The Rogue Crew: A Tale of Redwall Page 15

  Drawing both claymores, the tall captain was about to launch into a war cry when a piercing scream rent the air. “Yeeeeeggh!”

  This was followed by another, and yet a third scream. Pygmy shrews and sand lizards began scurrying hither and thither. A long red-fletched arrow with a fishbone tip came soaring over the enemy ranks, thudding into the sand barricade.

  Buff Redspore climbed onto the sandy rampart, pointing toward the dunes. “Otters, sah—they’re bein’ set upon by otters!”

  Queen Dukwina threw herself flat into the flooded trench, moaning, “Axehound’s beasts, the Rogue Crew!”

  There were only six of the sea otters, and a seventh one who did not seem to be one of them. Their leader, a burly young beast, armed with a longbow, quiver and battleaxe, came running forward, giving a long ululating call. “Hoolawhey! Hiyareeeee! Fall down or be slain! Hoolawhey!”

  The effect of this was astonishing to see. Pygmy shrews and sand lizards dropped their weapons, flinging themselves flat on the shore and covering their heads with their paws. The lead otter strode boldly up to the barricade, treading purposefully on the foebeasts’ prostrate bodies. He was a barbaric sight, wearing a woven bark kilt, carrying a round shield across his back and sporting a chunky coronet of amber pieces strung through with silver.

  He pointed a battleaxe at the hares in the trench. His voice bore no sign of welcome. “Who are ye, an’ where come ye from? Speak!”

  Rake mounted the barricade, matching him eye to eye. “Ah know you, mah bucko. Ye’ll be Ruggan Axehound, son o’ Skor, the bigbeast hissel’. Last time I saw ye, y’were nought but a wee bairn huntin’ crabs. Ah’m Captain Rake Nightfur o’ the Long Patrol. Did yer daddy never talk o’ me?”

  The faintest hint of a smile crossed Ruggan’s fierce face. “I recall he did. We’ll talk of this soon—give me but a moment, Nightfur.”

  He turned to scan the shrews and lizards, none of whom dared look up at him. Ruggan spoke out, harsh and loud. “Who gave ye right to war upon the lands o’ my father? Ye live here only by the grace of Skor Axehound, mighty Warchief of the High North Coast! Ye skulking shorescum, where are your rulers? Send them here to stand before me!”

  Trug Bawdsley pushed the queen forward. “C’mon, old gel. I think he wants a word with you, wot!” Lancejack Sage collared the empraking, who was trying to hide himself behind Drander.

  “Up ye come. I think this jolly well includes you, sah!”

  Drawing his battleaxe, Ruggan tested its edge. “Now, speak truly. How came all this to be?”

  Captain Rake interrupted courteously. “Ah think it’d be mahsel’ should explain. Y’see, in a manner o’ speakin’,’twas us who were the cause o’ the ruckus.”

  Ruggan nodded to a female sea otter. “Endar Feyblade, guard these two, hold them here. I will talk with them later. Nightfur, we will rest and dine in drier sand, by the dunes.”

  One of the other sea otters turned to the vanquished army. “Did ye not hear my lord? Go you and bring the best of food an’ drink for his guests. Then stay in your dwelling until he comes to speak with ye!”

  The seventh otter, who did not seem to be one of Ruggan’s warriors, came across to Miggory and pounded his back cordially. “D’ye remember when ye visited Redwall, we sat drinkin’ good October Ale in my cellars one evenin’? Sergeant Miggory, ain’t it?”

  The sergeant shook the otter’s paw warmly. “By me scut, h’I do believe ’tis ole Jum Gurdy! Wot are ye doin’ h’around’ere, mate?”

  Jum slumped down in the warm sand at the foot of a dune. “Oh ’tis a long story, Sarge, a long story!”

  Bread, cheese, pasties, soup and cordial were served to them by a group of grovelling shrews and lizards. They rested and ate in the early noon sun whilst Rake narrated what had happened since he saw the line of skulls and hair strung out on spears. Ruggan listened intently to every word, then sent for Dukwina and the empraking to be brought before him.

  He frowned at the pair. “So, ye disobeyed the Axehound’s rules an’—I make mention—not for the first time. What have ye to say?”

  Dukwina and the empraking immediately fell to bickering.

  “It was her—she wouldn’t listen to a word I’d say!”

  “Hah, look at who’s talkin’. That’s all you ever did. Talk talk talk talk!”

  “Wot, me? I wasn’t allowed t’get a word in once you started!”

  Thwack! The battleaxe head buried itself in the sand between them. Ruggan’s eyes glittered dangerously.

  “Silence—enough! One more word, and you’ll both be deadbeasts. I do all the talking from henceforward. When my father gave you settlement on his land, it was to rule jointly in peace. You, Dukwina, this is not the first time you have tried to seize all power for yourself, and you, Dibby, cowardly little worm, allowing yourself to be bullied. Hah, I think I shall slay ye both an’ put an end to all this argument. Endar, find me a log to use as a chopping block!”

  The empraking and Dukwina threw themselves down, kissing Ruggan’s footpaws and sobbing pitifully.

  “Oh, no, noble Ruggan, spare me, I beg you!”

  “No, spare me—I was the one who helped the rabbets!”

  Across their bowed heads, Ruggan winked at Rake. “What think ye, Captain Nightfur? Do they deserve to die?”

  Rake returned the wink. “Och, Ah’ll leave the decision tae you, mah friend, though they are an awful wee pair.”

  Ruggan beckoned to a serving shrew. “What name do they call you?”

  The shrew tugged her forelock. “Wuzgo, sire.”

  Ruggan nodded. “An’ have ye a mate, Wuzgo?”

  She shook her head. “No, Lord. My mate died a long time ago. I’ve only got a friend, Luggi. That lizard over there.”

  Ruggan looked from one to the other. “An’ what’s your position in this tribe?”

  The little sand lizard, Luggi, flattened his tail in salute. “We serve an’ carry, sire, sweep floors an’ scrub pots.”

  Ruggan pondered this briefly, then gave a pronouncement. “From henceforth, you, Wuzgo, an’ you, Luggi, are the rulers here, over all this tribe. Dukwina, Dibby, I spare your lives.”

  The queen and the empraking were sobbing, this time with relief. Ruggan kicked them loose from his footpaws.

  “Give all your finery to Wuzgo and Luggi—you can do their jobs now. I give your rulers permission to beat you both harshly if you are idle or talkative. That is my command, and any who disobey it are breaking the law of me and my father, Skor Axehound, Warchief of the High North Coast!”

  Lieutenant Scutram murmured to Sergeant Miggory, “Well, now, there’s a chap doesn’t mince his flippin’ words, wot. He certainly laid the law down to ’em there!”

  Ruggan, who had overheard the remark, replied pointedly. “Life on the High North Coast is hard. My father’s word is law, with little room for disobedience or rebellion. I see that one of your hares was slain by these shrews and reptiles. If your captain so wishes, I will slay ten of them in reprisal for that death.”

  Captain Rake shook his head. “Och, no thank ye, mah friend. The Long Patrol does its own slayin’, ye ken. We don’t need others tae do it for us!”

  Skor Axehound’s son bowed his head deferentially. “My apologies, sir, I meant no offence. Tomorrow I will take ye to see my father.”

  He beckoned to Wuzgo and Luggi.

  “We will stay as your guests tonight. Make provision for us. Tell some of your creatures to bury that slain hare.”

  Sergeant Miggory snapped to attention. “Beg pardon, sah, but we buries fallen comrades h’ourselves.”

  The sea otter nodded. “Again, I must apologise. Might my warriors and I attend?”

  Lieutenant Scutram smiled. “Indeed, sah, ’twould be an honour to have your company. Jolly decent, wot!”

  A solemn procession of hares and otters bore the body of young Bribbs to the summit of the highest dune available. He was carried shoulder high on sea otter shields, a hare one side and an otter
the other side of each shield. The burial was accomplished smoothly, after which Lieutenant Scutram spoke a brief poem.

  “Here, far from his mountain home,

  our fallen comrade must lie,

  whilst we go on together,

  ’til our time comes to die.

  His spirit will march alongside us,

  we’ll honour his memory and say

  he died for truth and freedom,

  aye, an’ that’s the warrior’s way!”

  Corporal Welkin laid a flat stone, engraved with Bribbs’s name, on the grave. Everybeast raised a weapon in silent salute, then they turned and walked away. The otters began beating their shields with their axe, sword and spear blades in a dirge, chanting.

  “Heyla ho! Heyla hay!

  Night must conquer weary day.

  Hiyarooh! Hayaree!

  Bloodred sun sinks into sea.

  O, bravebeast who fell, fare thee well.

  Fare . . . theeeeeee welllllllll!”

  The eerie sound echoed around the dunes and shoreline. Lancejack Sage blinked away a tear, remarking to the warrior sea ottermaid she was walking alongside, “By the scut’n’paw, when the fur on the back o’ my neck stops standin’ straight up, I’ll thank ye for that. ’Twas jolly well done. My name’s Sage, like the herb. What’s yours, friend?”

  Her tough-looking companion replied, “Kite the Slayer, Kite like the bird, and Slayer because of the number of vermin I’ve slain.”

  It was said so coolly that Sage felt bound to enquire, “Oh, an’ how many vermin have you slain?”

  The ottermaid showed Sage her shield, which was scored around its rim with a circular pattern of nicks. “Can’t remember the exact count—have to start on my axeshaft soon, though. Just call me Kite, they all do.”

  Big Drander, who was walking behind them, chuckled. “No flippin’ wonder our Badger Lady wants to talk with your warlord. Wonder how many bloomin’ vermin he’s slain.”

  Kite replied without turning to face him. “Never knew anybeast who made so bold as to ask him.”

  A late spring wind chilled the night air, chasing sand along the shore and drifting up the dunesides as it swept in from the sea. None of this affected the Long Patrol hares or the sea otters, who were spending the night inside the ingenious structure created by pygmy shrews and sand lizards. Wrapped in blankets, they basked in the glow of oven fires as Rake Nightfur explained to Ruggan Axehound the purpose of the column’s mission.

  As soon as he mentioned the name Wearat, Ruggan interrupted. “Surely not! We thought he had been slain when he tried to invade our territory. His ship left our coast in flames, the sea was red with vermin blood. My father was sure that Razzid Wearat was either burnt to death or feeding the fishes beneath the water!”

  Lieutenant Scutram spoke. “Sorry to disappoint ye, old lad, but the villain’s back. Er, by the bye, we are talkin’ about the same foul beast, ain’t we? Captains a ship called Greenshroud, long galley with green sails an’ the Wearat corsair sign on one, eh?”

  Ruggan nodded. “There’s only one Wearat we’ve ever heard of, and that’s him, the master of the green ship. You say he’s back again. Tell me more, friend.”

  Scutram went on to explain the incident at Salamandastron, which had resulted in the murder of the young cadets. Then he revealed how the ship had been refitted, this time with wheels, so it could also sail the land, and the addition of two giant bows, fore and aft.

  Ruggan’s fierce eyes hardened. “Which way did the ship sail after it left your shores?”

  Captain Rake took up the report. “’Twas headed north, an’ we’ve had evidence o’ that since. Mah hares captured a wee vermin who’d deserted from the Greenshroud a day an’ a half ago, south o’ here. Aye, an’ we found a poor auld deadbeast, an otter like yersel’. He’d been tortured tae death by the vermin, ’twas a grievous sight, ye ken. We buried him an’ marked the grave wi’ a paddle from his boat, which the scum had burnt.”

  Jum Gurdy looked stricken. “This ole otter, a bigbeast, was he? An’ his boat—could it ’ave been a coracle, Cap’n?”

  Buff Redspore replied, “I was first to find the poor chap. He’d been a fine big otter, an’ though the boat was in ashes, it could well have been a coracle. Did ye know him?”

  Jum Gurdy blinked through his tears, staring at the oven fire fixedly. “Aye, I knowed him a’right. He was my ole uncle Wullow, who never did harm to anybeast.”

  The ottermaid Kite echoed the name. “Old Wullow, he often visited our holt.”

  Ruggan agreed. “Aye, Wullow an’ my father were great friends. This captive ye took, Captain—is that him?” He pointed to Crumdun, who was sitting hobbled between Wilbee and Flutchers.

  Rake glanced at the fat little stoat. “Aye, that’s him, but Ah reckon he’s told us all he knows.”

  Ruggan rose and went to Crumdun, seizing him by the neck. “So, ye told him all ye know, eh? Have ye anything more to tell me, vermin?”

  Crumdun was terrified, gasping hoarsely in the viselike grip. “On me mother’s ’eart an’ me family’s honour, Lord, I told the rabbets everythin’ I knows. I’m only a simple crewbeast!”

  Ruggan hauled him up on his paws, smiling coldly. “Garrent, Bartuk, take this piece of slime outside and get the truth out of him.”

  As the corsair stoat was dragged off kicking and screaming, Ruggan remarked flatly to Rake, “Vermin were ever liars. He’ll talk once those two get to questioning him.”

  Young Ferrul could not stop herself protesting. “Beg pardon, sah, but do your chaps mean to harm him in any way? T’ain’t the sort o’ thing we’d ever do!”

  The ottermaid Kite stared at Ferrul oddly. “No, an’ ’tis not the sort o’ thing that old Wullow would have done. Look what happened to him.”

  Ruggan Axehound addressed Ferrul. “Life’s harder up here on the High North Coast, miss. Codes of honour are different toward searats, corsairs and vermin murderers. That’s how my father’s Rogue Crew has always survived and been victorious, you’ll learn.”

  Captain Rake sighed ruefully. “Aye, Ah’ve nae doubt she will, mah friend, but Ah’d be pleased if ye’d keep in mind that these are mainly young uns who’ve never been in real war before.” Wrapping the blanket about him, Rake lay back. “Sergeant Miggory, post two sentries an’ relief through the night. The rest of ye can sleep now. We’ll be marchin’ on the morrow.”

  The oven fires glowed as they took their rest, each wondering how their encounter with the legendary Skor Axehound would be.

  15

  Uggo and Posy hung grimly on to their makeshift raft, squeaking fearfully as the four shining black shapes whooshed up out of the sea about them. Uggo gasped with shock as he came face-to-face with four seals.

  The largest seal raised its head and bellowed, “Aaah hooooom! Haukahuuuuurm!”

  Hoping the four big creatures meant them no harm, Posy took the initiative. Reaching out, she stroked the head of one, speaking gently to it. “We must get to shore. Help us, please.”

  The seal dived underneath her and, with a shrug of its smooth, mobile body, flipped her up onto the arrowshaft raft, calling plaintively, “Aaaah hoooooommmm!”

  Posy grabbed hold of Uggo, pulling him aboard. “I don’t know what they’re saying, but I think they want to help us. Whoops, hold tight!”

  The raft took off through the water like a stone from a sling, spray drenching the two hedgehogs as they clung on tightly. Almost playfully, the four seals wafted their charges swiftly toward the shoreline.

  Laughing with exhilaration, Uggo looked back at the Greenshroud. The merriment died on his lips when he realised the corsair galley was coming in pursuit of them. He yelled, “The vermin must’ve found we’ve escaped, look!”

  Sure enough, the green vessel was bow on in their wake. Without warning, one of the huge arrows was shot from the bow mounted on the prow. However, it fell far short of them.

  Posy saw the huge arrow splash into the waves behind them
. “They’ll hit us if we don’t get to land soon!” She called urgently to the seals. “Oh, hurry, please hurry!” They seemed to sense the concern in her voice and sped the pair along even faster. As the shoreline loomed up, Uggo launched himself into the water, which was only up to his middle. Quickly he helped Posy into the sea.

  “Come on, we can fend for ourselves now. These great beasts must get out of the way. I wouldn’t want to see them injured, or even slain.”

  He splashed water at the seals, shouting, “Go now, friends, an’ thankee. Go quickly!”

  The largest seal raised itself from the water, flapping its flippers noisily. “Wahoooommmm! Muuuurhaaaaawm!” The four sleek beasts vanished beneath the sea.

  Razzid Wearat scanned ahead, watching the two small figures wading ashore. “How in the name o’ thunder did they get to land so fast? Even under full sail we couldn’t catch ’em!”

  The vermin crew stayed for ’ard, fearful of any reprisals his wrath would bring on them. Somebeast was going to pay for letting the prisoners escape.

  Mowlag, looking up from the bow, signalled for another arrow. “The closer we get, the more chance I got of slayin’’em!”

  Razzid’s trident struck the bow, knocking it aside. “We ain’t got arrows to waste on two liddle pinhogs. Hold the ship dead ahead an’ we’ll run ’em down if’n we’re fast enough! Jiboree, set some good runners up here, an’ let me know when we’re in the shallows.”

  Posy was first ashore. She glanced back at the rapidly closing galley as she took Uggo’s paw. “They’ll be right on our tails soon. We need to run and hide amongst those dunes!”

  It was easy going on the firm sand below the tideline, but once they crossed the debris of seaweed and driftwood, things became difficult. Their paws sank into the dry sand, which slowed their progress considerably.

  Uggo, never the fleetest of runners, tripped, sprawling headlong. He spat sand. “Phtooh! I ain’t much good at bein’ chased, Posy. You go on, leave me here. . . .”