Doomwyte

Watching the lanky hare lope off across the dewy lawn, Aluco remarked to the Abbot, “Act in haste and repent at leisure, eh, Father?”

Abbot Glisam nodded. “Indeed. See, he’s gone out of the main gate, and they went east. Oh dear, I know he means well, let’s go and tell him.”

Out on the path, Bosie was gobbling hot scones and oat biscuits, peering left and right. “Now, which way have they gone?”

Samolus came yawning and stretching out of the Gatehouse. “Which way have who gone? Yore the first to use this gate today, sir. Who are ye lookin’ for?”

Bosie ignored him. Spying two distant figures emerging from the woodlands to the northeast, he sprinted off toward them. “Och, that’ll be two of ’em, Ah’ll wager they’ve come back tae ask for mah help already. Hi, there!”

It was Bisky and Dubble. Having left the logboat, they were running pell-mell for Redwall. Samolus and Bosie met them. Gasping for breath, the pair informed them of the perilous situation Spingo was in.

Redwall bells tolled out the general alarm, as Abbeybeasts, Gonfelins and Guosim flooded outside to hear the news. Everybeast wanted to help, for awhile it was complete chaos. Then, after a quick consultation with the Abbot, Samolus arranged a rescue party, under Bosie’s command. Samolus called for order.

“Listen now, goodbeasts, from what I’ve been told there’s not a moment to waste. We need the Guosim shrews’ swiftest paddlers, a full molecrew and some Gonfelin warriors. I know you all want to help, but there’s not enough room for everybeast. So I’ll let the leaders pick out their own squads, then we’ll have to get moving without delay.”

In place of Foremole Gurrpaw, Friar Skurpul deputised. “Hurr, Rooter, Soilclaw, Burgy, Frubb, Grabul an’ Ruttur, yore moi crew. Gett ee kwippment an’ stan’ boi ready!”

Nokko selected his most warlike Gonfelins. “Duggo, Fraggo, Bumbo, Tungo, Flaggo an yew, Gobbo. Arm yoreselves up. An’ yew, Gobbo, button yore lip an’ do as I tells yer. Right!”

Garul, the Guosim Elder, deferred to Dubble. “Yore Log a Log now, so choose yore paddlers.”

Dubble was perplexed. “But where’s Tugga Bruster?”

Garul took him to one side. “Tugga ain’t around no more, I’ll tell ye as we go. Better pick yore crews quick, Guosim!”

The young shrew’s jaw tightened, he turned away. “You choose ’em, old un, I’ll go along with ye!”

Bosie shouldered his sword, and stood impatiently in the open gateway. “If’n we’re tae save the wee maid there’ll be no hangin’ aboot…. Double march!”

Crowding the walltops, the remaining Redwallers cheered the rescue party off.

“Goo’ lukk, zurrs, you’m ’urry up naow!”

“Aye, an’ may the wind be at yore backs!”

“You bring that liddle maid safe back here!”

Abbot Glisam watched the dust cloud as they rushed off into the woodlands. “May fortune speed your paws, friends!”

The very tiny mousebabe latched onto the Abbot’s robe. “I wanna go wiv them, Father!”

Glisam picked him up. “Maybe next time, little one.”

Dugry the molebabe nodded sagely. “Hurr, an’ Oi bees a-goin’ nex’ time, zurr.”

Sister Violet smiled at the Dibbuns. “An’ so you shall, next time. But meanwhile, who’s to guard the Abbey and keep us all safe?”

Furff, the Dibbun squirrelmaid, narrowed her eyes ferociously. “Us’ll do dat, marm!”

Aluco gave a hoot of mock relief. “Thank goodness we can all sleep safe tonight!”

33

Still trapped beneath the rock slab on the hillside above the caverns, Spingo had lost all count of time. Crushed into a shallow depression by the stone, the Gonfelin maid could feel her consciousness fading. She concentrated on one thing, the effort to continue breathing. Water and food were unimportant, but air, fresh air, was precious.

The atmosphere in the confined space was stifling. Sandy soil trickled softly in the darkness, decreasing the area within. Only the sparse amount of air coming through the two narrow holes made by Zaran were keeping her alive. However, even that was not enough—Spingo could feel her senses gradually slipping away. Though she fought the desire to sleep, it was becoming more pressing in her failing mind.

The black otter Zaran continued her vigil on the hillside. It had been quite a time since the Gonfelin maid’s misfortune. Zaran did not know whether Spingo was dead or alive. However, she leant close to the little holes she had made with her beech stick, whispering constant encouragement to the young mouse entombed below.

“Spingo, help will soon be here, your friends will return, with many others. Answer if you can hear Zaran, do not give up hope, my friend.”

But no reply was forthcoming, and the otter could not help any further. She knew that if she tried digging to reach Spingo, the movement might shift both soil and stone, smothering Spingo forever.