Brian Jacques - Redwall #21 - Doomwyte

He turned to Skipper. “How’s young Marul, is he hurt?”

The Otter Chieftain had laid Marul down; he was inspecting the Guosim shrew’s still form. “He’s dead, there ain’t nothin’ we can do for him.”

Umfry could not believe what he had just heard. “Dead? But ’e was standin’ talkin’ to h’us not h’a moment back!”

Skipper pointed to Marul’s throat. “See those darts, three of ’em. I was shot with one in the footpaw, back in the tunnel. I couldn’t move me leg for almost a day, it was deadened. Those scum must tip their darts with some sort o’ poison. Pore young Marul took three in his throat, cut off his breath. He choked, there was nothin’ anybeast could’ve done to save him, nothin’!”

The news spread like wildfire. Shrews began chattering nervously. One rose, as if to make a break and run for it. Samolus tripped him, muttering angrily, “Do as Bosie says, keep yore head down an’ arm yoreselves. Try to run, and they’ll cut you down!”

Tugga Bruster had wakened sufficiently to learn what had taken place. He grasped his warclub. “We’ll charge the villains!”

Skipper eyed him sourly. “Don’t let us stop ye, mate, you go ahead an’ charge, but ye’ll be on yore own. See how far ye get!”

The Guosim Log a Log looked bewildered. “But wot’ll we do, we can’t lay here forever.”

Samolus pointed to the trees, where the Painted Ones were hidden. “Take charge of your Guosim, watch those trees for any movement. Skip, Bosie, we need a plan.”

The three Redwallers put their heads together, with Dwink and Umfry eavesdropping close by. They looked to Bosie, as the most experienced in those matters.

The hare looked from one to the other. “Council o’ war, eh, easier said than done, mah friends. We need tae know how many o’ the foe we’re facin’, an’ a rough idea of when, an’ how, they’re goin’ tae make their move.”

Skipper agreed. “Aye, but we mightn’t get much time to do it in. If there’s a lot of ’em, they’ll prob’ly try an’ charge us. Though if there ain’t so many, mayhap they’ll try an ambush, a pincer movement, like you said, Bosie.”

Samolus loaded a stone into his sling. “I wish we knew, it sounds like quite a bunch of Painted Ones, judging by their shouts.”

The high-pitched taunting continued from the tree foliage across the clearing. An idea filtered into Dwink’s mind—he decided to speak up.

“Er, ’scuse me, but could I say somethin’?”

Bosie looked at him curiously. “Say away, laddie.”

Dwink broached his idea to them. “It’s like this. I’m the only squirrel with this band, and I know I’m better amongst the treetops than any painted, little tree rat. I think I could steal up on them and capture one, bring him back here an’ maybe you could get the information you need, eh?”

Samolus shook his head. “No, you’re too young!”

Skipper scratched his rudder doubtfully. “Hmm, ye are only a young un yet, Dwink, an’ it’s very risky. Oh, there ain’t much doubt that yore a good climber, I’ve seen ye myself, hoppin’ round the Abbey battlements an’ walltops….”

Bosie cut in. “Och, let the laddie have a try, Ah was younger than him when Ah faced mah first war!”

Without waiting for further approval, Dwink grabbed the sling from Samolus. “This is a good, long sling, strong-lookin’, too.”

Samolus let him take it. “I made it myself, ’tis the best sling in Redwall, if ye’ll pardon me saying.”

Bosie smiled. “Then take it with ye, if’n ye feel the need o’ such a thing. Och, where’s the wee beasty gone tae?”

The young squirrel had scuttled off up a nearby elm.

Skipper winked at the hare. “I told ye he was a good climber. Let’s hope he brings yore sling back, Mister Fixa.”

Samolus heaved a sigh. “Aye, and himself with it!”

21

Veeku, leader of the carrion crows, perched near the rim of the boiling lake in the sulphurous atmosphere of the large cavern. He preferred it there of late; every bird or reptile in the domain beneath the tree-clad hill did also. Everybeast was avoiding Korvus Skurr. The Tyrant Lord of the Doomwytes held them all in disfavour. He remained in the darker, cooler rear cavern, brooding by the cold, bottomless pond, with only the huge, loathsome Welzz for company.

It was a futile exercise. The giant fish would not communicate with Korvus, no matter how much he fed it with live frogs, toads, newts and lizards. The longer Korvus Skurr stayed in isolation, dwelling on the disloyalty of his followers, the more dangerous he became.

His pact with Baliss was now common knowledge to all. He knew he had made a grave mistake by hiring the legendary slayer, but Korvus could not allow himself to lose face by admitting it. Accordingly, the situation got worse. Now no creature dared approach him, fearing his towering rages, and sudden fits of violence. Even his smoothsnake, Sicariss, had taken refuge in the noxious fumes of the main cavern. His once-faithful Wytes joined the crows, magpies and choughs, who mostly camped outside by the stream now.

It was close to evening when several crows, who had been out in the woodlands scavenging, came to perch in the downy birch outside.

Veeku was called from the bubbling lake—the crows had something to report. Winging out into the open, he perched on the topmost boughs of the birch, looking down on his minions. Veeku closed his eyes, waiting until one of the birds began.

“Kraaaak! My brothers and I have seen!”

The leader’s eyes flashed open, transfixing the speaker with a sharp, inquisitive stare. “Kiiirrrraaaah! So, ye have seen?” It was the carrion manner of giving an underling permission to carry on; the crow launched right into his report.

“Kark! We saw the mighty poisonteeth Baliss. In the woodlands, south and west of here. Yarraaa! He is acting strangely, battering himself against trees and rocks, tearing up the earth, writhing and hissing. We think he has taken an injury.”

Veeku switched his attention to another of the carrion for confirmation, snapping at him, “Grrakk! An injury, how did you know this?”

The second crow shuffled along the branch, spreading both wings expressively. “Korra! The head of Baliss is grown bigger, swollen, with many scars and sores upon it. By the way he hurls his body about, he looks to be driven mad!”

Veeku closed his eyes again, giving the matter much thought. When he had arrived at a decision, he clacked his beak at the two crows who had reported. “Korvus Skurr must hear of this. Yakkar! Follow me, you will tell him what you have seen!”

It was a frightening interview. Korvus menaced the three crows, pressing them for every scrap of information, hovering over them with his lethal beak ready to strike at eye or throat. They told him everything, the demeanour of Baliss, the extent of his wounds and the location where they had seen him. Korvus stood silent awhile, watching the shivering carrion, as his murderous, shining eyes bored into them. Then he spoke.

“Harrah! Leave me now. Veeku, tell my Wytes I would speak with them. Say it is my command that Sicariss attends me also!”

The tyrant raven was a clever schemer, he began planning. This news could restore his prestige, renew his power as ruler of the subterranean realm.

Sicariss coiled beneath a heap of reeking bones, which were piled against the slime-coated wall of the main cave. She had been listening at the entrance to the second cave, hearing all that went on. Sicariss did not trust the raven anymore, so she stayed hidden. Let Korvus Skurr do his own thinking from now on, see how far that got him, without the wisdom and counsel of his former oracle!