Doomwyte

Zaran dug with her sword, between the hillside and the edge of the slab. It moved, settling down another fraction. They heard Spingo, banging urgently away with her shovel. Dubble waved his paws furiously.

“Stop, don’t dig anymore or we’ll crush ’er t’death!”

A horrific thought struck Bisky. “She might be suffocatin’ down there, what’ll we do?”

Rushing to the beech tree, Zaran chopped off a long branch with a few strokes of her double-bladed weapon. “We try this. I work fast!”

Swiftly lopping off any side shoots and leaves, she sharpened a point on the thinner end of the branch. Now she had what looked like a long javelin. Pushing it into the earth alongside the slab, the powerful otter started twisting the pole, whilst pushing her weight down on it. The beech spear sank deeper with each turn and push. Bisky and Dubble hurried to assist Zaran, but she shoved them aside. “No no, too much force will snap this wood. Zaran will do it. See!” The beech pole moved up and down freely. She withdrew it, cupping her paws over the hole, and calling down into it, “Spingo, you hear Zaran?”

A faint, pitifully thin voice answered, “Aye…. I c’n breathe now…. Don’t dig anymore…y’ll bring the stone down on me!”

There was a moment’s awkward silence, then Zaran called gently down the tiny airhole, “We hear you, don’t worry. I make another hole, you’ll breathe better. Be silent now, stay still.”

The black otter repeated the pressing and twisting process with the sharpened beech rod. Working away she muttered to herself, “Never should let young ones dig, too much danger. All my fault—”

Dubble cut in sharply, “Lissen, mate, stop talkin’ silly. It ain’t nobeast’s fault. We should be puttin’ our brains on ’ow t’get Spingo out, so quit blamin’ yoreself. Now, wot’n the name o’ Guosim are we goin’ t’do? Tenscore like us couldn’t lift that bloomin’ big stone, an’ if we dig it’ll only sink an’ crush pore Spingo. So, wot d’we do, any ideas?”

The brain wave hit Bisky like a lighting bolt. “I know! Moles, that’s what we need!”

Zaran repeated the word. “Moles?”

Bisky warmed eagerly to his plan. “Aye, moles, what else? Redwall Abbey has a Foremole an’ a mighty crew of moles. What they don’t know about diggin’, tunnellin’ an’ shorin’ up isn’t worth knowin’. Right, we’ve got a logboat, too.”

A glimmer of hope shone in Zaran’s dark eyes. “You can get moles here quickly?”

Dubble became suddenly fired by the plan. “You stay with Spingo, mate, keep ’er spirits up, an’ tell ’er this. Me’n’ Bisky are goin’ to bring a full molecrew to git ’er outta there! Aye an’ they’ll be travellin’ like the wind in a fleet o’ logboats, with the best Guosim paddlers in Mossflower to speed ’em on their way. Right, Bisk?”

Bisky seized his friend’s paw, shaking it hard. “Right, Dubble, let’s go to Redwall!”

Below in the darkness, Spingo crouched beneath the massive slab. Zaran had informed her of the plan, so she tried to keep up her spirits by inventing a little ditty.

“O ’tis dark down ’ere,

but I’ll never fear,

with mates to ’elp me out,

good friends an’ true

an’ I’ve got one or two,

who’ll come if I just shout.

So come to my aid,

I’m a liddle Gonf’lin maid

Just longin’ to be free.

I’m stuck down an ’ole,

just waitin’ for a mole,

t’drop right in for tea….”

Spingo could not think of another line, so she lay there in pitch blackness, with the mighty stone pressing down…and wept.

30

Down in the cellars of Redwall Abbey the quest for clues was on. Perrit and Umfry Spikkle descended the small flight of steps, and unbolted the little door. Holding a lantern, the squirrelmaid watched her burly young hog friend withdraw the bolt. He touched the door cautiously. “H’it’s a good repair job, the hinges don’t even creak no more. Nice, strong bolt, too.”

Sensing his apprehension, Perrit nudged his back gently with the lantern. Umfry uttered a startled squeak. “Yeek! Don’t sneak h’up on me like that.”

She chuckled. “‘I’m with you, mate, open the door and let’s take a look. Don’t be afraid.”

Umfry bristled, his spikes stood up indignantly. “Who’s h’afraid? Not me, miz! Right then, you go first, ’cos you’ve got the lantern.”

Once they were in the tunnel, Perrit closed the door behind them. Umfry complained in a loud whisper, “No, don’t close the door, miz, leave h’it h’open. H’anything could ’appen down ’ere!

The squirrelmaid held the lantern up, scanning the back of the old door. “I want to take a better look at this, here.” Taking a pinewood torch, which had been left on the floor, she lit it from the lantern flame. The resiny wood flared immediately as she passed it to Umfry. “Mayhaps you’d like to explore the tunnel a bit more, there may be more clues.”

The timid hedgehog took no more than two paces before deciding it was not a good idea. He stayed close to his companion, muttering excuses. “Huh, no point h’in doin’ that, me’n’Skipper an’ the rest h’already did h’it. There’s nought t’see down there. Pore Dwink’s h’on ’is h’own we’d best get back to ’im h’up there. Nearly dinnertime, y’know.”