Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

Rabbad enlightened him. "Even otters can't swim at full speed all the time, especially agin the currents. We're makin' good time, travelin' fast. If'n 'e was swimmin', we'd 'ave caught up with 'im afore now. So the otter must be usin' a fast boat like Eefera sez."

Gruven turned their attention away from his stupidity by sniggering as Milkeye, who had fallen far behind, came staggering crazily along the bank to join them.

"Oh, look who's arrived! What're ye pantin' an' slobberin' for, deadlamp? Is the goin' too tough for yer? Don't go lyin' down. We're movin' off soon. Where's the pears I sent yer for?"

Milkeye collapsed on the bank, unable to move an inch further. "Water, mates . . . water!"

Gruven looked up at the weasel, huddled on the banktop. "Idle hound. There's plenty o' water right here. Come an' get it yoreself. What d'ye think we are, skivvies?"

Eefera made his way up the bank. Crouching beside Milkeye, he raised the weasel's head. "Wot's wrong with ye? Have y'taken a sickness?"

Milkeye's face was beginning to bloat, and his one good eye was half shut and red-rimmed. He clasped Eefera's paw feebly. "Pain, all over . . . I'm burnin' up .. . Water!"

Eefera cast about until he found a large dock leaf. "All right, mate, I'll get ye some water."

He was halfway down the bank when Milkeye made a horrible gurgling noise. His paws thrashed about momentarily, and then he went still. Grobait prodded him with a footpaw.

"Milkeye's dead! By the blood'n'fang, wot d'ye think of that?"

They weighted the body down with a few stones lashed to its middle and threw it into the stream. Eefera and Vallug then conferred as to the group's next move. Gruven joined the rest, foraging for berries and birds' nests, smarting with resentment because the two self-appointed leaders were ignoring him. He returned with a pawful of dandelion roots and two apples and boldly sat himself down next to the Bowbeast.

"Well, what's our next move?"

Vallug pointed with one of his arrows at the far bank. "We need to scout both sides o' the water. The otter could be leavin' tracks on the other edge."

Gruven chuckled nervously. "I'm not swimmin' across there. 'Tis deep an' fast."

Vallug shot him a glance that dripped contempt. "You won't 'ave to, yore stayin' this side with me .. . Chief. For all the use you'll be," he added under his breath.

Eefera waded into the stream to test the current. He was almost swept off his footpaws, and Vallug had to reach out his bow to help him back to the bank. "Young mudbrain's right," the weasel muttered to Vallug, out of Gruven's hearing. "It is too deep'n'fast, an' there's trailin' weeds that wrap around the paws, too. I think I stepped on ole Milkeye's carcass trapped in 'em. We'll ford it further along."

They spent the remainder of the afternoon trekking along the bank, searching for a spot where a crossing could be made. Unwittingly the hunters went right past the place on the opposite side where Tagg had pulled in and hidden the coracle. Toward evening, they halted beyond a bend where the stream eddied, prior to increasing its speed when it hit the straight. Eefera favored the spot.

"Water swirls a bit 'ere, but it ain't so bad. See, there's reeds stickin' up near t'other side, no current there. This'll do to cross. Ribrow, Grobait an' Rabbad, you come with me. The rest of ye stay this side with Vallug."

Holding paws, the four vermin entered the stream, with Eefera in the lead. At the center they had to hold their heads back, chins up. Rabbad spat out a mouthful of water. "I didn't think it'd be this deep. We might 'ave tswim fer it!"

Eefera, who was slightly taller, silenced the fox. "It gets shallower from 'ere to the bank. Keep goin'. You let go of anybeast's paws an' we're all in trouble!"

There were no shallows on the other side. The bank was a rock ledge that dropped straight down, so the stream remained the same depth as at its center. However, there was little or no current near the far side. Eefera entered the reeded area, which slowed progress. "Nearly there now ... Yowch, I'm bit!"

Disregarding his own instructions, Eefera loosed Grobait's paw and floundered as fast as he could to the bank. Grabbing the rock ledge, he hauled himself out with panicked energy.

His actions caused chaos among the other three. They let go of each other; it was everybeast for himself. The water began threshing with big ugly mottled brown fish as a shoal of burbot attacked from their base in the reedbeds. Lying flat on the bank, Eefera extended his spearpole to Grobait. Shrieking aloud, the rat grabbed the spear, hauling himself along on it. "Yaaaargh! One of 'em's got me!"

As he clambered up the bank, Eefera took a rock and pounded on the broad frightening head of a big burbot, which had its teeth sunk into Grobait's backside. The stoat Ribrow, who had been last on the chain of linked paws, pushed away from the reeds and swam awkwardly, but fast, back to the other bank, pursued by two burbot, their rounded backfins cutting the water behind him. Vallug Bowbeast dispatched one expertly with a well-aimed arrow. Rawback and Dagrab ran into the shallows, beating off the other with sticks as Ribrow stumbled ashore, his eyes wide with fear.

Rabbad was the unlucky one. He screamed in agony as several of the huge fish attacked him. Turning, he tried to emulate Ribrow by swimming back to the far bank, only to meet the one who had been driven away by Rawback and Dagrab's sticks. Gruven stood horrified as he watched the fox being pulled down by the burbot shoal. Monstrous heads, with two short spikes protruding from their nostrils and a long one trailing from the chin, reared open-mouthed out of the water to rip at the helpless fox. He screeched shrilly as the water reddened around him. More burbot, and two large pike, came skimming to the fray, attracted by the blood swirling in the stream. Rabbad went under, the water stifling his last cries.

The bedraggled vermin stood stunned, staring at the eddying, bloodied waters where he had disappeared. Vallug was the first to move. Wading in, he reached out with his bow, trapping the arrow that was sticking out of the burbot he had shot. He pulled it in to shore, inspecting the long heavy body with its sharp dorsal fin and fan-shaped tail, and called across to Eefera, "Bad fortune on Rabbad, dinner for us. I see you got a fish too!"

"Aye, but it nearly ate Grobait's be'ind," the weasel answered, pointing to his companion. "We'll stop 'ere t'night an' start trackin' again at dawn."

Gruven gazed hungrily at the burbot grilling over a fire, spitted on a green willow branch, watching Vallug prod it with an arrow to see if it was ready. "Wot sort of fish d'ye call that ugly monster?"

Ribrow had seen them before. "Burbot."

Gruven nodded, drawing closer to the fire. "Burbot, eh? It should make good eatin'."

Vallug continued prodding the fish as it sputtered over the fire. "Well, I'm the only one who'll find that out, 'cos I killed it. Go an' catch yer own fish if'n you want one. This 'un's mine!"

Gruven's voice went shrill with indignation. "Lookit Eefera. He's sharin' his with Grobait."

Vallug chuckled dryly. "So 'e should. They caught it t'gether, an' Grobait's bottom was the bait. Huh huh! Grobait. .. bait! That's a good 'un!"

Rawback, Dagrab and Ribrow knew better than to ask Vallug Bowbeast for a share of his fish. They remained silent, gnawing roots and apples. But Gruven felt a sense of injustice, and he said so.

"Lissen, Vallug, I'm supposed to be yore Chief. I should get a share of that fish!"

The big ferret had just taken a piece and was chewing on it. He spat out a bone and turned to face Gruven. "Then try an' take it... Chief!"

Gruven knew the others were watching him. He decided the moment had come to show them who was leader, and his paw strayed to the sword thrust through his belt. Vallug leaped forward and floored him with a hefty punch to the nose, then stood over him. "I'll tell yer who they'll call Chief, the beast who brings back that otter's 'ead! An' I tell yer, snotnose, it won't be you. We all saw the Taggerung give you a wallopin' back at camp. You ain't no Chief, Gruven; yore mama's tougher'n you. Ole Grissoul will make up a load of mumbo jumbo fer the one who slays the otter, the one who's tough enough t'do it, an' that'll be the clan leader. So you keep outta my way, unless ye want to die. I got no time fer bigmouthed fools, see! You was nothin' but a snivelin' cub when Sawney brought that otter into our camp. I was the one who slew 'is father, an' I'll be the one to slay the son too!"