They thundered down the hillside en masse, with Nokko and Bisky tearing alongside Bosie. As they went, Bisky was yelling, “What is it, what did ye see down there?”
Bosie rushed on, grim-jawed as he muttered, “Ye’ll see for yerself soon enough, mah friend!”
It was a breakneck charge. Stumbling, dodging, they reached the bottom of the big wooded hill. Some leapt onto the streambank, others went straight into the water, but they recovered quickly, charging into the entrance tunnel.
Bosie, leading the way, was whirling his blade like a drum major, roaring out his warcry. “Eulaliaaa Bowlaynee! Eulaliaaaaaa!”
Bisky swung a loaded sling, Dubble waved his rapier and Nokko held the shaft on his bowstring at the ready. Behind them, the beasts of Gonfelin and Guosim came, everyone armed to the teeth, blood racing, pulses pounding.
They poured out into the big cavern, straight into a mass of carrion birds and reptiles coming the opposite way. As both sides clashed, Bosie pointed through the green fog, calling to Dubble, Bisky and Nokko, “Over yonder, d’ye see? We’ve got tae help them!”
Bisky felt his stomach churn as he viewed the sight which had driven the hare on with such urgency.
Two ropes dangled from the cavern roof, which was so high that the length of the ropes only reached halfway to the floor. Hanging from the ropes were Soilclaw, Burgy and Frubb, holding on to the limp form of Spingo. On the floor, atop a soil heap, lay the still forms of Rooter, Grabul, Ruttur and Friar Skurpul. Unable to hold on to the ropes, they had fallen through the hole in the cave ceiling.
Nokko cast a quick glance upward, his face tight with fear. “Lookit, that big stone’s stuck up there, but it’s gonna come down any moment now!”
Sure enough, the huge, flat sandstone slab was lying on its side, held in the hole by the rubble, either side of it. But the loose earth was raining down, still widening the hole.
Nokko clapped a paw to his brow. “They’re stuck up there, wot are we gonna do?”
Dubble shook his head despairingly. “Nothin’ much we can do, mates, they’re too high up t’be reached, an’ that big stone’s about to drop. Fur’n’blood, wot a terrible mess.”
Behind them, a war to the death was raging, as birds and reptiles tried to break out through the ranks of Guosim and Gonfelins. Bisky faced the problem in front of them, blotting out the sounds of combat from his mind. He concentrated on saving those hanging upon the high ropes.
Suddenly he was acting. Even as the plan formed in his mind, he ran to the hill of rubble, which had fallen from the hole above. “Help me, mates, move these poor moles off this pile of earth, quickly now!”
All four moles were obviously dead. Bosie lifted Friar Skurpul gently, placing him to one side. “Och, the guid old beast, ’tis a cryin’ shame!”
Even though there was a huge lump in Bisky’s throat, he managed to speak firmly. “Time to cry later, Bosie, leave him now and start shoring this pile up. Move!”
Under Bisky’s direction, they pushed the pile into one mass, gathering loose material from around it. Flattening the top off slightly, the young mouse looked upward, gauging the distance.
Dubble looked up aghast. “Yore not thinkin’ of tellin’ ’em to drop down onto that, are ye?”
Bisky found himself roaring at the hapless shrew. “Well, what do you think we should do? Leave them hangin’ up there until that big slab falls down on their heads?” He immediately felt sorry that he had spoken like that to his Guosim friend, and apologised. “I’m sorry, mate, but we’ve got to do something quickly, there’s not much time.”
Bosie was keeping one eye on the battle over by the tunnel. “Och, but what d’ye intend doin’?”
Bisky explained, “We’ll pile this hill of soil a bit higher and flatten off the top. They might stand a chance if they drop onto to it one at a time.”
Nokko, who had remained silent so far, peered up at the creatures hanging from the rope. “But four of ’em are already dead from fallin’ that high. Wot chance ’as me daughter an’ those three brave moles got?”
Bisky replied, having worked it all out in his mind, “The four who died fell right from the ceiling, but our friends up there are already halfway down, they don’t have so far to fall. The soil heap should soften the impact, as long as they come down singly.”
Nokko began levelling off the top of the heap. There was a grating noise from high up; the big stone slab was slipping as more soil leaked away from its sides.
Cupping his paws around his mouth, Bisky yelled, “Burgy, Frubb, drop Spingo down to us!”
The two moles were glad to lose their burden. They released the Gonfelin maid. Bisky and Nokko threw themselves flat on the sides of the heap. Spingo plummeted through space, still senseless as her limp body thudded onto the soil, sending up a cloud of dust. Bisky and Nokko carried her aside.
Bosie nodded his approval. “Ah think the wee lassie took no hurt, ’tis a guid plan. Hi there, Frubb, wait’ll Ah smooth this heap again, yore next!”
Moments later, the mole came hurtling through the air, his eyes tight shut as he thumped onto the makeshift cushion. “Hurr, Oi did et, zurrs, Oi did et!”
Burgy came next—he, too, made a safe landing.
Bisky shouted up to Soilclaw, the last of the molecrew, “Come on, mate, let go of that rope!”
Soilclaw clung on tighter—he was far too scared to release his hold. “Ho, woe am Oi, zurrs, Oi’m gurtly afeared o’ heights. Oi’d loike to letten go of ee rope, but Oi can’t, ’tis a turrible long ways daown to ee floor!”
Dubble realised that the only way Soilclaw would release his hold would be through shock. So the young Guosim screeched up as loud as he could, “The big rock’s fallin’ on ye, mate, leggo o’ the rope!”
With a panicked bellow, Soilclaw let go. “Whooouuuurrr!” Shooting through space like a furry cannonball, he landed bottom-first on the heap. He stood up, dusting himself off as if nothing had happened. “Thurr naow, that diddent hurt Oi!”
Nokko lifted his unconscious daughter, draping her across his shoulders. “Got t’get my liddle darlin’ out inter the fresh air an’ wet ’er face with cold streamwater.”
Bosie took over. “Right, we’ll make a path for ye. Bisky, Dubble, get either side o’ him, we’ll fight our way through tae the tunnel. Eulaliaaa Bowlayneeee!”
Turning, they charged straight into the fray.
Reptiles, birds, Guosim and Gonfelins were locked, tooth to claw and beak to paw, in the tunnel mouth, driving one another back and forth in a wild melee. A sharp-billed chough fluttered down, about to stab its beak into Spingo. Bisky lashed out, breaking its skull with his stone-loaded sling. The Laird Bosie McScutta of Bowlaynee forged gallantly ahead, the light of battle in his eyes as he swung the blade of Martin the Warrior like a scythe, mowing a slaughtered lane through the foebeast. Dubble thrust left and right with his rapier, his battlecry mingling with those of his comrades.
“Logalogalogaloooog! Gonfeliiiin! Redwaaaaallll! Give ’em blood’n’vinegar! No quarter, no surrender!”
Bisky fought on in a crimson haze, biting, kicking, swinging his rock-loaded sling. The only thought uppermost in his mind—to get Spingo out, into clean air and safety.
Now they were into the tunnel. Slow worms, grass snakes and smoothsnakes hissed and snapped viciously in their struggle to escape the caves, only to be met by Zaran, the black otter.
She stood where none could pass, her double-bladed sword dealing out death and destruction to the creatures of Korvus Skurr. Any servant of the Doomwyte who ventured in range of her avenging blades was sent screaming to Hellgates with savage fury.
Bisky managed to shout to her above the hubbub, “We’ve got Spingo, she must get out of here, Zaran!”