Brian Jacques - [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain

Big Kolun Galedeep, standing out in full view, lifted a boulder above his head and hurled it downhill at the enemy position. He complained to the outlaw, “Ain’t much goin’ on down there, Leatho. Those cats don’t seem to be puttin’ up a decent fight at all. Wot d’ye suppose is goin’ on?”

Leatho slung a stone and peered downhill. “I’m not sure, mate. Either we lost ’em along the way or some are still tryin’ to cross the stream. Maybe we should take the fight to them an’ see wot happens.”

That was all Big Kolun needed. Seizing his oar, he thundered off downhill, roaring, “Galedeeps to me! Yaylahooooo! Chaaaaaaarge!”

Leatho could not halt Kolun and his clan, but he called out to the rest, “Watch yoreselves, it might be a trap. Follow me!”

Leatho and Banya arrived on the scene together, only to find it devoid of foebeasts apart from ten slain guards. Kolun and his clan looked thoroughly disgruntled.

The big otter hailed the outlaw. “Huh, just as well ye didn’t charge with me, Shellhound. There wasn’t any fightin’ t’do, they’ve gone!”

Leatho rolled up his sling. “There’s somethin’ wrong, Kolun. It was all too easy. Wot do you think, Banya?”

The tough ottermaid was a short distance away, supporting the head of a badly injured catguard until it drooped limply back and she let it go.

“I got to that ’un just afore his lights went out. He managed to say that there wasn’t more’n a score of catguards. Said they was ordered to follow us an’ t’make the most noise they could, so that we’d think it was a full troop.”

Leatho interrupted her. “But where’d Felis an’ the rest of’em get to?”

Banya touched the dead guard with her footpaw. “He said they stayed back at the streambank where we first met up with the cats. I was goin’ to question him a bit more, but he just drifted off.”

Kolun gritted his teeth. “Huh, lyin’ cowards, they won’t admit we beat ’em fair’n’square. That’s cats for ye!”

Banya did not agree with him. “No, he spoke the truth. Look around, there was never over a hundred catguards here. Wot d’you think, Shellhound?”

But Leatho was already on the move as the chilling realisation dawned on him. His voice was tight and urgent. “Kolun, get the clans on the move. Quick, at the double!”

The big otter saw the alarm in his friend’s eyes. “Why, mate, wot’s goin’ on?”

Leatho was running as he shouted out his explanation. “Felis outsmarted us. He’s gone the other way, t’the coast where the families are hidin’!”

The outlaw was out ahead of everybeast, speeding like an arrow. Kolun and his brother Lorgo, together with Banya, headed the main band as they sped through the night. The big otter’s chest was heaving.

“That scummy cat, goin’ after our families like that!”

Banya steadied him as he stumbled against a tree. “Aye, ’tis just the sort of thing Felis’d do. Save yore breath, an’ let’s hope we can stop ’im, mate!”

Word had passed through the clans of what might happen. The packed mass of otters increased their speed. Regardless of rock, bush or shrub, they stampeded madly toward the coast.

14

It was shortly after sunrise at the Abbey. Sister Snowdrop watched Friar Bibble filling a tray with breakfast foods for herself and Old Quelt. “A touch more honey on the Recorder’s oatmeal, if you please, Friar. He likes a lot of honey—oh, and some of those whortleberries, too, thank you.”

Bibble obliged her. “There y’are, Sister. Oh, did ye hear? Tiria’s gone. An’ that Pandion bird, thanks be to goodness!”

The aged Sister looked over her glasses. “Gone, Friar? Where to, what do you mean?”

Bibble filled two beakers with coltsfoot and dandelion cordial. “Indeed to goodness, I thought you knew. She’s off on that journey of hers. I filled haversacks for them—her da, Brink and Tiria. They left before sunup.”

Snowdrop appeared bemused by the news. “But she can’t do that! We haven’t gathered all the information she needs yet.”

Friar Bibble wiped his paws and took a parchment from his apron pocket. “Well, I don’t know about that, Sister, but gone she has. Said I was to give this to you.”

The little Sister tucked the parchment into her habit sleeve. “Thank you, Friar. Oh, when you see Brinty, Tribsy and Girry, will you please send them straight up to the library?”

Bibble watched her skittering off with the laden tray. “Indeed to goodness, I’m more of a messenger than a cook this morning. Now then, baby Groop, what can I do for you?”

The molebabe held her dish out solemnly. “No messinjers furr oi, jus’ vikkles, zurr. Lots of ’em!”

Sister Snowdrop and Old Quelt shared the Recorder’s desk as they pored over Tiria’s letter. They looked up as the library door slammed open. Girry and Brinty dashed in, followed at a more sedate pace by Tribsy.

The young mole was balancing a tray loaded high with food. “Hurr, Miz Tirry bein’ goned bain’t a-stoppen this choild gettin’ ee vikkles. G’mawnin’, zurr’n’marm!”

Brantalis appeared in the doorway and honked. “I am thinking Tiria is gone from here!”

Quelt peered at him over the rim of his oatmeal bowl. “Yes, she has. Why are you looking so pleased?”

The barnacle goose did a waddling turn and started off downstairs, calling back to the Recorder, “I will look as pleased as I please, old one. No more hook-beaked fish eater to bother me. He went, too. I am thinking I will ask the Bibbler for two breakfasts now.”

Snowdrop went back to studying the parchment, murmuring, “I’m sure that will please the Friar no end.”

Brinty helped himself to a baked apple from Tribsy’s tray. “Huh, scooting off like that without so much as a thank-you or farewell. The Friar said Tiria left a letter. Is that it? Can I have a look, please?”

Old Quelt straightened the creases from the parchment. “No, you can’t! Your paws are all full of cooked apple.”

Girry stood on tip-paw, trying to see the letter. “My paws are clean.”

The ancient squirrel’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “Good, well, let’s see if you can’t keep them that way, young sir. I’ll read the letter out to you. Listen.”

He held the missive at paw’s length, commenting before he read it, “Dearie me, spelling is not that ottermaid’s strong point, though she does write with a neat paw. Er, right.

“Dear friends,

Sorry I couldn’t stop to say good-bye. I had a dream last nite, and the High Rhulain said I must go to Green Isle rite away. I hope you find lots of things in the Geminya Tome book. Here are some words from my dreem which may help you: ‘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.’

“There’s lots more, but my father and Brink are wateing, so I’ve got to go now. Pandion’s with me, too. I’m sure he’ll be a great help to me. I’ll miss you all very much, and Redwall, too. Thank you for your kind aid and frendship. I hope we’ll meet again someday.

“Tiria”

Tribsy dropped his tray and broke out sobbing. “Boohurrrrrr! Us’ll never see Tirry no more, she’m goned. Boohurhurhurrr! Oi wurr gurtly fond of ’er, she’m wurr allus koind an’ noice, an’ she’m wurr moi friend. Boohurrr!”

Girry and Brinty were affected by their molefriend’s tears. They, too, turned aside and wept quietly. Old Quelt reached out a bony paw to lift up Sister Snowdrop’s chin. She was sniffling also, a tear rolling from beneath her small, square glasses.