Mossflower (Redwall)

by Brian Jacques

  They made their way back to Brockhall that fine spring noon, unaware that they were passing on a parallel course to Tsarmina and her returning army.

  The wildcat Queen was in a foul temper. ‘I wouldn’t give a pawful of mouldy bread for the lot of you, standing gawping while your Captain gets slain by an otter.’

  From somewhere in the jumbled ranks a voice murmured impudently, ‘Huh, I noticed you didn’t leap forward to help Cludd.’

  Tsarmina whirled on the troops in a fury. ‘Just let me catch the one who said that! You bunch of buffoons couldn’t even get a single arrow off at that badger. Oh no, you stood there like a load of frogs catching flies.’

  As she turned to press on, the voice continued muttering, ‘Well, you’ve got the biggest bow. Why didn’t you use it?’

  Tsarmina grabbed her unstrung bow from the pine marten and flailed indiscriminately about her.

  ‘Ashleg, I want that cheeky beggar found,’ she shrieked. ‘I’m the Queen, d’you hear? I’ll make an example of whoever it is.’

  The pine marten dropped back. Marching at the rear, he bobbed up and down to see if he could catch the cheeky one unawares.

  When the army straggled wearily back into Kotir at midday, Tsarmina’s temper had not improved.

  ‘Ashleg,’ she commanded. ‘Dismiss this load of nincompoops. Send them to their barracks. I’ll be up in my chambers.’

  Ashleg was stumping his way round to the front when the voice was heard again.

  ‘Oh, that’s nice, lads. Wish I had comfy chambers instead of a damp barracks.’

  Tsarmina turned to confront the sea of blank faces, but she stifled her reply and contented herself by elbowing her way savagely through the ranks to the main door.

  ‘Dinny, I was thinking – could you burrow upwards through the side of this cave?’

  The mole tested the walls with his digging claws.

  ‘Loik as not, Marthen. But ’ee’d need diggen claws loik oi to foller upp’ard if we’n all t’get outten ’ere.’

  Martin patted his friend’s velvety back. ‘Good mole, Din. We only need you to reach the surface, then you can lower something down so we can all climb out.’

  Dinny wiped his paws. ‘Stan’ outten this yurr mole’s way. Yurr go oi!’

  With a mole’s undoubted digging skills, Dinny was soon burrowing inward and upward.

  Martin reported the plan to Snakefish as Log-a-Log and Gonff backpawed the freshly dug earth out of the way into the pit below.

  Night and day were of little consequence in the misty world of the marshes. The toads had lingered awhile on the edge of Screamhole, but there was little to see, and their enjoyment was marred by the fact that no screams issued from the well. One by one they drifted off, back to the Court of Marshgreen. Deathcoil and Whipscale stayed, however. They sat by the Screamhole, waiting to hear the cries of their foes as Snakefish did his grisly work.

  The newt felt the stump of his new growing tail.

  ‘What’s happening down there? Has the Snakefish gone to sleep?’ he snarled.

  Deathcoil stretched leisurely on the ground. ‘Patience! Have you ever known any creature to escape what happens in the Screamhole? Snakefish is probably feeling sluggish from lying in that muddy water for so long. He’ll liven up when the hunger drives him. You’ll see. Sit down here and wait a bit.’

  The unsavoury pair stretched out side by side.

  They had been dozing for some considerable time when the earth beneath them began trembling.

  Deathcoil pulled to one side, rearing up. ‘Did you feel that? The ground’s shaking.’

  The newt scampered out of the trembling area. ‘Quick, let’s get out of here.’

  His companion slithered behind. ‘No, wait, it’s only in that one spot,’ he called out. ‘The ground is quite still over here. Let’s get behind that rock and see what happens.’

  In a short while, two digging claws and a moist snout broke through the ground surface. Young Dinny emerged from the earth, shaking soil from his coat. Going to the edge of the Screamhole well, he called down, ‘Doant wurry, soon ’ave ee outen thurr, ho urr.’

  The spies behind the rock slithered away to inform Marshgreen and his toads of what they had seen.

  Tsarmina slept heavily after the night spent in Mossflower Woods. The nightmare visited her dreams again; once more she was engulfed by cold, dark, rushing water. It flooded her senses as she fought feebly against the muddy engulfing tide that filled nostrils, ears and eyes. At the very moment when she felt all was lost and drowning was inevitable, she came awake with a start. Stumbling heavily, she slumped on the floor, pawing the solid stones to reassure herself. Stone was real; it was good. These stones belonged to her, Queen of the Thousand Eyes. She looked gratefully at the floor.

  That was when she saw the pawprints in the dust.

  Two mice and two moles!

  Fortunately Ashleg was halfway up the chamber stairs when he heard the Queen screeching his name. As quickly as his wooden limb would allow, he hop-skipped the remainder of the distance. Bursting into the chamber, Ashleg found himself confronting a Tsarmina he had not encountered before. The wildcat sat on the floor, hunched up in a cloak that had once belonged to her father. She was rocking back and forth, gazing intently at the stone floor.

  Ashleg closed the door and bowed apprehensively.

  ‘Your Majesty?’

  Tsarmina did not look up. ‘Mice and moles. Search this room for mice and moles.’

  ‘Immediately, Milady.’

  Ashleg did not stop to question the order. Knowing how dangerous Tsarmina’s mood could become, he set about the task. Peering into cupboards, looking beneath the table, behind the wall hangings and drapes, the pine marten searched the entire room thoroughly.

  ‘No mice or moles here, Milady,’ he reported.

  Tsarmina sprang up, pointing imperiously at the door. ‘Then go. Search the whole of Kotir!’

  Ashleg saluted and hobbled swiftly to the door.

  ‘No, wait!’

  He halted, not sure of which way to turn next. Tsarmina was smiling at him. Ashleg gulped visibly as she put a paw about his shoulders.

  ‘Ashleg, where is Gingivere?’

  ‘He escaped, Majesty. You followed him yourself,’ he replied, puzzled.

  ‘Oh, come now, you don’t fool me,’ Tsarmina chuckled, almost good-naturedly. ‘First it was those two hedgehogs that escaped – but they didn’t really, they were here all the time. Then there was the fox who was really an otter. Now my very own room is covered in the tracks of woodlanders. Come on, out with it, old friend, you can tell me.’

  Ashleg began to be very frightened. ‘Milady, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m only Ashleg. I served your father faithfully and now I obey and serve only you.’

  Tsarmina smiled knowingly. ‘Completely loyal to all my family, eh, Ashleg?’

  ‘Oh yes, indeed, Milady.’

  The murderous claws shot out, burying themselves into the pine marten’s shoulder through the feathered cape he wore. Tsarmina’s whiskers brushed against his face as she snarled, ‘So, that’s it. You’re helping my brother now. Gingivere never really escaped, did he? It was all a trick. He’s still here with those woodlanders. They’re turning my army against me. Maybe he was with me all the time I was in the forest looking for him. Ha, he’s a sly one, that brother of mine. I’ll bet it was him who pushed me into the water when the otters loosed the big pike. . . . Ugh!’

  Ashleg’s face was a mask of frozen agony. The claws dug deeply in him, blood was staining his cloak.

  Suddenly Tsarmina released him and scrubbed furiously at herself with the cloak she was wearing.

  ‘Uuuuuhhhh, deep, cold, slimy, dark water,’ she muttered incoherently.

  Ashleg backed quietly out of the chamber. The wildcat was oblivious of his departure; she was battling the watery torrents in her imagination.

  As the pine marten hobbled swiftly down the stairs, his
Queen’s ravings echoed about the spiral stairwell.

  ‘Stay away! Stay away! You won’t get me. I won’t come near the water.’

  Ashleg’s mind was made up: he could not stop a moment longer. Tsarmina was a mad Queen. Kotir was a place of danger to those who stayed there.

  The late afternoon sun poured down over the ramparts of Kotir. Silence made it frightening to the departing Ashleg; the large areas of dark shadow and sunlit stillness unnerved him. He had cast aside the plumed scarlet cape, exchanging it for a dull brown homespun cloak. Hurrying across the deserted parade ground, Ashleg slipped through the gates and began walking south – away from Tsarmina, Mossflower and dreams of ambitious conquest. Maybe there was somewhere under a different sky where he could find a new way of life; maybe somewhere there were friends waiting who knew how to live simply, without delusions of grandeur.

  Perched in his high spruce, Argulor opened one eye. Never too proud to scavenge, the eagle had satisfied his hunger with the results of the confrontation at the river. Argulor’s eye closed again lazily. Feeling full and tired, he slept on in the mistaken hope that everything comes to him who waits.

  Ashleg had flown the coop; that is, if a pine marten with a wooden leg does ever fly.

  Dinny counted himself lucky. He had found the woven rush net that had carried them to Screamhole. Securing one end to a tree root, he pushed the remainder over the edge of the pit.

  ‘Yurr below, grab’n ’old of ’ee net, Marthen.’

  Unfortunately the net fell short of the travellers’ grasp.

  From above the mole’s voice was calling urgently, ‘Burr, ’asten now. Oi ’ears they toadbags a-cummen.’

  Gonff jumped up and down with frustration. ‘Think of something quick, mateys!’

  Snakefish poked his massive head up. ‘Sit on my head. I think I can reach it!’

  ‘What? Not likely!’ Log-a-Log backed into the cave.

  ‘Urry, they’m nearly yurr!’ Dinny called.

  Sitting at the edge of the cave, Martin placed his paws on the huge reptilian head and braced himself against the skull ridge beneath the smooth skin.

  ‘Push me up, Snakefish!’

  The great eel thrust upward, slid back slightly, then with a colossal effort reared out of the water and shot up like a bolt. Martin grasped the net, keeping his purchase on the eel’s head.

  ‘Quick, bite!’

  Snakefish’s teeth clamped onto the bottom of the net. He hung there a moment, then began bunching his coils, the rough underskin finding contact with the fibres as he weaved his sinuous body into the meshes of the net.

  Martin pulled upward. Snakefish secured himself, and called, ‘I can make it easily. Show yourselves, you two below. I’ll loop my bottom coils around you and lift you up with me.’

  Log-a-Log and Gonff stood clutching each other, their eyes shut tightly as they felt themselves enveloped in steely coils and lifted effortlessly.

  Marshgreen and his toads loomed out of the cottony mists. Three of them waddled forward, trying to capture Dinny as the mole flayed about with heavy digging claws.

  ‘Gurr, ’ee doant cum near oi, sloimy toadbags,’ he warned.

  Deathcoil and Whipscale noticed too late the net fastened at the edge of the Screamhole. Martin came leaping over the edge, loosing stones from his sling, fast and accurate. He bounced a rock off Marshgreen’s head, knocking him flat.

  Gurgling screams of horror greeted the next arrival from the pit. The head of Snakefish appeared, dripping like some primeval monster from the abyss, slitted eyes and white rows of teeth confronting the terrified assembly.

  ‘Toadflesh!’ With a bunching serpentine motion, the slayer of the swamps pulled himself clear of the pit, shedding his passengers in the same movement.

  Gonff and Log-a-Log sprang up, battling despite their bruised ribs. Pandemonium took over as Snakefish struck like a thunderbolt into the nearest group of toads. Regardless of tridents and firefly lanterns, the giant eel went about the business of satisfying his immense hunger.

  Martin turned away, sickened by the grisly spectacle.

  ‘Are you all right, Din?’ he called anxiously. ‘Quick, Gonff, Log-a-Log. Let’s get out of here right now.’

  Gonff stared wildly into the mists. ‘Aye, but which way, matey?’

  ‘Hoo arr, this’n’ll show ’ee.’ Young Dinny had a fierce headlock on the groggy Marshgreen.

  Martin grabbed a trident and poked the toad Chief.

  ‘Good mole, Din. Come on, you. Lead the way due west, or I’ll stick you on this oversized dinner fork and feed you to Snakefish.’

  Marshgreen waddled off pleading mournfully, ‘Krrgloik! Mousefur notkill Marshgreen, showyou waytogo.’

  In a short space of time they were blanketed on all sides by a mist so heavy it drowned out even the far-off squeals of Snakefish’s victims.

  Log-a-Log watched the green bulk of the toad waddling ahead. ‘Well, at least he seems to know which way to go. What’s next in your rhyme, Gonff?’

  Without hesitation Gonff reeled off Olav Skyfurrow’s lines,

  ‘O feathered brethen of the air,

  Fly straight and do not fall,

  Onward cross the wet gold flat,

  Where seabirds wheel and call.’

  Martin prodded Marshgreen lightly with the trident. ‘Do you know that place?’

  The defeated toad Chief turned, blinking his eyefilms. ‘Krrploik! Notfar notfar, shorebad, seabird eatyou eatme.’

  Martin leaned on the trident. ‘Oh, stop moaning, Greenbottom. We’ll let you go when we’re free of this mist. Though it’s more than you deserve.’

  Eventually they reached a clear running stream. They drank some water while Dinny dug up edible roots.

  ‘Gurr, rooten. They baint no deeper’n ever pie, no zurr.’

  Gonff perched on a rock. ‘Don’t worry, matey. If we ever come out of all this in one piece I’ll steal the biggest pie in all Mossflower, just for you.’

  Dinny closed his eyes dreamily. ‘Urr, a roight big’n an’ all furr this yurr mole.’

  Gonff broke into song.

  ‘It will be great, I’ll watch you, mate,

  And you can dive right in.

  But don’t sing with your mouth full,

  “This pie is all for Din.”

  A crust as light as thistledown,

  And filled with all you dream:

  Fresh vegetables, the best of fruit,

  All floating round in cream.’

  Dinny lay upon his back, waving stubby paws. ‘O joy, O arpiness, an’ all fur oi, ’ee say.’

  The trek was long and wearisome; time stood still in the land of the mists. Martin longed to see natural daylight again, be it bright and sunny, or clouded and rainy.

  They were negotiating a particularly soggy stretch of ground when Log-a-Log remarked to Gonff, ‘Here, d’you reckon things have gone a bit darkish?’

  Gonff jumped onto a tussock of dry reeds. ‘That’s prob’ly because night-time’s coming on, matey.’

  Martin pointed. ‘Look, I can see the sky.’

  Sure enough, the mists were beginning to thin. Pale evening sky was plainly visible from where they stood.

  Gonff made a further discovery. ‘See, on the other side of this grass, there’s sand. Looks like miles of the stuff.’

  Hurriedly they jumped onto the tussock to confirm Gonff’s sighting. Behind them, Marshgreen picked up the trident and waddled off, back into his domain of swamp and mist.

  The questors gazed in wonder at the scene before them. On the horizon the sun was sinking in a sheen of pearl grey and dusty crimson. Martin’s paw shot up, pointing northwest. ‘Look, the flames of Salamandastron!’

  32

  THAT SAME EVENING, the Corim assembled in the main room of Brockhall. There was much to be discussed. Goody Stickle bustled about laying the table, with Coggs firmly attached to her apron strings. The little hedgehog did not complain; besides, speaking through a mouthful of hot acorn s
cone dripping with fresh butter and damson jam was not quite the form for budding warriors and daring escapers. He waved in passing to Ferdy, who was seated in a deep armchair with Ben Stickle.

  Between bites of his scone, Ferdy related a highly coloured version of their adventures.

  ‘So me and Coggs broke the door down and pounced on these three weasels – or was it stoats? No, they were weasels. Anyhow, there was six of them, great ugly vermin. Hoho, did we ever give them what for! The wildcat Queen was there, but she took one look at us and ran away. Good job, too! D’you know, Ben, me and old Coggs there, we had to carry four squirrels off through the trees – or was it otters? No, it was squirrels, I’m sure. Saved them from those Kotir soldiers, though.’

  Ben Stickle wiped jam and crumbs from Ferdy’s mouth.

  ‘Must have made the pair of you powerful hungry. You haven’t done anything but eat since you got back, except talk, that is. Are you sure you never chattered any of those stoats to death?’

  When the table was laid, silence fell as Bella entered the room.

  ‘My hall is your home,’ she said. ‘Please fill your platters and eat the excellent food. Thank you, Goody Stickle, for this splendid table.’

  There was an immediate clatter of serving and good humour.

  ‘Pass that deeper’n ever pie. Mind you don’t fall in.’

  ‘Hoho, is that leek and onion broth I smell?’

  ‘Mmm, fruit pie. Ouch, it’s hot!’

  ‘Here, cool it down with some of this cream.’

  ‘Pass the butter, please.’

  ‘Nut pudding! My old mum used to make this.’

  ‘Aye, I remember Gonff pinching it from her oven.’