Doomwyte

Soilclaw clung on tighter—he was far too scared to release his hold. “Ho, woe am Oi, zurrs, Oi’m gurtly afeared o’ heights. Oi’d loike to letten go of ee rope, but Oi can’t, ’tis a turrible long ways daown to ee floor!”

Dubble realised that the only way Soilclaw would release his hold would be through shock. So the young Guosim screeched up as loud as he could, “The big rock’s fallin’ on ye, mate, leggo o’ the rope!”

With a panicked bellow, Soilclaw let go. “Whooouuuurrr!” Shooting through space like a furry cannonball, he landed bottom-first on the heap. He stood up, dusting himself off as if nothing had happened. “Thurr naow, that diddent hurt Oi!”

Nokko lifted his unconscious daughter, draping her across his shoulders. “Got t’get my liddle darlin’ out inter the fresh air an’ wet ’er face with cold streamwater.”

Bosie took over. “Right, we’ll make a path for ye. Bisky, Dubble, get either side o’ him, we’ll fight our way through tae the tunnel. Eulaliaaa Bowlayneeee!”

Turning, they charged straight into the fray.

Reptiles, birds, Guosim and Gonfelins were locked, tooth to claw and beak to paw, in the tunnel mouth, driving one another back and forth in a wild melee. A sharp-billed chough fluttered down, about to stab its beak into Spingo. Bisky lashed out, breaking its skull with his stone-loaded sling. The Laird Bosie McScutta of Bowlaynee forged gallantly ahead, the light of battle in his eyes as he swung the blade of Martin the Warrior like a scythe, mowing a slaughtered lane through the foebeast. Dubble thrust left and right with his rapier, his battlecry mingling with those of his comrades.

“Logalogalogaloooog! Gonfeliiiin! Redwaaaaallll! Give ’em blood’n’vinegar! No quarter, no surrender!”

Bisky fought on in a crimson haze, biting, kicking, swinging his rock-loaded sling. The only thought uppermost in his mind—to get Spingo out, into clean air and safety.

Now they were into the tunnel. Slow worms, grass snakes and smoothsnakes hissed and snapped viciously in their struggle to escape the caves, only to be met by Zaran, the black otter.

She stood where none could pass, her double-bladed sword dealing out death and destruction to the creatures of Korvus Skurr. Any servant of the Doomwyte who ventured in range of her avenging blades was sent screaming to Hellgates with savage fury.

Bisky managed to shout to her above the hubbub, “We’ve got Spingo, she must get out of here, Zaran!”

The otter slashed her way through to Bosie’s side. “Come, friend, get the young one out, then we come back and finish this thing forever!”

The Highland hare laughed recklessly. “Och, yer a lassie after mah own heart. Aye, let’s do that, mah braw bonny!”

Dawn rushed in with a warm breeze, and a sky as blue as speedwell blossoms. The little party broke out of the fetid cavern fumes into a bright summer’s day. Nokko tripped and fell into the stream, dousing both himself and his daughter. Bisky and Dubble waded in to help them out. Spingo, wakened by the sudden shock of cold streamwater, yelled out.

“Whaaaa…. Phlooooey…. I’m bein’ drownded, ’elp!”

Bisky grabbed her paw, pulling her up onto the bank. He was shaking all over, and grinning foolishly.

Nokko spat out a jet of water, scowling. “Worra yew laughin’ at, cheeky gob?”

The young Redwaller held a paw to help him out. “It’s a good day t’be alive, isn’t it mate?”

Nokko suddenly realised that Spingo was standing smiling at Bisky, awake and well. He accepted Bisky’s paw and waded to the bank. “Ha ha, ye can say that agin, bucko! Aye aye, where are ye off to, we’ve just got out!”

Bisky and Dubble joined Zaran and Bosie. Now that his warrior blood was roused, the Laird of Bowlaynee was trembling for action. “Stay here an’ care for yore bonny daughter, mah friend, we’ve got a battle tae attend to!”

The Gonfelin Pikehead sat Spingo carefully down on the bankside. “Are ye alright, me darlin’?”

She smiled prettily. “I’m fine, thank ye, Da!”

He pulled a thick driftwood billet from the stream and gave it to her. “There now, that’s me beauty. You rest ’ere an’ break the ’eads of any foebeasts ye sees comin’ out o’ there.” He cocked an ear to the tunnel entrance, scowling. “There goes that Gobbo agin, can’t keep his big trap shut fer a moment. Right, let’s go t’war, mates!”

Yelling blood and thunder, the five warriors charged back into the tunnel. Spingo picked a pink purslane flower, sniffing it daintily as she wielded her club and sat guard over the tunnel entrance.