Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

I can knock ye out flat with the wink of me eye,

You just ask any mousemaid, she'll blush an' she'll sigh,

He's a hero, Nimbalo the Slayer!"

Nimbalo turned and winked at Tagg. "Oh, I fergot to mention, I'm modest too!"

Summer evening shades began falling as the hot day drew to a close. The two friends made camp in a hollow on top of a rise. Tagg was pleasantly surprised by Nimbalo's foraging and cooking skills. Gathering dried turf, the otter lit a fire and awaited Nimbalo's return, as the harvest mouse had insisted on finding food by himself. Purpling layers of cloud backed the mountain, tapering off to gold and red toward the west, sweet aromas came from the turf fire. Tagg settled himself comfortably on the sandy slop of the dip, savoring the beauties of twilight. Nimbalo broke the spell on his return. He tossed a bunch of roots and vegetation onto Tagg's chest, leaping over the top of the rise and shouting, "Halloo the camp! Stir yore stumps, big feller, let's get supper goin'. I'm starved!"

Tagg inspected the tangle of vegetation. "What's all this, mate?"

Nimbalo rummaged cheerfully through the mass. "I can see yore used to woodland vittles. These are flatlands food. See, whitlow, tastes just like cabbage, pennycress, touch bitter, but nice. There's comfrey roots, pepperwort an' bindweed flowers. You'll like them, they're sweet."

Tagg sniffed the flowers appreciatively. "Hmm, lovely smell. Hope they taste as good. Ah, dandelion leaves and roots, wild strawberries and some blackberries. I've got some fruit and wild oatcakes the voles gave me and most of a flask of pear cordial."

Using both paws, Nimbalo hauled the blade from Tagg's belt. "Sounds good, mate. I'll start choppin' the salad with this sword of yours. Keep that fire low, though. Turf don't give off much smoke, it just glows. Those vermin you said was trackin' you, any idea where they might be?"

Tagg gestured to the mountain's east side. "Probably over that way. They were following a stream, so I went off in the opposite direction. I can't see them troubling us yet awhile. Maybe when we're on the mountain we might run into them. Do you carry a weapon, Nimbalo?"

Baring his teeth in a ferocious grin, the mouse replied, "These is all the weapons I need, mate, teeth an' paws. If I needs more you can cut me a big stick."

Their meal was frugal, but enjoyable. Nimbalo played a few tunes on his whistle and they sat by the fire, watching the night draw in. When Nimbalo stopped playing, the otter went to the top of the rise. He ducked as a group of swifts winged low over him, then he listened carefully. Nimbalo sprawled in the hollow, watching him.

"Wot's the matter, big feller? Somethin' up?"

Tagg slid down beside him. "Birds flying low, I thought I heard a far-off rumble, and the air feels heavy. There may be a storm on the way."

1 )usting sand from his tunic, the harvest mouse stood up. "I've been in more storms than an ole gull at sea. We'd better make a move an' find shelter. I tell ye, Tagg, you don't wanna get caught in a storm on these flatlands."

Lightning flared briefly beyond the mountain. Tagg gathered his cloak and pack together, hearing the distant thunder rumble. "Sounds like it'll be a bad one, mate. Come on!"

Complete darkness fell as the moon became shrouded by heavy cloud. They hurried along the dry bed of a stream, feeling the first heavy raindrops strike their heads, Tagg pulled his waterproof cloak over them both. Nimbalo pointed. "Lucky ole us, matey. There's a little cave in the side of the bank, I can just make it out."

Rain was sheeting straight down, lightning splitting the night skies in spectacular jagged rips and thunder booming overhead. Nimbalo skipped smartly up the bankside and held out a paw to his friend. "C'mon, ye great lump, inside afore ye get soaked!"

Tagg huddled in alongside Nimbalo. There seemed to be plenty of room. They lay in the entrance, the cloak draped over their heads, watching the awesome spectacle of the huge summer storm. Tagg shuddered and wriggled with pleasure.

"It's great to watch a big storm, especially when you're nice and dry and not caught out in it!"

The harvest mouse elbowed him roughly. "Be still, willyer? Near rolled over an' crushed me then!"

Tagg pulled himself back from the cave entrance. "Sorry, pal. I'll get back in here a bit. Hmm, this is quite a sizable cave. Maybe we could light another fire, what d'you think?"

Nimbalo turned around. He sniffed the interior air and froze. "Stay still, Tagg, stay still, fer pity's sake!"

Tagg answered him from the darkness. "Why?"

Rustling coils and venomous hissings told him the reason even before Nimbalo whispered it into the menace-laden blackness.

"Snakes!"

Following both sides of the stream course up into the foothills, the hunting party came together again. Vallug found a broad shallow expanse where he was able to lead his followers across by a series of stepping-stones that showed above the surface. They joined up with Eefera on the opposite side. Gruven saw Grobait resting, clutching a paw to his bottom, and sniggered. "I wouldn't let any fish take a chunk out o' my behind."

Eefera pushed roughly by him. "Easy fer you to say. You didn't even have t'get yore paws wet. Any luck with tracks on yore side, Vallug?"

"None. What about you?"

"None, same as you. What d'ye think? Will we be wastin' our time climbin' the mountain to look for 'im?"

Gruven interrupted them to air his opinion. "If no tracks lead up here, I reckon we're on a fool's errand. What's the point of climbin' a mountain? I said it was a stupid idea from the first!"

Even Grobait could not keep the patronizing tone out of his voice as he took it on himself to answer Gruven. "He was travelin' upstream, not down. This is the only place he could go. So wot's the use comin' this far an' not lookin' on the mountain fer the otter? Mebbe we didn't find any tracks, but he could've left the stream an' found an easier way up. We'd be the ones lookin' stupid, to come this far an' not even bother takin' a look up there!"

Gruven indicated Grobait's injury with a nod. "Well, you won't get far with that wound. Wot d'you plan on doin'?"

Grobait spat into the stream. "I'll keep up, don't fret yerself!"

Vallug had been sniffing the air. He turned moodily on them. "You'd better keep up, both of yer. See that rock ledge up yonder? I'm gettin' under it. The rest of ye'd best do the same if'n you don't want to get caught in the storm!"

Disregarding everybeast, Vallug started climbing. Gruven was about to make a smart retort when the first drops of rain splattered on his head. He joined the others following Vallug.

"Lend us a paw 'ere!" Grobait called as he struggled upright.

Gruven could not resist snickering an answer. "Why? You've already got four like the rest of us."

They huddled under the ledge as the rain began sheeting down. A thunderclap caused Ribrow to jump, and he touched the ledge above him nervously. "This mightn't be a safe place t'stay. S'pose the thunder an' lightnin' struck this mountain an' collapsed it down on us? We'd all be crushed to death by these rocks!"

Gruven snorted at the idea. "If yer frightened you don't have t'stay 'ere. Go an' sit out there with Grobait."

The injured rat had hardly moved. He lay by the swelling stream almost battered flat by the heavy downpour. Eefera stared callously at the prone figure. "That wound must've gone bad on 'im. He's been limpin' all day. Looks like 'is back leg's stiffened up an' gone useless."

A lightning flash illuminated Grobait's pitiful figure. "Don't lay out there," Dagrab shouted to him. "Come up 'ere!" None of them made a move to help the wounded rat. Vallug sneered.

"Grobait ain't goin' anywhere, unless the stream swells up an' sweeps 'im away in the night. Save yer breath, Dagrab."