Doomwyte Read Free

on me or I’ll chew yore ear off an’ spit it out where ye won’t find it, see!”
    The hostilities were about to escalate—Gridj was pulling a club from his belt—when the light reappeared. It emerged from behind a beech tree, where it was joined by a second light. Both lights twinkled to and fro, as if performing a dance.
    Slegg gurgled happily, “Hawhaw, lookit, the liddle fellers are dancin’ fer us!” He held out his paw, hoping that one might alight on it, but the pale flame wavered, moving away again.
    As the two rats raced after the dancing lights, a third flame appeared, then a fourth. They stayed just out of reach, weaving merrily around one another. Slegg made an awkward swipe at the nearest flame; it evaded him, wisping off to join its partners. Gridj gave a snort of irritation.
    “Leave ’em alone, stoopid, if’n ye try to grab ’em they might fly off alt’gether!”
    But Slegg ignored him and chased after the twinkling lights, crowing like an infant. “Cummere, liddle mateys, ole Slegg won’t ’urt ye, come to me now, I knows ye won’t burn me. Stand on me paws an’ I’ll carry ye for awhile.”
    He chased the four flames with outstretched paws, bumbling and stumbling as he dashed headlong through the storm-buffeted woodlands. Almost mockingly, the quartet of eerily glowing lights stayed nearly, but not quite, within the rat’s reach.
    Gridj, not relishing being left alone amidst the nightdark trees, chased after Slegg, calling, “Yore gonna git lost good’n’proper if’n ye don’t slow down, I warn ye!”
    Then Gridj tripped on a protruding root and went down face-first. Spitting out dirt, and pawing mud from his eyes, he peered about into the rainy gloom. “Slegg, where are ye?”
    The older rat’s reply seemed to come from directly ahead. It was the cry of a beast in trouble. “Gridj…mate…O ’elp me, I’m guuuuurrrrggghhh!”
    There was no sight of the four pale lights. Gridj went forward on all fours, shouting, “Wot’s ’appened, mate? Slegg, are yew alright?” Alarm bells went off in Gridj’s head as he felt his paws beginning to sink into the suddenly soft woodland floor. Pulling himself loose, he scrabbled backward until his back encountered a purple willow. Grabbing a bough of the tree, he hauled himself upright, staring in horror.
    The four twinkling lights were flickering around Slegg’s head. He had run straight into a swamp, and was sinking at an alarming rate. Frozen with horror, Gridj could only watch as his companion’s head, illuminated by the lights, sank further. Slegg’s final gurgle was stifled by a fearful sucking noise, then he was gone forever.
    Rigid with terror, Gridj watched the lights sweep around him. Frightened out of his wits, he babbled, “Stay away from me, wot d’yer want, why did ye lead me pore mate inter the swamp like that, we weren’t doin’ ye no harm, we was only goin’ t’the seashore, ’twasn’t our fault we got lost….”
    Cruel claws seized Gridj, ramming his head hard into the tree trunk. A net was thrown over him and secured tightly. Through the net holes he gazed, half-stunned, at the pale lights dancing closer.
    A harsh voice hissed, “Hakkah, the Doomwytes have got you now, rat!” His head was banged against the tree trunk again. Gridj fell into the dark pit of senselessness, all hopes of visiting the seashore gone forever.

2
    Brother Torilis rapped briefly on the Abbot’s chamber door before entering. He bore a steaming beaker to the bedside. “Good morning, Father Abbot, did you sleep well?”
    The Abbot of Redwall, a fat, old, hairy-tailed dormouse named Glisam, sat up slowly, removing his tasselled nightcap. Sighing, he gazed out into the grey dawn. “Not much change in the weather, Brother.”
    Torilis placed the beaker on the table, close to paw. “That wind has died down. ’Tis not a cold day, but still raining, I’m afraid, Father.”
    Abbot Glisam got creakily out of bed, lowering himself