Brian Jacques - Mossflower

I saw Goody coming through the woods—I think it's beechnut crumble and

elderberry fritters for lunch."

"Hurray, my favorite!" Ferdy said delightedly.

"Don't forget to wash those paws in the river before you eat." Bella reminded

them.

"But, Miz Bella, all us workbeasts get mucky paws." Coggs protested. "Shows

weVe been working hard."

"Oh, and what about littlebeasts? They get mucky paws

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just playing. You scrub 'em with some bank sand, young Coggs."

The woodlanders stood by after lunch until Old Dinny was brought to the spot

where the tunnels would begin. Three young champion digging moles were

there—Billum, Soilflyer and Urthclaw. They stood respectfully to one side as

Fore-mole escorted Old Dinny forward. Billum presented the ancient one with a

beakerful of October ale. He quaffed most of it in one gulp. Emptying the rest

on the ground where the work was to take place, Old Dinny recited,

Moles a-tunnellen, deep an' far. Moles a diggen, urr that we are.

Foremole nodded approvingly. Old Dinny was quite a solemn mole versifier. He

raised a gnarled claw to the three champions. They went to it with a will amid

loud cheers. Other teams would follow up, widening and shoring in their wake.

The great tunneling of Mossflower had begun!

Hidden by a screen of leaves in a high elm, a woodpigeon was witness to a very

strange scene in the woods south of Kotir. Tsarmina, armed with a bow and

arrows, was talking to the surrounding foliage.

"I know you're there, brother. Oh, it's no use hiding. The Queen of the

Thousand Eyes will find you, you can be sure."

The woodpigeon remained perfectly still. No point in offering a handy target

to a wildcat with bow and arrows, he decided, even if she were looking for

someone else.

"Come on out, Gingivere. Show yourself. This is between me and you."

Silence greeted the challenge. Tsarmina smiled slyly.

"Think you're clever, don't you? Haha, not half as clever as your sister. I

know your little game. I'll find you!"

The wildcat Queen continued padding through the still forest, sometimes hiding

behind a tree, often doubling back on her own tracks, always on the alert.

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Brogg and Ratflank were sitting in the larder. As Captains, they decided it

was their prerogative to sample some of the remaining rations. The two

officers stuffed bread and guzzled cider from a half-empty cask.

There was a knock at the door. Hastily, they swallowed and wiped their

whiskers. Brogg stamped about kicking sacks and checking casks as he called

out, "Yes? Who is it?"

"It's Squint the stoat, Cap'n," a thin reedy voice piped back at him.

The pair relaxed.

"Come in, Squint. What d'you want?" Brogg asked.

The stoat entered. He stood to attention before his superiors. "I followed Her

Majesty, just like you told me to, Cap'n Brogg."

"Well, where did she go?"

"South into Mossfiower. She took a bow and arrows with her. I kept well out of

sight and watched. Funny though, she kept ducking here and bobbing there,

hiding behind trees and so on."

"What for?"

"Her brother—you know, Gingivere. She kept calling out his name. Went on like

that for ages. I thought I'd better come back here and report to you."

Ratflank wiped a crumb from his paw. "You did well Squint," he began.

Brogg silenced him. "You keep quiet. I'm giving the orders around here."

He turned on the unfortunate stoat. "You thought you'd better come back and

report, eh? Who told you that you had permission to think? D'you realize that

you've left your Queen out there alone in the forest, at the mercy of any

roving band of woodlanders?''

"But Cap'n, you told me to—"

"Silence! Speak when you're spoken to, stoat. Now you get back out there on

the double, me bucko, and don't come back until Milady does, and that's an

order!"

Squint stood bewildered until Ratflank joined in the chastisement.

"You heard Captain Brogg. On the double now. One-two, one-two, one-two. Step

lively, Squint!"

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The stoat double-marched backward out of the larder. Brogg and Ratflank fell

back upon the sacks, laughing.

"Hohohoho, proper thick'ead, that one. Hey, it's not too bad this officer

lark, Brogg."

"I'll say it isn't," Brogg agreed. "Keep the troops on their mettle while I

inspect the larder, eh?"

"Righto, Captain Brogg. I'll go up and turn them all out for an arms

inspection and chuck a few in the guardhouse for having dirty spears. You keep

checking round here."

"Heeheehee. That's it, Captain Ratflank. You make 'em jump."

When his companion had gone, Brogg rooted about under some sacks. He came up

with a stone jar half-full of strawberry jam. Upending it on his snout, he

smacked the bottom with his paw to free the sticky sweet. Some of it actually

went down his mouth; the rest stuck to his nose and whiskers, and he gave a

jammy giggle.

"Heehee, hmmmm, mmmmm. Too good for the troops, this stuff!"

Squint dashed heedlessly through the woods, pushing aside bushes, cracking

twigs and branches as he followed the trail.

Tsarmina was not aware that Brogg had ordered her to be followed. Stealthily

she slipped behind an outcrop of furze, fitting the arrow to the bow as she

followed her pursuer's noisy progress.

"Come to me, Gingivere," Tsarmina crooned softly under her breath. "Run

quickly! Your sister awaits you."

Squint ploughed headlong past the furze bush. The string twanged mercilessly.

He lay facedown with the arrow protruding from the back of his neck. Tsarmina

stood over the fallen stoat, her mad eyes seeing only what they wanted to.

"There's an end to it, brother. You'll never trick me again!"

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The gourds of water had been lashed to both ends of a stave; any other food

that could be packed was carried along. The four travelers had a new spring to

their step, now they were free from hunger and the mountain was much nearer.

Since early morning they had been on the move, glad to be away from the hut

and the memory of its dead occupant. The going was easier and lighter; the

weather stayed fine. Late afternoon found them seated by a shallow rock pool.

Log-a-Log munched a biscuit, keeping a weather eye on a crab lodged beneath a

rock.

"I don't like those things. You never knew when one's going to do a quick

scuttle at you."

Gonff wiggled his paws in the sun-warmed shallows. "Oh, I don't know. I quite

fancy another dancing lesson, if our friend there is in the mood."

They laughed at the thought of their last encounter with a crab.

Martin glanced up at Salamandastron. "Look, you can just see the light

faintly. Whatever it is must burn continuously. D'you suppose it is a fire

lizard, Din?"

"Hurr oi doant be a-knowen of such creat'res. Burr, foir dargons, indeed. Wot

moi owd granfer'd say of 'em oi doant know.' *

"Nor do I, but one thing I do know," Log-a-Log said,

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nodding toward the mountain. "That place is all that stands between sea rats

and the land. They fear it and hate it."

Gonff dried his paws. "Then why don't they go around ft?"

"Because it's there, I suppose." Log-a-Log shrugged. "It stands as a

challenge. The ship I was on avoided it like the plague. But not Cap'n

Ripfang, master of the vessel Blood-wake; he's the most black-hearted sea rat

of 'em all. Rip-fang's had many battles around Salamandastron. They say he

swore a mighty oath never to rest until he rules that mountain."