Brian Jacques - Mossflower

Tsarmina ran to the water's edge, but halted at the sight of a dorsal fin

patrolling the river. Her voice was a hoarse scream.

"I am the Queen of the Thousand Eyes. I rule all Moss-flower. One time I might

have shown you mercy, but not now. This is war to the death—your death,

badger! Archers!"

Before an arrow could be strung, Bella had gone.

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The Screamhole was dark and slimy. Martin, Dinny and Log-a-Log landed with a

splash in muddy water. The mole slipped upon a smooth bulky object.

"Yurr, wot be that?" he wondered aloud, as he spat out fetid water.

"Don't hang about down there, matey. Here, reach up and I'll give you a lift."

The voice belonged to Gonff!

Martin and his friends looked up. They could not see daylight or hear the

toads. Above them was a hole in the pit wall; Gonff stood at its entrance,

holding a firefly lantern in his paw. The little mousethief looked dirty and

wet, but as cheerful as ever.

Martin was overjoyed. "Gonff, you old thief, is that really you?"

Their long-lost companion shook with silent mirth as he held up a cautionary

paw. "Shush, matey. Not so loud. You'll wake up the big feller. Here, grab

this vine and I'll pull you up."

Gonff hauled Martin up; together they pulled Log-a-Log and Dinny to safety.

All three shook water from their coats and warmly hugged the little

mousethief.

"Bring any rations with you, matey?" Gonff was hungry.

"Nay, 'ee toaden took'm all."

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Gonff looked disgusted. "Oh, that warty lot. I might've known."

Log-a-Log sat in the dryest spot he could find.

"But how did you come to get down here?" he asked curiously. "We thought you

were dead for sure when we lost you at the waterfall."

Gonff puffed his chest out indignantly. "Me, dead! Not likely. When I went

over the falls I must have been washed right underneath the mountain by the

currents. Next thing I knew, I woke up with the snake and the lizard standing

over me. Foul reptiles, they'd bound me tail and paw. I was taken up in front

of old Greenfrog, or whatever they call him. Huh, the filthy old swamphopper,

he'd been listening to the snake and the lizard, and wanted to know where I'd

hidden you three. Of course I told him to go and roast his fat green behind.

That was when he lost his temper and had me chucked in here with old

Snakefish."

"What's this Snakefish thing supposed to be?" Martin interrupted.

"Be? He's not supposed to be anything, matey. Snakefish is a giant eel. Big,

you never saw the like. He's like a wriggling tree trunk. Here, watch this."

Gonff prised a rock loose from the clay. Leaning out, he hurled it at what

looked like a smooth boulder sticking out of the water. In the dim light, the

brown muddy mess churned; boiling, as thick coils looped and weaved; thrashing

about with untold might.

Gonff shuddered. "That rascal nearly had me. I was saved by the vine hanging

from this cave. Good job I'm a prince of climbers. I still keep checking the

tip of my tail to make sure it's there—that's how close it was. Still, he's

not a bad old sort, providing he keeps his distance. Oh yes, we've even had a

conversation, Snakefish and me. He was the champion toadscoffer in mis part of

the country, until they laid a trap for him and he fell in here. Poor old

Snakefish can't get out now. Still, they keep him happy enough by slinging the

odd enemy in here—the occasional fish, maybe a dead bird, passing travelers

too, of course. Old Snakefish wallops the lot down, doesn't bother him."

Gonff leaned out, calling to the eel, "I said, it doesn't bother you, does it,

big matey?"

216

The surface of the dim water parted with a whooshing upheaval and the head of

Snakefish appeared. It was something out of a nightmare: thick, wide,

silver-black, and the color of yellow ivory beneath. A massive slablike head

hissed and swayed, revealing countless teeth, pure white and needlelike. Two

savage jet eyes watched them with unblinking intensity. Coils of flexible

steely muscle rippled and undulated with a life of their own.

Snakefish spoke.

. "One day I will find my way out of here, then I will taste the toadflesh

again."

Dinny saluted with his digging claw. "Let's "ope 'ee do, zurr. You'm scoff a

few for uz. 'Spect you'm passen fond of 'ee toaden."

Snakefish clouded his eyes dreamily. "Aaaaahhhh meeeee. There's nothing so

tasty as a brace of plump toads. Unless it's two brace.''

Log-a-Log shifted his paws nervously. * 'Er, right first time, sir. Look at

us, all string and fur. Ugh! Why don't you slip out for a toad supper?"

Snakefish reared up, pushing his coils against the smooth walls of Screamhole.

There was no purchase for the great eel. He slid back into the water.

"See, I have given up trying," he said sadly. "Each attempt only makes these

walls more smooth and slippery. Strength alone is useless down here."

Martin had the glimmer of an idea forming in his mind. He decided to risk

broaching the matter.

"Listen, Snakefish, I have a proposition to put to you. Suppose we helped you

out of here, would you leave us to go our way in peace without harming us?"

The great head submerged momentarily, emerging again beneath the hole. Martin

felt that if Snakefish really tried he could reach them. The eel slid back a

little to reassure them.

"If you could free me, I would leave you to go at liberty where you will," the

eel promised. "I would rather eat toad than mouse. Besides, I need to take my

revenge on the tribe of Marshgreen. But you had better decide quickly; before

the passing of another day I will need to eat. Do you understand me?"

The warrior mouse replied for them all.

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"We understand perfectly, Snakefish. Now, will you leave us alone while we

formulate a plan. I'll give you a call the moment we are ready."

The sinister giant slid noiselessly back into the murky waters.

Gonff giggled nervously, "Right, mateys. Thinking caps on, or it's mouse,

shrew and mole pie for dinner tomorrow."

Kotir was deserted. The entire garrison had been .mobilized to pursue the

woodlanders.

Abbess Germaine and Foremole stood at the window of Tsarmina's high chamber,

looking out over the forest.

They had discovered little. Kotir was as grim and mean as any self-respecting

woodlander could imagine it—damp and oppressive, riddled with dank crumbling

rooms and passages where feeble torches guttered fitfully against fungus and

moss-clad masonry. As to supplies, it was useful to know that they were at a

low ebb in the fortress.

Foremole tugged his snout reflectively. "Hurr, marm. Baint even wurth

a-carryen off they mangeful vittles."

Moles and mice had searched the stronghold thoroughly; it was a empty carrion

nest.

Columbine wandered through the deserted armory with Old Dinny. All the weapons

had been taken off by the soldiers of Tsarmina.

The Loamhedge mouse curled her lip in disgust. "Oh, what's the point of

wandering around a filthy evil jumble like this?"

The venerable grandsire of Young Dinny was too busy carrying out his own

research to answer. He sniffed the floor between paving cracks, tapped upon

walls, dug his claws into rotten beams, all the while muttering to himself,

"Burr, oi'm getten a feelen in moi diggen claws 'bout this yurr fort'ica-tion.

Oi'm bound to 'ave a sniff round yon cells."

Columbine went up to join the Abbess in Tsarmina's apartments. She could not

help noticing the vast difference between the luxurious trappings of the