Part 8 (1/2)

”Graypatch? He's Gabool's best steersrat. It could mean that Gabool has left his island. Darkqueen is the only s.h.i.+p he would sail in if he did.”

Brigadeer Thyme ventured an opinion. ”M'Lord, if old Gabool has taken to sailin' again, there could be trouble.”

Rawnblade arose. He strode across to the window, where he stood gazing at the restless sea ebbing and flowing eternally.

”The prophecies carved on Salamandastron's walls tell of a time coming soon when trouble will become a byword; my destiny and trouble walk the same path paw in paw. Eat and sleep now, my faithful patrols. Our fortunes and fates are written in these rocks. Leave the worrying and wondering to the waves and clouds.”

A night mist had fallen when Graypatch anch.o.r.ed offsh.o.r.e. A longboat was lowered to take the reconnais- sance crew ash.o.r.e. Graypatch stayed aboard with Frink, his lookout, always watching north and west for signs of Gabool in pursuit.

Graypatch called down to Deadglim, his bosun, ”See if you can find a likely spot, mate -fresh water and cover in plenty.”

Deadglim took the scimitar from between his teeth long enough to answer. ”Leave it t' me, Skipper. I've got a nose for likely coves.”

Mist-shrouded moonless night enveloped Deadglim as he led the sh.o.r.e party forward into the dunes. He peered into the darkness.

”Not much 'ereabouts, lads. Nought but sandhills. Here, Gurd, gerrup on yer paws-time fer sleepin' when we're back aboard Darkqueen. Gurd?”

Gurd lay still, unable to answer because of the toad trident lodged in his throat. Immediately a score of tridents descended amid the unsuspecting searats. The screams of two wounded pierced the still night.

Deadglim waved his scimitar, yelling at the silent dunes, ”Come out an' fight! Show yerselves, you cree-pin' bilgewashers!”

Suddenly the dunes echoed to thunderous croaking as countless toads hopped out, armed with tridents. Deadglim knew his challenge had been a foolish one. Throwing valor to the winds, he took to his paws shouting, ”Retreat! Retreat! Back to the longboat!”

From the s.h.i.+p's rail, Graypatch and Deadglim could see the tideline teeming with trident-waving natterjacks. Deadglim shuddered.

”Cap'n, if anybeast ever tells you a toad is slow, don't believe it. We barely made it t' the longboat ahead of those slimy devils. There must be thousands of the croakin' sc.u.m.”

Graypatch turned from the rail. ”Set another course nor' an' east, Fishgill. We'll try our luck farther up the 89.

coast. Jump to it now, you swab. I don't want Gabool hovin' over the briny at our wake!”

Gabool the Wild could not sleep. He paced around and around the bell, chopping at midair with his sword, relating his thoughts to the brazen prize.

”Graypatch'll curse the day he was sp.a.w.ned when I catch up with him. I'll boil his skull an' bring it here for you to see, my beauty -see if I don't. Haharr, first Bludrigg an' then his mizzuble brother Saltar. Corsair, huh! He's nothin' but fishbait now. Like the other two, the scratchy liddle mousemaid an' her dear daddy Joseph, haharr! He's the one that made you, isn't he? Gone to fishbait for his foolishness.”

Bongggggl Gabool jumped back with a yell, then he ran around the bell in a wide circle, searching and seeking, but there was n.o.beast in the room save for himself. Gradually he became calm.

”Haharr, 'twas only the wind playin' tricks.”

Striding back to the bell he stroked it fondly. ”Belay! So what if yer do talk, you can tell old Gabool all your secrets.”

The bell remained silent. The King of Searats gazed up with narrowed eyes at the figures embossed around the top of the bellskirt.

”h.e.l.lsteeth! What do it all mean? Tell me, what's all those pretty liddle pictures, mice, badgers, rats, s.h.i.+ps, an' all manner o'things? You tell me; I'm your master now. Speak! D'you hear me? Speak!”

But the bell remained still and voiceless, an inanimate metal object.

Gabool's wild temper rose. He spat upon the bell and kicked it. Still no sound came forth. In high bad mood he strode from the room, turning in the doorway and brandis.h.i.+ng his sword at the great bell.

”h.e.l.l 'n' gullbait! You'll talk to me afore I'm done with yer!”

90.

He slammed the door furiously and strode off to his bedchamber.

Behind him in the empty room the bell tolled one booming knell.

Gabool's nerve deserted him. He cut and ran. Leaping into bed, he threw the covers over his head and lay there s.h.i.+vering.

cxo Sleep was a long time coming to Gabool the Wild, but when it did he wished that he had stayed awake. Badgers, mice, searats and spectral s.h.i.+ps sailing upon phantom waves pursued him down the corridors of his restless imagination. The figures around the bell had come to life to torment him throughout the long dark night.

Lord Rawnblade too was sleeping. His vast form lay sprawled upon the bed near his armorer's forge in Sala-mandastron mountain. The sword Verminfate lay upon the bed, close to paw as it always was. In his dream the badger Lord found he was looking at the bell that he had commissioned Joseph the Bellmaker to cast for him. It was beautiful, just as he had imagined it would be, s.h.i.+ning with a dull sheen, graven round top and bottom with the poem and the mysterious pictures which only badger Lords could interpret. Now a shape was materializing through the burnished curve of the bell metal-his archenemy Gabool the Wild. Curving sword in claw, the Searat King advanced, ornaments jangling, golden emerald-studded teeth glinting in a fiendish smile. Rawnblade's reaction, even in sleep, was instantaneous; he seized his broadsword and leaped from the bed, striking out with savage force. Clangggggl ”Er, I say, M'lord, old chap, are you all right?” Colonel Clary was at his side. Rawnblade came fully awake, rubbing his eyes with one paw, he gazed down at the sword in the other.

”What? Er, oh, yes, thank you. Clary. It was merely a dream.”

”My aunt's kittens! That must have been rather a jolly dream, M'lud. Look what you did to that s.h.i.+eld!”

Rawnblade stared at the s.h.i.+eld which had been in the way of his swordswing. The thick metal plate had been sheared in half. It lay on the floor, completely severed. Absentmindedly the badger Lord tested the unmarked blade of Verminfate.

”No alarm, old friend. Go back to your rest -it was only a dream.”

”A dream, eh? Something out of the past, perhaps?”

Rawnblade lay back on the bed and held the formidable blade tightly.

”No, this was something from the future. I know it.”

Gabriel Quill stood up amid the tables and multicolored lanterns that graced the orchard. He held a tankard of best October ale high and cried, ”Righto, everybeast. Let's give a real Redwall toast to our Abbot!”

Every creature stood, raising bowls, beakers, tankards, cups and flagons. The soft summer night echoed as the mult.i.tude called aloud in one voice, ”Abbot Bernard! Father of Redwall Abbey! Hurraaaaaaah!”

Saxtus sat down with a groan, holding his middle. ”Whoof! Shouldn't be yelling like that on an overfull stomach.”

Tarquin scoffed as he relieved Saxtus of his plate. Emptying the Forest Trifle, strawberry flan, pear gateau and hazelnut cream junket into his own oversized wooden bowl, he grabbed a spoon and tucked in.

”Haw haw! What's the matter, laddie buck? Little turn too full, is it? Scrumff! Old TarkersTl show you how to navigate yer way round a bowl of tucker, mmm! I say, any more of that summercream pudden stuff left?”

Grubb the Dibbun mole replied as he nodded sleepily forward toward an overheaped plate of woodland sum- 92.

mercream pudding, ”Burr, baint no more pudden, zur. Oi snaffled 'ee last o' it. Snurr!”

Buxton and w.i.l.l.yum mole immediately left off eating huge portions of steaming Bernard Bread and dug into either side of Grubb's plate, eating furiously as the baby mole's sleepy head drooped nearer the pudding.

”Ho, save the choild, 'urry up an scoff quick now, lest the hinfant be drownded in yon pudden. Hurr hurr!”

Tarquin joined them indignantly. ”I say, you chaps, chew each mouthful twenty times and leave this to me. Bally unthinkable, poor little blighter bein' drowned in a plate of pudden. Do not worry, young sire, help is at spoon. I'll save you. Gromff!”

Storm tried to stop spluttering Gabe Quill's giggly b.u.t.tercup 'n' honey cordial across the table. She shook with unbridled laughter at the antics of Tarquin and the two moles rescuing the dozing Grubb. The mouse-maid had never been so happy in any of the life she could remember-the food, the delicious drinks, the food, the kind Abbey creatures, the food, the good friends about her, and, of course . . . the food. Never had she tasted such marvelous things. Alternating between Bernard Bread, blackcurrant pie, summer salad, cheese 'n' nut flan, mintcream cakes and honey-glazed preserved fruits, she held her own with the best trencherbeasts.

Dandin was showing off slightly for her benefit, tossing redcurrants up and catching them in his mouth. He was quite good at it.