It was a long time before they were finished conferring. Korvus Skurr signalled to Veeku, leader of the carrion crows. He hopskipped across the cave floor, with a quick, bouncy gait. Veeku paid heed to his instructions, then winged off to the sulphured atmosphere of the main cavern, in preparation for the announcement.
Noon shadows were starting to lengthen in the sunny day outside, when the three slow worms arrived back. They were ushered into the big cave by an escort of choughs and jackdaws. The trio of reptiles coiled together at the edge of the steaming lake. Hemmed in by their guards, they instinctively knew trouble was brewing for them when the drums began rumbling. However, they stayed passive, knowing there was no escape from the judgement which was about to descend upon them.
The drumbeats rose in volume and tempo until the high cave, with its noxious, decaying odours and slime-encrusted walls, echoed with their intensity. Every bird and reptile gathered around the boiling, sulphurous lake, chattering, hissing and cawing.
“Warrahaarr! Attend ye the Mighty Korvus Skurr and his crown, Sicariss!”
The drums stopped, and the chatter died immediately. Birds and reptiles stood in frozen silence, staring toward the centre of the mist-shrouded lake.
Boom!
As the echo of the single drumbeat died, the tyrant raven and his smoothsnake appeared. They seemed to float in the mist which surrounded the base of the eyeless, ancient likenesses of themselves.
The cave’s inhabitants chanted, “Rakaah Skurr! Rakaah Skurr! Sicarissssss! Rakaah!”
Veeku launched into his pronouncement. “One of our Wytes has been slain, by the earthcrawlers of the Redstone house….” An audible moan ran through the listeners, then the carrion leader continued, “Great Lord of Doomwytes, the Mighty Korvus Skurr has commanded that there will be a new flame in the woodlands tonight.” Veeku raised his beak toward the vast, high ceiling. “Go to your Master and receive the Mark of the Wyte!”
A young raven, quick of eye and fleet of wing, swooped down from the gloomy recesses. He landed on the central island, in front of Korvus Skurr. Carved in the base of the Doomwyte statue was a shallow basin; it glowed with the strange light of some liquid which floated in it. Sicariss whispered an instruction to the young raven. Holding forth his right wing, he dipped it into the basin, holding it in the glowing fluid whilst the snake chanted.
“Thissss isss the Mark of the Wyte,
thisssss issss the light of the Wyte,
if the light ever diesss or fadesss
that isss the end of your daysssss!”
The young bird stayed with his right wingtip immersed in the liquid, until a nod from the serpent bade him remove it. Korvus Skurr spoke then.
“Harraaak! There are always seven Raven Wytes, you are one of us now. Gaze into the eyes of Sicariss!”
The smoothsnake moved like lightning, wrapping her coils around the initiate’s neck, drawing him close, so that her eyes were but a fraction from his. Sicariss stared intently into the newcomer’s eyes, holding him there until he appeared to go limp. Korvus bowed, pausing until Sicariss had resumed crown position on his head, then he spoke again.
“Yarraaak! Will you live to serve the Doomwyte? Will you die in its service? Will you slay at the will of the Great Doomwyte?”
The young raven’s gaze was fixed on the stone idol. He croaked tonelessly, “I live, I die, I slay, for the Doomwyte!”
Now Korvus turned his attention to the three slow worms, who lay at the lake’s edge, guarded on all sides. The tyrant’s voice was harsh. “Yakkaaarraa! These worms left one of my Wytes to die in the Redstone house. They disobeyed the command of their Master. One of them will get to meet Welzz. The choice is yours, my brother.”
Hissing wildly, the three slow worms coiled about one another, intertwining at the lake’s edge. The new Wyte flew at them, seizing the head of one in his cruel talons. The victim’s strength was not a fraction of the raven’s; with a savage wrench he tore it clear of its companions. The slow worm writhed helplessly as the Wyte soared off to the smaller cave, amidst a loud cawing and hissing of applause from the onlookers. The two remaining slow worms tried to wriggle off, until Veeku clacked his beak at the guards.
“Heekaah, into the lake with them!”
The carrion birds pounced upon the unfortunate slow worms gleefully. There was no love lost between them and the reptiles, whom they considered the lower orders in their caverns. Sicariss watched the two former reptile Wytes writhing in agony as they sank into the boiling waters. She looked down from her head perch, expressing her disapproval to the tyrant raven.
“There wassss no need to ssssslay all three wormsss, one wassss enough. Now we have lossst three more Wytessss.”
But Korvus was unrepentant, and determined to assert his authority. “Hakkah! Who needs worms? If we are to bring back the times of our greatness, the eyes must be returned to the Doomwyte. Have ye not said so yourself, many times?
“We cannot defeat the creatures of the Redstone house in battle, they are secured within their fortress. Stealth and skill are not enough, fear is needed now. Once fear is instilled into the mind, defeat is certain to follow. Fear is the most powerful of all weapons!”
Sicariss tried bringing her influence to bear on the Doomwyte Ruler. “I have many snakesss, sssslow worms, grassss snakessss, even sssmoothsnakessss, ssssuch assss me. Snakessss can be fear itsssself, Mighty One.”
Korvus shook Sicariss roughly from her perch to the ground. “Yaaaaaark! Only my ravens can be trusted to re-gain the Doomwyte Eyes. No more reptiles, toads, lizards or snakes….” Here he paused, then spoke out as though struck by a sudden inspiration. “Except one particular snake.”
Assuming that Korvus was speaking of her, Sicariss hissed gratefully, “Your word issss my command, Mighty One, you will not regret choosssing Sicarissss!”
The big raven clacked his beak dismissively. “Kachah! Who needs you, I was speaking of Baliss!”
Sicariss recoiled in horror at the dreaded name. “Balissss! What would you want with that monsssster?”
The raven’s dark eyes glinted wickedly. “Haaaark! Who better to bring fear to the Redstone house than Baliss the Evil One? Go, bring him to me!”
Outside the caverns, from a vantage point on the wooded hillside, the dark beast sat watching the scene below as evening descended.
Griv the magpie and her mate Inchig flew slowly, close to the ground. They followed the sluggish progress of three reptiles, two grass snakes and a fat toad. Griv had learned all the gossip amongst birds and reptiles concerning the mission, but Inchig had not. As they perched in a woodland clearing, waiting for the reptiles to pass, Inchig was full of curiosity.
“Aaakh! Why are we going to the old quarry?”
Griv pecked at a passing ant. “They are going to see Baliss the Slayer. We are only going to see that they obey orders.”
Inchig seemed to shrink close to the grass. “Baliss? Yarrak, I’m not going near that monster!”
Griv moved aside to let the reptiles pass. “Garrah! We don’t have to, all we do is watch. Otherwise I’d have just flown south, and kept on flying. They say that Baliss is ancient, and blind, but still the most dangerous adder in the land. I heard Sicariss say that the blood of the great Asmodeus runs in his veins.”
Inchig ruffled his plumes as he shuddered. “Kuurrrh! Who will dare speak to such a mighty serpent?”
Griv devoured another ant, nodding after the reptiles. “The grass snakes, I suppose.” She sniggered wickedly. “The toad is nothing but a food offering.”
10
Frintl, the young hog, had already crept out of Cavern Hole for a quick outing. She was about to pop out of the main door, when Skipper Rorgus, coming in from the orchard, caught her. He sent the young hogmaid back to Cavern Hole, where she would have to wait with the others until the breakfast bell sounded. Frintl went back, but only after she had gossiped with a few of the kitchen helpers.
Dwink roused himself from the mossy ledge
, which he and Bisky had occupied overnight. He yawned, gazing around at the Dibbuns and young ones, most of whom were still asleep in the quiet warmth. Frintl was chuckling to herself as she stole back into the temporary dormitory. Dwink’s voice startled her. “Where’ve you been, missy?”
Picking up her blanket, Frintl began folding it. “Oh, I just went outdoors for a stroll, it’s a lovely mornin’, nice ’n’bright.”
Umfry Spikkle entered; rubbing his eyes, he smiled dozily at the hogmaid. “G’mornin’, Frintl.”
She pursed her lips primly. “Not for you it ain’t, Master Spikkle. Father Abbot wants t’see you, an’ not after brekkist, but soon as yore up an’ about. Sister Violet jus’ told me!”
Umfry sat back, nursing his head in both paws. “Spikes’n’Spikkles, suppose I’m in for h’it!”
Bisky hopped down from the ledge, bringing Dwink with him. “Never mind, mate, we’ll go along with ye, an’ put in a good word, if’n we get the chance.”
Abbot Glisam had decided to see Umfry out in the orchard. The gorgeous spring morn and the bright, blossoming trees did little to allay his dismay. Glisam turned to the group of elders who had joined him, shaking his head sadly. “Oh dear, I detest having to sit in judgement on others, especially young uns. I don’t like it at all.”
Umfry’s grandsire, Corksnout Spikkle, sat down on an upturned barrow. “Yore too soft-’earted, Father, best leave this t’me. I was supposed to see the young rip down in my cellars earlier on, but young Frintl said he was sleepin’ sound. So if ye’ll allow me I’ll have a stern word with ’im.”
Glisam smiled gratefully. “Thank you, sir, I’m obliged.”
Brother Torilis sniffed, issuing a disapproving sound. “Hmph!”
The Laird Bosie, who was also in attendance, held out a spotless, scented kerchief. “Here, mah friend, blow yore snout if’n ye’ve got the sniffles.” He watched Torilis stalk off stiffly, then winked at Glisam. “Och, was it somethin’ that Ah said?”
Umfry plodded into the orchard, flanked by Bisky and Dwink. He bowed to the Abbot, who pointed to Corksnout.
“I think it’s your grandfather who wants to hear what you’ve got to say for yourself, young un.”
Corksnout glared at Umfry. “Well?”
Dwink immediately spoke out. “It was my fault, I said that he could sleep in our dormitory last night, ’cos of how bad the weather was. It’s a long walk t’that Gate’ouse through all the wind an’ rain…an’ all that….”
His voice trailed off, so Bisky cut in. “I told him to stay indoors, too, sir, he might’ve caught a cold an’ the sniffles, y’see.”
Corksnout’s gaze moved from one to the other. “I ain’t speakin’ to either of you two. So, young Umfry, wot’s yore excuse for leavin’ the main outer gate open an’ unguarded last night, eh?”
Umfry shuffled his footpaws, mumbling, “The gate was shut an’ barred when h’I left it, sir.”
Samolus added, “He’s prob’ly right, it must’ve been the intruders that opened it.”
Umfry took a grip of himself. Standing up straight, he spoke out loud and clear. “Maybe h’it was, but that’s no h’excuse, ’tis my job h’as Gatekeeper to guard that gate. Well, h’I didn’t. So h’I’ll ’ave to h’ask ye to h’accept me h’ apologies, ’twon’t ’appen again, sir!”
Foremole Gullub Gurrpaw nodded approvingly. “Hurr, well spaken, zurr, wot do ee says, Corkie?”
The burly Cellarhog stroked his chin. “Well said right enough, but something, ’as t’be done about it, so this is my judgement. Umfry, yore relieved of gatekeepin’ duties ’til I says. As a punishment, ye can clean the cellars out, from top to bottom. Sweep, ’em until there ain’t a sign o‘ dust nor cobweb anywhere. All the stock must be restacked, every barrel, keg, puncheon, cask an’ firkin, neat’n’tidy. Dwink an’ Bisky, you confess to encouragin’ Umfry to desert his post?”
Both the young creatures stood to attention. “Aye, sir, we did!”
Corksnout nodded grimly, then adjusted his nose, which had slid into his mouth. “Right, then you can ’elp Umfry with the task!”
Abbot Glisam sighed with relief. “Well, that’s that! But who’ll mind the gate?”
Foremole Gullub raised a huge digging claw. “Hurr hurr, that’ll be Oi, zurr, ee gurt bed in yon gatey’ouse bees the mostest cummfibble wun Oi ever see’d in moi loife.”
A smile played around the Father Abbot’s lips. “As long as you don’t neglect your duties by snoring all day in it. Permission granted!”
Dwink twirled his bushy tail. “When do we start our job?”
Corksnout stood up from the barrow, fixing the trio with a severe stare. “How about right now this instant!”
Umfry’s jaw dropped. “But wot about brekkist?”
Gullub beckoned toward the Abbey. “Cumm ee with Oi, may’ap ee Froir wull make you’m up ee packed vikkles.”
Samolus watched them trotting off happily. “There goes three good young uns, proper friends!”
Bosie waggled his ears. “Aye, ye ken the way they helped each other oot? Och there’s nae much wrong wi’ them!”
Friar Skurpul greeted the friends at the kitchen doorway. “Goo’day, likkle zurrs, you’m cummed to ’elp Oi at ee ovens furr awhoil?”
Foremole Gullub came trundling in behind them. “Hurr, Oi’m afeared they’m b’aint a-worken at ovens t’day, Froir. Thurr bees tarsks furr ’em a-cleanen owt ee cellars. Straightaways, too, an’ they’m b’aint havved a taste o’ brekkfust yet.”
The kindly Friar ladled out three beakers from a cauldron. “Yurr now, set ee doawn an sup moi leekybean soup, whoilst Oi pack summat furr you’m pore stummicks!”
Foremole Gullub helped himself to a tankard of the savoury soup, and a small crusty loaf. He waved to them as he left the kitchen. “Goo’bye, Oi’m off t’moi Gatey’ouse. Hurr hurr, you uns have fun in ee cellars!”
The cellars at Redwall Abbey were ancient, and widespread. Bisky placed the big food parcel, which the Friar had made up, on a barreltop table. He smiled ruefully. “There’s enough cleanin’ work down here to keep us busy for a season or two, I think!”
Dwink had already begun inspecting the contents of the parcel. “Good golly, mates, ole Skurpul’s packed enough to keep us fed for twice that long. Look, apple’n’blackberry turnovers, cheese’n’onion pasties, a full rhubarb crumble, scones, honey an’ salad. Anyone for brekkist?”
Umfry sighed. “Not just yet, Dwink, we’d best make h’a start with the cleanin’ first.”
“That’s the spirit, young uns, work first, eat later!” Corksnout stood in the cellar doorway. “I’m just off to Great ’All for brekkist. But I’ll be back t’see ’ow yore goin’ on with the task. Now you’ll find brooms, mops, pails, dusters an’ so on, outside o’ my room over there. Bend yore backs t’the job at paw, an’ we’ll get on fine t’gether.”
Bisky saluted the big Cellarhog. “Right, sir, where’d you like us to start?”
Corksnout pointed. “Right at the far wall o’ the back cellar. Move all the barrels, dust ’em, make sure the bungs are tight an’ check ’em for leaks. Brush all the floor an’ walls, then restack the barrels.” He strode jauntily off, humming a tune.
Umfry mopped imaginary perspiration from his headspikes. “H’I feel tired jus’ lissenin’ to that ole hog!”
Dwink had gone back to checking their food. “I’ve just noticed somethin’. Friar Skurpul never gave us anythin’ to drink.”
Bisky was grinning broadly, winking at Umfry. “I wonder why, got any ideas, mate?”
Umfry did not see the funny side of things. He shrugged. “Prob’ly ’cos we’re h’in a cellarful o’ drinks. Come on, let’s get the brooms h’an make a start!”
The back cellar was a fair distance from the main chamber. Lanterns had to be lit there before they could see anything clearly. Even then it had a slightly morbid atmosphere, full of shapes and shifting shadows. Barrels, casks, kegs and firkins were stacked in rows, from c
eiling to floor. Umfry moved to the far corner, tapping a heap of standing barrels with his paw.
“These are empty h’ale barrels. Let’s dust ’em h’off.”
Bisky made a sensible suggestion. “Aye, we can roll ’em out into the passage. They’ll be ready then, for the next October Ale brewing.”
They worked steadily at the barrels, with Umfry singing a little song he had learned from his grandad.
“Ye can’t do no more than a good day’s work,
to earn a good day’s feed,
so bend that back an’ when yore done,
some grub is wot you’ll need!
There ain’t no room for idlebeasts,
nowheres about this place,
if ye sit about an’ shirk yore chores,
you’ll end with an empty face!
Keep goin’ it ain’t lunchtime yet,
don’t dare pull tongues at me,
a cellarbeast must earn his bread,
the vittles here ain’t free!
A drop o’ sweat an’ soon I’ll bet,
you’ll see that I was right,
with a back that’s sore an’ a dirty paw,
you’ll sleep like a hog all night!”
Having returned from breakfast, Corksnout looked in. He gave a nod of approval which knocked his nose askew. “Hoho, that’s the way, me jollybeasts. Shift those last two barrels out, then take yore lunchbreak. Here’s some elderflower an’ bilberry cordial for ye to drink.”