Eulalia! (37 page)

By midmorning the rain had ceased and the wind became a mere whisper of breeze. Mossflower came back under the spell of halcyon summer. Watching the back trail, to see they were not being followed, Vizka and his five cohorts emerged from the woodlands. Dripping with dew and drizzle from the foliage, they halted on the path, panting as they got their bearings. Redwall Abbey's bell tower was visible to the south, the golden fox turned to face north. “Dat way to der ford an' d'ship.”

Firty cocked an ear at a sound from the woodlands. “Somebeast comin', Cap'n, we been follered.”

Vizka ran across the path. “In der ditch, quick!”

They leapt into the ditch, which separated the path from the flatlands. It was full of mud and nettles, and was a sticky and uncomfortable landing, but nobeast made a sound. Crouched on the ditchbed, the crew vermin held their breath as Vizka risked a speedy glance over the bank. He uttered a sigh of relief as a familiar cackle sounded from the underbrush.

It was Glurma, the fat, old cook of the
Bludgullet.
She waddled across and peered into the ditch, treating her shipmates to a snaggletoothed grin. “Heehee, ya wuddent t'ink o' sneakin' off widout ole Glurma, now, would ye?”

Vizka scowled. “Anyone else follerin' us?”

Glurma sat down on the path. “Only me, Cap'n, jus' ole Glurma. Der rest of ya fine crew's prob'ly waitin' at ‘ellgates right now, pore fools.”

The golden fox glared at her. “Alright, ya better git down 'ere wid de others.”

Glurma twitched her snout at the rank odour of mud and wet loam. She shook her head. “Nah, I'm too long in me seasons t'be wadin' round in dat lot. I'll jus' walk on der path alongside ya.”

Vizka beckoned, as though he had something secret to impart. The fat cook bent, so he could whisper in her ear. She did not even see the spiked metal mace, which snuffed out her life in the wink of an eye. Vizka stepped back disdainfully. “Stupid ole fool, she'd give us away walkin' along in clear view. Stow 'er down 'ere, Glurma ain't goin' nowheres!”

Shocked into silence by the swift and callous murder, the crewbeasts obeyed their captain's order. Vizka thrust the sword of Martin through his waist sash, he shouldered the mace without a backward glance at his victim. “Git goin', 'tis safer down 'ere where we can't be seen!”

 

Back amid the woodlands near the plateau, Orkwil was being reunited with his friends. Rangval ruffled the young hedgehog's headspikes fondly.

“We thought ye were a goner when ye went astray. Where did ye go, mate?”

Orkwil related his story. “I was climbin' up to the top o' that rock, with you an' Maudie, in the dark. Then I tripped an' fell, right down the hill. Must've banged my head agin a rock, 'cos I blacked out for awhile. Then I came around a bit, an' went wanderin' off. I was still only half-conscious, an' there was vermin all over the place, Brownrats an' Sea Raiders, far too many of 'em, I thought. So I made me way back to Redwall, an' reported everythin' to the Abbot an' that good ole badger, Tabura I think ye call him.”

Abbot Daucus took up the tale. “We knew you had to be rescued, so the Tabura and I took a chance. I marched from the Abbey, taking every able-bodied beast with me. The Tabura, with only the Dibbuns and old ones, stayed back to guard Redwall. He sounded out an alarm on both our Abbey bells. Such a din! I wonder you didn't hear it back here. The Tabura made those bells ring! They never have been so powerfully tolled.

“As our friends arrived to answer the call, from all over Mossflower, they were sent to join with us. We arrived in sight of the plateau, surrounded by a veritable army. Kinbeasts, tribal relatives, some we had helped or befriended in bygone seasons, even a bunch of Riverdogs and some roving Guosim. It made my heart soar to see so many who love Redwall!”

Maudie came running to congratulate Orkwil. “By the left, right, front'n'centre, you've done us proud, young Orkers. What a show, hoorah to you, sah!” She threw a paw around Rangval's shoulders. “Well, well, what d'ye think, Rangee, isn't our little pal the absolute bloomin' bees' knees, wot?”

The rogue squirrel agreed heartily. “Ah, t'be shure he is, miz, but yore only lookin' at half the crowd him an' the good Father Abbot fetched with 'em. Hah! The other half of yore warriors are chasin' the tails off Brownrats an' vermin all over the woodlands, aye, an' I'll stake me tail they won't be takin' many o' the bad ould scum prisoners. I think by nightfall that Mossflower won't be bothered by invaders an' plunderers no more!”

Maudie chuckled. “Especially if friend Gorath is huntin' 'em, wot wot! By the bye, has anybeast seen him of late? He's partially my responsibility y'know.”

Osbil pointed with his rapier. “Here comes Salixa, she'll know if anybeast does!”

Abbot Daucus took the badgermaid's paw. “That was a brave show you put on up there at the plateau, miz, and your friend Gorath. Where is he?”

Salixa explained in a word. “Gone!”

Maudie's ears stood up like pikestaffs. “Gone? Where's he flippin' well gone to, who's gone with him, is he on his own, why didn't you stop him? Gone, is that all you've got to bloomin' say, marm, gone?”

The Abbot stared Maudie into silence before turning to Salixa. “I can tell by your eyes that you know where Gorath has gone. Pray, would you enlighten us?”

The badgermaid explained, as briefly as she could. “Gorath has gone to fulfill a dream he had last night. I, too, had a dream, I must follow him. Orkwil, if you wish to regain Martin's sword you'll come with me. Maudie, you must come, too, if Gorath is to realise his destiny. Now we must go quickly.”

Benjo Tipps enquired, “Who sent your dream, miss?”

Salixa replied tersely, “My Tabura and your Martin.”

The Abbot settled any further comment. “Then you must go right now. Good fortune attend you!”

Rangval grasped his dagger hilts. “I'm with ye, missy, if'n ye'll have me along?”

Skipper Rorc nodded to his cousin Barbowla. “I've been out the action too long, I'm comin', too, are ye with me, Barb?”

As Barbowla picked up his javelin, Osbil spoke out. “Looks like ye be needin' a few Guosim to round the feast off, we're with ye!”

The slender badgermaid bowed gracefully. “My thanks, friends. Follow me!”

 

Gorath the Flame was following his fate. The big badger's footpaws pounded the earth like triphammers as voices echoed through his head, directing him. North through the vast tract of Mossflower he raced, with a speed which was surprising for one of his size. Pictures raced through his mind, the flicker of firelight and shadow, a smiling fox swinging a spiked metal ball at his head. Once! Twice! As he lay helpless on the floor of a little farmhouse.

Gorath the Flame was following his fate. Like a runaway juggernaut, smashing through bushes which barred his path, plunging through streams in a welter of icy spray. The coarse laughter of Sea Raiders rang in his ears; branch, twig, plant and thorn were crushed in his headlong flight through the silent woodlands. Mingled with the laughter, he could hear the anguished screams of two ancient badgers, his blood kin, struggling feebly in the locked and burning building.

Gorath the Flame was following his fate, still directed by unseen forces. Nausea, an iron chain, a padlocked waist manacle. The ship plunging wildly over the cold Nothern Seas. Starvation, a flailing rope's end, the pain lancing through his head. More laughter, the glitter of a golden fox's long fangs, the taunts and insults he was forced to bear in silence.

Weaving around the moss-clad trunks of mighty forest trees. Breath rising like a bellows in his cavernous chest. His paw grasping the pitchfork like a vise. Sunlight and shadow racing by, fernbeds that his footpaws bulled a swathe through. Startled birds flapping skywards, to avoid this giant, heading onward to the river, like a coming storm. Aye, Gorath the Flame was following his fate!

When he was confident that they were not being pursued, Vizka Longtooth slowed his pace. The fact that his ambitions of conquering Redwall, plus the cowardly, cut-and-run retreat he had been forced to make, rankled him deeply. Now he had to reestablish his authority over what was left of his once-numerous crew. The stretch of ditchbed they were travelling now was nettle-free, and drying out nicely in the late summer sunlight. The golden fox seated himself on a stone, allowing the crewbeasts to continue onward before he called to them.

“Where are ya runnin' to, dere ain't no 'urry. Sit ya down an' rest awhile, mates.”

Sheepishly the five vermin came back to sit with him.

He stared pityingly at them, there was contempt in his tone. “Hah, wot are ya all dashin' off like frightened liddle insects for, eh?”

Jungo, who was not the brightest of weasels, said by way of explanation, “Yew said ya wanted t'get away quick, Cap'n. Prob'ly 'cos ya was scared o' dat big stripe'ound follerin' ya.”

There was a sickening thud as the mace smote Jungo. He crumpled, lifeless, to the drying mud. The golden fox did not even rise, he grinned as he turned Jungo facedown, with a shove of his footpaw.

“Wot's dat ya said, scared? Me, Vizka Longtooth, de greatest o' Sea Raider cap'ns, scared! Ahoy, speak up now, anymore o' yew mis'rable scum wants ta call me scared?”

Knowing there would be no response, Vizka put aside his mace and drew Martin's wondrous sword. He waved it, making the blade flash in the sunlight, then thrust it, point first, into the ditchbed. Watching the weapon quiver, he ignored the four remaining crew, speaking to Jungo, whose lifeless eyes stared up at the sun. “Dis is der greatest sword I ever seen, but I ain't slayed anybeast wid it yet. Haha, mebbe I shoulda tried it out on yew, eh? Nah, a pretty blade like dis is too good fer a fool weasel. But der next one who strokes me d'wrong way, dat'll be der beast who'll taste der sword, right, shipmates?”

There was, however, no reply. Whilst Vizka had been admiring the sword, and addressing the dead Jungo, the four vermin had crept away and climbed out of the ditch.

The golden fox stood on the stone, which had served him as a seat, and peered over the ditchtop. They were not on the path, or in the woodland fringe. Turning, he saw them, running off over the flatlands to the west. The golden fox would have traded either of his weapons for a longbow and quiver of arrows at that moment. Instead he was reduced to shouting after them.

“Git back 'ere, ya cowards, I'm yer cap'n, an' dat's an' order. Git back 'ere right now!”

But they had a head start and they kept going. All but one, the small rat, Firty. He halted and yelled aloud, “We ain't comin' back, Longtooth, let's see 'ow far ye'll get widout a crew, go an' sail yer own ship!”

Vizka waved the sword and mace aloft. “Git back 'ere, ya gutless worms, or I'll slay youse all!”

Firty scoffed. “Hah, ya don't stan' a chance o' catchin' us! C'mon, try it, stupid!”

Firty took off after his shipmates. Enraged by the impertinent little rat, Vizka scrambled out onto the plain and gave chase.

It was pointless. Fear lent speed to the crewbeasts' paws, beside which they began to split up, fanning out as they went. With the handicap of sword and mace weighing on him, Vizka soon gave up. He stood panting, tongue lolloping out over his two long fangs.

Firty halted, too, nimbly he skipped back a few paces, mocking his former captain. “Yore on yer own now, ya dirty murderer!”

For the first time, there was a whine of self-pity in Vizka's reply. “Firty, mate, wot did I ever do to harm ya?”

The little rat picked up a stone and slung it. He stood gritting his teeth as it fell far short of the target. Firty gave vent to all his stifled feelings as he replied to the golden fox. “Ya never did nothin' to 'arm me, apart from the kicks an' insults I put up wid from ya. But worrabout the ones ya killed…ole Glurma, an' pore Jungo who never 'armed anybeast. Yer no good, Longtooth! Wot sorta cap'n sneaks off an' leaves all but five of 'is crew t'be slain by de enemy? An' yore a coward, too, ya ran 'cos yer frightened o' d'big stripe'ound. Well, yer on yer own now, ya murderer. An' I 'opes I never sees yer ugly mug agin!” Firty turned and bounded off without a backward glance, leaving Vizka completely deserted.

Vizka reviewed his position aloud. “Let der maggots run, dey was never any use t'me, ungrateful blaggards, leavin' dere cap'n widout a crew to sail 'is ship, how'm I supposed t'do dat?” Venting his rage on the earth, he stabbed at the ditchbed with Martin's sword, thinking back upon the
Bludgullet
's ill-starred voyage, and his subsequent failure to possess Redwall Abbey.

At the thought of his ship, it suddenly occurred to Vizka that he had left two of the crew to guard it. He could not recall their names, but that did not bother him unduly. Fortune had taken yet another turn for the golden fox. With himself and a pair of able-bodied vermin, he would manage to sail the
Bludgullet.

Considerably cheered, Vizka briskly continued his journey, with a jumble of future plans revolving in his fertile imagination. Crewbeasts would not be difficult to recruit as his ship skirted the coastlands on its southern voyage. Vizka had two ways of bringing stray vermin into his service, the first of which was eminently simple: join my crew or die! The second method was for those he judged to be valuable as Sea Raiders. These he could flatter, offering them plunder, the good life and promotion aboard ship.

Vizka Longtooth could not resist laughing aloud, where were they now, his former crew, either dead alongside a horde of Brownrats, or deserters, running for their lives. He marvelled aloud at his own cunning and resilience. “I gotta fine ship, a good mace an' chain, aye, an' a sword like no other beast alive owns. Hah, a new crew? I kin pick dem up anyplace, me, Vizka Longtooth, der boldest sea raidin' cap'n dat ever strode a deck!”

 

Maudie trotted up front with Orkwil, Salixa, Osbil and Skipper Rorc. They had skirted the base of the plateau, and were now following Gorath's well-defined trail, northward through the woodlands. The haremaid observed wryly, “There's one jolly good thing, chaps, we don't need any blinkin' expert tracker, t'sniff the breeze an' look for bent blades of grass. Friend Gorath left a trail like a bloomin' pack o' stampedin' wolves, wot!”

Salixa nodded as she viewed the trampled and broken vegetation ahead of them. “I think he's back to his former strength. How far is it to the ford, Osbil?”

The young shrew was not sure. “Couldn't say for sure, bein' in the woodlands an' not on the path, miss. Wot d'you reckon, Skip?”

Skipper Rorc glanced up at the position of the sun. “Oh, if'n we keep goin' at this rate, we should see the ford come early evenin'. But why d'ye think the big feller's makin' for River Moss?”

Orkwilleaptover a half-flattened bush. “'Cosif'nGorath's after the fox an' his crew, they're bound to get to their ship. Once they can make it t'the sea there'll be no catchin' the villains, right, miss?”

The badgermaid kept her eyes on the trail. “I only know what my dream told me, my fate is intertwined with that of Gorath, it's my duty to follow him.”

Maudie merely shrugged. “As for me, I'm only doin' my duty under orders from a Badger Lord an' my commandin' officer. If I return to Salamandastron minus a blinkin' badger, good golly, one shudders t'think of it, wot, I'd be on a fizzer for the rest o' my bloomin' life!”

Rangval winked at her. “Don't you go frettin', me bold beauty, shure we'll find Gorath for ye.”

Maudie sniffed indignantly. “Huh, these confounded heroic types, you'd think instead o' rushin' off to face their fate, they'd jolly well sit still an' let the Fate come to them, wot!”

Salixa smiled grimly. “A pleasant thought, but let's save our breath and step up the pace. There's no telling what we may find, if and when we catch up with Gorath.”