The Borribles - Larrabeiti Michael (книги онлайн без регистрации .txt) 📗

Bingo watched as Napoleon pushed over a few more bookcases and the tomes cascaded down, covering more of the Rumble dead. He advanced, climbing across the treacherous surface of jumbled books.

"How are you getting on?" he asked.

"Nicely, thanks," said the Wendle, tersely, preoccupied, "and you?"

"I can't find mine anywhere. Where's yours?"

"Under that pile of encyclopaedias. Nice little fellow, didn't cause any trouble."

"How?" asked Bingo, adopting the same terse speech as the Wendle.

"He was at the top of a long ladder," explained Napoleon, pleased to tell the story of his name for the very first time. "I came to the bottom of it and said, very politely, 'Excuse me, are you Napoleon Boot Rumble?' and he said, 'Yes, I am.' So I says, 'Could you come down please, I have a word to say to you.' Bloke didn't even look at me, toffee-nosed little twit. 'Oh, no,' he says, 'I'm too busy. You'll have to wait. I'm looking for a book on Bowwible fighting methods, for the High Command—of which I am a member, I'll have you know. So be off.' So I says, 'You're coming down one way or the other, mate. Gravity is stronger than you are.' That was a remark that caught his fancy, must have, cos he looked at me then. 'Aaaaaagh,' he says, like they do, and drops his book, nearly hit me on the head, bloody dangerous, and he grabs hold of the top of the bookcase. At the same time I kicked the ladder away, so he's got nothing to stand on, has he? Well, the sudden increase of weight at the top of the bookcase made it wobble violently, so that gave me an idea. I runs round the back, up another ladder on the next bookcase and pushes with me sticker, and over went the whole lot, bookcase, books, Rumble and all. Goodnight, Napoleon Rumble. Splat!"

Bingo shook his head. "What a way to go."

"Overcome by the weight of his studies, you might say," said Napoleon and he smirked like a cold draught. "Got any matches on you?" he asked suddenly.

"What for?"asked Bingo.

"Don't be slow," said Napoleon, sighing. "Start a fire, of course, bit of mayhem, cover our retreat. Seen the others?"

Bingo told him what he knew.

"Aha," crowed the Wendle, nodding his head, "I knew that Knocker was up to something. Got a box, eh? That is money, that is. Well, we'll have to see about that, won't we?"

"We haven't got away yet," pointed out Bingo, reasonably.

"I'm getting out, mate," said Napoleon, indicating the ladder. "I'm getting into that ventilation shaft and no Rumble in the world is going to stop me leaving for home. Only two Rumbles can get at you at once up there, one in front, one behind. Any Borrible ought to be a match for a score of Rumbles and a Wendle can deal with twice that number."

"You do for these?" asked Bingo, indicating the prone Rumble Warriors.

"Well, they didn't commit suicide," said Napoleon. "Mind you, they only came into the place in fives and sixes. It was easy really, like falling off a . . . bookcase."

Bingo took a box of matches from his pocket and handed them to Napoleon. "It's a shame about the books. Are there any good adventure stories there?"

Napoleon gave him an old-fashioned look. "I haven't had a lot of time for reading in the last half-hour," he said, and he went over to a stack of books. He put a match to them and, dusty and dry, they burst into flames on the instant.

"What I mean," persisted Bingo, "is that it's a shame; they're sort of nice things, books."

"Nice things! You sound like a bloody Rumble. Can't have no half-measures in an attack like this, Bingo, got to go the whole hog or it don't work. What would happen if we left these books up here untouched? I'll tell you what, there'd be another Rumble High Command on the go in five minutes. This is what it's all about, sonny, power!" And he threw another book on the fire.

"I suppose you're right," said Bingo. "I never thought of it like that."

" 'Course I'm right," said Napoleon. "Now then, it's time for me to go home. Can't stand fires, water's my element. Are you coming?"

"Can't," said Bingo miserably." I told you, I haven't found my bloke."

"Tough, but I'm off. I want to see that Knocker; that money's not all his." Napoleon winked mysteriously and made his way from the fire, which was now burning well, and began to climb his ladder. "You could come with me, Bingo, and drop down through the ventilation system somewhere else. It's going to get very hot in this library very shortly."

"It's going to be hotter than you think," said Bingo. "There were two million Rumble Warriors chasing me down the corridor out there. They don't run very fast, do they—but they ought to be here at any moment."

Napoleon became immobilised on the ladder and looked down. "How many? You can't have that lot to yourself, that's greedy," and he came back down the ladder and threw a few more books on the fire.

They waited and the fire crept along the mounds of books and began to rise towards the high ceiling. Soon there was a noise of shouting from the tunnel beyond the green baize door and Bingo and Napoleon placed themselves within sticker-throwing range of the entrance.

"We'll let the first ones have it with these stickers," said Napoleon, "then we'll get behind that pile of books, there beyond the fire, and then let then have it with the catapults as they try to get in. When we're out of ammo, we'll scarper up the ladder, okay?"

"Right," said Bingo. He picked up a couple of lances from the floor and hefted one ready in his right hand. Two breathless Rumbles burst into the room together and Bingo and Napoleon threw their weapons as one man and the two Warriors fell.

Other Rumbles crowded into the room in a compact mass, urged and pushed on by their eager companions behind, and the two Borribles continued to throw spears until they had exhausted their meagre supply. Several Rumbles had been accounted for, but so great were their numbers, it was impossible to prevent them from spilling into the Library and taking cover behind desks and bookcases.

Napoleon and Bingo fell back and crouched behind an enormous pile of books, their catapults stretched.

"I've hardly fired a stone yet," said Bingo. "It's all been lance work."

Napoleon peered through the smoke that was rising from the energetic fire that lay between them and the enemy. "This smoke is going to help them to creep up on us," he said to Bingo. "That's not good." He broke off and fired a shot towards the door. "Look," he said, "there's scores of them coming."

Bingo saw that many more Warrior Rumbles were rushing into the room. They were led by a slim but powerful-looking Rumble, covered in sleek brown fur and with a hard expression on his dangerous-looking snout. He carried three or four lances and wore a sash of gold, green and white to denote his position as Commander of the Warriors. He looked proud and impatient and Bingo knew that at last he had found his target.

The Commander ran this way and that at the far end of the Library, gathering his forces and making them emerge from their hiding places between the fallen bookshelves. He shouted and waved his arms and slowly the Rumbles came forward, throwing lances at the two Borribles who crouched behind the pile of books, only standing up every now and then to fire a stone. Things would have gone very badly with the two Borribles if the Rumbles had been in possession of any reasonable number of lances, but most of their missiles had been thrown in a panicky fashion at the beginning of the skirmish. Now there was a great pile of spears on the Borribles' side of the room and there soon came a moment when Napoleon and Bingo could stand up in full view of their enemy because the Rumbles had no stickers left to throw.

With a sign, the Rumble Commander sent some of his troops off into the corridor to bring more weapons and the rest of his Warriors took up defensive positions amongst the bookcases and the piles of burning books. It was hard to breathe in the room now as the fire gradually gained a firmer hold and the smoke grew thicker. Some Rumbles tried to stamp or beat out the fire, but more often than not their fur was singed or caught fire and their friends had to come to their rescue and save them from being scorched to death.

Napoleon checked his bandoliers. "Not many stones left," he said. "How about you?"

"I've got a lot still, but they won't last for ever," said Bingo, and he fired a stone at a Rumble who was trying to creep along the side of the room to get at a stray lance. "But I can't leave now, I've got to have a crack at my target, and I'd better do it before his mates get back with a new load of stickers."

Bingo reached behind and picked up two sharp Rumble lances. He put his catapult carefully into his back pocket and went slowly down the long slope of books. The Warrior Rumble with the sash stood by the Library door, waiting for his men to return with more lances, for even he was weaponless.

Bingo leant backwards, arcing his body, and threw one of his spears with all his might. His name would have been won there and then had the High Rumble not chosen that moment to step into the corridor to see if his men were returning.

The sticker plunged deep into the green baize of the Library door and it hung there—humming. Bingo swore and grasped his second lance securely, but did not throw it, for there are two ways of fighting with the Rumble-stick. The first is simply to throw it from a distance; the second is to wield it like a quarter-staff until the fighter finds a moment to use the point and slay his stunned or unconscious foe. Bingo moved nearer to the door and the Rumbles fell back. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Napoleon had followed him, his catapult eager to dissuade anyone who thought they could intervene in the fight between Bingo the Borrible and Bingo the Rumble.

The High Rumble leapt back into the room, saw the advance of the two Borribles and saw too the lance, still singing in the door. He pulled it free with both hands and moved towards Bingo. They said no word these two, and no Rumble attempted to interfere; they watched from the safety of their hiding places, their snouts and eyes only just visible through the red smoke.

Bingo held his lance with a hand at each end, using the long haft to ward off blows from his adversary who began the contest by working his weapon like a two-handed sword, hoping to stun the Borrible and then spear him. But Bingo had learned his Rumble-stick fighting well all that time ago in Rowena Gym and he protected his head and shoulders and was content to defend himself, while he measured the style of his enemy, conserving his strength.