"You look like a sensible lady, Abbess. I've got something serious to say to you, so listen carefully." ;, Vale's paws plucked nervously at her sleeve. "Is it Samkim or Arula? Oh please, Mr. Furgle, tell me that they're all
;lt;jght!"
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The hermit refilled his beaker with the dark red wine. "Oh, they're fine, madam, just fine. It's the stoat I've come to tell you aboutone of the two that were here at Redwall. This very day at sometime before noon he dropped dead. I've gone over all the possibilities on the way to your Abbey. I'm certain now: by the look of that creature he died from Dryditch Fever!"
The Abbess's paws knotted into the hem of her sleeve and her eyes were wide with fright as she breathed the terrible name. "Dryditch Fever! Are you sure, Mr. Furgle?"
The woodland recluse nodded his head sadly. "I wish I weren't. Abbess, but it's Dryditch Fever all right!"
Mara was awakened by something heavy-descending upon her. The air was filled with wild gleeful croaking as she tried to stand but fell flat with the smothering weight. Her voice sounded muffled as she called out. "What's going on? Pikkle, wake up!"
Beside her she felt Pikkle stirring into action. "Phwaw! I say, what's apaw? This thing stinks!"
Mara managed to push him flat. She lay still a moment as she tried to make some sense of the situation. Instantly it became clear and the icy paw of fear gripped her. They were both enveloped in the meshes of a sprawling net fashioned from tough dried reed-grass and weighted all around with boulders. Through the small apertures she could see literally hundreds of large toads; the slimy creatures were waddling and hopping about in a primitive victory dance, their baggy throats puffing and swelling as they croaked a horrid tuneless chant. Most of them were armed with tridents or a curious type of flail with stone-tipped thongs.
The sand lizard Swinkee leaped triumphantly forward, brandishing the dagger and broken javelin that had been their only weapons. Thrusting his leering face close to the net, he
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slithered his tongue in and out as he watched the plight of Pikkle and Mara.
"Ksss! Howja feel now? Kaha kaha! Want ta pull me tail off, steal me den, abeat me up? Kksss!"
Mara was about to say that they had not harmed him, but she thought better of it. Unknowingly they had made a dangerous enemy. She tried reasoning with Swinkee. "I'm sorry about what happened. We didn't mean to upset you. We promised to reward you if you took us back home."
"Kksss! Liarssss!" The lizard spat through the meshes at her. "Youa don't fool Swinkee. Kahaha! I got plenty swamp-flies V marshworms off King Glagweb inna trade for you. Swinkee-a like revenge. Kksss!"
Pikkle pawed at the net in helpless fury. "You're an absolute bounder, Stinkee. D'you hear me? If I could get out of this confounded shrimp trap I'd raise a blister on your noggin that wouldn't go down in a season!"
Before they could exchange further insults, the lizard was swept aside by a massively bloated toad, red-eyed and covered in repulsive yellow warts which blotched its slime-green skin from end to end. The toad prodded a long trident through the meshes, narrowly missing their eyes. "Thrrruk! Foodslaves be silent, krrik! Or you die!"
"Best do as he saysI think he means it!" Mara whispered under her breath to Pikkle.
The lizard bowed fawningly before the massive toad. "Kksss, Swinkee bring you gooda trade King Glagweb."
The King of the toads nodded ponderously and waved his trident. Two smaller toads came forward, carrying between them a sack which moved with a wriggling, writhing motion.
Swinkee snatched it from them and backed off, bowing and scraping. "Kkss, kaha, swampflies, marshworms, no need t' counta them, Swinkee trust great King, always good to-a do trade with."
Dragging the sack off into the dunes, he waved to Mara and Pikkle. "Kahahaha, bye bye, Foodslaves. Kksss!"
The badger maid and the young hare were made to march with the net still over them. Stumbling and spitting sand, they struggled across the dunes, surrounded by hopping, croaking toads who were only too willing to jab at them with tridents or lash out with wicked flails, should they fall or attempt to" stop. Some of the smaller toads thought it was good fun to sit on the trailing net ends and be towed along. Pikkle was soon exhausted, but Mara put out all her strength to aid her friend. Holding the net up so that he could walk freely, she bunched her muscles and dragged the whole thing along on her own, ignoring the trident and flail stings, impervious to the sand and stones that were thrown at her by the mocking .. amphibians. Pikkle crouched low, doing his best to keep her footpaws from being snared or tripped in the net.
Night had long fallen over the dunes, and the captives were still lugging the enormous weight. Mara was forced now to travel oh all fours; the strain of standing upright had proved too much. Pikkle crawled doggedly at her side. Blinded by sand and smarting from the cuts and blows of goading weapons, the young ones plowed wearily onward, oblivious of where they were bound, hoping only to be allowed to stop and rest. It gradually filtered through to their numbed senses that they were traveling along flat damp groundthere were , tussocks of grass and patches of mud.
One of the toads produced a conch shell. Puffing out its ;f throat, the creature blew into it. There was an answering call
--, from up ahead and lights began to show.
-- King Glagweb prodded Mara cruelly with his trident. "Krrroik! Move, stripedog. Hurry, krrrik! Nearly there!"
When they reached their destination the two captives
^ flopped gratefully to the soggy ground, panting with exertion.
:;K, Other toads, carrying lanterns full of fireflies, came waddling
J, over to inspect the prisoners. One firefly settled on Pikkle's
:'-| ear, which was sticking out of the netting.
,V Pikkle gave a yelp of pain. "Yowch! That blighter bit me!"
,;/ King Glagweb laid about with the handle of "his trident,
: scattering the onlookers as he called out to his guard,
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"Krroikl! Get these Foodslaves into the pit. Krrrk!"
The net was roughly dragged for a short distance then tipped by a score of guards. Mara and Pikkle were upended into a deep dank hole. They splashed pawsfirst into muddy water almost to their middies. Squelching to a low ledge at one side, the two friends slumped down together.
Covered in sludge and mud, they lay waiting until the sounds of the toad guards retreated. Pikkle immediately jumped up and tried to scale the slippery clay sides of the pit, but slid back hopelessly.
There was a murmur of voices from the darkness, one louder than the rest.
"You're wasting time and strength trying to get out. Don't try again. If the guards come back we'll all be punished."
Mara felt about until her paw encountered short muddy fur. "Who are you, what are you doing here?"
The shape of a small creature loomed up out of the gloom. "We're prisoners, Foodslaves, just like you. What name do they call you?"
"I am Mara of Salamandastron. This is my friend Pikkle Ffolger. He also comes from the mountain."
The small creature offered his paw. "I am Nordo, only son of Log-a-Log. My father is leader of Guosssom, the Guerrilla Union of South Stream Shrews of Mossflower. There are thirty-four of us all told down here."