Brian Jacques - Redwall #21 - Doomwyte

She stood where none could pass, her double-bladed sword dealing out death and destruction to the creatures of Korvus Skurr. Any servant of the Doomwyte who ventured in range of her avenging blades was sent screaming to Hellgates with savage fury.

Bisky managed to shout to her above the hubbub, “We’ve got Spingo, she must get out of here, Zaran!”

The otter slashed her way through to Bosie’s side. “Come, friend, get the young one out, then we come back and finish this thing forever!”

The Highland hare laughed recklessly. “Och, yer a lassie after mah own heart. Aye, let’s do that, mah braw bonny!”

Dawn rushed in with a warm breeze, and a sky as blue as speedwell blossoms. The little party broke out of the fetid cavern fumes into a bright summer’s day. Nokko tripped and fell into the stream, dousing both himself and his daughter. Bisky and Dubble waded in to help them out. Spingo, wakened by the sudden shock of cold streamwater, yelled out.

“Whaaaa…. Phlooooey…. I’m bein’ drownded, ’elp!”

Bisky grabbed her paw, pulling her up onto the bank. He was shaking all over, and grinning foolishly.

Nokko spat out a jet of water, scowling. “Worra yew laughin’ at, cheeky gob?”

The young Redwaller held a paw to help him out. “It’s a good day t’be alive, isn’t it mate?”

Nokko suddenly realised that Spingo was standing smiling at Bisky, awake and well. He accepted Bisky’s paw and waded to the bank. “Ha ha, ye can say that agin, bucko! Aye aye, where are ye off to, we’ve just got out!”

Bisky and Dubble joined Zaran and Bosie. Now that his warrior blood was roused, the Laird of Bowlaynee was trembling for action. “Stay here an’ care for yore bonny daughter, mah friend, we’ve got a battle tae attend to!”

The Gonfelin Pikehead sat Spingo carefully down on the bankside. “Are ye alright, me darlin’?”

She smiled prettily. “I’m fine, thank ye, Da!”

He pulled a thick driftwood billet from the stream and gave it to her. “There now, that’s me beauty. You rest ’ere an’ break the ’eads of any foebeasts ye sees comin’ out o’ there.” He cocked an ear to the tunnel entrance, scowling. “There goes that Gobbo agin, can’t keep his big trap shut fer a moment. Right, let’s go t’war, mates!”

Yelling blood and thunder, the five warriors charged back into the tunnel. Spingo picked a pink purslane flower, sniffing it daintily as she wielded her club and sat guard over the tunnel entrance.

Korvus Skurr was the Leader of Doomwytes, he had ruled his underworld domain with a stern claw. It had seen many seasons of his tyranny, but now he could see it was all finished. The big raven Doomwyte was many things, but he could never be called a fool. His cunning mind was ever at work, thinking up fresh ideas, devising new plans. The one uppermost in his self-centred mind now was survival—to escape Baliss, and get clear of the caves. His fear of the giant adder knew no bounds, he had seen what it could do. Any creature who could slay the Welzz, that dark monster which haunted the bottomless lake, was worthy of the fear of even the Doomwyte. A bird of his size and ferocity could establish himself anywhere outside, even beyond the bounds of Mossflower. When he saw the invading forces of woodlanders charging into his caverns, he knew a swift change of plans was called for.

Urging his creatures forward to the attack, Korvus Skurr did what he deemed to be the wise move. He sent them at the foebeast, strategically withdrawing himself. Once the struggle was decided, one way or another, it would be the work of a moment to make a flight for freedom and the outside world. But there remained the problem of Baliss, how to avoid the snake, until he could effect his escape.

The raven’s keen eyes searched around, until he found the answer. There! About a third of the way up the cavern walls was a recess, half-disguised by scabrous growths of fungus and lichen. As everybeast from both sides was locked in battle, it was not too difficult to go unnoticed. One lightning swoop took the Doomyte raven straight up to the hiding place.

Unfortunately, he found it already occupied by a jackdaw. Seeing the great Korvus Skurr, the grey-hooded bird moved aside to make room. Korvus settled next to the jackdaw, indicating the struggle below with a wave of one wing.

“Garraaak! Why are you not fighting alongside your companions? Do ye fear those earthcrawlers?” He noticed an ugly swelling on the bird’s face as it turned to him. It had difficulty replying.

“Kurrrh! Lord, I was wounded by a slingstone. My mate was slain by an arrow, she lies down there.”

Korvus stared down at the arena of combat. “Where?”

The jackdaw dipped its beak toward the edge of the boiling pool. “Over there, see?”

Pretending he could not see, Korvus got behind the jackdaw, as if to look over its shoulder. “Harraaah! Where is your mate? I cannot see.”

The jackdaw bent its head, indicating the spot. “Korrah! By those two fallen magpies. See the arrow sticking out, she was a good mate.”

Korvus stuck the jackdaw through the back of its neck with his murderous beak. With a wrench of his strong head, he sent its body plummeting downward in a whirl of black and grey plumage. “Yakkaaah! Go and join your mate, fool, there is space for only one up here!”

He settled down to watch the outcome of the battle, keeping one eye on the entrance to the rear cavern. Sooner or later, Baliss would come out of there. Korvus hoped it would be later, some time after he had made his escape.

Though the woodlanders had the element of surprise on their side, they were outnumbered by reptiles and carrion birds. Urged on by Bosie, Nokko, Bisky and Dubble, they fought fiercely. The main area of combat centred round the entrance to the tunnel. Gonfelin and Guosim archers and slingers kept up constant barrages at the carrion, who swept down on them in dark clouds through the yellow fog of sulphur fumes.

Bosie and several shrews were hard put, slashing with their blades at the horde of reptiles, snakes, toads, frogs and lizards. These were not fighting, merely trying to leave by the tunnel. They pressed the woodlanders in seething masses, threatening to bring them down with overwhelming force.

It was Bosie’s injury that decided the outcome of the struggle. Flailing about with his sword like a madbeast, he let his aching paws drop for one unguarded moment. A big chough swept down and attacked him. The foebird’s curved pointed beak drove a furrow across the hare’s head, piercing his right ear. Bosie roared in pain. The chough latched its talons into his brow, screeching madly as it tried to extricate its beak from his ear.

Nokko leapt on Bosie’s back; grabbing the chough, he slew it with a swift dagger thrust. Bosie was still bellowing as he flung the slain bird from him, then he charged, his eyes clouded red in a berserk rage.

“Eulaliiiaaa! Ye durty auld featherbags! Ah’ll make ye rue the day ye broke yore eggshells! Ah’ll send ye all tae Hellgates an’ potscrapin’s! Face me if ye dare, Ah’m the McScutta, Laird o’ Bowlayneeeeeee! Eulaliiiiaaaaa!”

Such was his fury that the enemy broke, scattering widespread. The Highland hare’s wild charge sent fresh energy into the woodland ranks. Howling warcries, they threw themselves anew into the fray.

Bisky found himself with a gang of Gonfelin slingers, whipping stones off, hitting birds and reptiles like a sudden thunderstorm.

A voice rang out. “Cummback ’ere, yer scummy-bummed, onion-snouted blaggards, stand an’ fight! Yowch! Wot didyer do that for, Da?”

It was Gobbo. Bisky could not resist a chuckle as he saw Nokko cuff his errant son’s ear again.

“Less o’ the shoutin’ an’ more o’ the slingin’, gabbygob. Sticks’n’stones, remember?”