Rusvul steadied a large cooking pot with one paw. "All carryin' lighted torches, I 'ope?"
Janglur winked at his warrior friend. "Aye, matey, pretty as a twinklin' nest o' fireflies. Let's give it to 'em. One, two, three . . . Now!"
On Janglur's signal, a blend of heated cooking oil, vegetable oilused as lantern fueland any kind of waste oil or grease from kitchen or repair shop was heaved over the top. The outside of the entire east wall lit up with a tremendous whoosh as the hot oil met the battery of blazing torches. Both vermin and ropes went up in a crackling sheet of flame.
Janglur sat beside Rusvul and Bargle in the shelter of the ramparts, eyes streaming from the thick coils of black smoke wreathing about them. The squirrel warrior shook his head regretfully, raising his voice above the agonized shrieks of the vermin. " 'Tis a terrible thing to 'appen to anybeast, mates, terrible!"
Florian came scuttling up to join them, bringing a jug of cold mint tea, which they passed from one to the other. The hare wiped his mouth with the back of a paw. "Hmm, dreadful, I agree, but the blighters brought it upon themselves. I say, move over, you chaps, the verminll have somethin' else on their bally minds soon. Here comes Foremole with his stalwarts to chuck stones on 'em. Hah! Looks like my Noonvalers have joined 'em. What ho, Runk old lad, you taken to bein' a mole now?"
Roop and Muggle stifled giggles at the thought.
"Hurr hurr, 'twould take summ doin' t'be a spoiky mole, zurr!"
Runktipp helped the moles to lug large baskets of rock and masonry chunks over to the battlements. He winked at Florian. "I'm as good a mole as the next 'un. We all are. Ain't that right, Borrakul?"
The otter nodded stolidly as he hefted a basket. "Aye, we certainly are, matey, an' moles get better fed than performers, I can tell ye!"
Florian snorted. "Cheeky bounder. Go on then, be moles, all of ye, see if I jolly well care!"
Runktipp put on his best mole accent. "Gurr, Foremole zurr, do us'n's be abowt ready naow?"
Foremole waved a digging claw to his crew and the Noonvalers. "Hurr, moi 'earties, chuck umm o'er gudd'n'ard naow!"
On Foremole's command the joint crew of moles and performers grabbed the baskets and slung them forcefully over the parapet, scattering the contents on the attackers below.
Rimrose and others brought cool damp towels up to the defenders, who wiped their eyes and bathed their faces gratefully. Rimrose clasped Janglur's paw. "Somebeast told me that Skipper's out there. Oh dear, I do hope he's all right. D'you think they've captured him?"
Janglur chided his wife gently. "There y'go agin, worry worry all the time. First 'tis Song an' her friends, now it's Skipper's turn. I tell you, beauty, that ole riverdog's safe as a nut in its shell. He'd have a good laugh if'n he could see you now, frettin' an' fussin' o'er him. Skipper can take care of hisself better'n I can, believe me."
Rimrose bathed Janglur's heavy-lidded eyes carefully. "Well, if you say so I suppose Skipper's safe. I'm thankful that Song an' those two other young 'uns are well out o' this."
The squirrel warrior squeezed his wife's paw lightly. "Those three? Huh, I'll wager they're somewheres snug along a riverbank, feedin' their faces an' singing round a campfire!"
Rimrose smiled and nodded. "Aye, an' our Song's the one who'll be doing the singin'. Oh, mister Florian, let me bathe your eyes for you, they look sore."
Florian adopted his brave face, though his eyes were indeed streaming from the oily smoke. "Most kind of ye, marm. Confounded little smudge in the coiner of me left lamp here, p'raps you can get it. Nothin' like the thistledown touch of a pretty squirrel, wot wot!"
Mayon came from the south wall and reported everything quiet. Friar Butty, who had been watching the west wall, said the same. Janglur looked over to the north wall, where the Guosim shrew Splikker was stationed. "Wot's wrong with ole Splikker? Looks like he's lissenin' hard over there. Go an' see if anythin's amiss, Bargle."
The shrew slid off, crouching low. After a brief conversation with his comrade he came hurrying back. "Splikker reckons there's a steady noise over that way, comin' from nearby. Sounds like they're choppin' at somethin'."
Janglur and Rusvul went to the north wall to investigate. They crouched low alongside Splikker, listening to the steady ring of ax against timber. A leaf landed on Janglur's head. The squirrel studied it, then popped up to chance a quick scan of the woodland. He sat back down again, gnawing worriedly at his lip.
Rusvul looked at him. "Somethin's wrong, mate. What're they up to?"
Janglur passed him the leaf. "Oak! They're choppin' away at an ole giant three-topped oak. If'n it falls the wall could be breached, an' then we'd 'ave our paws full tryin' to stop 'em comin' in. We'll need t'get our thinkin' caps on, Rus. They could maybe fell a tree that size by tomorrer mornin' or midday."
Somewhere in the depths of Mossflower Wood, Skipper gritted his teeth as he sat on a streambank, tugging a broken spear from his leg. As he pulled, the otter Chieftain was giving himself a good telling-off. "Uuunj! Puddle-'eaded ole rivergo, that's wot you are, matey. Fancy, a great big lump like yoreself gittin' caught off guard by a lousy painted varmint. Ooh! Easy now, messmate, out she comes. Aaaaah . . . there now! Ferret spear ain't made that could lay a decent otter low. That'll teach yer t'jump quicker nex' time, an' keep yore eyes peeled too!" He sorted through the plants he had garnered from nearby. "Hmm, dockleaves, sanicle an' young burdock. That should do."
Crushing them together with pawfuls of bankmud, he applied the cooling poultice to his injured limb and bound the lot with a strip from his jerkin.
"Liddle Sister Sloey'd 'ave a fit if'n she saw this sloppy job, but it'll have t'do fer now. Right, set sail, matey, in we go!"
He slid awkwardly into the stream. Once in the water, however, the otter swam slowly and gracefully away into the night, going in the opposite direction to Redwall Abbey.
Only two creatures at a time could chop at the great oak. At first Vannan had set four to the task, but they got in each other's way until two suffered ax cuts. Raventail snorted impatiently at the Marlfox. "Kyre, arr, yousay bigtree be half dead, no takelong. Yakkacha!"
Vannan regarded the barbarian ferret disdainfully. "The tree is half dead, 'twill fall sooner or later. Patience seems to me a much better idea than charging in like your lot did. Screaming and yelling, with lighted torches to advertise your presence, what kind of stealth attack is that? They were ready for us long before we arrived at the wall."
Raventail took a pace back, executing a scornful bow. "Woah! Bigmagic fox be cleverer much much, scyoosee me!"
Vannan ignored the jibe, signaling to two water rats. "You and you, take over chopping. I'll make it work this time!"
As the water rats stepped in to take over from the two ferrets currently wielding the axes, a big arrow from a longbow felled one of the vermin.
On the walltop, Janglur fitted another shaft to his powerful weapon. "Ain't much to aim at, Rus, but 'tis all we can do to stop 'em."
Rusvul Reguba sighted down the arrow on his bow, then let the string slack with a sigh. "Tchaaaah! They could hide be'ind that oak an' chop away all season. Not much we can do about it, mate. The tree's goin' to fall sooner or later fer sure!"
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Act 3
The Queens Island