Brian Jacques - [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain

She must have said the words out loud, because Banya echoed them. “The birds, marm? Wot d’ye mean?”

Tiria beckoned to the osprey and the goose, both hovering down close to her. She pointed at the figure on the ledge. “Can you get him down from there?”

Brantalis replied, “I could not do it alone, I am thinking. Mayhaps we could do it together, this one and myself. We could only lift him a short way, but far enough to drop him into the lake. I will help Shellhound, he once saved my life. Will you do it, hookbeak?”

Pandion glared at Brantalis. They had never been the closest of friends. He snapped back at the goose, “Kayarr! I have lifted many big fish in my talons. Anything a honker can do, I can also!”

Tiria’s patience was wearing thin. She spoke abruptly. “Then don’t just bicker and argue about it, get him away from there and drop him into the lake. Do it now!”

Both birds sped off toward the blazing tower.

32

As the fortress doors swung open, a catguard came staggering along the hallway, coughing and gasping for breath as he caught up to the warlord. “Sire, there is a fire in the upper floors!”

The wildcat seized him by the neck and shook him. “I know that, fool! We will deal with it later! Where has Scaut got to with those slaves?”

He flung the guard to the floor. Rubbing at his neck, the cat whined hoarsely, “Lord, we cannot get into the slave compound. Strange warriors have taken it. Weilmark Scaut sent me to tell you!”

The warlord tore off his helmet, throwing it at the guard. “What do you mean, strange warriors?”

The catguard scrambled backward, out of Felis’s reach. “Tall ones, rabbits I think. They shout ‘alaylee,’ and fight like madbeasts. They are fearsome creatures!”

The wildcat stared at him in disbelief. “Tall rabbits? What are you telling me, blatherbrain?”

Loud shouting and cheering came from the lake and banks beyond the pier. Puzzled and seething with wrath, Riggu Felis shouted to the guards gathered in the hallway, “Forward, follow me!”

He marched out onto the pier, followed by his guards, who were relieved to be out of the smoky fortress. Otterclans were packing both sides of the shore and, though the raft was still some distance away, the warlord could see the creatures upon it. They were looking up toward the tower and pointing. Ignoring the enemy facing him, he, too, turned and peered upward.

Leatho Shellhound blinked against the billowing smoke which poured from the window. He could feel his fur beginning to curl and scorch in the constant blasts of heat. Hungry, flaming tongues were threatening to envelop him.

Then two great shapes swooped overhead, and he heard the hawk calling, “Karrraaaak! Seize onto our legs and hold tight!”

Pandion and Brantalis descended upon him in a noisy flapping of wings. Leatho, needing no second invitation, grabbed the hawk just above its talons, and the goose above its webbed pads. With the acrid reek of burning feathers in his nostrils, he cried out, “I’ve got ye, friends!”

They pulled away, dipping because of the otter’s weight. It was very difficult, owing to the different flight methods of both birds, but Brantalis and Pandion flapped bravely outward. They could not keep a level path, immediately going into a descent, though they were still heading for the lake.

Riggu Felis was shouting like a beast demented as he hastened, facing backward, along the pier. It was not essentially Leatho’s escape which caught the wildcat’s attention, however; it was the sight of Pandion Piketalon.

“The hawk! It’s the hawk! I’d know it anywhere!”

He raced ahead, reaching the pier end ahead of the trio’s descent. The catguards stopped halfway along the pier, watching as the wildcat stood to intercept the two birds, who were fast losing height with Shellhound hanging from their legs.

As he whirled his single-bladed war axe, Riggu Felis was bellowing, “Go to Hellgates, bird!”

The osprey, within three spearlengths of the warlord when he hurled the axe, could not be missed. A cry of horror went up from the otters on the raft. They were still too far off to do anything that would prevent the fatal throw. Without thinking, Tiria began whirling her sling. Round and round it sped until it was a thrumming blur. Automatically, the old Abbey warcry ripped from her mouth. “Redwaaaaaaaaallllll!”

Never before or since had anybeast witnessed a slinging of that magnitude. The barbed iron star whistled through the hot morning air like a thunderbolt, covering the long distance in the speed of a lightning flash. Both Leatho and the two birds hit the water beyond the pier end. The warlord knew that his axe had struck home. He turned to see the hawk splash limply down. Facing the open lake, Riggu Felis laughed aloud. But no sound came from him as he stood in frozen silence for a brief moment. Then he toppled headfirst into the lake, with a hole between both eyes and an iron star embedded in his brain. Thus ended the reign of Riggu Felis, Wildcat Warlord of Green Isle, slain by a humble Abbeymaid who was now High Queen of the Otterclans.

Leatho and Brantalis reached the raft, still holding on to Pandion’s body. Willing paws helped them aboard. Tiria bowed with the weight of the slain osprey as she hugged his body tearfully.

Leatho gently disengaged her from the dead hawk. “Time for grievin’ later on, marm. We’ve got a war t’fight!”

Banya stared grimly at the pier. “Aye, an’ we’re goin’ t’miss it if’n this thing doesn’t move any faster. Lookit that!”

Before the otters on the shores could even mount the pier, the air was rent with a perilous roar. “Eulaliiiiiaaaaa!” Straight through the smokebound hallway, having entered the fortress from the rear, they burst forth onto the landing: the Long Patrol warriors, backed by a horde of yelling otterslaves whom they had freed.

Colour Sergeant O’Cragg’s stentorian tones rang out over the bewildered catguards huddled on the pier. “Forward the buffs! Give ’em blood’n’vinegar! Eulaliiiaaa!”

Leatho waved the pole he was paddling the raft along with. “Let’s cheer ’em on, mates! Ee aye eeeeeeeee!”

Some catguards fled; others tried to fight. But the day of reckoning had arrived. They were no match for the hares, and more especially for the freed slaves they had tyrannised and abused for long seasons. Before the day was much older, there was not a living cat left in sight. They were, as Corporal Drubblewick put it, “either bloomin’ well dead or flippin’ well fled, wot!”

Cuthbert had now reverted to his role as Regimental Major Frunk. He strode smartly aboard the raft, throwing a brisk salute. “All present an’ correct, wot! Queen Tiria, please accept me ’pologies, marm. We must look a confounded sight!”

He wagged an ear at the two subalterns. “You chaps, get the uniforms an’ dish ’em out, sharpish! My buckoes look like they’ve just escaped from a ragged robin’s roundelay. Give Sergeant O’Cragg me compliments, an’ tell him I want the Long Patrol on parade, soon as poss, washed, brushed, combed an’ curried. Jump to it!”

Tiria stood gazing at the fortress, which was now an inferno. The upper storeys had burned through, collapsing into the lower ones. Tongues of flame were now crackling along the pier. She shook her head regretfully.

“It would have made a fine castle for the Clans and me.”

Leatho took her to one side, speaking low. “No otter would willin’ly live there, marm. The place stunk of cats. There’s too many generations o’ bad memories within its walls. It’s better off as a heap of ole ashes, to stay as a warnin’ to foebeasts.”