Brian Jacques - Mossflower

the segment of bait. There was a scrabbling and clattering noise at the

poolside, and a huge carapace emerged.

Log-a-Log slashed the line with his knife, leaving the baby crab to enjoy the

bait.

The water splashed away, displaced by a considerable bulk. Four blackish-gray

armored legs clawed their way over the edge of the rock.

It was a fully grown crab!

The monster stood in front of them, its eyes roving hither and thither on long

stalks. Two large plates opened, revealing a downward-slanting mouth that shed

water and gaped open at them. But it was the creature's claws that caused the

most concern. Large powerful pincers, held high, snapping open and shut with a

noise like steel hitting stone, they were studded with horny nodules that

resembled teeth.

"Back off. Don't try to fight it, you'll lose," Log-a-Log said, not taking his

eyes from the angry crab. "Keep backing off until we're on the sand. Then

we'll really have to run for it. Crabs can scuttle sideways very fast."

They retreated carefully. The big crab blew a bubble from its mouth, lowered

its claws, snapped them viciously at the intruders and charged like lightning.

Now that Cludd was gone, Tsarmina needed a new Captain of the Guard, so she

promoted Brogg the weasel.

At first Brogg enjoyed his position of power. But of late he was sorry he had

ever donned the cloak of Captaincy, particularly when he was called up to be

interviewed by the Queen in her chambers.

"Brogg, I made you Captain. You must find Gingivere. He has kidnapped Ashleg."

"Yes, Majesty."

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"Find yourself another Captain. That stoat, Ratffank—he'll do," she suggested.

"I want you to go through the entire army one by one."

"Go through the army, Milady?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes, jellybrains. You and Ratflank take them one by one to the ceils."

"Yes, Milady."

"Will you stop interrupting me and listen! All anyone ever says around here is

'yes, Milady* or 'no, Milady.' "

"Yes, Milady."

"Shut up!" Tsannina shouted irritably. "Get them one by one in a cell, pull

their whiskers, then check their fur. Is their tail their own tail?"

"Er, is it, Milady?"

"That's what I want you to find out, nitwit."

"Oh yes. But why, Milady?"

Tsarmina paced the room, her voice rising to a cracked crescendo. "Because one

of them is Gingivere in disguise, you clod. He's here, in my fortress,

plotting against me. Get out and find him!"

Later Brogg sat at a barrack room table, joined by Ratflank

and several other cronies. They were reduced to eating hard

bread and woodland plants. Brogg sipped from a flagon. "Huh, at least there's

still a drop of cider left. I tell you,

mates, the Queen has definitely taken a funny turn."

"Oh, I don't know," Ratflank smirked. "She's still got

the sense to recognize a good stoat when she sees one. Look

at me, I'm a Captain now." One of the ferrets spat out a moldy crust. "Is that

some kind of ceremony you carried out, Brogg?"

he asked.

"What ceremony, what are you talking about, Dogfur?" "Well, the way you took

Ratflank down to the cells and

twitched his whiskers, then you pinched his fur and twitched

his tail before you gave him the Captain's cloak."

"Oh no. Matter of fact, youVe all got to have it done." "What, you mean we're

all going to be made Captains?" "Caw, I wish old Lord Greeneyes was here now,

mates,"

Brogg sighed gloomily as he cupped his head in his paws.

**Or even the other one, Gingivere."

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# * *

Warm sunrays cascading through the leaves mingled in harmony with the peace of

Mossflower Woods. Somewhere a cuckoo was calling, and young ferns curled their

tendril tops toward blossom on the bramble.

Gingivere had traveled east since early morning, never once turning his head

to look back toward Brockhall. He sat with his back to a sycamore and opened

the satchel of food given him by the woodlanders. The very sight of a homely

oatcake brought a lump to his throat at the thought of the good fnends he had

left behind, especially of little Ferdy and Coggs.

With unshed tears bright in his eyes, Gingivere wrapped the food up. He

continued walking east through the peaceful flowering forest.

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Martin leaped to the fore as the crab came charging forward. "Hurry, get down

to the sands," he shouted urgently. "I'll try to hold this thing off. Go on,

get going!"

The three travelers would not run and desert their friend. They backed away

slowly to the edge of the rocks, while Martin, facing the crab as a rearguard,

followed them.

The crab would make a scurrying attack then back off, suddenly changing tack

to shuffle in sideways. Not having time to use his sling, Martin hurled

several well-placed stones at the maddened creature. They made a hollow

clunking noise as they bounced off the tough crabshell. Each time it was hit,

the crab would halt, pulling its eyes in on their long stalks. Holding one

claw high and the other out level toward them, it advanced—for all the world

like a fencer minus his sword. The huge claws opened and shut, clacking

viciously.

From the top of the rocky outcrop where they stood to the sand below was a

forbiddingly long drop. Log-a-Log teetered on the brink, shutting his eyes

tight at the dizzy height. Without a second thought, GonfF grabbed the shrew's

scrubby coat with one paw, held tight to Dinny's digging claw with the other,

and jumped.

As Dinny felt himself being pulled from the smooth rock surface, he seized

Martin's tail with his free digging claw.

The crab dashed forward, only to find its pincers nipping nothing. Clutching

paw to fur to claw to tail, the travelers

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sailed out into midair and plummeted downward, narrowly missing the jutting

rocks that projected from the main mass.

Bump!

They landed flat upon the beach sand with a dull thud that knocked the breath

from their bodies.

Martin was first to recover. He sat up, rubbing his back, feeling as if his

tail had been dragged out by the roots. Dinny lay facedown. He lifted his

head, snorted sand, and looked up at the rock face.

"Hoo arr. Lookout, 'ee commen doawn!" he warned.

Sure enough, the crab was scrambling and scuttling sideways down the rocks

toward them with surprising agility.

Ignoring his injuries, Martin ran to face the armored menace as his friends

recovered from the fall. Grabbing a stave, he hit out strongly at the

creature.

With a loud clack, the crustacean caught the flailing stave between both its

claws, immediately locking tight onto it, wrenching the weapon from the

warrior's grasp.

Martin felt totally helpless as he readied himself for the crab's next move.

Whirling and prancing about on the sand with its slitlike mouth gaping and

frothing, the crab clutched madly at the stave. Martin could only stare in

amazement at the dancing monster as it jigged about, holding the stave high in

its murderous claws.

Log-a-Log tugged at the warrior's paw. "Come on, Martin. Let's get going while

we can. That crab doesn't seem to want to let go of the stave!'*

"Ha!" Gonff snorted. "It's not a case of wanting. It hasn't got the sense to

release the stave. Can't you see?"

As if to prove his point, the little mousethief joined the crab and actually

began dancing along with it. Round and round they went, Gonff comically

following his strange partner's every twist and turn. Furiously the crab