Sagax picked up a fallen water flask. Taking a deep swig, he passed it to Triss. “Whew, I can’t remember half of what went on in there. Don’t think I want to, really.”
Triss stared bleakly in front of her. “I can. I still remember the whip strokes I received from some of those Ratguards when I was a slave. I grew up with them!”
“Triss, Trissy mate, ’elp me!”
Dragging himself along on his stomach, Shogg emerged through the open door. Triss was at his side in an instant. “Shogg, what happened, where have you been, are you hurt?”
Without allowing him the time to answer, Triss poured water into the otter’s mouth as Sagax held his head up. The otter drank a drop, the rest trickling from his lips as he gasped, “Snake . . . the big ’un . . . bit me neck . . . Triss, lissen. Kurda, still alive . . . Vorto an’ the slavecatcher, too . . . She got the crown . . . Gone out the back . . . Get ’em, Triss!”
The squirrelmaid saw her friend’s eyes beginning to mist over. She hugged him close, rocking to and fro, murmuring, “We’ll get them, mate, together, when you’re better. But first we’ve got to get you to the Abbey. Malbun and the Abbot will know what to do. You’ll be all right, my Shogg.”
Slowly the otter raised his paws until they held either side of the squirrelmaid’s face. His voice sounded tired. “Too late fer that, me old matey. . . . Promise me, Triss, promise me ye’ll go back to Riftgard an’ free the slaves. That’s wot we were always goin’ t’do, wasn’t it?”
Her tears spilled onto his paws as she looked into his eyes. “Aye, right from that day we stole the boat and escaped. That’s what we vowed and that’s what I’ll do, you know that.”
Shogg smiled. “That was a day to remember, eh, Triss? The first slaves ever to escape from Riftgard.” The otter’s eyes looked away from Triss, over her shoulder. “Welfo, liddle maid, wot are ye doin”ere? Did ye come all the way from Peace Island t’see me? ’Tis kind of ye, mate.”
Shogg’s eyes closed and his head lolled loosely to one side. Sagax gently prised the otter’s paws from Triss’s cheeks.
Triss stared in disbelief at the badger. “Shogg. . . you’re not . . .”
The young badger picked Shogg carefully up. He held him like a babe, blinking back huge tears. “I’ll let him rest in the shade of that oak. When the others get back, we’ll take him to Redwall. Triss, I’m sorry.”
The squirrelmaid just sat there and wept. Sagax came back from his task and placed a paw about her shoulders. “His heart has gone out across the seas to visit your friend on that beautiful isle you told us of.”
Triss wiped her eyes with the back of a paw. “I’ve known Shogg ever since I can recall—we were slaves together. First I lost my father, then Drufo, and now Shogg, the best friend I ever had, is gone. Stay away from me, Sagax, I’m bad luck to know!”
The powerful badger heaved her upright and brought his face close to hers. “I’m not leaving you anywhere, Trisscar. When you return to Riftgard and free the slaves, I’ll be at your side. You can take my word as a warrior on that!”
Mokug and Log a Log returned first. With them they had an unhappy Grubbage. The hamster and the Guosim Chieftain were desolated by the news of Shogg’s death, but Log a Log was not a beast to sit around grieving for long. He took charge immediately.
“Mokug, tie our prisoner to a tree. Then stand by pore young Shogg ’til our friends get back—together ye can take our mate ’ome to the Abbey. Come on, Triss me darlin’, an’ you, too, Sagax. We got business t’finish wid that white polecat an’ ’er cronies. Weepin’ won’t git the job done. If’n our matey Shogg was alive, ’e’d be ’ard on the paws o’ those scum right now. Wot d’ye say?”
With her eyes blazing hotly through the tears, Triss tightened her grip around Martin the Warrior’s sword. “You’re right, friend. What are we wasting time for?”
Sagax shouldered his formidable battle-axe. “I’m with you!”
Throwing caution to the winds, they lit a torch of pine and brushwood and marched boldly into Brockhall. Through the carnage of the battle they strode, ready for anything.
As Log a Log passed the trio of slain serpents, he commented harshly, “Yore killin’ seasons are done. Mossflower’s air will smell sweeter without ye!”
As Sagax mounted the steps to the greenstone exit, a shrew voice challenged him gruffly: “Who goes there? Show yoreself!”
The four Guosim guards they had left behind were in a sorry state. One lay dead, two were unconscious and the remaining shrew was wounded, though not badly. He pointed west into the woodlands.
“Three of ’em, Chief, the white ’un an’ two rats. They pretended they was surrenderin’ an’ tricked us. Let me go with ye.”
Log a Log applied a hasty bandage of dockleaves and grass to his clanbeast’s injured side and made him comfortable. “You stay ’ere an’ do wot ye can for yore mates. You’d only slow us down. Don’t fret, we’ll get ’em for ye!”
Riggan halted on the bank of a small, shady lake and sat down gratefully. “This’ll do, we’ll rest ’til nightfall. Then if’n you still want t’go back for that pawring, things should be quieter at that Brock’all place, marm. That’s if’n ye want t’go, of course.”
Kurda was polishing the crown with some dried moss. She breathed on it and rubbed busily, admiring the way the light caught the heavy gold circlet with its two large jetstones. The Pure Ferret paused and glared regally at her slavecatcher. “Dere is no question, I must return to dat place und find mine pawring. Vorto, go und get somet’ink for your queen to eat. I am hungry!”
Saluting with his spear, the Ratguard Captain obeyed. Riggan, the more forward of the two, commented drily, “So ye ain’t a princess no more, marm—’tis Queen now, eh?”
Kurda drew her sabre. Sliding the crown over its blade, she held them both out to Riggan. “I am Queen by right und conquest. If you vant to be Queen, all you haff to do is lift der crown from dis sabre blade.”
Riggan chuckled nervously, knowing what would happen the second she reached out to touch the crown. “Wot gave ye the idea I want t’be Queen, marm? My duty is to serve you an’ yore father, Agarnu. Er, wot about ’im?”
Kurda’s eyes narrowed, and she giggled like a naughty infant. “Dat von-legged fool? I giff him der same offer I make to you, mine friend. Yarr, I vill be Queen of all Riftgard!”
Vorto came stealing furtively back to the lake bank. Kurda gave him a questioning look. “Vere is der food I send you for?”
The Ratguard Captain placed a paw to his lips. “Not so loud, yore ’ighness, I just seen somethin’. D’yer remember that big rabbit at Redwall Abbey, the one who snared our guards in a net an’ whacked ’em? I saw ’im by chance out in the woodlands, but ’e didn’t see me, an”e’s comin’ this way!”
Kurda’s face was the picture of smug self-satisfaction. “I remember dat von. Hide now, ve vill ambush ’im!”
40
Scarum was lost. Between stopping to eat, napping, and composing heroic ballads about himself, the young hare had wandered willy-nilly through Mossflower and missed all trace of his friends. But he was not unduly bothered; anything was better than skivvying at Redwall on a restricted diet. He rambled on, holding a lively conversation with himself.
“Lost? Oh come off it, old sport, a chap of my perfect qualities is never lost, wot! I’ll wager anythin’ that pretty soon I’ll hear Sagax shoutin’ it’s time for lunch. Huh, that stripeheaded baritone pal o’ mine has a voice like a bloomin’ bushel o’ bullfrogs, lets the whole world know when he’s hungry. Not like me, of course, the tiniest whisper is all I jolly well give when it’s time for the old nosebag. Not one to yell about scoff, never was!”
He caught sight of the pond with a loud whoop. “What ho! Fresh clean cool water, just the thing for a growin’ hare. Hope there’s some o’ those flippin’ tasty little water-shrimp whizzin’ about in there, wot wot?”
Scarum crouched in the shallows, making the most outrageous guzzling nois
es as he sucked up lakewater. He belched and wiggled both footpaws. “Capital stuff, water! Fills the old tum, drives away the drought, an’ cools off one’s weary paws. Not as tasty as strawberry fizz, but it’ll do at a pinch, eh wot!”
Glancing down at the shaded surface, he saw the reflections of Kurda, Vorto and Riggan standing behind him. Catching sight of a flashing sabre blade, Scarum went into quick action. Grabbing his window pole, he did a straightforward roll into the lake. Twisting about, he came up almost waist deep, facing them with his weapon at the ready.
“Bounders, what did your mothers tell you about sneakin’ up on a body, eh? Jolly bad form, if y’ask me!”
Kurda grinned out through clenched teeth. “Gedd ’im out, Vorto!”
The Ratguard waded in, thrusting with his spear. Scarum countered with his metal hooked window pole, landing Vorto a thwack on one ear which set his head ringing.
Kurda shoved Riggan forward. “Don’t shtand dere! ’Elp Vorto!”
Scarum knew he was in trouble. The only advantage he had was the water at his back. Vorto and Riggan moved apart, getting on either side and outflanking their quarry. The young hare swung his pole left and right, beating off the menace of the spears, which were shorter than his weapon. Kurda stood on the bank, waiting, knowing he could not keep his defence up for any length of time.
After a while Scarum began to flag. The pole fell lower until it was splashing the water at each stroke. Posturing, with the sabre point held forward, Kurda entered the lake, wading forward toward her victim. The hare thrust at her with his pole, leaving his sides momentarily unguarded. Riggan swung her spear powerfully, catching Scarum a hard blow to the back of his head and knocking him senseless. Kurda retreated swiftly from the lake, not liking having her footpaws wet. “I hope you haff not slayed ’im. Pull der rabbit ashore. He vill die bit by bit, yarr!”
Scarum’s skull throbbed remorselessly. He opened his eyes to find the earth had turned upside down. Riggan was squatting nearby, chewing on a half-ripe pear. She winked at the young hare. “Yore goin’ to wish I’d finished yer off in the lake!”
Craning his neck painfully upward, Scarum saw that he was bound by both footpaws, suspended from the limb of an alder tree. Riggan gave him a push, which set him swinging. “The rabbit’s awake now, marm!”
Kurda had been honing her blade on a stone. She came over and stood in front of her prisoner. Scarum decided that he had better mind his manners. “Er, good day to you, madam.”
The Pure Ferret clipped the top from a rush with an expert flick of the sabre. “I am not der madam, I am Queen Kurda of Riftgard. Nobeast in all der Nort’lands has mine skill mitt der sabre.”
Scarum tried a warm smile. “Pleased t’meet you, I’m sure, skilful with the old sabre, wot. Need lots o’ practice for that sort o’ thing, I’ll wager.”
Kurda brought the point to rest against Scarum’s nose. “Oh yarr, lots of practice, I alvays practice. Sometimes mitt turnips, but dat’s no fun. I like to practice mitt mine sabre on livink beasts.”
Scarum gulped. “Actually I come from a jolly long line of turnips—a dull bunch we are. Er, haha, you should see my old granny turnip, she’s really goin’ to seed this season!”
The sabre flicked sideways, shearing the whiskers from one side of Scarum’s face. Kurda narrowed her eyes. “First de whiskers, den de ears, von at a time. Ve haff all day to play diss liddle game, yarr?”
Scarum could see by the way Riggan and Vorto turned their faces away that his time had come. He dropped all pretences and snarled at his tormentor, “Then do your worst, you milk-furred scum, I’ll see you at Hellgates one day. Aye, and I won’t be helpless then!”
Scarum raised his voice and yelled out the old Salamandastron war cry, hoping to go out bravely. “Eualiiii-iaaaa! Blood’n’vinegar, chaps! Eulaliiiiiiaaaaa!”
Kurda’s sabre was upraised when suddenly there came a huge booming answer, which she knew was no echo.
“Eulaliiiiiaaaaaa! We’re coming! Eulaliiiiiiaaaaaa!”
Crashing through the shallows of the lakeshore, Sagax came thundering towards Kurda, swinging his massive battle-axe in one paw. On the bank alongside him, Log a Log and Triss ran their hardest to keep up with him.
Kurda screeched to Vorto and Riggan, “Shtop dem, quick!”
She had her back to Scarum. Swinging himself forward, he grabbed her around the back of her neck and hung on grimly. Riggan turned to run away, but Log a Log’s rapier, hurled like a javelin, stopped her for good.
Triss put on a turn of speed, shouting at Sagax as she passed him, “The white one’s mine!”
Vorto’s spear snapped like a twig as Sagax bulled him into the lake. The battle-axe cleaved midair, water, and the Ratguard Captain, all in one stroke.
Kurda was struggling wildly in Scarum’s grip as Triss went bounding by, leaping like an acrobat. Her sword sheared the rope from the alder branch, dropping Scarum onto Kurda. They both went down in a huddle, and the sabre was knocked from Kurda’s grasp. She reached for it, only to find a footpaw resting heavily on the blade. Scarum extricated himself and scrambled free.
Triss stepped away from the blade and stood over Kurda. The squirrelmaid’s voice shook with pent-up rage as she grated at her foe, “Remember me, Princess? I used to throw turnips up for you to practice on. I’m the escaped slave who stole your ship. Well, you’ve chased me across the great seas, and now you’ve found me. Pick up that sabre, stand and face me!”
It was the first time in her life Kurda had faced a creature that was armed and ready for her. The others had never been a problem. They were usually bound and helpless, and she had always been surrounded by Ratguards to protect her. A chill of fear ran through the Pure Ferret. Rising slowly, Kurda picked up her sabre. Triss circled her, the point of Martin’s sword weaving and flickering about her sworn enemy, taunting her.
“My father was Rocc Arrem, the greatest swordmaster in all the Northlands. He was slain by your family, with arrows, because they feared him. You slew his friend Drufo, who was old and weak. I watched you kill him. So now, let’s see what murdering one old creature and chopping lots of turnips has taught you, coward!”
Triss deliberately lowered her sword. Kurda tried a swift sabre slash at her opponent’s head. Like lightning Martin’s sword came into play, whipping through the basket-hilted sabreguard and flicking the weapon out of Kurda’s paw. Triss moved back a pace. “Pick it up and try again, turnip chopper!”
Kurda felt her paws shaking as she retrieved her sabre. This time Triss allowed her two thrusts before disarming her with a similar swift twist.
Log a Log murmured admiringly to Sagax, “Great seasons, I never saw anybeast that good with a blade!”
Kurda dived to grab back her sabre, panic-stricken. Triss slapped the flat of her blade across the Pure Ferret’s rump, admonishing her like a clumsy novice. “I never told you to pick it up again. Tell me, how does it feel, being treated like a slave?”
Triss contemptuously turned her back and walked away. Kurda’s anger at the way she was being treated overcame fear. She grabbed the heavy sabre with both paws and charged screeching at Triss’s unprotected back. The squirrelmaid skipped to one side as the sabrepoint buried itself in the earth. Triss whirled and struck the blade with all her might. It was a sturdy sabre, but no match for the great sword of Martin the Warrior. There followed a loud metallic clang as the sabre snapped in two halves.
Kurda stood shocked, staring at the broken weapon in her paws. Then she ran for her life. Triss sped after her, yelling, “You can run, but there’s nowhere you can hide, coward. I’ll get you!”
Kurda looked back as she ran full pelt, to see Triss hot on her trail. It was a fatal mistake. The Pure Ferret tripped on a protruding tree root and slammed down heavily on the lake bank. She was lying curled up and still when Triss reached her. Triss saw the broken sabre blade, which was still held tight in both of her enemy’s paws. Kurda had fallen onto the broken blade. She stared up at the squ
irrelmaid through dead eyes.
Sagax picked up the Crown of Sarengo from where it had fallen and gave it to Triss. “I think this belongs to you now.”
Bitter tears welled in the squirrelmaid’s eyes as she sat gazing at her slain foe. “She cheated me of my revenge!”
Log a Log gently removed the sword from her grasp. “No, she never, Trissy. You defeated ’er, fair’n’square!”
Grasping the shrew’s paw, Triss pulled herself upright. “But she killed herself by accident.”
Placing the sword back over Triss’s shoulder, the Guosim Chieftain shook his head firmly. “Wot would ye ’ave done if’n you caught up with ’er, eh? Made Kurda fight on wid a broken blade? No, matey, that’s not yore style. You couldn’t slay a beast in cold blood, ain’t that right, Sagax?”
“Aye, right, friend. Kurda lived and died like a coward: running away. Think about it, Triss, you wouldn’t allow yourself to dishonour Martin’s sword by using it to slay that gutless craven when she wasn’t properly armed. You aren’t a killer—there’s a lot more to you than that. Martin chose you for the creature you are, right?”
Triss tucked the crown into her belt. “Thank you for your kind words, Sagax—you are right!”
Log a Log threw a paw about her shoulders. “Of course ’e is. Come on, let’s go home, Trisscar Swordmaid.”
Scarum came hopping up, rubbing a bruised forehead. “I say, chaps, would somebeast mind cuttin’ this confounded rope off me footpaws? It’s tight as blazes!”
Sagax took a mighty swing with his battle-axe. “Eulaliiiaaa!”
The hare closed his eyes and winced as the axe chopped clean through the ropes that bound his footpaws together. He tossed the rope ends huffily into the lake. “Great big showoff, y’nearly left me pawless. Oh, an’ you, too, miss. Y’might have taken the trouble to cut a chap down properly. Leapin’ about an’ choppin’ with that sword. Just look at this bloomin’ wound on me bonce—I fell right on top of that vermin, she had a blinkin’ skull like a rock. Oh, woe is me, chaps, only half a flamin’ set o’ whiskers an’ my young good looks ruined by this enormous bump!”
Triss: A Novel of Redwall Page 34