[Redwall 18] - High Rhulain (12 page)

“We won't let anythin' bad happen to ye, marm. Don't fret,'twill only upset the little 'uns.”

Big Kolun Galedeep had gathered a crew of paw-picked otters: Streamdivers, Streambattles, Wavedogs and some of his own clan, about fifty in all. They were armed with light javelins, which had fire-hardened tips, and slings, with a few blades in evidence, but these were in short supply. They marched stealthily, with Kolun and his brother Lorgo leading them, to the thick tussocks of reed and rush on the south quarter of the lakeshore. Leatho was nowhere to be seen. They lay low and silent on Kolun's orders.

They had not waited long when a telltale ripple on the lake surface came toward their hiding place. Banya Streamdog, a lithe ottermaid noted for her aquatic skills, pointed. “Lookit, here comes the very buckoe himself!”

Without a single splash, the Shellhound bounded out of the water into the rushes. He nodded a greeting to the crew before addressing Kolun. “Memsy was right, mate. I got up as close to the pier as I could without bein' spotted. Sure enough, that hellcat Felis has got Whulky an' Chab, an' their families, too. They're bound to the supportin' posts. There was no sign o' Felis about, but there's enough catguards standin' sentry an' patrollin' all around the area. Ye picked a fit-lookin' crew there, Kolun. Well done!”

The big otter's craggy face looked grim. He tightened his grip on the oar he had brought along. “Just give the word, mate, an' we'll storm 'em. There'll be fur an' catmeat flyin' everywhere!”

Leatho patted his friend's powerful shoulder. “Take it easy, buckoe! There's far too many of 'em, we'd be slaughtered. Felis ain't planned anythin' for them otters 'til tomorrow morn. The way I sees it, there's no point in us makin' a move afore dusk. That gives me time aplenty to tell ye the plan I've hatched. Now lissen careful. We'll free our friends, but this is wot ye must do!”

 

The long, hot morning rolled on into noontide, with the far lake margins shimmering and the surface lying still as a sheet of glass. With his aide Atunra in tow, the warlord emerged from the fortress onto the pier. He sat beneath his awning, enjoying the shade. Of late, he had shunned the dog days of summer; the chain mail mask could get uncomfortably hot in constant direct sunlight. Groodl came out and joined his catguards to watch the prisoners.

Atunra went over and had a brief exchange with the scorecat, returning to inform the warlord, “The otterslaves have still not spoken, Master.”

Riggu appeared unconcerned. “Then that is their bad fortune. Tomorrow I will use them as an example to the other slaves. Spectacles like that always keep our otters aware of their position. What's a few slavebeasts to me? The hardestlearned lessons are always the most effective.”

The wildcat's reflections were rudely interrupted by the sounds of yowling, screeching and clattering from within the fortress. Riggu sank his claws into the velvet-covered chair arms. He waited a while, but still the din did not subside.

From between clenched teeth, he issued an order to Atunra. “Take those guards with you. Go in there and bring those sons of mine out here to me! Drag them out here if ye have to! Enough is enough, I'll put an end to all this spitting and snarling!”

Flanked by catguards, the two young cats were marched out to stand before their father. As usual, Jeefra was blubbering and Pitru scowling.

Jeefra began complaining tearfully to Riggu. “He said that when we go to Deeplough, he's going to push me in so the monster can eat me, and he said that he's going to. . . .”

A growling noise that had been welling up in the warlord suddenly exploded, cutting Jeefra short. “Yahaaarg! Shut . . . up!”

Jeefra was totally silenced by the vehemence of his father. Slowly Riggu Felis stood. He prowled about the pair in a circle, his voice dripping contempt.

“My sons, eh? A whining coward and an impertinent bully! You are a disgrace and a shame to the name Felis. I curse the day you were spawned, both of ye!”

He ceased prowling and stood facing them, eye to eye. A cold smile stole across the eyes above the half-mask. “Well, my spoilt little kittens, it all ends right here. Your growing up starts today.”

Riggu called to Groodl, who was watching from a short distance, “You there, attend me!”

Groodl marched smartly up, presenting his spear in salute. The warlord appeared to ignore him, speaking instead to Atunra. “Tell me about this one.”

The pine marten replied. “Master, he is Groodl, one of Weilmark Scaut's scorecats.”

Riggu looked Groodl up and down critically. “A scorecat, eh? And do you instill rigid discipline into your guards with that willow cane you carry beside your spear?”

The mean-featured feral cat rapped out tersely, “I never gives an order twice, Lord. When I gives the word, they jumps to it, sharpish!”

Riggu Felis nodded approvingly. “Good, I like that. Well, scorecat, you have two new recruits in your troop as of now. Take these two useless objects out of my sight. See if you can knock them into shape. Have them fitted out as the lowest of your guards.”

He paused, watching the effect upon his sons. Jeefra looked stunned with shock, but Pitru narrowed his eyes lazily and gave a scornful snort. Riggu continued. “Show them no favours and cut them no slack. Use that willow cane on both of them. Let the order be lots of chores, little sleep and plenty of guard duty. Understood?”

Keeping his eyes straight ahead, Groodl swished the willow. “Understood, Lord. Do I bring 'em back to you an' their mother every night?”

The chain mail tinkled as the warlord shook his head. “No no, let them live in the barracks with the other guards. If Lady Kaltag asks to see them, send her to me.”

Jeefra fell down weeping as he grovelled at his father's footpaws. “Please, Father, I beg you, don't do this to me! Don't send me to the barracks! I swear I'll change, no more quarrelling or arguing anymore. Mercy, please!”

Riggu Felis turned his face away, nodding to Groodl. “You've had your orders, take them away.”

Jeefra had to be carried bodily between four guards, wailing and sobbing brokenly. Pitru did not resist; he merely sneered at his father. “I still have lots of seasons before me, but you're growing older. I can wait, you'll see.”

Ignoring Groodl, he sauntered off toward the barracks. The wildcat chieftain was silent a moment, then pointed at Pitru's receding back.

“Atunra, mark him well. That one will grow to be a dangerous beast someday.”

The pine marten bowed. “Just as you were at his age, Master.”

The chain mail half-mask sucked inward briefly. “Aye, that's what troubles me.”

 

Sunset's crimson curtain faded to dusk, merging into restful darkness. Lights appeared at the fortress turret slits. Two sentry fires burned bright, one to the left of the pier, the other to the right side. Held between the otterwives, Chab's young ones were sleeping.

Banya Streamdog and six sturdy otters emerged from the waters beneath the pier, firelight playing off their sleek backs as they moved like night shades, with scarcely a ripple to betray their presence. Holding a paw to her lips, Banya made for the otterwives, whispering to them, “Wait and be ready when Lorgo gives the signal!”

Hope surged through Whulky and Chab as the tall, sinewy Lorgo Galedeep surfaced alongside them. “Stay put, mates. Ye can't make a move until the action starts. Chab, don't fret, bhoyo, I've brought some champion riverdogs to git yore babies away safe.”

Leatho Shellhound, accompanied by a dozen armed otters, stole from the lake, a short way from the left side of the pier. Directing them by signals, he sent his warriors in a long arc around to the darkness behind the fire. The outlaw set a stone to his sling and waited. Soon he was rewarded by the call of a nightjar from the right side of the pier. Big Kolun and his band had surfaced and were in position. Leatho whirled his sling, aiming at the backside of a catguard who was leaning on his spear close to the fire.

It was a perfect shot: The stone struck its target, not slaying the cat but creating the desired effect. Arching his back and yowling in pain, the catguard stumbled into the flames at the fire's edge. His companions swiftly hauled him back, shouting out in confusion.

“That was a slingstone! What's goin' on?”

“Somebeast's out there, look!”

The outlaw ran forward, whirling his sling as he yelled out a challenge. “Yerra, ye mangy scum, the Shellhound's a-comin'!”

Guards jumped down from the pier to join the others. They advanced on Leatho cautiously, wondering if he had brought clanbeasts with him. The outlaw bolstered their confidence: He slung off a few more stones, carefully calculated to miss them. Roaring with laughter, he danced a jig on the lakeshore, then scampered off into the water.

One of the scorecats urged the rest forward, shouting to them, “It's a single otter. Mad fool, what's he up to? Get him!”

They charged forward but halted at the water's edge. Aware that the cats were fearful of water, Leatho swam out a short way, then commenced taunting them.

“Come on, ye mangy-tailed cowards! Scared o' gettin' yore paws wet, are ye?”

Spears, lances and arrows were hurled at him. Right at the last moment he submerged, only to pop up again in another place.

“Is that the best ye can do? Send out yore best warrior! Hah, that'd be ole half-face, wouldn't it? I hear he was defeated by a bird—was it a sparrow or a wren?!”

Whilst the diversion was being created, Leatho's crew came out of the firelight and began attacking the catguards' rear. Roused by the commotion, Riggu Felis bounded out onto the pier, single-bladed axe in paw. He was accompanied by Weilmark Scaut, who recognised Leatho's voice. “It's the Shellhound, I've got a score t'settle with that 'un!”

The warlord dropped on all fours, peering through the board spaces to assure himself that the captives were still there, bound to the pier struts. Straightening up, he growled, “Then get down there and take him alive, Scaut. Alive, d'ye hear me? Get some of those otterslave fishing boats and cut him off, encircle him. But remember, I want him alive!”

As the weilmark went off to do his bidding, Riggu Felis turned to Groodl and his guards, who were grouped around the fire on the right lakeshore. “Over here, quick, all of you. Follow Weilmark Scaut!”

Jeefra and Pitru, newly fitted out with helmets, jerkins and spears, were among the group who hurried off to the left.

As soon as the fire on the right was deserted, Big Kolun and his crew emerged from the shadows, thrusting their torches into the flames. Then they began hurling them at the huge timber fortress. Riggu Felis leaped aside as a blazing torch landed on the pier close to him. With his chain mail mask glittering weirdly in the light of the flames, he called urgently to the guards deployed on the left shore.

“Scaut, get your command back over here! They're trying to fire the other side of the fortress!”

The weilmark was loth to leave the outlaw Shellhound uncaptured. He issued swift orders to Groodl. “Scorecat, keep half your cats on shore, send the rest out in the boats. Remember, he must be taken alive. The rest of you, follow me!”

The otters they had been fighting suddenly dispersed into the darkness, leaving Scaut's contingent a free path back. Jeefra and Pitru both wielded paddles in one of the six fishing coracles on the lake. In unexperienced paws, the little craft blundered about as Leatho drew them away in a wild chase.

Once the left shore was clear of guards, the otters came out of the shadows again. Making for the fire, they did exactly as Kolun and his crew had. Igniting more torches from the blaze, they hurled them at the left side of the fortress, causing widespread confusion.

Riggu Felis was screeching hoarsely as he ran hither and thither. “Over here, some of you! Scaut, split your troop, get half of them around to the left side. Hurry!”

Lorgo Galedeep and Banya Streamdog slashed through the captives' bonds. In the chaos which reigned overhead, prisoners were the last thing on any foebeast's mind. Chab's young ones were strapped firmly to the backs of three champion Streambattle swimmers.

Banya and a few of her clanmates surrounded the two otterwives. “Don't forget now, underwater an' straight out. Follow the three carryin' yore little 'uns. They'll take ye over to the right shore. We've spotted a landin' place there that's well away from this lot, quiet an' hidden. Move now, there ain't much time t'waste!”

Lorgo and some of his stalwarts pushed Chab and Whulky after them. “Follow Banya. No need t'look back, we're right behind ye, mateys!”