The Rogue Crew (39 page)

As the words left his mouth, Dorka touched the lighted twig to the pile and flames shot up with a whoosh.

Redtail yelled out in shock, falling backward. His footpaw caught in the rigging, and he hung there upside down.

Fear gripped Razzid at the sight of the sudden blaze. Memories of his blazing ship at the High North Coast flooded back. He roared at the crew.

“Take 'er back! Back, I say, take 'er back!”

The vermin on the poles shoved hard, reversing the course as the vessel rolled back from the inferno on the walltop. The Wearat ran the length of his ship, heart pounding. He made it to the prow, followed by Mowlag and Shekra.

The vixen stared up at the flames. “Just as well we never attacked right off, Lord. They have a stone fortress, but we've only got a wooden ship!”

Jiboree pointed to the battlements. “Lookit there!”

Razzid stared, wiping moisture from his injured eye, dumbfounded at the sight which confronted them.

Standing astride the battlements was the mouse warrior from his dreams. He was wearing armour and holding forth a flaming sword.

Startled by the sudden invasion, Long Patrol, Rogue Crew, Guosim and hedgehogs ducked into the water. The very air above them thrummed with noise and ear-splitting squeaks. Gasping for air, Swiffo broke the surface, still holding the smouldering torch. Dimly he could make out masses of black shapes wheeling and swooping everywhere. He struck out with the dead torch, left and right, trying to defend himself. However, he hit only empty air, no matter how hard he tried.

Skor Axehound came up for air. Swiftly sensing what was going on, he grabbed the torch from his young son.

“Don't harm 'em—stay still!”

Hugging himself and closing both eyes tight, Swiffo obeyed. One by one, the others emerged from the water, with Skor still calling the same advice to them. Everybeast stood stock-still, some covering their ears to shut out the deafening sounds. Then as suddenly as it started, all was normal again. They were left standing waist deep in the watery, dark tunnel. Fresh torches blossomed into light, bringing relief to the gloom.

Lancejack Sage shook herself. “I say, what'n the name o' blinkin', blitherin' seasons was that, wot?”

Skor lifted her onto the ledge with a single huge paw. “That was bats, missy. Hundreds, nay, thousands o' the things. They must roost up there inside yon hole.”

Captain Rake chuckled. “Och, 'tis nae wonder our foebeasts didnae pursue us. They're affrighted o' the beasties!”

Big Drander exclaimed, “Well, I don't bloomin' well blame 'em. They gave me a few nasty moments, I tell ye.”

Sergeant Miggory agreed. “Aye, me too, h'I must confess, but those batbeasts 'ave gone now. Let 'em go an' frighten the rascals who were shootin' poison darts h'at us.”

Lieutenant Scutram mounted the ledge. “Indeed! There certainly were a lot o' bat blighters. How many would ye say, sah?”

Rake Nightfur scratched an ear. “Och, as many as ye like. Mahself, Ah wasnae countin', just wonderin' how we're goin' tae get oot o' this place!”

Buff Redspore pointed up to the hole. “I'd say by that route, sah. The stream'll only take us underground, an' we ain't otters. What if it goes deeper, maybe up to the tunnel roof? There'd be no room for us to breathe. I vote we go up through the hole. It's drier, an' there ain't no bats up there right now, wot!”

Skor shouldered his great battleaxe. “We're with ye. Sounds like a sensible idea. Huh, that's if'n a beast like me will fit through that hole.”

Ruggan patted his father's ample midriff. “Right, you go last. If ye get stuck, we can always pull ye through, ole wavedog!”

Skor pawed his axe, nodding at his son. “You ain't so big I can't clip yore rudder a touch. Now, move! Shrews, hogs'n'hares first, Rogue Crew t'the rear!”

Sergeant Miggory went first, setting a torch in a crack as he helped Uggo and Posy through into the dark, silent hole. Ever practical, the tough colour sergeant found some thick dead roots protruding overhead. These he pulled out, making more torches. Soon they were all assembled, even Skor, who had managed to bull his thick body through after two tries.

Buff Redspore, along with Gil and Dreel, the young otter scouts, went ahead whilst the others took a short rest.

Log a Log Dandy rubbed his paws together, shuddering. “Gloomy flippin' place, ain't it? Sort of eerie, eh!”

Captain Rake looked around at the thick-packed earth and rock, with roots dangling from the low ceiling. “Ah'm no' verra fond o' it mahself. We'll move on soon, before the bats come back.”

Old Drogbuk, who had remained quiet so far, began grumbling. “Huh, stuck unnerground without a thing to eat or sup, an' my rheumatiz is playin' me up after sloppin' through that stream. Wish I'd never come 'ere.”

Skor waggled his axe under Drogbuk's snout. “Well, yore here now, ole pincushion, so stop moanin' or I'll land ye a smack that'll knock all those spines out!”

The trackers returned. Buff Redspore threw Skor and Rake a quick salute. “Got to report more bats ahead, though they ain't in our way. They're in a sort of chamber off to one side.”

Captain Rake drew his claymores. “Right, let's go an' see. Try not tae make much noise, mah bonny beasties.”

Uggo grasped Posy's paw. “Oh, no, more bats. I ain't too fond o' bats!”

Posy pulled him along with the others. “Oh, Uggo, they're only creatures, same as us, an' they haven't done us any harm so far. Trust Cap'n Rake.”

The side chamber was off to the left of the winding uphill passage. Holding up a torch, Rake peered in. “Och, nothin' tae fret aboot in there. 'Tis full o' babes an' a few auld batwives, all hangin' upside doon.”

Swiffo pushed past him. “Can I take a look?”

Skor dragged him back by his rudder. “Leave them alone an' get back with the Crew.”

Swiffo mumbled, “Huh, only wanted a quick peep.”

The bats began setting up a feeble clamour of squeaks.

Skor shook his head at his young son. “See wot ye've done, upset the creatures, ye scamp!”

Sergeant Miggory held up a paw for silence. “It ain't Swiffo wot's h'upset 'em, sah. H'it's a snake.”

Skor stepped back from the chamber. “Wot makes ye say that, Sar'nt?”

Miggory confirmed his suspicion. “That smell, that sound, h'I'd know h'it anywhere. There's a serpent in there, stalkin' the bat babes.”

Lieutenant Scutram waggled his ears. “Hmm, stands to reason, I'd say. Just the place for those confounded reptiles, a ready-made larder o' vittles. Could ye say what type o' snake the blighter is, Sarn't?”

Miggory drew closer to the chamber, sniffing the air. “A h'adder, sah. I'd stake me scut h'on it!”

Skor made to march onward. “Well, let's hope there's no more ahead, eh!”

Rake Nightfur confronted him. “Ye cannae just march off an' leave the babbies t'be eaten by a snake. 'Tain't right, Skor!”

The Rogue Crew Chieftain stared oddly at Rake. “Then wot d'ye propose we do? Adders can kill with a single strike—poisonfangs, we call 'em. Best left alone, eh?”

The hare captain turned away, throwing a nod in Miggory's direction. “Right, Sarn't, we'll deal with this.”

Miggory's craggy features broke into a grin. “D'ye mean a quick decoy an' the ole one-two, sah?”

Rake winked at him. “Aye, that should do the job, Ah ken!”

The word went round like wildfire.

“Surely they ain't goin' t'take on a bloomin' adder, wot?”

“They must be mad—us Guosim stays away from adders!”

“Well, come on, buckoes, we've got t'see this!”

Lieutenant Scutram gave an order. “You beasts, stay away from the chamber. Ye can watch, but stay still an' quiet. Cap'n Rake an' the sarn't can deal with an adder. I've seen'em do it before. So stand clear!”

It was indeed an adder, a fully grown female complete with black chevrons decorating its scales. Slowly, it was making its way up the chamber wall toward the tiny hanging bats. The older batwives were squeaking piteously, unable to deter the snake from its purpose. Unaware of the peril, the little ones squeaked along with their elders.

With sinister, unhurried grace, the predator slithered up the wall, latching on to outcrops for support. Rake sheathed one of his blades, arming himself with the other and a torch. He nodded to the sergeant.

“Are ye fit'n'ready, mah friend?”

Miggory was balanced lightly, both paws clenched. “Aye, let's h'open the ball, sah!”

He dropped to one side of the snake as Rake inched forward and touched its tail tip with the lighted torch.

Then things happened with a speed which amazed the onlookers. The snake spun around, jaws open, fangs exposed. Captain Rake thrust the claymore blade edge-on at it. Instinctively, the reptile struck, clamping its mouth on the blade edge. Before it could let go, Sergeant Miggory slipped in beneath it. With lightning rapidity, he delivered two stunning uppercuts, right under the adder's jaws.

Rake watched the snake slide off his blade, senseless. “Mah thanks t'ye, Sarn't. Ah think two blows is enough.”

Miggory picked up the snake, checking its fangs. “Never needed more'n two blows to break h'a sarpint's fangs, sah. That'n won't be a-feedin' off baby bats no more!” He tossed the unconscious adder to one side and was immediately surrounded by young hares and sea otters.

“Blood'n'thunder, Sarge, how did ye do that? I never seen anythin' so fast in all me life!”

One of the Rogue Crew seemed a bit cynical. “'Twas all some sort o' trick, wasn't it, Sergeant?”

Miggory's fisted paws wove a dazzling pattern around the otter's face. He leaned back against the tunnel wall, awestruck. The tough veteran hare chuckled lightly.

“Allus remember, young sah, the quickness o' the paw can deceive the eye—h'an' like h'as not, blacken h'it!”

Lieutenant Scutram gave the order to move on. “Right, chaps, let's leave the batbabes t'their nap an' the serpent to a jolly sore mouth when it wakens. Fall in by the right, straighten up, but mind your nut on the ceilin', especially you, Drander!”

No sooner were they on the march again than old Drogbuk started complaining. “I'm starvin' t'death. Don't we even get a mizzuble bite to eat?”

Skor trod on the back of his footpaw, making him stumble. “Give yore tongue a rest, y'ole famine-faced nuisance. There ain't vittles nor drink for any of us, so quit moanin' about it. Just shut up an' keep up!”

Trug Bawdsley was startled by an ominous rumble. “What's goin' on chaps? Is the blinkin' tunnel collapsin', wot?”

Big Drander answered mournfully, “'Tis this flippin' stomach o' mine, it won't stop grumblin'.”

A loud gurgling groan confirmed this. Drander smiled wanly. “See, I told ye. The jolly old tum's got a mind of its own!”

Corporal Welkin Dabbs glared at the culprit. “Keep that up, bucko, an' I'll put your stomach on a charge!”

Drander raised his voice over his protesting abdomen. “I say, steady on, Corp. That ain't fair!”

Captain Rake stifled a chuckle. “If ye can sing a bonny tune, I'll drop all charges on ye, Drander.”

The big hare promptly broke into song.

Drander had long been voted the worst singer in the Long Patrol. There was general laughter as Captain Rake called out to him, “Och, that's enough, bonny lad. Ah've changed mah mind—Ah'll put ye on a charge if ye continue singin'!”

Corporal Welkin Dabbs chuckled. “I say, Drander old lad, why not let your jolly old tum give us a verse or two, wot? It'd sound a lot better'n that voice o' yours!”

The tunnel ceiling became gradually lower. All the taller beasts had to duck their heads or bend. Skor Axehound's grunts echoed around the gloomy passageway.

“Flamin' hard t'catch breath down here, an' my back's startin' to bother me. Shall we take a rest, eh?”

Captain Rake was in agreement with the sea otter Chieftain. “Aye, a wee rest'll nae harm us. Buff, take yon two wee otterscouts an' see what lies ahead.”