The young squirrel had scuttled off up a nearby elm.
Skipper winked at the hare. “I told ye he was a good climber. Let’s hope he brings yore sling back, Mister Fixa.”
Samolus heaved a sigh. “Aye, and himself with it!”
21
Veeku, leader of the carrion crows, perched near the rim of the boiling lake in the sulphurous atmosphere of the large cavern. He preferred it there of late; every bird or reptile in the domain beneath the tree-clad hill did also. Everybeast was avoiding Korvus Skurr. The Tyrant Lord of the Doomwytes held them all in disfavour. He remained in the darker, cooler rear cavern, brooding by the cold, bottomless pond, with only the huge, loathsome Welzz for company.
It was a futile exercise. The giant fish would not communicate with Korvus, no matter how much he fed it with live frogs, toads, newts and lizards. The longer Korvus Skurr stayed in isolation, dwelling on the disloyalty of his followers, the more dangerous he became.
His pact with Baliss was now common knowledge to all. He knew he had made a grave mistake by hiring the legendary slayer, but Korvus could not allow himself to lose face by admitting it. Accordingly, the situation got worse. Now no creature dared approach him, fearing his towering rages, and sudden fits of violence. Even his smoothsnake, Sicariss, had taken refuge in the noxious fumes of the main cavern. His once-faithful Wytes joined the crows, magpies and choughs, who mostly camped outside by the stream now.
It was close to evening when several crows, who had been out in the woodlands scavenging, came to perch in the downy birch outside.
Veeku was called from the bubbling lake—the crows had something to report. Winging out into the open, he perched on the topmost boughs of the birch, looking down on his minions. Veeku closed his eyes, waiting until one of the birds began.
“Kraaaak! My brothers and I have seen!”
The leader’s eyes flashed open, transfixing the speaker with a sharp, inquisitive stare. “Kiiirrrraaaah! So, ye have seen?” It was the carrion manner of giving an underling permission to carry on; the crow launched right into his report.
“Kark! We saw the mighty poisonteeth Baliss. In the woodlands, south and west of here. Yarraaa! He is acting strangely, battering himself against trees and rocks, tearing up the earth, writhing and hissing. We think he has taken an injury.”
Veeku switched his attention to another of the carrion for confirmation, snapping at him, “Grrakk! An injury, how did you know this?”
The second crow shuffled along the branch, spreading both wings expressively. “Korra! The head of Baliss is grown bigger, swollen, with many scars and sores upon it. By the way he hurls his body about, he looks to be driven mad!”
Veeku closed his eyes again, giving the matter much thought. When he had arrived at a decision, he clacked his beak at the two crows who had reported. “Korvus Skurr must hear of this. Yakkar! Follow me, you will tell him what you have seen!”
It was a frightening interview. Korvus menaced the three crows, pressing them for every scrap of information, hovering over them with his lethal beak ready to strike at eye or throat. They told him everything, the demeanour of Baliss, the extent of his wounds and the location where they had seen him. Korvus stood silent awhile, watching the shivering carrion, as his murderous, shining eyes bored into them. Then he spoke.
“Harrah! Leave me now. Veeku, tell my Wytes I would speak with them. Say it is my command that Sicariss attends me also!”
The tyrant raven was a clever schemer, he began planning. This news could restore his prestige, renew his power as ruler of the subterranean realm.
Sicariss coiled beneath a heap of reeking bones, which were piled against the slime-coated wall of the main cave. She had been listening at the entrance to the second cave, hearing all that went on. Sicariss did not trust the raven anymore, so she stayed hidden. Let Korvus Skurr do his own thinking from now on, see how far that got him, without the wisdom and counsel of his former oracle!
Out in the tranquil evening depths of Mossflower woodlands, the great adder Baliss lay on the bank of a shaded stream. The agony of his wounds had subsided to a mercifully bearable level. This had been achieved by immersing his head in the cold, clear streamwater. Gradually the flow cooled his hot, sightless eyes, seeping through his mouth, around the forked tongue and deadly fangs. Like most reptiles, the snake could hold its breath for long periods.
Baliss remained with his entire head submerged until a pleasant numbness engulfed him, relieving temporarily the unbearable pains. He repeated the operation several times, prolonging each period under water. At one point, Baliss was letting the water run through his mouth, lying there, with his jaws loose, feeling the current soothing his forked tongue, when he felt a tickle. It was a small lamprey, which had drifted in, and was attempting to attach its suckerlike mouth to the inside of Baliss’s jaw. The serpent’s fangs closed upon the unfortunate fish, he drew it out onto the bank, and devoured it, slowly, with great relish.
Uncoiling languidly, the huge reptile stretched on the mossy bank, which was still warm from the day’s sunlight. To look at Baliss, anybeast would have thought he was either dead, stunned or merely sleeping. That would have been a serious mistake.
Korvus Skurr had sent his remaining few Wytes out to seek Baliss. They were to watch the snake, and report back on his movements. If at all possible, Korvus wanted the serpent dead. He intimated this to his ravens, promising any-bird who achieved this a mighty position, joint rule of the caverns and command over all who dwelt within them.
Soft night fell over the woodlands, with faint, far-off birdsong, echoing around the gently rippling stream. Four flickering lights illuminated the shade twixt moonshadows, as the Wytes winged low through the trees. They reached the spot where Baliss had last been sighted, and spread out to search the immediate area.
One Wyte, Frang, who normally led the others, perched in the low fork of an alder, waiting for the return of the others. He had not long to wait before the Wyte called Vugri returned. Keeping his cawing down to a minimum, Vugri pointed one luminous-tipped wing to where he had been. He leant close to Frang. “Raaak! I have seen the great serpent!”
Frang nodded for him to continue; Vugri hopped from one talon to the other, reporting eagerly. “Wakaaah! Yonder is a stream, Baliss is there. He no longer strikes his head against trees, or throws himself about as we were told. I saw him just a moment ago, I think maybe he is dead!”
Frang clacked his beak softly. “Yirkk! Show me.” The sound he had made was one of disbelief. However, he still wanted to see for himself.
Both Wytes landed silently in the boughs of a wych elm. Vugri indicated his find with a nod. Down below them, and close by, Baliss lay in a patch of moonlight, the whole of his length unfolded, and limp.
Frang whispered, “Yaaark, ye could be right, the monster looks dead. Mayhaps the madness killed him, let us see.” With his stout, heavy beak he snapped off a twig. One powerful twist sent it spinning down at the snake. Frang’s aim was good, it struck the reptile’s head. Both birds were ready to fly for their lives, but the inert body did not even twitch a single scale. Frang clacked his beak in amazement, whispering, “Hayaaah, the great Baliss has gone to Hellgates!”
Vugri swelled his chest, emitting a loud, harsh cry. “Garraaakaaarr! What are ye whispering for, he is as dead as an old frog from the boiling lake!” He swooped down, cawing triumphantly. “Yiiihaaak! It was I who found him! I will tear out the poison teeth and take them back to Korvus Skurr, he will reward me well!”
Frang, the senior of the two Wytes, hurried after him. “Garrah! We will share the honours, brother!”
Vugri landed a hairsbeadth from the adder’s lolling mouth. He struck at the venomous fangs.
But Baliss struck quicker.
Frang managed to swoop out of the dive he was making, wings fluttering wildly. “Kaaaarrrrraaaaagh!”
He winged madly off into the woodland night, as if pursued by golden eagles. The other two Wytes, hearing his
terrified caws, left off their search and sped after him. All three remaining ravens headed for the caverns beneath the wooded hill. They were flying scared, stopping for nothing.
Veeku was almost toppled from his perch in the birch tree as the Wytes zoomed past him, crossed the stream and fled into the cave entrance. Torn leaves and strands of creepers fell into the water behind them. The carrion crow leader followed them at a more sedate pace.
In the waft of sulphurous air made by beating wings, Sicariss emerged from her hiding place, amidst the welter of bleached bones. Turning to the yellowed skull of a long-dead rat, she addressed it. “Ssssuch a hurry the Wytesss are in, and Veeku, too. To lissssten isss to gain knowledge, that isss the key to power, yessss!”
As the smoothsnake made her way to an eavesdropping session in the rear cavern, it seemed like the rat skull winked at her in agreement. However, it was only a cockroach passing through its eye socket.
Korvus Skurr listened to the ravens’ reports, without comment. Veeku perched a safe distance away—it did not pay to be standing near the tyrant raven when he was hearing bad tidings. Unusually, Korvus showed no signs of violence or ungovernable wrath after he had heard the news. Watching the dark bulk of the Welzz, circling below in the deep pool, he spoke wearily.
“Haaaraaah! Even my Wytes have failed me this night. But who could expect the mighty Baliss to lie down and die, like any ordinary reptile?”
Frang ventured to agree, “Kahaar, aye, who, Lord?”
Korvus eyed him sourly, his voice heavy with scorn. “Yaaarr! You, for one. Get out of my sight, go on, all three of you!”
Frang and the remaining two Wytes obeyed promptly, relieved they had gotten off so lightly. Korvus changed his manner as he addressed Veeku.
“Waaark! My loyal commander of carrion crows, is it not a sad thing to be served by witless fools?” Veeku merely nodded, keeping his distance as the raven continued in a tired but affable tone. “Kraah! If I want anything done I must rely on you, Veeku, my strong right wing. Take the best of your birds on this mission, find Baliss, scout the monster out and observe him. Do not venture into danger, stay clear of the serpent. Send reports back to me on his movements. Will you do this for Korvus Skurr, old friend?”
Veeku was not fooled for a moment, but he spread both wings, bowing his head low. “Harrak, Mighty One, I will go myself to do thy bidding!”
Even the woodland songbirds did not serenade dawn’s light within sound of the big, blind snake. Baliss had not rested or slept that night—the pains in his head were starting once more. When he found another stream he would repeat the treatment of immersing his head in cold running water. It was the only thing which gave him temporary relief. Meanwhile, he was obsessed with one goal, revenge upon his enemy. Korvus Skurr was the cause of all his miseries, therefore, he must pay the price. The revenge of the giant adder was a fearsome thing to behold.
Vugri knew this only too well, though the biggest shock to the Raven Wyte was that he was still alive. A living captive of the most deadly creature in all Mossflower. Baliss had merely stunned him when he struck. The snake delivered not a bite, but a driving snoutbutt. When Vugri came to his senses, he made a painful discovery: one of his wings was broken, hanging uselessly at his side. He lay in frozen horror, staring into the sightless eyes of his captor.
Baliss reared, striking like lightning. The Raven Wyte managed a croaking gasp as he gaped into the open mouth hovering over him. Beads of venom pulsed into the fanged glands, and a forked tongue touched Vugri’s eyeball, almost caressingly. He smelled the sickly sweet snake odour of death surrounding his head, and heard the sibilant voice.
“Life issss sssweet, you wisssh to live?”
Vugri heard himself give a breathless sob.
“Y…y…yes.” He ignored the twinging spasms from his broken wing, feeling the snake butting his back with a blunt snout, urging him to rise.
Baliss issued him instructions. “You will obey me.”
With his heart beating almost in his throat, Vugri replied, “Yes, I will obey you!”
The snout of Baliss began driving him forward. “You will not try to esssscape, you will take me to Korvussss Sssskurr. Repeat that, to ssshow me you undersssstand the wordsss of Balissssss.”
Vugri complied, though it took him some time to stammer out the instructions.
Sicariss concealed herself by the entrance to the inner cavern. She listened carefully, whilst Veeku repeated what he had heard and seen. Korvus Skurr strode jerkily back and forth, his chest plumage palpitating with the rapid beats of his heart. He turned suddenly.
“Arraaah! Where is the serpent now, tell me!”
Veeku blinked at the vehemence in his voice. “I flew back, Lord, to see he did not kill Vugri. He is forcing him to be his guide. They are not too far, but who could say how long he will take, Lord. He is making slow progress with Vugri as a broken-winged guide. Your Wyte is hobbling, but the serpent is with him all the way. What more can I tell you, O Mighty One? Baliss is coming!”
The watcher on the hillside above the cave entrance was still there. Ever vigilant, the dark beast saw all the comings and goings below. Besides any problems he had with reluctant carrion birds, a disaffected Sicariss and the threat of the approaching Baliss, the Chief Doomwyte remained unaware of the sable-furred mystery creature, hovering over him like a dark nemesis.
22
To a certain degree, Bisky and Dubble were allowed a limited freedom. No longer bound or gagged, they wandered around the Gonfelin cavern. The mousemaid Spingo accompanied them, proudly pointing out various facets of her home. Bisky was astounded to learn that the long, low dwelling was actually situated beneath a lake. Spingo pointed to the many timber columns twixt floor and ceiling, explaining in her curious accent, “I don’t know who put these up. Ma always says it makes the ould place feel safer.”
Dubble eyed the dwelling admiringly. “I tell ye, miss, you Gonfelins must be skilful beasts t’build a place like this!”
Spingo chuckled. “Nah, nobeast could’ve built this cave. The story is that they stumbled on it accidentally, when they was banished from Redwall. Talk about lucky, eh? There’s only us Gonfelins wot knows about this cave. Da sez it’s the best kept secret in Mossflower, we’re safe from anythin’ ’ere.”
Bisky could not take his eyes off the mousemaid, she was so painfully pretty. He smiled at her. “Have you ever visited Redwall Abbey?”
Spingo shook her head ruefully. “No. But long, long ago only the best thieves’n’warriors was ever allowed t’go to Redwall. Hah, they snuck in an’ stole some great stuff. But my da’s ole granda put a stop to it, said it was too dangerous, an’ we should live our own lives. Ferget that Abbey, an’ leave the Redwallers to theirselves. So, that’s wot Gonfelins do.”
Bisky sensed the regret in her voice, so he asked, “Would you like to go there someday, Spingo? I could show you around, you’d probably love it.”
She was about to reply, when a clamour broke out up near the cave entrance. Spingo grabbed her new friend’s paws. “Wot’s all that kerfuffle about? C’mon, we’d better go an’ take a look!”
Pikehead Nokko was trying to gain order from a crowd of Gonfelin mice, who were leaping about, yelling and brandishing their sandbags. Nokko walloped a few paws and backs, roaring at them, “Will youse shutyer gobs an’ let Duggo make ’is report? Now shurrup, or I’ll lay yez all out!” Most of the noise died down; Nokko pointed the sandbag at his scout and intelligence gatherer. “Now tell us wot yer saw, me ould son.”
Duggo pranced about a lot, gesticulating as he delivered his summary in a speedy jumble. “Saw? I’ll tell yer wot I saw, Da. It’s those Painty Ones agin, in the clearin’ not far from the five-top oak. The blinkin’ blaggids, they’re ambushin’ some sherrews, jus’ like that’n there!” He pointed to Dubble before hurrying on. “Aye, a whole gang o’ sherrews, an’ some others.”
Nokko glared fiercely at him. “Wot others, son?”
The scout
continued, “Well, Da, there’s a big riverdog, a long-eared rabbet, a young treejumper an’ a couple o’ mouses, jus’ like us an’ ’im, wot ye catchered.”
Bisky interrupted, “They sound like my friends, are they dead or wounded, tell me!”
Duggo shrugged rapidly, several times. “I dunno, never got close enough t’see, but there’s enough Painty Ones t’make scragmeat o’ yore pals! Loads o’ the likkle rats, in the trees all round the clearin’, they’ve got poison dart blowers, too!”
Bisky grabbed Nokko’s paw. “My friends are in danger, and those shrews are most likely Dubble’s Guosim tribe, you’ve got to let us go and help them!”
Nokko wrenched himself from the young mouse’s grip. “Now ’old ’ard there, bucko me laddo, yew ain’t goin’ anywhere….” He paused. “Oh no, not wirrout us! Arm yerselves fer war an’ swipin’s, Gonfelins! There’s blood t’be shed an’ loot t’be taken!”
Gobbo stared at his father oddly. “But, Da, we ain’t the friends o’ sherrews an’ Redwallers. Wot’s the point of gettin’ injured or slayed fer them?”
Nokko seized his objectionable son, buffeting his ears soundly as he drummed home the lesson. “Lissen, mouth almighty, Painty Ones are our mortal foes, so anybeast who’s an enemy o’ them is a friend o’ mine, see!”
Dubble could not help voicing his fears. “But I can’t see ye defeatin’ ’em with sandbags, sir.”
Nokko chortled. “Hoho, we only uses sambags amongst ourselves. Gonfelins goes to war wid the real gear. Bring out the bows’n’lances, an’ make sure yer carryin’ stranglin’ nooses!”
Bisky was in the vanguard along with Dubble and Nokko. Running at his side was Spingo, who, despite her da’s orders, insisted on coming. Bisky was armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows, though he did not know whether he would be any good with them, never having been familiar with archery. As they charged through the woodlands, Bisky noted that even Spingo, besides toting a lance, was armed with a strangling noose. This was the other weapon, beside sandbags, which Gonfelins carried as a matter of course. He nodded at the tough, greased vine, with its bone toggles, which was looped about her waist. “Can you use that thing, Spingo?”