Part 22 (1/2)
Matthias crouched, drawing his sword, as Jess Squirrel bounded up. ”Jess, they're some kind of treedimbers. Can't you do anything?”
”The little savages, they don't seem to have any language, just screaming and growling. There's hundreds of 'em, Matthias, and they mean to kill us.”
The warrior mouse swung his blade at one of the painted ones who had ventured too low.
''Worst thing we could do is to make a run for it. Besides, they've got Cheek. The shrews are holding them off with slingstones, but that won't last.”
Orlando thundered past them, roaring. He struck trees left and right with his axe, jarring the savage beasts out of the branches. Shrew daggers made short work of them, but for every painted one that fell it seemed there were ten to take its place. The air rang with the snapping of branches and the screams of the painted horde. Above it all, Cheek could be heard sobbing loudly, ”Help! Save me, Basil. Don't leave me. Heeeelp!”
The old hare was leaping and kicking out with his long dangerous limbs. Anybeast that got too dose was knocked out instantly.
”Chin up. Cheek old lad, I'm doin' me best!” he called encouragingly.
Amid the rain of javelins that hissed down and the stones that whizzed up into the pines, Jess Squirrel's teeth began to chatter madly. Her eyes grew red with battle light and she was far bigger than any of the strange attackers.
”Savages! Cannibals, tree freaks!” she shouted. ”Here, Matthias, there's only one way to settle this. I think I've spotted their leader, that little brute over there. Look at him screaming and dancing away tike a mad thing. He's sending another lot in against us. I'm sure, thafs the chief. Lend me your sword; there's only one thing this crazy tribe will understand.”
Grabbing the sword, Jess swung skilfully aloft. She was like a dusty red streak of lightning. Any foebeast standing in her way was hacked aside. The painted leader saw her coming. He screamed at the others and pointed to Jess, but she bulled her way through, scattering the painted attackers like ninepins. The leader hesitated a second to see if she had been brought down. That second's wait cost him dear.
As he launched himself off the bough, Jess landed next to him. She seized him by the tail and hauled him roughly back. Grasping him by the ears, Jess gave a strong heave and held him kicking and dangling. Then she swung the sword in a glittering arc, shouting, ”Redwall! Redwall!”
The savage chief, held fast by the ears with the great sword flas.h.i.+ng in front of his eyes, gave one loud piercing squeal.
Immediately all activity halted.
The small green and black painted beasts crowded the branches and packed the boughs, uncertain of what to do. One or two of the bolder ones began edging forward, until Jess swung the sword as if to strike. The captive leader gave a series of angry screams, so they fell back and remained still.
Basil paced up and down, using a broken lance as a swagger stick. ”Quick thinkin', Jess. That stopped the t.i.ttle devils. Y'deserve a mention in despatches for that, wot?”
Jess glared about her fiercely. ”It wouldn't do any good mentioning any tiling to this horde of hooligans. They don't have any recognizable language; screams and squeals are their only way of communication. How do we get out of this? If s like having a serpent by the tail.”
Basil turned to Matthias. ”She's right, y*know. We're caught in a bloomin' old standoff. The moment she lets that chap go we'll have the whole silly tribe down on our heads.”
Matthias had been thinking furiously. He whispered 232.
233.
to Log-a-Log before shouting up to Jess, ”See if you can make them understand that we want to trade their leader for Cheek. Leave the rest to me. I've got an idea and with a bit of luck it might work.”
Jess went into a series of mimes. She pointed at Cheek, then pointed to the ground. Holding the leader at paw's length, she let the sword hang loose by her side. The performance was repeated several times before the leader realized what she meant. Screeching and growling, he pointed at Cheek, then to himself.
”When they're both free, what then?” Orlando whispered to Matthias. ”We've broken the standoff but they won't let us walk unharmed through their territory.”
There was a clicking, scratching sound from the shrews surrounding Log-a-Log. Matthias watched anxiously until Log-a-Log winked at him. All was ready. Matthias took a deep breath.
”Stay dose together when we have to move. Try not to turn your backs on the painted tribe. Right, Jess, let their chief free. They're releasing Cheek.”
The young otter scrambled free of the rope and made a hasty decent. b.u.mping and tripping, he half tell, half climbed, out of the tree.
Jess gave the leader a slight push and vaulted neatly down, returning the sword to Matthias.
There was a pause as the maddened creatures bunched to attack.
”Logalogalogalog!”
The shrew leader leapt forward with a blazing pine-wood torch in either paw, grinning and showing his teeth. He made as if to touch the heavy pines that oozed resin all round him.
For the first time, the painted ones showed fear. They chattered and screeched wildly, bounding high into the trees at the sight of fire. Log-a-Log shook the torches in their direction.
”Haha! Desperate measures call for desperate remedies, my friends,” he called. ”You're frightened of the flames, aren't you? One move, and I'll burn your forest and you with it.”
Matthias, Orlando and Basil started the column marching south.
”Come on, Log-a-Log,” Matthias urged. ”I think they understand what we mean. Jabez, Cheek, get those extra torches from the Guosim and stay close to Log-a-Log. Don't let the fire go out.”
Backing and shuffling, they made their way southeast through the dark pinewoods, grateful for the light of the torches. Progress was slow. Matthias could not see the painted ones, but he knew they were in the trees above, following every step of the way.
Night had fallen by the time they had made their way out of the pines, to the sh.o.r.es of a great river. There was plenty of wood about at the forest edge, so Log-a-Log and his shrews made a huge bonfire, laying in a good supply of wood to last until dawn. The strange tribe of painted ones had retreated back into their pine forest, but Matthias took no chances. Sentries were posted. A meal was prepared, then they sat about on the bank, discussing the day's events, while deciding how to cross the river the next day.
Further south down the river, Mattimeo and his friends sat at the center of a huge log raft surrounded by slavers. Two thick ropes connected the ferry to the far sh.o.r.e.
Slagar watched them rise and dip in the waters. ”Your rats pull strong and well, Stonefleck. We will soon be across.”
The deadpan expression did not leave Stonefleck's face.
”I have more fighters at my command than leaves on the trees, fox. Look behind you, on the sh.o.r.e over there.
” Your pursuers have made it through the pinewoods.
They must be brave and resourceful. We will see just 234.
235.
how brave on the morrow. My army could do with a bit of fun.”
Slagar gazed into the darkened waters. ”That's if they make it across the river!”
The confines of Cavern Hole became oppressive to John Churchmouse, although his wife actually enjoyed the close community, chatting with Cornflower and looking after baby Rollo, preparing breakfast with the Brothers and Sisters. John slipped out quietly, his recording books and pens in a satchel over his shoulder. He slid past Constance, who was sleeping on the stairs, crossed Great Hall and installed himself on a corner window ledge. It was a peaceful little niche where he often sat to write and morning sunlight flooded in, warming his face.
John opened his recording book as he gazed out at a corner of the orchard, watching three magpies flap off heavily until they were out of his vision.
By the fur! Those cheeky birds had a nerve. Occupying the Abbey roofs.p.a.ces, and now filching supplies from the very orchard that the Redwallers tended so lovingly.
The mood for writing left John. He dosed the book and climbed down from the sill. Help would be needed in the kitchens.
There was a disturbance at the top of the stairs between Great Hall and Cavern Hole. John broke into a run, the satchel b.u.mping at his side. The crow they called Mangjz bowled him flat as he flapped off into the air towards the upper galleries.
Constance blundered into John and tripped. She sat up, shaking her paw at the bird.
”Sc.u.m, kidnapper, you filthy brute!” she shouted.