Rakkety Tam (4 page)

Araltum blurted out squeakily, “There were hundreds of them . . . white vermin. They surrounded us. Then that thing, that Gulo, attacked without warning. I was almost killed! D'you hear me, almost killed!”

Araltum collapsed, weeping hysterically. Tam gave an irate snort. Grabbing hold of Driltig, he hauled him upright. “Make your report, Captain. Come on, smarten up!”

Driltig could not meet his interrogator's gaze. He rubbed his bruised paw, babbling like a beast in a trance. “It was a nightmare! One moment we were marching out of the trees and onto the western fringe. Me an' Chamog were carryin' the flag, the others were singin' an' playin' flutes. . . . Suddenly they ambushed us, out of nowhere—a great mob of wild vermin, white foxes an' ermine stoats. The leader was called Gulo, they were yelling his name. ‘Gulo! Gulo!' They hit us like lightnin'—rippin', slayin' an' slashin'. We never stood a chance. I dropped the flag. Then me an' Pinetooth over there, we seized the King an' rushed him up into the trees. That's when I hurt my paw. We went like the wind, our creatures screamin' an' dyin' back there. We could hear those vermin roarin' an' laughin' like madbeasts. I'll never forget it as long as I live, never!”

Driltig slumped down, weeping. The older squirrel, Pinetooth, was an experienced campaigner. He sat silent, ignoring a bleeding wound to his shoulder. Tam looked to him.

Pinetooth shook his head. “I can't tell ye anymore'n he did, Tam. It all happened too fast!”

Tam nodded. “Ye'd best get that wound seen to, mate.”

Pinetooth glanced at his injury as if just noticing it. “One of the vermin slashed at me with a blade shaped like a sickle. I was lucky, though, I escaped. That Gulo beast
got Cap'n Chamog first. Pore beast, he screamed like a babe!”

Idga Drayqueen had sufficiently recovered to complain at Tam. “My poor Araltum, almost killed! And where were you while all this murder was taking place, eh?”

Rakkety Tam lost his temper and bellowed at her, “Locked in the guardhouse because I wouldn't play your stupid little games, marm. Don't ye remember? Where's me'n Doogy's weapons o' war—you had them confiscated.”

Pinetooth went to a concealed place amid the branches. He dragged forth a big sack with its neck tied shut. Tearing it open with his teeth, he upended it. Tam grabbed the belongings that had been taken from him—his trusty weapon, a claymore, with a hefty double-edged blade and a basket hilt; his dirk, the long dagger used by Northerners for close fighting; and his Sgian Dhu, a small, keen skinning knife with a black handle and an amber cairnstone set on top. Tam thrust the claymore into the side of his belt, the dirk at the back, beneath his cloak, and the Sgian Dhu behind a hackle of feathers set into his cap. Last, he picked up his buckler, a small, round fighting shield, slinging it behind his left shoulder.

“Now I feel properly dressed. I'll hold Doogy's gear here until he gets back.”

It was some time before Tam's partner returned. Buckling on his three blades and picking up his shield, Doogy spoke quietly to Tam. “Ah tell ye, mate, it was a massacre!”

Tam showed no emotion. “Were there no wounded on either side? Did ye not catch sight o' the vermin?”

Doogy shook his head. “Nary a sign of 'em, but they left tracks aplenty. There was no' one of our fighters alive.”

Tam pointed at Idga and Araltum. “Doogy, you an' the rest bring these two along. 'Twill do them good to see the results of their playactin'. 'Tis safe enough to return there now. I'll go ahead an' look at the vermin tracks whilst they're still fresh.”

As Tam swung off through the trees, Araltum protested, “He can't talk to me like that, I'm a king!”

Doogy dragged Araltum up, whipping the blanket off him. “Yore nought but a blitherin' auld bloater. Get movin'!”

Idga Drayqueen called out indignantly, “You common little beast! I'll have you thrown back in the guardhouse for your impudence. Guards, seize him!”

As nobeast moved to hinder him, Doogy scowled fiercely at Idga. “Ah don't want tae hear anither word out o' ye. Now move that fat tail, ye wee biddy, or ah'll move it for ye!”

Rakkety Tam was casting about the area where the attack had taken place. He peered over the cliffs down to the far shoreline. Two boats lay wrecked on the rocks—a small craft, which the pounding waves had reduced to splinters, and a big, four-masted vessel. This latter ship was holed at the bowline, close to its prow, where it had been driven headlong onto the treacherous reef.

Doogy arrived with the royal couple and the other squirrels. He indicated the big wrecked four-master. “Yon's the ship the vermin must've come in, though ah'm thinkin' 'twill be no use tae anybeast now.”

Tam's eyes hardened. “Aye, an' they won't be able to repair it once we put torches to it, Doogy!”

He turned to the carnage, which Idga and Araltum were pointedly trying to ignore by gazing in another direction. “This was a massacre indeed, Doogy. By the tracks, I'd say there were about fivescore vermin who did the slaughter. Mostly foxes an' stoats, though I see the big-pawed one, their Chieftain, leadin' away over the clifftops.”

Doogy strained his eyes north and east. “Och, they
must've been fair speedy villains. There's no' a sight of 'em anyplace!”

Tam faced Araltum. “How many were with ye at the start of yore ceremony?”

The king shrugged airily. “How should I know?”

The squirrel warrior glared at him in disgust. “Aye, an' why should you care, now that yore skin's saved! Pinetooth, can ye recall what the numbers were?”

The older squirrel did a quick mental estimate. “Countin' the singers an' musicians, I'd say about thirty.”

Idga Drayqueen snapped her bark fan shut moodily. “Really, what difference does it make? They're all dead now!”

Tam scratched his brush as he viewed the slain squirrels. “There's not one carcase of a foebeast among these. They're all our creatures. Thirty, ye say, Pinetooth? Well, how d'ye account for the fact there's only eighteen lyin' here? Countin' yourself an' Driltig, that makes ten missin'.”

The old squirrel leaned on his spear. “Are ye sure, Tam, only eighteen?”

Tam gestured. “Count 'em yourself, mate. Doogy, go an' cast an eye round the edge of the trees to the north, will ye?”

Idga Drayqueen began weeping in genuine distress. “Oh, that beautiful banner! It took me and my servants almost a full winter season to make it. Is it lost forever, my dear?”

Araltum patted her paw. “There, there, my pet, don't you fret. Tam will get it back for us.”

Gritting his teeth, Tam managed to bite back the insulting words he was about to issue. Just then he heard Doogy hail him from afar. “Will ye come an' take a look at this, mate?”

Striding off along the fringe, Tam came upon his companion some distance away. Doogy was swatting flies from the grisly site. Holding a paw over his mouth, he muttered, “Och, the poor beasts, ah reckon there's little more than their heads left. 'Tis an awful thing tae see, Tam.”

His friend paced carefully about, identifying the remains. “There's Chamog an' Eltur, Birno an' Rofal, this one could be Girtan. Well, that's the other five captains. The rest look like singers an' flute players. See these two, Doogy—they couldn't have had more'n fourteen summers between 'em. We're dealin' with the lowest kind of barbarian brutes here. These squirrels have all been eaten! See, there's bones'n'fur scattered everywhere!”

 

Grim-faced and shaken, the two warriors returned to the main gathering.

Araltum asked peevishly, “Did you find my Royal Standard? Was it damaged or torn? Your Drayqueen spent a lot of hard work making that bann . . .”

The king's back slammed hard against a tree under Tam's furious charge. Araltum's eyes popped fearfully wide as the warrior squirrel had him by the throat, his dirk blade almost in his mouth.

Tam's voice was ice-cold. “Ye vile little worm! A score an' a half o' yore creatures are lyin' murdered, an' all ye can do is whine about a stupid flag. I should slay ye an' leave ye here to rot with these poor creatures!”

This statement seemed to cheer Doogy Plumm up no end. “Go to it, Tam. Carve the wee lardbucket's head off!”

The warrior flung Araltum down on his fat tail, casting him a hate-laden glance. “I'm sore tempted, Doogy, but that'd only make us as bad as the vermin who killed our comrades. The only thing stoppin' me is that I pledged my sword an' my oath to Araltum, aye, an' ate his bread in good faith!”

Massaging his throat, the king rose, sneering. “That's right, Rakkety Tam MacBurl. I'm still your king, and you're still bound to obey me!”

Doogy drew his claymore, grinning like a disobedient young one. “Ach, 'twas a silly thing we did, but ah've a mind tae alter the rules. Let me slay him for ye, Tam.”

The warrior placed his dirk across his friend's blade.
“Put up yore sword, Doogy Plumm. Without our word, we're nothin'. Araltum, what would it take to release us from our bond to ye?”

The king smirked. “Why should I release my two best warriors? What price could you two offer? Hah, you're nothing but a pair of raggedy-backed swordbeasts. No! You shall serve me unto death as your oath decreed.”

Idga Drayqueen interrupted, speaking imperiously. “We'll free you if you return our Royal Standard to us!”

Araltum stamped his footpaw down hard. “Never!”

Idga turned upon her husband. “You mean you'll let those vermin steal away our lovely banner—the one I worked my paws to the bone to make? Oh, you brute!”

Doogy shook his head sadly, sympathising with her. “Och, yer right there, mah Queen, after all the braw work ye put intae that flag. Yer hoosban' mustn't care a whit for ye, the heartless wee beastie!”

Araltum put a paw around Idga's shoulders. “But I do care for you, my love. Don't upset yourself so!”

The drayqueen shook off his paw and began weeping. “Go away, you nasty creature! I'll never speak to you again if that's all the thanks I get for a full winter's stitching. You're despicable!”

Doogy patted the queen's paw comfortingly. “Aye, there's nought worse tae have than a despicable king, marm. 'Tis a wonder how ye put up wi' him.”

Araltum slumped against a tree. Knowing he was beaten, he glared sullenly at Tam and Doogy. “Alright, alright! Bring back our Royal Standard and I will release you both from your bonds. Once that banner is back here with us, you can go to the very stones of Hellgates for all I care, both of you. But not until then!”

Tam stared hard at the royal couple. “We have your word?”

They nodded, speaking together. “You have our word!”

Doogy looked north across the clifftops. “Then we'll no' be hangin' aroond here tae waste time. Are ye ready, Tam?”

The warrior squirrel sheathed his dirk. “Aye, as ready as I'll ever be. Grab some vittles, Doogy, an' let's away.”

Idga forced a smile at Tam. “Er, when will we expect to see you both back with our standard?”

Tam shrugged. “A season or two, who knows? If we don't return, ye'll know the vermin have slain an' eaten us.”

Araltum stepped back, horrified. “Eaten you?”

Doogy winked cheerfully at him. “Aye, eaten us. Go an' take a peek at yore Cap'ns an' singers yonder. Ye'll note there's nought left o' them but their heads an' a few wee scraps o' fur'n'bone. It shouldnae be much bother buryin' them. 'Tis the least ye could do for beasts that served ye well an' died for ye!”

“Whooooahhhhh!” Idga gave a great swooning moan and fainted in a heap.

As Tam and Doogy marched off, their last sight of the despicable royal taskmasters was Araltum trying to heave his wife's considerable bulk upright while courtiers rubbed her paws and dabbed rose water upon her brow.

Tam winked at his friend. “Ye've a fine way with words, Doogy Plumm, there's no doubt about that!”

His faithful companion's tough, scarred face beamed with pleasure. “Och, now ye come tae mention it, mah grannie allus said I was a braw silver-tongued beastie. Have ye no' seen me charmin' wee birdies from out the trees?”

Tam shot him a sideways glance. “No, not yet. Let's see if we can go an' charm the royal flag off those vermin with our blades, my bold Doogy. But first we'll go down to the seaside an' do a spot o' ship-burnin' to cheer ourselves up. Nought like a good fire, eh?”

Late afternoon sun cast long shadows as they climbed down the cliffs toward the big vessel perched on the tideline rocks. Both were unaware that through the hole smashed into the forward bow, wickedly glittering eyes were watching them.

Arflow revelled in the freedom of the open sea. This was the young sea otter's first journey without the constraints of his parents. To date, his life had been spent in the northwestern coastal waters, never venturing far one way or the other. Last spring, Arflow's family had been visited by distant relatives, a small group of sea otters from the southern coast. Arflow enjoyed their company immensely, especially that of the four young ones who were about his age. Sad when his newfound cousins departed at midsummer to return down south, Arflow promised to come and visit them the following spring. At first, his parents would not hear of their only son, not yet fully grown, going off all that way to the southern coast alone. Arflow nevertheless persisted with his request, despite the unlikelihood that his parents would give in. But at the start of this spring, a miracle happened: the birth of a little sea otter maid to his mother. Named Matunda, the baby kept both parents busy night and day; accordingly, Arflow stepped up his pleas to go visit his cousins. He finally won out one evening when his mother and father were worn out, swum ragged by the
antics of little Matunda who, as they complained, was more lively than a sackful of sardines! Arflow's request was granted, but with a hundred provisos, which included the young otter's promise to get the proper rest, navigate by the sun and stars, stick to the coast, make his supplies last and mind his manners with others, plus, of course, all the usual things that mother and father sea otters go on about. He agreed to everything without hesitation.

 

Arflow had been swimming since early morning. Now, at late noon, the golden orb of the sun had not far to sink before it touched the western horizon—a league and a half past the mountain fortress of Salamandastron. He lay on his back and drifted on the calm surface of the ebbtide, happily reflecting on what a glorious day it was to be young and alive! Arflow looked out to where the waters changed from a light opaque green to a deep aquamarine blue in the west. Though starting to tinge a delicate peach in the distance, the sky was still bright periwinkle blue overhead, dotted with small puffball clouds, their undersides shot gold from sunrays. The young sea otter wriggled with delight at the seabirds wheeling and calling above. He giggled as a cormorant winged nearby, splashing him as it dived headlong into the gentle swell. Sheer exuberance flooded over Arflow. He broke out into a sea otter song which he had learned from his father:

 

“Sing hi yo ho, let every creature know,

I'll swim where e'er I choose to go,

on rippling wave or tidal flow.

Oooooooh, no lark's as blithe as me!

 

Sing hey make way, let nobeast bar my way.

To frowning faces I will say,

cheer up and smile now, come and play.

Oooooooh, be happy on this day!

 

Don't cry, 'tis I who laughs at misery,

so young, so full of life and free,

with all the seas to roam and see.

Oh Moooother Nature, list to me, I thank thee gratefully!”

 

Arflow dived, swooped up and sprang from the water, throwing himself high into the air and landing back with a resounding splash. Then he heard the drum.
Boom boom! Boom boom! Boom bumpitty bumpitty boom!

He peered landward at a group of creatures marching along the shoreline. Arflow barely distinguished the distant figures as hares. They were banging a big drum and singing a marching song as they strutted along the beach. Raising a webbed paw, he shouted a greeting, despite knowing they were too far off to hear. That did not bother the young sea otter: they were happy, and so was he.

Suddenly, without warning, things went amiss. In the distance, other dark shapes, a host of them, appeared. Who they were, Arflow could not tell. For a moment, the hares tried to resist the newcomers, but they were outnumbered by more than ten to one. The invaders surrounded them and hurled themselves upon the small band of hares. Screams and agonised cries rent the air, accompanied by shouts and howls. Even from that distance the sea otter could hear them.

Boom!
The drum sounded once. Then there was silence as the dark shapes settled on the fallen hares like crows upon carrion. Arflow did not know what was happening, but he sensed that something very bad and wicked had taken place on the shore. Shock and worry beset him after the terrifying swiftness of the incident.

Recovering himself hurriedly, he turned on his stomach and altered course immediately. Cleaving the sea like a blade through satin, Arflow sped back in the direction of Salamandastron. Whatever had occurred, he felt it imperative that Lady Melesme, the Badger Ruler of the mountain, should know. All creatures who were not vermin looked to the fortress and its Badger Ruler, who commanded the army of hares known, and famed, as the Long Patrol. They
were sworn to protect the western coastlands, and all about, from harm by foebeasts. Urgency had replaced Arflow's previous euphoria. The scenic glories of evening's approach and the joy he had been revelling in were forgotten. He concentrated all his energy into swimming, faster than he had ever moved, toward the distant mountain which stood in the fading light like a giant, purple-shaded sentinel, guarding the shores.