Loamhedge (34 page)

 

Silence reigned over the searing, dusty flatness at high noon. Bragoon led the party, with Saro bringing up the rear.

It was not long before Horty began complaining. “Phew, my ears are roasted, my tongue's parched an' my bally feet are fryin'. My word, it's even too hot to sweat! Walkin' walkin', always flamin' well walkin'. It's the story of m'life, chaps. First I was walkin' up'n'down on a blinkin' logboat, pushin' an oarpole. Now I'm walkin' again through this food'n'drink-forsaken place!”

Saro tugged the hare's tail. “We're all walkin', ole gabby gob. We're walkin' t'bring back somethin' that'll make yore sister Martha walk. So stop moanin' an' keep walkin'.”

The otter glanced over his shoulder, turning his attention on Springald and Fenna. “Ahoy there, you two. Keep yore faces like that an' it'll rain afore long, ye mis'rable pair o' mopes!”

Springald dragged her paws in the dust, replying sulkily.
“There's nothing at all wrong with our faces, thank you. Anyhow, you wouldn't understand.”

Saro piped up from behind. “Why wouldn't we unnerstand?”

Fenna pouted. “ 'Cos you just wouldn't, that's all!”

Horty could not resist smirking. “They're jolly miserable because they've been parted from old Jigger an' his pal, wotsisname, Cuddles! Oh lack a day an' woe are they! I expect your little hearts are breakin', wot?”

Kicking dust at the mocking hare, Fenna shouted, “His name isn't Cuddles, it's Wuddle, and he's far nicer than you, Horty Braebuck. So there!”

Skipping ahead of the two maids, Horty made an elegant leg and bowed with a flourish. “Fie upon you, marm, there's nobeast nicer than the charming I. Not in all the lands, or the river. Not like those two spike-headed water whompers who caterwaul songs like stricken ducks!”

This time it was Springald who kicked dust at Horty. “You vain, pompous, floppy-eared boaster!”

Horty was about to kick dust back, when Bragoon grabbed his ear and tweaked it soundly. “If'n ye value yore ear, then stop embarrassin' those maids, right now! All three of ye are startin' to try my patience. Come on, Spring, cheer up. You, too, Fenn. It won't be long afore ye see those young shrews agin. Quit bein' so mean to each other, an' no more teasin'!”

Horty rubbed at the ear that had been tweaked. “Who, me? I barely uttered a blinkin' word, it was those two who jolly well started it!”

It was Saro's shout that put an end to the bickering. “Look, mates, there's the Bell'n'Badger Rocks!”

Floating above the heat-shimmered distance, the tops of both stone monoliths were just about visible on the horizon.

Fenna's keen eyes confirmed Saro's discovery. “Hooray! You're right, there they are, I can see them!”

Shading her eyes, Springald stood on tippaws. “They look like one of those mirages that Old Phredd told us about. I wonder how far off they are?”

Bragoon squinted over the wasteland haze. “A fair bit yet, but if'n we press on 'til they're in plain sight, I'll call it a day an' we'll make camp. I want to look at those parchments from the Abbey. How does that sound to ye, mates?”

Bragoon and Saro watched the three young ones dashing off ahead, their quarrels all forgotten as they shouted to one another.

Saro scratched her bushy tail. “Ha, lissen to 'em, they're the best o' pals agin!”

Fenna was shouting, “I'm going to set up camp with the cloaks an' staffs. Where are you off to, Horty?”

The young hare had put on a spurt, racing ahead eagerly. “Gangway, m'dears, I'm your cook this evenin'. Had lots of valuable experience, y'know. Oh yes, a chap learns a thing or three from those shrew coves, wot!”

Springald kept pace with Fenna. “I want to help Brag and Saro to study those parchments.”

Bragoon and Saro followed the young ones at a steady
lope. “Looks like we've lost command o' the quest, mate. Can ye see those rocks clearly yet?”

The squirrel looked up. “Not quite, but it won't be long now.”

It turned out that the three front-runners were forced to halt quicker than expected. Horty ground to a stop in a cloud of dust. “By the left, right, an' knock me blinkin' sideways! How in the name of onion soup do we get across that bloomin' thing? Looks like the end o' the flamin' earth, wot!”

Fenna and Springald joined him, gasping in disbelief at the awesome spectacle that confronted them.

“Whew! No wonder it's called the great gorge!”

“Good grief, it must be miles down to the bottom!”

Bragoon and Saro arrived on the scene. The otter ventured a glance down into the black chasm. “If'n ye fell down there, that'd be the last anybeast'd see of ye, eh mate?”

Saro, however, was more concerned with the width of the gorge. “Hmm, that's a wide ole canyon! Don't matter 'ow deep 'tis, we've got to think 'ow were goin' to cross it. Any ideas?”

Food was the only idea Horty gave priority to. “Let's get a fire goin' an' we can figure it all out over a jolly good scoff. How's that for a scheme, wot?”

The otter shook his head. “This is strange country, mate. I don't feel too easy wid the thought of a fire. Pitch the camp an' see wot ye can make from the packs, Horty. I'll go off t'the right along the rim. Spring, you come wid me. Saro, you take the left edge. Fenna'll go wid ye.”

They set off, with Horty issuing dire warnings. “You chaps get back here before dusk, or I'll whomp up somethin' absolutely delicious an' eat it myself!”

Saro glanced across the gorge as she and Fenna explored along the edge of the precipice. “Those two big rocks are plain t'see now, they mustn't be more than a couple o' slingshot distances from the other side. We're so near, yet so far, eh Fenn?”

The squirrelmaid had noticed something down in the chasm. Suddenly her voice became shrill with excitement. “There, that's how we'll get across, come and see!”

Saro lay flat on the edge, staring down at the solution to
their problem. “Well spotted, young 'un. I almost walked right by an' missed that. Let's go an' tell the others!”

Horty had created a fruit salad from the rations, with elderflower and dandelion cordial to go with it.

They sat eating as Saro reported, “There's a tree trunk spannin' the gorge down that way, Fenna spotted it. About the height o' Redwall Abbey's battlement, down it lies. I don't know where it came from or whatbeast put it there, but it bridges the gap alright. 'Tis the longest trunk I've ever seen, lodged twixt a crack on one side an' a narrow ledge on the other. I think we should be able to get down to it on the rope that Cosbro, the old rabbit, gave us.”

Bragoon gathered up the parchments he was about to study. “Let's go an' take a look at it.”

The spot where the tree trunk lay was directly in line with the two rocks across the gorge. Bragoon was thinking hard as he gazed down at the long, old span of timber that bridged the chasm.

Springald watched him as he studied the whole thing—the twin rocks, and the tree trunk wedged inside the gorge. “You know something about this, don't you?”

The otter spread the map he had brought from Redwall. “See here, this is the Bell an' the Badger Rocks. Now this spot is where the Lord o' Mossflower once stood. Ole Briggy said that it was a large tree, which had fallen down long ago. I reckon that tree trunk down there is the one that's marked on the map. After it fell down, some creatures must've rolled it into the gorge to make a bridge. I wager it took a lot o' beasts t'do the job, but they didn't know they was doin' us a favour when they took on the task. Is that rope long enough, matey?”

Saro, who had fetched Cosbro's rope along with her, dangled its length over the side. “Aye, it falls a bit short o' the trunk, but it'll do.”

Satisfied, the otter issued orders. “You three young 'uns, go back an' break camp. Fetch everythin' back 'ere with ye. Make as little noise as possible. There's somethin' about this area I don't like. It might be only a feelin', but I'm takin' no chances. Saro, me'n you'll rig this rope up. Remember now, be quiet!”

Horty and the two maids did not take long to pack the gear and break camp. Returning to the spot, they found that Bragoon had broken his staff in two pieces and driven them into a crack near the rim. Saro tested the rope she had tied around the wood. Without further ado, she went silently and skilfully down, using her footpaws on the rock walls for balance. She dropped lightly onto the trunk and twirled her tail several times as a signal that everything was alright. One by one they descended into the dark quiet chasm, Bragoon being last to go.

The five travellers perched precariously on the tree trunk. Saro gave the rope a swift upward flick, bringing it down with them.

Horty peered across the gorge nervously. “I say, Brag old scout, we could do with a torch to light us over this thing, it looks jolly dangerous t'me, wot?”

The otter glared at him. “Ssshhh, don't talk, yore voice echoes off the side down 'ere!”

Saro knotted herself and the others into a line, with herself at the front and Bragoon at the rear. Getting down on all fours, the five creatures inched out onto the long trunk. It seemed like an eternity, crawling over the wide expanse with nothing beneath them but empty space and total blackness. Sometimes the big log quivered, as one of them stumbled. At moments like this, they crouched there still, until Saro moved forward again.

Bragoon emitted a hushed sigh of relief when they finally made it onto the ledge at the far side. Fenna peered into the gloom, looking fearfully at Saro. The squirrel saw three black holes, which looked like entrances, in the rock face. She nodded and placed a paw to her lips in a gesture of silence. Untying her four friends from the rope, she coiled it about her waist and began climbing up the other side of the gorge. They watched her ascending the rock face with all the grace of a born squirrel climber. Bragoon kept casting anxious glances toward the three dark, forbidding entrances, but no signs of life showed there.

Saro made it to the top in good time. Finding a convenient boulder, she tied a knot about it and lowered the rope to
her companions. As they began the upward climb, the otter was still keeping a weather eye upon the dark holes.

Once all five travellers were safely together on the top of the far side, Horty laughed out loud. “Hawhawhaw! Well, chaps, that's that! I suppose it's alright for one t'make sounds now. It's almost as bad as bein' hungry, for a brilliant speaker like me not being able to flippin' well talk. Absolute torture, wot!”

Bragoon could not help smiling at the young hare. “Go on, mate, talk away, even sing if'n ye like.”

Ever willing to oblige, the garrulous hare burst into song.

 

“Oh it ain't much fun, when you must keep mum,

an' they tell you not to speak,

standin' about with a tight-shut mouth,

an' your tongue stuck in your cheek,

'cos being silent, makes me violent,

I want to roar an' shout,

Wheehooh! Yahboo! I'm tellin' you,

I've lots to talk about!

Hello good day, how are you, say,

the sky went dark last night,

but it got bright this morning,

so things turned out alright.

Well there might be rain, but then again,

we'll face the storm together,

in wind or snow, oh don't y'know,

let's talk about the weather!

Wheehooh! Yahboo! I'm tellin' you,

I'll whisper, yell or shout,

I'll natter'n'blab, or chatter'n'gab,

I've lots to talk about!”

 

Saro cast her eyes to the darkening evening sky and sighed. “We'd better stop for supper soon. That's the only time Horty goes quiet, when he's eatin'.”

Bragoon watched fondly as the young hare did some fancy high kicks and ear twiddling. “Aye, that rascal's like a weed on a wall, he grows on ye. I'll say this, though—Horty's
becomin' a first-rate cook, I like 'is vittles. We'll go as far as the Bell an' the Badgers Rocks afore night comes. I think we could even risk a liddle cookin' fire. Let ole Horty create us one of his masterpieces. Come on, mate, it ain't more'n a mile or two now.”

As the laughter and banter of the questers receded into the gathering eventide, a stillness fell over the wasteland.

 

Three faint screams echoed into the unfathomed depths of great gorge. On the ledge where the tree trunk bridged the space, several cloaked figures turned and padded silently into the three dark holes. These were passages, which led into a single hall-like cavern. The creatures from outside joined masses of others, similar to themselves. A myriad of glittering eyes were riveted on a ledge, where burned a sulphurous, yellow-green column of flame. A huge hunched beast, enveloped in a flowing cloak, stood with its back to them, facing the flame. It turned slowly. Not daring to look upon it, everybeast lay down prostrate, faces to the floor. A concerted moan arose from the masses.

“Mighty Kharanjul, Master of the Abyss! Great Slayer, in whose veins runs the blood of Wearets! Lord of Life and Death! We live only to serve thee!”

The cloak swept back to reveal Kharanjul. He was a gargantuan creature, a primitive and hideous mutation—something between a ferret and a weasel. With neither ears nor any semblance of a neck, his brutal head perched straight onto his hulking shoulders. When he spoke, his voice was a gurgling hiss, forced from between curving, discoloured fangs.

“Where are the three guards who were sleeping at their posts when strangers entered my gorge?”

One of the creatures, who had recently entered the cavern, raised his face and cried out in a reedy voice. “Lord, they are still falling into the chasm. They felt themselves too unworthy to face thy wrath, O Great Slayer!”

Kharanjul picked up a big iron trident. He ran his long misshapen claws across the weapon's three barbed points. “Nobeast has ever trespassed in my domain and lived to see the sunset that day. Ye will not fail me again, ye spawn of darkness. If those intruders set paw within a league of my
gorge, to return whence they came, ye will let me know of it without fail. Double the guards both night and day. If the interlopers are caught, their suffering will be great. They will plead to be cast into the abyss of eternity. I have spoken!”

Still facedown, the masses chanted their reply. “We hear and obey, O Mighty Kharanjul, Great Wearet Lord!”