Chapter 5
Within the next few minutes the impromptu scouting group had assembled. Skipper of Otters and some of his crew had volunteered themselves, as well as a tall, rough-looking otter called Rufus Rillflag, the Gatekeeper, who fell in with Skipper's holt; with them were a few young adventurous mice and moles, and Lingen Reguba and Leslie, who had been able to go under strong persuasion to Friar Gringle from Brother Lucas and Mother Brilla. The Badger Mother addressed the score of volunteers before they left the Abbey.
"I hope you all realize what the key here is going to be: stealth. In order to be good scouts you must see and not be seen, find and not be found. This is a horde of all sorts of vermin from who knows where, and our purpose at all times is not only to locate this horde, but also to do it without being spotted ourselves. Now, when I give the signal, you will all follow-- hold it, where do you think you're going, young Grubo?"
"Yurr, oi'm wanten t'come too, 'elp catchen ee vermints, hurr aye!" The young mole was armed with a fire poker, trying hard to look mean and menacing. Sister Polly, however, would not hear of it.
"Give me that poker, little Grubo, you're going to poke somebeast's eye out!" she said, carrying the protesting mole off to the Abbey building.
"Burr, oi's usen et t'fight ee vermin, an' oi not be likkle!"
As the scouting party broke into tucks of laughter, Mother Brilla tried hard to keep her composure by authorizing a forward march. "On command, all follow me. Ready, let's go!"
Foremole and his mole crew were at the moment digging a roasting pit. They nearly fell into the pit at the sound of the scouting group calling out as they left the time-honored cry of Redwall Abbey.
"Redwaaaaall!"
Foremole lifted his head out of the roasting pit and tapped a digging claw to his snout. "Hurr, they'm be ee gurt noisy beasts, burr aye!"
It was little more than an hour after noon when Skarliff Krigg retired to his hut after a meager lunch. Drigsno and another weasel had been posted to guard the door to Skarliff's headquarters. The rest of the horde lay about the camp idly after lunch, sleeping lightly lest they be caught dozing by their Warlord.
All of them, that is, except two.
Longtooth the rat captain and his weasel charge Knobear consorted with each other in low voices at the edge of the camp, near the hedgehog prisoner Stikle Furgin they had been ordered to watch. But instead of watching the inert prisoner, who apparently was feeling the same effects from the afternoon sun that most of the horde was feeling, the two comrades were watching only one thing: Skarliff's head captain Durg. Longtooth had disliked the stoat captain since he had been promoted to the lofty position two seasons earlier, and the rat confided his thoughts to the onlybeast in the horde he felt he could trust.
"I tells yer, Knobear, that stoat's been lordin' it over me'n th'orde e'er since 'e got t'be 'ead cap'n. 'E only got that bloody p'sition 'cuz 'e wus all'ays tryin' to impress th' cap'n, yessir, no sir, er, three o' them bags full, sir! I'm sick of it, mate, that's wot I am, sick. If anybeast should be second in charge to ol' Krigg, it should be me! 'Course, yew'd be me right 'and, so ye would, mate."
The weasel nodded his head in agreement. "Aye, if ever there wos a good cap'n, that wos yew, cap'n. Why, yore likely t'be leader of this 'tire horde afore long!"
"Hmm, leader o' th'orde, I likes that. Longtooth th' Warlord, 'as a good ring to it, don't y'think?"
That same afternoon three foxes and a full-grown hedgehog were gathered a stonethrow away from the vermin camp. Whispering quietly, they went over their rescue plan once more.
"I wish we could wait until night t'do this, Wolfbane m'fox, it'd be easier t'stay hidden."
"No, we can't. I heard some of the vermin talking, and I can't even tell you what they've got planned for your Stikle come nightfall. We've got to get him out of that camp now. Now Shadowfeather, Fairgrass, be sure that you have Stikle untied as soon as possible so we can get away quickly and unnoticed. Dangur and I will cover you in case anything goes wrong. Right?"
"Right."
"Dangur, you'll be sure to keep that sling of yours handy if necessary."
"Aye, m'fox. Many a vermin's met their fate from the second-best slinger in Mossflower Wood, my eldest son besidin'. See y'when it's over?"
"I hope so, friend."
Within the next minute or so, their meeting place was empty and undisturbed once more.
Stikle Furgin silently struggled with his bonds at the fir tree; Longtooth and Knobear had finally drifted off slightly, as Knobear's snores indicated. He tried desperately to slip his right paw out of the jumbled mess of knots, but it wouldn't move.
Suddenly Stikle felt a paw stay his movement and heard a voice say, "Shh. Hold still. We are friends." Startled but obedient the hedgehog held still while a knife stolidly cut through his bonds.
Skarliff Krigg was waiting in his headquarters for his head captain Durg. The large ferret was soon rewarded by a knock on the door. "Come in, come in. Enter, my captain." As the door to the hut swung open the head of the stoat captain peeked in pensively.
"Y'wanted t'see me, cap'n?"
"Yes, yes, come in." Skarliff motioned towards a small thatched chair, the same chair Stikle Furgin had set in. Durg silently seated himself, awaiting whatever his Warlord had to say. As usual, he did not have to wait long.
"Durg, my captain, I do not have to question your loyalty to me?"
"You know that I 'ave always served you an' no other, mightiness."
"Good, good. I have heard, however, that several of my horde are plotting a scheme of some sort, either against myself or one of my captains. Don't look puzzled, Durg, whoever it is, they wouldn't tell you; you're my head captain. But Drigsno, although the inside of his head may be somewhat lacking, he does possess two ears to hear-- and a mouth to talk. Now as my right claw, I would like for you to find out by your own methods who is behind this conspiracy and deliver their names to me. Understood?"
"Yes, mightiness. I've ne'er failed you afore an' I don't atten' t'start now."
"I should hope so, Durg, or I would have to go and find myself a new head captain. You are dismissed." The ferret Warlord watched his captain exit the hut, tapping his claws on the side of the chair as his crafty mind worked through his own plans.
Fairgrass had just finished cutting through the ropes tied around Stikle Furgin's paws. Carefully, she and Shadowfeather helped the hedgehog onto his feet. Fairgrass, who had had no experience with hedgehogs before, grabbed him wrong and came up with half a pawful of quills. Before she could stop herself a small cry of pain escaped her mouth.
Immediately, as if set off by some silent trigger, a weasel who had heard the small noise shot up and looked at the small rescue group. "Who're yew?" he asked sleepily. "What're yew doin' wid'--" Now he was wide awake. " 'Ey, they're takin' th'prisoner! Escape! Escaaa--" Wolfbane, who was behind the two rescuers with bow and arrow in paw, turned swiftly and silenced the weasel. But it was too late.
The vermin camp sprang to life. Fourscore or more of assorted vermin, rats, weasels, stoats, and ferrets of all kinds roused themselves quickly and reached for their weapons, while amid it all a stoat slightly larger than the rest, Durg, shouted, "Get 'em! Stir yer paws, there's only five o' them! Kill the intruders, but keep th'prisoner alive, Skarliff Krigg ain't done wid'em yet!"
Danger Furgin and Wolfbane placed themselves in between the coming hordebeasts and Shadowfeather and Fairgrass, who were still helping Stikle get up and rub some life into his sore limbs. Soon, however, the vermin were too close and the two fighters, as well as the vixen Shadowfeather, could no longer hold them off and had to fight. Dangur was slinging his largest stones furiously at the oncoming vermin, who were unable to get near the large hedgehog. Wolfbane had left off his bow to fighting hand-to-hand with a broken spear. As his eyes began to glow savagely with the light of battle, the fox yelled out, "Fairgrass! Get the young 'un out of here! Quickly!" The young Silvercoat was not about to argue with her elder, as at the moment he did not look like he would tolerate any disobedience. Quick being the word, Fairgrass left the camp with Stikle in her tow, leaving behind two full-grown foxes and a double-slinged hedgehog fighting a horde of vermin tooth and claw to allow them to escape.
The Redwall scouting party had been marching and scouting for over an hour. Brilla was in the lead, followed by Skipper of Otters, Lingen Reguba, and Leslie the mousemaid. Behind them was about a dozen of Skipper's otter crew, with a rear guard of the stragglers, the brave young mice and moles of Redwall. The latter of the group, less tenacious and beginning to weary, had begun talking about the feast that awaited them upon their return to Redwall, which did not help their situation in the least. Benno, Friar Gringle's young assistant who had evaded helping with feast preparations by volunteering himself for the scouting party, was in particular wondering about the feast's progressing.
"The cooking for the jubilee feast must be almost done by now, wouldn't y'say?"
"Mmm, they've probably got those tasty pasties out on th'ledge to cool, ready for th'takin', eh Siltburr?"
The young mole nodded his velvety head in agreement. "Ho aye, th'Froir'd give us'ns wot 'o with 'is rollin' pin, but et'n be's wurth et. Oi durrly do luvvs ee parsties!"
Mother Brilla, trying to cap the laughter which threatened to leave her lips, muttered to Skipper out of the side of her mouth. "Listen to those little Dibbuns will you, they've not been out here for more than an hour, and they're already talkin' about food like they had survived a ten-season famine. And pasty pinching too, the thieving rascals!"
At the back of the otter crew a burly otter who went by the name of Fallam turned on the reminiscing young Abbeydwellers. "Listen up mateys, if'n any o' youse mentions food once more when there's none t'be 'ad, I'll give yer 'wot 'o' meself, an' not wid' no rollin' pin, see?" Immediately they fell silent.
Suddenly the large Badger Mother in front halted the troupe with a wave of her paw. Something was up. "Shh! Listen! Do you hear something?"
After a few seconds passed Skipper was able to make something out. "Aye, I hears it, somebeasts comin' this way, mebbe two o' them I'd say."
The otter leader's guess proved correct. A hedgehog emerged from the woods in front of them, with a fox in his wake. At the sight of the fox, paws strayed to blades and weapons were drawn. But Leslie saw something different in her eyes and somehow felt a kind of kinship with the vixen, who was roughly her age. The young mouse immediately set herself between her friends and the strangers.
"Put away your weapons, all of you, can't you see that they're alone and don't mean any harm? What is your name, young one?"
"Fairgrass, of the Skulk of the Silvercoats, and he is called Stikle Furgin." The young vixen, Leslie noticed, was close to tears and about to break down.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"They're back there, three of them, just three-- oh, they're going to get killed, I know it! They told us to leave, and now they're--" The vixen broke down sobbing.
As Leslie tried to console the fox Lingen asked the hedgehog with her, "What's she saying? What's going on?"
Stikle's lip trembled slightly but he tried to stay brave as he filled them all in. "My father, Dangur Furgin, an' two foxes I've ne'er met rescued me from a horde o' vermin nor'east o' here, but we were caught and they're fightin' the 'tire horde-- just three o' them-- to buy time for us t'scape..."
Mother Brilla had heard enough. "Hear that, troupe, somebeast's in trouble," the badger's voice rang out over the group of volunteers. "Nobeast can take on a horde of vermin by themselves, they need out help. Leslie, you stay here and see to these two. The rest of you, follow me, double march! For Redwall!"
"For Redwaaaall!"
The fighting at the camp had gotten very fierce. What should have been a massacre was, although undoubtedly one-sided, far from it. Wolfbane was wounded twice on the shoulder but fought on wildly, stabbing out with his spear and slashing dangerously with a cutlass he had taken from one of the vermin. His sister Shadowfeather was none the worse from the inevitable of battle, having taken a javelin in the leg and now fighting with the very same weapon. Dangur Furgin the hedgehog slinger thwacked out for keeps at the vermin, oblivious to the several wounds about him.
Wolfbane had just taken a jab in the ear and speared the rat that had done it when a short ferret not two feet away raised his spear at the fox, grinning evilly before he drew it back to throw it. Suddenly a fair-sized red squirrel, not any older than the dark battle-crazed fox, dropped out of the trees above like a bolt of red lightning. The squirrel, who was dressed in a dark green vest and a dagger belt, set upon the ferret equally viciously, slaying him with a thrust of one dagger while in the same movement stabbing backwards with his other dagger at a rat who was behind him. Wolfbane recognized him immediately. "Temmlock! Temmlock Trapella, where did you come from?"
The squirrel commented to Wolfbane dryly as he kicked two weasels in the face and stabbed another with his dagger. "The tree up yon. Di'n't y'see me?"
"Well you certainly picked a good time to show up," the fox conversed with his friend as they fought side by side.
"I'll say I did. Nice day t'die, eh?"
"Ah, well, I don't know about that; I don't think I had that on my agenda for t'day."
"Well y'could try telling it t'these blaggards, although I don't know th't they're 'telligent enough t'unnerstand. Ah! Gotcha, y'mangy flapplesnout! I say, he nearly had me there!"