Not since the great snake Asmodeus had there been a serpent so feared in all Mossflower. Long seasons had done nothing to affect the huge reptile’s power, speed or venom. Moreover, the blindness that had been visited on Baliss had only served to enhance all the snake’s other sensory skills. In short, it created a creature that was totally fearless and fearsome, with no natural enemies, only victims.
Korvus Skurr was well satisfied with his plan. He flew off, back to his netherworld of caves, ignorant of one puny smoothsnake. It had lain coiled above his head, disguised by the billowing foliage of the stately elm tree. As soon as Korvus winged away, the little snake began her slithering descent from the elm trunk. Sicariss was no mere head ornament—she, too, had her eyes and ears in the strangest of places.
Other eyes had also witnessed what took place outside the caverns. High on the hillside, the dark beast saw it all. The mysterious watcher drew a strange sword slowly back and forth over a whetsone slab. Little did Korvus Skurr or his scheming smoothsnake know that they were being observed by a creature who was planning their destruction, no matter how long it took. The double-bladed sword hissed softly as it was drawn over the whetstone, sharp and dangerous as the fangs of any reptile, when held in the paws of the dark avenger.
Tarul the raven Wyte had stayed concealed in the Belltower of Redwall Abbey. Stubborn determination kept him there; he had sworn to himself not to leave the Redbrick house without taking with him a prisoner. One of the small earthcrawlers they called Dibbun. But things had not gone well from the start.
First there had been the rain, when hardly anybeast stirred out of doors. His spirits brightened with the arrival of fair weather. However, he soon found himself out of position, isolated in the Belltower, whilst the Dibbuns played, either in the orchard, by the pond or near the Gatehouse. They were generally well watched also.
This Belltower was not a good place, Tarul thought to himself. At least four times daily he had to cower in the furthest corner, with his head tucked tight beneath one wing. This was because of the burly hedgehog called Spikkle. At set intervals he would come in to ring the twin bells, at midnight, dawn, high noon and sunset. For a long time after each session of peals, the Raven Wyte’s head would resound with bell echoes.
But that was not all. It was hunger and thirst which beset Tarul most of all. Once he had been about to sample the fruits of the orchard, when he spied the long-eared one strolling in the grounds. Tarul feared him greatly, having seen the damage he could wreak with his strange weapon, which fired sharp, metal sticks.
So he remained in the Belltower, growing gaunt with starvation, and ill with headaches, but still foolishly obstinate. Thinking of the praise he would gain, from being the most daring of Wytes.
Then one morning, the burly spikehog did not appear to ring the dawn bells. Tarul stirred his bedraggled feathers hopefully. Believing that his luck was about to change, he posted himself by the upper window of the tower, eagerly awaiting any development. Throughout the golden spring morn he watched the grounds below. The chance came at midday, when most of the Redbrick house dwellers gathered in the orchard to eat lunch. Both his hated foes, the spikehog and longears, accompanied by a party of others, left the orchard, hurrying off indoors.
Then two of the Dibbuns finished lunch and trolled off across the lawns, totally unwatched by elders. Excitement bubbled in Tarul’s chest when he saw where they were heading. Straight to the belltower! Hopping about eagerly, the Raven Wyte positioned himself slightly above both bells, ready to pounce. Luckily, the door below was ajar and both the little creatures entered with ease. It was Furff the infant squirrel and the very tiny mousebabe. They went straight to the trailing bellropes, seizing one apiece, tugging for all they were worth.
Tarul decided quickly. He could only manage one captive, in his weakend state; so, he would swoop down, slay the squirrel and capture the mousebabe. Being the smaller it would prove far less difficult. The raven stifled his cackles, listening to the pair below.
“A lunchertime be gone now, worra use us ringin’ bells?”
The very tiny mousebabe tugged even harder, still with no result. “A case anyone doesn’t not knows it lunchertime. Cummon, lazytail, pull ’arder willya!”
“I are pullin’ ’arder, but no bells aren’t ringin’!”
Then the unexpected happened. Sister Violet had seen the Dibbuns leave the orchard. She went after them. Tarul had missed seeing her, through hopping about in delight. The plump, jolly hedgehog tippawed up, surprising both Dibbuns.
Furff gritted her little teeth, still heaving on the bellrope. “Grrr, us ringin’ a bells fer lunch, Sissy Vi!”
The hedgehog Sister reached above their paws, taking a firm grip on both ropes as she assisted the Dibbuns. “Oh well, you’ll need to be a few seasons older, and eat all yore veggibles, just like me. C’mon now, all together. One…two…pullll!”
Babongbongggg!
The brazen rims of the Matthias and the Methusaleh bells (named after two long-gone heroes) struck the Raven Wyte either side of his head. Tarul died with the echo of the joint peals ringing through his skull. He toppled from the beam he had been perched upon, like a dark bundle of tattered rags plunging from the top of the Belltower. Sister Violet had the presence of mind to glance upward. She saw the falling object, and pushed both Dibbuns back against the wall.
Shielding them with her flowing habit, Violet stared in dumbstruck horror at the slain raven. The very tiny mousebabe peered from under the garment’s wide hem. “Huh, no wunner d’bells wuddent ring.”
Unaware of the drama that was being enacted in the Belltower, both parties of questers carried on their search in the gloomy underground tunnels. Skipper, Bisky and Umfry plodded along the left passageway, constantly avoiding entangling roots, dripping water and rough chunks of flint, which stuck out at every angle. Umfry spoke his thoughts aloud as they pressed onward.
“Huh, ’ope we don’t lose h’our way back, we must’ve come miles h’out o’ the way.”
Skipper chuckled. “We can ’ardly lose our way back, ’cos this is the only tunnel we’ve travelled along.”
The burly, young hedgehog was still not convinced. “But suppose h’it splits two ways h’again, h’I bet it’d be h’easy t’get lost then, eh, Bisk?”
His young mousefriend scoffed, “If that happens, Umf, we’ll fret about it then. Yore a proper ole worrywart, mate!”
Skipper sniffed the atmosphere. “The air seems t’be gettin’ fresher down ’ere. Are you thinkin’ wot I am, young Bisky?”
Umfry interrupted, “You mean that there’s a way out h’into the fresh air h’up yonder somewheres!”
The Otter Chieftain held his lantern up, winking at Bisky. “Our Umfry ain’t as green as he looks. Mark my words, that hog’ll go far someday!”
Umfry sat down where the floor was dry, massaging his footpaws. “H’I’ve gone far h’enough for one day, thankee, Skip. Let’s take h’a liddle rest.”
Bisky and Skipper joined him. From where they were seated, the passage before them appeared to run straight, without any twists or turns. Resting his chin on both paws, Umfry declared gloomily, “Huh, this blinkin’ tunnel must go h’on forever!”
Bisky squinted into the passage as he consulted the Otter Chieftain. “How good are yore eyes, Skip?”
Skipper shrugged. “Not as good as they used t’be, why?”
Bisky pointed down the tunnel. “Somewhere along there I thought I saw a glint o’ light. Might’ve been a sunray shinin’ through!”
Umfry wrinkled his snout after a perfunctory glance. “H’I can’t see anythin’ from ’ere.”
Bisky was already up, hurrying forward, with Skipper following, upbraiding Umfry as he went.