Sneezewort sat on the hillslope enjoying the mid-morning sunshine. In an old upturned helmet he was boiling up a broth of frogspawn and some stream vegetation on his fire. The rat watched his companion approaching, then turned his gaze upon the helmet, pretending to be engrossed with the task of cooking.
Lousewort came damp-furred and shivering. An enormous lump showed between his ears as he squatted by the fire to dry his shivering body.
Sneezewort spoke to his former companion without looking up. “Thought yew was supposed ter be an officer gettin’ punished.”
Lousewort peered hungrily at the mess bubbling in the helmet. “Er, er, well, I ain’t a ossifer no more, mate. Er, er, that looks good. I’m starvin’.”
Sneezewort stirred the broth with his dagger. “Don’t you ‘mate’ me, I ain’t yore mate no more. Why aren’t yer still stannin’ up t’yer neck in chains inna river?”
The other rat shrugged noncommittally. “Er, er, they all escaped durin’ the night, with Borumm an’ Vendace, but I got left be’ind.”
“Left be’ind? Didn’t yer wanna go wid ’em? Better’n freezin’ yore tail off inna stream, I woulda thought.”
“Er, well, I got knocked over me ’ead an’ left senseless.”
“Harr harr! Wouldn’t take much t’leave you senseless. Wot ’appened then?”
“Er, er, well, I woke up an’ shouted the alarm. Lord Damug sent Skaup the ferret out wirra ’undred or more, to ’unt ’em down. Er, Lord Damug said t’me that at least I was loyal, stoopid but loyal ’e called me, an’ ’e said that I wasn’t fit ter be an ossifer an’ told me I’d got me ole job back, servin’ in the ranks. So ’ere I am, mate, we’re back together, jus’ me’n’you.”
Sneezewort snorted as he picked the helmet off the flames between two sticks and set it down by the fireside. “Hah! So y’think yer can come crawlin’ back t’me, eh? Where’s all yer brother officers now, tell me that? An’ anudder thing, don’t think yore sharin’ my vittles, slobberchops! Go an’ get yore own, y’big useless gullywumper!”
Lousewort sulked by the fire, looking hurt and touching the lump between his ears tenderly. Then, as if remembering something, he reached into his sodden garments and drew out a big dead gudgeon, its scales glistening damply in the morning sunlight.
“Er, er, I stood on this an’ killed it when I jumped off the rock in the stream. D’yer think it’ll be all right to eat?”
Sneezewort nearly knocked the helmet over as he grabbed the fish. “Course it will, me ole mate. Tell yer wot I’ll do, I’ll shove it in wid this soup an’ cook it up a bit on the fire, while you scout for more firewood, mate. You kin ’ave the ’ead’n’tail, those are the best bits, I’ll ’ave the middle ’cos yew prob’ly damaged that part by jumpin’ on it, mate!”
Lousewort rose, smiling happily. “Er, er, then we’re still mates?”
Sneezewort’s snaggle-toothed grin smiled back at him. “I was only kiddin’ yer a moment back. We wuz always mates, me’n’you, true’n’blue! If yer can’t find a spot by yer fire an’ a bit t’spare for yer ole mate, then wot sorta mate are yer, that’s wot I always says. You nip along now an’ get the wood!”
*
Damug squatted at the water’s edge, honing his swordblade against a flat piece of stone as he conveyed his orders to the Rapmark Captains.
“There’s plenty of food and water here. We’ll camp by this stream until they bring back Borumm and Vendace and the others. When they do I’ll make such an example of them that no Rapscallion will ever even think of disobeying me again. Gaduss, we’ve got no scouts at present, so you take fifty with you and go north. I want you to do a two-day search in that direction, but if you find anything of interest before that, report back immediately.”
The weasel Gaduss saluted with his spear. “It shall be done, Firstblade!”
*
Nearly a full day’s journey up the same stream bank, the water broadened, running through two hills whose tops were fringed with pine and spruce trees. Log-a-Log, Chieftain of the Guosim shrews, was busily cleaning moss from the bottom of a beached and upturned logboat, assisted by another shrew called Frackle.
They paused to watch the other shrews fishing. Frackle wiped moss from her rapier blade, nodding toward them. “Lots o’ freshwater shrimp in that landlocked stretch o’ water,” she said.
Log-a-Log ran his paw along a section of hull he had cleaned off. “Aye, freshwater mussels, too. Minnow an’ stickleback were there in plenty last time I fished that part. Take a stroll over there, Frackle, easy like—an’ don’t look up at yonder hill on the other bank, we’re bein’ watched by some o’ those thick-’eaded Rapscallion vermin who tried attackin’ us yesterday.”
Frackle sauntered away, murmuring casually, “Aye, I see the glint o’ the sun on blades up in those trees at the ’illtop, Chief. What d’ye want me to do?”
The shrew Chieftain went back to cleaning his boat. “Just take things easy, mate. Tell the crews not t’look suspicious, pass the word to the archers t’drift back to their boats an’ git their bows’n’arrers ready. We’ll give those vermin a warm welcome if they comes down offa that ’ill an’ tries crossin’ the stream.”
*
Panting and breathing heavily after their long run, Vendace, Borumm, and forty-odd Rapscallion fugitives lay flat among the trees on the hilltop, watching the shrews below.
Borumm stared at the packs that had been unloaded from the boats. “There ain’t time fer us t’stop an’ forage in this country. We needs those packs o’ vittles if’n we’re gonna circle an’ make fer the sunny south.”
One of the fugitives crawled up alongside the weasel. “Cap’n Borumm, those are the beasts that set on us. They kin fight like wolves wid those liddle swords o’ theirs. Huh, you shoulda seen the way that ole Chief one finished off Hogspit!”
Vendace curled his lip at the vermin in a scornful sneer. “Stow that kinda talk, lunk’ead, yore with real officers now. Huh, ’Ogspit? I coulda put paid to ’im wid both paws tied be’ind me back. Bunch o’ river shrews don’t bother me’n’Borumm none, do they, mate? Phwaw! They’re bakin’ sumthin’ down there, I kin smell it from ’ere. Mmmm! Biscuits, or is it cake?”
Borumm smiled wickedly at the fox. “Wotever it is we’ll soon be samplin’ it. Right, let’s make a move. Keep ’idden climbin’ down the ’illside, play it slow. I’ll give the word ter charge if they spots us.”
The shrewboats were all cleaned and anchored in the shallows. Log-a-Log and his shrews stood around the cooking fire, all acting relaxed, but keyed up for action.
“Scubbi, Shalla, take the archers an’ use our boats fer cover. Spykel, Preese, get be’ind those big rocks wid yore sling team. Lead paddlers, stay back ’ere with me an’ Frackle, ready to jump in the boats an’ launch ’em. Those vermin are startin’ downhill, too far out o’ range yet. If we ’ave to make a run fer it, stay out o’ midstream and use the current close t’this bank.”
*
A rat named Henbit came running to the hilltop. His eyes took in the situation at one quick glance. Turning, he dashed back pell-mell to where the ferret Skaup was leading the main party at a run, hot on the tracks of the fugitives.
Henbit dashed up and threw a hasty salute. “Borumm an’ Vendace straight ahead, Cap’n! They’ve jus’ left that ’illtop to cross the stream an’ attack those shrews!”
Skaup acted quickly. “You there, Dropear, take fifty an’ run on ahead. Don’t go up the ’ill, go ’round it—come at ’em along the shore. I’ll take the rest an’ make for the shore from ’ere, that way we’ll get ’em between us. Never mind the shrews, we’re ’ere to bring those traitors back, not to fight wid a gang o’ boatmice. Get goin’!”
*
Vendace and Borumm were almost down the hill when the fox whispered to his partner, “D’yer think they’ve seen us? I coulda swore I saw the ole one lookin’ over this way once or twice.”
Borumm waved his paw to the vermin scrabbling downhill, urging them to move a bit faster. “Nah, if’n they’d seen us we’d ’ave known by now, mate. Best stop our lot when we reach the stream bank, that way we can all charge together. That water looks pretty shallow t’me.”
It took more time than Vendace liked for the last vermin to get down off the hill onto the shore. He fidgeted impatiently, conveying his anxiety to Borumm. “All of a sudden I don’t like this, mate. Those shrews gotta be blind if they ain’t seen us by now. Lookit our lot too, barrin’ for me an’ you an’ a couple o’ others, there’s scarce a decent blade between us—they’re mostly armed wid chunks o’ wood or stones.”
The weasel glared bad-temperedly at the fox. “Fine time ter be tellin’ me you’ve got the jitters. Wot’s the matter, mate, don’t you think we kin take a pack o’ scruffy shrews? Straighten yerself up! Come on, you lot. Chaaaaaarge!”
Bellowing and roaring, they made it into the shallows—then they were besieged on three sides. Log-a-Log and his Guosim loosed arrows and slingstones across the water. The charging line faltered a second under the salvo, then they were hit by the forces of Dropear and Skaup coming at them from both sides. It was a complete defeat for Vendace and Borumm’s vermin.
“Stay yore weapons, Guosim,” Log-a-Log called to his shrews, “this isn’t our fight no more. But stand ready to bring down any vermin tryin’ to cross the stream!”
The fugitives could run neither forward nor sideways. Some tried running back uphill, where they made easy targets for arrow and lance. The remainder, knowing what fate would await them at the paws of Damug Warfang, fought desperately, trying to break free and run anyplace.
Across the stream the shrews sat in their logboats, paddles poised as they watched the awful carnage.
Frackle averted her eyes, as if she could not bear to watch. “They’re from the same band. Some of those creatures must’ve fought together side by side. How can they do that to one another?”
Log-a-Log watched the slaughter through narrowed eyes. “They’re vermin, they’d kill their own families for a crust!”
There were only ten of the original fugitive band left alive—the rest lay floating in the stream or draped on the hillside. Skaup grinned evilly at Borumm as he noosed his neck to the others, forming them into a line. “Firstblade Damug’ll be well pleased to see you an’ the fox safe back under ’is paw, weasel.”
Bound paw and neck, the prisoners tottered painfully along the shore, driven by spearbutts and whipped with bowstrings. Skaup turned to stare across the stream at the Guosim sitting in their logboats. “You got off light t’day, but you’ve slain Rapscallions. We’ll settle with you another day!”
Log-a-Log’s face was impassive as he picked up a bow and sent an arrow thudding into Skaup’s outstretched paw. “Aye, we’ve slain Rapscallions, an’ we’ll slay a lot more unless you get gone from this place. I warn ye, scum, next time I draw this bowstring the arrow won’t be aimed at yore paw. Archers ready!”
Guosim bowbeasts stood up in the logboats, setting shafts to bowstrings, awaiting their Chieftain’s next command.
Skaup’s face was rigid with agony. He looked at the shrew shaft transfixing his paw and the Guosim with bows stretched, and slunk off, his voice strained with pain and anger as he yelled, “We’ll meet again someday, I swear it!”
A ribald comment echoed across the stream waters at his back: “Be sure t’bring that arrow with ye, ’twas a good shaft!”
Skaup was close to collapse when he made it back to his party. Dropear threw a paw of support around his shoulders. “Siddown, Cap’n, an’ I’ll dig that thing outta yore paw.”
The ferret pushed him roughly aside and staggered onward. “Not here, fool. Let’s get out o’ sight farther down the bank!”
Log-a-Log and his shrews stood watching them until they were behind a curve in the stream course. The shrew leader stroked his short gray beard. “Hmm, what we saw ’ere t’day tells me somethin’, mates. If they could afford to slay more’n thirty o’ their own kind, then there must be more of ’em than I thought—a whole lot more! Right, let’s get these craft under way midstream, where the current runs swift. Watch out for a weepin’ willow grove on yore port sides. We’ll take the back waterways an’ sidecut off to Redwall Abbey. I think I’d best warn ’em there’s trouble comin’.”