Part 30 (1/2)

Rawnblade pointed a stern paw to the topmast. ”Up, Woodsorrel, up!”

Tarquin spat on his paws but made a last-ditch plea to a pa.s.sing gull. ”I say, birdie old bean, just furl a jolly old sail or two as you're pa.s.sin', there's a good chap.”

The sea gull flew heedlessly on. Rawnblade stood with his hefty paw still pointed into the rigging. ”Up!”

Tarquin nervously scaled the mast, calling out to the sea gull, who had decided to hover overhead and view the performance.

”Yah rotten ol' featherbag, bet your mum was a cuckoo. Oh golly, if Hon Rosie could see me now she'd split her fur laughin'.”

318.

34.

At that precise moment Hon Rosie had never been more serious in her life. She stood in a small wooded area, just out of sight of the searat camp. With her were Clary, Thyme, Rufe Brush, Oak Tom and the pretty squirrel Treerose. The hares were armed to the teeth- lances, bows, arrows and a dagger apiece. Clary was talking to the squirrels.

”Now you know the drill, chaps. As soon as I shout out t' you then you come runnin', get the slaves away pretty darn quick an' head north, take a loop south an' straight back to the Abbey. I've left that big otter chappie Flagg a note-he'll know what t' do. Don't forget now-whatever happens, keep the bally slaves goin' full speed an' get 'em back to Redwall posthaste, wot!”

Rufe Brush clapped Clary on the back. ”Got it. Keep the slaves goin' till we're safe back home, right? But what about you three?”

Thyme tested his bowstring. ”Don't worry about us, laddie buck. We'll be right as rain, won't we, Rosie?”

”What, oh er, rather! Get the little thingummies back to the wotsit and leave the rest to us. Tickety-boo an' all that!”

Clary glanced at the noon sky. ”Time to go, troops!”

Rufe, Tom and Treerose shook paws with the three 319.

hares. Clary sent them off. ”Get round the back of the camp an' wait for my signal.”

”Righto. Goodbye an' good luck, Thyme.”

”Toodle-pip, old scout. Chin up.”

Treerose waved. ”Goodbye, Rosie. See you back at the Abbey.”

Rosie nodded. ”'Course you will, pretty one. On your way now,”

When the squirrels had gone, Colonel Clary inspected his patrol.

”Very smart, top marks, good turnout, wot!”

Thyme brushed his moustache one last time. ”No excuse for sloppiness, my old pa always said.”

They nocked shafts onto their bowstrings and strode off toward the searat camp, talking softly to each other.

”Make me proud of you now, troops.”

”Goes without sayin', Clary. We'll give Rawnblade somethin' to talk about while we're at it, wot!”

”I say, Clary. Is it all right if I laugh 'n' hoot a bit once the show gets under way?”

”Permission granted, Rosie old gel. You chuckle as much as y'like.”

The searats were milling about the fires, shoving and pus.h.i.+ng as they tried to get cooking s.p.a.ce. There had been no fish or meat taken, as a result of Oak Tom's activities in the area. However, they had found a good supply of wild pears and apples, and plentiful dandelion roots. Now they cooked the fruits, telling each other that there would be good hunting tomorrow when the birds and fish returned.

The oarslaves sat miserably in their long wooden cage. It was exceptionally strong, being made from thick green branches lashed together with rope. The young creatures gazed longingly out at their captors, knowing the only food they would receive was the waste and sc.r.a.ps after the rats had glutted themselves.

Pakatugg pushed his face against the wooden bars.

320.

He had grown thin and gaunt in captivity, suffering the kicks and curses of searats. He bitterly regretted tracking the Darkqueen in quest of plunder. Now he sat staring through his prison at the woodlands beyond, thinking of his secret den far away, the cool green light from the shading trees, the mossy rocks and trickling stream . . .

Quite suddenly Pakatugg saw the three hares of the long patrol! They were striding grim-faced through the searat camp, making for the captives in the cage, fully armed with lance and dagger, each with a shaft drawn tautly on a longbow. The squirrel watched them silently, his eyes wide with disbelief. The hares ignored the noisy crew of searats as they marched purposefully forward.

The rat called Fleawirt was first to see them as he turned from the fire. ”Hey! Where d'yer think yer go - ”

Wordlessly Thyme turned and slew him, the heavy oak arrow knocking the startled searat back fully three paces. Pandemonium broke out. Before the rats could grasp what was going on, another two fell, pierced by shafts from Clary and Rosie. As swiftly as they loosed the arrows, the long patrol had fresh ones stretched upon their bowstrings.

”Get them!” Greypatch bellowed, drawing his sword. ”Don't just stand there, kill 'em!”

Shaking the numbness of surprise from him, one called Sh.o.r.eclaw plucked his spear from the ground and raised it. He was so close that Clary's arrow pa.s.sed through him and wounded another standing behind. Rosie dodged a spear as the trio quickened their pace. She sent her arrow zinging into the snarling face of Kybo, cutting off the scream that issued from his mouth. Now the hares sent out the blood-chilling war cry of Salamandastron; it rang out above the clamor.

”Eulaliaaaaaaa!!!”

They arrived at the cage, still sending arrows from 321.

the formidable longbows thudding into the horde of advancing foe rats.

Pakatugg shoved his paw through the bars. ”Give me a dagger and I'll cut the ropes!”

Clary tossed him a freshly sharpened knife from Redwall's kitchen. ”What ho, you old villain! Chop away at the back of the cage, would you.”

A spear took Thyme in the right footpaw. Gritting his teeth, he wrenched it out and hurled it back, wounding its thrower. ”Ah well, no more runnin' for me today, wot?”

Rosie stopped a charging rat with her lancepoint. ”Hate to remind you, old thing, but we didn't come here to run.”

Clary whacked out fiercely, breaking a leg with the heavy yew bow. ”Famous last stand, wot? Go out in a blaze of glory an' all that. Right, chaps. Another quick volley, an' give 'em a shout t' let 'em know we've arrived. Fire!”

Three arrows flew from the longbows into the seething rat pack.

”Eulaliaaaa!!!”

Pakatugg slashed frenziedly at the remaining rope las.h.i.+ngs in the back of the cage. The bindings parted and a section of the woodwork fell away. The oarslaves huddled dumbly in a group. He pushed through them, tugging at the back of Clary's belt through the front bars.

”I've done it, part of the back's fallen down!”

Colonel Clary winced as an arrow took him in the shoulder. ”Wait'11 the squirrels arrive, old thing, then follow 'em. Take all the slaves an' stick close to them, no matter what.”

Clary threw back his head and yelled, ”Rufe, Tom, Treerose! Now now now!”