Doomwyte (19 page)

A pretty summer morn lent its freshness to Mossflower woodlands, with birdsong resounding through high-canopied trees. The Guosim band, together with the Redwallers, had spent the night in the dried-up ditchbed, which had not proved uncomfortable. Tugga Bruster was up at the crack of dawn, bullying his shrews as usual.

“Up off yore laggardly tails, you lot. Marul, take six o’ these layabouts, an’ scout that clearin’ up ahead t’see if’n that serpent’s gone. Then report back ’ere t’me. Well, go on!”

The shrew Marul did not seem too pleased at the prospect. He chose six of his reluctant fellowbeasts, saluting Tugga Bruster as he paced back and forth. “Er, but suppose the giant snake’s still there, Chief?”

The Guosim Log a Log chuckled mirthlessly. “Then ye’ll run back ’ere twice as quick, won’t ye? Stop tryin’ to wheedle out of it, get yore paws movin!”

Marul led the six off in a desultory fashion, all of them paw shuffling and lagging behind. Tugga Bruster worked himself into a fine temper, roaring at them.

“Call yoreselves Guosim, ye yellow-bellied, lily-livered ditherers. When yore Log a Log gives ye an order, ye jump to it! Now git up t’that clearin’ afore I move yore bottoms with me warclub!”

He was swinging the iron club threateningly, when Bosie purposely bumped into him, sending the Guosim Chieftain sprawling. The hare made a flourish, waving the kerchief he carried in his sleeve.

“Oh dearie me, Ah’m sorry, Ah didnae see ye there. Och, silly me, allow me tae help ye up, sirrah!”

Tugga refused the proffered paw, and sat up fuming. “Should watch where yore goin’, longears!”

Skipper, who was accompanying Bosie, pointed ahead. “We’re just goin’ t’see if that ole snake’s moved hisself. No need for yore Guosim to go, mate, that is, unless ye’d like to come with us yoreself?”

Marul and the six Guosim gave a sigh of relief, and went back to the dried ditchbed. Tugga slammed his iron club against a sycamore. “I never told ye to go back there, now git up t’that clearin’ an’ look for the snake! Ye take orders from me, not some plank-tailed streamhound!”

Skipper’s jaw was set grimly as he turned to Tugga. However, it was Bosie who interrupted. “Och, give yer auld tongue a rest, there’s nae need for an army tae go tae yon clearin’. Why d’ye not take Skipper’s advice an’ come up there with us? Ah’m certain any serpent wouldnae fancy tacklin’ three braw beasties like we are.”

The Shrew Chieftain snapped back at him, “I don’t take orders, I gives ’em, an’ I ain’t goin’ to no clearin’ with you two, longears.”

A dangerous glint came into the hare’s eyes. His paw was on the swordhilt as he replied, “Where Ah come from Ah’m hailed as a Clan Chief. So Ah’ll give ye a wee bit o’ advice. Never order your tribe tae do somethin’ that you’re afeared tae do yerself, laddie.”

Tugga Bruster was shaking with rage. He bellowed at Bosie, “I ain’t afeared to do anythin’ you can do, longears. I’ll come with ye!”

Bosie took a step forward, eyes blazing. “Listen, mah friend, if ye refer tae the Laird o’ Bowlaynee as longears just once more, ’twill be a harsh lesson ye’ll learn. D’ye ken?” Bosie signalled to Skipper. “Let’s go tae this clearing’, bonny lad, just ye an’ me. We’ll be better served without sich poor company. Leave him here tae give his orders!” The pair strode off, leaving an irate but speechless Log a Log behind.

Arriving in the clearing, they found it deserted, Baliss having departed sometime during the night. Skipper took an approving look at the greenswarded oasis in the woodlands. “Wot d’ye say, Bosie mate, ’twould be a great spot to take a leisurely breakfast, eh?”

The hungry hare beamed from long ear to long ear. “Och, ye took the words straight out o’ mah mouth. Ah’ll sprint back an’ tell the others.”

It was not strictly just a breakfast—everybeast knew this would be the one full meal they would have time for that day. Accordingly they made it a good one. Guosim cooks set up a cooking fire, and began unpacking most of the food provided by Redwall. Umfry and Dwink stood watching them. Umfry voiced his disappointment. “H’is that h’all they’re going t’do, sit there stuffin’ their faces all day?”

“Aye, I thought we was supposed t’be searchin’ for Bisky, an’ Tugga wotsisname’s missin’ son?”

Samolus butted in on their conversation. “You’ve heard the saying, an army marches on its stomach. You haven’t? Well, let me explain. This is probably the last food we’ll eat until tomorrow. Skipper tells me we’re not too far from the five-topped oak. So, if there’s to be a fight, it’s better to die with a full stomach than an empty one. Eat hearty, you young uns!”

Guosim cooks baked flatbread over the fire. They were good at campfire food, it smelled delicious. Soon everybeast was tucking into baked apples, flatbread, toasted cheese and one of Friar Skurpul’s heavy travelling fruitcakes. There was mint tea or pear cordial to go with it.

In a clumsy attempt to pay back Bosie for tripping him, Tugga Bruster feigned a stumble. Some of the beaker of mint tea he was carrying slopped over. It narrowly missed scalding the hare’s head. The Guosim Log a Log made an exaggerated bow. “Ho dear, I’m sorry, are you alright, sir?”

Bosie merely nodded. “Ah’m fine, thank ye.”

Tugga leered. “Almost scalded yore…long ears.”

The hare rose, slow and deliberate. “Ah’ve taken enough from ye, defend yerself, shrew!”

Putting down his food, Tugga held up both paws, pads outward. He was smiling slyly. “I’d stand no chance agin that sword o’ yores, Guosim rapiers ain’t that long.”

Bosie passed the sword of Martin over to Skipper. “Och, Ah’ll no be needin’ a blade tae deal with the likes of ye, cully!”

Tugga Bruster cast his rapier aside, commenting, “Aye an’ I won’t use my blade…just this!” Without warning, he charged, swinging his iron warclub.

Bosie, however, was ready. Skipping to one side he launched himself into a high sideways leap. The hare’s powerful footpaws cannoned into the shrew’s head, laying him flat-out, and stunned. It all happened so quickly that the onlookers were amazed.

Marul turned to Dwink, his jaw agape. “Sufferin’ seasons, wot a kick!”

Dwink shrugged, as if he had seen it all before. “All Redwall warriors are good at their job, ain’t that right, Skip?”

The Otter Chieftain nodded sagely. “Aye, mate!”

Marul was still greatly impressed. “I never seen anybeast do that afore, I wonder would Mister Bosie teach me how t’kick like that?”

Bosie retrieved his sword from Skipper. “Ye have tae be born with the footpaws tae do it, laddie, ’tis not a move ye’d learn overnight, ye ken.” But Marul was not listening. He had suddenly sat down and was gagging, as though he were going to be sick.

Bosie looked at the young Guosim oddly. “Are ye alright, bonny lad, what ails ye?”

Skipper saw the trouble right away. Grabbing Marul, he spoke urgently to the hare. “It’s those blinkin’ Painted Ones, mate. Get everybeast back under the trees, quick!”

Throwing Marul across his shoulder, the otter scrambled back to the dry ditchbed, in the protecting cover of the trees. Everybeast followed, with Bosie arriving last, because he was assisting the half-conscious Tugga Bruster. Now they could hear the Painted Ones, calling from across the clearing, taunting and threatening.

“Yeeeheehee! We getcha!”

“Yeeheee, killya nice’n’slow!”

Bosie glanced up at the treetops on the far side of the clearing. He muttered orders, which were passed along amongst the Guosim. “Keep yore heads down! Look to yore bows, arrows an’ slingstones. Watch the trees either side, Ah’ve a feelin’ they’re goin’ tae circle round an’ trap us in a pincer movement. Keep those eyes peeled an’ wait on mah command!”

He turned to Skipper. “How’s young Marul, is he hurt?”

The Otter Chieftain had laid Marul down; he was inspecting the Guosim shrew’s still form. “He’s dead, there ain’t nothin’ we can do for him.”

Umfry could not believe what he had just heard. “Dead? But ’e was standin’ talkin’ to h’us not h’a moment back!”

Skipper pointed to Marul’s throat. “See those darts, three of ’em. I was shot with one in the footpaw, back in the tunnel. I couldn’t move me leg for almost a day, it was deadened. Those scum must tip their darts with some sort o’ poison. Pore young Marul took three in his throat, cut off his breath. He choked, there was nothin’ anybeast could’ve done to save him, nothin’!”

The news spread like wildfire. Shrews began chattering nervously. One rose, as if to make a break and run for it. Samolus tripped him, muttering angrily, “Do as Bosie says, keep yore head down an’ arm yoreselves. Try to run, and they’ll cut you down!”

Tugga Bruster had wakened sufficiently to learn what had taken place. He grasped his warclub. “We’ll charge the villains!”

Skipper eyed him sourly. “Don’t let us stop ye, mate, you go ahead an’ charge, but ye’ll be on yore own. See how far ye get!”

The Guosim Log a Log looked bewildered. “But wot’ll we do, we can’t lay here forever.”

Samolus pointed to the trees, where the Painted Ones were hidden. “Take charge of your Guosim, watch those trees for any movement. Skip, Bosie, we need a plan.”

The three Redwallers put their heads together, with Dwink and Umfry eavesdropping close by. They looked to Bosie, as the most experienced in those matters.

The hare looked from one to the other. “Council o’ war, eh, easier said than done, mah friends. We need tae know how many o’ the foe we’re facin’, an’ a rough idea of when, an’ how, they’re goin’ tae make their move.”

Skipper agreed. “Aye, but we mightn’t get much time to do it in. If there’s a lot of ’em, they’ll prob’ly try an’ charge us. Though if there ain’t so many, mayhap they’ll try an ambush, a pincer movement, like you said, Bosie.”

Samolus loaded a stone into his sling. “I wish we knew, it sounds like quite a bunch of Painted Ones, judging by their shouts.”

The high-pitched taunting continued from the tree foliage across the clearing. An idea filtered into Dwink’s mind—he decided to speak up.

“Er, ’scuse me, but could I say somethin’?”

Bosie looked at him curiously. “Say away, laddie.”

Dwink broached his idea to them. “It’s like this. I’m the only squirrel with this band, and I know I’m better amongst the treetops than any painted, little tree rat. I think I could steal up on them and capture one, bring him back here an’ maybe you could get the information you need, eh?”

Samolus shook his head. “No, you’re too young!”

Skipper scratched his rudder doubtfully. “Hmm, ye are only a young un yet, Dwink, an’ it’s very risky. Oh, there ain’t much doubt that yore a good climber, I’ve seen ye myself, hoppin’ round the Abbey battlements an’ walltops….”

Bosie cut in. “Och, let the laddie have a try, Ah was younger than him when Ah faced mah first war!”

Without waiting for further approval, Dwink grabbed the sling from Samolus. “This is a good, long sling, strong-lookin’, too.”

Samolus let him take it. “I made it myself, ’tis the best sling in Redwall, if ye’ll pardon me saying.”

Bosie smiled. “Then take it with ye, if’n ye feel the need o’ such a thing. Och, where’s the wee beasty gone tae?”

The young squirrel had scuttled off up a nearby elm.

Skipper winked at the hare. “I told ye he was a good climber. Let’s hope he brings yore sling back, Mister Fixa.”

Samolus heaved a sigh. “Aye, and himself with it!”

Veeku, leader of the carrion crows, perched near the rim of the boiling lake in the sulphurous atmosphere of the large cavern. He preferred it there of late; every bird or reptile in the domain beneath the tree-clad hill did also. Everybeast was avoiding Korvus Skurr. The Tyrant Lord of the Doomwytes held them all in disfavour. He remained in the darker, cooler rear cavern, brooding by the cold, bottomless pond, with only the huge, loathsome Welzz for company.

It was a futile exercise. The giant fish would not communicate with Korvus, no matter how much he fed it with live frogs, toads, newts and lizards. The longer Korvus Skurr stayed in isolation, dwelling on the disloyalty of his followers, the more dangerous he became.

His pact with Baliss was now common knowledge to all. He knew he had made a grave mistake by hiring the legendary slayer, but Korvus could not allow himself to lose face by admitting it. Accordingly, the situation got worse. Now no creature dared approach him, fearing his towering rages, and sudden fits of violence. Even his smoothsnake, Sicariss, had taken refuge in the noxious fumes of the main cavern. His once-faithful Wytes joined the crows, magpies and choughs, who mostly camped outside by the stream now.

It was close to evening when several crows, who had been out in the woodlands scavenging, came to perch in the downy birch outside.

Veeku was called from the bubbling lake—the crows had something to report. Winging out into the open, he perched on the topmost boughs of the birch, looking down on his minions. Veeku closed his eyes, waiting until one of the birds began.

“Kraaaak! My brothers and I have seen!”

The leader’s eyes flashed open, transfixing the speaker with a sharp, inquisitive stare. “Kiiirrrraaaah! So, ye have seen?” It was the carrion manner of giving an underling permission to carry on; the crow launched right into his report.

“Kark! We saw the mighty poisonteeth Baliss. In the woodlands, south and west of here. Yarraaa! He is acting strangely, battering himself against trees and rocks, tearing up the earth, writhing and hissing. We think he has taken an injury.”

Veeku switched his attention to another of the carrion for confirmation, snapping at him, “Grrakk! An injury, how did you know this?”

The second crow shuffled along the branch, spreading both wings expressively. “Korra! The head of Baliss is grown bigger, swollen, with many scars and sores upon it. By the way he hurls his body about, he looks to be driven mad!”

Veeku closed his eyes again, giving the matter much thought. When he had arrived at a decision, he clacked his beak at the two crows who had reported. “Korvus Skurr must hear of this. Yakkar! Follow me, you will tell him what you have seen!”

It was a frightening interview. Korvus menaced the three crows, pressing them for every scrap of information, hovering over them with his lethal beak ready to strike at eye or throat. They told him everything, the demeanour of Baliss, the extent of his wounds and the location where they had seen him. Korvus stood silent awhile, watching the shivering carrion, as his murderous, shining eyes bored into them. Then he spoke.

“Harrah! Leave me now. Veeku, tell my Wytes I would speak with them. Say it is my command that Sicariss attends me also!”

The tyrant raven was a clever schemer, he began planning. This news could restore his prestige, renew his power as ruler of the subterranean realm.

Sicariss coiled beneath a heap of reeking bones, which were piled against the slime-coated wall of the main cave. She had been listening at the entrance to the second cave, hearing all that went on. Sicariss did not trust the raven anymore, so she stayed hidden. Let Korvus Skurr do his own thinking from now on, see how far that got him, without the wisdom and counsel of his former oracle!

Out in the tranquil evening depths of Mossflower woodlands, the great adder Baliss lay on the bank of a shaded stream. The agony of his wounds had subsided to a mercifully bearable level. This had been achieved by immersing his head in the cold, clear streamwater. Gradually the flow cooled his hot, sightless eyes, seeping through his mouth, around the forked tongue and deadly fangs. Like most reptiles, the snake could hold its breath for long periods.

Baliss remained with his entire head submerged until a pleasant numbness engulfed him, relieving temporarily the unbearable pains. He repeated the operation several times, prolonging each period under water. At one point, Baliss was letting the water run through his mouth, lying there, with his jaws loose, feeling the current soothing his forked tongue, when he felt a tickle. It was a small lamprey, which had drifted in, and was attempting to attach its suckerlike mouth to the inside of Baliss’s jaw. The serpent’s fangs closed upon the unfortunate fish, he drew it out onto the bank, and devoured it, slowly, with great relish.

Uncoiling languidly, the huge reptile stretched on the mossy bank, which was still warm from the day’s sunlight. To look at Baliss, anybeast would have thought he was either dead, stunned or merely sleeping. That would have been a serious mistake.

Korvus Skurr had sent his remaining few Wytes out to seek Baliss. They were to watch the snake, and report back on his movements. If at all possible, Korvus wanted the serpent dead. He intimated this to his ravens, promising any-bird who achieved this a mighty position, joint rule of the caverns and command over all who dwelt within them.

Soft night fell over the woodlands, with faint, far-off birdsong, echoing around the gently rippling stream. Four flickering lights illuminated the shade twixt moonshadows, as the Wytes winged low through the trees. They reached the spot where Baliss had last been sighted, and spread out to search the immediate area.

One Wyte, Frang, who normally led the others, perched in the low fork of an alder, waiting for the return of the others. He had not long to wait before the Wyte called Vugri returned. Keeping his cawing down to a minimum, Vugri pointed one luminous-tipped wing to where he had been. He leant close to Frang. “Raaak! I have seen the great serpent!”

Frang nodded for him to continue; Vugri hopped from one talon to the other, reporting eagerly. “Wakaaah! Yonder is a stream, Baliss is there. He no longer strikes his head against trees, or throws himself about as we were told. I saw him just a moment ago, I think maybe he is dead!”

Frang clacked his beak softly. “Yirkk! Show me.” The sound he had made was one of disbelief. However, he still wanted to see for himself.

Both Wytes landed silently in the boughs of a wych elm. Vugri indicated his find with a nod. Down below them, and close by, Baliss lay in a patch of moonlight, the whole of his length unfolded, and limp.

Frang whispered, “Yaaark, ye could be right, the monster looks dead. Mayhaps the madness killed him, let us see.” With his stout, heavy beak he snapped off a twig. One powerful twist sent it spinning down at the snake. Frang’s aim was good, it struck the reptile’s head. Both birds were ready to fly for their lives, but the inert body did not even twitch a single scale. Frang clacked his beak in amazement, whispering, “Hayaaah, the great Baliss has gone to Hellgates!”

Vugri swelled his chest, emitting a loud, harsh cry. “Garraaakaaarr! What are ye whispering for, he is as dead as an old frog from the boiling lake!” He swooped down, cawing triumphantly. “Yiiihaaak! It was I who found him! I will tear out the poison teeth and take them back to Korvus Skurr, he will reward me well!”

Frang, the senior of the two Wytes, hurried after him. “Garrah! We will share the honours, brother!”

Vugri landed a hairsbeadth from the adder’s lolling mouth. He struck at the venomous fangs.

But Baliss struck quicker.

Frang managed to swoop out of the dive he was making, wings fluttering wildly. “Kaaaarrrrraaaaagh!”

He winged madly off into the woodland night, as if pursued by golden eagles. The other two Wytes, hearing his terrified caws, left off their search and sped after him. All three remaining ravens headed for the caverns beneath the wooded hill. They were flying scared, stopping for nothing.

Veeku was almost toppled from his perch in the birch tree as the Wytes zoomed past him, crossed the stream and fled into the cave entrance. Torn leaves and strands of creepers fell into the water behind them. The carrion crow leader followed them at a more sedate pace.

In the waft of sulphurous air made by beating wings, Sicariss emerged from her hiding place, amidst the welter of bleached bones. Turning to the yellowed skull of a long-dead rat, she addressed it. “Ssssuch a hurry the Wytesss are in, and Veeku, too. To lissssten isss to gain knowledge, that isss the key to power, yessss!”

As the smoothsnake made her way to an eavesdropping session in the rear cavern, it seemed like the rat skull winked at her in agreement. However, it was only a cockroach passing through its eye socket.

Korvus Skurr listened to the ravens’ reports, without comment. Veeku perched a safe distance away—it did not pay to be standing near the tyrant raven when he was hearing bad tidings. Unusually, Korvus showed no signs of violence or ungovernable wrath after he had heard the news. Watching the dark bulk of the Welzz, circling below in the deep pool, he spoke wearily.

“Haaaraaah! Even my Wytes have failed me this night. But who could expect the mighty Baliss to lie down and die, like any ordinary reptile?”

Frang ventured to agree, “Kahaar, aye, who, Lord?”

Korvus eyed him sourly, his voice heavy with scorn. “Yaaarr! You, for one. Get out of my sight, go on, all three of you!”

Frang and the remaining two Wytes obeyed promptly, relieved they had gotten off so lightly. Korvus changed his manner as he addressed Veeku.

“Waaark! My loyal commander of carrion crows, is it not a sad thing to be served by witless fools?” Veeku merely nodded, keeping his distance as the raven continued in a tired but affable tone. “Kraah! If I want anything done I must rely on you, Veeku, my strong right wing. Take the best of your birds on this mission, find Baliss, scout the monster out and observe him. Do not venture into danger, stay clear of the serpent. Send reports back to me on his movements. Will you do this for Korvus Skurr, old friend?”

Veeku was not fooled for a moment, but he spread both wings, bowing his head low. “Harrak, Mighty One, I will go myself to do thy bidding!”

Even the woodland songbirds did not serenade dawn’s light within sound of the big, blind snake. Baliss had not rested or slept that night—the pains in his head were starting once more. When he found another stream he would repeat the treatment of immersing his head in cold running water. It was the only thing which gave him temporary relief. Meanwhile, he was obsessed with one goal, revenge upon his enemy. Korvus Skurr was the cause of all his miseries, therefore, he must pay the price. The revenge of the giant adder was a fearsome thing to behold.

Vugri knew this only too well, though the biggest shock to the Raven Wyte was that he was still alive. A living captive of the most deadly creature in all Mossflower. Baliss had merely stunned him when he struck. The snake delivered not a bite, but a driving snoutbutt. When Vugri came to his senses, he made a painful discovery: one of his wings was broken, hanging uselessly at his side. He lay in frozen horror, staring into the sightless eyes of his captor.

Baliss reared, striking like lightning. The Raven Wyte managed a croaking gasp as he gaped into the open mouth hovering over him. Beads of venom pulsed into the fanged glands, and a forked tongue touched Vugri’s eyeball, almost caressingly. He smelled the sickly sweet snake odour of death surrounding his head, and heard the sibilant voice.

“Life issss sssweet, you wisssh to live?”

Vugri heard himself give a breathless sob.

“Y…y…yes.” He ignored the twinging spasms from his broken wing, feeling the snake butting his back with a blunt snout, urging him to rise.

Baliss issued him instructions. “You will obey me.”

With his heart beating almost in his throat, Vugri replied, “Yes, I will obey you!”

The snout of Baliss began driving him forward. “You will not try to esssscape, you will take me to Korvussss Sssskurr. Repeat that, to ssshow me you undersssstand the wordsss of Balissssss.”

Vugri complied, though it took him some time to stammer out the instructions.

Sicariss concealed herself by the entrance to the inner cavern. She listened carefully, whilst Veeku repeated what he had heard and seen. Korvus Skurr strode jerkily back and forth, his chest plumage palpitating with the rapid beats of his heart. He turned suddenly.

“Arraaah! Where is the serpent now, tell me!”

Veeku blinked at the vehemence in his voice. “I flew back, Lord, to see he did not kill Vugri. He is forcing him to be his guide. They are not too far, but who could say how long he will take, Lord. He is making slow progress with Vugri as a broken-winged guide. Your Wyte is hobbling, but the serpent is with him all the way. What more can I tell you, O Mighty One? Baliss is coming!”

The watcher on the hillside above the cave entrance was still there. Ever vigilant, the dark beast saw all the comings and goings below. Besides any problems he had with reluctant carrion birds, a disaffected Sicariss and the threat of the approaching Baliss, the Chief Doomwyte remained unaware of the sable-furred mystery creature, hovering over him like a dark nemesis.