Brian Jacques - Redwall #15 - The Taggerung

Tagg slept knife in paw by the fire, his dreams teeming with red warriors and clanging bells. Sometimes he saw the mouse warrior, and he too was red. Tagg called after him, "Deyna, Deyna!"

The mouse warrior raised his sword and called back, "Martin!" Everything became jumbled then, the face of Sawney Rath, poor dead pigmy shrews buried beneath the avalanche of debris, then Vallug Bowbeast, grimacing evilly as he notched an arrow to his bow. The Bowbeast loosed the shaft, Tagg's mind flew back to the soft red room, and he saw the otter's face clearly. Except for the tattoos, he felt as if he were looking at himself. It was his father! Tagg felt the arrow strike his heart and water splash his face as he fell back into the ford.

"Wake up, mate. Lookit wot's 'appened to yore prisoner!" Nimbalo was crouching over him in the early dawn, splashing ice-cold mint and rosehip tea from a bowl onto Tagg's face. "Come on, matey, look, they brought us brekkist!"

Bodjev and Alfik were waiting, with a lot of Cavemob shrews, all carrying weapons. Tagg went over to where Ribrow lay dead, stiff as a board. Tagg looked up, his expression hardening. Alfik grinned. "A mornin' to ye, big fella, yikyik! No worry 'bout tharra one, 'e norra comin' wirrus. Ho no. Dink dink, like snakeyfish. Now 'e nomore kill Cavemobs!"

Seeing Tagg's face, Nimbalo stood between the otter and the shrew. "Ye can't blame 'em, matey. Ole Ribrow didn't show much mercy to the pore Cavemob beasts that 'e killed. They want t'come with us an' slay the others. We've got our own liddle army!"

Tagg did not want the Cavemob along with him, and decided to convince Bodjev dramatically. Drawing his blade, he laid it across both paws and held it forth to the Chieftain.

"O great Chieftain of the Cavemob, I thank you for your help. But we must travel alone, far and wide, to find the vermin and slay them. You cannot march off and leave your beloved mountain unguarded. Who is strong enough to rule with you gone? I will seek out your enemies and punish them for you. Because . . ." Tagg performed a mighty somersault, right over the astounded shrews, and landed brandishing the blade and roaring, "Because I am the Taggerung, faster than the wind and more deadly than a serpent's tooth. I am Taggerung, I slew Yo Karr!"

Sweeping Nimbalo up onto his shoulder, the big otter bounded off with massive speed and energy. The harvest mouse clung tight to his friend's neck, dawn breeze rushing past as they dashed through the rowans and rocks, shale spurting right and left. Nimbalo gripped Tagg's neck tighter and tighter, shouting in his ear, "Slow down, ye great madbeast. Don't trip, or ye'll kill us both!"

Pounding over rocks, leaping streams and dashing over turf and sedge they went. The sun was well up when Tagg slackened his pace to a fast lope. "They never followed us, did they, mate?"

Nimbalo brought his head around to stare into the otter's eyes. "Follow us, those fat short-pawed liddle maggots? Are you jokin', matey? An eagle would've 'ad trouble tryin' to toiler us!"

Tagg laughed at his friend's windswept face. "Good, so d'you mind not trying to strangle me, please!"

"Right, then put me down. My pore paws've gone t'sleep tryin' to 'ang on up 'ere for so long!"

The otter put his friend down and slowed his pace. They walked along together, enjoying the warm summer morning. Nimbalo stopped. "Lissen, can you 'ear that?"

Instantly alert, Tagg drew his blade. "Hear what?"

Nimbalo patted his stomach and pulled a mournful face. "That! We left a good brekkist and travelin' packs o' food back there when you took to leapin' 'round. I'm starvin'!" Then Tagg's stomach rumbled so loudly that they both laughed.

"Aye, I'm a bit peckish too, mate. Let's keep going and see what we can find. By the way, I think we're completely lost."

Nimbalo took their bearings. "Well, there's the mountain be'ind us. I think I saw a stream up yonder when I was on yore shoulders. So let's make for the stream an' follow it. Might find some eats over that way."

It was a narrow stream, getting dryer as the summer progressed, high-banked and muddied in the shallows with reeds and marshy-looking plants sprouting through the water. Clouds of midges flew everywhere. Tagg kept brushing a paw across his face and swatting at them.

"Whew! It's not much fun down in this streambed. What d'you say we go back up on the bank? At least we won't get eaten alive."

Nimbalo was a stubborn little beast. He stuck to his original idea. "No, no, let's carry on down 'ere awhile. If it gets no better beyond that bend, then we'll go up on the bank."

As they rounded the bend they were faced with a curious sight. It looked like a huge ball of dried mud, almost as tall as Tagg. The curious part was that it could talk in a well-educated squeak.

"Help! Assistance! Anybeast, please take pity on me. Hello, is there another creature out there? Answer me, I beg you!"

The mud had set, dry and solid in the sun. Tagg approached and knocked on it, his paw making a hollow sound. He put his mouth close. "Hello? Anybeast at home? What d'you want us to do? I'm an otter and I have a harvest mouse with me. I'm Tagg, and he's Nimbalo."

The reply was polite, but with an edge of urgent impatience. "I'll tell you what I require, I want you to dispense with the formalities and get me out of here before I suffocate. Now, can you do that, sir? Answer yes or no, please!"

Tagg got busy hacking away dried mud with his blade. "Yes!"

Nimbalo found a big club, carved from sycamore root, and dragged it across to Tagg. "See wot y'can do with this, mate!"

Tagg swung the club, dealing the mudball several good blows. Dust and dried mud clods showered him. "I'm not hurting you, am I?" he called out. "Are you all right in there?"

The reply was shaky, but still rather urgent. "As well as can be expected, my dear fellow. Kindly continue."

Tagg battered away forcefully until the mud prisoner called to him, "Stop! Desist, I pray. I'd be most upset if you slew me with my own club, sir, most upset!"

When the dust cleared, they were facing a hedgehog, hanging awkwardly out of a half ball of dried mud. Blinking dust from his eyes, he sneezed.

"Kachoooh! Beg pardon. Ah, I see you have a knife. Would you be so good as to cut this rope? But mind my snout, I pray you."

Tagg saw that a rope ran through the center of the hedgehog's face from spikes to chin. He severed it with a swift slice of the blade. The hedgehog began straining and gasping as the mud started to crack from around his spiky bulk.

"Aaaaah, my thanks to you, sir. Uuuuuunh! Stand clear now!" He popped out free, leaving the rope and a considerable number of spikes embedded in his former prison. Splashing into the shallow stream, he lay on his back, wriggling and sighing. "Aaaaah, that's better. Ooooooh, that feels rather good!" Sitting up, he proffered a muddy paw. "Robald Forthright at your service, sirs. May I express my heartfelt thanks for your prompt actions here today!"

Nimbalo shook his paw. "Please t'meetcher I'm shore, mate, but 'ow didyer get into that blinkin' mess?"

Robald shook Tagg's paw, allowing the otter to help him upright. "Not by my own making, I assure you. Come to my humble abode and I will relate the incident to you in its entire dreadfulness."

Chapter 22

Robald's home was a turf hut up on the bank. It had been plundered and wrecked. The big stout hedgehog dug a broken-down old armchair from the wreckage, righted it, and dusted it off.

"They never found my emergency rations, fortunately for us." Removing a few slats of wood, he revealed a cupboard full of food. "Plumcake, damson cordial, nutcheese, fruit biscuits, spikebeer, candied apples and Great-Aunt Lollery's raisin teabread. They missed this little lot. Oh, don't stand on ceremony, help yourselves, friends. Don't worry about the mess, I'll clear up later."