Doomwyte (5 page)

It was Bisky’s turn to snort at the big Cellarhog. “Well, thanks for shouting it out, I almost had it before you started yelling. Rubies, eh.”

Corksnout shuffled his huge footpaws. “Sorry, I got excited. Go on, you can have the next one.”

Dwink looked baffled. “Wot next one?”

Samolus whispered in his ear, “I’d guess it’d be ‘red meals.’”

Dwink murmured out of the side of his mouth, “Why d’you guess that?”

Bisky had been eavesdropping; he grinned from ear to ear. “Ha ha, I know wot ’tis without puttin’ the letters in any circles. It’s emeralds!”

The Abbot’s expression was one of complete surprise. “Great seasons, how did you guess that so quickly?”

The young mouse winked broadly. “It just suddenly came to me, Father. Rubies was the first one. We’re looking for red stones and green stones, two of each. So I thought, rubies are red, what jewels are green? I looked at the words
red meals
, and it sprang out at me. Emeralds!”

Corksnout rubbed his big paws together in a businesslike manner. “C’mon, c’mon, wot’s next, mates?”

Samolus read the next line out. “‘Two bruise and two mere lads, where are the nests O?’ Give me that charcoal and I’ll write it down. I think ‘two bruise’ first, eh, Father?”

Abbot Glisam looked secretly pleased. “Don’t write ‘two bruise,’ just ‘bruise’ on its own. In fact I’ve got it, no need to write it down—”

Dwink sprang up. “Bruise, buries, same letters. It’s rubies again.”

Bisky chuckled. “So it is. Two rubies and two mere lads. Hah, mere lads. Sounds like an anagram of red meals. Emeralds! Two rubies and two emeralds. What’s the rest? ‘Where are the nests O?’”

Corksnout puffed out his chest, declaring, “That ole Prince Gonff wasn’t so smart, tryin’ to baffle brains like ours. Huh, rubies an’ emeralds are jewels, they’re precious. ‘Nests O!’ My grannie’s spikes, that’s stones, precious stones!”

Gullub Gurrpaw left off reading the mole scrolls and took his friend severely to task. “Oi wishes ee’d stop a-showtin’ owt ee arnswers an’ give they’m young uns a charnce, zurr. They’m’ll lurn nawthen iffen ee doan’t give ’em no h’oppertunery!”

Corksnout was mortified. He sniffed so hard that he unseated his false nose, almost swallowing it. Stalking off down the cellar floor, he called huffily, “I was only tryin’ to help, but I’ll get on with me own work, there’s plenty for me to do, thankee!”

Umfry pointed an accusing paw at Gullub. “You’ve h’upset ’im now, Mister Gurrpaw!”

The mole gave a gruff bass chuckle. “Eem doan’t loike wurkin’ alone wi’ cumpany abowt. Ole Corky’ll coom back anon, mark moi wurd, zurr!”

Dwink wriggled excitedly. “Just one more line to solve!”

Abbot Glisam read the final segment out. “‘A pincer those five hid them well.’”

Umfry began to complicate the issue. “Five ’idden well! Wot five, h’I thought we was h’only searchin’ for four stones. H’another thing, wot’s h’a pincer doin’ h’in this riddle?”

Corksnout must have been listening. He called out from the corner where he was working, “I’ve got a fine pair of pincers, for grippin’ hot iron hoops when I ’ammers ’em into shape!”

Gullub smiled as he shouted back to his friend. “They’m pincers bees called tongs, zurr!”

The big Cellarhog strolled back to join them. He was wielding a pair of tongs. “Well, I’ve allus called ’em pincers, just like my dad did.”

To avoid further argument, the Abbot agreed. “I knew your dad, so if he said they were pincers, that’s good enough for me. Pincers they are!”

Corksnout donned his tiny glasses again, peering at the line on the page. “A pincer those five hid them well? That says
pincer
, not
pincers.
Wot are ye babblin’ about pincers for?”

Without any warning there was a panicked squeak from outside the cellars. The young squirrelmaid Perrit came tumbling in, flinging her apron over her face, a sure sign of distress in little maids. She shrilled at them, “Eeeek! Father Abbot, Mister Sam’lus, come quickly!” She started running willy-nilly, but Corksnout swept her up in his strong paws.

“Now now, missie, wot’s all the fuss about?”

Perrit peeked over her apron hem, she began babbling like a brook. “Oh, sirs, Skipper Rorgus says for you to come to the big gate right away ’cos carrying birds tried to steal likkle Dugry!

The entire party went thundering up the cellar steps and across Great Hall. Samolus panted to Bisky as they ran together for the main Abbey door, “Carrying birds? I think the young un must’ve meant carrion birds. The robbin’ scum!”

Slamming the doors open wide, they rushed out onto the rainswept lawns. Across at the outer threshold gate there were several creatures grouped about something. Running just behind Bisky and Samolus, Umfry Spikkle hooted out in alarm. “Hoi! Who opened the main gates, get ’em shut!”

Molebabe Dugry was being comforted by Sister Violet, who had the little fellow wrapped in a shawl, rocking him to and fro. “There there now, my dearie, the big, nasty bird has gone. Shame on him, tryin’ to steal you away like that!”

Dugry seemed none the worse for his ordeal. He jabbed the air with a tiny paw, yelling gruffly, “Eem gurt naughty burd carried Oi roight h’up inna sky. Roight, roight ’igh h’up Oi go’d!”

Abbot Glisam arrived panting. He leant on Skipper, gasping for breath. “Whoo! What’s been going on here?”

The Otter Chieftain pointed to the glittering bundle of dark plumage, slumped in the gateway. “’Twas a crow, Father, big, ugly bird. Tried to fly off with one of our Dibbuns.”

Samolus ventured close to the bird. “Never heard o’ that afore. Wot stopped it?”

Skipper Rorgus nodded to the gatehouse door. “He did, right in the nick o’ time, too.”

The door opened to reveal a mountain hare, clad in a green-and-lilac plaid kilt and tunic, with silver buttons at cuffs and collar. His fur was patched white and tan. Slung on his back was an odd instrument, resembling a fiddle. In one paw he carried a short, curved bow, fashioned from bone. The hare strode languidly over to the fallen bird. He turned the carcass over with a deft shove of one massive footpaw. There was a slim, flightless metal rod protruding from the crow’s chest. Placing his footpaw on the dead bird, the hare tugged until the rod came free. With a grimace of distaste he tossed the rod to Bisky.

“Here, laddie, would ye be sae kind as tae wipe ma arrow clean, Ah cannae abide dirty shafts!” From the lace ruffles at the hem of his tunic sleeve, he drew forth a daintily embroidered silk kerchief which gave off the scent of heather and lilac. Wiping it fastidiously over the paw which had held the metal rod, he twirled the kerchief, making an elaborate bow as he introduced himself. “Guid day to ye, even though the weather is a wee bit inclement. Ah’m the Laird Bosie McScutta o’ Bowlaynee, at y’service!”

The Abbot inclined a brief bow in return. “My pleasure, m’Laird, I am Glisam, Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey. My thanks for your brave and prompt action in saving the life of a Redwaller.”

Accepting the cleaned-up shaft from Bisky, the hare slotted it into a built-in quiver, which formed the arm of his fiddle-like instrument. He shook Glisam’s paw. “Ach, away with all that m’Laird stuff, ye can call me Bosie, or just plain hungry. D’ye no serve afternoon tea at this place?”

Glisam smiled. “Forgive me, of course we do, Bosie. Come, you’ll be our honoured guest for what you’ve done. I hope little Dugry has thanked you.”

Bosie set out for the Abbey, paw in paw with Glisam. “Land sakes, there’s no need for that. Ah wouldnae be much o’ a Warrior Minstrel if Ah let a crow scoot off with a wee molebairn. Ah was comin’ doon the path outside when Ah heard the ruckus. Then who should be flappin’ o’er yon wall but a roguey of a crow, with the bold, wee Dugry in his bill. So Ah dropped him wi’ a single shaft. Bein’ a thrifty beast, Ah never use more than one arrow on carrion like yon rascal. So, this is the braw Redwall Abbey. Ah’ve heard lot’s o’ guid things aboot it, especially the vittles.”

The Abbot squeezed his new friend’s paw. “I pride myself on saying that you won’t be disappointed, Bosie!”

Back at the gate, Umfry was about to lock up, when Corksnout indicated the slain bird. “Don’t shut yore gate yet. Lend a paw to sling this one into the ditch, the insects will make short work of him. I ain’t hangin’ about to dig holes for villains. You take the talons, an’ I’ll take the head. C’mon, young Dwink, you, too, grab a wing. Bisky, you get the other wing. Right, lift!”

As they manoeuvred the carcass across the path, which ran north to south outside the Abbey, Corksnout spoke. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’ about that word,
pincer.
I’ll tell ye wot I think, it’s an anagram of Prince.”

Umfry chuckled. “Yore a clever ole grandad, I would ’ave never guessed that, would you, Dwink?”

The young squirrel replied airily, “Oh, I prob’ly would have, sooner or later. Wot are you grinnin’ about, Bisky?”

His friend’s grin became even wider. “I’ve solved it, or at least I think I have. Thanks for guessing that pincer was really Prince, Mister Spikkle. Right, let’s put it all together, this is how it goes….”

They paused on the edge of the ditch, listening as the young mouse explained.

“‘The bird has no rubies, the snake has no emeralds, two rubies and two emeralds, where are the stones? A prince of thieves hid them well!’ That’s it!”

Corksnout grasped Bisky’s paw and shook it heartily. “Yore right, young un, those two words after pincer, or Prince,
those five
, they’re an anagram which comes out as…of thieves. But how did ye guess?”

Bisky explained, “I just kept repeatin’ the lines as we’d solved them. Then when you said Prince, it all fell into place!”

The big Cellarhog cautioned them both. “Now don’t ye go tellin’ ole Gullub that I solved the pincer word, or he’ll be gettin’ all in a tizzy with me, moles are funny creatures sometimes, y’know.”

Dwink released his hold on the dead bird. “I wish we had a mole with us now, I’ll wager he’d dig a hole for this villain quick enough.”

Umfry shook rainwater from his spikes. “We h’aint diggin’ a buryin’ ’ole, are we, Grandad?”

Corksnout shook his head so emphatically that his false nose wound up behind his ear. “We certainly ain’t! I’ll toss him in the ditch, wot the insects don’t get will be gone by tomorrow. This rain’ll flood the ditch an’ wash everythin’ away.” He tipped the saturated jumble of feathers that had once been a crow over the edge of the ditch. Marching away without a backward glance, Corksnout called to the young ones, “Best put a move on, or afternoon tea’ll be all gone.”

Umfry hurried to catch him up. “Er, why’s that?”

His grandfather was well versed in the habits of other beasts. “’Cos we got a hare to feed, have ye ever seen one o’ those lollop-pawed rascals scoffin’ vittles?” The three young friends confessed that they had not. Corksnout stepped up his pace. “Well ye’ve got a surprise in store!”

When they had gone, the dead crow stirred, but not of its own volition. Two other carrion crows that it had landed on top of emerged from the ditch, leaving their slain comrade. They were part of the mission to kidnap a Redwaller. Shaking mud from his plumage, the smaller of the two spoke fearfully.

“Kraaah, we cannot go back and tell Leader Veeku that his plan failed.”

The larger crow disagreed. “Yakkarr, we have more to report. Did you not hear the earthcrawlers tell how a Prince of Thieves stole the Eyes of the Doomwyte? They must be hidden inside the big stone house!”

The smaller bird blinked his quick, dark eyes. “Karray, you are right, brother, we will tell him this!”

A moment later they were two dark shapes, flapping off into the pounding rain.

Beyond the great cave, which contained the eyeless statue, lay another cavern. Not as large as the main chamber, but still of an impressive size. This was the inner sanctum of Korvus Skurr, and his serpent, Sicariss. The interior was silent, save for the constant dripping of water. Firefly lanterns and smouldering torches made it a place of sinister elongated shadows. The climate was more temperate—it was not suffused by green mists from a volcanic pool. However, it did boast its own expanse of water, deep, still and icy cold.

The raven tyrant perched on a rock, overlooking the subterranean lake. He stared down into its translucent depths, watching the pale, sightless fish and other small reptilian denizens which dwelt there.

The snake, coiled on Korvus’s head, stared unblinkingly at the long, sinuous bulk which was threading upward through the water. “Sssseeee, our Welzzz comesssss.”

Even the tyrant, Korvus Skurr, was cautious of the monster fish. He drew back slightly from the edge of the rock on which he was squatting.

The fish was truly an impressively hideous sight. It was a wels, that fearsome giant member of the catfish family. It halted, staring up at the bird and snake, its mighty length trailing down into the icy waters. Two wide-spaced eyes, twin black beads, ever on the watch for prey, loomed close to the surface. The wide, blubbery, blue-tinged lips, moving constantly, opening and closing, caused two long barbels on the upper jaw to move in concert with the four lesser ones beneath the lower lip. The monstrous fish stayed momentarily hanging there, its fins rotating slowly. Then it leapt clear of the pool arching as it sped back down. A pale, plump frog, which had strayed too close, vanished into the big fish’s jaws.

Korvus peered at the reflection of Sicariss in the pool. “Did Welzz speak again?”

The smoothsnake reared slightly, so that it was looking into the raven’s eyes. “He ssspoke asss alwayssss, of our ancessstorsss, Rigvar Sssskurr and Ssssumisssss!”

The raven’s voice was flat and harsh. “Ayakk! Are we forever to bear the guilt of the blinded Doomwyte? The dust of seasons and the mists of time have long blown away. Our fathers’ fathers could not even recall when Rigvar Skurr and Sumiss were alive, why should we?”

Sicariss adjusted her coils, tightening briefly around the head of her host. “Becausse they were the onessss who let the eyessss be sssstolen. It isss we who musssst get them back.”

With a quick, angry movement, the raven pecked one of the snake’s coils, which was close to his beak. This caused Sicariss to relax the pressure on Korvus’s head. She hissed soothingly, “We have done more than any other before usss. For do we not know the name of the thief who ssstole the eyesss? Prince Gonff, a mere earthcrawler.”

The raven tyrant groomed his breast plumage irately, shifting the snake’s grey-brown coils as he did. “Aye, a mousethief, thousands of seasons gone now. All we have is stories told by other young earthcrawlers in the Redstone house. Mayhaps more will come to light if Veeku’s crows capture the storyteller and bring him back here to us.”

Time inside the caverns was not marked by the passage of day or night. Korvus Skurr and Sicariss waited impassively, brooding over the still surface of the dark pool. It was some moments before Veeku, leader of the crows, called out from the small passage between the two caves, “Harrakk, my birds bring word from the Redstone house for the mighty Korvus!”

The raven hopped down to the pool’s edge. “Bring them here to me!”

An escort of rooks and choughs brought the two crows forward. Veeku took his place beside Korvus. “Mighty One, my birds did not capture the one who told stories, but they bring useful information.”

Sicariss hissed, “Let them ssspeak for themselvesss!”

The two crows prostrated themselves, with outspread wings, in front of Korvus. The larger of the two spoke. “Hakaaarr! Our brother captured a young one from the Redstone house, but he was slain by a strangebeast and flung into a ditch. There were many Redstone creatures there, we had to hide, or we would have been slain also. But we heard their words, O Mighty One.”

Korvus Skurr raked the stone floor with his fearsome talons. “Speak then, tell me what they said.”

The two crows relayed the solution of the puzzle, as best they could, speaking alternately.

“Bird has no rubies, snake no emeralds….”

“Where are the stones, hidden well by Prince of Thieves….”

They waited in silence, not daring to look up.

“You heard thosssse wordssssss?”

Veeku spoke for both his crows. “If that is what they said, then that is what they heard.”

Korvus lowered his head, allowing Sicariss to slither down onto the mossdamp stones. “See if they speak truly.”

The smoothsnake positioned herself in front of the larger crow. “Look into my eyesssss…look deeeeeeep!” The bird was compelled to obey. He stared in fascination at the two gold-rimmed, black-beaded reptilian eyes. The snake’s head moved back and forth as it intoned, “Deeeeeep…look deeeeeeep! All you have to fear isssss death itsssself…. Sssspeak to Sicarissssss!”

The carrion crow fell immediately under the snake’s spell. He spoke slowly in a dreamlike voice. “We were afraid for our lives…hid in the ditch. Those were the words I heard. I wanted to return…wanted to report words to Leader Veeku.”