Eulalia! (32 page)

With his chin anchored firmly on the branch, Rangval spoke through his clenched teeth. “Ye'll pardon me askin', marm, but wot happens if it don't?”

Orkwil growled. “Then we'll just bounce up'n'down 'til it does. Wot then, miss?”

“Then you two take the broken ends an' set about 'em. Rangval, you take the stoat, Orkwil, you tackle the smallest of the two weasels. Leave the one they call Ruglat to me, I owe him one or two good 'uns! Ready? Right chaps, here goes. One…two…three. Jump!”

The vermin heard the crack, and saw the three prisoners leap in the air again. Ruglat grabbed his spear, bounding upright. “Ahoy, wot's goin' on dere?” He and his fellow guards came running. There was another crack as Maudie shouted exultantly.

“One more'll do it, buckoes! One, two, three, jump!”

This time the branch snapped, right through the centre. The three friends sat down hard on the ground with the impact. Scrabbling furiously, they rid themselves of their bonds, leaping up to meet their foes.

Saltear had a dagger in either paw, he dashed toward the trio, but was stopped in his tracks by Rangval. The rogue squirrel swung his half of the branch, catching the stoat a terrific blow to the side of his neck. Saltear died with an expression of shock on his face, with his neck tilted at an odd angle.

Undril dodged Orkwil's first attempt, he dragged a small cutlass out so forcefully that it severed his belt on leaving, which caused his pantaloons to fall down around his footpaws. He tripped and fell. That was all Orkwil needed, and he took full advantage.

Whack! Splat! Thud! Smack!

Orkwil battered away like a madbeast in a frenzy, screaming and yelling as he belaboured his fallen enemy.

Maudie dodged Ruglat's first three spear thrusts with contemptuous grace. On his fourth try at slaying her, she winded him, with a swift left to the gut. Knocking the spear from the big weasel's grasp, she challenged him. “C'mon, barrelbottom, let's see what you're made of, wot!”

Ruglat stayed down a moment, gaining his breath, then he jumped up, grinning viciously as he charged her with clenched paws and bared teeth. “Yew asked fer dis, rabbet!”

She merely swayed to one side, pummelling his head as he blundered by her. Maudie booted his rump, sending him sprawling. She stood over him, waiting. “Rabbit yourself, you overblown sloptub. C'mon, up you come, I'm not jolly well finished with you yet, laddie buck, you've got a lesson to learn, wot, wot!”

Ruglat threw himself at her, screeching with rage. Maudie feinted with a left, then delivered three rights, one to each eye, and a real stinger to the snout. Dropping into a crouch, she punished the weasel's stomach and ribs with a veritable tattoo.

Suddenly Ruglat could take no more, he lurched off to one side and grabbed his spear, snarling through battered lips, “Stay back, back! Foller me an' I'll gut ye!” He turned and ran, but Orkwil's outstretched footpaw stopped his headlong flight, quite by accident. The weasel tripped, and fell onto his own spearpoint.

Rangval threw a paw to his brow in amazement. “Ah, now haven't we got a grand ould warrior here? Shure he's polished off two vermin without even tryin'!”

Orkwil had sat down, dropping his piece of branch. Never having slain a living creature before, he was obviously in shock, hardly listening as Rangval carried on joking about the fight with the vermin.

“One vermin apiece, that was Miss Maudie's plan, but you had to have two. Haharr, you greedy liddle hog, where'd you learn to trip a vermin, at the same time ye were pulverisin' his pal, eh?”

Shaking her head, Maudie silenced the rogue squirrel with a severe glance. She had witnessed battle shock in several young Long Patrol hares, during their first encounter with the foebeast. It was not a thing to joke about. The sympathetic haremaid sat down beside her young hedgehog friend, giving him the benefit of her experience, he was younger than both she and Rangval. “Well, you're a warrior now, Orkwil, how does it feel, pretty awful I expect, havin' to kill or be killed, wot?”

Orkwil stared at her, a mixture of bewilderment and guilt in his eyes. “I feel terrible, did you feel like that when it first happened to you, marm?”

Maudie felt older, at being addressed as “marm,” but she merely nodded, and patted his paw. “Blubbed my eyes out, actually, but old Sergeant Brassjaw soon straightened me out. Told me that if I were a mother with a few babes, or an old 'un, who was too weak to defend himself, I'd be thankin' the warriors. Aye, those who made the land safe for them to sleep in their beds, without fear of bein' left murdered in a blazin' homestead. You just think of what those vermin were plannin' for us, laddie buck!”

Orkwil stared at both dead Sea Raiders for a moment, then he spoke out indignantly. “Aye, they were goin' to roast an' skin us, right in front of the Abbey gates. Well, there's three vermin won't be doin' any more roastin' an' skinnin'!”

Retrieving his daggers, Rangval joined the pair. “Come on, mates, we don't want to be found hangin' about here if'n the ould fox comes back. Now, the second part of our plan has been thought up by meself. So, let's get ourselves rigged out in those vermins' rags.”

Maudie and Orkwil spoke in unison. “What for?”

The rogue squirrel sheathed his daggers. “By me grannie's moustache, I can see you two wouldn't be much good as rogues. Suppose we runs into that vermin crew agin, eh, or the other mob, the Brownrats? Wouldn't it be far better if'n we looked as though we were villains like them? A spot o' disguise an' cammyflage never hurt anybeast, right?”

Maudie began divesting the carcass of Ruglat of its tatty finery, baggy blouse, ragged breeches, and a grubby turban. “Super wheeze, old lad. Come on, young Orkwil, get y'self geared up. We've got to go and see what all the hullabaloo over yonder's about, wot. Much better t'go in mufti. Well, how do I look, just call me maraudin' Maudie, chaps!”

Orkwil took a fit of giggling at the sight. Maudie had bound her long ears into the turban, and was rubbing mud over her face. She scowled at him.

“Haharr, one more titter out o' yew, landlubber, an' I'll gut yore mainstays an' keelwallop yore vitals, or whatever it is those seagoin' chaps say!”

Rangval had tied up his bushy tail into the back of Saltear's tawdry frock coat. He donned the stoat's floppy seaboots and slouch hat, then danced a comic jig. “Shiver me drawers an' drop me anchor, 'tis meself, ould Rangval the Rover. Hoho, an' who's this bully?”

Getting into the spirit of things, Orkwil had put on Undril's broad, brass-buckled belt, canvas kilt, striped waistcoat and fringed headband. He brandished the weasel's long knife, snarling. “Ahoy, I'm Orkwil the 'Orrible Outlaw! Rot me timbers, mateys, where are we bound? Haharr, hoho an' heehee!”

Rangval suddenly went serious. “Enough o' this foolin' about, now. We keep our heads down, an' keep ourselves to ourselves. Stick together an' look out for one another. Right, let's march!”

Evening shades were lengthening the shadows, the sun was washing the western horizon in scarlet as the three friends arrived at their destination. Sounds of warfare marred the closing of the summer day as Maudie surveyed the high sandstone plateau from the bushes some distance away.

Orkwil was behind the haremaid, jumping up and down. “I can't see properly from here, what's goin' on?”

Maudie stood on tip-paw, straining to find out. “I'm not sure, 'fraid I can't see all I'd like to. Mayhaps we'd do better if we got a bit closer, wot.”

Rangval kicked off his floppy seaboots. “No sense in runnin' right into trouble. Stay here, mates, I'll climb that ould beech over yonder. From the top o' there I should get a fair view o' things.” The rogue squirrel was an expert climber, he scaled up into the top heights of the beech. Perching among the swaying foliage, he called down to his friends, who were at the base of the wide trunk, “Maudie, it's yore badger, the bigbeast, Gorath, an' another badger I ain't seen afore, smaller, could be a maid, they're defendin' the top o' those rocks alone.”

Maudie wished she could climb the tree to see properly what was taking place. She called back to Rangval, “I can hear lots of noise, who is it they're fighting?”

Rangval climbed even higher before answering. “Shure, I can't see, but whoever it is, they're on the far side of those rocks. But I can hear a bit better up here, sounds like Kurdly's horde t'me. Oh no, they're really in trouble now, I can see the fox an' his crew, they're sneakin' up the back slopes o' the rocks. If'n they reaches the top they'll come up behind the badgers. Somebeast needs to warn 'em, quick!”

Maudie shot off toward the scene. Stopping short of the rocks, she looked up and saw Vizka and his vermin, almost halfway up. Throwing back her head, she sucked in a deep breath and gave out full blast with the Salamandastron war cry, several times. “Eulaliiiaaaa! Eulaliiiiaaaa! Eulaliiiiiaaaaa!”

From his vantage point, Rangval saw the big badger turn and run to the rear of the plateau. The warning had reached him in time. He began hurling rocks down at the
Bludgullet
crew. Vizka's vermin were spread out too wide for the missiles to wreak much damage, but they had the effect of stopping them in their upward climb.

Rangval came bounding down to earth, where Orkwil was awaiting him. Seizing the young hedgehog's paw, the squirrel raced off, panting as he explained. “Those badgers are bein' attacked from both sides, they ain't goin' to last long unless somebeast gets up to that flat hilltop an' helps 'em!”

As they neared the base of the rocks, Maudie signalled them from her cover in the bushes. “Over here, chaps!”

They joined her speedily, but there was no time for talking. Maudie held up her paw for silence. Rustling among the bushes and the sounds of vermin voices warned them that the area was being searched.

“Why ain't we serposed ta kill 'em?”

“'Cos der cap'n wants ta see who it was dat shouted der warnin' to dem stripe'ounds.”

“Garr, we should be able ta jus' gut 'em!”

“Yew do dat, an der cap'n'll gut yew, now belt up an' git lookin'!”

The searchers were almost upon them, when Maudie had an idea. She whispered to her two companions, “I've just thought of a wheeze, chaps, follow me an' play along, we're sea vermin, remember.” She began thrashing the bushes with her spear, giving a passable imitation as one of the
Bludgullet
's crew. “Nah, I don't see nobeast round 'ere, 'ave yew spotted 'em yet, Grubsnout?”

Catching on quickly, Rangval snarled, “Dis is daft, bucko, dey wuddent 'ang around 'ere after shoutin out a warnin'. Woddya t'ink, Bloogle?”

Realising the remark was aimed at him, Orkwil acquitted himself well as he replied, “We ain't supposed ter t'ink, dat's Cap'n Vizka's job. Cap'n sez search, so we search. I says we try annuder place, mebbe up dere.”

The stoat Bilger joined them. “Duh, I'll come wid ya, mates!”

Even though the night had fallen, Rangval caught Orkwil's look of alarm, as Bilger threw a paw about the young hedgehog's shoulders. He was about to act when Maudie stepped in. She tapped the stoat's back, warning him. “Watch out fer dat branch, bucko!”

The stoat turned, presenting the side of his jaw as a perfect target. “Duh, wot branch is dat?”

The haremaid's clenched right paw shot out. “Dat one! Huh, don't say I diddent warn ya!”

The weasel, Jungo, who was as dull-witted as Bilger, saw him fall. He hurried over to Bilger's side. “Bilge, are ya 'urted, mate?”

Emboldened by Maudie's swift solution, Orkwil scoffed at Jungo. “Walked inter a branch an' knocked hisself out cold. Huh, fancy sendin' dat t'ickhead out ta look fer somebeast, 'e cuddent find 'is tail iffen it wasn't anchored to 'is be'ind!”

Jungo found the remark quite hilarious. “Hahawhawhaw! Dat's a good 'un, tail anchored to 'is be'ind. Hawhawahaw! I must remember dat 'un!”

Trying not to draw further attention to themselves, the three friends ducked off, making their way uphill. Rangval went slightly ahead of the other two, being a swift and skilled climber, he soon made his way to the lip of the plateau. The rogue squirrel was halfway over the edge, when he saw Gorath striding toward him, brandishing his huge pitchfork, Tung.

Whipping off his floppy hat, Rangval hastily identified himself. “Go easy with that thing, sir, me'n me pals have come from Redwall Abbey to help ye. My name's Rangval.” He shook off the tawdry frock coat, displaying his bushy tail.

Reversing the fork, Gorath proffered the handle. Rangval grasped it and was hauled up alongside the big, young badger.

Maudie's voice rang out from below. “I say, old sport, could you lend me a paw, too, wot?” In an instant she, too, was pulled up onto the plateau.

A moment of silence went by, then Rangval looked at her. “Where's Orkwil?”

The haremaid shrugged uneasily. “He's with you, isn't he?”

The rogue squirrel shook his head. “No, I thought he was with you?”

“Gorath! Heeeelp!” It was Salixa, the Brownrats had got past her, there were nearly a score of them on the plateau. The three defenders were forced to forget Orkwil for that moment. They charged headlong at the Brownrats, who were trying to hem Salixa in, and cut her off from Gorath.

 

Throughout his pursuit of Gorath, Stringle had been constantly sending runners back, these were to report the horde's progress, keeping Gruntan Kurdly up-to-date on the hunt. The Brownrat chief took these messages one of two ways, either with bored disinterest or bad-tempered criticism. Gruntan was, as per usual, more concerned with his desire for food, specifically eggs. The hulking Brownrat leader considered himself to be a connoisseur, and an expert on the subject.

The latest messenger, a large, sleek-limbed female named Skruttle, was forced to stand and wait before submitting her report. Nobeast talked whilst Gruntan was speaking. At that moment he had an audience of young rats, and was holding forth to them on his favourite topic.

“Oh, aye, mates, I've et 'em all, every kind of egg knowed to bird or beast. From gooses to wrens, an' everyone atween. Seagulls, plovers, pigeons, thrush, starlin's, sparrers, rooks or cuckoos, you name 'em, I've boiled 'em!”

Gruntan could see Skruttle waiting, but he ignored her in favour of a young Brownrat, who piped up, “Do ye always boil yore eggs, Chief?”

Gruntan's formidable stomach wobbled as he chuckled. “Thud'n'blunder, wot other way is there, young 'un? Ye can take it from me, once an egg's boiled it's perfect. The only way it can be spoilt is by a lousy peeler, some dumblepawed idjit who can't take the shell off'n an 'ard-boiled egg proper!” He scowled darkly at the older Brownrats, his servants. “Aye, an' there's enough of those round 'ere….” He turned his attention to the runner. “Haharr, an'wot sorta bad news is Stringle sendin' me? Don't stan' there like a slug in a slopbasin, make yore report!”

Skruttle narrated the message. “Cap'n Stringle sez to tell you that he's got the giant stripe'ound surrounded, atop of a stone 'ill. But 'e sez there's two stripe'ounds now, the big 'un an' a smaller one, prob'ly a maid.” She paused awkwardly, shuffling her paws. “So that's wot Cap'n Stringle told me to tell ye, Boss, we've got the stripe'ounds surrounded.”

Gruntan cut in on the messenger. “Where's this stone 'ill where they're at?”

Skruttle gestured with her tail. “Up north in the woodlands, 'bout a quarter day's march. Cap'n Stringle's waitin' on yore orders, Boss.”

Gruntan heaved a snort of irritation. “Don't tell me, the great Cap'n Stringle's waitin' on me to come an' do the job for 'im. Well, ain't 'e?”

Skruttle nodded dumbly.

Gruntan climbed laboriously onto his litter seat, calling orders to his bearers. “Up off'n yore hunkers, ye layabouts! Break camp, we're movin' north. Stay outta that ditch, cut off around the Abbey an' go that way. Ahoy, you young 'uns, d'ye want a job?”

The young Brownrats stood to attention eagerly.

Gruntan called his old ratwife healer, Laggle. “Keep an eye on them, stay ahead o' me litter. See if'n ye can scout out any fresh eggs, there's none left in this neighbour'ood. Mind, I only wants good, big eggs, don't go bringin' me no wren or robin eggs. Go on, off with ye, I'll be followin', keep goin' north.”

 

Back in the woodlands around the sandstone plateau, Stringle's fortunes had changed for the worse. Instead of being the hunter, he now found that his horde was being attacked by a tribe of vengeful Guosim. Log a Log Osbil's shrew warriors came hurtling out of the trees, yelling their battle cries as they hit the Brownrats' rear ranks. Stringle was forced to turn and fight, leaving those attacking the plateau to their own devices. The Guosim fought like madbeasts, any Brownrat they seized was shown no quarter. Within a very short time they slew more than a score of the vermin. Guosim rapiers flashed in the dawnlight as Osbil and his tribe sent fear into the hearts of the foe while they started up a Bladechant.

On top of the plateau, Gorath and his three compatriots had repelled the Brownrats who had come over the edge. Working together, they beat the vermin back, though it was the young badger, armed with Tung, his weapon, who was carrying the fight. He was indeed an awesome sight, roaring forth his battlecry, swinging the pitchfork like a mighty flail.

Maudie was in top form. Avoiding spears and crude blades, she was lashing out with all paws, sending foebeasts skittling over the rim, though several times the haremaid was almost struck by Gorath sweeping his weapon in wide arcs. Ducking Tung repeatedly, Maudie found herself appealing to Salixa, who was swinging a loaded sling further along. “Er, I hope you don't mind me sayin', old gel, but couldn't you have a blinkin' word with your chum? He'll sweep us all over the edge if he ain't careful. Oh, beg pardon a tick—” She broke off to deliver a walloping left to a Brownrat, sending him hurtling into space. Another came dashing up, wielding a spear. Before he could use it, the vermin was felled by one of Rangval's daggers. Maudie waggled her ears at the rogue squirrel. “Thanks terribly, I can't abide spear thrusters.”

Rangval grinned as he bent to retrieve his blade. “Sure, think nothin' of it, miss—” As he stood upright the stock of Gorath's pitchfork swung too close, felling the squirrel.

Maudie wagged a paw at Salixa. “You see, I told you he was going to jolly well hurt one of us, swingin' that thing about!” Maudie helped Rangval up, rubbing the back of his head. “I say, old lad, are you alright? Still with us, wot?”

The rogue squirrel smiled crookedly. “Oh, I think I'll live, as long as the big feller doesn't give me another swipe!”

Salixa ducked and dodged until she was at Gorath's side. “You're not feeling an attack of Bloodwrath, are you?”

The young badger looked a bit pink about the eyes, but he stopped swinging briefly. “No, I've got it under control, Salixa, why, is anything wrong?”

She squeezed his paw reassuringly. “No, but watch out for your friends when you swing Tung around, you just hit poor Rangval.”