The Outcast of Redwall Part 19

"After them. Charge!"

The words had scarcely left his mouth, when the sand another score of paces away heaved upward. Bradberry spat out grit as he called to his two dozen archers, "Quickfire, chaps!"

Again Zigu's lightning reactions saved him. Flinging himself flat, he heard the screams and felt the thudding weight of two horde soldiers as they fell dead on top of him. Pushing the bodies roughly aside, the Corsair sprang up, and, grabbing a spear from one of the slain vermin, he hurled it at the fleeing backs of the retreating Sleepers. It was a lucky throw. Ford-petal, the young female hare with the fluttering eyelashes, went down with a scream, the spear sticking out of her back.

Zigu looked around for another spear to throw as the hordebeasts charged past him. Fifty paces farther on they vanished into the covered stakepits; agonized yells rent the hot air as vermin soldiers plunged onto the sharpened stakes.

Zigu roared at those still alive, "Back! Back, you fools, can't you see it's a trap?"

As they retreated, the Corsair ran to where Fordpetal lay groaning. His face tight with rage, Zigu lashed at her with the long blade of his rapier.

"Hit and run, eh, hare! Well, I'm hitting now, let's see you run!"

She screamed as he lashed her mercilessly with the thin blade.

"Hey, filthface, why doncha try doin' that to somebeast who can hit back!"

Zigu looked up to see the Long Patrol Captain Sabretache striding purposefully toward him. The Corsair grinned evilly, calling to his hordebeasts, "Leave this one to me, he carries a blade!"

Ignoring the gaping hordebeasts, Sabretache leapt the stake-pit. Drawing his saber, he confronted Zigu.

n.o.beast had ever bested the Corsair in swordfight. Flexing the long steel blade between his paws, he stared contemptuously at the hare, who stood alone before him, and said, "Zounds, you're a bold bunny and no mistake. Come and be spitted!"

244.

Outcast of RedwaH 245.

The hare shot forward, his narrow curving saber striking the rapier blade with a force that sent shockwaves tingling through his opponent's paw. He smiled recklessly. "Defend y'self, ferret!"

Balancing lightly on their footpaws, both beasts took up the en garde position, sword points flickering like snake tongues as each sought an opening. Momentarily the front sh.o.r.e of Salamandastron grew silent. Hordebeasts on the sand and defenders from the mountain stood stock still, watching the two swordbeasts battle to the death.

Zigu pressed forward, step, step, step, his rapier seeking the elusive foe. Sabretache backed and went sideways, the saber a bright blur as it slashed and took the ferret's ear. Scarcely believing what had just happened, Zigu clapped a paw to the side of his head, glaring venomously at the hare. One paw behind his back, Sabretache stood with his legs bowed, saber in the salute position as he kissed its hilt. "Can y'still hear me, old chap, hard luck, wot?"

With a roar of rage, Zigu charged, flailing the rapier in front of him. The two blades met, and sand flew about their nimble footpaws as they locked in a dance of death. Blade clashed upon blade as they battled across the beach. Zigu managed to grab Sabretache's swordpaw with his free one, and as the hare pulled away, the Corsair struck a downward slash at his head, hissing triumphantly.

"Sssssdeath!"

Sabretache flicked his head to one side, avoiding the blade slicing at his throat. He came up smiling, running a paw along the fine scar tracing his cheek.

"Not quite, old lad, try again, eh!"

Zigu plunged forward once more, but the hare was ready. Locking hilts with the ferret, he wrenched down and gave a powerful twist upward. The rapier described a glittering arc in the noon sun as it left Zigu's paw, then a swift kick to the stomach left the Corsair sprawling, unarmed. Sabretache leaned on his saber as if it were a walking stick, and he nodded toward the rapier as the horrified ferret scrambled to get out of blade range. "Pick it up, vermin!"

Zigu was scared; he knew he was facing a swordmaster, but the Corsair stilt had a trick or two in him. Reaching down to retrieve his blade, he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a pawful of sand and hurled it in his opponent's face. As Sabretache's paw shot up to his eyes. Zigu bulled forward, throwing himself upon his foe. and they went down together. However, the hare was nol finished. His long legs shot out like two pistons, catching the ferret in his stomach and sending him flying over Sabretache's head. He landed with a b.u.mp that winded him. The hare was up; pawing sand from his eyes he went for the ferret. Zigu staggered upright in time to raise his blade, but not to stop the lightning attack. He staggered backward, blade clashed upon blade as, thrusting, hacking, and swinging, the hare drove his foe skillfully around the stakepit, maneuvering the ferret until he was backed up to a rock. Then both blades locked, saber guard against basket hilt. Eye to eye, whisker to whisker, and jaw to jaw they swayed.

Panic glistened in Zigu's eyes; he had met his match. Gasping for breath, he pleaded for his life, "Sirrah, a boon, a boon, spare me!"

There was no mercy in the face of the Long Patrol Captain. He knocked the rapier to one side and thrust forward with the curving sabertip. "You ask for mercy, ferret? You who moments ago whipped a wounded creature with your blade! Tchah! You have lived the life of a coward, now learn t'die like a soldier, sir!"

Zigu slid lifeless to the sand. Sabretache tucked the sword beneath his elbow like a pace stick and marched boldly off. While the fight had been in progress, Bradberry and Blogg-wood had sneaked out and retrieved Fordpetal's body.

246.

Aggal and his band came marching around to the sloping right side of the mountain. It was completely deserted. The stoat Captain had expected to meet some resistance, but there was nothing, just a solid rock face soaring upward, with no sign of entry visible, A weasel called Bandril shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment and said, "Well, we're 'ere! Wot d'we do now, Cap'n?"

Aggal cuffed the hapless weasel a quick clip over his ear. "Do, what d'yer think we do, peabrain? We climb up an' try t'find a way in, o' course. Now git climbin', all of yeh!"

Enc.u.mbered by spears, shields, and various weapons, the hordebeasts began clambering, not too enthusiastically, up the rockface. Aggal was well ahead of the rest, energetically scaling upward and calling back in a loud whisper, "If we kin find us a window or some way in, we'll battle our way down t'the main entrance an' unblock it fer Cap'n Zigu."

Bandril lagged at the back of the climbers, waiting for an even tardier rat to catch up with him. "C'mon yew, move yerself," he called down. "Keep yer eyes peeled fer entrances!"

The rat gave him a withering glance and climbed slower. "Entrances, y'must be daft as a bat if you think I'm goin' to climb inside o' there, the place is fulla badgers an' 'ares!"

Bandril sat down on a gra.s.s-covered ledge. "Yore like me-self, mate, not soft!"

32.

High up and hidden from view, Forty and an old campaigner called Floke risked a quick peep over the edge at the vermin climbing upward.

Floke squinted. "Do yer think they're sufficiently far enough h'up, master Forty? Yore h'ossifer material, h'it's yore decision."

Forty scratched his chubby stomach reflectively and looked up from the climbing vermin to the huge pile of boulders artfully held in position by one long aspenwood wedge. "Hard t'say, really; actually I think it's a bit thick layin' decisions on my doorstep, old chap. I mean, you're supposed to be senior wallah round here."

Floke placed his footpaw against the wedge. "Well, yore a right young corker, you are, master Forty. Colonel Sandgall said you was trainee h'ossifer in charge o' this h'operation, yore supposed t'give the blinkin' orders!"

247.

248.

249.

Forty made a face. He felt hungry and peeved. "Oh, right ho then, it's jolly hot out here an' I'm starvin'. Away wedge, Floke, an' that's an order!"

The older hare chuckled. "That's wot h'l likes ter see, a young h'ossifer in command."

One swift kick from Floke's footpaw sent the wedge sailing into s.p.a.ce, closely followed by a great shower of boulders.

Aggal pawed sweat from his eyes as he shielded them and peered upward. "Bound ter be a openin' up there... Yaaaaaamrgh!"

Had not the boulders bounced out from the face, there would have been total slaughter among the climbers, but as it was nearly half their number were wiped out by the falling rocks, Aggal being the first to go.

Floke watched the scene from his high perch, shaking his head and muttering, "Serve youse right for attackin' us in the first place, ain't that right, master Forty. Master Forty, sir?"

But the hungry young hare had gone inside, never having once missed afternoon tea since his hero, Lord Sunflash, had introduced it a couple of seasons back.

Sunflash was down and waiting in the shelter of the base at the mountain's left side. He watched as the hordebeasts rounded a bend in the rock. Suddenly he saw Swartt, as usual, letting the others go in front of him. All the Badger Lord's previous plans deserted him at the sight of his hated enemy; Sunflash felt the bloodwrath rise within his brain. Throwing caution to the four winds, he swung his club and came charging out of cover.

"Eeulaliaaaaaaa!"

It was a frightening sight to the foebeasts; a giant badger clad in chain mail, helm, and wielding a mace the like of which few of them had ever seen. They turned and ran, Swartt with them. Roaring his war cry, Sunflash pursued them recklessly.

Sabretache was back up at the chamber window with Colonel Sandgall and Sundew, all of them watching the progress of the battle on me sh.o.r.e below. Zigu's command had been taken over by a weasel called Bleeknose, an active, quick thinker. He had led his troops into the stake trench, where they had smashed the wooden spikes, piling them with the carca.s.ses of the slain on the edge of the trench and covering them with sand. The result was a good trench fronted by earthworks, from which the horde could send arrows, spears, or slingstones against the mountain defenders.

Colonel Sandgall sent a dispatch runner to the lower windows and openings. "Tell the squads t'come up here, perfect spot for shootin' down into that trench, wot. All the harder for the bally vermin to send blinkin' missiles this far up. What d'you say,'Tache, old lad?"

Sabretache groaned aloud at what he saw below. "Oh my giddy aunt, take a look at this, sah!"

There was Sunflash, alone and unprotected out on the sh.o.r.e, roaring his defiance in the face of me enemy. Swartt had fled almost to the sea, leaving most of the horde as a barrier between himself and his foe.

Sandgall squinched his brow down hard on his monocle. "Instant calamity, wot! Lordship's goin' t'get 'imself ma.s.sacred, there's enough vermin down there t'kill ten badgers! Bloodwrath or no blinkin' bloodwrath, they'll 'ave 'im. Calls for swift action, 'Tache, jump to it!"

Sundew stared anxiously at the lone figure down on the sh.o.r.e. "They're shootin' arrows at him!" she cried.

Swartt was angry with himself. He had come all this way for vengeance, only to turn tail and run at the sight of Sunflash.

250.

Breathlessly he splashed through the shallows to the line of rocks that stretched from sh.o.r.e to sea.

Nightshade could see what had taken place, and artfully she soothed the Warlord's bruised ego. "n.o.beast could stand against the badger in his madness, Sire. You did well to escape him; besides, I know you want to take him alive so that you may have your revenge bit by bit, you always said that."

The ferret ceased pounding his mailed paw against the rocks and looked hopefully at his seer. "You've got a plan, vixen, tell me!"

"We'll snare him like a fish in a net, Lord."

"Fool, where is there a net big enough to 'old 'im? We don't 'ave any such net."

"No, but we still have a few big tent canvases...."

The Warlord's face split into a huge grin. "Of course! 'E can't club 'is way through canvas. Once we bag the badger, those 'ares'll fold like dead bark!"

Sunflash was beset on all sides. He whirled and roared in a fury, unable to get at his attackers. The vermin kept their distance, slinging rocks and firing arrows. The heavily meshed mail tunic and iron war helmet were weighing the Badger Lord down, but he could not chance removing them. His paws sank deep in the soft sand, and, bellowing and howling, he shook the big mace.

"Eeulaliaaaaaa!"

Rocks and shafts clanged and thudded against the enraged Badger Lord. The vermin circled like small vicious predators trying to bring down a big beast, hurling their missiles and keeping out of his range. Sand was in every crevice of his chain mail. The iron helmet, hot from the sun's rays, caused sweat to trickle over Sunflash's head, into his mouth, down his ears, blinding and stinging his maddened eyes. Nowhere through the small visor slits could he see his enemy, Swartt. He began floundering, and an arrow thudded deep into his 251.

unprotected paw. With a roar he tore the shaft out and, snapping it in two, he hurled it at his unseen tormentors. A spear raked his footpaw as he lifted it from the entrapping sand. Blundering and staggering, he tottered toward the rocks, not knowing in which direction he was moving.

Then the canvases trapped him like a great fish in a net.

Suddenly Sunflash felt the enveloping weight fall on him, driving him down on all fours into the sand. Everything went dark. As he fought blindly against the tough, unyielding canvas, he could vaguely hear Swartt's voice.

"Keep those blades away, I want 'im alive! Jump on that canvas, pile sand on it-we've got 'im!"

Completely stifled and overburdened, the badger's heimeted head hit the soft sand, his senses swimming as he fought for breath.

253.

33.

It was an hour after dawn when Abbess Meriam discovered Bryony had left the Abbey. Sadly, she sat on the empty truckle bed, looking at the disarrayed sheets and touching the dented pillow where her friend's head had lain.

Meriam read again the note that Bryony had left, ' 'Redwall will not be the same without our little flower,'' she whispered, and turned to see Bella standing in the doorway.

"Alas, no, my heart will be heavy each time I see her empty place at table,'' said the ancient silver badger as she sat beside Meriam on the bed. "Do you think she will ever return?"

"Oh, yes. One day when Bryony is older and wiser we will see her walking back through our gates, of that I am sure." Then the Abbess's paw clenched and her voice became harsh. "Unless some bad fate befalls her as she follows Veil-trouble pursues that vermin like winter follows autumn. A young maid alone ... we should send someone after her."

252.

Bella rose slowly. "No, Meriam," she said gravely. "The path that Bryony follows was marked out for her by fate and seasons long ago. All we can do now is send our hearts and feelings out to her, wherever she is."

Bella leaned on Meriam's paw, and the two friends quit the deserted room, which seemed emptier than it had ever been before.

Gra.s.shoppers chirruped their ceaseless dry cadence; somewhere high in the cloudless blue a skylark trilled; bees droned busily from kingcup to meadow saffron, and b.u.t.terflies perched upon scabious flowers, their wings like small, still sails on the calm air. Bryony stopped awhile, enjoying the feel of dry curling gra.s.s underpaw as she got her bearings. The sun was still easterly and climbing toward high noon. She moved until it was against her right shoulder, striding off after Veil. She had overheard Skipperjo's challenge to the ferret and knew that the great mountain lay somewhere due west.

It took Byrony some time to shake off the feeling of depression she had encountered when leaving Redwall. All morning she kept looking back at the Abbey, watching it diminish in size as she got farther away. Finally she crossed a long rolling hill and Redwall was lost to sight. The mousemaid knew what she must do: find Veil and bring him back, even (bough he had been made Outcast and sent away. Bryony had been forming her own plans for both of them. Her Mossflower friends would help; together they would build a small dwelling in the woodland, close to Redwall. There she would live with Veil, teaching him to behave well and showing all at Redwall how he had changed for the good. Maybe, just maybe, Bella would one day regret her decision and allow Veil to return to the Abbey. Cheered up by these thoughts and her resolute optimism, Bryony strode onward, singing an old Abbey ballad.

254.

"I search for the summer o'er fields far and still, Though seasons may take me wherever they will, Cross vale and o'er hill as the warm winds blow down, 'Twas there I found autumn gold, russet, and brown. I wandered the lands 'neath a misty morn sky. 'Til the frost rimed a small icy tear from my eye. O winter, cold winter turns short days to night. And dresses the lea in a gown of pure white. So windswept and sad until yon comes the day, A pale morn of sunlight melts snowflakes away. See greenshoots a-pushing to pierce the bare earth, Bringing fair-colored flowers to herald springbirth, As spinney and woodland grow leafier each day, Young birds sing that summer is soon on its way. I'll find me the glade that my heart recalls best, In my soft summer dell I will lay down to rest."

It was midnoon before Bryony decided to take a break and eat something. Choosing a shaded patch on the side of a broken hill, she sat down and opened her haversack. Pouring pen-nycloud cordial into her beaker, she selected a russet apple and recalled helping to store the apples in dry straw at the end of the previous autumn's harvest. It was only when she took out one of Friar Bunfold's home-baked oat scones from the pack that emotions overcame her. There was n.o.beast around to see, so the mousemaid gave full rein to her grief, weeping unashamedly as she drank cordial and ate her scone. Memories of Redwall flooded over her like spring tide hitting a dry beach. Teardrops spattered onto the half-bitten apple and dampened her traveling habit.

"Er, hrumm, hrumm, I'll 'ave that if y'don't like it, mouse!"

She looked up to see a very fat robin watching her. It nod- 255.

ded at the scone. "Y'don't 'ave to eat that if n it makes y'cry. Give it t'me, y'll fee! 'appier, I know y'will."

Bryony tried wiping her eyes on her sleeve, but the tears kept rolling down unchecked. She broke off a piece of the scone and tossed it to the robin. "H ... h ... here, n . . . now g ... go 'way and leave m ... m ... me!"

The robin pecked at the scone critically, bobbing its head. "Mmm, mm, very tasty, very nice. Gone an' give y'self hiccups now, 'aven't you, should never whinge while eatin', bad fyou!"

Bryony turned her head away, still trying to stem the tears. "I'm n ... not whinging, j .. .just 1... leave m ... me alone p . . . please!" She broke off another piece of scone and gave it to the nosy bird.

Huffily he seized it and fluttered off slowly. "Chipp! Not very good company, are y'mouse?"

Bryony got her hiccups under control and shouted after the bird, "You didn't see a ferret pa.s.s this way, by any chance?"

The robin flew swiftly back, eating his piece of scone before he ventured a reply. "Might 'ave. Give me the rest o' that cake an' I'll tell you. Cake's no good t'you, on'y makes y'cry."

Bryony pa.s.sed over the remainder of the scone. The robin began pecking it thoughtfully, head to one side.

"Got any more o' these in that bag?"

The mousemaid sniffled away the last of her tears angrily. "No, I have not. Now will you please tell me if you saw the ferret pa.s.s this way!"