Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

It was not a solution that pleased the Abbot. But suppose you cannot, or don’t want to, move away. What happens then, pray tell?

Ovus waited as Skipper opened the Abbey door for him. If you stay put, then the adders will find you, sooner or later. Those reptiles are totally evil. They’re great hunters, too, and can range far and wide.

I say move, that’s the best and safest way of staying alive.

Skipper snorted. ’Tis out o’ the question, mate. Is there no other way?

Ovus paused on the top step of the kitchen. Hmmm, strawberry and redcurrant turnover, can’t mistake that gorgeous smell. Hope there’s plenty left.

Skipper blocked the owl’s path. I asked ye if there was any other way!

Abruptly the tawny owl snapped, Bluddbeak, I suppose!

Ovus would speak no more until he had despatched a large turnover. The Abbot’s gesture signalled them all to be patient until the owl had finished eating. He picked a few crumbs from his talons and sighed.

Ahhh, that’s much better. Ahem, now about Bluddbeak. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him. Big old red kite, lives nor’west in the mountains, a goodly way off. Suppose that’s why you don’t know him. Anyhow, if anybeast can take care of adders, then Bluddbeak is the bird.

Malbun found another turnover that had been left cooling on a stone slate. She pushed it in front of Ovus. Could you find Bluddbeak and bring him to Redwall?

Again they had to wait whilst the owl ate his turnover. Then Ovus began making his demands for the task.

Skipper took the first watch on the walltops with Churk, the hefty young female otter. He told her of what had taken place in the kitchens. Churk leaned on a battlement, watching the night-cowled woodlands, shaking her head in disbelief.

A day afore he can make the trip, ye say? Cheeky old featherbag. I’d

‘ave sent that owl packin’ tonight, Skip!

Skipper rested his chin on the wallstones. Ovus ain’t hurryin’ fer nobeast. Says ‘e’s got to feed ‘imself up fer such a long flight. Huh, an’ the load o’ vittles ‘e wants t’take with ‘im. A fruitcake, two mushroom-an’-carrot pasties, a bag o’ candied chestnuts, a whoppin’

slab o’ cheese, an’ a big flask of greensap milk mixed with clear honey, if ye please!

Churk could not resist a chuckle at the owl’s gluttony.

Carryin’ that lot, I think Ovus’ll’ave to walk all the way! Skipper shrugged. I think the Abbot’s far too soft wid that bird, but’e agreed with everythin’.

Zassaliss was the biggest and oldest of the three adders. His brother Harssacss and his sister Sesstra were bound forever to him, not just by family blood, but also by the mace and chain of King Sarengo. Long seasons ago, when all three were young, the Pure Ferret Ruler and his crew of Ratguards had invaded the vipers’ home. The attack had been brief but terrible. Their mother, the great snake Berrussca, had met Sarengo head-on, knocking the iron mace and chain from his paws and engaging him in a struggle to the death. The mace was a fearsome weapon, with a metal bar handle, an iron chain flail, and a spiked iron ball.

Berrussca’s three children were hardly half grown. Huddling together in the cavern beneath the oak, they hissed venomously and struck out at the Ratguards surrounding them. Flailing through the melee, the discarded mace and chain wrapped itself about their writhing tails.

Screams of stricken rats rent the gloomy air of Brockhall as the three young snakes struck again and again. Only six rats and Sarengo’s fat, terrified son Agarnu managed to scramble out with their lives.

King Sarengo fought like a madbeast. Weaponless and trapped in the giant coils of Berrussca, the Pure Ferret sunk his teeth into the adder’s spine, just below the skull. He hung on, hoping for rescue by his son and the Ratguards, but it never came. Sarengo died of wounds from the viper’s poison fangs. Berrussca died, too, her spine broken by Sarengo’s clenched teeth.

When it was all over, the three young vipers, Zassaliss, Harssacss and Sesstra, lay exhausted, the cruel weight of Sarengo’s mace and chain embedded in their tails. The more they struggled, the worse it bit into their bodies. It was many days before they could move. Exerting hisgreater strength and authority over the other two, Zassaliss forced them to coordinate their movements until all three moved as one.

The brood of Berrussca learned to grow, to hunt and survive together, and Zassaliss took Sarengo’s crown for himself. Now fully matured adders, they were the terror of every creature unfortunate enough to behold them. They were cold, swift, poisonous and deadly. Killers three, with none to oppose their ever-widening territory.

The dreadful trio slithered together through the night-dark woodlands, their tongues flickering as they used them to quest the air for prey.

Separated, they might have been totally silent, but joined in unison the adders could not prevent the swish of grass caused by their dragging tails and the mace handle constantly trailing behind them. However, their combined speed and ferocity proved a deadly combination.

An old crow soon found this out to its cost. The bird, who had injured its wing and could not follow its kin, stood dozing on a low-dipping hawthorn branch. The crow heard the rustling grass far too late. Sesstra tugged the slender tree limb, toppling the ancient bird down into the gaping mouths of her two brothers. She joined them speedily, eager not to miss her share of the quarry.

Rigid with terror, the crow stared up at three pairs of eyes peering down at it.

Sssssleep, do not sssssquawk or sssscreech!

Ssssssleep in sssssilence and darknessssss!

Do not dissssssturb otherssssss, we need to hunt more thissssss night!

24

Dawn’s first pale light washed gently in over a calm sea. A lone gull’s plaintive call echoed to the opening day. Scarum sat at the tiller taking dogwatch, the shortest duty, as darkness gave way to light. The incorrigible young hare eyed his two companions, sleeping in the bows with the ship’s rations between them. In the hope of waking Sagax and Kroova to make breakfast, as he was not allowed to touch the food, Scarum began composing a ditty and singing it aloud: O the life of a handsome young hare is sad, Jolly sad, believe you me,

With two rotten measly grubswipin’ mates, He sails the bloomin’ sea.

He’s considered rude if he begs for food, Tut tut, that’s far too bad.

He’s bossed by an otter who’s nought but a rotter, An’ a badger well known as a cad!

Sing hey fol dee dee, sail hither an’ there, Spare a tear for a famished young hare.

If this hare should die, would his comrades cry?

Wot wot, fat chance I’d say,

They’d cook skilly’n’duff, laugh hearty an’ rough, Scoff pudden an’ chortle all day.

As for that pitiful, starved-to-death chap, Why, they’d toss him over the side,

Where a rotten great shark, just for a lark, Would be waitin’ with mouth open wide!

Sing hey fol dee doh, through storm an’ bad fogs, Just look at ‘em snorin’ like hogs.

So all you jolly young handsome hares,

Pay heed to my sad tale.

Beware those blinkin’ bounders who want

To take you for a sail.

They’ll snigger an’ whoop, as your poor ears droop, An’ make flamin’ insultin’ remarks,

Just bid ‘em farewell, an’ hop into the sea.

You’re far better off with the sharks!

Sing hey fol dee doh, I’ve still got my pride, So ignore me ‘cos I’ve just died!

Kroova opened one eye and nudged Sagax. I ‘ope ole Scarum means that.

At least we’ll get a bit o’ peace!

Sagax replied with both eyes still closed, No such luck, mate, he’s too hungry to die. Oh well, we’d better get up and see about breakfast.