Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

The stolid warrior mole did not panic; he was more overcome with curiosity than anything. Reaching down, he grabbed the creature who was clutching him and hauled it up. It was a little molemaid holding a lantern. With a single heave, Axtel lobbed her up into his own tunnel.

Spitting out debris, she nodded. "Hurr, thankee, zurr!"

Axtel eyed her suspiciously. "Yurr, missy, wot bee's you'm doin' daown thurr?"

Gurchen, for it was she, dispensed with long-winded explanations, informing him, "Us'ns got curlapsed in, thurr bee's two uthers a-buried asoide oi. Wudd ee be so koind as to diggen 'em owt, big zurr?"

Axtel took the lantern, hanging it on the oak root. He shook a large digging claw at the molemaid. "You'm stay put, yurr--oi'll gerrum!"

Gurchen leaned over the tunnel edge, shielding her eyes as he shot into the loose soil, like a furry cannon-ball. Everything was still for a short time, then the ground erupted where Axtel had gone down. Gurchen was forced to move aside as he tossed the limp form of Flib up into the tunnel.

Axtel blew soil from his snout. "Did ee say thurr wurr two?"

A nod sent him burrowing back down. Loose earth moved this way and that, then he emerged with little Guffy clinging to his neck for dear life.

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Seizing the root, Axtel passed Gurchen the lantern. He clambered back up into the tunnel. Guffy sprang into Gurchen's paws, weeping with fright after his underground ordeal. The big mole slung Flib across his back, gesturing upward.

"Goo on with ee, back into ee fresh h'air!"

It was dark night in the woodlands. Gurchen and Guffy breathed deeply, overjoyed even though they were moles to be free of the underground, no longer imprisoned in the cave. They both began to chatter, explaining their plight to their huge new friend, but he silenced them with a snort.

"You'm 'ushed naow, whoilst oi see's iffen this young un bee's still aloive!"

Retrieving the gear he had left above ground, Axtel cleared debris from Flib's mouth and nostrils. He poured water between her open lips, until she gurgled and jerked, vomiting sludge and fine root tendrils onto the grass. Axtel sat her up.

"Burr, she'm soon bee's roighter'n'rain!"

Leading them off a small distance, he sat the escaped prisoners in a dry gully Lighting a small smokeless fire from the lantern flame, Axtel dug food from his pack. "You uns must be furr 'ungered'n'thursty."

Guffy threw his paws around his saviour's neck. "Hurr-hurrhurr, thankee muchly, zurr. You'm a guddbeast!"

The Warrior mole had never been around young ones, nor had he ever witnessed a display of genuine affection. He allowed himself to be hugged awhile, then sitting Guffy down with Flib and Gurchen, Axtel covered his shyness, mumbling gruffly as he busied himself.

"Yurr, naow, you'm likkle uns set thurr whoilst oi gets ee summat t'be eaten."

Flib, still spitting up bits of rubble, was unable to eat, though she did drink some of the big mole's excellent dandelion cordial. The two little moles tucked gratefully into acorn and chestnut scones. They had no sooner finished eating and drinking than both Dibbuns fell instantly to sleep.

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Axtel dug an old cloak out of his gear and covered them both. He turned his attention to Flib. "Naow, mizzy, may'aps ee can tell oi abowt 'ow ee cummed to be daown thurr unnergrounds."

The Guosim maid told her story, recounting from the time of her capture up to the tunnel collapse. She described in detail her vermin captors and their regime over the young prisoners, the darkness of the gloomy dungeon, the meagre rations and harsh treatment. Flib mentioned that she had a younger sister and a brother, a mere babe, still held in captivity with the rest. She also told of Thwip and Binta, the cruel fox jailers.

When she had finished her report, Flib watched Axtel Sturnclaw closely. The Warrior mole sat silent, his eyes flickering savagely in the firelight. He picked up a thick dead root end, wrenching it from the earth with one paw. His formidable digging claws snapped the root with a quick swat. Throwing the wood on the fire, he turned his gaze on the sleeping Dibbuns.

"You'm a sayin' ee vurmints gotten gurt numbers o' likkle uns locked away daown thurr, miz?"

Flib nodded. "About a score of 'em. Most been stolen from their families, some babes scarce two seasons old, pore liddle mites."

She fell quiet, afraid to say more. Axtel's teeth were grinding audibly; his eyes had taken on a fearful glaze. Taking the war hammer from his belt, he shook it right under Flib's nose, growling, "Gurt brave vurmints, eh? A-locken up babbies an' keepin' 'em 'ungered! Et b'aint roight, no, miz, et b'aint. They'm villuns got t'be punish-ered! Hurr, bo aye, an' oi bee's ee one who'll do ee pun-ishen, take moi wurd fur et!"

Out in Mossflower woodlands, Zwilt dismissed the main force of Ravagers, sending them back to their camp. Joining Vilaya and Dirva, he accompanied them, his chosen cave guards and the three small hostages back to Althier.

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Even before they reached the entrance in the old oak tree trunk, Dirva began twitching oddly.

The Sable Quean eyed her coldly. "Why all the shaking and hopping about?"

Dirva replied darkly, "I feels it in my bones'n'fur, Majesty--there's somethin' amiss. Althier isn't the same as when we left it!"

Vilaya knew enough to trust her aide's feelings. She commanded Zwilt, "Leave two guards here with the prisoners. Go ahead swiftly--find out what has gone on in my absence. We'll follow on."

When the Sable Quean eventually reached Althier, Zwilt was standing inside the entrance. His Ravagers were holding guards, two of the four who had remained behind with Thwip and Binta.

The tall sable shoved both vermin forward, snarling at them, "Report to your Quean, tell her what happened here!"

The elder of the two swallowed hard. "It was a collapse, Majesty, inside the prisoners' cell. We heard the noise and saw soil comin' out o' the door gratin'."

Both guards quailed under Vilaya's piercing eyes. She pointed to the younger vermin. "Did you see it? Were any of the captives hurt?"

He told her, constantly looking at his companion for reassurance. "Majesty, we didn't see it. We only heard the noise, but we went quickly t'see wot it was. The dungeon door was jammed, with rubble piled up agin it."

The older guard nodded, as if his life depended upon it (which it did). "Aye, Majesty. The foxes saw it. They was there, just outside, all the time."

The younger one added, "Those other two guards, the ones you left with us to mind the prisoners, they was with the foxes. They must've saw it 'appen!"

The Quean held up a paw, silencing them. "Then send them to me, immediately!"

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Zwilt interrupted, "Majesty, they are gone, deserted-- Thwip, Binta and the two sentries."

Vilaya's nostrils flared with wrath. "Find them. Hunt them down and bring them back here to me!"

Zwilt the Shade bowed low. This was work he enjoyed. "Leave it to me, my Quean!" He indicated four guards. "Bring ropes to bind them. Hurry, I must go before the trail runs cold."

After the hunters departed, Vilaya had a seat set up close to the dungeon, where she could direct operations. There was no way of pushing open the dungeon door, with all the debris behind it. She watched awhile as a half-dozen guards tried to force an entrance, then sighed in irritation.

"Break the hinges and pull it down."

Spearpoints hacked at the woodwork until the old iron hinges were exposed. The rusty metal creaked as the guards' spearhafts levered them loose. With a joint heave, the vermin pulled the battered door down. A guard held up a lantern, peering inside through the settling dust.

"There's still many in there, sitting on the ledges mainly. I can't see clearly yet, but there's quite a number of them."