Part 17 (1/2)
Dandin was awake. He lay with his eyes closed as he interpreted. ”I think his name is Snidjer and he wants to know where we're from.”
Snidjer giggled. ”Heehee, smarteemouse dis'n-a smarteemouse!”
Durry was last to wake. He strained forward, trying to reach his head with bound paws. ”Gwaw! My poor skull. This shouldn't happen to a good young lad like me. I think it was that scent which knocked us out. Oh, nunky, help! Send those 'orrible beasts away!”
Snidjer and his tribe giggled as they danced around the tree in front of their victims. Dandin watched them closely, trying to figure out what sort of creatures they were under the barkcloth facewraps and body hangings of thick weed.
”Tarquin, who are they? Have you ever seen anything like them before?”
”I should jolly well hope not, old boy. What a dreadful load of idiots-can't even talk properly. Rosie'd have a word or two to say to 'em about their sad lack of elocution, believe me!”
Snidjer pranced up to Tarquin, waving a torch made of smoldering herbs under his nose. The hare was not well-pleased.
”Pooh, take it away, you rascal. It's that beastly scent again.”
Snidjer giggled. ”Sleepasleep, sleepasleep, yerrher-raherrherr!”
Mariel groaned aloud. ”So that was what the poem meant about my nose sending me to sleep. It's those smoldering herbs; they must be full of a sort of sleep drug. 'Buried ones will surely rise . . . ' Ha! I remember that bit. Just before I was knocked out by that smell, I 190.
dimly remember seeing those creatures coming out of the ground, though how they did it I don't know. Wh-where's my Gullwhacker? Oh, I wish my head would stop aching.”
Snidjer wriggled with delight, the loose weeds quivering all over him. ”Wannasee how we do it, clever-mouse? Wannasee 'ey? D'Flitchaye cleverer than you a bigbit, yousee.”
The weird creature stamped his paw several times upon the ground. Mariel watched, her eyes wide with amazement. All around the earth, clumps of weed and gra.s.s lifted like rough lids as more of the peculiar creatures came out of hiding from their subterranean pits. In a short time the area was thick with bark-masked, weed-clad beasts. They shuffled about, chanting in their high-pitched voices: ”We d'Flitchaye Flitchaye Flitchaye!”
Dandin struggled against his bonds as he roared aloud, ”Hey, come away from that stuff. It's ours!”
Snidjer was waving Martin's sword about as his tribe emptied the contents of the travelers' packs onto the ground, fighting and grabbing for the food and drink. One of them swung Gullwhacker close to Dandin's head.
”Nahh sh'rup, you'n's Flitchaye pris'ners!”
Tarquin gulped against the rope that circled his neck. ” 'S'no use, old lad. Stiff upper lip an' ignore the blighters-we're outnumbered at least ten to one. I say, what's the next bit of the jolly old rhyme? Maybe that'll help us, wot?”
Dandin promptly reeled off the required stanza.
”Beat the hollow oak and shout, 'We are the creatures of Redwall!' If a brave one is about, he'll save any fool at all.
That's it as best as I recall. Let's look about for this hollow oak to beat, then we can start shouting.”
191.
Durry blinked painfully as he tried to focus his eyes. ”Phwaw! I'm lookin', though outside o' this clearin' I can't see nothin' but trees. My ol' nuncle Gabe'd say it were like lookin' fer timber in a woodland.”
By now the supplies had either been eaten or squashed into the ground, though one or two of the creatures were still squabbling over flasks of cider and cordial. Snidjer swung the sword at an overhanging bough. He missed and landed himself flat upon his back. The Flitchaye chief lay sn.i.g.g.e.ring as three smaller ones thrummed roughly away at Tarquin's beloved har-olina. The hare fought against his tight bonds, crying out against the outrage.
”I say, put that instrument down! You're an absolute bunch of yahoos, d'ye hear me? Yahoos and hooligans!”
Concealing her voice beneath the surrounding hubbub, Mariel whispered to Dandin, ”I'm working my paws loose. It shouldn't take long. The moment I'm free we'll have to see if we can grab our weapons and hold this lot off until we find the hollow oak.”
”Hollow oak, old gel,” Tarquin chuckled. ”No need to look any further, we're tied to the bally thing!”
Durry groaned aloud. ”An' I could've saved my poor eyes all that lookin' an' searchin'. 'T'aint fair.”
Dandin glanced upward. ”Hmm, so we are,” he whispered back. ”Right, when Mariel's loose we'll untie each other quietly. If we can reach our weapons, all well and good; if we can't, then the best plan would be to surround Tarquin and keep him protected while he beats the oak. Those long legs of yours should come in very handy for that, Tarquin. Er, Durry, what is it that we all have to shout out?”
”We are creatures of Redwall, good an' loud!”
Snidjer and the Flitchaye who was holding Gullwhacker hurried across to the prisoners. Snidjer carried the sword and some smoldering herbs. He glanced at them suspiciously.
192.
”Worrayou talkabout, 'ey?”
Tarquin sniffed. ”Actually, old bean, we were just remarking on what a vile smelly load of old forest weeds you bods are.”
Snidjer's eyes glinted angrily and he waved the smoking herbs under Tarquin's nose. ”You sh'rup, y'hear, sh'rup or Flitchaye send you sleepasleep s'more.”
The hare coughed violently, his eyes watering as the Flitchaye chief held the reeking herbs closer. Suddenly Tarquin shot out both his long legs. Bound together as they were, the powerful limbs caught Snidjer a mighty kick that sent him head over heels.
Mariel freed her paws and unknotted the rope that held them to the oak and unbound Dandin's paws. With their backs to the dead oak the four companions faced the howling mob of Flitchaye creatures. Mariel tugged Durry's paws loose as Dandin untied Tarquin. Snidjer leaped up, quivering with fury as he waved the sword menacingly.
”Hawhaw y'done it now, cleverbeasts. D'Flitchaye killyer now, killyer good 'n' dead. Gerrem, Flitchaye, gerrem!”
Again the mousemaid remembered attacking Gabool with the sword when her life was threatened. This time it was not only her, but also three good friends who were in danger of being slain.
Mariel felt the old Storm rise within her. Grabbing the ropes that had bound them, she knotted the ends and pa.s.sed them to Dandin and Durry.
”These will have to do as Gullwhackers. Get thumping, Tarquin!”
The hare needed no second bidding. He pounded his long hindlegs against the hollow trunk, raising his voice to join the others: ”We are creatures of Redwall! We are creatures of Redwaaaaalll!”
The first wave of the Flitchaye mob struck them, 193.
armed with sticks and small daggers. Mariel and her comrades thwacked away at them with their knotted ropes for all they were worth. Most of the Flitchaye were repulsed, some knocked senseless, whilst others, half-conscious, clung onto the bodies of their attackers.
Snidjer stayed well back, swinging the sword as he urged a fresh wave of attackers to the fray. ”Gerremall, Flitchaye. Grabbem, holdem-I cut'm up wid dis sworder!”
Durry Quill went down, felled by a heavy blow. Dandin and Mariel stood shoulder to shoulder, swinging their knotted ropes. Tarquin lay on his back, pounding the oak with his hindpaws while he lashed out at the enemy with his front paws, joining voice with his companions: ”We are creatures of Redwall! We are creatures of Redwaaaaalll!”
They were struggling against the odds, more so when Snidjer gathered a fresh batch of Flitchaye about him and headed the charge at his weakened opponents.
”D'cleverbeasts fallin' now. Gerrem, Flitchaye!”
Mariel and Dandin went down beneath the ma.s.ses of weedclad bodies, still shouting as they were submerged beneath the Flitchaye mob: ”We are creatures of Redwaaaalll!”
Thick white fog enveloped both sea and sh.o.r.e as if the very clouds had dropped out of the sky. Sound was muted and nowhere was there vision or sight for more than a paw's length. Rawnblade Widestripe chuckled grimly to himself as he donned the long spiked helmet he always wore with his battle armor. Salamandastron was deserted; he had sent out all his hares to patrol on one pretext or another, some to the south, others to the east. The great badger Lord pulled down the helmet visor, focusing happily through the twin slits. Rawn-blade's eyes should have been tired, but they were not. He had lain awake most of the night, listening to the 194.
m.u.f.fled silence fog brought in its wake, restless, turning. Rawnblade had finally left his beloved mountain to stroll on the tideline along the sh.o.r.e by Salamandastron.
That was when he had heard it.