High Rhulain

8

Big Kolun Galedeep had ten small otterbabes, which was almost half of his family, aboard his boat, the Rustynail. The sails had been furled on his orders. He sat in the stern, twanging away at his banjotta. Leatho Shellhound sat beside him, holding the tiller steady as the little otters pulled away, two to each oar. Helping them to keep an even stroke, Kolun and Leatho roared out a lusty shanty. The Rustynail travelled at a fair clip around the bay, broken occasionally when one of Kolun’s small brood pulled too hard, missed the water and tumbled over backwards. They were learning not only to row but also to sing. They were raucous infants, missing some of the lyrics but coming in heartily on every last line.

“Hey now, hark belay there an’ listen ole mate,

Hear the high seas a-callin’, c’mon let’s not wait,

out there on the briny with no land in sight,

just the gold sun above ye an’ bright stars at night.

Ho barnacles binnacles bungtops an’ blood!

In the kingdom of fishes they sport an’ they play,

the herrin’ the mackerel the fluke an’ the ray,

in bluey green deeps where the long seaweed grows,

there swims an’ ould dolphin they call Bottlenose.

Ho barnacles binnacles bungtops an’ blood!

Set course by yore rudder an’ trim up those sails,

we’ll plough on forever through doldrums an’ gales,

bound for the red sunset far over the main,

an’ leave the landlubbers to roam hill an’ plain.

Ho barnacles binnacles bungtops an’ blood!”

The little otters thought it was all great fun. They went into tucks of laughter when their father and Uncle Leatho roared at them in colourful nautical terms.

“Heave away, ye tiny sea swabs! Bend yore backs an’ straighten yore rudders!”

“Hahaarr, buckoes, we’ll put muscles on ye like cockles! Haul on those oars, or ’tis over the side with ye!”

“Ahoy, can’t ye pull better’n that? Ye’d have trouble pullin’ yoreselves out of a pot o’ skilly’n’duff!”

Deedero, big Kolun’s missus, came bustling along the bayshore with a young ottermaid in tow. Both were waving and hallooing to get the Galedeep Skipper’s attention. When one of the otterbabes spotted them, she prodded her father with her oar.

Big Kolun scowled comically at the tiny creature. “Avast there, ye bold salty scoundrel, strikin’ yore cap’n with a paddle. Ye’ll be keelhauled for that!”

Leatho squinted villainously at his big friend. “Keelhauled? Shiver me tripes, yore gittin’ too soft with these mutineers, matey. Chop ’er up an’ chuck ’er t’the sharks, I say!”

The infant pointed a chubby paw to the pair onshore. “Daddo, it be Mamam, I fink she want you!”

Kolun waved to his missus, shouting, “Ahoy, me heart’s delight, just ye wait there, me ole treasure chest. We’re headin’ in to port full speed!”

As the boat scraped the shallows, Deedero tapped her rudder impatiently upon the sand. “Move yoreself, Leatho Shellhound, there’s big trouble a-brewin’. This pretty maid’s got a message for ye!”

The outlaw sea otter sloshed through the shallows to her side. He smiled kindly at the ottermaid. “Yore all out o’ breath, me darlin’, an’ ye’ve been weepin’, too. Tell me now, wot is it?”

The ottermaid, a slave called Memsy, scrubbed at her eyes as she sobbed out the message. “Oh, Mister Shell’ound, sir.’Tis Whulky an’ Chab. They was caught this mornin’ early, taken by the weilmark an’ that marten beast. Lord Felis questioned them about where they’d been, but they wouldn’t speak nary a word. Oh oh, ’tis a terrible thing, those pore creatures!”

Taking Memsy by the shoulders, Leatho spoke softly. “There now, don’t go upsettin’ yoreself, beauty. ’Tis nought the Shellhound can’t sort out. Do ye know where that wildcat is keepin’ Whulky an’ Chab?”

Memsy strove to calm herself, but she shook like a leaf. “Tied under the pier in front of the fortress, sir. Both their wives an’ Chab’s three little ’uns are there, too. Lord Felis says that if they don’t talk afore tomorrow morn, they’ll be dragged off to Deeplough . . . an’ . . . an’ . . . throwed in to Slothunog. Oooohhhh!”

She fell to crying in earnest, and Deedero wrapped her comfortingly in her wide shawl, hugging her like a babe.

Leatho’s teeth ground audibly. He unwound his sling, muttering to Kolun in a voice tight with anger and urgency, “I’m goin’ on ahead to scout out the situation, mate. Get as many armed warriors an’ good swimmers as ye can from the clans. When ye come to meet me, do it as quiet as ye can. I’ll be lyin’ in the rushes, about a quarter way up the south edge o’ the lake. If’n I ain’t there, then stand by an’ keep yore heads low until I show up. Will ye do that?”

Big Kolun Galedeep picked up an oar and hefted it grimly. “Never fear, Leatho. I’ll pick a good crew out, an’ be on time to meet with ye. You go now, mate, an’ fortune go with ye!”

Chab and Whulky were moored by their necks and waists to the posts beneath the pier. Their wives and the three little ones were tethered several posts away, though only by a thick rope knotted about the otterwives’ shoulders, which still allowed them to hold the babes in their paws. Not knowing what they were guilty of, they stared at Chab and Whulky with wide, frightened eyes. Above them, feral catguards paced the boards on both sides of the pier. More could be seen patrolling the lakeshores.

Chab whispered to his companion, “I’d give my whiskers’n’rudder for an ould shellblade knife t’cut through these ropes. First thing I’d do would be t’free the wives an’ little’uns, so they could swim fer it!”

Whulky strained against the rope about his neck. “No, mate, keep still for the moment, an’ stow those wild ideas if’n ye ain’t got anythin’ to back ’em up with. If’n the wives an’ babes had t’make a run fer it, they wouldn’t stand a chance with all those catguards around. All we can do is to hope somebeast got word to the clans. If’n the Shellhound gets t’know, he won’t leave us t’be slain. I’d take an oath on that!”

A long, thin willow withe was pushed down between the spaces of the pierboards, swung by a cat with a whipping motion. The cane caught Chab a stinging blow to his cheek.

“Sharrap down there, or I’ll lay about the lot of ye, little’uns, too!”

Both Chab and Whulky knew who the voice belonged to: Scorecat Groodl, a minor officer, subordinate to Weilmark Scaut. Groodl was a brutal and sadistic cat, short in stature and savagely cruel to those beneath him, particularly slaves. He twitched the willow withe from side to side, taunting the prisoners.

“Not a peep out of any of ye now. ’Twould be a shame to deliver ye to Slothunog tomorrow, all cut’n’bruised. He likes his meat t’be tender an’ unmarked.”

He continued flicking them lightly with the long, whippy withe. It was some while before Groodl became bored by his callous sport and wandered off, leaving a guard of ordinary rank to watch the prisoners.

Chab’s wife bit her lip to stop a wail of anguish, now that she knew the fate that was in store for them. Angling his neck against the rope, Whulky gave her a confident wink in an effort to keep up her spirits.

“We won’t let anythin’ bad happen to ye, marm. Don’t fret,’twill only upset the little ’uns.”

Big Kolun Galedeep had gathered a crew of paw-picked otters: Streamdivers, Streambattles, Wavedogs and some of his own clan, about fifty in all. They were armed with light javelins, which had fire-hardened tips, and slings, with a few blades in evidence, but these were in short supply. They marched stealthily, with Kolun and his brother Lorgo leading them, to the thick tussocks of reed and rush on the south quarter of the lakeshore. Leatho was nowhere to be seen. They lay low and silent on Kolun’s orders.

They had not waited long when a telltale ripple on the lake surface came toward their hiding place. Banya Streamdog, a lithe ottermaid noted for her aquatic skills, pointed. “Lookit, here comes the very buckoe himself!”

Without a single splash, the Shellhound bounded out of the water into the rushes. He nodded a greeting to the crew before addressing Kolun. “Memsy was right, mate. I got up as close to the pier as I could without bein’ spotted. Sure enough, that hellcat Felis has got Whulky an’ Chab, an’ their families, too. They’re bound to the supportin’ posts. There was no sign o’ Felis about, but there’s enough catguards standin’ sentry an’ patrollin’ all around the area. Ye picked a fit-lookin’ crew there, Kolun. Well done!”

The big otter’s craggy face looked grim. He tightened his grip on the oar he had brought along. “Just give the word, mate, an’ we’ll storm ’em. There’ll be fur an’ catmeat flyin’ everywhere!”

Leatho patted his friend’s powerful shoulder. “Take it easy, buckoe! There’s far too many of ’em, we’d be slaughtered. Felis ain’t planned anythin’ for them otters ’til tomorrow morn. The way I sees it, there’s no point in us makin’ a move afore dusk. That gives me time aplenty to tell ye the plan I’ve hatched. Now lissen careful. We’ll free our friends, but this is wot ye must do!”

The long, hot morning rolled on into noontide, with the far lake margins shimmering and the surface lying still as a sheet of glass. With his aide Atunra in tow, the warlord emerged from the fortress onto the pier. He sat beneath his awning, enjoying the shade. Of late, he had shunned the dog days of summer; the chain mail mask could get uncomfortably hot in constant direct sunlight. Groodl came out and joined his catguards to watch the prisoners.

Atunra went over and had a brief exchange with the scorecat, returning to inform the warlord, “The otterslaves have still not spoken, Master.”

Riggu appeared unconcerned. “Then that is their bad fortune. Tomorrow I will use them as an example to the other slaves. Spectacles like that always keep our otters aware of their position. What’s a few slavebeasts to me? The hardestlearned lessons are always the most effective.”

The wildcat’s reflections were rudely interrupted by the sounds of yowling, screeching and clattering from within the fortress. Riggu sank his claws into the velvet-covered chair arms. He waited a while, but still the din did not subside.

From between clenched teeth, he issued an order to Atunra. “Take those guards with you. Go in there and bring those sons of mine out here to me! Drag them out here if ye have to! Enough is enough, I’ll put an end to all this spitting and snarling!”

Flanked by catguards, the two young cats were marched out to stand before their father. As usual, Jeefra was blubbering and Pitru scowling.

Jeefra began complaining tearfully to Riggu. “He said that when we go to Deeplough, he’s going to push me in so the monster can eat me, and he said that he’s going to. . . .”

A growling noise that had been welling up in the warlord suddenly exploded, cutting Jeefra short. “Yahaaarg! Shut . . . up!”

Jeefra was totally silenced by the vehemence of his father. Slowly Riggu Felis stood. He prowled about the pair in a circle, his voice dripping contempt.

“My sons, eh? A whining coward and an impertinent bully! You are a disgrace and a shame to the name Felis. I curse the day you were spawned, both of ye!”

He ceased prowling and stood facing them, eye to eye. A cold smile stole across the eyes above the half-mask. “Well, my spoilt little kittens, it all ends right here. Your growing up starts today.”

Riggu called to Groodl, who was watching from a short distance, “You there, attend me!”

Groodl marched smartly up, presenting his spear in salute. The warlord appeared to ignore him, speaking instead to Atunra. “Tell me about this one.”

The pine marten replied. “Master, he is Groodl, one of Weilmark Scaut’s scorecats.”

Riggu looked Groodl up and down critically. “A scorecat, eh? And do you instill rigid discipline into your guards with that willow cane you carry beside your spear?”

The mean-featured feral cat rapped out tersely, “I never gives an order twice, Lord. When I gives the word, they jumps to it, sharpish!”

Riggu Felis nodded approvingly. “Good, I like that. Well, scorecat, you have two new recruits in your troop as of now. Take these two useless objects out of my sight. See if you can knock them into shape. Have them fitted out as the lowest of your guards.”

He paused, watching the effect upon his sons. Jeefra looked stunned with shock, but Pitru narrowed his eyes lazily and gave a scornful snort. Riggu continued. “Show them no favours and cut them no slack. Use that willow cane on both of them. Let the order be lots of chores, little sleep and plenty of guard duty. Understood?”

Keeping his eyes straight ahead, Groodl swished the willow. “Understood, Lord. Do I bring ’em back to you an’ their mother every night?”

The chain mail tinkled as the warlord shook his head. “No no, let them live in the barracks with the other guards. If Lady Kaltag asks to see them, send her to me.”

Jeefra fell down weeping as he grovelled at his father’s footpaws. “Please, Father, I beg you, don’t do this to me! Don’t send me to the barracks! I swear I’ll change, no more quarrelling or arguing anymore. Mercy, please!”

Riggu Felis turned his face away, nodding to Groodl. “You’ve had your orders, take them away.”

Jeefra had to be carried bodily between four guards, wailing and sobbing brokenly. Pitru did not resist; he merely sneered at his father. “I still have lots of seasons before me, but you’re growing older. I can wait, you’ll see.”

Ignoring Groodl, he sauntered off toward the barracks. The wildcat chieftain was silent a moment, then pointed at Pitru’s receding back.

“Atunra, mark him well. That one will grow to be a dangerous beast someday.”

The pine marten bowed. “Just as you were at his age, Master.”

The chain mail half-mask sucked inward briefly. “Aye, that’s what troubles me.”

Sunset’s crimson curtain faded to dusk, merging into restful darkness. Lights appeared at the fortress turret slits. Two sentry fires burned bright, one to the left of the pier, the other to the right side. Held between the otterwives, Chab’s young ones were sleeping.

Banya Streamdog and six sturdy otters emerged from the waters beneath the pier, firelight playing off their sleek backs as they moved like night shades, with scarcely a ripple to betray their presence. Holding a paw to her lips, Banya made for the otterwives, whispering to them, “Wait and be ready when Lorgo gives the signal!”

Hope surged through Whulky and Chab as the tall, sinewy Lorgo Galedeep surfaced alongside them. “Stay put, mates. Ye can’t make a move until the action starts. Chab, don’t fret, bhoyo, I’ve brought some champion riverdogs to git yore babies away safe.”

Leatho Shellhound, accompanied by a dozen armed otters, stole from the lake, a short way from the left side of the pier. Directing them by signals, he sent his warriors in a long arc around to the darkness behind the fire. The outlaw set a stone to his sling and waited. Soon he was rewarded by the call of a nightjar from the right side of the pier. Big Kolun and his band had surfaced and were in position. Leatho whirled his sling, aiming at the backside of a catguard who was leaning on his spear close to the fire.

It was a perfect shot: The stone struck its target, not slaying the cat but creating the desired effect. Arching his back and yowling in pain, the catguard stumbled into the flames at the fire’s edge. His companions swiftly hauled him back, shouting out in confusion.

“That was a slingstone! What’s goin’ on?”

“Somebeast’s out there, look!”

The outlaw ran forward, whirling his sling as he yelled out a challenge. “Yerra, ye mangy scum, the Shellhound’s a-comin’!”

Guards jumped down from the pier to join the others. They advanced on Leatho cautiously, wondering if he had brought clanbeasts with him. The outlaw bolstered their confidence: He slung off a few more stones, carefully calculated to miss them. Roaring with laughter, he danced a jig on the lakeshore, then scampered off into the water.

One of the scorecats urged the rest forward, shouting to them, “It’s a single otter. Mad fool, what’s he up to? Get him!”

They charged forward but halted at the water’s edge. Aware that the cats were fearful of water, Leatho swam out a short way, then commenced taunting them.

“Come on, ye mangy-tailed cowards! Scared o’ gettin’ yore paws wet, are ye?”

Spears, lances and arrows were hurled at him. Right at the last moment he submerged, only to pop up again in another place.

“Is that the best ye can do? Send out yore best warrior! Hah, that’d be ole half-face, wouldn’t it? I hear he was defeated by a bird—was it a sparrow or a wren?!”

Whilst the diversion was being created, Leatho’s crew came out of the firelight and began attacking the catguards’ rear. Roused by the commotion, Riggu Felis bounded out onto the pier, single-bladed axe in paw. He was accompanied by Weilmark Scaut, who recognised Leatho’s voice. “It’s the Shellhound, I’ve got a score t’settle with that ’un!”

The warlord dropped on all fours, peering through the board spaces to assure himself that the captives were still there, bound to the pier struts. Straightening up, he growled, “Then get down there and take him alive, Scaut. Alive, d’ye hear me? Get some of those otterslave fishing boats and cut him off, encircle him. But remember, I want him alive!”

As the weilmark went off to do his bidding, Riggu Felis turned to Groodl and his guards, who were grouped around the fire on the right lakeshore. “Over here, quick, all of you. Follow Weilmark Scaut!”

Jeefra and Pitru, newly fitted out with helmets, jerkins and spears, were among the group who hurried off to the left.

As soon as the fire on the right was deserted, Big Kolun and his crew emerged from the shadows, thrusting their torches into the flames. Then they began hurling them at the huge timber fortress. Riggu Felis leaped aside as a blazing torch landed on the pier close to him. With his chain mail mask glittering weirdly in the light of the flames, he called urgently to the guards deployed on the left shore.

“Scaut, get your command back over here! They’re trying to fire the other side of the fortress!”

The weilmark was loth to leave the outlaw Shellhound uncaptured. He issued swift orders to Groodl. “Scorecat, keep half your cats on shore, send the rest out in the boats. Remember, he must be taken alive. The rest of you, follow me!”

The otters they had been fighting suddenly dispersed into the darkness, leaving Scaut’s contingent a free path back. Jeefra and Pitru both wielded paddles in one of the six fishing coracles on the lake. In unexperienced paws, the little craft blundered about as Leatho drew them away in a wild chase.

Once the left shore was clear of guards, the otters came out of the shadows again. Making for the fire, they did exactly as Kolun and his crew had. Igniting more torches from the blaze, they hurled them at the left side of the fortress, causing widespread confusion.

Riggu Felis was screeching hoarsely as he ran hither and thither. “Over here, some of you! Scaut, split your troop, get half of them around to the left side. Hurry!”

Lorgo Galedeep and Banya Streamdog slashed through the captives’ bonds. In the chaos which reigned overhead, prisoners were the last thing on any foebeast’s mind. Chab’s young ones were strapped firmly to the backs of three champion Streambattle swimmers.

Banya and a few of her clanmates surrounded the two otterwives. “Don’t forget now, underwater an’ straight out. Follow the three carryin’ yore little ’uns. They’ll take ye over to the right shore. We’ve spotted a landin’ place there that’s well away from this lot, quiet an’ hidden. Move now, there ain’t much time t’waste!”

Lorgo and some of his stalwarts pushed Chab and Whulky after them. “Follow Banya. No need t’look back, we’re right behind ye, mateys!”

Out on the lake, Leatho was keeping the coracles chasing after him, making sure they held to the left shore, where he knew they would not come into contact with the escaping slaves.

Groodl was shouting orders to his coracle crews from the shore. “Don’t throw those spears, idiots! Hold on to ’em and try to stab ’im. You guards with bows, don’t go shootin’ at shadows, try t’get a clear target. D’ye hear me?”

What they did not know was that there were now eight otters in the water, not just one. They began popping up in different places, taking turns at mocking the catguards.

“Ahoy there, scruffywhiskers, I’m over here!”

“Ye don’t want him, fishbrain, I’m the one yore lookin’ for!”

“Belay there, I’m the Shellhound, not that ’un!”

Water sloshed over the sides of the flimsy craft as they wallowed about on the dark lake. Guards wobbled to keep their balance as they hurled spears and fired arrows willy-nilly, completely ignoring their scorecat’s orders as they sought to silence their foes.

Groodl was hopping and leaping about in the shallows, ranting hoarsely, “Ye bunglin’ mudheads, they’re makin’ fools of ye!”

Atunra came hurrying from the pier with Riggu’s latest order. “Lord Felis says you must break off searching for Shellhound. Call those boats in immediately. We need everybeast on the bucket line!”

Catguards were passing buckets, jugs, bowls and pails, paw to paw, in a line which stretched from the pier end to the fortress. Water hissed and sizzled as they threw it on the flames around the base of the fortress. The guards in the coracles had been lured a fair way out onto the lake. They were only too glad when they heard their scorecat yelling for them to return to shore.

Leatho surfaced and almost bumped heads with Kolun. The big fellow was grinning from ear to ear. “Felis ain’t holdin’ prisoners no more, buckoe. Our crews got ’em well away an’ safe. What now?”

The outlaw nodded toward the retreating coracles. “Let’s teach a few o’ those landlubbers a lesson!”

Big Kolun shot them a scornful glance. “My babes make a better shape at rowin’ than that lot!”

Only three vessels made it to the safety of land. Between them, the two otters overturned the other three. Yowls, splashes and splutters of cats rent the night air as they were tipped into the water. Leatho and Kolun swam smoothly off, satisfied that their plan to free their otterfriends had succeeded.

The last craft that the otters had tipped upside down was the one containing Jeefra and Pitru. Both cats went under immediately, but Pitru was the first to surface. He hauled himself up onto the hull of the coracle and grabbed a paddle from the water. He had made scarcely a stroke shoreward when the vessel heeled, lurching perilously over to one side. Jeefra had a tight hold of it, digging his claws into the birchbark covering as he strove wildly to pull himself aboard. He was in a mad panic, choking and spluttering between mouthfuls of water.

“Help me, help! Don’t let me drown, Pitru!”

Pitru glanced around at the other survivors. They were all floundering toward land, oblivious to what was going on behind them. Pitru bared his fangs as he brought the paddle down twice, as hard as he could—the first time, on Jeefra’s paws and the second on Jeefra’s head.

Throwing the paddle away, Pitru flattened himself on the upturned hull, staring into the dark waters that Jeefra had disappeared under. Then he began paddling landward with his paws, crying out pitifully, “Jeefra, where are you? Has anybeast seen my poor brother?”

Riggu Felis had spoken truly when he had said that one day his son would become a dangerous beast.