The Rogue Crew

33

The defenders on the walltop above the gates felt the rampart stonework shudder as the big ship was forced, under the storm’s momentum, right through into the Abbey. Skor and his Rogue Crew were already racing in pursuit of Greenshroud as it rattled over the lawns.

Captain Rake hastily ordered the hares and shrews, “On the double now, down intae the grounds!”

Inside, the Abbey walls became a scene of wild and stormy chaos. However, the only positive action of the moment came from Skor’s son Ruggan. Speedily he caught up with the ship’s stern, grabbing hold of a line, which trailed after it. With his sword clenched in his teeth, Ruggan hauled himself nimbly upward, finding holds for his footpaws as he went. The ship was on its set course, heading for the main Abbey door. The daring young otter had already noticed this. With a bound, he vaulted over the stern rail, almost bumping into a startled searat, whom he despatched with a swift sword thrust.

Ruggan slashed the lashings, which had been holding Greenshroud on course. Gale-force winds caught the rudder, causing the tiller to swing loose so the vessel yawed, running off course. It heeled broadside on to the storm, slamming hard into a huge, ancient elm, which brought the ship to a shuddering halt. The crew were knocked flat but quickly recovered as Razzid hurried amongst them. He bellowed orders through the sheeting rain.

“Loose the riggin’! Throw all ropes over the side—use’em to abandon ship. Quick now!”

Searats and corsairs promptly obeyed, swarming down over the lines to the saturated lawns below. Skor Axehound and his Rogue Crew charged to meet the foebeast. They were far outnumbered by enemies, but Skor was of the opinion that one good sea otter was worth any five vermin.

The Wearat, garbed in his iron-spiked helmet and a thick red cloak, stood at the centre of his crew as they fought to repel the otters.

Rake sized the situation up before he threw his fighters into the fray. He formed a swift strategy. “Most o’ the vermin got off on the side which wasnae hit by the tree. So we’ll circle aroond an’ board the ship on the other side, eh, Dandy!”

Log a Log Dandy smiled grimly. “Good idea, Cap’n. ’Twill put us up on deck so we can come down behind ’em! There ain’t too many came down on our side—about two to one, I’d say. Come on, me buckoes, let’s give the scum some steel!”

It was no easy task, as the vermin had their backs to the ship’s side, facing Rake’s warriors. Hares and shrews knew enough not to warn the rest of Greenshroud’s vermin, so they fought without war cries, in savage silence.

Rake went at it with twin claymores flailing. Behind him came Sergeant Miggory, who had picked up a fallen spear. Log a Log Dandy and Lieutenant Scutram attacked from both sides, fore and aft, with rapier and sabre flashing. Churned up by rain and fighters, the lawn around them became a welter of mud. Both sides battled for their very lives, with no quarter given as steel clashed upon steel.

Lancejack Sage became surrounded by four of the foe. She took a knife throw in her shoulder as they closed in on her. A corsair ferret raised a scimitar as he leaned over the young hare. He snarled wickedly, “Haharr, time ta die, rabbet!”

He was about to slash down at Sage with the broad curved blade when a long oarshaft swept across, breaking his skull. Ruggan Axehound, leaning over the ship’s side, swung the oar again, wiping out the life of a searat. Big Drander and Buff Redspore fought their way to the lancejack’s side. As Buff stanched the wound in Sage’s shoulder, Drander leaned over, shielding them both with his body. He winked at Sage.

“Steady on, old gel. We’ll soon have ye up’n’about, wot!”

The breath was knocked from both haremaids when Drander suddenly slumped on top of them, a spear embedded deep between his shoulders.

Lieutenant Scutram slew the spear thrower with a hefty sabre slash. The ferocity of Long Patrol hares and Guosim shrews was so swift and ruthless that the vermin fled willy-nilly.

The shrew Chieftain chased after a corsair stoat; he despatched his quarry and divested him of his footwear, chuckling grimly. “Hahah! So this is the villain who stole my clogs!” Donning them, he skipped back to the ship, clicking both heels and sending sparks about.

“Ahoy, Rake, lookit me! I’m Log a Log Dandy Clogs agin!”

The tall Captain smiled momentarily. “Och, an’ so ye are, bonny lad. Right, all aboard, buckoes!”

On the other side of the vessel, Skor Axehound and his warriors found themselves outnumbered and hard pressed. Razzid Wearat stood at the centre of his crew, urging them forward in a bid to wipe out the otters and gain entry to the Abbey building.

Skor battled stoically on, ignoring minor wounds, the red light of Bloodwrath blazing in his eyes. Being outnumbered had never bothered the Warchief of the High North Coast. From where he stood, Razzid could see Skor. He was not anxious to cross steel with the big sea otter, so he drove the vermin hard, feeling that they could soon overwhelm the defenders. By then the heroic chieftain, wielding his mighty battleaxe amidst the storm-rent night, would doubtless be wounded many times.

Razzid sneered as he imagined himself finishing Skor off slowly with the trident. However, the sight of his mortal enemy seemed to send Skor into a frenzy. He beckoned with his axe, bellowing, “Don’t hide there in the middle of yore crew, dribblesnout! Come an’ get yore ugly head chopped off. I’ll stick it on that ole pitchfork ye call a weapon. How’ll that do ye, eh?”

Bloodwrath kept welling up in Skor Axehound’s eyes. He hurled himself into the vermin ranks, regardless of the wounds he was taking in his attempts to reach Razzid. The sight brought fear to the Wearat; he started retreating through his crew. He was almost at the rear when Shekra appeared at his side, urgently tugging his cloak.

“Lord, look behind you!”

“Eulaliiiaaaaa!”

“Logalogalogalooooog!”

Long Patrol hares and Guosim swarmed down Greenshroud’s side, cutting off any escape. Razzid’s cunning now came to the fore. He scanned the gale-swept night, finding a way out. Grabbing a burly ferret corsair, he gave him his helmet and cloak. “Here, mate, put these on. Lead our crew forward. I’ve got a plan that’ll win this battle for us. I’ll reward ye special like when Redwall’s ours!”

Led by Rake and Dandy, the fighters fell upon the rear vermin ranks. Razzid tore himself loose from Shekra. Crouching down, he scuttled off toward the shelter of the orchard. The vixen stumbled and fell. Looking up, she found herself staring into the wrathful face of Trug Bawdsley.

Throwing away her blade, she pleaded, whining piteously, “Mercy, sire, mercy. Can’t ye see I’m unarmed?”

Trug swung his sword, gritting out the words. “Aye, I’ll show ye mercy, just as ye did to my young sister an’ her friends the night ye murdered them!”

The young hare’s words echoed in the Seer’s head. It was the last voice she ever heard.

Skor, Dandy and Rake were in a racing fight to reach the cloaked and helmeted figure who was now at the centre of the melee. The disguised corsair panicked at the sight of the battleaxe-wielding sea otter closing in on him. He turned, meeting Captain Rake, who was swinging his twin claymores like a drum major—it was a fatal mistake. The corsair dropped like a log under the whirling blades.

At the sight of the legendary Wearat going down, all fighting ceased for a brief instant. The iron-spiked war helmet rolled off onto the sodden grass as Log a Log Dandy bounded up to crouch over the fallen one.

“Blood’n’whiskers! This un ain’t no Wearat. We’ve been fooled!”

Mowlag took advantage of the lull. He grabbed Jiboree, not having heard what Dandy had said.

“Well, that saved us a job, mate. Quick now, we’ll split up an’ conquer the Abbey between us. Keep out the way o’ those madbeasts if’n ye can. Let’s scatter an’ regroup later.”

Vermin fled in all directions. The defenders gathered round the dead corsair.

Skor was whirling about in baffled rage. “Wot d’ye mean, not the Wearat? I saw Rake slay him!”

Dandy stood aside from the limp carcass. “Take a look for yoreself, bigbeast. That ain’t Razzid!”

Skor thudded his battleaxe blade deep in the wet earth. “Then where’s the bilge-blighted scum got to, eh?”

Lieutenant Scutram ignored him, calling out orders. “Get after the vermin! Stop ’em gangin’ up again before they try to break into the bloomin’ Abbey! Sergeant, take charge, will ye!”

Miggory bawled out commands in true parade-ground style. “Yew ’eard the h’officah—git movin’! Patrol, follow Cap’n Rake, h’otters go with yore chieftain. Guosim, go with yore Log a Log. Quick as y’like, now!”

Hearing the din of warfare outside, the screams of wounded and dying beasts, mingled with barbarous war cries, did not boost the composure of young Uggo Wiltud.

He paced back and forth, guarding the Abbey’s main door, trying hard to look fearless. Martin the Warrior’s great sword quivered in his paws, seeming too heavy to hold much longer. He was letting the blade lag when a light tap on his back caused him to jump. However, it was only his friend, the pretty hogmaid.

Uggo berated her shrilly. “Posy, you ain’t supposed t’be up here. Get back down to Cavern Hole with the Redwallers!”

Posy pushed him aside. Putting her eye to the door, she tried to peer through a crack near the hinges. “I only wanted to see what’s going on out there. Are we winning, Uggo?”

He pulled her from the door, his voice shaking as he tried to be stern. “You’ve got no business bein’ here. Guardin’ this Abbey door’s my job. Abbot Thibb left me in charge!”

Posy rapped the imposing oak timbers with her paw. “Well, there’s not much danger of vermin getting past this. What about the other doors an’ windows? Are they all locked up tight and secured? You should check.”

Uggo turned to continue his sentry duty and almost tripped over the blade of his sword. “Guard the door—that’s all Father Abbot said.”

Posy shook her head impatiently. “Well, I’m sure he never meant just this door. There’s lots more side doors and shuttered windows to this Abbey, Uggo. If they broke in anywhere else, you’d look pretty silly marching up and down in one place. Come on!”

Trying to maintain his dignity, Uggo strode off in an effort to outpace Posy. “Huh, suppose I’d better just take a look around.”

They were crossing the floor of Great Hall when Milda the volemaid came hurrying toward them. “Oh, sir, you’d best make ’aste. I think there’s somebeast tryin’ to break in. Come an’ see for yoreself!” She ran off, with Uggo and Posy close behind her.

The gale-force wind slackened off, and rain slowed to a fine drizzle as Razzid Wearat made his way through the dark orchard. Hearing the sounds of an affray, he threw himself down beside an overturned wheelbarrow. A fleeing group of about a dozen vermin had been overtaken by Ruggan and some Rogue Crew otters who had outrun them. They were dealing out retribution.

Though the vermin fought desperately, they were no match for their ferocious adversaries. Razzid watched as the otters backed their foes up against a bramble hedge. Battering his swordblade against his shield, Ruggan howled like a madbeast, “Bloody yore blades an’ send ’em to Hellgates, mates! Yaylahoooooo!”

Seething with rage, Razzid watched as his crewbeasts were slaughtered, though some escaped by crashing through the hedge. They fled off into the grounds, with sea otters hard on their tails, thirsting for vermin blood.

When they had gone, Razzid was about to rise, but somebeast flopped down beside him. He whirled his trident to deal with the intruder.

“Yaagh, don’t ’urt me, Cap’n—’tis only ole Badtooth!”

Razzid grounded the trident, staring at Greenshroud’s cook. “I thought you’d ha’ been long dead.”

The fat weasel gave a gap-fanged grin.

“Not me, Cap’n. I might be fat, but I’m too quick an’ greasy t’get meself slayed. I thought you was a goner. Wotcher doin’ round ’ere, stealin’ apples?”

Razzid ignored the joke, nodding toward the Abbey. “I’m lookin’ for a way to git in there. Any ideas?”

Badtooth shrugged. “Who, me? I wouldn’t know where t’start, Cap’n. Wait up, kin ye smell somethin’?”

Razzid sniffed the air as Badtooth answered his own question. “Cookin’, I kin smell cookin’. Smells nice, too.”

The Wearat nodded. “Yore right, the kitchens must be somewhere about. They must have a kitchen window or a door. That’ll be it—come with me, matey.”

Avoiding one or two other skirmishes between defenders and crewbeasts, they crossed the vegetable plots. Redwall Abbey loomed large through the damp night.

Razzid pointed with his trident at a thin, pale shaft of golden light piercing the darkness at about waist height. “There, see? Let’s take a look, mate.”

It was a shuttered window. Badtooth put his nose to the crack, sniffing blissfully. “New-baked bread, an’ scones, too, if’n I ain’t mistook. Mmmmm, they certainly knows about cookin’ in there, Cap’n.”

Razzid pulled him from the window, flinging him to the ground. “Shut yer slobberin’ gob an’ stay outta my way!” Inserting the prongs of his trident into the gap between shutter and stonework, he pried it silently wider.

Crouching, he put his good eye to the gap.

Badtooth sat up eagerly. “Can ye see anythin’, Cap’n?”

Razzid murmured, almost to himself, “Not much, just some sacks an’ a stone wall. There’s stuff hangin’ from nails. Herbs an’ veggibles, I s’pose. No, wait, hush, somebeast’s comin’.”

Friar Wopple could be heard calling out, “Bring some onions, an’ a bunch of parsley, too, Brugg.”

A moment later a mole appeared, answering, “Bunions an’ parsee, marm, roight away.” Taking the vegetables, the mole went away.

Razzid whispered to Badtooth, “It’s a storeroom leadin’ out into the kitchen. Ye couldn’t find a better place to break in, eh, mate?”

The fat cook looked distinctly nervous. “Cap’n, mightn’t it be better if’n I waited out ’ere? I ain’t never done no breakin’ in—”

The Wearat’s claw actually pierced Badtooth’s ear as he dragged him close, gritting the words out. “You gotta choice, lardtub—either come inside with me or stay outside here, after I slit yore throat.”

The weasel cook gulped. “I’m with ye, Cap’n!”

Jamming the trident prongs under the gap between sill and shutter, Razzid began trying to pry it outward. It was a heavy oaken shutter and refused to budge. The Wearat had several attempts at the shutter, even having Badtooth prying with him, but it was a futile task. Removing the trident, he leaned on it, breathing heavily as he surveyed the window as a whole.

Badtooth was immensely relieved. “Ye’ll break yore trident on that shutter, Cap’n. Let’s go back to that orchard place. We could lie low an’ eat all sorts o’ fruit’n’berries.”

The trident butt struck him hard in the stomach, bending him double. Razzid hissed fiercely, “I’m goin’ to split that shutter through its middle. So stand clear, an’ keep yore slobberin’ trap shut!”

The trident prongs thudded into the shutter’s centre. Razzid began wresting it free, giving Badtooth an order. “Look through that crack at the bottom after I strike it. Tell me if’n the coast’s still clear, right?”

Badtooth peered beneath the gap. “Nobeast must’ve’eard anythin’. All clear, Cap’n.”

Razzid battered the shutter with his trident points several times. The wood began to splinter and crack.

Next time Badtooth went to look, he had something to report. “Hold on, Cap’n. One o’ those mouse things, a vole, I think, has just come in. I think it musta heard ye. . . . No, wait, now it’s gone away. All clear agin!”

Razzid dealt the shutter another shuddering blow, then crouched down to look for himself. He chuckled wickedly. “There’s a whole pile of ’em come to see wot the noise is about. Huh, cooks an’ kitchen skivvies, they look scared out o’ their wits. I’ll give ’em somethin’ t’be scared of. You keep an eye out for any wavedogs or rabbets!”

He attacked the shutter with renewed vigour, causing further damage as the old timber creaked and splintered.

Friar Wopple stopped her workers from crowding into the storeroom.

The mole Brugg looked anxiously to the Friar. “Hurr, wot’ll uz do, marm?”

Never having been faced with a vermin attack, Wopple was frightened. However, she tried to stay calm and reassure her helpers. “Stay back, please. I’ve sent Milda to bring a warrior who can deal with this. Oh, dear, look at that!”

The shutter trembled as it was struck again. This time three sharp metal prongs burst through.

Razzid went at it in a frenzy. Thud! Whump! Bang! Crash!

Between blows, he issued instructions to the fat cook. “When the shutter bursts, you get right in there. Kill the nearest one, then jump to one side. I’ll be straight in behind ye. Unnerstand?”

Badtooth saluted miserably. “Aye aye, Cap’n!”

Two more thunderous strikes, and the shutter collapsed, falling inward and leaving the window open to the night drizzle, with both vermin waiting outside. Razzid prodded Badtooth with the trident.

“Right, mate, in ye go!”