Brian Jacques - [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain

The gang fell silent and went back to tending their own hurts. When the teapot landed on Plugtail’s head, he had dashed about madly, trying to get it off. The rope and scythe blade that followed it got tangled about one of his footpaws. Unfortunately, Groffgut got in the way, and the swinging blade slammed into his backside, severing his tail right at the root. The humiliation of a gang leader losing his tail far outdid any pain he felt from the wound. Groffgut knew he had to restore his position with the others. He put on his darkest, most vengeful scowl, grinding out every word savagely.

“I lost me tail in battle, der ain’t no shame in dat, see! But I swear a blood oath afore ye right now, afore dis season’s out, I’ll be wearin’ a cloak made outta the tails o’ them as did this t’me. Aye, an’ a necklace of their eyeballs!”

None of the gang dared to say a word. They knew he was in deadly earnest.

Unaware of the drama that had taken place on the walls, Tiria slept soundly, transported to the realm of dreams. She was in a room, a huge rock chamber. Cool breezes soothed her brow, yet she could feel radiating warmth upon her back. She felt no curiosity as to her surroundings, nor any compulsion to turn and look at the room. It was the view of the nighttime sea that fascinated her. She was standing at a broad, unshuttered window, staring fixedly at a spot on the moonlit waters, somewhere twixt tideline and horizon. Tiria knew that she was in a high place, far above shore level. Without looking, she knew that Martin the Warrior was standing beside her. His strong voice echoed through her mind.

“Maid of the Wildlough, hearken to what the High Queen Rhulain will say to you. Remember her words, for your very life will depend on it.”

He pointed with his sword to the place in the sea where Tiria was still watching. A shape began to emerge from the moon-burnished waves. Tiria instinctively knew it was the otter lady of her previous dream. The apparition was cloaked and hooded, the face within the hood appearing as a dark void, but the voice was unmistakable—melodious yet commanding.

“Bide ye not on Mossflower shore, hasten to Green Isle.

Thy presence there is needed sore, in coming time of

trial.

Leave thy Redwall friends to read that tale of ancient

life,

when Corriam the castaway took Mossguard maid as

wife.

Their secrets follow in thy wake, lost symbols will be

found

to aid both Queen and Clanbeast regain their rightful

ground.

Trust in the fool of the sea, to the Lord of the rock

pay heed,

but remember a hawkstar must fly,

on the day thy domain is freed.”

The vision faded like smoke, being drawn down into the sea. Far out between shore and horizon, Tiria saw what looked like the tip of the hood the otterlady had worn, sticking up out of the waters. The young ottermaid was overcome by a sense of loss; then the entire scene vanished into the bottomless well of slumber.

Dawn’s first rosy rays aroused the birds to song all over Mossflower Woodlands as Tiria wakened. She remembered every detail of the dream distinctly—Martin, the rock fortress, the Rhulain and her message. The ottermaid dressed swiftly. Now she knew exactly what she had to do.

BOOK TWO

The Fool of the Sea

13

Riggu Felis, an able general and a cunning tactician, deserved the title of warlord. He sent six scouts out, ahead of his main body of catguards, to comb the woodlands and hills for traces of his enemy. It was midnoon when they picked up the trail, pursuing it to the bank of a wide stream. Being cats, and not overly fond of water, they waited by the shallows for the wildcat and his command to catch up with them.

In the bushes on the opposite bank, the otters lay hidden, watching the catguards. Big Kolun Galedeep and Banya Streamdog crouched alongside the outlaw Leatho Shellhound. After grasping the oar, which was now his favourite weapon, Kolun nudged his friend.

“You were right, mate. They’ve arrived, though there ain’t many of ’em. Wot d’ye think their next move’ll be?”

Leatho never took his eyes off the scouts. “Let’s wait an’ see, Kolun. I wager Felis’ll be along with the rest soon enough. I want to count how many he has with him.”

Banya volunteered her services. “I’ll do that, Shellhound, but wot d’ye want ’em counted for?”

The outlaw explained his strategy. He was the wildcat’s equal when it came to planning ahead. “I know that Felis has two hundred or more catguards in his army. If they’re all with him, then we’ll make this place our battlefield. We could chop’em to ribbons afore they cross the water. Now durin’ the fight, I’ve got a job for you, Kolun. When I gives the word, take yore clan an’ all the Streambattle clan out of here in secret. I’ll hold the cats off with what I’ve got left. You circle round the back, get clear away, then march for the fortress. The slaves’ll be unguarded if Felis has all his guards with him. You can hit the place hard an’ free all our friends.”

Big Kolun grinned. “Good idea, matey, but wot if’n Felis don’t have a full force along with him?”

Leatho nodded. “I’ve thought o’ that. If Banya counts less than the full number, then we’ll decoy ’em. We’ll pull out an’ make a lot o’ noise, so they can follow us easily. I know a good hill, it’s inland, an’ any beast on the high slope can give a good account of themselves there.... Stow it, mates, here comes Felis an’ the rest!”

The catguards gathered in four ranks on the opposite bank; their warlord stood to one side, sheltered by a large willow tree. Weilmark Scaut took the tracker’s report before joining his master.

“Lord, the tracks ended at this stream. The otters ’ave a far greater force than ours.”

A satisfied hiss came from behind the chain mail mask. “Good, just as I had hoped, Scaut. Send six of your guards to cross the stream. Take a score of archers back into the brush. I know they’re waiting for us on the other side of this water, I can feel it. Listen now, they’ll send lances and slingstones at the six in the stream. Check what direction the weapons come from and send your arrows over that way. Then we’ll see what happens.”

The six guards were not too happy to enter the stream, but they had their orders. Immediately as they entered the shallows, a fusillade of slingstones and light javelins dropped four of them.

Big Kolun brandished his oar. “Well, ’ow many of the scum did ye count, Banya?”

The tough Galedeep maid flung off a slingstone. “About fivescore, give or take a few. . . . Look out!”

A volley of arrows hummed viciously down among the otters. Leatho saw two clanbeasts fall, and another injured. “Kolun, give the order to fall back, but keep slingin’. Don’t retreat too far, then cut off into the trees to yore left. Make sure they know we’re runnin’ away.”

A scorecat named Fleng hurried to Riggu Felis and Scaut beneath the willow. “Lord, the otters are beaten, they’re abandonin’ their position!”

Abandoning the cover of the willow, the warlord watched intently as the undergrowth and bushes swayed. He heard the shouts of the fleeing otters. “They’re travelling inland. What do you make of that, Scaut?”

The weilmark’s voice was heavy with scorn. “We’ve got’em beaten, Lord. Otters can’t stand up to yer catguards. Look, they’re well on the run!”