Doomwyte

by Brian Jacques

  Further conversation was cut short by the arrival of Jeg and some of his cohorts. Jeg was carrying a willow switch, which he immediately slashed across Bisky’s shoulders.

  As the young mouse arched his back with pain, Dubble yelled at Jeg, “Ahoy, snotnose, enjoyin’ yoreself are ye? You shouldn’t be painted black’n’green. No, yellow’d be the right colour for you, stinkin’ coward that y’are!”

  Squealing with rage, Jeg began flogging Dubble. “I killya for that, killya! Yeeeeh!”

  Bisky roared at the top of his lungs, “You rotten worm, if’n I was loose I’d slay ye with my bare paws, ye spineless scum!”

  The noisy cacophony roused Chigid, who had been having a lie in, to heal his injuries. He came limping along the bough, accompanied by his mate, Tala, and several guards. Seizing the switch from his son, he tossed it down onto the cooking fires below, chattering at him. “Yikkiirrr! Stoppit, they’re my pris’ners!”

  Jeg glared at both captives. “Yaaarrr! I wanna kill ’em, they callin’ me bad names!”

  Chigid glared at Jeg, baring his pointed teeth. “I say when we kill ’em, not you. Much work t’be done round ’ere, vikkles t’be got, that’s pris’ners’ job!”

  Tala interceded on her son’s behalf, calming Chigid. “Hayaaah, Chief injured, go now an’ rest. Let Jeg take these beasts to gather vikkles!” She indicated three of her female companions. “Yew go with Jeg, keep a good watch on the mouses.”

  Chigid touched his scorched tail gingerly as he limped off, cautioning Jeg. “Yew lose ’em an’ I skin ye good!”

  Shortly thereafter, Bisky and Dubble were unbound and lowered to the woodland floor. There they were roped together by their necks, each being fitted with a hobble on their footpaws that had a boulder tied to it. Both were still as yet unable to get their forepaws working.

  Jeg ordered the three guards to wait, whilst he vanished into the trees. He was back shortly, carrying fresh switches, which he issued to the minders. Making whippy noises with his own switch, the young Painted One smirked wickedly at his captives. “Yeeheee! You find plenty berries, fruits, eggs an’ fishes. Lots o’ vikkles, or ye get punished bad!”

  Dragging the rocks to which they were hobbled, the pair lumbered awkwardly off. Dubble managed to murmur to Bisky, as they fell behind slightly, “Keep yore eyes an’ wits peeled for a chance, any chance. Don’t be afeared of slayin’ ’em if’n ye have to.”

  The young mouse replied out of the side of his mouth, “Don’t worry, mate, I won’t be scared of finishin’ the job, if’n it comes down to them or us!”

  Swish! Jeg’s switch caught both their paws. “Sharrap an’ get movin’, ye slackers!”

  Dubble actually smiled at Jeg. “That’s a nice liddle whip ye’ve got there, sir, ’twould come right out both yore ears if’n I was to stuff it up yore nostrils.”

  Jeg raised the switch, but something in the Guosim shrew’s eyes warned him not to strike with it. To save face, Jeg slashed at some dandelions, knocking the flowering heads from their stems. He called to the guards, “Yekka! Keep these two movin’!”

  The three guards were not as vindictive as Jeg. Bisky found that if they kept a reasonable pace, their trio of minders did not goad them.

  Travelling through the late spring woodlands, they came upon a copse where, in a shaded spot, mushrooms grew in abundance. Under the watchful eyes of the guards, and Jeg, who lounged in the low branches of a maple, the two captives picked mushrooms. After awhile, Dubble began digging amidst the grass. One of the female guards prodded him with her switch.

  “Wotcha doin’? Yer supposed t’be pickin’ mushrooms.”

  The young shrew sniffed at his paws. “Radishes, there’s wild radishes growin’ here.”

  She pulled a face. “Yaaah, don’t like radishes, leave ’em where they are.”

  Just to assert his superiority over the group, Jeg called out from his perch, “Dig some radishes out, my dadda likes ’em. You ’elp ’im, mousey, go on!”

  Bisky joined Dubble at the digging, muttering to him, “I don’t like radishes, either, mate, wot are we scrabblin’ with our bare paws in the dirt for? Pickin’ mushrooms is much easier.”

  Dubble showed him a sharp flint shard he had dug up. Stowing it swiftly in his belt, he winked at Bisky. “Just keep diggin’ an’ see if’n ye can find a good, sharp flint like I’ve got, then hide it quick. Nothin’ like a flint shard for cuttin’ these ropes, or a few Painted Ones’ throats, when we gets the chance!”

  Jeg threw a twig at them, calling, “Where’s the radishes yer diggin’ for, eh?”

  Bisky suddenly came upon a keen-edged flint, shaped almost like a small knife blade. He shouted back, “Haven’t found ’em yet, but there’s radishes round here somewheres if’n my mate says there is.”

  Jeg climbed down from the maple, and came to see for himself. Casting about with a footpaw, he sneered, “Yeeecha, ain’t no radishes growin’ here, waste o’ time diggin’. The mushrooms’ll do, let’s git back t’the camp wid them. Move yerselves!”

  On the journey back to the five-topped oak, Bisky whispered to his companion, “I found a sharp flint, it’s hidden in my tunic. What’s the next move, mate?”

  Dubble’s lips hardly moved as he replied, “Wait’ll tonight, once it gets dark an’ all the scum are asleep—that’s when we make our move!”

  16

  On the rock overlooking the deep pool where the Welzz lived, Korvus Skurr perched in sombre silence. His snake, Sicariss, lay coiled on the far side of the pool. Korvus was curious as to why the smoothsnake had not been perching, crownlike, on his head of late. However, the tyrant raven had not questioned the reptile. She would talk to him sooner or later, but the silence between the evil pair was becoming uneasy. Korvus adjusted his stance, affecting to appear unconcerned as he spoke casually. “Karraaah, have ye not consulted with the Welzz today?”

  Sicariss stayed mute, letting her eyes cloud over.

  When the raven spoke again he sounded more commanding. “Yekkarr! Has the Welzz been fed?”

  Sicariss gave her sinuous head the smallest shake.

  The raven clacked his heavy beak. “Rrraaakk! That’s why the Welzz has not spoken. Feed it!”

  There was veiled insolence in the snake’s reply. “Shall I feed it a black bird?”

  Hopping down from the rock, Korvus advanced angrily on Sicariss. “Yakaaah! My birds are not to be fed to that thing! Are there no prisoners, did my Wytes bring nothing back?”

  Sicariss unfolded her coils lazily. “Wytesss are your businesss, not mine.”

  The raven stopped just short of her; he sensed that Sicariss was brooding about something. But still he avoided asking her, instead, he rapped out his orders. “There are plenty of fat, old toads in the other cavern. Tell my crows to bring one here to me!”

  Sicariss knew that Korvus Skurr could be dangerous when he was disobeyed. She slithered off to do his bidding.

  No sooner had the smoothsnake departed for the sulphurous outer cavern than Veeku, leader of the carrion crows, came winging in. Landing alongside Korvus, he waited obediently.

  The raven tyrant fixed him with his piercing dark eyes. “Rakkah, have my Wytes returned?”

  Veeku bowed his head. “Mighty One, they are back.”

  Korvus spread his wings irately. “Ayaaaark! Then where are they?”

  The crow backed off slightly, still with bowed head. “They are outside, perched in the branches of the birch tree, but they will not enter your caves, Lord.”

  This was something that Korvus Skurr had never before encountered. “Gaaraaakuh! Why is this, Veeku?”

  “Mighty One, I know not….”

  The spread of the mighty raven’s wings almost knocked the crow flat as Korvus launched himself into the air. “Yakkaaah! I will speak with my Wytes.” He hovered over Veeku momentarily, lowering his voice. “Have Sicariss watched, listen to what she says, follow where she goes. Do this secretly, my trusty Veeku.” He flapped off, leaving
behind a puzzled crow leader.

  Veeku had reported truly. Outside, by the stream, four ravens perched in the branches of the downy birch, silent and brooding. Korvus landed next to Frang, the senior bird. “Reekah! Greetings, brother, why do ye not come inside?”

  Frang did not use any formal title as he replied, “Two Wytes have flown to Hellgates…. Slain!”

  Korvus made a noise of surprise. “Whaaaark! Two, ye say?” He stood wordless, waiting for Frang’s explanation.

  The senior raven stared straight ahead as he reported. “Our brother Purz was killed by poison darts. It was the Painted Ones who slew him.” Now he turned and looked his Chieftain in the eye. “We saw the serpent Baliss eating our brother Tarul. You should never have enlisted the Evil One’s aid!”

  Korvus was bewildered at this turn of events. “Yakkar! Where did ye see this thing happen, Frang?”

  The senior raven’s tone was loaded with accusation. “In the ditch outside of the red house. None of the earthcrawlers could have killed Tarul, he was daring and brave. Only Baliss could have done the deed. The monster will kill and eat anything that moves. Nobeast can rid us of him!”

  The news, totally unexpected, momentarily stunned Korvus. It was Frang who snapped him back to reality, by stating boldly, “Heyaaar! ’Twas not a wise thing, sending for Baliss, ye should not have done it!”

  Korvus was in such a rage that he hopped about clacking his beak against the tree trunk. “Harrrrakarakk! I am the Great Doomwyte, nobeast tells me what to do, I give the orders!”

  Frang moved back to stand with the other three ravens. Facing up to Korvus, he grated flatly, “Yagarr, then ye did the wrong thing, we are all in danger from the poison-fanged one!”

  The tyrant Chieftain stood glaring at him, holding his silence whilst trying to seek a reply.

  Frang and three Raven Wytes stared back at him, unafraid. The realisation of his position struck Korvus Skurr. He was the biggest, and strongest, of all carrion, but they were four to one. He was outside of his underground realm, with no mystique surrounding him. No sulphurous clouds, or snake crowning his head. No pounding drums and prostrate reptiles awaiting his every word. Turning, he strode off in a haughty manner, cawing dismissively. “Hurraak! I will think on your rebellious words. You will wait on my decision!”

  “Hayaaah, then make it soon, we will not wait around to be slain by Baliss!”

  Korvus did not turn, aware that it was Frang who had spoken. The Great Doomwyte knew he had been challenged. In a short space of time he had three new troubles. First, Sicariss, and her hostile manner, which he could not fathom. Next came his own Raven Wytes and their ultimatum to leave him. And finally, the biggest problem of all, the blind monster, Baliss, and the pact he had thoughtlessly made with him.

  Korvus flew inside, through the horrific cave, with its sulphur-laden atmosphere, boiling lake and dripping walls. Insects scuttled through the heaps of rotting offal and yellowing bones. Winging over the eyeless monolith of the Doomwyte, he glided into the inner chamber. There in the cooler dimness he landed by the deep pool. Purposely, Korvus alighted close to Sicariss, hunching himself, so the smoothsnake could climb up and coil around his brow. She slithered away from him, coiling further around the edge of the pool. Attempting to make conversation, the tyrant nodded at the watery depths. “Rakkah, has my Welzz been fed?”

  Sicariss replied indolently, “A fat, old toad, jussst asss ye ordered.”

  Puffing out his chest plumage, the big raven swaggered to the rim, staring down into the water. “Harrr, and did he tell ye any secrets that I should hear?”

  The snake stretched, then coiled loosely, as though she was about to take a nap. “Welzzzzz had wordssss for you….” She paused, adding almost mockingly, “O Mighty One.”

  On the high, wooded hillside, the dark beast stopped toiling at some tough, ancient hornbeam roots. The mysterious creature watched the Wytes quarreling with Korvus Skurr. Leaving the others still perched in the downy birch, Korvus strutted back into his caves. Wielding the double-bladed sword, the dark beast went back to work on the tree roots, glad that Korvus had not been injured, or slain by his own creatures. The fate of the Doomwyte Chieftain would be decided not by any bird. It was reserved for only one. The dark watcher.

  Down in Redwall Abbey’s cellars, the jolly Sister Violet wielded a bung mallet, cautioning Brother Torilis as she swung it. “Now hold that spigot still, Brother, but mind yore paws. Hold it at the bottom, there, that’s right!”

  They were broaching a fresh barrel of Corksnout Spikkle’s renowned Strawberry Fizz. Violet dealt the spigot a resounding thwack. Pink liquid sprayed everywhere as the barrel was broached. Speedily, she dealt the spigot several more blows, until the wide end was seated, and the spray halted.

  Brother Torilis gasped, wiping liquid from his face, then stood with his paws widespread, and a look of dismay on his sombre features. “Ugh, just look at me, Sister, I’m saturated with that sweet, sticky cordial, absolutely soaked!”

  The plump hedgehog Sister chuckled. “’Twas all in a good cause, Brother, our Dibbun heroes called for more, and so they shall have more, lots more. Thirsty liddle warriors!” She watched the effervescent pink drink bubbling into a wooden pail set beneath the spigot tap. “Golly goodness, I do like a sip o’ Strawberry Fizz m’self. Even though it tickles the throat on the way down. What about you, Brother?”

  Torilis shuddered. “Dreadful stuff, far too sweet for my taste. I’d sooner have cold mint tea. Huh, after I’ve changed this robe and taken a bath. What are you looking at me like that for, Sister?”

  Violet held up a paw for silence. “Shush, Brother, can you hear that booming noise?”

  Torilis could hear the sound, he glanced nervously around the dimly lit cellar. “Probably something that only Cellarhog Spikkle knows about. Let’s not loiter down here, Sister, the Dibbuns will be waiting for their Fizz.”

  Violet left the pail and hurried off to the rear chamber, holding up her lantern. “That’ll be Laird Bosie’s party, back from their search, Brother. Come and lend a paw with the doorbolt.”

  Between them they dealt with the stout bolt, which Corksnout had fitted to the repaired door. The pair were bowled over by a big, tawny owl who rushed up the small flight of steps. He was followed by the others, with Umfry close behind, shouting, “Somebeast’s been pourin’ Straw-bee Fizz, h’I c’n smell h’it. Hoho, let me h’attit!”

  Flourishing Martin’s sword, Bosie bowed elegantly. “Guid tae be back hame, marm, yer well, Ah trust.”

  Sister Violet was all a-fluster at the hare’s gallantry. “Oh, indeed we are, sir, ye’ve arrived just in time. They’re holdin’ a feast in the orchard for the Dibbuns, two of ’em slew one o’ those big birds!”

  Skipper Rorgus smote the floor with his rudder. “Well bully for ’em, I says. Come on, Aluco, mate, let’s get ye vittled up with good Redwall fare!”

  Brother Torilis addressed Samolus. “Where’s Bisky? I don’t see him with you.”

  Bosie put up his sword. “Och, cheer up, laddie, we’ll be goin’ tae rescue him as soon as we’ve taken a wee bite tae eat. Right, lead me tae the feast!”

  They had just emerged from the main door of the Abbey when they heard the big west wallgate slam shut as Corksnout Spikkle came bounding across the lawns, roaring and shouting. “Wahoooow! Get Brother Torilis! Ooooooh, hurry, quick! I’ve just been bitten by a monster serpent! Yawooooh!” The big Cellarhog was totally hysterical; his false nose had moved around on its cord, and was dangling from the back of his head. He was stampeding hither and thither, heedless of any fixed direction.

  In his panic, Corksnout thundered over Torilis, not even noticing who he was. “Owowowoooh! The big snake bit me! Oooooh, it hurts! Wahaaah, I’m poisoned t’death!”

  Skipper called to Bosie, “Quick, we’ve got to stop him afore he injures himself or any other beast. Get him, mate!”

  Halting a large hedgehog of Corksnout’s size was no easy task. However,
it was the swift action of the hare and otter which accomplished it.

  In a swirl of kilt, tunic and lace ruffs, Bosie threw himself flat in the charging beast’s path, tripping Corksnout. The huge Cellarhog went headlong, scoring a path through grass and herbaceous border. Skipper fell upon the unfortunate, landing upon the big fellow’s head. Corksnout was blowing out mouthfuls of grass, buttercups and daisies as he wailed aloud, “Gerroff me, can’t ye see I’m dyin’? Ouchouch! The sting’n’the pain! Yaaaaaargh!”

  Regardless of the bristling spikes, Skipper held on to the runaway bravely. He was joined by Bosie, Dwink, Umfry and Samolus, whilst Aluco hopped around them, hooting alarmingly. Brother Torilis sat down beside Corksnout’s head, speaking calmly.

  “Please stop all this howling and yowling, Mister Spikkle. If you’ve been really bitten by a poison snake, then the best thing to do is lie quite still. Dashing about will only make the venom circulate through your body quicker. So be a goodbeast and tell me how you were bitten, and where. Only then can I attend to you, sir!”

  Through despairing sobs, the hedgehog managed some self-control as he explained, “I was just droppin’ the slain bird into the ditch, outside the gate. Well, I managed to get him across the path, an’ into the ditch, then I was turnin’ away to come back inside, when bang! I was struck right on the rear, I was hit so bloomin’ hard that I was shot forward, right through the gateway. The pain was like redhot needles, I’ve never felt ought like it, Brother. I turned around an’ guess wot I saw!”

  Bosie shouted, “Tell us, laddie, tell us!”

  Corksnout shut his eyes tight, as if trying to blot out the memory of the dreadful sight. “It was a great monster serpent, with ’orrible milky blue eyes, an’ the dead raven hangin’ from its mouth. I slammed the gate fast as I could!”

  Brother Torilis nodded sagely, moving down to inspect his patient’s rear end, which had a bald patch, devoid of spikes. He took a closer look, patting the area lightly.