Doomwyte

“Roight zurr’n’marm, you’m must fasten ee ropes furmly round ee tree. Far oop as ye can reach!” Taking the other ends of both ropes, Frubb bade Spingo to follow him. They went uphill until he judged the distance straight, and just right. “Hurr, bees you’m a gud treeclimberer, mizzy?”

Scooping up some soil, Spingo rubbed it on her paws. “Huh, good, me? You show me the tree wot needs climbin’, then stand clear, matey!”

The mole indicated two wych elms, either side of him. “Farsten wun to each, gudd’n’igh up.”

True to her word, the Gonfelin maid was an agile climber. She scaled both elms with ease, securing the ropes high, one to each tree.

Returning to the sycamore, Frubb outlined to Bosie and Zaran what was an extremely perilous operation. “You’m takes three more chops apiece at ee tree. Then ’urry back up’ill. Climb up yon h’elms, an’ wait moi signal. Then chop ee ropes, get ee daown an’ run furr you’m loives to yon ’illtop!”

Bosie nodded, putting up his sword. “That sounds clear enough, mah friend, but why do we have tae hurry?”

The mole chuckled. “Hurr hurr, ’cos ee h’entire neighbor’ood bees goin’ to cullapse daown ee ’ole, an’ you’m doan’t wants to goo with et, do ee, zurr?”

Bosie appeared quite indignant at the very idea. “Och, Ah should say not, Ah’ve seen enough o’ that reeky auld cavern, thank ye. Right, mah bonny tree-fellin’ friend, three chops apiece, eh!”

The half-dozen blows were promptly delivered, then they clambered uphill to the wych elms and climbed to their positions, blades ready, close to the ropes. Spingo and Frubb carried on upward, until they reached the crest of the vast wooded hill. The mole turned, watching the woodlands at their back.

Spingo whispered, “Wot happens now, mate?”

Frubb did not take his eyes from the panorama below. “We’m wait, mizzy, wait an’ watch east’ard.”

From his wych elm perch, Bosie called across to Zaran in the other tree, “Ah’m glad hares dinnae have tae live in trees. Thanks tae mah mither Ah wasnae born a squirrel.”

The black otter managed one of her rare smiles. “Aye, me, too, I hope our friend gives the signal soon.”

The hungry hare tasted a leaf and spat it out. “Och, there’s no’ even an apple or a pear growin’ up here. Ye‘d think a tree would at least have the decency tae grow a few nuts for a beast tae keep body’n’fur taegether whilst he’s waitin’!”

Frubb saw the distant treetops beginning to wave. He murmured, “Yurr she cumms, mizzy, ee wind we’m a-waiten on!”

In another moment, Spingo felt the breeze sweep over them. It all happened so quickly. Down below the taut ropes thrummed under the easterly wind.

“Chop ee roooooopes!”

Bosie and Zaran heard Frubb loud and clear. All it took was two sharp slashes, one from each blade. Both beasts scrambled down hastily, with the creak and groan of the sycamore in their ears. It made a noise like a massive rusty door swinging on its hinges. Krrreeeeeaaawwwwwkkkk…craaaack!

It toppled slowly for a moment, seeming to pause for a breathless space. Then the huge sycamore fell.

A shuddering tremor hit the entire hillside, almost knocking Bosie and Zaran flat as they fled for the summit. Spingo watched, openmouthed, as the treetop thundered down the depression, straight into the hole. Loud, sharp cracking noises reverberated around. Branches were snapped from the mighty trunk as it plunged downward through the hole. There was a resounding boom when the slab hit the ground in the cavern below. The hillside collapsed with a dull, nerve-numbing rumble.

Zaran grabbed Spingo, hauling her backward as long, running cracks began raking the hill, leaving deep, forbidding slits in the ground. Accompanied by the sounds of rock striking rock and boiling, bubbling liquid, a whistling jet of sulphured steam shot skyward. Then there was silence.

At the tunnel entrance, Nokko, Garul and Dubble were loading fuel into the fire. They were supplied by a constant stream of creatures, carrying any material which might prove flammable. Garul flung a bundle of dried ferns into the flames. Leaping back, he shielded his face from the backblast of searing heat. “I keep sniffin’ t’see if’n I can smell roasted serpent in there. Wot d’ye think, mate?”

Nokko held a paw to his nostrils. “That’s my scorchin’ whiskers yew kin smell, bucko. Nobeast’d be daft enough to try getting’ through that tunnel. It must be hotter’n ten ovens in there!”

Dubble threw a length of old spruce bark into the blaze. He turned away, wiping bleary tears from his eyes. “Then tell me, wot’s the point of keepin’ a fire goin’ if’n there ain’t no snake in the tunnel, eh?”

Nokko bit a splinter from his paw and spat it out. “T’stop that ould addersnake from comin’ out ’ere an’ scoffin’ us, that’s the point! Aye aye, lissen t’that, sounds like a spot o’ thunder t’me.”