The Rogue Crew (41 page)

In the close confines of the tunnel, countless bats filled the limited space. There were so many of the dark-winged creatures that the hares, otters and the three hedgehogs had to crouch so low they were almost flat with the ground.

Sergeant Miggory covered Posy with his paws. “H'are you alright, missy?”

The young hogmaid replied, “I'm fine, thank you, Sergeant. There's so many bats, but I haven't been touched by one yet.”

Lancejack Sage added. “Neither have I. Jolly odd, ain't it?”

Skor had overheard them. He called out from nearby, “We're swamped by bats, but all ye can feel is the breeze from their wings as they fly by.”

As quickly as it had started, all bat activity ceased.

Captain Rake stood up cautiously, gazing around as he picked up a fallen torch. “Ah dinnae know what's happenin' now. Look, the things are hangin' upside doon everywhere. Ah wonder what they want.” As far back as the eye could see, covering the ceiling over the void and massed on the far side, the bats had stationed themselves.

Everybeast stood up slowly, with old Drogbuk hissing a warning. “Keep a close eye on the brutes. I think they're goin' to attack. Hah, I never trusted bats in me life!”

A bunch of quills rattled as Ruggan gave Drogbuk's rear a light kick. “Silence, y'ole fool. If'n they were goin' to attack us, they'd have done it by now. Cap'n Rake, look!”

A convoy of bats came looming toward them, headed by one larger than the rest. Between them a line of bats were carrying the writhing form of the adder which had been hunting their young. All that could be heard was the hissing of the injured reptile. Silently the bats bore it out, over the deep abyss, holding it there until the big bat motioned with one wing. They dropped the snake, and it fell, down, down, finally disappearing from sight into the waters far below. The big bat gave a piercing squeak to the others gathered on the opposite side of the chasm. In a group they winged soundlessly back, bearing a long, rough cable of woven root and vine.

The big bat spoke in a low whisper to Sergeant Miggory. “I am Hiposir, Bigwing of this tribe . . . this tribe. You are Stonepaw . . . Stonepaw . . . saviour of our babes and old ones . . . old ones. With one blow, Stonepaw . . . one blow . . . you rid us of the great Poisontooth . . . Poisontooth. Hiposir thanks you. I go now . . . go now. Follow the sweet smell . . . the sweet smell. Long may ye live . . . live . . . live.”

Hiposir glided off, followed by all his tribe, in a rush of wing noise and squeaking.

Uggo Wiltud was first to break the uncanny silence which followed the bats' departure. He winked roguishly at Sergeant Miggory. “Good ole Stonepaw the serpent stunner, eh!”

Miggory picked up the loose cable end. “That'll be h'enough out o' you, young un. Me name's Miggory, Colour Sarn't Nubbs Miggory, h'in fact. Beggin' yore pardon, Cap'n, but wot are we supposed t'do with this, h'a bloomin' tightrope walk?”

Rake took the cable from the sergeant. He gave it a tug. “Ah think 'tis tied to somethin' over yonder. Here, mah bonnies, lend a few wee paws an' we'll see, eh?”

Willing paws heaved on the thick cable, stowing it behind as it payed out.

Old Drogbuk roared excitedly, “Lookit, 'ere she comes . . . lookit lookit!”

It was a curious affair which they heaved across the rift. A wide, primitive-looking net, woven from roots, fibres and branches.

Posy clapped her paws. “It's a bridge. I wonder who made it.”

Lieutenant Scutram shook his ears happily. “We'll never know, miss, but a jolly good vote o' thanks to 'em, whoever they flippin' well were. Come on, chaps, take firm hold. We don't want the bally thing fallin' down that confounded hole, wot!”

They hauled away until the structure was taut. Skor grabbed the original single cable, securing it several times around the bulky taproots of some woodland giant whose ends penetrated the tunnel ceiling. “Right, who's goin' to try it, eh?”

Even before he had finished speaking, Swiffo was out on the crude network, picking his way nimbly across.

Skor roared after his youngest son, “Go easy, ye young rip. Slow down or ye'll fall!”

Balancing on his rudder, Swiffo swayed playfully, halfway across the abyss. He was followed by the equally nimble Log a Log Dandy.

Swiffo shouted to his father, “Yore next, Pa—but stow yore axe lest ye trip on it!”

Skor's huge, booming laughter echoed around as he gave Corporal Welkin Dabbs a pat on the back, which almost sent him sprawling. “Impudent young blood pudden. Wouldn't ye just love to have a son like 'im, eh?”

Swiffo reached the other side and danced a little jig. “C'mon, mates, let's go an' find a sweet smell to follow!”

Skor stepped gingerly out onto the raftlike network over the chasm. He crouched there wobbling and calling out, “Never mind dancin' around over there, ye scallawag. Get back here an' help me across this contraption!” Fortunately the frame held whilst everybeast made his way across, with Dandy shouting advice.

“Don't look down or shut yore eyes, mates, just keep starin' straight ahead at this side. Ahoy there, Drander, you'll have to tote ole Drogbuk across on yore back, or he'll hang around there 'til next season!”

The ancient hedgehog put up a struggle as Drander heaved him up onto his back. “Lemme go, ye great omadorm—I ain't goin', I tell ye!”

The big young hare held Drogbuk firmly and started out. “Oh, yes, you are, sah, so hold on now. Phew! When was the last time you took a bloomin' bath?”

They gathered on the other side at the continuation of the tunnel. Corporal Welkin Dabbs checked everybeast out quickly. “They're all present an' correct, sah, everyone safe over!”

Captain Rake saluted. “Thank ye, Dabbs. Right, Sergeant, form these bonny lads up an' let's be on our way.”

With torches flaring, they marched off down the gloomy passage, kicking up dust as they went.

Lancejack Sage wiped a paw across her mouth. “I'm absoballylutely dyin' of the thirst, wot!”

Corporal Dabbs, a bit of an old campaigner, gave her some timeworn advice. “Try suckin' a pebble, miss. That should help, wot.”

Sage was in no mood for old remedies. “Oh, go an' boil your blinkin' head, Corp. All that gives you is a dusty mouth. I've tried it.”

Captain Rake spoke out so everybeast could hear. “Och, did Ah hear insubordination an' insult to a corporal? We'll have less o' that, wee lassie. There's no drink or vittles until we're out o' here, is that clear? So if'n ye quit jawin' an' start pawin', mebbe we'll get closer tae guid nourishment!”

This quickened the pace, which after a while became difficult. Young Wilbee complained, “I seem t'be goin' slower. Huh, must be the air in this confounded place, or the lack of it.”

Buff Redspore knew the reason. “It's because we're marchin' uphill. Can't ye feel it?”

Though Skor Axehound was gasping for breath, he sounded happy. “Must mean we're gettin' somewhere. Not much further t'go, eh! Gil, Dreel, go ahead with the Long Patrol tracker. See wot ye can find an' report back. I've got t'have a rest, Rake.”

The captain ordered a short halt.

This time it was Log a Log Dandy who began to go on about food. He started up an old Guosim river ditty. Nobeast tried to stop him, in fact, one or two joined in. It seemed to lighten the mood in all that gloom.

The trackers returned. Buff was behind Gil and Dreel, who reported jointly.

“The way's pretty safe up ahead.”

“Aye, but the tunnel splits off two ways.”

“Er, so we weren't sure which is the right un to take.”

Ambling up, Buff threw a casual salute. “'Cos they never stayed long enough t'jolly well find out, sah. The tunnel we follow is the one with the sweet scent.”

Dandy wrinkled his snout. “Sweet scent, wot sweet scent?”

Buff Redspore allowed herself a huge smile as she explained, “Fresh air, m'friend. What smells sweeter than that after wanderin' about these musty old tunnels, wot!”

The news caused a joyous uproar. Creatures leapt up and made to run off and find the exit tunnel. It was Skor Axehound's booming shouts which stopped them in their tracks.

“Stand steady, there. You ain't had orders t'move off! Try an' behave like warriors—an' that goes for you hogs, too.”

Posy retorted sharply, “Oh, does it really. Well, where have your young scouts run off to, eh?”

Log a Log Dandy chuckled. “Aye, barrelbelly, ye should see to yore Rogue Crew afore shoutin' at others. Where've Gil an' Dreel gone, pray tell?”

The big chieftain's head swivelled this way and that as he enquired of his crew, “Where've those two liddle rips gone?”

Ruggan shrugged. “Prob'ly dashed off to smell the air. Let's hope they take the right tunnel this time. Don't worry about 'em. They'll be waitin' for us out in the open.”

Skor slammed his rudder down hard. “Them young uns are my responsibility. Take yore brother, Swiffo, an' get after 'em afore they come to some harm!”

Ruggan and Swiffo sped off along the tunnel.

After a while, the rest followed at a steady pace, following the upward sloping passage. Young Ferrul was the first to smell anything, even before they reached the junction where the tunnels split. She twiddled her ears with anticipation.

“Oh, I say, chaps, can ye sniff it? Fresh air, it's better'n a fresh strawberry'n'plum fruit salad. Mmmmm!”

At the junction, one tunnel began to slope downward but the other continued to rise. From the latter, there was a summer breeze wafting in.

Sergeant Miggory breathed deeply. “Seasons h'of flowers'n'ferns, sah, h'aint it nice!”

Captain Rake sniffed appreciatively. “Och, 'tis like a wee butterfly kissin' mah nose!” He was almost bowled over by the return of Ruggan and Swiffo, who hurtled down on him, waving their paws for silence.

Skor Axehound scowled at the pair. “Well, did ye find Gil'n'Dreel?”

Keeping his voice low, Ruggan appeared to be stifling laughter. “Aye, sir, they been captured by vermin!”

The sea otter Chieftain waved his battleaxe. “They've what? Been captured by vermin, an' ye think 'tis funny?”

Swiffo stood in his father's path, hastening to explain. “Steady on, Pa. There's only about a score of 'em, runty stoats an' rats. We followed 'em to their camp. It ain't far off, an' guess wot? They're havin' a feast!”

Skor glanced from one to the other. “Ye weren't seen by the vermin, were ye?”

Ruggan smiled cannily. “Of course not, sir. A feast!”

His father caught the irony of the situation. He grinned slyly and licked his axeblade. “I'll wager they'll welcome guests to their feast, eh? Are ye ready, Rake an' Dandy? Come on, let's eat!”

There were actually about thirty vermin, mostly stoats and rats, with a few ferrets. Their camp was on the bank of a stream; both Gil and Dreel were bound to a willow trunk. The young otters did not seem unduly put out, as they had seen Ruggan and Swiffo spying on their captors. A cauldron was bubbling over a fire whilst the brigand vermin prepared food. Some were grilling trout on green twigs; others placed flatbreads on hot stones, whilst some broached a keg of nettle beer. Their leader, a patch-eyed overweight ferret, was discussing his prisoners with an old rat.

“Theez muz be der ones Lord Ketral was chasin' after, ya!”

The old rat bared toothless gums. “Ayarr, but uz catchered dem, so worra we do, Viglat? Give dem ter Ketral, or roast 'em inta vikkles? I ain't never et riverdog, 'ave yew?”

Viglat the patch-eyed ferret grinned. “Ketral won't mizz two liddle uns like dem, wotja t'ink?”

The old rat sniggered. “Riverdogs fer brekkist tamorrer!”

“Ahem!”