Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

Gruven peered through the curtain of rain spilling from the ledge. "Yore the Bowbeast, Vallug. Put Grobait out of 'is misery."

Turning to Gruven, the big ferret smiled wickedly. "That 'un ain't worth wastin' an arrow on. But if it was you out there, well, I'd use an arrow, mebbe even two or three. I wouldn't consider 'em wasted on you ... Chief!"

Chapter 15

Very slowly Tagg drew his blade, whispering to Nimbalo, amid the hissing and slithering, "Pass me my cloak, mate. Do it very carefully; don't make any quick or sudden moves. When I shout, you must jump right out of this cave. Don't hang about for me. I'll be right behind you."

The otter put a paw behind his back, feeling Nimbalo pass him a corner of the cloak from his position at the cave mouth. Outside, the rain continued its onslaught. Below the cave there was a swirling, gurgling sound. The storm was filling up the dry bed of the stream. Tagg felt something dry and scaly slide over his footpaw. The weight and breadth of the reptile could mean only one thing. Adders!

The vicious hissing increased. He figured there were at least six snakes in the darkened cave. Now that they had scented other creatures and felt movement stir the air, they would be ready to strike with their poisonous fangs. Tagg acted with every fiber of his great strength and uncanny reflexes honed to their limit. Flinging the blanketlike cloak where he judged the adders to be gathered, he slashed low all about him and yelled, "Jump! Quick!"

The harvest mouse was actually in midair when, propelled by a massive back somersault, Tagg cannoned into him. With a resounding splash they both hit the water. The otter grabbed Nimbalo with one paw and shoved him high, clear of the flood. Tagg slashed out with the blade held in his other paw, right down the ugly head of a big adder, with almost half its body length extended as it struck. Hissing madly, it pulled back into the cave, its skull sliced to the bone.

Tagg shoved off, swimming strongly, following the current, with Nimbalo still held high, yelling shrilly, "Don't drop me! I can't swim!"

The otter was a powerful swimmer, even with one paw holding the harvest mouse clear of the swollen streamrace. He continued for quite a while, then his head broke the surface close to Nimbalo. "Are you all right, little mate?"

The mouse kicked and squirmed. "All right? I'm near drowned by this rain! Get me ashore!"

As soon as he spotted a rock, sticking sideways out of a fern patch a few lengths from the bank, Tagg abandoned the stream and set Nimbalo down. Slithering and sliding, they made their way up the bankside and stumbled to the welcome cover beneath the large stone chunk. Rolling thunder sounded more distant now; lightning flashed far off. Tagg wiped mud from his paws onto a fern and lay back.

"Storm's moving away now. The rain should slack off before dawn. Well, mate, we've lost our supplies and the cloak, but we're lucky. We could've lost our lives to those serpents back there."

Using his tail as a probe, Nimbalo dug mud from his left ear. "Gave me a good ride, didn't ye, big feller? I was foolin', y'know; I'm a champion swimmer really. Faster'n a fish, that's me!"

Tagg went along with the joke, knowing his friend was lying. "Well, you scoundrel, I never knew you could swim, and me carrying you all that way, swimming with three paws an' a rudder. Rascal!"

Nimbalo tweaked Tagg's ear affectionately. "Never mind, pal. Next time I'll swim an' hold youup over the water, I promise!"

Tagg chuckled. "I'll keep you to that promise, you rogue."

Sleep was out of the question. They sat watching the rain. It had slackened somewhat, but was still quite heavy, with a light breeze beginning to drive it sideways. Tagg sat Nimbalo on the lee side, taking most of the wetness on his right side. Nimbalo peered out onto the rainswept plain. "Can you see a light out there?"

Tagg saw the dimly flickering glow. "Aye, and it's coming this way."

They sat still and silent, the otter gripping his blade, as the light got closer. Nimbalo screwed his eyes up against the rain. "It's some ole beast carryin' a lantern!"

Tagg slid the blade back into his belt and moved over a bit, to make room for the newcomer. It was an ancient shrew, bent almost double, covered in a blanket cloak and hobbling along with the aid of a blackthorn stick, Groaning faintly, he put the lantern down and sat between them. Throwing back his cloak hood, the shrew dug a spotted kerchief from it and wiped his whiskers.

"Filfy night 'tis, plain filfy. Yew nearly fell into me den as youse climbed the bank back there. Hoho, that woulda been wot y'call droppin' in fer a visit, wouldn't it, me ole cullies?"

He tapped the side of his lantern, and about six fireflies flared their tiny lights in response. The ancient shrew cackled. "Heeheehee! I'd got 'ere sooner, but I 'ad to feed me pals. A liddle 'oney'n'water, that's all they needs. Sparky bugs, they are. Now, wot are youse two doin' out 'ere on a night like this?"

Tagg allowed Nimbalo to act as spokesbeast. "We was about to ask you the same, me ole greysnout."

The shrew tapped Nimbalo's paw with his stick. "Yore an 'ardfaced liddle 'arvest mousey. Wot's yore name, eh?"

"Nimbalo the Slayer. Everybeast 'round 'ere knows me!"

The shrew sucked his toothless gums, looking Nimbalo up and down. "Well, I don't, but I'll tell ye why I'm 'ere, Lamino, I come t'see if'n youbeasts was needin' shelter in me den. 'Tain't much, but it's all mine, an' 'tis dry too. So, wot d'ye say, Limbow? Does you an' yore big silent brudder want a night's lodgin', eh?"

Tagg touched his paw to his nose politely. "Thankee, that'd be very nice. My name's Tagg, sir."

The old one arose creakily and picked up his lantern. "Well, my name's, er, er, Ruskem. Hah, 'tis so long since anybeast spoke it I'd almost forgotten. Come on, then, Tugg, foller me. Come on, Minaglo, you can carry the lantern."

As they made their way back to the bank, Nimbalo whispered, "Wish he'd get me name right!"

Tagg wiped rainwater from his eyes. "Don't get too upset, mate; Ruskem has trouble remembering his own name, poor old beast. He must live all alone."

Ruskem's den entrance was near the banktop above the waterline. He ushered them in with his stick. "In 'ere, Togg an' Ninnybo, this is me ole den."

It was tiny inside. Tagg had to bend his head to avoid the ceiling. However, it was homely and comfortable, with a turf fire glowing in a stone hearth, an armchair, a bed, and thick rugs of woven moss and reeds carpeting the floor. Ruskem produced a ladle and two polished elm bowls, which he proceeded to fill from a big cauldron hanging over the fire.

"Shrewburgoo, that's wot 'tis, an' don't ask me wot's in it. That pot ain't been empty since I don't know when. I just adds to it aught I c'n find, berries, fruit, roots an' all manner o' things. One fer you, Numbowl, an' the big bowl fer Tigg. There's a kettle o' mint'n'comfrey tea on the 'earth, so 'elp yoreselves."

The shrewburgoo tasted wholesome and filling, though some parts of it tasted sweet and other bits were definitely savory. Ruskem poured them tea, and saw Nimbalo's eyelids start to droop.

"Yore in need o' slumbertime, Binflow. I'll sleep in me chair, you take the bed. Fogg, yore too big fer either. You kin sleep on the rugs, they're nice an' soft."

Nimbalo swigged his tea off, flopped on the bed and fell asleep without further ado. Ruskem sat in his chair and sighed. "Don't tell me yore story, Wagg. It'll tire me ole brain out."

Tagg was gazing around the walls, which were filled with pieces of slate. Each one had a skillfully executed portrait of a shrew's face on it, some male, others female. The otter smiled. "Oh, I won't tell you my story, Ruskem, it bores me listening to it. These are good pictures. Who did them?"