"A sign, 'tis a sign! Mokkan is the rightful ruler! Hail High King Mokkan! Hail High King Mokkan!"
The last Marlfox of all turned to face his army, with a look combining tragedy, innocence and surprise. "She slipped. I tried my best to hold onto her, but she slipped! Alas, I could do nothing to save her. Lantur was taken by the spirit of the lake!"
Wilce and Ullig appealed to the crowd.
" 'Tis a sign, the lake judged her unfit!"
"Aye, Mokkan rules! Hail High King Mokkan!"
Soon everybeast joined in, shouting themselves hoarse until the din rang across the island.
In the slave pens the otter shook his head woefully at the aged mouse. "So that one's back, eh? I wonder 'ow Mokkan murdered the murderer? I think I'd sooner be a slave than a Marlfox, you live a little longer."
The old mouse shrugged, resting his head against the bars. "Don't be too sure of it, pal. How long d'ye think we're goin' to last with Mokkan as King around here?"
Chapter 31
Morning sunlight shimmered on the river. Megraw balanced on the rail of the raft, watched by everybeast aboard. The osprey flapped his reset wing experimentally, then, slightly doubtful, he set his fierce eye upon Gawjo. "Mah wing still hurts. Are ye sure et's fixed?"
"Sure I'm sure," the old squirrel warrior assured his patient. "The wing's bound to hurt, 'tis stiff through bein' idle. Ye'll have to try usin' it. Go on!"
Megraw launched himself from the rail. Flapping madly, he flew a short distance, then crashed into the river. Torrab and Song extended a long punting pole to him, and Megraw grabbed it in his beak, allowing himself to be pulled up onto the bank. He stood shaking water from his plumage. "Ach, ah kin fly, ah'm sure o' et, but ye lot are mekkin' me nervous, stannin' there watchin' me. Gang aboot yer bizness an' leave me tae mahself!"
"Sure I've seen everythin' now," Burble muttered to one of the big hedgehogs. "An eagle who's too shy to fly? Yiss yiss, that's the blinkin' limit!"
Dann threw a paw about the watervole's shoulders. "Oh, let him be, Burb. Come on, Torrab an' the gang are goin' to show us how t'make hodgepodge pie."
In the cabin the hedgehogs were tossing anything they could find into a cauldron, which sat squarely atop a potbellied stove. The four friends had never seen anything like it. Torrab and her gang went at the business of making hodgepodge pie with wild abandon, singing in gruff off-key voices. What they lacked in melodiousness they made up for in volume. Gawjo had heard it all before, and he clapped both paws over his ears to gain a little peace.
"Oh you take an 'odge, an' I'll take a podge,
If anybeast asks us why,
Jus' tell him that some clever cooks,
Are makin' 'odgepodge pie.
We start with an 'azelnut an' a leek,
"Cos they're wot we likes best,
An' tho' they don't look much to speak,
Till we toss in the rest!
"Odgepodge 'odgepodge, good ole 'odgepodge,
That's the pie for me,
I'll scoff it 'ot at suppertime,
Or wolf it cold for tea.
Oh savage a cabbage, tear a turnip,
Rip ripe radishes too,
Chop up chestnuts, they're the bestnuts,
Chuck in quite a few.
Dannyline ransom, mushrooms 'andsome,
Beetroots nice an' red,
An' watercress, that's more or less,
With piecrust over'ead!
Oh 'odgepodge 'odgepodge, good ole 'odgepodge,
North west east or south,
You can shove it up yore nose, but I suppose,
'Tis better off in yore mouth!
Who loves an 'odgepodge ... Hedge'ogs!"
Surprisingly enough, when it was served at midday, it looked good and tasted even better. Gawjo fought the hedgehogs off, rapping paws with his ladle and muttering darkly about manners. Then he dug through the thick golden piecrust and ladled out portions to them all, steaming hot and delicious.
Dippler scraped his platter clean and winked at Torrab. "Great stuff. I'll 'ave to remember that recipe. Wot's it called, podgepodge pie?"
"Yaakaaareeeeeegh!"
A bloodcurdling scream caused them to leap from their chairs. Gawjo went racing out of the cabin, dagger at the ready.
"Sounds like somethin' bein' torn apart by wildbeasts!"
Hustling and shoving, they piled out onto the deck of the raft. The wild cry cleaved the air once more, and a dark shadow fell over them, causing everybeast to duck as something large hurtled by. Song was knocked flat on her back, but she lay there pointing skyward, shouting with joy. "It's the Mighty Megraw! Look, he's flying!"
With his tremendous wingspread stretching, closing, backing and flapping, the osprey flew as none had ever seen such a big bird fly. Soaring, wheeling, plummeting and twirling out of dives like a corkscrew, Megraw put on an exhibition of flight for his earthbound friends, sometimes skimming so low that his wing pinions clipped their ears. Song felt her heart soar with the eagle. She was thrilled that his wing was healed due to her grandpa's skill.
"Go on, Megraw, fly! Fly! Fly!"
And Megraw did just that. Winging up into the blue until he was a mere speck in the summer sky, he turned and did several victory rolls. Folding both wings tight to his side, the eagle dropped like a thunderbolt toward the raft, and for a breathless moment Song thought he would smash into the deck. But he spread his wings again, and the mighty talons shot out as he swooped and landed on the rail, where he stood with both wings spread to their extent. For the first time since she had met her friend, Song saw the fish eagle in his element. Filled with the exhilaration of his own savage strength, Megraw flapped his wings, shouting aloud his challenge. "Ah'm the eagle whit kin outfly a lightnin' flash! Mah egg was broken by the thunderstorm! Kareeeeeegha! Megraw rules the skies tae the world's edge! These talons o' Mighty Megraw cuid plow a field o' rocks! Oh weep, ye foebeast, there's a braw bonny bird a-comin' yer way! Karaaaaagh!"
Gawjo nodded in admiration of Megraw's brave display. "I take it yore about ready to go to the lake?"
The fierce golden eye winked at him. "Aye, laddie, ah ken ye'll be comin' wi' me?"
Gawjo Swifteye picked up a long raft pole. He nodded at Megraw and his crew. "This very day!"
Out on the river it was broad and fast flowing. The hedgehogs would not let Song or her friends use the raft poles, so they worked on the Swallow, putting the finishing touches to their sleek craft. Torrab and the others formed two lines, port and starboard, and they punted deep with their poles. Gawjo sat on the stern rail, using a broad paddle as a rudder to steer the sprawling vessel. By mid-noon they were cruising free along a wide calm stretch, while the crew sat eating cold hodgepodge pie and drinking cider, watching the raft drift steadily downriver. Song joined her grandpa at the stern rail and showed him her parchment, torn, tattered and barely decipherable from the batterings it had endured.
"Grandpa, 'tis not very clear now, but there were a few lines of the rhyme here, let me see now. Ah, here it is.
"And should you live to seek the lake,
Watch for the fish of blue and gray,
Betwixt those two's the path you take,
Good fortune wend you on your way!"
Gawjo's hooded eyes scanned the waters ahead. "Aye, the fish of blue an' gray, I know 'em well. You'll see those fish afore twilight. I'll say nothin', pretty one. See if'n you can spot 'emyore young an' sharp."
Twilight came as a relief after the long hot day, gold and crimson flakes of dying sunlight dancing on the waters. Song had positioned herself on the forward rail of the raft. She watched keenly from side to side, taking in all, searching for the signs. From the cabin window she could see Grandpa Gawjo and her friends observing her. The young squirrelmaid paid attention to the tiniest details. Rocks lining the banks, trees growing either side, any patches of bare earth. Then she sighted the fork ahead. A rock that was so large it was almost an island in midriver, causing the waters to part and run both sides of it. The left fork wound off sharply east, the right one curving slightly west, but farther downriver straightening to flow due south. It was on the right fork of the island rock that Song spotted the fish. It was a natural spur of the grayish-hued rock, sticking out at an awkward angle, high up. Curiously, it closely resembled a trout, for the shrubbery growing atop it looked like the fish's small dorsal fin. Where the eye would be positioned there was a crack in the stone, with a thick spray of delicate blue-flowering wall speedwell growing out of it.