User blog:Taggerung of Redwall/Senn of Redwall: Book Two

Ahoy mates,

Here follows the next part of my fanfic Senn of Redwall, enjoy. In it will be revealed the mystery at the River Moss, as well as many thread-tying.

= Book Two: Waters and Dreams =

Chapter 15
It was morning when the Guosim under Log-a-log with Juhenchin Bentonhings Kaminglain Baggscut and Mauthie Browncloak reached the block at the River Moss. All present were struck dumb with awe and overwhelming fright. In front of them, only one thing reared above the River Moss: woods. Seemingly Mossflower itself was uprooted, a vast hill of assorted trunks and foliage, mounding up the sky and back on each bank, spanning the whole river. It was, however, the thing which perched on top that lent movement back to their legs.

“Back Guosim! To t’trees!” Log-a-log’s voice was in panic, a trait seldom seen in his character. Shrews made a mad shuffle off, heading for the sheltering bows of Mossflower behind them. Most made it, Mauthie and Log-a-log included, but two shrews had been unfortunate to trip over a protruding root. Juhenchin, who had, for all practical purposes, dragged the young Deffo behind him to get back to the trees, spoke to Log-a-log amidst the struggle.

“We’ve gotta get them out!” Log-a-log took hold of a long alder branch close to paw, and through his rapier to the hare. “Foller me, get ‘round to the other side of that bird!”

The gigantic bird, known as a flatland buzzard, was flapping down to where the two shrews lay sprawled directly below him. As the bird landed, Log-a-log had bounded up and went into action. Slamming the branch down, he catapulted into the buzzard’s face, Juhenchin leaping into its legs. The force of the blows caused the bird to nearly stagger, and its sight was lost. Log-a-log yelled out amidst the confusion. “Get back, ya scruffy lot!”

The twos shrews got up and ran to the trees. Juhenchin swept out the rapier, but the buzzard acted first. Ridding itself of Log-a-log by flinging him off his head into the river, the buzzard’s talon gripped onto the rapier. ‘’Cring!’’

Juhenchin fell back, and soon leaped out with his lanky legs back to the trees, where several shrews were waiting with Mauthie for the two rescuers’ return. Deffo, who had witnessed the whole scene, was drawing his rapier. “We ‘ave t’get to Log-a-log!”

The hare steadied him by the shoulders. “Can’t allow that, me laddiebuck. That thing’ll kill ya as swift as lightning on a stormy evenin’.”

Other Guosim shrews were milling their teeth, their rapiers drawn in similar fashion. The buzzard had soared up from the place of attack, circling the perimeter as Log-a-log appeared. The Guosim chieftain had swam back to shore, and was promptly getting himself scarce from its side. Juhenchin and Deffo met him back at the trees.

“Did’ya see that thin’, Ju? It’d ‘ave slain us all if we ‘aden’t retreated!”

The hare stroked his whiskers. “No real casualties suffered, though, ol’ Log-a-thing. Looks t’be an ol’ buzzard, giant o’ one o’ his kind even. Murderous scum, prey on those passing through their stolen realm, reckon he’s a bit ticked o’ us comin’ by so early, wot!”

“That’s Skourge Jarrod.” Log-a-log said, his voice low and penetrating. Juhenchin had never heard the name before. “Swat’sa scourge jar?”

Deffo answered. “Skourge Jarrod, e’s made a name for ‘imself off to the northwest, I’ve ‘eard he’s slain more’n even some hordes just by ‘imself. Wonder what cause ‘im to take up abode in Mossflower.”

Log-a-log brushed his whiskers of water. “Likely pickin’s ‘ave gone down, so ‘e flew down to take up a new career, nice timing too. How we’re sup’osed to move that lot even without ‘im complicatin’ the whole situation?”

All twelve beasts present sat about, running the problem through their minds. The amount of debris stacked up thunderstruck most, and the size and ferocity in their newly made enemy was daunting. Silence reigned over the community, disturbed by the sounds of nature and an occasional shuffle or minor sigh. Deffo was beginning to get the state of things. “May ‘ave been one o’ those great windstorms, when they rap ‘round each other and swirl. My grandsire described seein’ one once, said it was the most terrifyin’ sight ‘e ever saw.”

Juhenchin waved his ears. “Good show, young Deffo. Likely he’s right, which explains well enough how so much of Mossflower ended up damming the River Moss. What we need to do is move all that, while Dunjer an’ his lot take care o’ the riverwall.”

Log-a-log responded to the hare. “Actually, Juhenchin, I believe we need to do somethin’ ‘bout that buzzard first. We should warn Dunjer as well, Skourge Jarrod might be takin’ a trip ‘is way.”

The suggestion spurred on action, and all gear was gathered back up and the company set off, bound back east to find their companions.

Dunjer sat with Jasse Twootack and Buyyad Spearcalm, exhausted with the rest of the Guosim shrews there after working most of the night. The thirteen had collected but a tiny portion of the necessary supplies, but at least the clouds overhead had shown no rainfall. As morning light spread on, Dunjer remarked to Jasse. “Think Skipper of Otters would be back from the Western Sea, yet? Could use ‘is ‘elp.”

Jasse looked about the shrews. “No use botherin’ with these supplies, we should go an’ join Log-a-log and Juhenchin at the river block. Reckon we should depart?”

Dunjer breathed deeply. “Ah, prob’ly don’t ‘ave much o’ a choice, it’d be pointless to stay ‘ere.”

Buyyad was dozing, most of the others sat about drinking or resting. “We’ll leave after a short rest more, that’s my orders.” Dunjer slumped back, resting his head on a shale rock.

~

Seven other weary figures marched disorderly about Mossflower Woods that morning, Badgunt pathetically trying to drive them on with promises of grandeur. “Lissen once more mates, we’re goin’ to get rich to da south, dat’s where all da pickin’s are. ‘Ave ya not all ‘eard o’ Redwall Abbey?”

Slimtooth spat bad-mannerly into the dirt. “Go an’ git yerself killed if ya want, Badgunt, I’ve ‘eard o’ Redwall, an’ I ain’t gittin’ meself slain at its walls.”

Badgunt spun on the stoat. “Ya do like I tell ya to do, stoat. An’ I’m boss ‘round ‘ere, ya call me Chief fer now on.”

Glummaye and Moggslouse sniggered, and Badgunt turned his attention on them. “Wat ya two laughin’ ‘bout? Git yerselves up front, den I can see ya.”

The two rats obeyed. Dripear, by far the shortest and stoutest of strength amongst the whole gang, trekked along with Sharpear, now over his strange fit, though he had presently lost the ability to speak. The two former searats marched at the back, with Slimtooth and Bluntclaw. Dripear restarted the conversation. “’Ey, Chief, why are we goin’ to Redwall, I’ve ‘eard o’ dat place, full ‘o magic swords ‘n rich tapestries.”

Bluntclaw was confused. “If dis place’s full o’ riches, why ain’t we jist raidin’ it ‘n takin’ our share?”

Dripear answered. “Huh, many ‘ave tried, dat place’s bad luck to all. We shouldn’t try ‘n fight dose beasts inside.”

Badgunt had never heard of any tapestries or swords, his intentions were to steal food from the Abbey. At such mentions, however, he changed his motives. “Lissen, we’re gonna git in dere, den we can take a few ‘ostage, an’ bargain fer our shares. Bluntclaw’s a smart beast, ‘e knew dat.”

Slimtooth was not assuaged. “I still say dat place’ll be da end o’ us.”

Badgunt ignored the statement, and looked up to see the two conspiring rats staring back at him. They swiftly resumed their pace, and the vermin band headed further south.