Brian Jacques - Redwall #21 - Doomwyte

Skipper immediately decided that he did not like either the tone or the manner of Tugga Bruster. He hurried forward, placing himself in front of Glisam. “Ahoy, bully, ye can ask wot questions ye like, but there won’t be any answers until yore manners improve!”

Tugga Bruster held his club forward threateningly. “Out o’ me way, riverdog, I ain’t talkin’ to you!”

Skipper whirled like lighting; his thick rudder struck the shrew’s paws, knocking the iron club from his grasp. It rang out, like a hammer striking an anvil, as it hit the floor. Skipper clenched his paws. “Well, I’m Rorgus, Skipper o’ the Mossflower Otters, an’ I’m talkin’ to you, watermouse!”

The Guosim shrew whipped out his rapier, yelling, “I’ll send ye to Hellgates for that!”

It was Bosie’s turn to step in now. He drifted in from the side, unknown to Tugga Bruster. As the Shrew Chieftain was about to lunge with his rapier, he was halted by the sword of Martin pricking his neck. The Highland hare stood poised, his tone leaving nobeast in any doubt. “Allow me tae introduce mahself, laddie. Ah’m the Laird Bosie McScutta o’ Bowlaynee. Unlike mah friend Skipper, Ah dinna come tae the dance unarmed. So, let’s talk. Ah’d advise ye tae put up yore blade, mine’s bigger, d’ye see. Oh, an’ tell yore clan not tae move a paw, or Ah’ll lay yore heid on the floor an’ play ball with it. Now, mah braw bucko, do we understand each other?”

Tugga Bruster thrust the rapier back into his belt. “I hear ye, rabbit!”

Zzzzzip! One deft stroke of Martin’s sword sheared hairs from the shrew’s beard. Bosie shook his head. “Tut tut, yore a hard one tae learn. Och, but ye’ll find me a stern teacher. Now, state yore business.”

Tugga Bruster backed off, his voice quivering. “Two things. Do ye keep Wytes at this place?”

Bosie leant on his sword, as if pondering the answer. “Ach, certainly not, what do ye take us for, rogues? Carry on, laddie, what’s the other thing?”

The Shrew Chieftain asked in a more reasonable tone, “Has a young Guosim been seen hereabouts, goes by the name o’ Dubble?”

The Abbot stepped out from behind Skipper; he had begun to put two and two together. “Do I take it that you think this young un, Dubble, has been captured by Wytes?”

The Log a Log nodded. “Aye, that’s about it!”

Glisam beckoned to the tables. “All of you, and you, too, sir, please sit and take supper. Come on, Guosim shrews have always been friends of our Abbey. There’s no need to create bad blood between us. Sit ye down now, please.”

At a nod from their Log a Log, the shrews rushed to the table. Glisam made way for their leader to sit next to him. He enquired about the lost shrew. “Is Dubble one of your tribe, sir?”

Tugga Bruster nodded, as though it was hard to admit. “Aye, he’s my son. We’ve come down from the North, this country is new to us.”

The Abbot nodded understandingly. “It must be hard to have your own kin lost in a strange place, a dreadful feeling.”

Skipper winked at Tugga. “When you’ve eaten yore fill, mayhaps ye’d like to join us. One of our own young uns, a mouse called Bisky, is missin’. He was snatched by the Painted Ones. I take it ye’ve heard o’ those villains, eh, Tugga?”

The Shrew Chieftain set his jaw grimly. “Aye, what beast hasn’t heard about ’em? Dirty, savage tree rats. There wasn’t so many of the scum in my younger seasons, but they’re in every reach of forest or woodland these days.”

Samolus nodded agreement. “The gang we’re after have their dwellings in an’ round a five-topped oak, southeast of here. Who knows, maybe they’ve got yore son. Well, d’ye fancy joinin’ us, Tugga?”

Tugga Bruster rose, adjusting the rapier in his belt. Shouldering his iron club, he called to the Guosim, “On yore hunkers an’ join these goodbeasts. Y’can eat those vittles on the march, let’s be off!”

In soft, dusk light the party left Redwall by the small east wickergate, heading straight into the verdant woodlands. Dwink and Umfry strode alongside a couple of shrews who were about their age, one called Marul, the other named Tenka. They chatted to one another in low voices. Umfry was curious about the Guosim way of life, which Marul tried to give him a flavour of.

“We lives mainly on the water, in logboats. You’ve got to be good with a paddle if’n yore a Guosim.”

Dwink enquired, “Where’s yore logboats now, mate?”

Tenka gestured off to his left. “Moored in a broadstream over that way, out o’ sight.”

He was silenced by Tugga, who had heard them talking. “Ahoy, silence back there, ye ain’t out on a picnic. Shut yore gobs!”

The young Guosim promptly obeyed, but Umfry murmured indignantly, “Who does ’e think ’e h’is, givin’ h’out h’orders left an’ right?”

Samolus turned and tweaked the young hedgehog’s snout before delivering a whispered caution. “He’s a Guosim Chief, a Log a Log, an’ whether ye like him or not, wot he says makes sense. Remember, you an’ Dwink ain’t in the Abbey now, yore out in woodlands by night. So ye keep yore eyes open an’ your mouths shut, an’ obey orders, see!”

Samolus went back to the rear of the band, where he fell in step with Bosie. Skipper marched up front alongside Tugga Bruster; the Otter Chieftain had a fair idea of where the five-topped oak would be. Every once in a while pale moonlight showed through the gaps in the treetops, casting moonshadow on the woodland floor. Samolus nodded ahead. “Ah, I know where we are now, pretty soon we’ll come to a clearing up yonder. Skipper will be able to take a bearing on the oak from there.”

Bosie silenced the old mouse with a wave of his paw. “Wheesht, can ye not hear that sound?”

Samolus stood still, listening. “Aye, sounds like a sort of rustlin’ an’ thrashin’, but I ain’t certain where ’tis comin’ from.”

Bosie crouched low, letting the others march ahead as he listened carefully, down close to ground level. “Och, that could be more than one creature, comin’ up from behind us. Ah think it’s headed this way. You go an’ tell everybeast tae get off to the right o’ this trail. We’ll lie low an’ see what it can be, mebbe find out if ’tis followin’ us.”

Word ran swiftly along the column, whilst Bosie crept back along the trail to investigate. Dwink and Umfry obeyed the urgent signals of Samolus, as did the Guosim. The young Redwallers found themselves, along with Marul and Tenka, lying flat in a dried-up watercourse, to the right of the trail.

Now they could all hear the noise. At first it sounded like a stiff breeze, rushing low around the ferns and shrubbery of the woodland floor. But then they heard the sounds of twigs snapping, and some beast, or beasts, beating about amidst the vegetation. The noises grew closer, along with a slight musty odour, quite unpleasant, a bit like dead fish and old damp bark.

Dwink flinched slightly as Bosie dived in the dried watercourse beside him. The hare warned him to silence with a swift glance. Then the hissing could be clearly heard. It was Baliss!

The giant adder had been driven to madness. Leaving the ditch outside Redwall, he had battered his wounded head against tree trunks, trying to rid himself of the many hedgehog spikes which had pierced his mouth, nostrils, face and snout. Some broke off under the pounding, others were driven deeper into the huge, blind reptile. Each wound became swollen and infected. With the double handicap of blindness and having no means of extracting the tormenting needles, Baliss became insane with agony. Having lost all sense of smell, and direction, the snake rampaged around the woodlands, hissing venomously, unable to do anything about his worsening condition.