Brian Jacques - Redwall #16 - Triss

Breathless and fearful, the Dibbuns took temporary refuge against the massive trunk of an ancient spreading oak. Still clutching one another’s paws, they stood with their backs against the rough bark. Ruggum cast an angry glance at the skies, resentful of the trick played on him by the elements. Bikkle, scared out of her wits by the stormy event, began to whimper.

Me not like alia this, ho no, not one likkle bit!

Ruggum pulled her around to what appeared to be the lee side of the oak. She gave a sudden squeak. Yeek!

The Dibbun mole blew a sigh of frustration. Worra matta now, marm? B’aint so windy this yurr soide.

Bikkle turned to face the tree. Likkle door wiv words on it, see?

It was a door, let into the broad oak trunk low down.

Ruggum traced the word carved on it with his digging claw. Oi wonders wot ee wurd do say, Bikk?

Bikkle shrugged. I non’t know. Open a door afore uz gets soaked an’

drowned.

Moss, soil and dead vegetation had built up under the door. Ruggum found a stout stick and levered at it whilst Bikkle shoved hard. The door scrunched against the ground as it gave way, fraction by fraction, opening inward. Groaning rusty hinges popped free and the whole thing heeled crazily. This left a space through which they could both enter.

Some Guosim shrews, who had been on their way to visit Redwall, met up with Skipper and his two otters as they entered the fringes of Mossflower.

Spiky-furred little creatures with coloured headbands and short kilts, they all carried rapiers in their broad belts. Guosim were known by the initials of their kind, Guerilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower, and they were traditional friends and allies of Redwall Abbey. Their Chieftain held the title Log a Log. He was always the toughest and wisest of the shrews.

Skipper saluted them cheerily, hugging the leader affectionately.

Haharr, Log a Log Groo, you ole stream-whomper. Yore just the laddo we’re lookin’ for. I bring ye a message from the Abbot.

Groo and his twenty shrews listened as Skipper told them of the two lost Dibbuns. They agreed to help with the search, one of them piping up from the back, We’ll find the liddle snips, an’ old Gooch the Cook’ll reward us with double’elpings of everything. Yum yum!

Log a Log Groo cast a severe eye over the speaker. I’ll reward ye with a pair o’ boxed ears, m’laddo. We don’t need no rewards fer helpin’

friends. That ain’t the Guosim way.

Skipper chuckled. No offence, mate, I know wot yore pal meant. We’ll all get double’elpings if’n we find the Dibbuns. Come on.

They struck off into the woods and soon picked up a trail.

Ruggum and Bikkle stayed in the entranceway of the hole from which an old flight of steps ran down into the darkness beyond. Neither felt brave enough to venture any further. They stood in the doorway, where it was sheltered from the rain. Again, the little mole traced the lettering on the door. He was unable to read or write. Oi wonder wot thiz yurr place be called? Bikkle stared at the lettering, blinked and yawned. Sleepwas beginning to overcome her. The word on the door was written thus: Brockhall.

She pretended that she could read and translated. I can read words better’n you, Rugg. It say, hide in ‘ere from d’rain, Burr, you’m makin’ et oop!

No I not!

Yuss you bee’s!

Bikkle was tired and not prepared to continue the argument, so she changed the subject. Wonder wot down dose steps?

The molebabe ventured to the top step and peered downward into the gloom.

Sumthio’ shoiny!

Bikkle scoffed. You not see’d sumthin’ shiny down d’steps.

Ruggum was a molebabe born to argue. Ho, yuss oi did!

Bikkle sat down. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes, not wanting to get into another debate with her stubborn friend. Well, if it bee’s nice’n’shiny, you go an’ gerrit f’me.

Ruggum needed no second bidding, he was overcome with curiosity. Roight, then, oi’ll goo an’ gerrit to show ee oi speaked true!

Nerving himself up, he descended the steps, hugging the side wall closely.

Bikkle dozed off amid visions of Cavern Hole and a wonderful meal of hot plum pudding with creamy almond sauce, and a beaker of strawberry cordial. She was very partial to anything with the flavour of strawberries. But she was instantly brought back to reality by the sound of a gruff mole shriek, as Ruggum came out of the gloom like a dark-furred cannonball, a shiny golden object gripped in one paw. He grabbed Bikkle with his free paw and pulled her along, out into the rain and wind.

Whooooaaarrr! Coom on! Quick loike!

Bikkle dug her footpaws in, reluctant to be out in the weather. However, the look of shock and dumb terror on Ruggum’s face and the fearful glance he shot over his shoulder at the dark hole behind them soon decided her. Wordlessly she ran headlong beside him, out into the darkness of the storm-torn woodlands.

Brambles snagged their smocks, sodden shrubbery made them stumble, rain beat in their faces. Both Dibbuns fled as though a pack of foxes were after them.

Over here, I see ‘em, there they go!

The strange gruff-sounding voice sent them scurrying even faster, hearts pounding fearfully, sobbing for breath. Suddenly they were seized in a grip of iron. Their tiny footpaws left the ground as they were whirled high into the air.

Haharr, gotcher, me liddle beauties!

6

Skipper of otters held the two limp figures close to him. Log a Log Groo took a swift look at them, shaking his head reprovingly at the otter Chieftain.

Wot were ye thinkin’ of, y’great riverdog? You gone an’ scared the liddle’uns right out their senses. Pouncin’ on’em like that, shame on ye!

Skipper’s face was such a picture of dismay that Log a Log was forced to smile. He clapped his friend’s back. No real harm done, Skip. They’re safe enough now. Let’s get’em back to Redwall. Memm Flackery an’ ole Malbun’ll soon’ave the rascals as right as rain!

Skipper covered the unconscious pair with his cloak. Ain’t nothin’ right about rain, matey. Don’t tell Memm or Malbun this, or they’ll’ave me rudder for rugstrings!

Gurdle Sprink and old Crikulus were keeping watch on the northeast wall battlements. Peering out into the rainswept night, they held their lanterns high.

The Cellarhog was first to hear Skipper’s powerful shout. Ahoy the Abbey, anybeast’ome? We’re comin’ in!

Crikulus swung his lantern to and fro as Gurdle yelled, Come in by the northeast wicker gate, Skip me ole mate!

Hurrying down the wallstairs, the Gatekeeper and the Cellarhog withdrew the bolts on a small gate in the centre of the rampart wall. He held up his lantern.

Over’ere, Skip! Hah, I see you got some Guosim with ye. Welcome, friends, get in’ere outta the weather. Well well, ye found the Dibbuns. Good trackin’, pals!

Blankets were laid near the hearth in front of the fire at Cavern Hole.

Abbot Apodemus watched anxiously as Malbun Grimp tended to the little ones’ bruises and scratches. Skipper warmed his paws by the blaze.

Groo spotted’em east an’ a touch north in the woodlands. I’m surprised two babes could’ve gotten that far alone.

Memm Flackery held a small camphor vial under the Dibbuns’ noses.

Screwing their faces, they coughed and whined as they began to come around. The Harenurse spoke without looking up. Huh, I’m never surprised at anythin’ flippin’ Dibbuns can get up to, wot. Especially these two fiends, wot wot? f say, Groo old lad, what’s that thing you’ve got there?

Log a Log Groo passed the shining object over to the Abbot. It fell from the molebabe’s paw when Skipper grabb ... er, picked’im up.’Tis’eavy enough, I tell ye.