Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

Still holding the knife in his teeth, Tagg massaged the life back into his limbs. The otter's head was banging and he was sore all over from the fight. But he was alive. Sheltered from the moonlight, it was totally dark in the tree shadow. Tagg still did not know what type of creature he was up against. It was not quite his height, but much bulkier. Suddenly it sat bolt upright, laughing madly.

"Hahaha! So you stayed t'get yourself killed, eh?"

Tagg did a forceful twirl. His rudderlike tail thwacked hard, right across his opponent's forehead, sending it down again. Like a flash he was upon it, straddling the creature's chest, his blade across its throat. "Be still! Still, I say! Don't move, or you'll be the one who gets killed. Be still, I warn you!"

Two glittering eyes grinned wildly up at him. "Hahahaha! Kill me then, vermin. Go on, get it over with!"

Reversing the knife, Tagg thwacked his opponent between the eyes, stunning it again. Piecing together the thongs that had bound him, he tied an end around one of the beast's paws. He dragged it upright and slammed it face forward against the nearest alder. Running the thong around the trunk, he tied it to the beast's other paw and let it slump down into a sitting position, paws spread, embracing the tree it was bound to. Tagg staggered down to the water's edge and lay flat in the shallows, letting the cold streamwater wash the aches from his body. Then, feeling refreshed, he went to where he had hidden his coracle and found the pack of supplies given him by the voles. Having eaten a few small cakes of oats and dried fruit, he drank some pear cordial and felt much better.

Tagg curled up in the coracle and dozed away the remaining night hours with his blade held ready. At dawn's first light he strolled cautiously back up to the clearing. His prisoner was still there, bound to the tree, sitting with its forehead resting against the trunk, muttering away.

"Vermin won't escape me, oh no, I'll track him an' bring him back an' watch him die, nice an' slow. Beggin', pleadin' an' moanin', just like all scum-mouthed vermin do."

As Tagg got closer, he realized it was a squirrel, a big old strong female, clad in a tunic of what looked to be skins of weasels, rats and foxes. Tagg sat down in a spot where the squirrel could see him and spoke to her quietly.

"Why did you try to kill me? I'm not a vermin."

She stared at him scathingly awhile, then answered, "Painted face, gold earring, eelskin belt, fancy patterned wristbands, an' you tell me you're no vermin. You even carry an assassin's blade. Don't tell me you ain't a vermin. Go an' take a look at yourself in a shady pool down by the stream. Go on, then come back here an' tell me what you see . . . vermin!"

"Karrr, she be right, she be right, vermin you be!"

Drawing his blade, Tagg whirled around to face the eavesdropper. A large male bittern, practically invisible because of his brown, black and fawn plumage, came up from the riverbank reeds. Stalking gracefully along on thick green legs, he halted between Tagg and the squirrel, splaying his strong talons and poking a long needle-pointed beak in the otter's direction.

"Kaburrrrr! You fool, not Botarus. I see verminbeasts, hunting the banks they be. On this stream, both sides. Kurrrrrr!"

Tagg nodded, knowing now that hunters had been sent after him. "How many of them? Where are they now?"

The black iris of the bittern's umber eye widened. "Think you I be fool? I tell and you be calling them to you."

The squirrel gave an insane chuckle. "Hahaha! Let him call 'em. You free me, Botarus, an' I'll kill 'em all, every murderin' vermin mother's son of 'em!"

Tagg stowed the knife in his belt. 'The last thing I want to do is call them. I'm not a vermin, they're the vermin. They've been sent to hunt me down and slay me!"

Botarus put his head on one side, the bright eye questioning. "You they hunt, these vermin? For why?"

Tagg did not want to go into the long story, so he made up an answer that was not far from the truth.

"I am an otter, see. I am not ferret, fox, rat, weasel or stoat. I was captured by them, and they tried to make me a vermin too. I escaped, and now they hate me and want to kill me."

The bittern pondered Tagg's answer before replying, "Krrrrrrum! Then why want you to kill my friend?"

Tagg pointed to the squirrel. "Her? I had no intention of killing her, she wanted to kill me! I was only protecting myself. That's why I had to tie her up!"

Botarus looked at the squirrel and nodded toward Tagg. "Krrrror! Riverdog he be, truth I think he speaks!"

Tagg tapped his rudder impatiently on the grass. Drawing his blade, he slashed through the thong, freeing the squirrel. "There, is that good enough for you two?"

The squirrel bounded upright, pointing an accusing paw at him. "Then why d'you look an' dress like a vermin eh?"

Botarus held his position between both creatures. "Krrrrrrr! Told you that already the riverdog has. Where be you going on yonder volecraft?"

Tagg pointed north. "To the mountain."

Botarus preened his chest feathers carefully. "Karrrrr. Go ye not by water in the volecraft. Ahead of you they be the vermin. Seeing not your craft, passed by here yesterday they did. Here leave your craft. Overland go, sweep 'round west by north. To the path I will take you myself."

Tagg bowed his head politely. "Thank you, Botarus. Wait, please, I'll get my food."

Tagg went back to the coracle and collected his stores, Botarus and the squirrel following him. The squirrel watched him shoulder his supply sack. "Give me the food. I want it!"

Tagg did not like the tone of his former foe's voice. However, he emptied some food out onto the ground, adding a flask of drink. "Here is half of what I have. I need food for myself. You can take the coracle too, and if any vole asks you how you came by it, tell them it was a gift from me, Tagg."

The squirrel inspected the boat as Tagg gathered up his cloak. He turned to see her brandishing the paddle.

"Your blade, it's a good one, I'll have that too!"

Botarus shot out his long leg and knocked the paddle out of the squirrel's paws. He glared fiercely at her. "Enough you have, Madd. Stop you here now. With me Tagg goes, back I'll be by eventide. Riverdog Tagg, come you!"

The otter gave a wary berth to the squirrel, who picked up the paddle and shook it at him.

"Hahaha! Come back this way sometime an' visit me. So that I can kill you, vermin. Hahahahahaaaa!"

Tagg and Botarus made their way through the alders and into sparser woodlands. Tagg sighed with relief.

"Thank you, Botarus. I'm glad to be shut of that beast. I heard you call her Madd. Is that her name?"

The big bittern shrugged. "Mad she be, so Madd I call her. She knows not any other name."

Tagg strode swiftly to keep pace with Botarus. "Madd is a good name for her. She's a nasty dangerous beast."

"Krrrror, so would you be, were you her," Botarus commented dryly. "Killed her family, vermin did, for dead they left her. Three days lay she there. Found her I did, wound in her head, deep, so deep. Any otherbeast 'twould have killed outright. Together now we've been, long long seasons. Not easy to get along with is Madd."

Tagg smiled at the bittern. "Then why do you stay with her?"

Botarus smiled back, the gleam in his eyes sudden and savage. "I like not the vermin either. As mad as her am sometimes."

Approaching midday they reached the limits of the woodlands. Tagg could see the mountain clearly slightly off to his right, still far off. Botarus pointed his beak out across the flatlands and outlined the route.

"Go you that way, 'twill keep ye clear o' the stream and your enemies. Krrrr, watch you, Tagg, there be drylands an' wetlands before foothills you reach. Live there many reptiles do, active in summer they be. Tread you careful an' fare you well!"