THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Forty
The sun had nearly set by the time Urthblood's army and the Guosim reached the banks of the river to their south. The forest opened up considerably as they neared the wide, swift-running watercourse. After such long travel beneath the gloom of the dense forest canopy, it was a joy to once more see patches of open sky and bright sunlight. The stream before them now was nearly twice as broad as the one spanned by Lorr's Bridge, and looked as if it could support considerable boating traffic. The wide banks along the shore provided plenty of room for the twin armies to set up camp for the night.
"I still don't get it," Log-a-Log said. "What would searats be doin' this far inland?"
Winokur gazed at the broadstream. "The river looks almost big enough to float a pirate dreadnought. Maybe they sailed in from the sea?"
Log-a-Log scanned the river upstream and down. "I don't see no pirate ships. Besides, nothing that big could travel this far into the woods without attractin' a whole lotta attention from the beasts who live along the shores."
"Aw, that badger don't know nuthin!" Snoga snorted, after checking first to make sure Urthblood wasn't within hearing. "I know these waters to the west, an' there's spots where they get narrow 'n' deep, with branches hangin' low overhead. Any tall ship would snag its sails an' catch its masts long afore it reached these parts."
"Then how do you explain that sword?" Log-a-Log demanded of his troublesome fellow shrew, pointing at the weapon Snoga had stolen from the dead fox.
Snoga clutched the sword closer to him, as if fearful that somebeast would try to take it away from him. "What of it? He says it's a searat sword, but how would he know, huh? We can only take his word for it. I sez he's makin' the whole thing up, jus' to impress us an' frighten us an' get us t' do what he tells us! He said he'd have yer whelp back by now, but I don't see any o' them foxes we been chasin' after. Prob'ly heard us comin' a mile away, an' made it across this river on boats they had waitin' for 'em."
"Perhaps they did," rolled out a deep voice from behind.
Snoga jumped fully half his height in surprise. He didn't count upon anybeast so large as Urthblood being able to sneak up on him so quietly.
"But I doubt it," the Badger Lord went on. "Foxes are not overly fond of water craft. More likely, they did hear us coming, as Snoga said, and fled away to one side of us or another, along the riverbank."
"So, you admit it yerself!" Snoga spat. "We lost 'em, thanks to you!"
"It is not the foxes which concern me," said Urthblood. "They had enough of a lead over us that they would have had plenty of time to pass off their prisoners to the beasts waiting to meet them."
"What beasts?" mocked Snoga. "Your invisible searats? It makes no sense!"
"No?" Urthblood looked around at the others. "Are we agreed that these slavers were foxes, and that they were heading south?"
Everybeast, even Snoga, nodded in agreement. "We knew from reports they was foxes even afore Snoga slew one of 'em," Log-a-Log said. "An' their tracks showed they was makin' in this direction."
"Well, then. Do foxes generally keep slaves themselves?"
"They might," Snoga said quickly, sensing where Urthblood was going with this. "If they had a castle or fort o' their own ... "
"I am widely traveled, and I have heard of no such place," said Urthblood. "But foxes are far more likely to be collecting slaves for profit, or at the behest of some other master."
"Aye," piped in Log-a-Log, "they usually steal youngbeasts and helpless creatures for other evil ones who need slaves."
"So, if these foxes you were chasing were not going to keep your loved ones for themselves, to whom were they delivering these slaves? We know they were heading south, and here we are, as far south as they could go without a boat or bridge. We know they were taking the slaves somewhere, and no doubt counted upon being rewarded for their prize. Searats use many slaves in their rowing galleys, and we found a searat sword on the slain fox. Far from making no sense, Snoga, it seems to me most obvious what is happening here. The searats have employed these foxes to capture slaves for them, and are paying the slavers in weaponry."
"Bah!" Snoga scoffed. "Even if all you say's true, where does it get us? Look around. No searats, no foxes, no slaves. If they were ever here t'all, they're gone now. Back out to the sea, no doubt, in those phantom ships o' yers that never coulda got here in th' first place!"
Urthblood refused to be goaded by Snoga's scorn. "If they could not have gotten here in one of their tall ships, they must be using something else."
"Yes indeed, something else, something else!"
Everybeast turned to behold a strange bankvole who had crept up and joined their company with a stealth that would have done Urthblood proud. The vole wore a long overcoat that came down past his knees, and his fur was unruly and unkempt, sticking out in all directions as if he'd just rolled out of bed. The gleam in his eye was just slightly maniacal.
"Yes, yes," the vole went on in a rapidfire fashion, enthusiastically rubbing his paws together, "something different. Perhaps a single vessel big enough to carry a full crew of rats as well as a load of slaves, yes, but with masts that can be easily and quickly lowered to allow passage beneath low-hanging branches. Or some manner of barge, which rides low in the water but can hold many beasts. Or some new type of craft, unlike any we are familiar with. Yes, yes, it could be done, oh yes indeed it could ... "
"Oh, why don'tcha crawl back under th' rock where you came from, ya loon?" Snoga said derisively.
Urthblood asked the two shrews, "Do you know this beast?"
"Aye, that we do." Log-a-Log addressed the vole. "I was startin' to worry 'bout you, Lorr. Where've you been hidin'?"
"Ducked up into the trees when the fightin' began back there. You know I don't go for that kind of thing, no I don't, no, not at all."
Urthblood regarded the vole with much renewed interest. "You are Lorr? The same one whose bridge we crossed to the north?"
The eccentric bankvole flashed a wide grin. "One in the same, sir, one in the same! You know my work? Guess you must, that army of yours wouldn't be here otherwise. Always said that bridge would support an army crossin' it, now it's been proved, o yes it has!"
Log-a-Log made a more formal introduction. "Lord Urthblood, meet Lorr the Tinker. Never met a beast who was better with his paws, or his mind when it come to envisionin' things. He designed that bridge you crossed, all in his head without drawing any plans or anything. We met him this past spring, an' he positively badgered us - no pun intended - until we helped him build it. Only took a few days, if'n you can believe it. That's how fully worked out t'was in his mind."
Lorr stepped forward to stand before Urthblood. He licked his paw and slicked back his headfur into some slight semblance of orderliness; it held for half a heartbeat before springing back into its former disheveled state. "Pleased to meet you, never met a Badger Lord before, from Salamandastron or anywhere else for that matter. Lorr the Tinkerer, at your service, M'Lord!"
He stuck out his licked paw for Urthblood to shake; the badger satisfied himself with a nod toward Lorr, keeping his own paw to himself. "The pleasure is mine, to meet a beast with your unique talents. Tell me, Lorr, since you were obviously listening in on our conversation, do you have any ideas of your own on what we were just discussing?"
"Searats, you mean?" Lorr shrugged. "Never met one, and wouldn't care if I never do. Heard about them, that's enough for me. Afraid I'm not enough of an authority on them to say one way or the other whether this nasty affair is their work. Try not to talk when I don't know what I'm talking about, saves me a lot of trouble that way."
"More beasts could learn from your example," Urthblood said, glancing at Snoga. "I am certain that searats are behind this. And if those slaver foxes were headed for this spot, then their searat accomplices cannot be far from here."
"But, where?" Log-a-Log asked. "This is my son we are talking about. You gave me cause fer hope when you said we might be able to retrieve him today, or on the morrow. But if he's on his way out to sea, we'll never catch 'em. Is all hope lost, or am I missin' something here?"
"Here is what we shall do," Urthblood announced to the beasts around him. "First, while we are setting up camp for the night here, I will send out some of my fastest troops as scouts, to spy out this riverbank both upstream and down, as far as they can while the daylight holds. If there are any large craft close at paw, they will be found. If this fails, I have another scout who can cover distances that even a hare could not. My Captain Halpryn is a kite, and she has been spying out the lands for me during this march. Now that we are out from under the dense cover of the woods, I will be able to signal her. She can follow this stream, all the way to the sea if need be, to search for any sign of what we seek. If it is there to be found, she will find it."
Snoga turned away. "Marchers on foot wouldn't be able to catch up with a boat, even if there is one. This is foolishness, top to bottom. You'll see. When this business is done, the only slaver we'll have found is the one I already slew, you see if it ain't. C'mon, shrews," he said to his followers, "let's take no more part in this stupidity. We'll set up our own camp over there, an' let these idiots have to themselves." Snoga led his group of about a score and a half away upstream, away from the rest of the Guosim and Urthblood's forces.
As before, Urthblood remained wholly unmoved by Snoga's criticism. Instead, he strode over to his ranks to begin the task of picking fast runners for the scouting teams.
Log-a-Log, however, looked after his departing shrew adversary with a mix of anger and sick worry. "What if he's right, Wink?"
The young otter patted his companion reassuringly on the shoulder. "Him? Beasts that rude aren't usually right about very much at all, in my experience."
Log-a-Log was not fully convinced. "Yes, that's what I keep tellin' myself. He's usually wrong about things, an' I delight in his folly every time. But if ever there was a time when he could be right, Wink lad, I pray that this ain't it!"
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Two scouting parties were organized. Captain Mattoon, who was fast for a weasel, was chosen to head the team that would inspect the upstream banks, while Captain Saybrook would lead the downriver party. The rest of the scouts were an assortment of ferrets, stoats and otters ... all among the more long-legged creatures in Urthblood's service, and all of whom had proven their swiftness under battle conditions many times before. Each team also included at least two experienced trackers. If there were any telltale signs of the fox slavers in the vicinity, they would be found.
The two parties were also sufficiently large and well-armed to fight their way out of any trouble that might come their way. Urthblood did not want to lose a single beast if he could help it.
Once the scouting teams were off, the Badger Lord turned his attention to lighting a signal fire for Captain Halpryn. Dry wood had been gathered from the surrounding forest and piled high for the bonfire. The Northland shrew cooks set right to work with flint and tinder, dry grass and foraged twigs for kindling. In no time at all they had a large fire blazing above the riverbank.
Urthblood himself gathered up greenery from the forest underbrush, carefully picking and choosing only certain types of leaves and branches. When they were added to the bonfire, a column of dense white smoke arose from the roaring flames, coiling up past the treetops and far up into the sky.
From the many supplies that his troops carried, Urthblood took a small cannister of power that sparkled like pulverized crystals. He poured out two large pawfuls of the powder and cast it into the dancing flames. Immediately the smoke took on a symphony of hues: blue, violet, orange, green and pink, all mingled together and yet each distinct from the other. The effect was quite beautiful, and quite unlike anything either the Redwallers or the Guosim had ever seen.
Warnokur nodded in admiration. "Yup, I don't reckon your bird captains could mistake that fer anything else, M'Lord."
"That is the idea."
Lorr was utterly enchanted by the display, edging so close to the fire that Winokur had to pull him back to keep the bankvole from singeing his whiskers. "Oh, I say, I say, that is quite marvelous! I have heard of flaked minerals producing such colors, yes I have, but you have refined them to a degree that I had never imagined! You must share this formula with me, Lord!"
"Yes, it is quite marvelous," Winokur agreed. "We could use this at our next Nameday celebration back at Redwall ... it would be quite a spectacle burning on the Abbey lawns."
Urthblood gazed westward, along the narrow clearing that the river cut through the forest. "The sun is only just setting. The long summer twilight will work to our advantage. Captain Halpryn should be able to answer this signal and arrive well before nightfall."
"What next?" Log-a-Log asked the badger warrior, eager to get on with the search for his son and the others.
"Now we set up camp," Urthblood replied. "By the time we are finished with that, the scouts should be returning. And then hopefully we will know more than we do now. How we proceed will depend upon what they can tell us."
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"I say, wot's that?"
Traveller stood stopped in his tracks, facing south. Paw to his brow, he scanned the distant horizon.
Urthfist came to a halt, as did the coulmn of hares behind him. He followed Traveller's gaze, but could make out nothing unusual that might have caused the speedy scout to stop and stare. "What is it, Traveller? What do you see?"
"Smoke, I think. Above the treetops way off to the south. Got a funny color to it. Reminds me of something I saw up north a few times."
"Up north?" Urthfist tensed. "Could it have anything to do with my brother?"
"Don't rightly know, sir. Uh, mind if I have a peek up topside?"
"Not at all. Here," Urthfist bent over and cupped his massive paws together to create a sort of stirrup. Traveller put one foot into it, and pushed himself up onto the badger's shoulders. Urthfist straightened to his full height, while Traveller planted one footpaw on each of the armored shoulder plates. Urthfist grabbed hold of the hare's ankles to steady the smaller creature, who now stood up as straight and tall as he could. From this elevated perch, Traveller once more turned his scrutiny southward.
"Hmm ... hmm ... yes, it definitely looks familiar. Not sure wot it means, tho'. Hey, Saff ol' chum, come have a jolly gander for yourself." Traveller adroitly hopped down to the ground, while Major Safford took a turn up on the Badger Lord's shoulders.
Urthfist strained to see what his hares were seeing, but could not. "I'm afraid my eyesight is no match for either of yours. All I can make out is a hazy tree line, so far away that it's just a misty shadow at the edge of the world."
"Well, there's really not too much more to it than that, sir," Safford said from high above his master. "But Traveller's right, as usual. Column of smoke, way far away. Looks sorta like it has different tints to it. Not like anything I've ever seen before."
"Traveller," said Urthfist, "you mentioned that you might know what it is?"
"Didn't make that claim, M'Lord. But a number of times up in the Northlands, I glimpsed smoke columns with many colors, just like this one seems to have. Never could trace any of 'em back to their source, so I never did learn what the bally things were all about."
"Any guesses?" Urthfist pressed.
"Well," Traveller stroked his whiskers, "there's a good many shrews wot live in the Northlands ... some o' them even work for His Bloodiness, more fool them ... an' these colored smokes always seemed to come from shrew territories. Now, we know Browder an' his friends were off to find those shrews who're allies of Redwall, away to the south. So it could be a shrew thing, but that's just a stab in the dark, sir."
"It's a more educated guess than any of the rest of us could have made," Urthfist complimented him. "How far away do you judge it to be?"
Safford answered. "It's a fair piece, sir. Tough to make an accurate estimate at this time of day. The bloomin' twilight can be tricky. Pity the sun's already set. I'd put it at a day's march from our current position, tho' it could be more like two."
"Then it does not concern us," Urthfist declared decisively, hoisting Major Safford back down to the ground; the hare landed with a sprightly bounce. "Our business lies to the northeast, at Redwall. If this mystery lay in our path, that would be one thing. But its distance and direction means that it cannot bear on us directly. We will stay to our course, to where we know we are needed, and not go chasing after some faraway phantom whose nature we do not even know. Be they friend or foe, they will be hard pressed to catch up with us. Hares, march!"
No sooner was the command given than the column was underway again, swiftly trudging its way toward Redwall.
Traveller and Safford fell into step alongside Urthfist. "I say," the Major said to the other hare, "you don't suppose our pal Browder could have something to with that bally bonfire?"
"Not unless he sprouted wings an' flew," Traveller answered. "He only left us a few hours ago. I couldn't even have sprinted that far in so short a time when I was in my prime. That smoke was over a day away, even at a full hare's run. I don't care how fast this Browder's s'posed t' be, or if he really did make it from Redwall to Salamandastron in three days - he couldn't have gotten that far south so quickly."
"Hmm. S'pose you're right, chap. But, wot if it's some sorta signal lit by the enemy, lettin' His Bloodiness know we're on our way?"
"Can't see why they'd light a signal fire so far outta th' way," said Traveller. "We could barely see it from here, an' Redwall's even farther north than we are. An' wot beast could have seen us from all the way down there, anyway? If we were bein' spied on, our watchers would run back to Redwall to warn Urthblood, not way off to the south to light some blinkin' fire. Besides, all reports have him an' his vermin concentrated 'round the Abbey. No reason to think any of 'em are in lower Mossflower, even if that explanation made sense."
"Well, you're the seasoned scout here," Safford admitted. "You'd know more o' such things than any hare among us. I'll go with your assessment."
Urthfist's rumbling voice cut across their reverie. "I trust you two are speculating for your own amusement. Of course we will be spotted by the enemy before we reach our goal. The only question is when. I have no illusions that we will be able to march right up to the gates of Redwall and catch my brother unawares. But so long as we are careful to avoid an ambush or trap, and remain on guard against any assault against us, we will keep to our course for as long as we may. Even if we are seen coming, they may have no choice but to leave us unmolested until we are nearly to the Abbey walls. No small party would dare an attack on us. If we are lucky, we may be able to penetrate well into Mossflower, and perhaps most of the way to Redwall, and find none to oppose us. So work your jaws if idle talk entertains you, but just don't forget to keep your eyes and ears alert with every step. They will tell you more of what you need to know than will your tongues."
Although the badger's tone was companionly, the mortal message in his words was not lost on his hares. Safford and Traveller immediately fell silent. And in that silence, the troop of Long Patrol marched their unbending way toward the dimming east.
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There was no reason for Urthblood to forbid the lighting of cookfires, since his signal fire was putting up enough smoke to be seen all the way to the Western Plains. As soon as the Northland shrews had finished setting the blaze to summon Halpryn, they turned their attention to starting a score of smaller fires up and down the wide riverbank. The Guosim lit a couple of their own, as did Urthblood's rats. Even Snoga's group made their own fire, pointedly refusing to mingle with any of the badger's troops, or even the main force of the Guosim.
Log-a-Log could not openly criticize his rival on this score, since he himself was not exactly warm to the idea of sharing his companionship with vermin. And so it was that the Guosim ended up sitting mostly with Urthblood's shrews and otters, while the Northland rats and weasels kept to themselves farther back toward the trees.
Everybeast who had any foraging skills at all was put to work as the fires were being lit. Enough wild rhubarb and pennycress was found to make sufficient soup for the entire gathering. The thin stew was spiced up with dried thyme and chickory from the Northlanders' supplies, and thickened with some flour and honey that the Guosim had with them. Unfortunately, no potatoes or carrots or turnips could be located to make the stew more substantial, but no complaints were heard from any of Urthblood's troops, who were happy for any hot meal at all after the hardtack rations of their last day's marching.
Log-a-Log and a few of his senior shrews staked out a spot around one fire with Lorr, Winokur, and Warnokur. Many of the other otters joined them, eager to meet the creature responsible for the fantastic bridge they'd crossed two evenings earlier.
"So," Warnokur said to Lorr, "ye're the feller that's got that bridge named after him, eh?"
Lorr flushed about the ears and looked a little embarrassed. "Not my idea to name it after myself, not it wasn't. I just scratched out the rough plans on some bark to show these fine shrews how to do it, can't very well take credit for doing more than that, no siree I can't."
"Aw, now, I recall it a touch differently, Lorr," Log-a-Log broke in. "We wandering shrews were content to leave that ford as it was, an' let the boatin' folk have the river to themselves. T'was you we found rantin' an' ravin' by the riverside, insistin' we help you build th' flinkin' thing ... why, you practically pressed us into service! How you did it I'll never be able to figger, but all I can say is that afore we knew it, we was all cuttin' an' choppin' the timber fer that bridge. Not that I regret it none. It was good fun, almost like an adventure, seein' if we could actually make it work. Didn't wanna block up the water, not leave enough room fer ferry craft 'n' logboats to pass under it. But Lorr 'ere had it all figgered from th' very first plank to th' last. Never woulda come to pass if not fer him, so we all felt it hadta bear his name."
Winokur, ever mindful of history from his Redwall schooling, said to the bankvole, "How does it feel knowing that generations from now, creatures who use that bridge might still be calling it by your name?"
Lorr shrugged. "What's this life for, if not to leave behind something that can help others?"
Warnokur laughed. "Aye, that's wisdom if ever I heard it. But don't you worry none, Lorr matey - when we get back to Redwall at the end of all this, my son Wink 'ere will make sure this bridge o' yers gets mention in our Abbey records. Ye're a historical figure, like it or not!"
The eccentric tinkerbeast stared straight ahead, eyes wide. "Funny, I don't feel like one."
"Ain't that the way o' things, tho'," the otter Olimpo mused. "Those of us who're makin' history are too busy doin' it to realize that's what they're doin'. Take this march we're on. What's gonna be waitin' fer us at Salamandastron? Will it be a battle, or will it be peaceful? If there's fightin', which side'll win, an' how will it affect th' lives of everybeast throughout all th' lands? Who among us will die, an' who will become a hero ... or both?" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Makes this simple otter's mind spin, when I think on such things."
"Countin' yer toes makes yer mind spin, you thickhead," Olimpo's friend Brot jibed, eliciting a new round of laughter. Turning to Lorr, he went on, "Historical figure or not, all I can say is it's a good thing that bridge o' yers was there, matey. We otters coulda just swum across, but th' rest o' Lord Urthblood's army woulda been stuck. Don't know what we woulda done then."
"Aye, that's true," said Warnokur. "An' bein' able to cross in such good time put us here right when you needed us, Loggy mate. Without Lord Urthblood, you'da never knowed it was searats behind those slavers o' yers. Now, y'got more of a hope gettin' liddle Pirkko an' th' rest back safe 'n' sound."
"We don't got 'em back yet." Log-a-Log stared into the fire, and the mood over the companions suddenly turned somber. "Twists my gut, just sittin' here waitin', knowin' that every passing minute could be carryin' my son farther away, p'raps forever." The shrew chieftain's gaze went to Urthblood, who stood off alone, intently studying the swift currents in the dying daylight, or so it seemed. "I'm sure he don't like all this' waitin' anymore'n I do. He just don't show it as much, being a Badger Lord."
"He's just thinkin'," Brot said. "Trust me, that beast's yer best hope of gettin' yer kin back. We seen 'im do things nobeast oughta be able t' do. Not only is he a great warrior, but he's got prophetic vision too. An' when he puts th' two of 'em togther ... well, let's just say you wouldn't wanna be th' villains you've got yer son, if Lord Urthblood's set his mind to gettin' him back."
"You don't s'pose he'd still angry about those rats of his that Snoga slew?" Log-a-Log worried.
"Lord Urthblood don't hold grudges," Olimpo assured the shrew, "an' he won't let himself stay angry over anything like that. If he says it's water under th' bridge fer him, you can bet he won't be dwellin' on it no more."
"Well, I hope that's true," Log-a-Log sighed. "I'm still gettin' used to th' notion of a badger havin' vermin under arms. Snoga was wrong to disobey orders, but I was almost ready to attack you myself, before I saw there was goodbeasts in yer train. Good thing you didn't have any foxes in this gang, elseways I'd've gone fer blood an' no questions asked."
Winokur and Warnokur traded a long, wordless glance. The exact same thought was on both their minds: there were indeed foxes in Lord Urthblood's army, but he had ordered them to stay behind at Redwall. Could he possibly have known that bringing Machus and his foxes along on this march might be inviting disaster? If Urthblood really did possess vision of future events, anything was possible.
"Anyway," Log-a-Log concluded, "if that badger can put behind him what Snoga did, I guess I can bring myself to call vermin allies. But it sure don't feel natural."
Winokur craned his neck. "Speaking of vermin, isn't that weasel over there one of the scouts sent out to scope out downriver?"
His father nodded. "Yup, I do believe it is, Wink ... "
Log-a-Log was up like a shot, bustling over to Urthblood to listen in on the returning weasel's report. The two Redwall otters followed.
"My Lord," the scout breathlessly reported, "we picked up tracks ... a few hundred paces ... west of camp 'ere ... foxes an' others, leading downstream along the bank. We followed 'em fer awhile, then they ... disappeared ... "
Urthblood - and Log-a-Log - hung on every word. "Explain," said the badger.
"Well, they led to this one spot on th' bank ... they was very thick there, like a whole lotta beasts was walkin' round 'n' round over th' same spot. Then, the tracks of the foxes led away north again, but there was no other beasts with 'em. Cap'n Saybrook thought you'd wanna come see it fer yerself, M'Lord, while there's still some daylight t'see by."
"He was right." Urthblood was striding downstream along the bank even as he spoke. "If Captain Halpryn arrives in my absence, please tell her to await me here. I will return as soon as I am able."
Winokur, Warnokur and Log-a-Log did not know what to make of this. But since it no doubt had some bearing upon the shrew's stolen son, they set off behind Urthblood, matching his brisk pace as best they could.