Doomwyte

Spingo shook her head ruefully. “No. But long, long ago only the best thieves’n’warriors was ever allowed t’go to Redwall. Hah, they snuck in an’ stole some great stuff. But my da’s ole granda put a stop to it, said it was too dangerous, an’ we should live our own lives. Ferget that Abbey, an’ leave the Redwallers to theirselves. So, that’s wot Gonfelins do.”

Bisky sensed the regret in her voice, so he asked, “Would you like to go there someday, Spingo? I could show you around, you’d probably love it.”

She was about to reply, when a clamour broke out up near the cave entrance. Spingo grabbed her new friend’s paws. “Wot’s all that kerfuffle about? C’mon, we’d better go an’ take a look!”

Pikehead Nokko was trying to gain order from a crowd of Gonfelin mice, who were leaping about, yelling and brandishing their sandbags. Nokko walloped a few paws and backs, roaring at them, “Will youse shutyer gobs an’ let Duggo make ’is report? Now shurrup, or I’ll lay yez all out!” Most of the noise died down; Nokko pointed the sandbag at his scout and intelligence gatherer. “Now tell us wot yer saw, me ould son.”

Duggo pranced about a lot, gesticulating as he delivered his summary in a speedy jumble. “Saw? I’ll tell yer wot I saw, Da. It’s those Painty Ones agin, in the clearin’ not far from the five-top oak. The blinkin’ blaggids, they’re ambushin’ some sherrews, jus’ like that’n there!” He pointed to Dubble before hurrying on. “Aye, a whole gang o’ sherrews, an’ some others.”

Nokko glared fiercely at him. “Wot others, son?”

The scout continued, “Well, Da, there’s a big riverdog, a long-eared rabbet, a young treejumper an’ a couple o’ mouses, jus’ like us an’ ’im, wot ye catchered.”

Bisky interrupted, “They sound like my friends, are they dead or wounded, tell me!”

Duggo shrugged rapidly, several times. “I dunno, never got close enough t’see, but there’s enough Painty Ones t’make scragmeat o’ yore pals! Loads o’ the likkle rats, in the trees all round the clearin’, they’ve got poison dart blowers, too!”

Bisky grabbed Nokko’s paw. “My friends are in danger, and those shrews are most likely Dubble’s Guosim tribe, you’ve got to let us go and help them!”

Nokko wrenched himself from the young mouse’s grip. “Now ’old ’ard there, bucko me laddo, yew ain’t goin’ anywhere….” He paused. “Oh no, not wirrout us! Arm yerselves fer war an’ swipin’s, Gonfelins! There’s blood t’be shed an’ loot t’be taken!”

Gobbo stared at his father oddly. “But, Da, we ain’t the friends o’ sherrews an’ Redwallers. Wot’s the point of gettin’ injured or slayed fer them?”

Nokko seized his objectionable son, buffeting his ears soundly as he drummed home the lesson. “Lissen, mouth almighty, Painty Ones are our mortal foes, so anybeast who’s an enemy o’ them is a friend o’ mine, see!”

Dubble could not help voicing his fears. “But I can’t see ye defeatin’ ’em with sandbags, sir.”

Nokko chortled. “Hoho, we only uses sambags amongst ourselves. Gonfelins goes to war wid the real gear. Bring out the bows’n’lances, an’ make sure yer carryin’ stranglin’ nooses!”

Bisky was in the vanguard along with Dubble and Nokko. Running at his side was Spingo, who, despite her da’s orders, insisted on coming. Bisky was armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows, though he did not know whether he would be any good with them, never having been familiar with archery. As they charged through the woodlands, Bisky noted that even Spingo, besides toting a lance, was armed with a strangling noose. This was the other weapon, beside sandbags, which Gonfelins carried as a matter of course. He nodded at the tough, greased vine, with its bone toggles, which was looped about her waist. “Can you use that thing, Spingo?”

The mousemaid winked at him. “Been taught since I was a babe, Da made me practice on raw veggibles, until I could cut through a big turnip. I’ve never had t’use it, but I’ll wager I could take anybeast’s ’ead off at the neck, if’n I had to, Bisky.”

Nokko commented, “She could, too, my Spingo’s a good liddle daughter, a rare beauty. Now belt up yer gobs an’ get those paws a-runnin’, or we might miss half the fun an’ most o’ the loot!”

Duggo, who had gone slightly ahead of the main body, halted and waved his lance. “The clearin’s straight ahead, Da, we should be there soon. Wot’s the orders?”

Nokko held up a double-headed hatchet, which he was carrying. “Halt ’ere! Duggo an’ Twiggo, take a score apiece. Creep round the back o’ the trees, get be’ind those Painty Ones an’ lay low, wait on my warshout. Bisky, Dubble, Bumbo an’ Gobbo, we’ll charge the centre, then spread out into two wings. Righto, buckoes, lay low ’til Duggo an’ Twiggo gets their crews inter position.”

In the distance, the mocking chants and screeching threats of the Painted Ones grew in volume. Nokko ignored them, laying out the ground rules of Gonfelin warfare for the benefit of Bisky, Dubble and anybeast inclined to listen.