Chapter 21
Tagg stood covered in dust and soil, his chest heaving and his paws weary from digging. Nimbalo squinted at the setting sun as the last injured pigmy shrews were carried back into the mountain cave, then gazed sadly around at the deep layers of shale, scree and rocky debris.
"Well, mate, we saved all those we could. No tellin' 'ow many pore wretches lie buried under this lot. C'mon, there ain't no more we can do 'ere, Tagg. Let's go an' get cleaned up."
The big otter hung his head in despair. "None of this would've happened if I hadn't come here!"
The harvest mouse cast an eye to their prisoner. "Yer wrong, mate, you mean none o' this would've 'appened if'n that scum an' 'is vermin 'adn't come 'ere. You can't blame yoreself. Wrong 'uns is wrong 'uns wherever they goes. Huh, they would've only brought sufferin' on some other pore beasts."
Tagg nodded wearily. "Maybe there's some truth in that. Come on, you, get moving!" He took out his blade and severed the rope that anchored Ribrow's footpaws to a long, heavy piece of shale.
The stoat stumbled upright, rigid with fear. "Yore goin' to kill me, I know you are!"
Tagg kicked him on his way to the water-covered cavern entrance. "Not just yet, scumface. There's some questions I need answers to."
Ribrow had nothing to lose. "An' wot if I don't answer yer questions, eh?" he snarled back at his captor.
Nimbalo smiled amiably at him. "Then we'll turn yer over t'the kin of those you murdered."
The remark took all the boldness out of Ribrow. He collapsed in a sobbing heap, pleading pitifully, "No, please, don't let those beasts gerrat me!"
Tagg grabbed him savagely, pulling him up so fiercely that his footpaws left the ground. He held the stoat at eye level, narrowing his eyes to a deep stare of icy hatred.
"If you don't tell me what I want to know, you'll wish I had turned you over to the Cavemob tribe by the time I'm done with you. So you'd best loosen up that tongue of yours!"
When they reached the cave, Nimbalo took a refreshing shower beneath the cascade of cold mountain water that curtained the entrance. Taking Tagg's blade, he guarded the prisoner whilst the otter did likewise, energetically washing away the day's dirt and grit. It was as they dragged Ribrow to the cascading screen that they made a fortunate discovery. He was afraid of water. The stoat dug his heels in and yowled, "No! No! I ain't goin' inter that! Lemme go!"
Tagg smiled at Nimbalo. "Leave this to me, matey!" Seizing the stoat by his tail and the scruff of his neck, the powerful otter frogmarched him under the waterfall and held him there. Ribrow thrashed about, unable to escape that relentless grip.
"Owowow! I'm drownin'! Yaaaaargh! Don't drown me!"
Tagg pulled him out, allowed him to get his breath, then shoved him under again, shaking him like a rag. "Talk or I swear I'll drown you! Talk, you black-hearted vermin!"
"Yesyesyes I'll talk! Get me out! Waaahahhahaaaargh!"
Tagg pulled him out and hurled him to the ground. Alfik emerged from the cavern to issue a warning. "Not to bring that'n inna Cavemob dwellin', tribe wanna rip 'im inta bits. My daddy holdem back 'til you finish wirrim!"
Nimbalo winked at the pigmy shrew. "Thanks, mate. We'll stay out 'ere t'night an' keep the stinkin' villain with us."
Ribrow did talk. He told Tagg everything that had occurred since he left the Juska, leaving nothing out. Nimbalo heard it all, but not knowing much about Tagg's past he was rather puzzled until Tagg began explaining.
The harvest mouse sat listening, nibbling at the supper that Chichwife had passed out to them. "So, this Sawney Rath, who was pretendin' to be yore father, 'e's dead. Now yore old tribe's got a new chief, Gruven Zann, an' that's the beast who's out t'bring yore 'ead back an' prove hisself boss of the Juska clan, 'ave I got it right?"
Tagg added sticks to the small fire he had built. "That's it, roughly. My next job is to track Gruven and the other two down. I can take care of that. But the other pair, Eefera and Vallug Bowbeast, they're a different sort altogether. Sawney's two best killers they were, real trained trackers and murderers. Trouble is, I don't have any idea where they could've gone. That worries me, because they're ten times as bad as this idiot we've caught. They're very crafty, too; you wouldn't sleep easy with them within a league of you, knowing what type they are."
Nimbalo was still slightly mystified. "But ain't you supposed t'be called the Taggerung? You tole me that meant yore the greatest warrior of 'em all. I bet you must've slayed more beasts than the whole clan put t'gether, eh, mate?"
Tagg drew his friend aside, out of Ribrow's hearing, and spoke low. "Apart from that big eel I've never slain anybeast. I never had to, you see; I was tougher, quicker and more skilled than any Juska. I always brought them back alive. It was only Sawney wanting me to kill Felch the fox, by skinning him alive, that caused me to split from the clan. Beasts feared my name and reputation, but really I was only Sawney Rath's trained errand runner. When I realized that I could never kill just for fun, the way the Tuska do, I suddenly wanted to be free of them and live my own life. But it seems they aren't going to let me do that."
Nimbalo suddenly felt sorry for his friend. He winked at Tagg. "Oh, ain't they now? Hah, we'll soon change their minds about that, me ole Tagg. You've got Nimbalo the Slayer with you now, pal. Those Juskas'll be glad to leave ye alone by the time I'm done wid 'em. Then ye can lead any kind o' life y'like; it'll be even better than the time afore you was a Taggerung!"
Tagg smiled at the irrepressible little harvest mouse. "Thanks, but I can't recall how I lived before I was Taggerung." But even as he spoke, a sudden idea was building in the otter's mind. He turned back to Ribrow, who was sitting nearby, wet and sullen. The stoat huddled defensively against a rock, sensing that his captor was going to start interrogating him again.
"I told yer everythin' I know. There ain't no more, see!" Ribrow's throat bobbed nervously as Tagg took out his blade and began tapping it against the boulder. "Wot d'yer want now? I told yer I know nothin'."
The otter honed his blade on the boulder, looking at the razor-sharp edge, speaking softly. "Tell me, how long have you been with the Juska clan?"
"Dunno exactly, thirty seasons, more mebbe, I'm not sure."
Tagg nodded agreeably, his eyes still fixed on the blade. "Then you must remember how I came to be with the clan. Take your time, stoat, think carefully. I wouldn't want you to make any mistakes, that would make me angry, very angry!"
The otter's voice was like his steel blade, there was cold danger in it. Ribrow felt himself trembling, and held out his paws pleadingly. "Wait, wait, let me think. 'Twas all a long time ago!"
Tagg licked the blade, his tattooed face ferocious in the firelight. "Go on, Ribrow, I'm waiting ..."
Ribrow decided to tell what he knew. "There was talk that Grissoul's omens said a Taggerung was comin' to the Juskarath clan. Antigra claimed 'twas 'er babe, but the omens were wrong for 'im. There was an argument an Sawney slew Antigra's mate, wid that blade you've got in yer paw now. Grissoul 'ad visions 'twas to be a babe, wid a marked paw."
"How did you know this?" Tagg interrupted.
The stoat shrugged. "Everybeast was gossipin' about it on the quiet. You know wot Juska are like, always keepin' their ears open in case there's summat in it for them. Next thing, Sawney ordered us to break camp an' follow 'im. I tell yer, I never knew Sawney Rath t'be so nervous an' excited. Nobeast'd seen Sawney like that afore. We marched fer days; 'e drove us 'ard. The new camp was in Mossflower Wood, south'n'west as I recall, by a river. Then 'e picked a bunch of us, I was one, me matey Dagrab was anudder. I can't remember who else, 'ceptin' Eefera an' Vallug Bowbeast, 'is pet killers, they was always with Sawney. We went to a place where a path ran through the water, a ford. The orders was to keep our 'eads down an' be silent. An otter came there, big feller like yerself, carryin' a babe. Sawney gave the word an' Vallug slew the big otter, put a shaft in 'is heart. Sawney grabbed the little 'un, that was you."