Mossflower (Redwall) Page 14

  ‘Gurr, moi goodness, us’ns been ’unted by those ’oller’eads. Burr, yon vermints cudden ’unt their way outer a shallow ’ole.’

  Gonff handed cheese to Martin. ‘No wonder. Did you hear who their boss is, matey? Old Cludd the clod. He couldn’t order his own two ears to stand up straight.’

  Martin put his supper to one side. ‘Maybe not, but he was smart enough to spy on us without our knowing it. I think we should treat them as enemies. That way we won’t be caught off guard. Anyhow, let’s get some supper and sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.’

  From the window of her high chamber, Tsarmina’s eyes pierced the night with the keenness of a predator. She saw Cludd and his special patrol hurrying to Kotir from the north fringes, then sweeping her gaze in an arc she noted a movement at the south edge of the forest.

  Woodlanders!

  Tsarmina rushed to the table and rang her little bell vigorously. A ferret named Raker came scurrying in.

  ‘Quickly, alert the entire garrison. Have them form up inside the barracks awaiting my orders. Tell them to be silent. Send Cludd to me. He’ll be arriving shortly.’

  Raker wondered how Tsarmina knew of Cludd’s imminent arrival, but he did not dare ask her how. He held up his Thousand Eye shield in a smart salute.

  ‘Right away, Milady.’

  Tsarmina peered intently at the band of otters, mice and hedgehogs. She noted the ripple in the treetops – squirrels too. This time she had the element of surprise on her side. She did not intend wasting it. Now they would learn the meaning of the word fear.

  Halfway down the stairs she bumped into Cludd, who was dashing up to her chamber to make his report.

  ‘Milady, I have gathered some expert knowledge on the movements of the woodla—’

  ‘Yes, I already know. Form your patrol up and get down to the main barracks quickly.’

  ‘But, Majesty, there was a robin flying through the woods and I told Thic—’

  Tsarmina whirled upon the slow-witted weasel. ‘Robin? What rubbish are you spouting now? What d’you think I care about a robin? Get out of my sight, you useless lump.’

  Cludd stood, bewildered, on the stairway as she brushed past. There was no point in trying to talk to Tsarmina when she was in one of her moods.

  The highest tree near the south side of Kotir was a stately elm. Chibb was perched in its branches when he sighted the woodlanders.

  ‘Ahem, harrumph! Over here, please, and keep quiet. We don’t want any eagles waking up.’

  Skipper threw a smart nautical salute with his tail. ‘Ahoy there, mate. Is everything shipshape?’

  Chibb paced to and fro upon the branch. ‘Ahem, well I must say it appears to be, harrumph. Though I have my doubts.’

  Lady Amber dropped in beside him, and the nervous robin leapt with fright.

  ‘Madam! Ahem, kindly have the goodness to announce your presence in a less startling manner.’

  Ben Stickle and the rest were unloading packs of rations at the foot of the elm. Columbine looked upward at the robin.

  ‘D’you know, Ben, for some reason I feel as uneasy as Chibb.’

  Ben loaded the packs on the squirrels, who scampered up the trunk as if it were level ground.

  ‘Aye, m’dear, I know ’xactly how you feel. I don’t like this place one little bit meself.’

  As if to punctuate the hedgehog’s remark, an arrow whistled out of the darkness to stand quivering in the elm bark.

  ‘Ambush! Everyone take cover!’ Lady Amber called aloud from her vantage point.

  Immediately, the mice and hedgehogs were screened by a wall of otters. Skipper bounded to the fore, ducking a spear as he swung a sling loaded with several stones.

  ‘Over yonder, crew. By those thickets. Give ’em a rattlin’ good broadside, mates.’

  Ranks of brawny otters made the air rain heavy with hard river stones.

  The dinting and thudding of rock upon armour and pelt was mingled with screams and cries from the ambushers.

  When the fusillade slackened, Tsarmina sprang forward, urging her attackers onward. ‘Charge. Rush them now. Up. Charge!’

  The soldiers pounded toward the woodlanders, yelling and shouting threats as they waved pikes, spears and javelins.

  Lady Amber watched coolly. She notched an arrow to her bowstring as, all around her in the high branches, squirrels followed her example. She laid her tail flat along the bough of the elm.

  ‘Steady in the trees there. Let them get well into the open, then watch for my signal.’

  Though one or two otters were down with spear wounds, Skipper had heard Amber and he backed up her strategy. ‘Otter crew load up. Don’t sling until the arrows are loosed.’

  Now the Kotir army had covered over half the distance, Fortunata slacked off, dropping back with Ashleg and Cludd. Tsarmina alone led the field. Confident that the charge would carry the full distance, she turned to yell further encouraging words to her troops.

  Lady Amber decided they had come far enough. Her tail stood up like a banner as she called, ‘Archers, fire!’

  The waspish hiss of arrows halted the advance in its tracks, the back and middle ranks colliding with the fallen in front.

  ‘Slings away hard, crew!’ Skipper’s wild call boomed out across the melee.

  A second volley of stones flew thick and fast into the confused soldiers.

  Now Tsarmina was forced back into her own ranks. Furiously she began snarling out orders.

  ‘One rank crouching, one rank standing. Give me a wall of shields to the front and carry on advancing. Poke spears out between the gaps in the shields. Quick, fools. Fortunata, group archers at the rear. Tell them to fire over our heads into the woodlanders. Hurry!’

  Realization that they were in danger of being under serious attack galvanized the Kotir troops into action.

  Ben Stickle and Columbine were crawling about, whispering to the noncombatants.

  ‘Friends, help the wounded. Go with them quickly and quietly around the back of this tree. Foremole has arrived with help.’

  They slid away, with Skipper’s crew masking their retreat.

  The soldiers were firing arrows now. They rattled off tree trunks and stuck into the earth, some finding their mark among the woodlanders. The shield-fronted advance moved slowly but steadily forward.

  Skipper and Amber had coordinated their firepower. After the otters loosed stone and javelin, the squirrels shot their arrows, each giving the other a chance to reload, while keeping up continuous fire.

  ‘Slings away!’

  ‘Archers, fire!’

  Brush and Birch were two big competent squirrels. Following Lady Amber’s directions, they swung off towards Kotir’s furthest side, carrying as many ration packs between them as possible. Chibb flew with them. All three were silent, and unseen by those in the fray below.

  Cludd’s bellow urged the soldiers forward. ‘Come on, you lot. Stir your stumps, you laggards. Keep pushing on. We’ll have ’em soon. You can have an otter apiece shortly.’

  A stoat winced as a rock bounced off his spearshaft, sending shocks of pain through his claws. ‘Huh, I’ll have a mouse or a wounded hedgehog, mate. Let Cludd and the Queen tackle those big otters.’

  His companion, a weasel, nodded agreement. ‘Aye, let them have the glory. We’ll be satisfied with the pickings.’

  Seconds later he was silenced by an arrow.

  Lady Amber was beginning to get worried. She called down to Skipper, ‘We’re almost out of arrows up here, Skip. There’s too many of ’em. We can’t stop their advance; it looks as if we’ve had it.’

  Skipper’s tongue was lolling as he tore off two large rocks from his sling.

  ‘There’s nothing for it, marm. We’ll just have to see how many of ’em we can take with us.’

  21

  EARLY MORNING WAS enveloped in white mist. It clung to tree and bush like a gossamer shawl, sparkling with dewdrops in the promise of a hot sunny day ahead.


  Eager to be on their way, the three friends broke fast as they travelled. Martin unpacked scones for them, Gonff doled out a russet apple apiece, and Dinny vanished into the mist, reappearing with a canteen of fresh spring water.

  Limbs loosened as the night stiffness receded. They stepped out at a brisk pace to Gonff’s latest marching chant.

  ‘Sala-manda-stron, look out here we come,

  A thief a warrior and a mole.

  Though the quest may take its toll,

  We’ll march until we reach our goal,

  Sala-manda-stron.’

  The flood of morning sun penetrated the mists, melting them into a yellowy haze. Martin and Gonff struggled to keep straight faces, listening to Dinny chanting the marching verse in mole tongue.

  ‘Salad-anna-sconn, lookit yurr ’ee come.’

  Still in fine fettle, they reached the outskirts of Mossflower Woods. Pushing on through the fringes, they found themselves facing a brown earth road, which curved and bent like a snake. Beyond it lay the far dim expanses of the flatlands shimmering in the heat. Between the path and the flatlands was a deep ditch, though because of the dry weather, it contained only the merest trickle of water.

  The companions kept silent, remembering that Scratch and his aides might well be somewhere nearby.

  Gonff went back to the woods and returned with a long stout branch. Taking his knife, the mousethief trimmed off the twigs.

  Martin watched with interest. ‘What are you up to, matey?’ he asked, keeping his voice low.

  Young Dinny knew. ‘Ee’m maken a powl t’jump ditcher. Squirrelbeast do et iffen they baint no tree to swing offen.’

  Martin took the pole and felt its balance. ‘Oh, I see. A vaulting pole. Good idea, Gonff.’

  Making sure his grip was firm on the pole near its top, Gonff levelled it in front of him.

  ‘Me first, Dinny next, then you, matey. Watch me and see how it’s done. I’m a Prince of vaulters, y’know.’

  Gonff broke into a fast trot. With the pole held straight out, he sped across the road, then dipping the pole into the ditch he levered upwards and out. Martin saw the pole bend, carrying Gonff high into the air. The momentum swung him easily across the ditch. He landed lightly on his paws and pushed the pole back to the mole.

  Dinny held it gingerly, whispering to Martin, ‘Murrsey, oi ’ates a leaven owd earth, ’tis on’y burds be so fool’ardy. Arr well, yurr oi goo.’

  Dinny performed a waddling little shuffle, jabbed the pole into the ditch and rose slowly into the air. The impetus was not sufficient to carry him across; he wavered in the air and began dropping back. Martin made a mad dash. Catching the pole low down, he thrust against it and whipped back with all his force. Dinny was catapulted away from the pole across the ditch. He hit the far bank near the top and was grabbed by Gonff, who helped him to scrabble out. Dinny lay kissing the grass, thankful to be back on firm ground.

  Martin’s strength and fearlessness helped him to make the crossing with ease. He quite enjoyed the sensation of flying through the air. When Dinny was fully recovered they commenced their journey into the flatlands.

  They were not long gone when Blacktooth yawned and stretched himself in the ditch. The trackers had camped a short distance south of the vaulting area.

  Splitnose rolled over in his sleep and slid from the narrow strip of dry bottom into the slimy shallow water.

  ‘Yaaauugghhh! You lousy vermin! Who did that? Come on, own up!’

  ‘Hee hee hee! You did it yourself, puddenhead. It’s a wonder you never carried on snoring.’

  ‘What, me, snoring? Have you ever heard yourself? Sounds like a goose gargling.’

  ‘Rubbish. I never slept a wink. Oh, I dropped off for a moment or two a while back. Funny, though. I dreamed I saw a mouse, just up that way apiece. Guess what? He flew across the ditch.’

  ‘Hee hee hee oh a ha harr! He wasn’t followed by Cludd pretending to be a swallow, was he?’

  ‘Ha, you can laugh, fatty. But it was almost as if I was awake. The mouse flew, I tell you.’

  ‘Fatty yourself! That’s what you get for hogging all those rations last night. It was a nightmare brought on by pure greed.’

  ‘It was not. It was more like a daymare brought on by the hunger. I’m starving.’

  Scratch ignored their arguing. Pulling himself from the ditch, he took a chunk of bread from his pack and began munching it.

  Splitnose and Blacktooth stopped fighting to complain.

  ‘Oi, that’s not fair. You’re supposed to be the leader. It’s up to you to see we’re properly fed.’

  ‘That’s right. I’ve only got a stingy little bit of crust and it’s sopping wet from that stinking ditch water.’

  Contemptuously Scratch threw a crust on the bank edge. ‘There you are. First out gets it.’

  The ferret and the stoat fought tooth and claw. They kicked each other down in an effort to be first out of the ditch. Blacktooth won. He grabbed the crust as Splitnose wailed piteously, ‘Give me some, Blackie. Go on. I’d give you half if I had bread.’

  ‘No you wouldn’t, stoatface.’

  ‘Yes I would.’

  ‘Wouldn’t.’

  ‘Would.’

  Blacktooth relented with bad grace. ‘Oh, here, scringetail. Don’t pig it all down in one gobful.’

  ‘Aaahh, that’s not fair. You’ve got the biggest half.’

  Scratch had wandered further up the bank. He chewed on a young dandelion, pulled a face, spat it out and shouted, ‘Hoi, you two, stop bellyaching and look at this.’

  They ambled up, chewing the last of the crust. ‘What is it?’

  Scratch shook his head in despair. ‘What do you think it is, loafbrains? Look, it’s the track of those two mice and the mole. See, here and here, the pawprints are as clear as day. They’re travelling west.’

  Splitnose found the pole and held it up triumphantly. ‘Aha, another clue. They must have used this to climb out of the ditch on.’

  ‘Oh chuck it away, bouldernose,’ Scratch sneered. ‘Huh, you’ll be telling me next that they used it to fly through the air on. Come on, you two. At least we’re on their trail.’

  From the topmost branches of a beech on the south side of Kotir, Chibb checked the straps on his pack before flying off to the cells. Brush and Birch watched him flying into the thin dawn light, then Brush readied the next pack.

  ‘Shouldn’t take too long, then we can nip back and see how the battle’s going.’

  Birch looked to his quiver. ‘I’m nearly out of arrows. Bet the others are, too. Tell you what – you stay here and see to the robin while I swing back to base. I’ll gather all the arrows I can lay my paws on from the stores and take them to our archers.’

  ‘Good idea. See you later, mate.’

  Around the back of the elm, it was only a short distance from the heavy loam of the woodlands. Foremole led the little party, Columbine and Ben bringing up the rear with Soilflyer, a champion young digging mole. ‘Hurr on’y a liddleways, now gaffers,’ he chuckled secretively. ‘Uz diggers do ’ave a foin tunnel awaiten fer ’ee to excape thru.’

  Gratefully they were helped into the broad tunnel dug by the moles. As they progressed along it Columbine could hear Soilflyer filling in behind them. Up ahead, Foremole said comfortingly to some mice, ‘Never ’ee fear, liddle guddbeasts. We’m a goen’ to Moledeep. None may foind ’ee thurr.’

  Tsarmina’s determination was unabated. She pushed her forces ruthlessly forward.

  ‘Come on. Can’t you see they aren’t sending over as many arrows or stones? Keep going. We’ve got them.’

  Fortunata’s ear throbbed unmercifully. The vixen was lucky that the arrow had not struck a bit lower, or it would have been her skull. Clamping a pawful of her own herbs to the wound, she looked up dismally as a large squirrel swung in laden with quivers of arrows. The fox dropped back a few paces, muttering beneath her breath, ‘If you think you’ve got ’em, Milady, then go and get them yourself.’ />
  Two of Skipper’s crew were driving long sharp stakes into the ground at the base of the elm trunk. Earth had been piled around the stakes and leafy branches scattered on top. From a distance it looked for all the world like a crew of otters lying in wait, armed with spears.

  The newly arrived arrows drove the Kotir soldiers back a short distance, despite Tsarmina’s threats and blandishments. Lady Amber checked to see that the moles had got away with their charges.

  ‘Is it ready, Skip?’

  Skipper held up a paw. ‘As ready as it’ll ever be, marm.’

  ‘Good. We’ll fire a last couple of heavy salvoes while you slip off with the crew. See you back at Brockhall.’

  ‘Aye. Good huntin’, marm. Come on, crew.’

  Once again Amber’s tail stood up straight. ‘Archers, fire!’

  Tsarmina and Cludd heard the command.

  ‘Down flat, keep your heads down, shields up,’ Cludd bellowed to the soldiers.

  When the invaders lifted their heads, the otters were gone. There followed an eerie silence, broken only by the rustle of the treetops. Tsarmina knew this was the squirrels retreating. She straightened up and ventured a pace forward. Cludd joined her.

  ‘Ha, bunch of cowards, eh, Milady. Looks like they’ve run away.’

  Tsarmina peered toward the mound at the base of the elm. ‘Maybe, maybe not. I think they might have set up some sort of trap, or is that a crew of otters armed with spears? Take ten soldiers and investigate it, Cludd. Go on, we’re here to back you up.’

  Reluctantly Cludd selected ten creatures and set off gingerly for the enemy lines. He ducked once or twice when someone stepped on a twig. Finally he arrived at the mound. Knowing the danger had passed, Cludd kicked at a leafy bough, and prodded the mound with his spear.