THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Fifty-Seven
Winokur quickly found out what glow jellies were. They were out in force, and they turned the nighttime world beneath the waves into a wonderland of flickering, dancing lights.
At first Winokur thought he was seeing things. So intent was he upon staying together with the rest of the brigade, and not being overwhelmed by the immensity of the waters around him, that he had very little attention to spare for other matters. But, as the darkness deepened and his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, it became obvious that the sea was filled with flashing sparkles that looked almost like momentary bursts of underwater lightning. As he focused more upon the phenomenon, Winokur realized the glimmers only appeared where the otters were; a few times, the animals' entire bodies were outlined and illuminated by the ghostly, blue-green electric glow. Wink himself could feel tiny, soft lumps bumping against him as he swam, and with every impact came a flash in his eyes or along his body. The effect was fascinating.
It actually didn't take long at all for Winokur to grow comfortable with ocean swimming. The tides weren't nearly as powerful as the swift currents around the searat submarine, and the dark did indeed mask the vastness of the sea, both when he was submerged and when he was on the surface. And he was surrounded by otters who were enjoying the swim every bit as much as he was. Between the glow jellies that lit their passage through the waters and the frequent surfacings that Saybrook had ordered, there was no chance whatsoever of getting lost at sea.
It was even possible to hold broken, drawn-out conversations while they swam, speaking during the brief moments between dives. Winokur's previous acquaintances Brot and Olimpo ended up alongside him, and their speed matched his closely enough so that they kept coming up within a heartbeat of one another. Saybrook hadn't ordered silence on this mission, and the two Northlands otters were in a talkative mood.
"The sea's afire tonight, that's fer shore!" Olimpo laughed.
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke.
"So these are the glow jellies," Wink said at the next surfacing, pausing to get a bearing on the other otters around him. With so many in the brigade, and the surfacings at such short intervals, it was nearly impossible to come up and not be greeted by other dark and shiny heads bobbing just above the wave swell, checking on their position in respect to their comrades before vanishing back under the water for their next swimming sprint. "But, what are they?"
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke.
"Don't rightly know," answered Brot. "This's our first time in the brine too."
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke.
"Well, are they fish, or plants, or what?" Winokur wanted to know.
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke.
"Try eatin' one," Brot suggested. "See what it tastes like."
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke.
"Already did," Olimpo reported. "Taste like salty jelly. Not recommended."
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke.
"You actshully ate one?" Brot exclaimed. "Open yer mouth - I wanna see if ye're glowin' inside!"
Ahead and to their right, Rosbor surfaced alongside Saybrook. "Beggin' yer pardon, Cap'n, but the lads an' lasses feel we can be makin' better time. These glowin' seaberries are lightin' us up fer each other, an' everybeast's caught the knack o' ocean swimmin' right quick. We can go five or even ten strokes 'tween comin' up an' still be in no danger o' driftin' apart."
"We'll make it five," Saybrook said, "see how that holds for a fewscore leagues. If it works out, we'll go up to ten."
Rosbor nodded. "T'would be nice to get to Salamandastron afore daybreak."
Saybrook dove and swam a dozen powerful body strokes to put himself ahead of the foremost otters, then came up and cried, "Halt!" long and loudly three times so that all the brigade would have a good chance to hear him. Those few who didn't quickly caught on when they saw all their comrades rise and tread water to stay in place. In short order, the entire otter troop was halted in a bobbing group, facing their commander.
"Awright, lissen up, mateys!" Saybrook called out over the background shoosh of the gentle surf. "We're stickin' t'gether better'n I anticipated, so from now on we'll go five strokes 'tween surfacings. Everybeast got that? Five strokes. Keep yer eyes sharp on each other, same as before. If I decide to make anymore changes, I'll stop again an' let y' know. Now, let's get those rudders movin'!"
He swam off to the side, taking his previous place at the front of their shoreward flank, and once again they were on their way.
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.
"Hey, this's more like it," Olimpo exulted. "I was gettin' bored, goin' so slow."
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.
"We'll be makin' good time now, that's fer shore," Brot agreed.
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.
Brot again: "Oh, I do believe I feel some raindrops. Looks like ol' Urthblood was right."
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.
"Do hares mind the rain much?" Olimpo asked.
"Dunno," Brot replied before they went under again, since Winokur came up a moment behind. "Guess we'll find out when we get there."
Dive, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.
And on they swam, closing the distance between themselves and Salamandastron.
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Hares, as a matter of fact, are not especially fond of rain, and those of the Long Patrol were no exception.
The sprinkles started around Salamandastron in the hours after sunset as on-again, off-again patches of drizzle - enough to dampen the fur and wet the whiskers, but nothing more. By midnight, however, the rainfall had increased to a steady and constant shower that would soak to the bone any creature that stayed out in it for very long.
The two hares guarding the plateau were the first to seek shelter, withdrawing to the tunnel at the foot of the stone stairs that led up to the roof of Salamandastron. There they huddled in the dark of their overnight vigil as the rain slicked the stairway and trickled down to the drainage crack below the bottom step. In no way did they feel derelict in their duty; as of twilight there had been no enemy force visible from the top of the mountain, and now the black night and the veil of rain made any attempt at a long-range lookout quite pointless. They would stand their watch down where it was dry ... not that they honestly expected anybeast to test their watchfulness on a night such as this. But all entrances were to be guarded at all times, and there wasn't a hare of the Patrols who didn't take this duty seriously.
The sentries at the north and south side entrances endured somewhat longer, since they could shelter beneath the tunnel overhangs and still view much of the coastlands. They preferred to stand outside whenever they could, to get the widest possible view, but as the drizzle strengthened to a harder rain and visibility dropped to almost nothing, they retreated into the dry sanctuary of the tunnels. As with the roof sentries above, they did not expect to be challenged, since no army would be marching on a night like this.
Outside the south tunnel stood the last holdout.
Mizagelle shivered. The night wasn't actually cold, but her tunic was saturated and her fur was soaked through to the skin, making her feel clammy rather than refreshed, as the warm spring rains often did. She pawed at her brow to keep her eyes clear of the drops dripping down into them. Her other paw kept a tight grip on her longbow, the smooth yew now slippery in her grasp, and rainwater sloshed at the bottom of her quiver, mocking her efforts to keep it tilted to prevent the heavy liquid from accumulating there. She wasn't actually miserable, but her mood was far from joyous.
"Hey, Mizzy!" called a voice from the tunnel behind her. "Come in outta th' blinkin' rain already, willya? Not doin' any good out there, an' you're makin' yer big sis look bad!"
"I'm doin' wot th' Colonel told us to, Givvy," Mizagelle called out in reply without glancing back. "Guardin' th' bally tunnel's gotta be done proper, or may's well not do it at all, wot?"
A snort of exasperation came from within the tunnel, and a moment later a second dark figure joined the first out on the rainswept slope.
"C'mon, sis," Givadon implored. "You're lookin' worse'n a drowned bilgerat. Oughta see yerself. This weren't wot the Colonel meant by standin' guard. Wot d'you s'pose he'd think o' you catchin' a chill an' gettin' laid up in the sickbed when you didn't hafta?"
"We're s'posed to be guardin' th' bally mountain," Mizagelle stubbornly asserted, "an' this is the way we guard it!"
Givadon threw a sisterly paw around Mizagelle's sodden shoulders. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now, I've been in th' Patrols a few seasons longer'n you, Miz, so trust me on this one. Wot Lord Urthfist an' the Colonel care most about is keepin' our home safe 'n' secure - "
"Right! That's wot - "
"Shush, an' don't interrupt, Mizzy. Improper hare form, don'tcha know. Now, as I was sayin', they wanna keep Salamandastron safe ... which means keepin' US safe 'n' sound, since we're th' ones who guard the bally place. So do tell, do you really think our Colonel would approve of wot you're doin' here? You might think you're bein' conscientious and all, but believe me, Miz, when you hafta miss your next rotation 'cos you got a bad case o' chills 'n' sniffles an mebbe a fever too, th' Colonel won't be any too happy 'bout bein' a hare short. 'Specially at a time like this."
"But Urthblood's out there somewhere, an' Tratton too ... "
"An' neither o' those rotters're gonna get their bloody claws on our home, if we have anything t' say 'bout it. When the daylight failed, there wasn't an enemy within a day's march o' here, but even if there was one right on our bally doorstep, wot would you do 'bout it? Out here with yer bow, which'd prob'ly slip outta your paws if you tried to draw back the string, an' yer arrows, which you couldn't sight right or shoot straight in this soaker anyway. So wise up, sis, an' come on inside. We can keep our post just as easily back in the tunnel where it's dry. Lissen to your big sister, that's a sensible hare."
"Well ... okay."
Back inside the stone tunnel, Mizagelle shook off some of the water and started to sit down with her back against the wall, but Givadon wasn't finished with her younger sister.
"Now, wot d'you think you're doin', Miz?"
"Huh? Why, I'm just gettin' settled - "
"Not like that you're not. Wet as you are now, you'd as likely catch a chill sittin' here as standin' out in th' rain. Down y'go to the kitchens, 'til you've dried out some by the ovens. Peppertail should be down there, keepin' the fires stoked; he'll help you out, get you warmed up in a jiff."
"But, that'd leave you here all alone, Givvy!" Mizagelle objected.
"Only for a little bit. Send ol' Pepper up here t' keep me company 'til you get back, if that'll make you feel better. But you're not spendin' another minute on this watch all soaked 'n' drippin', even if I hafta drag you to the kitchens by yer pretty ears. That'd leave nobeast guardin' this entrance, an' wouldn't the Colonel love that? So off y' go, an' don't come back until you're a dry hare lass."
Mizagelle started hesitantly down the tunnel. "Mebbe I should get Mum."
"Don't you dare! Our sweet ol' mater had a full watch last night, an' was up all day besides. She needs a whole night's sleep to stay sharp."
"Okay. Then I will send Peppertail up here. He may be more handy with a ladel than with arms, but I won't leave you alone, Givvy."
"Suit yerself." Givadon twirled her loaded sling so that it sang in the dark confines of the passage. "All I know is, anybeast wot doesn't belong here tries to get in this way, it's gonna wake up with one helluva headache - if it wakes up at all."
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Halfway between midnight and dawn, twoscore otters emerged from the sea like dark, silent phantoms and assembled at the foot of Salamandastron.
Captain Saybrook had kept his team to a swim pattern of five strokes between surfacings. His strategy had been the correct one; while they certainly could have made better time, Saybrook knew that there might still be a battle ahead of them this night. It was important to make sure his otters didn't exhaust themselves just reaching their destination. As it was, the measured pace of their swim left them with plenty of energy for the mission at paw.
The mountain fortress towered above them like a behemoth. As black as the night was, Salamandastron was even blacker, a shadow against the darkness, filling the entire world when they tilted their heads back to take it in. For creatures viewing it for the first time, it was a rather intimidating experience.
Saybrook turned to address his force, keeping his voice just loud enough to be heard above the rain and surf noises. "Awright ... Lord Urthblood says this west face is a good slope to climb all the way to the top. Tulia, Brot and Olimpo, you three take the roof entrance. Klystra an' Halpryn should be up there already, waitin' fer you. I want this assault as closely coordinated as we can make it. I'm countin' on you an' those birds to knock out any roof guards, an' then bottle up that openin'. Up y' go now. We'll give you a little bit of a head start, then move into position ourselves at the north an' south tunnels. Good luck ... an' be careful!"
"Aye, Captain!" Tulia took the lead, scrambling cautiously up the rain-slicked mountainside as Brot and Olimpo followed close behind so as not to lose each other in the dark. A steady rain was still falling, and the otters' wet pelts made them almost invisible against the night. It was the best possible camouflage, but there were no glow jellies here to mark the companions out to each other, and it would be easy to get lost and stay lost on the expanses of the mountain slopes.
"Okay, next then." Saybrook strained through the darkness to make out the otters standing nearest him. "Rosbor, you'll head the party to the north side entrance. Pick seven others to accompany you. It may take us both awhile to find the two side tunnels on this whoppin' big rockpile, but do the best you can. You might as well gas it as soon as you find it, since the rest of us'll be goin' in the south openin' 'bout th' same time, so nothin' gained by you waitin'. Take otters who're armed, since you might hafta fight if any hares do make it out through the gas to you."
"Think eight'll be enuff, sir?" Rosbor asked.
"Lord Urthblood seemed to think so," Saybrook replied. "I want to have as many otters with me as I can when we make the main assault. 'Member, we're the ones who hafta get down to the lower levels. Puttin' Salamandastron to sleep is gonna be mostly on our shoulders. If you encounter resistance, release as much of the sleep gas in the tunnel that you can, then beat a retreat. Don't harm any hares unless you hafta."
"Aye aye." Rosbor quickly chose seven otters from those around him, and then they were off, climbing up and around to the north face of the mountain.
Saybrook turned to the remaining force, still a over score and a half strong. "Um, Wink, lad, where are ye?"
The Redwaller stepped forward. "Right here, Captain. I was just about to ask what you wanted me to do."
"You an' yer pappy stay down here by the water's edge. If things get ugly, I don't want you in th' thick of it. I'll send somebeast to fetch you once we have the place secured. An' if things don't turn out like we planned, I s'pect you'll be seein' at least some o' us beatin' our way back past here to th' sea, so you'll know how it went one way or the other."
"Wait a sec, Cap'n," Warnokur protested. "I been a soldier in Lord Urthblood's army fer a season now, an' I'm carryin' Flitchaye oil you may need in there. I didn't ferry it all th' way upcoast to babysit it out here. Wink you want stayin' put, that I can unnerstand, he didn't come along fer th' fight. But I did. You need every pair o' paws an' every jar o' sleep oil you c'n get, sir. I'm ready an' able to be part o' this. Don't make me miss it."
"Sorry, Warny. I don't want any Redwallers settin' foot inside Salamandastron 'til it's safe. You've fought fer Lord Urthblood before, an' you'll have the chance to do so again. But this is one battle ye're gonna hafta miss. I only want me most experienced troops goin' in with me, ones I been servin' with fer seasons. You 'n' Wink stay here, an' that's an order!"
"Yes, Cap'n, sir," Warnokur said glumly.
"Awright," Saybrook called out as loudly as he dared, "everybeast else up to th' south side with me! It's a little steeper that way, so watch yer step an' be careful not t' fall. Lord Urthblood's countin' on us, so let's do it right!"
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The invasion of Salamandastron went like clockwork.
Halpryn and Klystra were waiting up on the caldera's rim when Tulia's otter trio got there. The two guard hares, sheltering down at the bottom the stairs, were oblivious to the presence of other creatures on the plateau. Tulia, Brot and Olimpo held a brief, whispered conversation with the two birds, then helped unfasten the sleep oil vessels from falcon and kite. After taking out their own clay containers as well, working with great care so as not to clink the ceramic hourglass-shaped jars against the stone floor of the mountaintop, they unfolded the tarp and silently bore the heavy sheet over to the lip of the stairwell hole that led down into the fortress.
What little sound they made was covered by the steady patter of raindrops upon the hard crater floor. The hares below never heard anything.
Klystra had told the otters what it was like down the stairs and into the long, narrow passage beyond, based upon the glimpse the falcon had stolen the previous afternoon. Now Brot and Olimpo descended halfway down the stairs as stealthily as they could, each holding one of the sleep oil bombs. Since the stairway had to be wide enough to accommodate a full-grown male badger in armor, the two otters were able to stand side by side.
Paused upon the middle step, they peered down into the passage, but the interior was black as pitch to their eyes. If there were any hares down there at all, and if they were aware of the intruders, the otters could not tell. Expecting to be challenged at any moment, Brot and Olimpo tossed their clay cannisters as far back along the corridor as they could. Even as the two vessels smashed, abruptly shattering the calm quiet with the explosive impact of their breakage, the two otters were sprinting back up to the plateau.
"Hey, wot - "
"Wot th' devil?"
The hare duo was caught completely by surprise. And now that they had betrayed their presence with their alarmed shouts, their adversaries were taking no chances. Brot and Olimpo cleared the top step with a tandem bound even as Tulia, waiting at the ready, hurled a third Flitchaye gas jar down to smash upon the lower stairs.
Before the narcotic vapors had a chance to billow up from the stairwell and overwhelm the small assault force, Halpryn and Klystra pulled the tarp over the opening, forming a barrier that would keep most of the gas and hopefully the Long Patrol hares down below.
They needn't have worried. The two hares were overwhelmed by the gas almost immediately, and dropped to the stone floor of the passage mere paces from their original positions. Not even knowing what manner of attack was upon them until they started choking and their eyes started watering, they fell before they could escape the gas or raise a cry.
The nearest hares who could have helped were fast asleep several levels down. Those members of the Long Patrol slept on, unroused by the distant, ghostlike echo of something breaking. Every hare had been on edge since Urthfist's departure, and this rainy night was seen as something of a respite. Those who didn't have guard duty allowed themselves to surrender totally to the deep slumber of dreams. Badly in need of whatever uninterrupted sleep they could get, they weren't about to let some phantom noise, barely audible to even alert hare ears, intrude upon their justly deserved rest.
And so, Phase One of Urthblood's plan met with no resistance.
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Down on the north slopes, Phase Two was unfolding.
Rosbor's octet of otters crouched just outside the tunnel opening on either side. Their biggest challenge had been locating the black entrance against the black mountainside on this moonless night, without attracting the notice of the hares who might be watching from within the recess. Fortunately, the rainy darkness worked to their benefit as well, rendering their stealthy forms almost invisible and allowing them to creep right up to the tunnel mouth without betraying their approach. Urthblood had given the troop detailed instructions on finding the tunnel openings, including what small landmarks to look for. These had helped greatly, and now Rosbor's small squad flanked one of the two remaining ways into Salamandastron.
Four sleep oil jars were hurled into the tunnel as one. Two hit the hare guards within; one of these bounced off a sentry's stomach in such a way that it hit the floor without breaking, its velocity absorbed by the yielding body it had impacted. But the other three vessels did rupture successfully, immediately filling the tunnel with thick gas invisible in the unlit passage. Here, too, the Long Patrol sentinels needed several moments to figure out what was going on. Instinctively they retreated back along the passage to regroup and decide whether it would be better to try to hold the tunnel or go for help. But they did not retreat quite far enough, and by the time they realized their mistake in a spasm of choking and coughing, it was too late. Down they went and down they stayed, while the sleep-inducing vapors wafted over them and farther into Salamandastron.
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Givadon cupped the hot mug in her paws. "Thanks fer th' tea, Sergeant."
Peppertail shrugged, invisible in the darkness. "Don't mention it, Givvy m' dear. Had t' come up here anyway, an' 'twas already brewed."
"Aw, you didn't hafta, Sarge. I coulda held this post by m'self until Mizzy got all dried out. Nobeast out 'n' about tonight, friend or foe, an' that's fer sure. I could prob'ly sleep away the rest o' this watch, an' nobeast'd be th' wiser."
"If you're thinkin' 'bout a nap," Peppertail chuckled, "then I sure am glad I brought up that tea. It'll keep you from noddin' off."
"Must be most o' the way toward dawn," Givadon guessed. "Didn't need any help keepin' awake, tho' bed's gonna feel mighty comfy after this damp 'n' dreary watch-about. Hope this tea doesn't keep me from fallin' asleep. Hate lyin' abed waitin' to drift off to bally dreamland."
The sound of approaching pawsteps against the stone passageway floor made them glance up, but as yet they could make out no form in the dark. Mizagelle called out, "Hullo, Givvy, Pepper! You both still up there?"
"Right here, Miz," Givadon answered.
"Could've fooled me. Cripes, it's a dark one tonight! Can't see me paw in front o' my face. Well, just barely I can. But, uh, keep talkin', you two, wouldya? Don't wanna bump into you."
"Sure thing, sis. We'll just babble on a bit, an' you follow my voice."
It was very unusual to get such a dark night at Salamandastron. Normally, moonlight or at least starlight would be visible in the sky, framing the tunnel mouths against the world outside. And on those evenings when moon and stars were completely obscured by clouds, it was customary to light lamps, torches and lanterns to illuminate the interior of the stronghold. On their current war footing, however, the Colonel had ordered that no lights be lit which might guide an enemy to one of the two unfortified side entrances. The strategy had worked just fine up until now, since every previous night had been light enough for the hares to see by, while they remained hidden in the shadows of the tunnel openings or still as statues just outside them on the slopes, imperceptible to anybeast spying out the mountain. But tonight, there was no light within or without, making the outside nearly as black as the deepest unlit mountain chamber. This made the job of the overnight sentries very difficult indeed, since an intruder could walk right up to one of the entrances and still not be seen, even by the sharp-eyed hares.
Not that any such thing would happen, of course. What were the chances that an enemy would be able to perfectly time an attack to coincide with such unusual weather conditions? Still, it begged the question of exactly what the tunnel guards were supposed to be doing when they couldn't even see the weapons in their own paws, much less the other creatures about them.
"You all good 'n' dried out now, Miz?" Peppertail asked.
"I should hope so," Givadon said sardonically. "Been down there so long, thought mebbe she'd fallen into one o' the ovens, an' we'd be havin' roast hare fer brekkers."
"No such luck, sis," Mizagelle's voice was much nearer now. "I am nice 'n' dry, tho'. Fluffy as a baby bunny. Too bad you can't see me in this ink - I'm positively puffed!"
"Then we'll just hafta stick you back out in the rain - hey, easy with that bow!"
"Wotcha mean?" Mizagelle asked, puzzled. "I didn't touch anybeast yet."
"Well, somethin' just poked me in the spine!" Givadon insisted. "No, I guess it wasn't you, Miz, you're still in front o' me. Sergeant, wot're you swingin' 'round back there?"
Peppertail's voice came from alongside her. "Sorry, gel. I'm standin' put with my paws to m'self. You must've poked your own self."
A fourth voice, deep and resonant, sounded in the dark passage. "Excuse me, but is this Salamandastron?"
The three hares froze, shocked to the sudden realization that they were not alone in the shadowy blackness.
"Who goes there?" Peppertail challenged, as Givadon spun toward the unseen stranger, hefting her loaded sling.
"Nobeast here but us otters," the voice said matter-of-factly. "'Scuse me, but I gotta run now."
"Oomf!" There was a sound of quick motion, and something heavy hit Mizagelle in the stomach, shattering as it deflected off her body and hit the stone floor. Givadon saw a movement, a shadow among shadows, and swung her sling for a crippling blow. Her swing met only empty space; the intruder had already retreated outside the tunnel.
"Why, that blighter!" Givadon snarled. From behind, she heard Mizagelle start to cough and wheeze, and an acrid odor stung her nose and eyes. "Mizzy! You all right, sis? Wot'd that interloper chuck at you?"
Another explosive crash sounded from out near the tunnel mouth. Now Peppertail was coughing as well.
"Poison!" the Sergeant gasped. "We're bein' poisoned!" Then his body hit the tunnel floor with a thump.
Givadon turned this way and that, flailing through the invisible clouds with her sling. Billows of the gas closed in upon her from both directions, and within moments her head was spinning. At the last she realized, too late, that her first move should have been back down the tunnel at the very first sign of trouble. This thought was chased from her mind by the spasms of choking coughs that doubled her over onto her knees. Now there was nobeast to warn the others of this unexpected danger. Her paw found her sister's still, warm form as she groped for clear space to collapse; then she was overcome completely. Givadon slumped forward, not even aware that she was lying partly atop Mizagelle.
As soon as all sound of movement and struggle ceased within the passage, a long line of dark, sleek, thick-tailed figures filed into the tunnel, feeling their way past the fallen hares and toward the heart of Salamandastron. Over their mouths and noses they wore special masks to filter out the sleeping gas, and in their paws they carried many more of the vessels that had already put to sleep every sentry the Long Patrol had standing watch that night. As two of the intruders saw to binding and gagging the unconscious hares, the rest continued farther into the passage. There was now nothing to stop the invaders.