Doomwyte (34 page)

Unfortunately, he found it already occupied by a jackdaw. Seeing the great Korvus Skurr, the grey-hooded bird moved aside to make room. Korvus settled next to the jackdaw, indicating the struggle below with a wave of one wing.

“Garraaak! Why are you not fighting alongside your companions? Do ye fear those earthcrawlers?” He noticed an ugly swelling on the bird’s face as it turned to him. It had difficulty replying.

“Kurrrh! Lord, I was wounded by a slingstone. My mate was slain by an arrow, she lies down there.”

Korvus stared down at the arena of combat. “Where?”

The jackdaw dipped its beak toward the edge of the boiling pool. “Over there, see?”

Pretending he could not see, Korvus got behind the jackdaw, as if to look over its shoulder. “Harraaah! Where is your mate? I cannot see.”

The jackdaw bent its head, indicating the spot. “Korrah! By those two fallen magpies. See the arrow sticking out, she was a good mate.”

Korvus stuck the jackdaw through the back of its neck with his murderous beak. With a wrench of his strong head, he sent its body plummeting downward in a whirl of black and grey plumage. “Yakkaaah! Go and join your mate, fool, there is space for only one up here!”

He settled down to watch the outcome of the battle, keeping one eye on the entrance to the rear cavern. Sooner or later, Baliss would come out of there. Korvus hoped it would be later, some time after he had made his escape.

Though the woodlanders had the element of surprise on their side, they were outnumbered by reptiles and carrion birds. Urged on by Bosie, Nokko, Bisky and Dubble, they fought fiercely. The main area of combat centred round the entrance to the tunnel. Gonfelin and Guosim archers and slingers kept up constant barrages at the carrion, who swept down on them in dark clouds through the yellow fog of sulphur fumes.

Bosie and several shrews were hard put, slashing with their blades at the horde of reptiles, snakes, toads, frogs and lizards. These were not fighting, merely trying to leave by the tunnel. They pressed the woodlanders in seething masses, threatening to bring them down with overwhelming force.

It was Bosie’s injury that decided the outcome of the struggle. Flailing about with his sword like a madbeast, he let his aching paws drop for one unguarded moment. A big chough swept down and attacked him. The foebird’s curved pointed beak drove a furrow across the hare’s head, piercing his right ear. Bosie roared in pain. The chough latched its talons into his brow, screeching madly as it tried to extricate its beak from his ear.

Nokko leapt on Bosie’s back; grabbing the chough, he slew it with a swift dagger thrust. Bosie was still bellowing as he flung the slain bird from him, then he charged, his eyes clouded red in a berserk rage.

“Eulaliiiaaa! Ye durty auld featherbags! Ah’ll make ye rue the day ye broke yore eggshells! Ah’ll send ye all tae Hellgates an’ potscrapin’s! Face me if ye dare, Ah’m the McScutta, Laird o’ Bowlayneeeeeee! Eulaliiiiaaaaa!”

Such was his fury that the enemy broke, scattering widespread. The Highland hare’s wild charge sent fresh energy into the woodland ranks. Howling warcries, they threw themselves anew into the fray.

Bisky found himself with a gang of Gonfelin slingers, whipping stones off, hitting birds and reptiles like a sudden thunderstorm.

A voice rang out. “Cummback ’ere, yer scummy-bummed, onion-snouted blaggards, stand an’ fight! Yowch! Wot didyer do that for, Da?”

It was Gobbo. Bisky could not resist a chuckle as he saw Nokko cuff his errant son’s ear again.

“Less o’ the shoutin’ an’ more o’ the slingin’, gabbygob. Sticks’n’stones, remember?”

Bisky and Dubble broke off to charge a group of lizards, who were scurrying around the soil mound. As the fight became more widespread, the activity at the tunnel entrance waned. Some crows took advantage of this, to scramble off down the tunnel. Zaran spotted the birds and went after them.

Korvus Skurr did not see the black otter depart. He was watching Bosie, who was driving several carrion to the far side of the cavern. Something caught the Doomwyte raven’s eye—he turned sharply in the opposite direction. Two magpies, who had fled into the rear cave, came flapping out, with Baliss pursuing them. Now was the time to leave, whilst the woodlanders were scattered, and the hare was well clear of the exit. Korvus launched himself from the perch, gliding silently down.

Outside, two of the crows had escaped, but Spingo had settled for one with her club, and Zaran caught another with her double blade as it tried to flap off skyward. The black otter nodded to the Gonfelin maid.

“Spingo is feeling better, yes?”

She leant on her makeshift club. “Much better, thank ye. How are me da an’ Bisky doin’ in there?”

Zaran shouldered her sword as she walked back to the tunnel. “They fight like warriors. I think it will soon be over in there. Stay here and rest.”

Inside the tunnel, Zaran had not gone far when she saw the pale, flickering light in the gloom. It could be only one thing, a Wyte. The black otter swung her double-bladed sword high, every sinew in her powerful frame tensed. The moment had arrived to avenge the death of her family.

Korvus Skurr was flying low and fast—he did not see the twin blades gleam until too late. Zaran felt the big raven’s talons grip her as she slashed out and thrust into the Doomwyte’s plumage.

Spingo saw them both tumble out into the stream, a wild melee of dark fur and feathers. They plunged into the water, shooting under the surface. The Gonfelin maid hurried to the spot, trying to look into the clouded depths. There was a momentary silence, then Zaran surfaced in a rush of water.

Spingo gasped. “What was that?”

Streamwater swirled red as the otter dragged the bedraggled carcass of the Great Doomwyte up. Zaran released the slain raven; she watched stony-eyed as it floated off with the current. “Now the kinbeasts of Zaran will rest easy!”

Baliss was loose in the big cave. The giant reptile resembled a living nightmare as he roved the sulphurous mists. The huge coils flexed and curled, the hideous head shuddering uncontrollably in the grip of agonised infection. Birds flew high to escape death, reptiles fled everywhere, to crannies and any holes they could find.

With their instinctive fear of adders, the Guosim were almost petrified. The Gonfelin were little better off at being confronted by such a monster.

Bosie seized Nokko and Dubble, shaking them soundly. “Och, ye’ve good reason tae be afeared o’ yon serpent, but don’t just stan’ there tremblin’. Gather yore crews an’ get oot o’ here. Move yersel’s, buckoes!”

Bisky began pushing all and sundry toward the tunnel. “Bosie’s right, no beast could face that thing. Let’s move while we’re still able to. Get going. Now!”

Zaran re-entered the cavern, immediately taking in the scene. She stood with Bosie and Bisky at the tunnel entrance, as the woodlanders hurried by them. Keeping an eye on Baliss, who had started gorging upon the slain, Bosie tried summing the situation up.

“A score o’ warriors’d be nae good against yon beastie. Aye, but once we’re out o’ this place, how d’we stop it comin’ after us?”

Zaran had a suggestion. “Once all your creatures are out of here, could you not block the entrance?”

Bisky shepherded the last of the Guosim out of the cavern. “We could try. I’m sure our moles could look at it, they’re the ones who’d know about such work.”

Trying deliberately to appear casual, Nokko strutted by, entering the tunnel. “Righto, mates, everybeast’s clear now!”

Baliss left off his grisly feast. Hissing and slobbering, he wriggled off to search for water. As the snake’s noise began afresh, Nokko took to his paws and shot off down the tunnel.

Bosie put up his sword. “Ah think yon mousey has the right idea. Let’s be off!”

Whether it was the sound of the retreating woodlanders, or a faint breeze from outside, nobeast could tell. But Baliss turned aside from returning to the rear cave and headed for the tunnel.

Spingo ran to join Bisky, splashing through the shallows to meet him. The young Redwaller did not hide his pleasure at seeing her so well and sprightly.

“Hello, mate, yore looking pretty chipper!”

Spingo smiled. “You don’t look too bad yourself. What’s happenin’, did we whack ’em?”

Nokko ruffled his pretty daughter’s ears. “Ye could say that, though there’s still that blinkin’ adder to deal with yet.”

Soilclaw surveyed the tunnel frontage, shaking his velvety head dubiously. “Burr, ee’m mostly ’ard, solid rock, zurr. B’aint a gurt lot us’ns can do abowt that, hurr, nay!”

Gobbo interrupted, “Why can’t ye, yore supposed t’be moles, why can’t youse block up the ’ole, eh?”

Nokko glared at his garrulous son. “Hoi, bucketmouth, give yer gob a rest, or I’ll boot yer tail straight inter that stream!”

Burgy waved a hefty digging claw. “Leave ’im be, zurr, ee young maister got a point. Yurr, Frubb, us’ll take ee lukk further in. Coom on, zurr, may’aps ee can ’elp uz.”

Gobbo was not very taken by the suggestion. “Who, me? No, mate, I don’t know nothin’ about blockin’ tunnels!”

Nokko grabbed him firmly by the ear. “Ho, don’t yer now, seems like yer had enuff t’say about it just now. Well, me son, ye can either go an’ ’elp those good moles in the tunnel, or stay out ’ere with me while I duck yer in the stream. Please yerself, the choice is up to you!”

Dragging his tail, and sticking out his lower lip, Gobbo skulked into the tunnel with Burgy and Frubb. “Huh, wot choice is that, eh? It’s not fair, Da!”

Nokko winked at Bosie and grinned. “I’ll tell yer wot else isn’t fair. The stuff on a bird, that’s not fair, it’s feathers. Ha ha…fur, feathers, get it?”

The ghost of a smile touched Bosie’s lips. “Och, very droll, Ah’m sure, mah friend. Er, by the by, did anybeast mention breakfast, ah’m fair famished!”

Garul, the elder Guosim, called to some shrews, “Set up a fire an’ we’ll see wot we can do.”

Whilst preparations were being made to serve food, Bisky and Spingo joined the Gonfelins, to gather firewood.

Gobbo came hurtling out of the tunnel, like a stone from a slingshot. He was gabbling uncontrollably. “Quick quick runrun the addersnake’s comin’ down the tunnel runrun or we’ll all be ate alive!”

He was leaping about, waving his paws frantically. Nokko tripped him neatly, sending him headlong into the stream. “Take a drink an’ get yer breath back, me ould son. Is the snake really comin’, mate?”

Frubb nodded. “Ho aye, zurr, that ee bees, though the way ee surrpint is throwen’ itself abowt, ’twill take summ toime. But ee’m a-cummen sure enuff!”

Dubble tried hard to stop himself trembling.

“W…w…wot’ll we do?”

Surprisingly, it was Gobbo who came up with the answer, summing up his solution in one word: “Fire!”

Nokko beamed as he hauled his son from the stream. “That’s the first sensible thing ye’ve said in yer life. Fire, nobeast can face heat an’ flames!”

Bisky began piling brushwood and twigs into the tunnel outlet. “Come on, mates, all paws to work. Spingo, get a light from the campfire!”

Shortly thereafter, everybeast was dashing about gathering anything that would burn, deadwood, dried rushes, moss, old ferns, twigs, branches and rotten bark.

Dusting off his paws, Gobbo stood, paws akimbo. “Hah, that should stop the scummy ould villain. Just let ’im poke ’is snout inter that. He’ll gerra good roastin, I kin tell yer!”

Bosie watched the blaze, nibbling on an apple he had found. “Aye, but fire’ll no last forever, mah friend. What then?”

Zaran took up her curious sword, nodding to Bosie. “Come with me, I have a plan.” Something in her voice told the hare that he could trust to Zaran’s judgement. The black otter turned to Garul, who was standing by her side. “You must stay here, keep that fire alight. Bosie, come now, bring your fine sword.”

They set off uphill at a smart trot. Zaran glanced back and saw Spingo following them. Not only that, but the mole, Frubb, was also trailing Spingo. The black otter halted. “Go back, friends.”

The Gonfelin maid had a resolute gleam in her eye. “I want t’see wot yore up to. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll stay out o’ yore way, an’ I won’t get trapped under any big rocks. I’ll behave meself.”

Bosie pointed at Frubb. “What about you, mah braw beastie?”

Frubb’s homely face creased with smiles. “Ho, doan’t ee fret abowt Oi, zurr, may’ap you’m guddbeasts might need ee mole along with ee!”

Zaran nodded. “Come then, but do as I say.”

Reaching the spot where the hillside had collapsed, they stood at the edge of the hole. Yellow vapours were still pouring out, as Zaran peered into the depression. Bosie stirred the rim with his swordpoint. He watched the sandy soil silting downward, into the cavern below.

“See, yon big slab hasnae fallen, ’tis still hangin’ there. Though Ah dinnae know what’s holdin’ it up. So, marm, what’s the plan?”

Zaran explained, “I am closer than ever before to doing what I set out to do. Korvus Skurr is slain, now I must destroy his lair.”

Bosie took another look at the hole. “Aye, but even if yon auld stone drops, it won’t destroy the place. Ye told me tae bring mah sword, why was that?”

Zaran nodded toward the big sycamore above the collapsing area. The molecrew’s rope was still attached to its trunk. “All this ground is not safe anymore. If that great tree were to fall….”

Spingo interrupted eagerly, “It’d cave the whole lot in, a tree that size!”

Bosie’s head tilted back as he stared up at the massive height of the sycamore. “Skin mah scut, d’ye want me tae chop that thing doon wi’ mah sword?”

Zaran faced him impassively. “We have two swords, you and I, we will work together.” Without further ado, she went to the sycamore and began chopping.

Bosie sighed in resignation. “Och, this is no task for a Laird who hasnae been properly fed, but Ah’ll do mah best!” Drawing the legendary sword of Martin, he stood opposite Zaran and swung the blade. Then Frubb walked in the way of the swinging blades. Both beasts had to bring their swords up sharply, to avoid slicing through the mole.

Zaran spoke through clenched jaws. “Please, friend, stay out of our way!”

Frubb did not seem at all put out by his close shave. Leaning against the tree, he shook his head with disapproval. “Nay, nay, marm’n’zurr, you’m going abowt et all wrong-wise. The way you’m a-goin’, you gurt tree’ll prob’ly fall back’ard an’ flatten ee both. Ho urr aye, take et frum Oi!”

Spingo liked Frubb, so she backed him up stoutly. “I’d lissen to that good mole if’n I was you. Moles saved my life, they’re very sensible beasts!”

Frubb bowed, tugging his snout, a sure molesign of respect to another. “Whoi thankee, likkle mizzy!”

Zaran shrugged impatiently. “Then tell us what to do.”

Frubb held up a paw for silence. He paced around the sycamore, sniffing, scratching the earth and tapping on the trunk with his powerful digging claws. Whilst he performed this curious ritual, he could be heard muttering odd calculations to himself.

“Hummm, wind’ard drift…soil spillage, ho urr aye, must a-member that…taken into ’count ee lay of land…h’angle of ’illside…fallen west’ard an’ ’arf point north, Oi’d say. Burr aye, that should do urr noicely, Oi reckern!”

Moving to a point on the trunk directly opposite the hole, he measured two pawspans slightly left. “Cudd Oi burrow ee wepping, zurr?”

Wordlessly, Bosie passed him the sword. At about the height of his snout, Frubb notched a mark in the bark. “Start choppen yurr if’n you’m please!”

They began hewing with both blades at the sycamore. Initially their strokes were a bit disjointed, until Spingo made a suggestion. “Mayhaps if I sing a Gonfelin dancin’ song it’ll keep ye both in time. Right!”

Bosie spat on his paws, gripping the sword tight. “Sing out then, bonny lass, Ah’m game tae try it.”

Frubb clapped his paws in time to the tune as Spingo sang; Bosie’s and Zaran’s bladestrokes matched the rhythm.

Bosie was blowing like a bellows with the pace. “D’ye not know any slower songs, bonny lass, mebbe a soft lullaby, or an auld funeral march!”

Spingo giggled. “Oh, come on, Mister Bosie, a big, strong beast like yourself shouldn’t be bothered by an overgrown twig like that. Let’s see wot ye can really do, with those muscles an’ that blade! Or are ye goin’ t’be beaten by an otter lady, eh?”

The lanky hare went back to his task like a creature possessed. Bark, wood chips, leafsprouts and twigs scattered widespread as he plied the sword blade.

Frubb caught on to what Spingo was doing. He called to Zaran, “Hurr, ee’ll take summ catchin’ marm, boi okey ee’m will!”

The black otter also knew what was going on, but she winked at the mole, and twirled her twin blades. “Do you think so…then watch this!” With muscle and sinew toughened by gruelling seasons of work on the hillside, Zaran was unstoppable. She hewed at the great tree with awesome energy. Soon there was no need of encouraging work songs, Bosie and Zaran were hacking at the tree in swift unison.
Chack! Thock! Chack! Thock!

Frubb watched until he judged the moment right, then called a sudden halt to the task. “Stoppee naow, guddbeasts, stopp Oi says!” After listening with his ear to the sycamore trunk, the mole nodded sagely and made his report. “Hoo arr, she’m ready t’go naow!”

Bosie leant wearily on his sword pommel. “Och, pray tell, sirrah, how d’ye know that?”

Frubb wrinkled his snout, lowering his tone confidentially. “A ’coz ee’m tree told Oi, zurr, stan’ asoide naow. Mizzy, will ee untie ee rope frumm t’uther tree?”

Spingo hurriedly loosed the rope from the oak on the left, as Frubb undid the other rope, which the molecrew had tied during the rescue attempt. He gave Bosie and Zaran a rope each.

“Roight zurr’n’marm, you’m must fasten ee ropes furmly round ee tree. Far oop as ye can reach!” Taking the other ends of both ropes, Frubb bade Spingo to follow him. They went uphill until he judged the distance straight, and just right. “Hurr, bees you’m a gud treeclimberer, mizzy?”

Scooping up some soil, Spingo rubbed it on her paws. “Huh, good, me? You show me the tree wot needs climbin’, then stand clear, matey!”

The mole indicated two wych elms, either side of him. “Farsten wun to each, gudd’n’igh up.”

True to her word, the Gonfelin maid was an agile climber. She scaled both elms with ease, securing the ropes high, one to each tree.

Returning to the sycamore, Frubb outlined to Bosie and Zaran what was an extremely perilous operation. “You’m takes three more chops apiece at ee tree. Then ’urry back up’ill. Climb up yon h’elms, an’ wait moi signal. Then chop ee ropes, get ee daown an’ run furr you’m loives to yon ’illtop!”

Bosie nodded, putting up his sword. “That sounds clear enough, mah friend, but why do we have tae hurry?”

The mole chuckled. “Hurr hurr, ’cos ee h’entire neighbor’ood bees goin’ to cullapse daown ee ’ole, an’ you’m doan’t wants to goo with et, do ee, zurr?”

Bosie appeared quite indignant at the very idea. “Och, Ah should say not, Ah’ve seen enough o’ that reeky auld cavern, thank ye. Right, mah bonny tree-fellin’ friend, three chops apiece, eh!”

The half-dozen blows were promptly delivered, then they clambered uphill to the wych elms and climbed to their positions, blades ready, close to the ropes. Spingo and Frubb carried on upward, until they reached the crest of the vast wooded hill. The mole turned, watching the woodlands at their back.

Spingo whispered, “Wot happens now, mate?”

Frubb did not take his eyes from the panorama below. “We’m wait, mizzy, wait an’ watch east’ard.”

From his wych elm perch, Bosie called across to Zaran in the other tree, “Ah’m glad hares dinnae have tae live in trees. Thanks tae mah mither Ah wasnae born a squirrel.”

The black otter managed one of her rare smiles. “Aye, me, too, I hope our friend gives the signal soon.”

The hungry hare tasted a leaf and spat it out. “Och, there’s no’ even an apple or a pear growin’ up here. Ye‘d think a tree would at least have the decency tae grow a few nuts for a beast tae keep body’n’fur taegether whilst he’s waitin’!”

Frubb saw the distant treetops beginning to wave. He murmured, “Yurr she cumms, mizzy, ee wind we’m a-waiten on!”

In another moment, Spingo felt the breeze sweep over them. It all happened so quickly. Down below the taut ropes thrummed under the easterly wind.