Doomwyte

Through despairing sobs, the hedgehog managed some self-control as he explained, “I was just droppin’ the slain bird into the ditch, outside the gate. Well, I managed to get him across the path, an’ into the ditch, then I was turnin’ away to come back inside, when bang! I was struck right on the rear, I was hit so bloomin’ hard that I was shot forward, right through the gateway. The pain was like redhot needles, I’ve never felt ought like it, Brother. I turned around an’ guess wot I saw!”

Bosie shouted, “Tell us, laddie, tell us!”

Corksnout shut his eyes tight, as if trying to blot out the memory of the dreadful sight. “It was a great monster serpent, with ’orrible milky blue eyes, an’ the dead raven hangin’ from its mouth. I slammed the gate fast as I could!”

Brother Torilis nodded sagely, moving down to inspect his patient’s rear end, which had a bald patch, devoid of spikes. He took a closer look, patting the area lightly.

Corksnout cried out piteously, “Eeyowch! That hurts somethin’ fierce. Brother, I beg ye, let a pore ole beast die peaceable, I’ve been through enough torture, let me alone, please!”

Brother Torilis heaved a relieved sigh, then gave his diagnosis promptly. “Mister Spikkle, if, as you say, you had been bitten by a poisonous snake—an adder, in fact—of the size you describe, then you’d already be dead.”

Umfry scratched his head quills. “Then why h’aint ’e, Brother?”

Torilis explained, “One, the snake could not have bitten him if its mouth was full of dead bird. Two, there are no bite wounds to be seen on our worthy Cellarhog. What occurred was that he was butted, with some considerable force. The strike was so powerful that it drove some bottom spikes inward. So, sir, it seems that I’ll have to pull your spikes back out, before they fester in there.”

Tears beaded in Corksnout’s eyes, he wept with gratitude. “Seasons praise on ye, Brother. Oh, I’m goin’ to live. Thank ye, thank ye!”

Torilis smiled, a rare occurrence for Redwall’s Healer and Herbalist. “Don’t thank me, Mister Spikkle, thank the fact that you have a bottom covered in spikes. Skipper Rorgus, Laird Bosie, would you kindly assist him up to the Infirmary, where I can work on him. I’d best take a look at you two also, you’re both going to need some spikes drawn out of you.”

The otter and the hare suddenly became aware that their paws and faces had Corksnout’s spikes protruding from them, which they had not noticed in the heat of the moment. Gingerly, they helped the Cellarhog upright.

Sister Violet praised them glowingly. “Oh, you were so brave and reckless, both of you. Is there anything you need?”

Bosie called over his shoulder, as they lugged Corksnout away, “Aye, marm, Ah’d be grateful if’n ye could fetch me a wee plate o’ somethin’ from the feast, an’ a dram tae wet mah spikey lips!”

Skipper added, “Make that two, Sister, if y’please!”

Samolus enlisted the help of Dwink and Umfry. “Come with me, you two, let’s go up to the west parapet. Best take a peep an’ see if’n we can spot that giant serpent.”

From the threshold of the walltop, above the main gate, they searched the path, the ditch and the flatlands below. There was no sign of either Baliss or the slain Raven Wyte. Abbot Glisam, having heard the reports from Aluco and Sister Violet, joined them. The old dormouse shuddered.

“Forgive me, friends, but snakes, especially adders, are the one creature I cannot abide. Just the name, snake, sends a trembling down my spine.”

Samolus took the Father Abbot’s paw. “Well, there ain’t sign nor scale o’ the villain now, so d’ye wish t’stand here shudderin’, Father Abbot, or go back t’the Dibbuns’ feast?”

Glisam took his friend’s paw. “Let’s go to the feast.”

Lost to view from the Abbey, around a bend further up the ditch, Baliss was trying to consume the dead raven, in some considerable discomfort. The whole of the giant reptile’s head was throbbing with pain. This was due to the spikes of Corksnout Spikkle, of which quite a number were embedded in the snake, owing to the ferocity and force of his strike on the Cellarhog. Baliss had no way of extracting the spikes. Several times the reptile left off his macabre meal, shaking his head violently, and butting at the ditchshide. This only caused the injury to worsen. Hissing savagely, he resumed eating the raven carcass.

Had Baliss not been blind the injury could have been averted, but the scents of raven and hedgehog combined to confuse the snake temporarily, causing what might have been termed self-inflicted wounds. Thus it was that fate had turned the cold, calculating hunter into a rapidly maddening monster, his whole snout and head pierced deep by the spikes of a simple hedgehog.

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