Bisky swung a loaded sling, Dubble waved his rapier and Nokko held the shaft on his bowstring at the ready. Behind them, the beasts of Gonfelin and Guosim came, everyone armed to the teeth, blood racing, pulses pounding.
They poured out into the big cavern, straight into a mass of carrion birds and reptiles coming the opposite way. As both sides clashed, Bosie pointed through the green fog, calling to Dubble, Bisky and Nokko, “Over yonder, d’ye see? We’ve got tae help them!”
Bisky felt his stomach churn as he viewed the sight which had driven the hare on with such urgency.
Two ropes dangled from the cavern roof, which was so high that the length of the ropes only reached halfway to the floor. Hanging from the ropes were Soilclaw, Burgy and Frubb, holding on to the limp form of Spingo. On the floor, atop a soil heap, lay the still forms of Rooter, Grabul, Ruttur and Friar Skurpul. Unable to hold on to the ropes, they had fallen through the hole in the cave ceiling.
Nokko cast a quick glance upward, his face tight with fear. “Lookit, that big stone’s stuck up there, but it’s gonna come down any moment now!”
Sure enough, the huge, flat sandstone slab was lying on its side, held in the hole by the rubble, either side of it. But the loose earth was raining down, still widening the hole.
Nokko clapped a paw to his brow. “They’re stuck up there, wot are we gonna do?”
Dubble shook his head despairingly. “Nothin’ much we can do, mates, they’re too high up t’be reached, an’ that big stone’s about to drop. Fur’n’blood, wot a terrible mess.”
Behind them, a war to the death was raging, as birds and reptiles tried to break out through the ranks of Guosim and Gonfelins. Bisky faced the problem in front of them, blotting out the sounds of combat from his mind. He concentrated on saving those hanging upon the high ropes.
Suddenly he was acting. Even as the plan formed in his mind, he ran to the hill of rubble, which had fallen from the hole above. “Help me, mates, move these poor moles off this pile of earth, quickly now!”
All four moles were obviously dead. Bosie lifted Friar Skurpul gently, placing him to one side. “Och, the guid old beast, ’tis a cryin’ shame!”
Even though there was a huge lump in Bisky’s throat, he managed to speak firmly. “Time to cry later, Bosie, leave him now and start shoring this pile up. Move!”
Under Bisky’s direction, they pushed the pile into one mass, gathering loose material from around it. Flattening the top off slightly, the young mouse looked upward, gauging the distance.
Dubble looked up aghast. “Yore not thinkin’ of tellin’ ’em to drop down onto that, are ye?”
Bisky found himself roaring at the hapless shrew. “Well, what do you think we should do? Leave them hangin’ up there until that big slab falls down on their heads?” He immediately felt sorry that he had spoken like that to his Guosim friend, and apologised. “I’m sorry, mate, but we’ve got to do something quickly, there’s not much time.”
Bosie was keeping one eye on the battle over by the tunnel. “Och, but what d’ye intend doin’?”
Bisky explained, “We’ll pile this hill of soil a bit higher and flatten off the top. They might stand a chance if they drop onto to it one at a time.”
Nokko, who had remained silent so far, peered up at the creatures hanging from the rope. “But four of ’em are already dead from fallin’ that high. Wot chance ’as me daughter an’ those three brave moles got?”
Bisky replied, having worked it all out in his mind, “The four who died fell right from the ceiling, but our friends up there are already halfway down, they don’t have so far to fall. The soil heap should soften the impact, as long as they come down singly.”
Nokko began levelling off the top of the heap. There was a grating noise from high up; the big stone slab was slipping as more soil leaked away from its sides.
Cupping his paws around his mouth, Bisky yelled, “Burgy, Frubb, drop Spingo down to us!”
The two moles were glad to lose their burden. They released the Gonfelin maid. Bisky and Nokko threw themselves flat on the sides of the heap. Spingo plummeted through space, still senseless as her limp body thudded onto the soil, sending up a cloud of dust. Bisky and Nokko carried her aside.
Bosie nodded his approval. “Ah think the wee lassie took no hurt, ’tis a guid plan. Hi there, Frubb, wait’ll Ah smooth this heap again, yore next!”
Moments later, the mole came hurtling through the air, his eyes tight shut as he thumped onto the makeshift cushion. “Hurr, Oi did et, zurrs, Oi did et!”
Burgy came next—he, too, made a safe landing.
Bisky shouted up to Soilclaw, the last of the molecrew, “Come on, mate, let go of that rope!”
Soilclaw clung on tighter—he was far too scared to release his hold. “Ho, woe am Oi, zurrs, Oi’m gurtly afeared o’ heights. Oi’d loike to letten go of ee rope, but Oi can’t, ’tis a turrible long ways daown to ee floor!”
Dubble realised that the only way Soilclaw would release his hold would be through shock. So the young Guosim screeched up as loud as he could, “The big rock’s fallin’ on ye, mate, leggo o’ the rope!”
With a panicked bellow, Soilclaw let go. “Whooouuuurrr!” Shooting through space like a furry cannonball, he landed bottom-first on the heap. He stood up, dusting himself off as if nothing had happened. “Thurr naow, that diddent hurt Oi!”
Nokko lifted his unconscious daughter, draping her across his shoulders. “Got t’get my liddle darlin’ out inter the fresh air an’ wet ’er face with cold streamwater.”
Bosie took over. “Right, we’ll make a path for ye. Bisky, Dubble, get either side o’ him, we’ll fight our way through tae the tunnel. Eulaliaaa Bowlayneeee!”
Turning, they charged straight into the fray.
Reptiles, birds, Guosim and Gonfelins were locked, tooth to claw and beak to paw, in the tunnel mouth, driving one another back and forth in a wild melee. A sharp-billed chough fluttered down, about to stab its beak into Spingo. Bisky lashed out, breaking its skull with his stone-loaded sling. The Laird Bosie McScutta of Bowlaynee forged gallantly ahead, the light of battle in his eyes as he swung the blade of Martin the Warrior like a scythe, mowing a slaughtered lane through the foebeast. Dubble thrust left and right with his rapier, his battlecry mingling with those of his comrades.
“Logalogalogaloooog! Gonfeliiiin! Redwaaaaallll! Give ’em blood’n’vinegar! No quarter, no surrender!”
Bisky fought on in a crimson haze, biting, kicking, swinging his rock-loaded sling. The only thought uppermost in his mind—to get Spingo out, into clean air and safety.
Now they were into the tunnel. Slow worms, grass snakes and smoothsnakes hissed and snapped viciously in their struggle to escape the caves, only to be met by Zaran, the black otter.
She stood where none could pass, her double-bladed sword dealing out death and destruction to the creatures of Korvus Skurr. Any servant of the Doomwyte who ventured in range of her avenging blades was sent screaming to Hellgates with savage fury.
Bisky managed to shout to her above the hubbub, “We’ve got Spingo, she must get out of here, Zaran!”
The otter slashed her way through to Bosie’s side. “Come, friend, get the young one out, then we come back and finish this thing forever!”
The Highland hare laughed recklessly. “Och, yer a lassie after mah own heart. Aye, let’s do that, mah braw bonny!”
Dawn rushed in with a warm breeze, and a sky as blue as speedwell blossoms. The little party broke out of the fetid cavern fumes into a bright summer’s day. Nokko tripped and fell into the stream, dousing both himself and his daughter. Bisky and Dubble waded in to help them out. Spingo, wakened by the sudden shock of cold streamwater, yelled out.
“Whaaaa…. Phlooooey…. I’m bein’ drownded, ’elp!”
Bisky grabbed her paw, pulling her up onto the bank. He was shaking all over, and grinning foolishly.
Nokko spat out a jet of water, scowling. “Worra yew laughin’ at, cheeky g
ob?”
The young Redwaller held a paw to help him out. “It’s a good day t’be alive, isn’t it mate?”
Nokko suddenly realised that Spingo was standing smiling at Bisky, awake and well. He accepted Bisky’s paw and waded to the bank. “Ha ha, ye can say that agin, bucko! Aye aye, where are ye off to, we’ve just got out!”
Bisky and Dubble joined Zaran and Bosie. Now that his warrior blood was roused, the Laird of Bowlaynee was trembling for action. “Stay here an’ care for yore bonny daughter, mah friend, we’ve got a battle tae attend to!”
The Gonfelin Pikehead sat Spingo carefully down on the bankside. “Are ye alright, me darlin’?”
She smiled prettily. “I’m fine, thank ye, Da!”
He pulled a thick driftwood billet from the stream and gave it to her. “There now, that’s me beauty. You rest ’ere an’ break the ’eads of any foebeasts ye sees comin’ out o’ there.” He cocked an ear to the tunnel entrance, scowling. “There goes that Gobbo agin, can’t keep his big trap shut fer a moment. Right, let’s go t’war, mates!”
Yelling blood and thunder, the five warriors charged back into the tunnel. Spingo picked a pink purslane flower, sniffing it daintily as she wielded her club and sat guard over the tunnel entrance.
Korvus Skurr was the Leader of Doomwytes, he had ruled his underworld domain with a stern claw. It had seen many seasons of his tyranny, but now he could see it was all finished. The big raven Doomwyte was many things, but he could never be called a fool. His cunning mind was ever at work, thinking up fresh ideas, devising new plans. The one uppermost in his self-centred mind now was survival—to escape Baliss, and get clear of the caves. His fear of the giant adder knew no bounds, he had seen what it could do. Any creature who could slay the Welzz, that dark monster which haunted the bottomless lake, was worthy of the fear of even the Doomwyte. A bird of his size and ferocity could establish himself anywhere outside, even beyond the bounds of Mossflower. When he saw the invading forces of woodlanders charging into his caverns, he knew a swift change of plans was called for.
Urging his creatures forward to the attack, Korvus Skurr did what he deemed to be the wise move. He sent them at the foebeast, strategically withdrawing himself. Once the struggle was decided, one way or another, it would be the work of a moment to make a flight for freedom and the outside world. But there remained the problem of Baliss, how to avoid the snake, until he could effect his escape.
The raven’s keen eyes searched around, until he found the answer. There! About a third of the way up the cavern walls was a recess, half-disguised by scabrous growths of fungus and lichen. As everybeast from both sides was locked in battle, it was not too difficult to go unnoticed. One lightning swoop took the Doomyte raven straight up to the hiding place.
Unfortunately, he found it already occupied by a jackdaw. Seeing the great Korvus Skurr, the grey-hooded bird moved aside to make room. Korvus settled next to the jackdaw, indicating the struggle below with a wave of one wing.
“Garraaak! Why are you not fighting alongside your companions? Do ye fear those earthcrawlers?” He noticed an ugly swelling on the bird’s face as it turned to him. It had difficulty replying.
“Kurrrh! Lord, I was wounded by a slingstone. My mate was slain by an arrow, she lies down there.”
Korvus stared down at the arena of combat. “Where?”
The jackdaw dipped its beak toward the edge of the boiling pool. “Over there, see?”
Pretending he could not see, Korvus got behind the jackdaw, as if to look over its shoulder. “Harraaah! Where is your mate? I cannot see.”
The jackdaw bent its head, indicating the spot. “Korrah! By those two fallen magpies. See the arrow sticking out, she was a good mate.”
Korvus stuck the jackdaw through the back of its neck with his murderous beak. With a wrench of his strong head, he sent its body plummeting downward in a whirl of black and grey plumage. “Yakkaaah! Go and join your mate, fool, there is space for only one up here!”
He settled down to watch the outcome of the battle, keeping one eye on the entrance to the rear cavern. Sooner or later, Baliss would come out of there. Korvus hoped it would be later, some time after he had made his escape.
Though the woodlanders had the element of surprise on their side, they were outnumbered by reptiles and carrion birds. Urged on by Bosie, Nokko, Bisky and Dubble, they fought fiercely. The main area of combat centred round the entrance to the tunnel. Gonfelin and Guosim archers and slingers kept up constant barrages at the carrion, who swept down on them in dark clouds through the yellow fog of sulphur fumes.
Bosie and several shrews were hard put, slashing with their blades at the horde of reptiles, snakes, toads, frogs and lizards. These were not fighting, merely trying to leave by the tunnel. They pressed the woodlanders in seething masses, threatening to bring them down with overwhelming force.
It was Bosie’s injury that decided the outcome of the struggle. Flailing about with his sword like a madbeast, he let his aching paws drop for one unguarded moment. A big chough swept down and attacked him. The foebird’s curved pointed beak drove a furrow across the hare’s head, piercing his right ear. Bosie roared in pain. The chough latched its talons into his brow, screeching madly as it tried to extricate its beak from his ear.
Nokko leapt on Bosie’s back; grabbing the chough, he slew it with a swift dagger thrust. Bosie was still bellowing as he flung the slain bird from him, then he charged, his eyes clouded red in a berserk rage.
“Eulaliiiaaa! Ye durty auld featherbags! Ah’ll make ye rue the day ye broke yore eggshells! Ah’ll send ye all tae Hellgates an’ potscrapin’s! Face me if ye dare, Ah’m the McScutta, Laird o’ Bowlayneeeeeee! Eulaliiiiaaaaa!”
Such was his fury that the enemy broke, scattering widespread. The Highland hare’s wild charge sent fresh energy into the woodland ranks. Howling warcries, they threw themselves anew into the fray.
Bisky found himself with a gang of Gonfelin slingers, whipping stones off, hitting birds and reptiles like a sudden thunderstorm.
A voice rang out. “Cummback ’ere, yer scummy-bummed, onion-snouted blaggards, stand an’ fight! Yowch! Wot didyer do that for, Da?”
It was Gobbo. Bisky could not resist a chuckle as he saw Nokko cuff his errant son’s ear again.
“Less o’ the shoutin’ an’ more o’ the slingin’, gabbygob. Sticks’n’stones, remember?”
Bisky and Dubble broke off to charge a group of lizards, who were scurrying around the soil mound. As the fight became more widespread, the activity at the tunnel entrance waned. Some crows took advantage of this, to scramble off down the tunnel. Zaran spotted the birds and went after them.
Korvus Skurr did not see the black otter depart. He was watching Bosie, who was driving several carrion to the far side of the cavern. Something caught the Doomwyte raven’s eye—he turned sharply in the opposite direction. Two magpies, who had fled into the rear cave, came flapping out, with Baliss pursuing them. Now was the time to leave, whilst the woodlanders were scattered, and the hare was well clear of the exit. Korvus launched himself from the perch, gliding silently down.
Outside, two of the crows had escaped, but Spingo had settled for one with her club, and Zaran caught another with her double blade as it tried to flap off skyward. The black otter nodded to the Gonfelin maid.
“Spingo is feeling better, yes?”
She leant on her makeshift club. “Much better, thank ye. How are me da an’ Bisky doin’ in there?”
Zaran shouldered her sword as she walked back to the tunnel. “They fight like warriors. I think it will soon be over in there. Stay here and rest.”
Inside the tunnel, Zaran had not gone far when she saw the pale, flickering light in the gloom. It could be only one thing, a Wyte. The black otter swung her double-bladed sword high, every sinew in her powerful frame tensed. The moment had arrived to avenge the death of her family.
Korvus Skurr was flying low and fast—he did not see the twin blades gleam unti
l too late. Zaran felt the big raven’s talons grip her as she slashed out and thrust into the Doomwyte’s plumage.
Spingo saw them both tumble out into the stream, a wild melee of dark fur and feathers. They plunged into the water, shooting under the surface. The Gonfelin maid hurried to the spot, trying to look into the clouded depths. There was a momentary silence, then Zaran surfaced in a rush of water.
Spingo gasped. “What was that?”
Streamwater swirled red as the otter dragged the bedraggled carcass of the Great Doomwyte up. Zaran released the slain raven; she watched stony-eyed as it floated off with the current. “Now the kinbeasts of Zaran will rest easy!”
Baliss was loose in the big cave. The giant reptile resembled a living nightmare as he roved the sulphurous mists. The huge coils flexed and curled, the hideous head shuddering uncontrollably in the grip of agonised infection. Birds flew high to escape death, reptiles fled everywhere, to crannies and any holes they could find.
With their instinctive fear of adders, the Guosim were almost petrified. The Gonfelin were little better off at being confronted by such a monster.
Bosie seized Nokko and Dubble, shaking them soundly. “Och, ye’ve good reason tae be afeared o’ yon serpent, but don’t just stan’ there tremblin’. Gather yore crews an’ get oot o’ here. Move yersel’s, buckoes!”
Bisky began pushing all and sundry toward the tunnel. “Bosie’s right, no beast could face that thing. Let’s move while we’re still able to. Get going. Now!”
Zaran re-entered the cavern, immediately taking in the scene. She stood with Bosie and Bisky at the tunnel entrance, as the woodlanders hurried by them. Keeping an eye on Baliss, who had started gorging upon the slain, Bosie tried summing the situation up.
“A score o’ warriors’d be nae good against yon beastie. Aye, but once we’re out o’ this place, how d’we stop it comin’ after us?”
Zaran had a suggestion. “Once all your creatures are out of here, could you not block the entrance?”
Bisky shepherded the last of the Guosim out of the cavern. “We could try. I’m sure our moles could look at it, they’re the ones who’d know about such work.”