Doomwyte

29

It had become clear to every bird or reptile that dwelt in the caverns beneath the hill that their fate was sealed. Sealed in more ways than one, with the monster, Baliss, blocking the exit tunnel. As yet, the snake had not entered the main cavern, he lay in the passage. Sometimes half-conscious, but often hissing wildly, writhing and smiting the passage walls as the infected wounds grew more agonising. The huge reptile’s head had become a grotesque vision of ugliness. Swollen and bloated, with broken hedgehog spines, the lips and nostrils inflated with poisonous secretions. Even the blind, blue-white eyes suppurated, leaking poison which was not natural snake venom.

All the inhabitants of the main cave, with its boiling pool and sulphurous atmosphere, crowded into the rear cavern. Their fear of Korvus Skurr, the Doomwyte Chieftain, was overcome by the terror of Baliss, whose abhorrent head could be seen lurking in the tunnel. Korvus Skurr was now a leader only by his size and savage fighting skills. The reptiles, snakes, lizards and toads concealed themselves in corners and crannies of the inner cave. Already they were being used as a food source by the army of carrion birds, who could no longer hunt outside for their needs. The only hope Korvus cherished was that the snake would finally die in the tunnel, and not enter his caverns. He perched on the rock above the bottomless, dark lake, with the smoothsnake Sicariss at his side.

Sicariss knew that the only safe place to be was by the big raven. He was her sole protection, with so many scavenging carrion about.

Korvus peered into the watery depths as he asked his smoothsnake, “Kaarh! Where is the Welzz, I would hear what it has to say.”

Sicariss watched the surface of the lake, commenting, “Welzzzz musssst be offered food!”

Without looking up, the Doomwyte tyrant issued an order. “Haaraak, bring food for my Welzz!”

None of the carrion moved from their perches.

Korvus looked up then, raking the birds with his fierce eyes. “Yakaaar! I said bring food, any reptile will do. Quickly!”

Still there was no movement from within the feathered ranks. Veeku, the crow leader, was nearby, his damaged wing hanging uselessly. Drawing himself up, Korvus towered over the wounded crow.

“Haaarrr! Tell them to do as I command!”

Veeku bowed his head. “Korrah! Lord, why should these birds find food for a fish? If they cannot leave to hunt outside, they will need the reptiles to feed upon.”

Korvus lashed out with his wicked talons, felling his once-faithful servant. Overtaken by rage, the big raven struck Veeku a barrage of blows with his heavy, lethal beak, crying harshly, “Rakkachakk! I will be obeyed! I am the Great Doomwyte!”

Crows, rooks, jackdaws and choughs flew screeching harshly from their perches, seeking the upper rocky crags close to the ceiling. Korvus placed his talons on the dead Veeku, calling to them.

“Yakaaaar! Death to all who disobey me. This one will feed my Welzz, watch, and witness the wrath of your Great Doomwyte!”

Dragging the dead crow leader to the lake, he flung Veeku into the water. The carcass floated on the dark surface momentarily. Then the water exploded as Welzz came rushing upward and engulfed the offering.

Korvus strutted over to Sicariss. “Hayaak! Now you will speak to Welzz. Ask if Baliss will die soon!”

If indeed the voracious fish could have spoken, it might well have mentioned what was going on above the Doomwytes’ realm. Bisky and Spingo had elected to help Dubble and Zaran with their task of collapsing the cave entrance. Once they had been told of the black otter’s plan, plus the fact that Baliss was also inside with the reptiles and vermin, they volunteered eagerly. Zaran was less enthusiastic, giving them her reasons tersely.

“This is my task, Zaran does not need others. Revenge upon Skurr and his creatures is my vow. There is much danger, I would not forgive myself if young ones were killed or hurt.”

Being a Gonfelin, and seldom lost for words, Spingo reasoned with the avenging otter. “Enemies is enemies, my da always sez. Yore our friend, so your enemy is ours. Lissen, mate, ye won’t get a better chance than this. Not only is Skurvybottom an’ his mob in those caves, but now y’ve gorra chance t’get them an’ that big ould snake, too. Aye, an’ why should the likes of us get hurt an’ killed, eh? We ain’t gonna scrap with ’em paw’t’paw. All we’re doin’ is blockin’ ’em in, so that we don’t have ter look at their ugly mugs agin!”

Bisky seconded the pretty mousemaid. “Spingo’s right, marm. Besides, four pair o’ paws should get the job done quicker!”

Arming themselves with Zaran’s tools, they set to work on the hillside. The black otter shrugged. “It is not the work of one day or ten. Do not expect this hill to collapse soon, young friends!”

“Oh, we know that, don’t we, mates? You jus’ tell us where t’dig, an’ we’ll get the job done, no matter ’ow long it takes!” Spingo assured her.

Zaran indicated a massive slab of rock, protruding from the side of the slope. “I think we dig that out, then balance it careful.”

Dubble nodded. “Righto, then when the time comes a good push’ll send it down in front o’ the entrance, with any luck.”

There was a big old beech tree growing alongside the slab. A lot of its root network had to be hacked away as they excavated into the uphill side of the ponderous stone. Zaran took her double-bladed sword, attacking the big beech roots. Bisky commenced digging at the back of the slab, Dubble took the side opposite the beech tree. Spingo threw all her energy into excavating the front side of the ponderous stone. They laboured steadily, the three young ones digging, and Zaran severing the thick root tendrils which impeded the task.

Dubble stopped to take a drink of water, as he straightened up he was hit by a pile of soil. Spitting earth and wiping at his eyes, he complained loudly, “Ahoy there, Bisky, watch where yore throwin’ that stuff, will ye!”

Popping his head up over the rear of the slab, Bisky protested, “It wasn’t me, mate, I’m chuckin’ my soil backward. Watch out, here comes some more!”

Dubble ducked, just in time, as a shovelful of loose earth came sailing over. Zaran looked up from working on a weighty root. She pointed to the front of the stone, sidestepping more soil. “Young maid, working like wildbeast!” The black otter carried on working, whilst Bisky and Dubble climbed out of the meagre holes they had dug. They went to the front, to see what progress Spingo had made.

She could not be seen, but they could hear her grunting as she dug. The industrious mousemaid had burrowed a tunnel, she was practically underneath the slab. Bisky ducked to one side as more loose earth came flying from Spingo’s excavation. He called down the long hole.

“What’n the name o’ fur’n’tails are you doing down there?”

Another pile of loose earth shot out of the tunnel, followed by Spingo’s reply. “I’m gittin’ the job done, mate, that’s wot I’m doin’, ’ow are you’n’Dubble gettin’ on?”

Dubble stared in amazement at the hole. “Not half as well as you are, miss, are ye sure none of yore ancestors were moles?”

Bisky interrupted his friend. “Spingo, come out o’ there, it looks dangerous!”

More soil flew from the hole, then Spingo answered, “I’ll just finish off down ’ere, then I’ll come up for a drop o’ water. Thirsty work, eh!”

Nobeast could have predicted what happened next. Spingo’s shovel could be heard striking against the bottom of the huge slab, as she gouged out more earth. Zaran hacked through the last of the heavy root she was working on. Without warning the entire slab moved. The black otter leapt from the stone as it sank, settling down into the hillside. Bisky fell flat on his stomach, scrabbling at the stone-filled hole as he yelled, “Spingo! Spingo!”

Dubble and Zaran joined him, digging away with their bare paws at rock and earth, roaring, “Stay where ye are, missy, don’t move, we’ll get ye out!”

The slab moved a fraction more. Zaran pulled Bisky and Dubble away from it. She tapped against the stone several times, holding up a paw for silence. After what seemed like an age, they heard the shovel striking rock, somewhere below. Bisky gripped his shovel so tight that it hurt his paws.

“She’s alive, did ye hear her? Spingo’s alive!”

Zaran dug with her sword, between the hillside and the edge of the slab. It moved, settling down another fraction. They heard Spingo, banging urgently away with her shovel. Dubble waved his paws furiously.

“Stop, don’t dig anymore or we’ll crush ’er t’death!”

A horrific thought struck Bisky. “She might be suffocatin’ down there, what’ll we do?”

Rushing to the beech tree, Zaran chopped off a long branch with a few strokes of her double-bladed weapon. “We try this. I work fast!”

Swiftly lopping off any side shoots and leaves, she sharpened a point on the thinner end of the branch. Now she had what looked like a long javelin. Pushing it into the earth alongside the slab, the powerful otter started twisting the pole, whilst pushing her weight down on it. The beech spear sank deeper with each turn and push. Bisky and Dubble hurried to assist Zaran, but she shoved them aside. “No no, too much force will snap this wood. Zaran will do it. See!” The beech pole moved up and down freely. She withdrew it, cupping her paws over the hole, and calling down into it, “Spingo, you hear Zaran?”

A faint, pitifully thin voice answered, “Aye…. I c’n breathe now…. Don’t dig anymore…y’ll bring the stone down on me!”

There was a moment’s awkward silence, then Zaran called gently down the tiny airhole, “We hear you, don’t worry. I make another hole, you’ll breathe better. Be silent now, stay still.”

The black otter repeated the pressing and twisting process with the sharpened beech rod. Working away she muttered to herself, “Never should let young ones dig, too much danger. All my fault—”

Dubble cut in sharply, “Lissen, mate, stop talkin’ silly. It ain’t nobeast’s fault. We should be puttin’ our brains on ’ow t’get Spingo out, so quit blamin’ yoreself. Now, wot’n the name o’ Guosim are we goin’ t’do? Tenscore like us couldn’t lift that bloomin’ big stone, an’ if we dig it’ll only sink an’ crush pore Spingo. So, wot d’we do, any ideas?”

The brain wave hit Bisky like a lighting bolt. “I know! Moles, that’s what we need!”

Zaran repeated the word. “Moles?”

Bisky warmed eagerly to his plan. “Aye, moles, what else? Redwall Abbey has a Foremole an’ a mighty crew of moles. What they don’t know about diggin’, tunnellin’ an’ shorin’ up isn’t worth knowin’. Right, we’ve got a logboat, too.”

A glimmer of hope shone in Zaran’s dark eyes. “You can get moles here quickly?”

Dubble became suddenly fired by the plan. “You stay with Spingo, mate, keep ’er spirits up, an’ tell ’er this. Me’n’ Bisky are goin’ to bring a full molecrew to git ’er outta there! Aye an’ they’ll be travellin’ like the wind in a fleet o’ logboats, with the best Guosim paddlers in Mossflower to speed ’em on their way. Right, Bisk?”

Bisky seized his friend’s paw, shaking it hard. “Right, Dubble, let’s go to Redwall!”

Below in the darkness, Spingo crouched beneath the massive slab. Zaran had informed her of the plan, so she tried to keep up her spirits by inventing a little ditty.

“O ’tis dark down ’ere,

but I’ll never fear,

with mates to ’elp me out,

good friends an’ true

an’ I’ve got one or two,

who’ll come if I just shout.

So come to my aid,

I’m a liddle Gonf’lin maid

Just longin’ to be free.

I’m stuck down an ’ole,

just waitin’ for a mole,

t’drop right in for tea….”

Spingo could not think of another line, so she lay there in pitch blackness, with the mighty stone pressing down…and wept.