Read [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain Online

Authors: Brian Jacques

[Redwall 18] - High Rhulain (9 page)

BOOK: [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain
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As they poled the log downriver, Whulky whispered, “Is it true Zillo the Bard will be there?”
Keeping his eyes on the watercourse, the sea otter replied, “For sure 'tis. He's been takin' the enchanted slumber agin.'Twill be interestin' to hear his ballad.”
Tall stones protruded up from the scrubland behind the shore dunes. Berthing the log, the three otters headed for them. In the past, sea and stream otters had gathered at this time-honoured venue in the hundreds. However, owing to the regime of Riggu Felis, that night's attendance was no more than twoscore in number.
The site was screened by a ring of scrub bushes, with six sentries posted on watch. Leatho and his two friends waved to them and made their way to the fire at the centre of the tall stones. They were greeted by the others, who sat them down and served out bowls of burgoolla. This was a thick stew of seaweed and shellfish, seasoned with the most fiery of herbs and spices. A mere whiff of the burgoolla aroma, though delicious, could wring tears from a creature's eyes with its sheer heat. Customarily, no words were spoken during the eating of this otter delicacy—except to either compliment or criticise its quality.
Whulky fanned a paw across his mouth after the first taste. “Ah sure, an' isn't this a true drop of the grand stuff?”
Many agreed with him. “Hoho, 'tis grand sure enough!”
But there were always those who liked to disagree.
“Arraway with ye. I've scraped better burgoolla off'n me ould granma's pinny, so I have!”
“Aye, the stuff tastes like a duck in a muddle.”
There were many indignant defenders.
“Ah, shut yore gob, sure ye'd complain if a fine, big trout cooked itself an' jumped into yore big mouth, so ye would!”
“Aye, lissen bhoyo, if'n ye could make better burgoolla than this, then put yore paws t'work an' give yore fat lip a rest!”
The good-natured banter was brought to a halt by the flat thump of a rudderdrum.
Leatho stood then, calling out, “Be we well gathered, otters all. Do I see a Wildlough?”
Whulky stood up. “Ye see a Wildlough, once one of the mightiest clans on river or stream!”
Leatho continued with his roster. “Do I see a Galedeep?”
A huge otter raised his paw. “Ye see a Galedeep of the mighty sea otter rovers!”
“Do I see a Wavedog?”
“Ye see a Wavedog of a clan that don't know fear!”
“Do I see a Streambattle?”
“Aye, ye see a Streambattle whose clan know the scars o' war well!”
The list continued, with each clan representative answering proudly. When he had finished, Leatho waited until a voice called out to him, “An' do we see a Shellhound?”
The outlaw sea otter roared back, “Yore seein' a Shellhound that never backed down from a foebeast! I'm the last o' my clan, I have neither kith, kin nor family! But by the thunders I'm still here an' fightin'!”
Firelight gleamed from the outlaw's eyes as he glared around the assembly. “Why, who is it that calls to me?”
Two otters supported an older one to a seat by the fire. He was still a big beast, though he bore many scars. One of his legs had been replaced by a wooden peg, and his left eye wore a black musselshell patch. He held a round, flat rudderdrum, which he struck gently with his tail.
Leatho strode across and embraced him fondly. “Ould Zillo the Bard o' the Watermeadows, haven't ye sunk with the sun beyond the westerin' sea yet?”
Zillo gave him a gap-toothed grin. “Ah no, me buckoe, I wouldn't dream of it whilst there's still one mangy catpaw print on our lovely Green Isle!”
Leatho chuckled admiringly. “Ye ould battledog, what have ye been dreamin' about then?”
Zillo struck the rudderdrum a mighty clout. “The day of deliverance is comin'!”
A roar of joy came from every otter present. Leatho held up a paw for silence. “Whisht now, Zillo has the floor!”
A hush fell over them as the bard sat staring into the fire. His rudder began beating the drum slowly. Then he began to sing his story in true bardic fashion.
“On the night that the great storm was ragin' apace,
sweepin' in o'er the high seas to batter this isle,
I heard that a wildcat had lost half his face,
Ah, isn't that grand now, I said with a smile!”
Two otters joined in with flute and banjotta, an odd stringed instrument that was very popular among the clans. Zillo let them play a short stanza before continuing.
“ 'Twas then by me fire I fell into a dream,
with the wild winds a-keenin' an' wailin' outside,
sure a wisdom came floatin' o'er some magic stream,
that the days of our vengeance were soon to arrive.
'Twas a mouse in bright armour, he spake loud an'
clear,
an' he carried a sword that was wondrous to see.
‘Ould Zillo the Bard,' he said, ‘Never you fear,
for 'tis writ in the stars that the clans will run free.
From the seas an' the oceans, from river an' stream,
rise up all ye warriors, arm every paw.
A leader is comin' to fulfill yore dreams,
one who'll stand at your head as ye march off to war.
Ye'll rise like the red dawn, all in a great band,
like a brave surgin' tide such as never was seen,
as ye thunder her title all over this land:
All hail to the Rhulain! The High Otterqueen!' ”
The otters leapt up, bellowing and cheering, roaring and chanting. “Rhulain! Rhulain! Ee aye eeeeeh!”
Leatho could not stem the noisy jubilation, but the blood was pounding through his body. He took Zillo the Bard by the shoulders, shouting in his ear above the din. “Are ye sure High Rhulain is comin' back to Green Isle, or was yore dream just a desire to rouse the clans?”
Zillo raised his voice in reply. “My dreams have never lied, Shellhound. 'Tis certain I am!”
Leatho battered for a long time on the rudderdrum before order was finally restored. His voice rang out like steel. “We'll get nothin' done, howlin' an' jiggin' about like a rabble o' wildbeasts!”
Zillo backed him up. “Sure the Shellhound's right. Hold still now like goodbeasts an' lissen to him.”
The outlaw sea otter began outlining his campaign. “We need to work together now, buckoes, but our watchword must be secrecy. Don't breathe a word yet of what ye've heard here tonight to anybeast!”
Chab held up his paw. “Not even to our families?”
Leatho shook his head vehemently. “Especially not yore families, mate. Little 'uns will repeat wot they've heard to anybeast, an' old 'uns can't resist gossipin'. If Riggu Felis an' those cats caught wind of ought, they'd soon pry it out of familybeasts. They're good at that, as ye know. When the time's right, I'll let ye know, then ye can tell yore kin.”
Zillo added his own warning. “Holdin' yore silence will stop many an otter bein' weighted with rocks an' tossed into Deeplough for Slothunog to feed off.”
The very mention of Deeplough's monster brought gasps of fear from many. Leatho let the message sink in before carrying on with his plans.
“Right, here's wot we need. Secrecy, or our plans will be ruined. Organisation an' obedience, if we're to see this through together. An' weapons! When the time comes, bare paws'll be useless against Felis's murderers. Last, an' most important, we need our Rhulain, a High Queen that this isle hasn't seen since seasons out o' memory!”
One of the Wavedog clan called out, “How'll we know the Rhulain when we see her?”
Leatho, at a loss to answer, turned to Zillo. “Can you tell us, mate?”
The bard pondered a while. “All I can tell ye is wot I know from the poems an' ballads passed down through my forefathers. One thing is certain, though, she'll be of the Wildlough blood. I've heard old paeans an' lays that tell of a warriormaid, tall an' swift. Fearless in battle, an' more deadly with sling'n'stone than any livin' beast. 'Tis said that she wore a gold coronet set with a greenstone, and also that she wore a surcoat of armour from neck to waist, embossed with a gold star. That's about as much as I can tell ye.”
There was a hesitant silence over the meeting. Then Big Kolun, Skipper of the Galedeep sea otters, boomed out in his loud, jolly voice, “Well that'll do for us Galedeeps. Ye couldn't'ave painted High Rhulain clearer, Zillo. Sounds like the kind o' queen I'd foller to Hellgates an' back. Right, buckoes?”
Yells of approval greeted him. Leatho winked at the big fellow. “Galedeeps were always loyal warriors, matey!”
Kolun spat on a huge paw and held it out. “Here's me paw, an' here's me heart, Shellhound. I'm with ye!”
 
Dawn of the following day found Riggu Felis, Lady Kaltag and their two sons taking breakfast beneath an awning on the pier which fronted the lake. It was a fine summer morn, with sunbeams dancing on the water from a cloudless sky of cornflower blue. Otterslaves stood by, ready to serve the demands of the warlord and his kin. As usual, Jeefra and Pitru were quarrelling, this time about two gull eggs which they had been served.
Jeefra went whining to his mother, tears beading in his eyes as he wailed, “Mamma, Mamma, Pitru stole my egg. He's finished his own and now he's taken mine!”
Kaltag left off sunning herself in the early warmth. “Will you two stop bickering? Pitru, give that egg back to your brother, this instant!”
Pitru tossed the egg up, then caught it deftly, smirking. “Tell him to come and get it!”
His mother fixed him with an icy glare. “Give Jeefra the egg. Do as I say!”
The chain mail half-mask which covered Riggu Felis's disfigured face chinked as he drew in breath. He was watching his sons with interest. The wildcat rasped, “Let them be, Kaltag. If Pitru wants the egg, let him keep it—though mayhaps Jeefra's warrior enough to take it back by force. Go on, son, let's see what you're made of.”
Jeefra feared both his father and Pitru, so he took the soft alternative. Turning to an otterslave, he ordered, “You, bring me another gull's egg!”
“Stay where you are, slave!” The warlord's fangs showed between the quivering chain mail. “Jeefra, go and take the egg back off Pitru. Go on!”
Kaltag complained, “My lord, you should not be urging brothers to fight each other in this way.”
The wildcat ruler of Green Isle snarled at her. “Stay out of this! They have to learn to take what they want. Well, go to it, Jeefra. I'm waiting!”
Pitru taunted his weaker brother. “Aye, go to it, Jeefra. I'm waiting, too.”
Jeefra had no option. He knew it would go badly for him if he was shamed in front of his father. Gathering his nerve, he made a sudden charge, but his brother easily sidestepped him. Leaping onto Jeefra's back, Pitru forced him to the ground, holding him there as he mocked his feeble attempt.
“ ‘Mamma, Mamma, Pitru stole my egg!' Here, take it back, you big snot-nosed kitten!” Wilfully, he smashed the raw gull egg over his brother's head. The runny mess splattered down across Jeefra's face. Pitru contemptuously kicked his brother's backside, then freed him. Jeefra fled indoors, sobbing.
Pitru licked yolk from his paw, commanding one of the otterslaves, “Go and bring me another egg, I'm still hungry!”
A gurgling laugh issued from behind the chain mail as Riggu addressed Kaltag. “That one's got the makings of a proper wildcat!”
She sniffed. “We have two sons, both wildcats.”
Pulling the face mask to one side, the warlord thrust his hideous features close to her. “Never! I'm the only true wildcat here—I, Riggu Felis! You and all the rest of these cats, you are only feral cats. Your ancestors were tame creatures who served stronger beasts. You could not even fend for yourselves. It took my kin, the real wildcats, to conquer your masters. We brought your kind here from the sunset lands of the far oceans. See my colour, my stripes, these are the marks of the proper wildcat bloodline. I am the only one who is all wildcat, a warlord born. Jeefra is more like you, but Pitru has more wildcat in him!”
Pitru had been eavesdropping on his father's words. “Does that mean I'll be the ruler of Green Isle someday?”
Riggu allowed the chain mail to cover his lower face again. “It takes more than a bully to make a warlord. You have to be fearless, like me. Why could you not have slain that bird on the eve of the storm, eh?”
Both brothers had been reminded of the incident many times by their father. Pitru did not like being criticised. Turning on one paw, he prowled off, leaving his father with a parting shot. “Huh, you tried, and look at the mess it made of you.”
Springing up in a fury, the wildcat chieftain seized his single-bladed axe. “You insolent whelp! Why, I'll. . . .”
A cry rang out from the lakeshore, distracting Riggu. “Master, we have taken two prisoners!”
Bound together by ropes, the two otterslaves, Whulky and Chab, were thrust up onto the pier. Surrounding them were catguards, with Weilmark Scaut and Atunra at their head. Still hefting the axe in one paw, Riggu wiped froth from his slobbering lower lip. He composed himself swiftly and sat down.
The prisoners were forced to lie facedown in front of the wildcat as he stared regally at them. “Why do you bring them before me? What have they done?”
The pine marten Atunra bowed. “Master, they were caught outside of the settlement before dawn. Both have been missing all night.”
Weilmark Scaut pointed with his whipbutt at the otters. A large bandage covered Scaut's jaw, where the missile from Leatho had broken it. He was in pain and had to speak from between clenched teeth.
BOOK: [Redwall 18] - High Rhulain
5.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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