[Redwall 18] - High Rhulain (25 page)

The outlaw smiled up at the little one. “No, me beauty, that's the place they call Deeplough. Summerdell's much nicer, just the right place for otterbabes.”

Deedero looked away, shuddering. “I should hope it is. Zillo, how much farther to Summerdell?”

The bard pointed inland. “See the rim beyond this 'un? Well, there's a valley covered in woodland with a waterfall runnin' through it. Holt Summerdell's right there, marm, hidden amongst the trees. A grand secret place 'tis.”

Big Kolun picked up a chunk of rock from the crater rim. “Loose stones round the edges, mates, so don't walk too close t'the edge now. One slip an ye'd go straight down that slope into the lough, with nought to save ye. Zillo, how deep would ye reckon that water is?”

Ould Zillo stared at the still waters, far below. “Well now, they say 'tis bottomless. Nobeast has ever plumbed the depths o' Deeplough. Sure, an' who'd be fool enough to try such a thing? Will ye look at it, 'tis smooth as dark glass! Ah, 'tis an evil lough, the home of Slothunog the monster!”

Deedero glared at the bard. “Will ye stop that sort o' talk in front o' the little 'uns? 'Twill frighten the life out of 'em!”

Big Kolun hefted the rock he had picked up. “Take no notice of that ould ballad warbler, me 'eart's delight. Nobeast I ever knowed has seen Slothunog. He's prob'ly just a tale somebeast made up ages ago.”

He flung the rock upward and outward. It plummeted down, missing the sides of the slope, and hit the lough with a booming splash that echoed around the rim. Before the ripples had spread halfway over Deeplough, a monstrous black shape broke the surface, blew up a shower of spray, then plunged beneath the murky waters in pursuit of the rock, probably thinking it was something to eat.

“Blood'n'thunder, did ye see that?” Banya Streamdog leaned over the rim, wide-eyed with shock.

Roughly, Deedero hauled her back. “Come away, missy, an' let's be shut of this awful place!”

She gave Kolun a hard stare. “An' you, ye great lump, wot did ye do that for, eh? Huh, just a tale somebeast made up . . . some tale!”

Even the normally jovial Kolun looked subdued. “Yore right, me ole buttercup, let's git out of here!”

 

Darkness had fallen over the high country by the time the weary travellers made it into the woodlands. Ould Zillo guided them toward the sound of rushing water, warning everybeast to tread carefully. The watersounds increased in volume as the bard and his followers pressed on through the trees. Emerging onto a broad rockledge, Zillo waited until they had all joined him. Then he called out above the roar of the waterfall, “There she is, friends, Holt Summerdell!”

Even in the darkness they could see the magnificent valley. The woodlands were split by the falls, which flowed from the mountains above. Cascading down, the water fell into a pond, spilling over into a broad stream that meandered off down a gentler slope until it was lost amid the woodland trees.

Zillo had to shout to be heard. “Keep in a single file an' follow me along this ledge. Stick close to the side an' hold tight to yore little 'uns. We'll be goin' through the falls, but don't worry, 'tis safe enough.”

He led them a short way along the ledge until it looked as though he could go no further because of the rushing waters of the falls. Turning, the bard grabbed the first two otters in the line. He pushed them straight into the waterfall, shouting, “Get through there. Go on now, keep goin', nobeast ever died of a wet head! Come on, mates, who's next? There's a cave through there—it's good an' dry!”

The families pressed forward, shouting and yelling as they pushed through the noisy curtain of rushing water.

Leatho and the clan chieftains waited until everybeast was safe inside before entering the cave. It was dark but still and dry inside.

Zillo called through the gloom, “Sit down an' wait where ye are. Banya, Birl Gully, Lorgo, bring flints an' tinder. Come forward an' see if'n ye can make it to the back wall!”

After a few moments, the chink of flint against steel set sparks flying in the darkness. Then a faint glow grew into a pale single flame, illuminating Zillo's face.

“There's kindlin' over here—wood, dried grass an' charcoal.”

His words created a burst of activity. Soon fires were flaring in all corners, and a large blaze was blossoming in the centre of what appeared to be a spacious and high-ceilinged cave. Deedero gave a cry of alarm as something dark brushed by her face. Zillo calmed her.

“Ah sure, 'tis only some friendly bats, marm. They won't harm ye.”

The ottermum regained her composure speedily. “Friendly, eh? Well, if these little 'uns don't get some hot vittles an' soft beds soon, it won't be friendly bats ye'll have to watch out for. It'll be me, an' a lot of unfriendly mothers, so let's see some action around this cave!”

A quick meal was cobbled together by willing paws. Soon there were flatcakes baking on hot stones, and a cauldron of thick soup, made from peas, lentils and carrots, bubbling over the main fire. An herbal tea was brewed, and warm cordial was prepared for the young ones. Though there was plenty for everybeast, most of the babes were too tired to eat much. Whulky, Chab and Big Kolun found moss and dead leaves piled by one wall. They spread them in an alcove, covering the lot with cloaks and some blankets. The young ones of the families snuggled up on this communal bed. It was dry, warm and, above all, safe.

Leatho sat by the main fire with Kolun, Banya and the clan chieftains, sipping tea and listening to an ottermum singing to the babes. The everflowing curtain of water outside cast a veined pattern of red-gold moving light, reflected from the fires, around the roughhewn rock walls of the cave.

Chab whispered proudly to nobeast in particular, “That's my missus singin'. She's castin' a sleepin' spell over the babes with that soft voice of hers.”

Big Kolun blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Aye, mate, she's got a pretty way with a tune. I think yore missus's spell is workin' on me.”

Soon they were all dozing off to the ottermum's lullaby.

Warmed by the fireglow, Leatho Shellhound allowed his leaden eyelids to fall for the first time in two days. He dreamed of a mouse warrior who carried a wondrous sword. The visitor from the kingdom of dreams had little to say, but the outlaw sea otter dwelt on his every word:

“Masters who lack slaves cannot serve themselves well, and an empty compound is a trap without bait.”

 

Dawn was casting its rosy tendrils over the hidden valley when Deedero stirred Big Kolun and Leatho from the edge of the whitened embers.

“Rise'n'shine, you two, make way for a workin' otter. Come on, shift yoreselves from under me paws, I've got to liven this fire up t'cook brekkist. Outside with ye both!”

It was not wise to argue with Big Kolun's missus, so they roused themselves fully by breaking through the curtaining waterfall, out onto the ledge. Shaking and stretching, Leatho took stock of their new surroundings. Birdsong in harmony with the sound of the falls echoed around the valley.

Kolun sat on the rim of the ledge, dangling his footpaws over the drop to the pool below. He nodded admiringly. “Ould Zillo picked a prime spot here, mate. Just lookit those veggibles growin' over yonder, an' fruit, too!”

Leatho sat down beside him. “Aye, the stuff's growin' wild now, but I can see it was once laid out in terraces by the clans of long ago. I'll wager some of our mates could knock it back into shape, like it used t'be. There must be fish an' freshwater shrimp in that pool an' the stream below it.”

Kolun stood up. “No wonder otters loved Holt Summerdell. Wot d'ye say me'n'you go an' gather some vittles for brekkist? That'll put a smile on my Deedero's face.”

The outlaw had to smile at his big friend's enthusiasm. “Aye, let's do that, matey, but I can't hang around here all day, no matter how nice it is.”

The big otter shrugged. “Fair enough. Where are we off to?” Leatho winked. “Just followin' a dream.”

Between them, Leatho and Kolun carried a heap of produce they had gathered. Deedero sorted through it. “Apples, pears, leeks, mushrooms an' damsons, too. You mean we've got a damson tree out there?”

Kolun threw his paws wide. “There's more growin' on those terraces than ye could shake a stick at, me ole petal. The damsons ain't quite ripe yet, but there's plums an' all manner o' berries out there. I even seen some ramson an' hotroot bloomin' among the herbs.”

Whulky and Chab entered the cave, carrying a woven reed net they had made.

“We did a spot o' fishin' down in that pond, an' look at wot we got!”

“Freshwater shrimp, the water's swarmin' with 'em, ain't it, Chab?”

“Aye, nobeast's fished 'em for a long time. Did I hear ye mention hotroot, Kolun?”

Lorgo rubbed his paws together gleefully. “I'll go an' get some right now. Er, Deedero, d'ye think there might be some shrimp'n'hotroot soup for brekkist?”

The ottermum wagged a ladle at him. “I might think about it after I've made vittles for the little 'uns, but ye'll have to wait.”

Birl Gully shoved Lorgo toward the water curtain. “Come on, mate, I'll help ye gather the hotroot. Kolun, Leatho, are ye comin' with us?”

The outlaw declined Birl's offer. “No, we've got other business today. But while yore out there gatherin' hotroot, see if there's any ingredients that'll help ye to brew up some o' yore Gullyplug Punch.”

The jolly old otter slapped his rudder down heartily. “Stan' on me whiskers, Shellhound. That's a great idea! I'll brew a big barrel o' Gullyplug to celebrate our new home. C'mon Whulky, Chab, lend a paw. You, too, Zillo, an' you, young Banya.”

They splashed through the water curtain, laughing and shouting, all except Banya. Kolun waved his oar at her.

“Ain't you goin' with 'em, young 'un?”

The tough ottermaid winked knowingly at him. “No, I'm goin' with you an' Leatho. You two are up to somethin', so I'm comin' along with ye.”

Leatho whispered in her ear, “Then ye'd best tread wary, an' come armed, Banya Streamdog, 'cos we ain't goin' pickin' hotroots.”

Smiling grimly, Banya patted her sling and stone pouch. “Somehow I didn't think ye were!”

 

The day was fine and the going was easy. By midmorning they were skirting the rim of Deeplough, with the dark, still waters far beneath them. Striding along either side of Leatho, his two friends listened as he outlined their mission.

“We're bound for the slave compound behind the fortress. We've got to find a way to free the slaves. Once we've got 'em away from Felis, we'll be able to take the offensive against him without worryin' what that villain would do by takin' reprisals an' punishin' our friends.”

They marched onward, discussing their plans, unaware that they were being closely watched.

It was Scorecat Fleng and eight surviving catguards of his command. After being vanquished by the otterclans, they had dashed off willy-nilly into the night, expecting to be pursued and slain. Fleng had pushed his guards hard, not stopping until after dawn. They hid amid some rocks, exhausted, defeated and totally lost. Even when his guards were fit to travel again, Fleng feared returning to the fortress to face Riggu Felis. Despite the fact that the wildcat had deserted him and his patrol, Fleng knew that the warlord would punish him for his failure to stay and do battle with the enemy. So they wandered hither and thither, scavenging for food, uncertain what to do next. They were camped by a stream which ran through a small copse when Fleng suddenly realised where he was. Glancing upward, he recognised the high slopes of the hillside which led up to Deeplough. He was about to remark to his guards about this when he spied the three otters leaving the rim and descending the slope toward them.