. Mariel and her comrades thwacked away at them with their knotted ropes for all they were worth. Most of the Flitchaye were repulsed, some knocked senseless, whilst others, half-conscious, clung onto the bodies of their attackers.

Snidjer stayed well back, swinging the sword as he urged a fresh wave of attackers to the fray. "Gerremall, Flitchaye. Grabbem, holdem-I cut'm up wid dis sworder!"

Durry Quill went down, felled by a heavy blow. Dandin and Mariel stood shoulder to shoulder, swinging their knotted ropes. Tarquin lay on his back, pounding the oak with his hindpaws while he lashed out at the enemy with his front paws, joining voice with his companions: "We are creatures of Redwall! We are creatures of Redwaaaaalll!"

They were struggling against the odds, more so when Snidjer gathered a fresh batch of Flitchaye about him and headed the charge at his weakened opponents.

"D'cleverbeasts fallin' now. Gerrem, Flitchaye!"

Mariel and Dandin went down beneath the ma.s.ses of weedclad bodies, still shouting as they were submerged beneath the Flitchaye mob: "We are creatures of Redwaaaalll!"

Thick white fog enveloped both sea and sh.o.r.e as if the very clouds had dropped out of the sky. Sound was muted and nowhere was there vision or sight for more than a paw's length. Rawnblade Widestripe chuckled grimly to himself as he donned the long spiked helmet he always wore with his battle armor. Salamandastron was deserted; he had sent out all his hares to patrol on one pretext or another, some to the south, others to the east. The great badger Lord pulled down the helmet visor, focusing happily through the twin slits. Rawn-blade's eyes should have been tired, but they were not. He had lain awake most of the night, listening to the 194.

m.u.f.fled silence fog brought in its wake, restless, turning. Rawnblade had finally left his beloved mountain to stroll on the tideline along the sh.o.r.e by Salamandastron.

That was when he had heard it.

The sickening crunch of ship's timbers upon rock was unmistakable.

00.

The searat Captain Orgeye was below sleeping when he was thrown forcibly from his bunk onto the cabin floor. Shouts from the Waveblade's two lookouts brought him scrambling up on deck.

"Belay, we've run aground in this cursed fog!"

"h.e.l.l's teeth! She's run bow-on to a reef!"

Rawnblade had strained his ears to catch the shouts from the Waveblade.

"Cap'n Orgeye, what'll we do?"

"Bilgesc.u.m! You've been sleepin' on watch. If she breaks her keel on these blasted rocks, I'll rip out yer livers. Get over the side onto the reef an' see how she looks. Move yerselves!"

"Cap'n, she's nose-up on the stones, holed near the waterline an' trapped tighter than meat between yer teeth. What do we do?"

"What can we do, slophead? There's naught for it but to wait till this fog clears. May'aps we can beach her for repairs then."

Rawnblade expanded his ma.s.sive chest, letting out a great sigh of pure joy at the memory of his night stroll. It was not often the big badger got a shipload of searats delivered to his doorstep. That was why he had sent his hares away. The Lord of Salamandastron wanted this one all to himself. Picking up his formidable broadsword, he swung it easily across his shoulders and strode silently back to the tideline. Standing with waves lapping his studded leg greaves, Rawnblade Widestripe resembled a great carved statue set at the edge of the 195.

sea. Fog swirled about his armored body as he listened to the sounds of the cursing searats, who were waiting for the fog to lift.

So was Rawnblade.

He remembered the dead bodies of his three hares swaying in the shallows of the tideline, the work of searats. A huge rumble of satisfaction welled up in his throat as he antic.i.p.ated loosing his wrathful battle-sword upon Orgeye and the Waveblade's crew.

c/o Colonel Clary notched an arrow to his bow, and the other two members of the long patrol followed his example. The fog had thinned to a milky river mist in the creek where the Darkqueen lay crippled. Clary's ears stood straight up as he listened to the noise of the Darkqueen's crew. They were crashing heedlessly through bush and shrub, careless and noisy, as they made their way back to the ship.

Ringtail was first to spot the Darkqueen's masts amid the forest greenery. He dashed forward with the light mist swirling about him.

"Ahoy, mates. There she lies. The DarkqueenY'

Even as the rest of the crew dashed forward, they saw Ringtail fall with a gurgle, an arrow through his neck.

"Down! Get down. The ship's been boarded!" roared Bigfang.

The searats obeyed, dropping down instantly behind trees and bushes.

Ranzo lay alongside Bigfang, pale with fright. "Ringtail's been done for. Who killed him?"

Bigfang peered through the mist-shrouded trees. "I don't know, mate, but I'll soon find out. 'Ere, bring up them oarslaves."

Brigadier Thyme raised himself from the heeling deck to obtain a better shot at the foebeast. He groaned aloud and sat down again.

"Oh, dash it, look what they're up to now!"

196.

Clary and Hon Rosie stood up in dismay. Bigfang was approaching with the rest of the searats, and they were using Pakatugg and the wretched oarslaves as a shield in front of them. They stood in a bunch at the woodland fringe on the creek bank.

Hon Rosie relaxed her bowstring. "Golly gosh, I say, that sort of thing's not on, you know. Hey there, you bunch of moldy old cowards. Come out an' fight, beast to beast."

Bigfang prodded Pakatugg with his cutla.s.s. "Moldy ol' cowards is better than foolish dead heroes, rabbit. Now what d'ye say we parley a bit eh?"

Clary twitched his whiskers firmly. "We don't parley with the likes of you, bottlenose."

"Bottlenose yerself, rabbit!" Bigfang s.n.a.t.c.hed a spear from Kybo and hurled it. The spear landed with a quivering thud, pinning Clary's paw to the Darkqueen's side. Immediately, Rosie and Thyme took a chance; shooting slightly upward, they sent their arrows over the tops of the oarslaves' heads, wounding Frink and slaying a searat named Reekhide.

The searats broke and ran for the cover of the bushes, dragging the oarslaves with them. Hon Rosie acted swiftly. Tugging the spear free, she pulled Clary into the scuppers.

"Knew they couldn't kill you, you old piewalloper. Are you hurt?"

Clary gritted his teeth, trying hard with one paw to stanch the flow of blood from the other. "Ahem! That feller's not very good at givin' a manicure with a spear, though I think he meant it to be a haircut."

Rosie could see by the tight-drawn expression on Clary's face that he was suffering greatly. She searched her pack for bandages.

"Not to worry, you'll soon be right as rain again, old lad."

Thyme put aside his bow and arrows now the confrontation was over. "Well, chaps, it looks like we're 197.

stuck aboard this tub until Clary's able to use the old paw again, wot?"

Out of sight and earshot of the hares, Bigfang was having trouble with his new command. Kybo had elected himself spokesrat for the rest, and he and Bigfang argued fiercely.

"We should've charged them when I flung that spear!"

"Huh, an' get caught in the water by those two with the bows-not me, matey. Did you see the Darkqueen? They've crippled 'er."

"I could get her seaworthy an' sailin' again,"

"You! All you've done so far, Bigfang, is to get Frink wounded an' Reekhide killed. It was foolish chuckin' that spear. We should've got closer to 'em, then we could've done some real damage."

"Oh aye, an' what would you have done, sc.u.mbags?"

Kybo flung himself on Bigfang. They rolled over and over, grunting and kicking at each other. Bigfang was gaining the upper paw when he tripped and became tangled with the oarslaves. Kybo quickly sat on his adversary's chest. Pulling out a wicked skinning knife, he pressed the blade across Bigfang's throat. The former leader lay still, knowing that Kybo had won.

Kybo retained his position, breathing heavily. "Now you listen to me, addlebrain. I'm speakin' fer all of us, see! The Darkqueen's scuppered-oars, rudder an' steerin' wheel gone, didn't y'see-an' they've heeled her over. She'll sit on the bottom of that creek like a stone in mud. I'm takin' this crew back to Graypatch; that Abbey is the only place where we'll have it safe an' easy. He was right. Now you can come peaceable or die here. What's it t' be?"

Bigfang swallowed, feeling the blade sc.r.a.pe his throat. "You win."

198.

Mother Mellus crept up on Bagg and Runn the otter twins, who were hanging perilously over the north ramparts. She seized each one by an ear and pulled them down as they squeaked piteously.

"Now then, you two young fiends, what are you up to out here, eh?"