Doomwyte (12 page)

“There’s too many of ’em. Get goin’ or we’re finished!”

Both otter and hedgehog fled for their lives, with the screeching mob at their heels.

“Yeeeyeee! Gerrem, catcher ’em! Hiyeeee!”

Was there ever such a thieving tribe?

The passage to the right was not only pitch-dark, but it began going downhill sharply. Bosie was in the lead, he dug his footpaws in and held on to the damp rocky wall, calling advice to Samolus and Dwink. “Och, iffen this gets much steeper, we’ll fall doon tae who knows where. We’d be best tae rope oorselves taegether.”

Dwink passed the rope, which they looped about their waists before continuing. It was just as well that they were roped together, because Dwink slipped. Dropping his lantern, the young squirrel gave a yell of dismay as he shot past his companions. Samolus was too late to stop Dwink. He bumped into Bosie.

“Grab the rope, stop him!”

The rope played out, then tautened. Bosie grabbed a rocky protrusion, bracing himself, steadying Samolus by pinning him against the wall. They both stared downward, watching Dwink’s lantern light disappearing into nothingness. Dwink’s voice came up to them, tight and urgent.

“Don’t let me go, hang on to the rope, I’ll try an’ climb up. Don’t let go o’ that rope, keep a tight hold!”

By the light of Bosie’s lantern, both he and Samolus could see that they were on a narrow rim. Below them yawned a wide, massive hole, a pit which looked bottomless. The mountain hare shouted to Dwink, “Are ye alright doon there, laddie, d’ye want us tae pull ye up?”

Dwink’s answer carried a touch of indignation. “I’m a squirrel, y’know, I can get myself up.”

Samolus could not resist a wry rejoinder. “If’n yore so nimble, then how did ye manage to fall down there, eh?”

Dwink was about to reply when a booming voice interrupted, “Beware the eye of death and the pit of lost beasts! Go back now, or die! Woooooooooh! Baliss!”

Dwink scrambled up onto the ledge like a shot. He huddled behind his two friends. “Who said that?”

The phantom voice echoed out again. “Your fate is sealed if ye do not turn back now. I am the Eye of Death, I see all, heed my warning! Woooohooohhhhhh! Baliss!”

Dwink was frightened. He whispered to Samolus, “There’s nothin’ for us down here, we’d be better doin’ wot the voice says an’ turnin’ back!”

The mountain hare, however, was made of sterner stuff. Clipping Dwink’s ear lightly, he called into the dark void, “Ach, away wi’ ye! Eye o’ Death mah grannie’s apron! Ah’m the Laird Bosie McScutta o’ Bowlaynee, a braw warrior, an’ frit o’ naebeast. If’n Ah’m no mistaken, ye have the voice o’ a bird. So hearken tae me, auld Deatheye, d’ye see mah blade?” He waved the sword of Martin in the lantern light, adding as it shimmered and shone in the gloom, “Lissen, mah friend, Ah’ll clip yore wings wi’ this bonny thing, aye, an’ send ye intae yer own pit!”

A soft, green light appeared at the far arc of the narrow ledge. As it travelled closer, the light increased in brilliance. Samolus swallowed hard as it approached them.

“Great seasons, what creature has an eye that size?”

Bosie nudged him, none too gently. “Haud yer wheesht, y’auld ninny, let’s see what it has tae say for itself!”

It waddled hesitantly out of the darkness, a tawny owl, holding a great emerald in its beak. Dropping the jewel, it placed one of its fierce four-taloned claws on the precious object before addressing Bosie. “Clip my wings, would you, sir? Alas, that has already been done. I am condemned to a life of walking, a sweep of your blade to my throat would come as a mercy to me. My name is Aluco, welcome to my world, such as it is. Pray tell, what are you doing down here?”

Samolus, whilst feeling pity for the owl, could not restrain his curiosity. “We could ask you the same question, Aluco.”

The tawny owl heaved a hooting sigh; he appeared ready to explain. However, his head swivelled, almost full circle, and his dark eyes shone alertly. “I could tell you, friend, but I haven’t the time. Quick, they’re coming!” He began shuffling away along the ledge.

Bosie called after him, “Who’s coming, what are ye talkin’ aboot?”

Aluco came back to retrieve his stone. “The Painted Ones from above the other tunnel. I don’t know why they’ve chosen now to attack me, but their numbers are many, we must hide. I have a den over the far side of this ledge. They never venture there, follow me!”

The yells and screeches of the foebeasts could be heard, echoing down the tunnel as Dwink spoke. “From the other tunnel, you say? We’ve got three friends who went searching up there, and a mole, waiting at the junction of both passages!”

Bosie began climbing back up the slope. “So ye see, we’ve got tae go an’ help ’em. Ah dinnae care how many o’ they Painted Ones are abroad, Ah’m bound tae aid mah friends!”

Aluco scrambled up to the hare’s side. “Then count me in, better a quick death than dragging my life out in this place. Besides, if we can make them retreat back to the left tunnel, I’ve got a trap laid that’ll keep the fiends off our backs. Follow me, I know my way round down here.”

Unfortunately the tawny owl, not being able to fly, slowed things down considerably. Aluco trundled along the rocky corridor with his newfound friends stumbling impatiently in his wake. The high-pitched screams of the Painted Ones grew louder up ahead.

Anxious to find out what was going on, Bosie pushed past the owl. “Ah best make haste afore ’tis too late!” He hurtled onward, up the tunnel, toward the sound.

A lantern glimmer showed ahead. It was Foremole Gullub and Umfry, between them they were supporting Skipper. The Otter Chieftain was limping badly.

The cries of the foebeast were almost drowning out every other sound as Bosie reached Skipper’s side. “Och, whit ails ye, laddie?”

The brawny otter winced grimly. “No time for chatter, mate, git us out o’ here, there’s a mob o’ savages on our tails!”

Aluco hove into view, with Samolus and Dwink illuminating the way with lanterns. The tawny owl beckoned urgently. “Back, back, to the ledge. My den’s on the far side of it. I’ll see if I can face them off whilst you escape!”

Bosie saw the mass of dark shapes pouring at them out of the gloom, yelling, screeching and shouting. Drawing the sword of Martin, the mountain hare stood alongside the tawny owl. “Ah’m with ye, bucko, nae beast’ll say that the Laird McScutta left others tae fight his battles!”

As the rest of the party rushed Skipper off to safety, Aluco picked up a lantern, muttering to Bosie, “They fear me, let me show you.” Holding the big emerald in front of the lantern light, the owl gave vent to a blood-chilling cry, which resounded around the passage. “Whoooh! Baliss the Eye of Death sees all! Whoooeeeeh!”

The Painted Ones suddenly fell silent, milling about, as if unsure of what to do. Aluco whispered to Bosie, “Let’s start retreating slowly whilst they’re still.” The vermin mob stayed motionless for a moment, then they were forced to come forward, as the front ranks were shoved by those behind them. Bosie whirled the sword, his blade weaving an eerie green arc in the emerald light. Then he roared out his warcry. “EulaliaaaaBowlayneeeee! Ah’m the slayer frae the mountains! EulaliaaaaBowlaynee! Ah’ll send ye all tae Hellgates! Yaaaahaaarrrrr!” Aluco bellowed out his Eye of Death challenge as Bosie carried on with his battle rant. It seemed to have the desired effect. They backed hastily off, still delivering dire threats.

But it did not last. The pair were almost safely on their way, when the Chieftain of the Painted Ones shouted out angrily, “Gerrem! Killem afore they ’scape! Chaaarge!”

Then the owl and the hare were running for their lives, as the vermin mob stampeded forward after them.

Aluco’s den was a cul-de-sac at the far side of the deep pit. Going in single file along the narrow ledge, which circled the abyss, the friends helped Skipper along, whichever way they could. Gasping and panting, they took shelter behind a palisade of stubby stalagmites, which fronted the den.

Taking his knife, Samolus cut strips from his tunic, passing them to Gullub, Dwink and Umfry. “Gather stones an’ pebbles, there’s lots of ’em about, this cloth should do to make slings. Skip, stay here an’ rest yoreself, we can’t leave Bosie an’ Aluco to face those villains alone. Come on!”

Skipper attempted to rise, but his leg flopped uselessly under him. He thrashed his rudder in frustration. “Garrr! That dart they stuck me in the footpaw with has deadened my blinkin’ leg!” Hauling himself upright on a stalagmite, he pointed. “Ahoy mates, here they come, gimme a sling, will ye!”

Bosie and Aluco reached the narrow rim with the vermin hard on their paws. The owl directed his companion, “Take the left ledge, I’ll go right. Watch out for any darts they shoot at you, they’re dangerous!”

The hare was a short way along the ledge, pushing his back hard against the rocky wall, as he tried to not think of the bottomless void yawning in front of him. A Painted One ventured out onto the ledge, loading a dart into a hollow blowpipe. He leered wickedly at Bosie.

“Yikahee, getcher now, rabbet, Gadik never misses!” A chunk of limestone struck him on the neck. He gave a choking gurgle, and plunged headlong into the pit.

Samolus’s voice called out cheerily, “I never miss, either, scum. Step up, who’s next?” This was followed by a salvo of slingstones, as the defenders called encouragement to Bosie and Aluco. “You’m goo easy naow, zurrs, us’ll give ’em billyoh ’til ee bees safe!”

The vermin gathered on the rim’s edge, with their Chieftain egging them on. “Shoot, shoot! Stoppem! Yikikik!”

Skipper grabbed up a lantern and shook it. “Give me space, mateys, this ’as still got oil in it!” Holding himself upright on the stalagmite fence, he swung the lantern back and forth with his powerful rudder. The still air whooshed as he hurled the lit lantern. Up it went, streaking across the dark pit like a comet. The vermin were too tightly packed on the far rim to avoid it. The missile came down with a crash amongst them, its rock crystal prisms shattering, spraying blazing vegetable oil over the heads of the foebeasts. The screams were deafening; three fell, blazing, into the black abyss. A second lantern followed, thrown by Foremole Gullub’s mighty digging claws. Dwink was about to hurl a third lantern, but he was stopped by Umfry.

“Don’t throw that un, h’it’s the h’only light we got left!”

Bosie and Aluco scrambled into the safety of the cul-de-sac. The hare put up his sword. “Mah thanks tae ye, friends, Ah reckon that’s given the blaggards somethin’ tae think aboot!”

The far rim was in chaos, more vermin were falling into the pit, as the mob scrambled to get away from the flames. The Chieftain was screeching unmercifully, lying flat on his back as he tried to extinguish a smouldering bottom and tail.

A green-and-black-painted female garbed in vines and withered vegetation took charge. She charged about with a long blowpipe, issuing orders. “Back, back, alla ye! Take Chigid with ye!”

Aluco pointed a talon. “That’s Chigid, their leader. He took me captive and pulled my pinions to stop me ever flying. What a pity the flames never slew him, the evil little rat!”

Dwink watched the enemy retreat from the rim. “Is that what Painted Ones are, rats?”

The owl nodded. “Aye, small, wild tree rats. They don’t like anybeast to know what they really are, so they paint themselves all green and black, and wear many kinds of vines and plants to disguise themselves. But there’s lots of them, they’re cruel and vicious!”

Tears popped unbidden to Umfry’s eyes. “H’and they’ve got pore Bisky, our mate!”

Skipper placed both paws against his brow in despair. “Aye, ’twas my fault, I couldn’t stop ’em!”

Bosie patted the otter’s stout back comfortingly. “Ach, ye canna blame yerself, Skip, Ah’ll wager ye did all ye could tae save the young un. But dinna fret, Ah’ll rescue Bisky frae yon vermin rogues. Aye, an’ Ah’ll make ’em weep bitter tears for their wrongdoin’s, ye have McScutta’s word on it!”

Aluco gave the hare a withering sideways glance. “Bravely said, sir, and when, pray, is all this going to happen, eh?”

Umfry interrupted, spikes a-bristle with righteous wrath, “H’as soon h’as possible, h’in fact right now!”

The tawny owl’s huge eyes widened. “Excuse me saying, but do you think that’s wise?”

Dwink sprang up, fitting a rock to his sling. “Wise? There’s no time t’worry about bein’ wise, we’ve got to save our pal Bisky from those fiends!”

Foremole Gullub shook his head at the young squirrel. “Ee owlyburd b’aint no fool, you’m lissen to ’im, zurrs!”

Knowing that mole logic could not be disputed, Samolus agreed with Gullub. He bowed to Aluco. “Carry on, friend.”

The owl puffed out his chest feathers, launching into an explanation. “I know this may sound dreadful, but forget about saving your friend for a moment. Our main problem is how to save ourselves. Think about it. Just up that tunnel there’s a whole army of Painted Ones, thirsting for our blood. Believe me, you wouldn’t last the wink of an eye. I know their leader, Chigid, he’s been injured by the lantern flames. That one won’t rest until your skinned carcasses are hanging from his five-topped oak tree. I was a captive of the Painted Ones for many seasons, I know how they think. They’ll be sworn to avenge themselves against you at all costs.”

Samolus had a question. “But how did you escape from them? And one other thing—where did you get that Doomwyte Eye, the big, green jewel you carry?”