Mossflower Part 23

The travelers leaned against a large humped rock to take their noon meal. Martin broke off some bread. "I've got the strangest feeling that we're being watched," he said, chewing as he spoke.

Dinny tapped the rock. "Diggen claw be a-tellen oi that too, Marthen."

Suddenly, behind them, six huge toads bearing the ends of a twisted reed net leaped from the top of the rock. Pa.s.sing right over the travelers' heads, they landed square on the ground, neatly trapping the three friends tightly underneath the net.

One toad poked a trident at them.

"Krryoik glogflugg glumbatt. Catchincaught threehere!"

Tsarmina pushed her party hard into the fastnesses of Moss-flower. She halted frequently to sniff the earth or trace the pawprints in soft ground.

"No mistake, this is them, all right. Look here: my traitor brother, carrying something heavy, by these deep prints. Keep going. Dawn can't be too far off; we'll give those woodland-ers a breakfast they won't forget.''

High in a tree above Tsarmina's force, Barklad the squirrel sat muttering to himself, "Too many heads to count. Looks like most of Kotir has been mobilized to track us down."

He_ vaulted off across the high green terraces to make his report.

Cludd pointed with his spear. "Blood spots, Milady." The wildcat Queen inspected sticky dark red flecks brushed off on the leaves of a lilac bush.

' 'Otter. That must be the one who tricked us into thinking 208.

he was a fox-Patchcoat. He took the arrow that was meant for Gingivere."

Cludd ground his teeth. "Patchcoat, eh? I want that one myself, wounded or not. He's wearing my Captain's cloak."

Tsarmina pushed onward. "Take who you please, but Gingivere's mine. Leave him to me," she ordered.

The soldiers marched forward confidently, made brave by sheer weight of numbers.

Not far from Camp Willow, the ancient gnarled tree that was its namesake bent lithe boughs over the clear flowing river. Beneath its branches the dawn light filtered through onto the party who had gathered round the last resting place of the Mask. Smooth river boulders in a cairn marked the spot; flowers and decorated otter slings were laid on the grave in tribute to a fallen comrade.

Skipper sighed heavily, turning away to join Lady Amber, who was listening to Barklad's report. Cold fury had overtaken the otter leader's grief; at his insistence there would be none but otters to face the oncoming hordes of Kotir. Lady Amber wisely acceded to her friend's wishes, but not before she had outlined a few plans of her own.

"Do what you have to, Skipper, and good luck to you. The whole of Kotir is abroad in Mossflower, so be careful. However, this is an opportunity we must not miss. I have sent messengers to Brockhall. No doubt the Foremole and his crew would welcome a chance to inspect Kotir while the cat's away. I will take my force to make sure they get there and back in safety. Agreed?"

Skipper greased his sling with slippery bark and checked the rows of dangerous-looking otter javelins sticking point down into the bank.

"Agreed!"

Ashleg was first to sight the river, heavily swathed in morning mist from bank to bank.

"We've been here before, Milady," he reminded her. "This is where we lost Gloomer. Surely this isn't where they have their headquarters?''

The Queen of the Thousand Eyes peered into the mists 209.

ahead. "No matter. This is where the trail leads; here is where they'll be. What's that?"

Cludd stood forward brandishing his spear. "It's that otter, Milady. Look, the insolent hound is still wearing my cloak. Let me at him!"

Tsarmina nodded toward the spectral figure that stood wreathed in the mists.

"Get to it, Cludd," she commanded. "Obviously they know we've been following. I'll check around for surprises. We won't be fooled a second time. Oh and Cludd-"

"Yes, Milady?"

"See you finish the job properly, if you want to wear that cloak as a Captain again."

Hefting his spear Cludd advanced on the cloaked figure. "You just leave it to me, Majesty. Right, Patchcoat, let's settle this once and for all," he challenged.

Skipper stepped out of the tendrils of mist, shedding the cloak. "I'm ready for you, weasel. The one you called Patch-coat was my brother. You're not fit to lick his paws. I will give you your cloak back to take with you to the gates of Dark Forest; they have a special place for cowards there."

Stung by the insult, Cludd bellowed with rage as he charged.

Skipper allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. Flexing his powerful limbs, he hurled himself like an uncoiling spring at the oncoming weasel. Disregarding weapons, the two creatures locked together on the ground, snarling and tearing at each other like savage beasts.

Martin, Dinny and Log-a-Log struggled helplessly, floundering about in the net like fish out of water. The more they moved, the tighter they were entwined. Martin realized this, and lay still.

"I am Martin the Warrior," he called out. "These are my friends Dinny and Log-a-Log. Why have you done this to us? We mean you no harm. We are only travelers pa.s.sing through. Turn us loose, please."

The toads turned to each other. They made unintelligible clicking and golloping noises, seeming to find the whole business highly amusing. Their leader jabbed warningly at 210.

the captives. "Krrglug, yukyuk! Quietnow, furmouse. Dampwatchsay comenow.''

The prisoners were dragged unceremoniously along the muddy ground. Other toads came out of the mist to join the procession. When they finally reached their destination, the captives were surrounded by a veritable army of the creatures.

The leader threw the net ends over a stake driven into the ground. He spread his webbed claw membranes. "Krrplok! Seehere, onemole twomouse, Marshgreen say what?"

Seated on a huge fungus carved into the likeness of a high throne was a toad bigger than the rest. Far more repulsive, too. It had no warts and was a slimy wet green color. Its great translucent eyes filmed over as it blinked at the captives. Fireflies danced in opaque plant-holders, and four more toads stood guard around the throne with tridents. The big toad gave an ungainly hop down to the ground and stood in front of the trio, blinking ceaselessly, its great wobbly throat pulsating.

"Krrklok! Goodfind, Dampwatch. Furmouse makehappy Marshgreen."

Martin decided that politeness was at an end. They were being treated like trophies. The warrior mouse's voice was loud and angry. "See here Marshgreen, or whatever they call you. You've no right to treat us like this. Now set us free, this instant!" he demanded.

The a.s.sembly of toads gave a bubbly cry of shock at the blatant disrespect to their ruler.

Marshgreen inflated his throat until it swelled like a balloon. His eyes bulged like b.u.t.ton mushrooms.

"Splakkafrott! Mouthshut mousefur. Cheekybeast. Take-three, throwin Screamhole."

The company of toads waddled and hopped excitedly, brandishing their tridents. "Krrplakoggle! Screamhole, throwin Screamhole!"

"Look over there," Log-a-Log whispered to Martin. "I might have known it wouldn't be spring without those two weeds sprouting again."

It was the newt and the gra.s.s snake, Whipscale and Death-coil. The unsavory pair saw they were noticed and grinned wickedly.

211.

"D'you fancy standing on my tail again, shrew?"

"Oho, you three are in for it now."

Dinny shook the net. "Goo boil yurr 'eads, s...o...b..asts."

Deathcoil stood almost on the tip of his tail. "Not until we've seen you thrown into the Screamhole with the Snake-fish."

Before they had a chance to find out what Deathcoil was talking about, the trio were dragged along in the net once more. The journey was not so long this time; it was far speedier because the net was hauled by many more toads.

They halted at what appeared to be an overgrown well. Its large circular bore disappeared deep into the earth. Thick ferns drooped about the edges, growing down into the pit.

Marshgreen came waddling up with the snake and the newt. They were flanked by toads carrying firefly lanterns on their trident forks.

"Krrpook! Snakefish feedwell, Marshgreen bringyou fur-mouse," the toad ruler called down the dark wellhole.

A toad presented Marshgreen with an elaborately carved trident. He jabbed it ceremoniously at the captives in the net, then jabbed it three times toward the well. The a.s.sembled toads flattened themselves against the ground, chanting, "Snakefish mightyone, stayin Screamhole, eatup furmouse, leavealone Dampwatch!"

Martin and his friends lay apprehensively listening as the chant grew louder. Suddenly it stopped. The toads holding the net spilled it open, tugging it backward vigorously.

Martin, Dinny and Log-a-Log were shot forward through the tracery of overhanging fems. Deep into the Screamhole.

Tsarmina had detailed her archers to scatter volleys into the trees and brush in case of concealed woodlanders. They fired off a desultory salvo, then all else was forgotten as they broke off to watch the battle between Skipper and Cludd at the water's edge.

Jaws locked, the combatants rolled over and over. Loam and sand flew in all directions as they bit, grappled and kicked, raking each other with heavy claws. The very ground shook 212.

at their wildness. Fur hung on the dawn air. Blood spattered into the river.

It was not too long before Cludd realized he was outmatched by the power and fury of Skipper; now he was fighting for his life. The weasel tried to pull free from the maddened otter, but to no avail. His breath sobbed raggedly in his throat as he strained to reach the spear he had dropped in the first charge.

Skipper, aware of what Cludd was up to, squirmed over, rolling him in the opposite direction to the weapon. Suddenly Cludd grabbed a pawful of sand and ground it into his opponent's eyes. Temporarily blinded, Skipper furiously tried to clear his vision, unwittingly freeing Cludd. Seizing his chance, Cludd bounded up and s.n.a.t.c.hed the spear. With a savage scream he charged at his floored adversary, leveling the point at Skipper's unprotected neck.

Through a sandy haze, Skipper saw the weasel coming. He rolled to one side. As he did, his paw came in contact with the Captain's cloak he had shed upon the bank. Sweeping it up and over in one continuous movement, the otter netted Cludd, head and haunches. Falling over backward, Skipper felt the breeze of the spearpoint pa.s.s his ear.

He thrust upward mightily. All four paws connected squarely with Cludd's body. The weasel shot high in the air, enveloped by the cloak, landing with a cry of shock. His fall had been broken upon the otter javelins that stood fixed in the ground.

Otter javelins are pointed at both ends!

Chaos broke loose. Tsarmina hurled her troops forward at Skipper. A band of otters broke cover, stopping them with javelins and slingstones. Skipper bounded gracefully tail over ears into the river, followed by his crew, who took the liberty of rattling a last furious salvo at the soldiers of Kotir. Pushed on by those behind, several of the front ranks spilled into the water.

Tsarmina was among the first to go headlong into the river. Panic overtook the wildcat as she floundered in the water. "Out, get me out," she screamed. "Quick, before they loose the pike!"

Hurriedly she was dragged up onto the bank.

213.

Further upstream, there was a barking laugh of victory as Skipper's head broke the surface. "The weasel got his cloak back, cat. It's pinned to him."

The river closed with a swirl on the last of the otters. Tsarmina raced up and down the bank, s.n.a.t.c.hing spears from her soldiers, hurling them vindictively at the water.

"Come out, woodlanders, stand and fight!" she challenged.

Brogg, the weasel companion of Cludd, had taken the opportunity of extracting the cloak from the javelins and his friend's body. He squatted at the river's edge, washing it through.

Few rips, bit of blood; still, it should clean up nicely, he thought.

Suddenly the cloak was being pulled into the water, dragging Brogg along with it. Ashleg kicked him soundly on the bottom.

"Leggo, fool. TheyVe got the pike out."

Brogg had never let anything go so quickly.

Bella appeared on the opposite bank. "Stay out of our woods, cat," she said, pointing a blunt claw at Tfcarmina. "lake your vermin away from Mossflower and leave us alone, or you will be defeated someday.' *

Tsarmina ran to the water's edge, but halted at the sight of a dorsal fin patrolling the river. Her voice was a hoa.r.s.e scream.

"I am the Queen of the Thousand Eyes. I rule all Moss-flower. One time I might have shown you mercy, but not now. This is war to the death-your death, badger! Archers!"

Before an arrow could be strung, Bella had gone.

214.

The Screamhole was dark and slimy. Martin, Dinny and Log-a-Log landed with a splash in muddy water. The mole slipped upon a smooth bulky object.

"Yurr, wot be that?" he wondered aloud, as he spat out fetid water.

"Don't hang about down there, matey. Here, reach up and I'll give you a lift."

The voice belonged to Gonff!

Martin and his friends looked up. They could not see daylight or hear the toads. Above them was a hole in the pit wall; Gonff stood at its entrance, holding a firefly lantern in his paw. The little mousethief looked dirty and wet, but as cheerful as ever.

Martin was overjoyed. "Gonff, you old thief, is that really you?"

Their long-lost companion shook with silent mirth as he held up a cautionary paw. "Shush, matey. Not so loud. You'll wake up the big feller. Here, grab this vine and I'll pull you up."

Gonff hauled Martin up; together they pulled Log-a-Log and Dinny to safety. All three shook water from their coats and warmly hugged the little mousethief.

"Bring any rations with you, matey?" Gonff was hungry.

"Nay, 'ee toaden took'm all."

215.

Gonff looked disgusted. "Oh, that warty lot. I might've known."

Log-a-Log sat in the dryest spot he could find.

"But how did you come to get down here?" he asked curiously. "We thought you were dead for sure when we lost you at the waterfall."

Gonff puffed his chest out indignantly. "Me, dead! Not likely. When I went over the falls I must have been washed right underneath the mountain by the currents. Next thing I knew, I woke up with the snake and the lizard standing over me. Foul reptiles, they'd bound me tail and paw. I was taken up in front of old Greenfrog, or whatever they call him. Huh, the filthy old swamphopper, he'd been listening to the snake and the lizard, and wanted to know where I'd hidden you three. Of course I told him to go and roast his fat green behind. That was when he lost his temper and had me chucked in here with old Snakefish."