High Rhulain

15

Dawn brought pale-washed skies, drizzle and a layer of mist over windless land and sea. The cavern beneath the ledges was thick with acrid smoke. Leatho Shellhound skidded in, striving with rudder and paw to hold his balance on the glistening floor.

Big Kolun Galedeep held tight to the rocky walls, the smoke stinging his eyes as he coughed and yelled out to Banya Streamdog, “Git some torches lit an’ fetch ’em in here, will ye!”

Both he and the outlaw sea otter hung on, gagging and spluttering until a half-dozen torches were brought.

Kolun rubbed his streaming eyes, staring about him in the flickering light and deep shadow. “Wot’n the name o’ fur’n’rudders has been goin’ on here?”

Banya held her torch high as she held on to a ledge. “The place is empty. There ain’t nobeast anywhere!”

Leatho slid across to the hanging curtain of vegetation which screened the cave from the sea. From there he pondered the scene before him. “Seaweed an’ damp wood have been piled on the big cookin’ fire to make all this smoke. I can’t say wot this slippery mess all over the floor is.”

Lorgo Galedeep dipped a paw in the slime, sniffing at it several times before hazarding a guess. “Smells like Gullyplug Punch an’ seafood stew, an’ leftovers mixed with veggible oil. But where’s our families? D’ye think Felis an’ the cats took ’em all prisoner?”

Big Kolun dispelled the idea with a snort. “No, never! My missus an’ the others wouldn’t have been taken without a fight. Look around, mate. D’ye see any slain or wounded beasts from either side layin’ about? There’s not even a trace o’ blood, the place is empty. Ahoy there, Shellhound, where are ye off to?”

Leatho had parted the trailing curtain and plunged into the mist-shrouded sea. He surfaced a short distance from the cave. “Yore right, mate. They weren’t ambushed, even though I noticed lots o’ cat signs outside by the land entrance. There’s a good chance yore families escaped. We’d best start a search for them. You Streamdivers an’ Wavedogs, come with me. Kolun, take the rest an’ follow along the coast. See if’n ye can pick up any trails.”

The clans of the Streamdivers and Wavedogs formed a spreadout phalanx behind the outlaw. They swam smoothly along the quiet coastal waters, watching for any signs of life. There was no letup in the dull early morn. Mist and drizzle persisted, limiting both sound and vision in the calm, waveless sea. Worries, doubts and fears for their families plagued the clanbeasts’ minds. Was Leatho right in his supposition, had their loved ones avoided the murderous wildcat? Leatho pressed on into the enveloping mist, listening keenly for the slightest hopeful sound.

The tall, ragged rocks of a headland loomed up out of the gloom. The clanbeasts swam in Leatho’s wake as he changed course seaward. There was a space of open water between the cape and a massive dark rock that stood apart from it.

Raising his voice, the outlaw yelled an otterclan cry: “Yaylaaahoooooooo!”

An echo bounced back from the rock. A moment’s silence followed, broken only by the lap of water against stone.

Then a booming call rang out. “Hawooooooom!”

Leaving his comrades behind, Leatho cut the water speedily. He headed for the rock and a hulking figure perched upon it. Once he could make out the nature of the creature, he returned its greeting. “Yaylaaahooo! Gawra Hom! Hawooooom!”

The grey bull seal, Gawra Hom, threw back his head and reared up. “Hawoooom! Glokglokglok!”

Just then, Kolun’s boat emerged from around the side of the rock. It was packed with little ones, all showing off what they had learned as they pulled the oars lustily.

Deedero, Kolun’s missus, was at the tiller. She waved to the grey seal. “Many thanks to ye, Gawra Hom!”

She turned to the outlaw, paws akimbo. “Well, Mister Shellhound, you took yore time gettin’ here! There’s pore weary families sittin’ in the rain on the other side o’ this rock. D’ye reckon y’might rescue ’em some time this season, or is that too much to ask, eh?”

Relief flooded through Leatho as he threw the sturdy ottermum a mock salute with his rudder. “Right ye are, marm. We’ll get ’em off there, marm!”

He gave another salute to Gawra Hom. “If’n I can ever help ye, mate, just give me a call. Yore a goodbeast, Gawra Hom.”

The big grey bull waved a flipper. “Hoooom wharraawoooooh !”

As the mist began thinning, Deedero spied Big Kolun and the clanbeast swimming out from the shore to the rock. She glared at him, calling to him dryly, “Ahoy there, ye great sloprudder! Are you goin’ to play about there all day, an’ leave yore family marooned? Or are ye thinkin’ about rescuin’ ’em?”

Cheerfully, the big Galedeep otter waved a meaty paw. “Ho, but it does me ’eart good t’see yore charmin’ face, me liddle thistleblossom. Rest yore dainty paws, we’ll soon have ye home’n’dry!”

It took some considerable time to get the families safely ashore. The elders and the very young were exhausted from their nighttime flight through the dark sea and the time they had spent clinging to the rock.

When the task was accomplished, Banya Streamdog asked the question that was uppermost in everybeast’s mind. “We can’t go back t’the caves or the tall stones anymore. So where do we hide all these families?”

Leatho was at a loss, but Ould Zillo the Bard had an answer. “Sure, an’ why not take ’em all to Holt Summerdell?”

Everybeast knew the name, Holt Summerdell, through an old song that was sung around the fires at night.

Deedero looked askance at the bard. “There ain’t no such place. Holt Summerdell’s only a nice song. It ain’t real, is it?”

Zillo tapped his nose knowingly. “Ah, but that’s where yore wrong, marm. I knows it’s a real place. My grandpa showed it t’me when I was only a liddle snip. But I remember exactly where it is. Y’see, Holt Summerdell was a holiday home of the clans afore the cats came to Green Isle. Aye, an’ a grand ould time they used to have there all summer long. But ’tis long forgotten now—except in the song. There’s only meself knows where ’tis, an’ I’m the bucko that can take ye there. It lies inland, beyond Deeplough in the highlands, a fair stretch o’ the paws. Though if’n we set out now, I could have ye there soon after dusk. Well, Shellhound, what d’ye think?”

Leatho picked up one of Kolun’s brood, a tiny ottermaid. He set her on his shoulders. “Don’t seem we’ve got much choice. Lead on, matey!”

They struck off inland, with the rain still drizzling, though the mist was breaking up into patches over the valleys and woodlands. Zillo kept their spirits up by tapping out the pace on his rudderdrum and singing the song about Holt Summerdell.

“All the long-ago seasons we loved high up there,

in those warm afternoons an’ the sweet evenin’ air,

alas though they’re past I remember it well,

that dear little spot we called Holt Summerdell.

When ye’d rise in the mornin’ the air was like wine,

through the curtain came stealin’ the golden sunshine,

with the twayblade the clubrush the burr an’ the sedge,

round the clear crystal waters that flow o’er the edge.

Ye could ride on the slide there or sport in the pool,

where trout roamed the deep reeds so green an’ so

cool,

on some flat mossy rock ye could lie there an’ bask, as

the ould ones would say, now wot more could ye ask?

But the times are all fled like a mayfly’s short day,

though sometimes within me a small voice will say

go follow yore dream to the place ye loved well,

that dear little spot we call Holt Summerdell.” ’

The otterbabe riding on Leatho’s shoulders whispered in his ear, “Uz gunner go ta H’old Suddermell? Soun’s ferry nice!”

The outlaw tickled the little one’s footpaw. “Aye, darlin’, I’m sure Mister Zillo will take us there.”

The old bard chuckled. “Sure I’ll take ye there, right enough. Wait’ll ye see it! Then ye’ll wonder how anybeast doubted me.”

The outlaw nodded. “I don’t doubt ye, Zillo. Tell me, though, how did ye manage to escape from the cave without Felis harmin’ or capturin’ anybeast?”

Ould Zillo shrugged. “ ’Twas all Deedero’s doin’. Ye recall how ye left me’n’her in charge afore ye went off? Huh, I didn’t have much say in the runnin’ o’ things at all. That big ottermum just took over. Aye, an’ ’tis just as well she did, mate. Let nobeast ever tell me that Deedero Galedeep ain’t got a head on her shoulders!”

Kolun tapped Zillo on the shoulder from behind. “Go on, tell us how my missus did it.”

The bard had to smile as he recalled the deeds of Deedero. “Sure, ’twas worth writin’ a ballad about. First thing she did was to get yore boat pulled up alongside the cave. Then she fed all the little ’uns an’ bedded ’em down in it so they were out o’ harm’s way. Then she split us into two groups. I was in charge of the gang who went out collectin’ seaweed an’ water-logged driftwood. We had to stack it all by the main cookin’ fire. Next thing she had us doin’ was pourin’ all o’ Birl Gully’s punch into the seafood stew, that an’ a jar o’ veggible oil an’ any other leftovers we could find. I tell ye, Kolun, that missus o’ yores should’ve been a warlord!”

Leatho pressed the bard. “Go on, wot did she do then?”

Zillo took up the tale again. “Lissen t’this. Deedero takes her gang out by the land entrance o’ the cave. They strip all the branches from two blackthorns, the ones with the big sharp spikes. So she lays ’em out, where any foebeast would tread on ’em in the dark. Then she posts some o’ the wives close t’the cave an’ tells ’em to report to her any sudden yowls or miaows.”

Leatho interrupted. “But supposin’ it would’ve been us comin’ back to the cave ahead of Felis. What then?”

Birl Gully roared out laughing. “Harrharrharr! That would’ve been yore bad luck, mate. But as it ’appens, things turned out right. ’Twas the wildcat an’ his guards who came chargin’ along that way. Harrharrharr!”

Zillo continued. “Must’ve been close to midnight when our sentries ’eard the yowls an’ catcalls. They hurried back, an’ Deedero sent everybeast off into the sea, pushin’ the boat away up the coast. The little ’uns thought it was no end o’ fun. Now there was only me’n’Deedero left there. She orders me to heap the seaweed an’ dampwood on the fire. Right away there’s smoke billowin’ everywhere. I saw Deedero take a long pole an’ push the big cauldron over, topplin’ it all over the floor. It smelled pretty strong, I can tell ye. Well, that was it. Me’n’Deedero got out o’ there an’ went swimmin’ after the others . . . leavin’ Riggu Felis an’ his catguards t’clean up after us, o’ course!”

Leatho thumped his rudder down in admiration. “Blood’n’thunder, I think we’ll have to call yore missus General Deedero from now on, Kolun!”

The big otter tucked his oar under one arm, puffing out his chest proudly. “Aye, an’ to think she chose me as her husband. Yowch!”

Deedero had caught up with them and stepped on Kolun’s rudder. “Quick march there, dumblepaws, step out lively. An’ you two, Zillo an’ Shellhound, stop skylarkin’ about an’ move yourselves. If’n we don’t get these little ’uns someplace safe by dark, with good hot vittles in ’em an’ a pillow to lay down their heads on, it ain’t no wildcat ye’ll have to worry about. It’ll be me. Understood?”

They stepped out smartly, saluting all the way.

“Aye, marm, very good marm!”

“We’re kickin’ up a bit o’ dust now, marm!”

“Now don’t ye fret, me liddle apple dumplin’, everythin’s goin’ right to plan. Ouch! Will ye stop stampin’ on me rudder like that, er, my sweet honeybee.”

Riggu Felis would have stamped his paw with rage had it not been for the broken blackthorn spike embedded in it. He roared up at the first guard he saw passing a window inside the fortress.

“Open the main gate! Get Atunra and Pitru down here! What in the name of slaughter’n’fangs is going on here? Why are all these otterslaves camped outside in the open? Get that gate open on the double, or I’ll rip ye in half with my own two paws!”

Weilmark Scaut assisted the limping warlord up onto the pier. There was a wild scurry of paws from inside. Then the main gates creaked open.

The wildcat howled at the clutter of catguards milling about within, “You, you, you and you! Get those otterslaves locked back in their compound right now. You, scorecat, attend me!”

The feral cat in question marched up and came to rigid attention. “Lord!”

Hot, angry eyes glared through the chain mail at her. “What do they call you?”

She gulped. “Scorecat Rinat, Sire.”

Her face was sprayed with spittle as Felis thrust aside his face mask and yelled at her, “Get these guards back inside their barracks immediately! Where is my counsellor, Atunra? Where’s that useless son of mine? Why isn’t he here to meet me, eh?”

Rinat’s voice trembled nervously as she replied, “The Fortress Commander is with Lady Kaltag in her chamber, Sire.”

The wildcat shoved her roughly aside. Limping toward the stairs, he struck out at catguards with his axe handle. “Out! Out all of ye, back to your barracks!”

Balur and his sister Hinso were on guard outside of the chamber. Acting on Pitru’s orders, they challenged Riggu Felis. “Halt there, we must announce you!”

Grabbing both guards, the enraged warlord hurled them headfirst down the stairs. With his axe, he dealt the door a blow that left it toppled on one hinge. Scorecat Yund was inside the chamber with Kaltag and Pitru, who signalled him with a sideways glance. He turned, holding his spear horizontally at chest height, barring the wildcat’s path. Without breaking his limping stride, the warlord wrenched the weapon from Yund’s grasp and smashed it in two halves on his head. Lifting the scorecat bodily, Riggu flung him down the stairs also. Now, with no guards left to block him, Riggu confronted his son. His breath from behind the chain mail mask hissed viciously.

Pitru had never seen his father so wrathful. He moved swiftly behind his mother’s chair, crying out, “Stop him, he means to kill me, just like he slew Jeefra!”

The Lady Kaltag faced Riggu fearlessly, her voice calm and slightly ironical. “I stood at my window and watched your arrival. There was no sign of captive otters, bound tightly, being dragged back here for punishment. What happened to your footpaw? Were you wounded doing battle with the foe?”

Riggu Felis stumped over to a table and perched upon its edge. He took a knife from a plate of half-eaten fish and began probing at his footpaw with it. “This is nothing, a broken thorn. Where is Atunra? I need to consult with her.”

Kaltag ignored the question, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she sniffed the air. “What is that horrible smell you bring into my chamber?”

The warlord continued digging at his footpaw, sweeping aside his cloak, which was getting in the way. “Where, what foolishness is this, what smell?”

Pitru pointed at his father. “It’s all over the back of his cloak. Some kind of slop, that’s causing the smell!”

Kaltag’s smile was humourless and icy. “Did those who wounded you also do that—plaster you with filth?”

Riggu Felis grunted as he pulled out the broken blackthorn spike. “A thorn, that’s all it was, a thorn I stepped on!” Skirting the question of his cloak, he pursued his former enquiry. “Where is Atunra? Send her to me now.”

Kaltag shrugged carelessly. “She is of no consequence to me. I have not seen her since you marched away from here to destroy your enemies.”

The wildcat’s blazing eyes sought out his son. “What have you done with Atunra, you little worm?”

Pitru could not meet his father’s gaze, but he was regaining his confidence. He stared at his mother, addressing her in wide-eyed innocence. “Tell him I know nought of his pine marten lackey. As Fortress Commander, I was far too busy organising the defences against the enemies he was supposed to have defeated. I am not Atunra’s nursemaid. Why should I watch over her?”

There was a clatter of dishes as Riggu drove the knifepoint deep into the tabletop. “You stupid young brat! Is that what you call organising defences—allowing half the otterslaves to wander about outside the walls and letting a load of guards idle their time away indoors, eating and sleeping? Hah, Commander! All you’ll ever be is a silk-clad kitten, cringing behind your mother’s skirts!”

Kaltag’s voice dripped scorn as she came to Pitru’s defence. “Well, I hope he never becomes a warlord like you, skulking back here with a wounded paw and a stinking cloak! Where are all the prisoners you vowed to bring back? Scorecat Yund noticed you returned twenty-one guards short. What happened to them, O Mighty One, eh? At least we weren’t attacked, thanks to Pitru’s defence plans!”

Her words stung the wildcat worse than blackthorn spikes. He knew he had lost the argument and was not prepared to bandy further. However, he was determined to have the final word as he swept out of the chamber.

“I’ve ordered the guards back to their barracks and the slaves back to their compound. It is my command that they stay there. I will seek out Atunra now. If any harm has befallen her by either of your doings, then you will see just how merciless a warlord can be!”

Riggu Felis found Weilmark Scaut awaiting him alone on the pier. He barraged him with orders. “Search my fortress from top to bottom, and all the surrounding area. Use all your guards to do it. Find Atunra and bring her to me, dead or alive. I’ll be in my chambers. As of tomorrow, we will no longer seek out the otters.”

Scaut looked puzzled. “Lord?”

The wildcat ripped off his muddied cloak and threw it into the lake, watching the water carry it under. “Why chase about after a bunch of outlaws? I’ll make them come here to me. Don’t look so blank, Scaut. I have what they want—this fortress and a whole lot of otterslaves. Mark my words, they’ll come. Fortunately for me, otters are noble creatures. They won’t leave their own kind in slavery. They’ll make an attempt to liberate them.”