Part 19 (1/2)

Foremole chuckled as he strolled off with Simeon and the Abbot. ”Oi'm a-thinken they'm got the message, zurrs.

0X0.

Leaning against a battlement, Flagg twirled his sling idly, scanning the northward path. ”All quiet this side, young Saxtus.”

Saxtus licked plumcake from his paws before shouldering his spear. ”This side too, Flagg. But I'm wondering for how long.”

”Hmm, can you feel it too, mate? It's as if there's a sort of calm before the storm. I don't like it.”

210.

Dandin and Mariel were anxious to be away, but half the morning was gone and still they had to wait about. Stonehead's wife, Thunderbeak, had insisted on repro-visioning their empty packs, and she was somewhere off in the woods. Stonehead and his four owlchicks put on several exhibitions of wrestling, b.u.t.ting and kicking. Tarquin and Durry had to keep avoiding being used as demonstration examples. Finally Thunderbeak arrived back with the knapsacks.

”Not much, I'm afraid, but it'll have to do! Plenty of apples, some white mushrooms, wild damsons, not too ripe, bit of celery, some other bits and bobs. Oh, there's some woodland scones, though they've been lying about a bit-my own make, very nouris.h.i.+ng.”

They thanked her, allowed themselves to be pecked and kicked one last time by the owlchicks, then struck westward, led by Stonehead.

The strange forest grew dimmer and more gloomy until finally they were in a world of black shadow and green light. Trees were immensely tall, with long bare trunks crowded together like black columns, the foliage growing at their tops completely blocking daylight, turning it into sinister green shafts. Little or no shrubbery grew on the forest floor, which was composed of squishy dark leaf mold with ma.s.sive tree roots crisscrossing like dark giant veins. Mariel noticed that the silence was total. Whenever they talked their voices echoed spectrally around the gaunt trees. To cheer things up a bit, Tarquin tw.a.n.ged his harolina and began a ditty.

”Old missus hedgehog, here's what she likes, A little fat husband with lots of spikes, And a quarrel with a squirrel Who wears flowers round his middle, And a chestnut for her supper on a winter's night ...”

211.

He came to a faltering halt as Stonehead turned his great golden eyes upon him.

”Do you have to make that silly noise, rabbit? One more song out of you and I'll wrap that hare-liner thing round your skull! This is bad country; we don't want to attract attention to ourselves, do you hear me?”

Tarquin walked behind Durry and Dandin, muttering under his breath, ”Sure sign of a savage, no appreciation of good music. Huh, bet the bally feller wouldn't complain if it was a piece of boiled Flitchaye instead of a piece of beautiful music.”

”Aye,” Durry whispered back, ”an' what's a poor lad t' do, wanderin' round like an ant lost in a dark well bottom? What I wouldn't give fer a flagon of my ol' nuncle's giggly juice right now.”

Mariel watched the back of Stonehead's enormous figure, sometimes hopping before them, other times winging low between the trees. How he knew the way westward was a mystery to her. She had lost all sense of time and distance, tramping through this eerie world.

Quite suddenly, after what seemed an endless trek, Stonehead fluttered onto a fallen tree and turned to them. ”This is it, Swampdark land! Never go any further than here myself! Not afraid of it, just don't like the place! Right, you're on your own now. I won't say good luck, because you'll end up dead or devoured, I'm sure of it! Always remember, though, if you ever get back to my part of the forest give me a call! We McGurneys aren't the wisest owls anywhere, but it's an acorn to an appletree we're the bravest!”

With that he was gone, winging away through the trees before they had a chance to thank him or say goodbye.

Dandin sat on the fallen tree and undid his knapsack. ”Well, goodbye, Stonehead McGurney. I'm starving. Let's sit here awhile and have lunch in peace for a change. Golly, look at this!”

They climbed up onto the fallen trunk, staring in the 212.

direction they would be taking. It was practically pitch-black. Low-hanging trees with heavy weed trailing from them held out knotted and gnarled branches like predatory claws waiting to seize the unwary traveler. The ground was a greeny brown with odd clumps of blue and white flowers sticking up. Through it all ran several raised paths, humps of solid rocky earth which meandered off in various directions. The whole scene was one of complete depression; it weighed on their spirits like a millstone.

”Oh, corks, you chaps. The place is enough t' give a bod the complete pip just lookin' at it, wot?”

Mariel busied herself collecting twigs and dry bark. ”Doesn't it just! Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do -light a fire and cook up something tasty. Who knows the next time we'll get a decent feed, roaming through that lot!”

The suggestion was wholeheartedly endorsed. With flint and tinder they soon had a merry blaze going. The gloom was dispelled temporarily as they delved through their packs.

”Let's toast some o' these liddle mushrooms an' wrap some apples in wet leaves to bake.” Durry was toasting away even as he spoke. Dandin took a bite at one of Thunderbeak's scones. He winced and held the side of his jaw.

”Ouch! I wonder how many seasons ago these were baked!”

Tarquin chuckled. ”We could always sling 'em at any enemies we meet.”

Dandin rummaged farther down his knapsack. Suddenly he gave a cheer. ”Look, it's my flute! I'd forgotten that I'd packed it-must've stuck in my pack lining. Thank goodness the Flitchaye never found it. Well well, can you beat that, eh-the flute of my ancestor Gonff the Thief. Let's see if it still sounds all right.”

Trilling an old Abbey reel called ”Otter in the Orchard,” Dandin set his companions' paws to tapping 213.

as the music skirled and tootled around the lonely trees. Hot food, a glowing fire and merry music lifted the spirits of the travelers. Even the blinking eyes that watched them from the dark swamp stopped winking and stayed wide open with fascination as they awaited the travelers' next move into their miry world.

Fleetleg, Sh.o.r.ebuck and Longeyes returned from the south beaches patrol to Salamandastron. They were first back. The hares found little welcome; the mountain chambers were deserted. Longeyes saw something at the doorway of the badger Lord's forge room: deep-scored marks in the solid rock. He groaned in despair. ”Lord Rawnblade did this with his bare claws, gouged the rockface like this. I knew it would happen someday.”

Sh.o.r.ebuck ran his paws across the scars in the solid rock. ”The Bloodwrath has come upon Rawnblade Wide stripe!”

Fleetleg picked up his lance. ”Come on. We must find him. No badger Lord has suffered the Bloodwrath since Boar the Fighter. But be careful. Rawnblade might kill anybeast foolish enough to stand in his way.”

The fog had long dispersed. Beneath the high bright sun on the tideline the three hares found the results of their Lord's terrible madness. Fully a hundred searat corpses drifted and rolled in the shallows around the reef, hewn, hacked or cleaved through. Blood spattered the stones and swirled in the water, broken swords and shattered spears decorated the rocks. Sh.o.r.ebuck slumped against the reef, his eyes shut to blot out the awful carnage.

”So this is why he got rid of us, sent out all the patrols. I've seen battlefields before, but never anything like this!”

Fleetleg leaned upon his lance. ”It is written that a badger Lord can slay many when the Bloodwrath is 214.

upon him, but how did these searats come here? Where is their s.h.i.+p?”

Longeyes had been wading around the west side of the reef. He called out, ”Here, round here. There's one still alive!”

The searat was mortally wounded. With his life ebbing fast he gasped out what he had witnessed.

”s.h.i.+p . . . Waveblade, ran onto the reef in fog, stuck and holed. Cap'n Orgeye . . . waited until fog went. We fixed s.h.i.+p up, here on reef . . . waitin' for tide to lift us off ... Ohhhh . . . ohhhh . . . monster! Badger came rus.h.i.+ng out of sea . . . Eulaliaaaaa!”

Longeye cradled the searat's head on his lap. ”That was Rawnblade!”

”Rawn . . . blade ... I don't know. Giant . . . water rus.h.i.+n' off his armor, spikes, studs, silver metal . . . Like some wild beast out of the sea. Aaaaahhhh! That sword, like a great jib boom. We didn't stand a chance! D'ye hear me, mates? . . . Fivescore searat fighters an' we didn't stand a chance! Roarin', shoutin', 'Gorsepaw! Crocus! Sergeant Learunner! Killin', slayin' ... I tell yer, mates ...”

Longeye looked at Fleetleg. ”Sergeant Learunner, wasn't he your father?”

Fleetleg stared out to sea. ”Aye, Gorsepaw and Crocus were brother and sister too-my brother and sister. I was only a newborn infant then. Our mother never lasted more than a season after they died. Rawnblade reared me and when I was old enough he told me that he had found them floating on the tideline, delivered there by Gabool and his searats.”

The injured searat lifted his head and stared at Fleetleg. ”Screamin', shriekin' an' a-wailin' . . . An' dyin' . . . Dyin'!”

The searat's head lolled to one side. He died with eyes wide open, horror frozen on his face as his spirit sailed for h.e.l.lgates.

215.

Somewhere out on the blue deeps of the crested sea, the s.h.i.+p Waveblade ran before whichever course the wind chanced to take her. Summer breezes sent spray skimming over the decks, was.h.i.+ng them clean of blood and battlestain. Stretched out on the forecastle, oblivious to all about him, Rawnblade Widestripe slept deeply, still fully armored, his great sword hanging loosely from one paw, unmindful of the stinging salt water which dewed his fresh scars. The awful Bloodwrath had left him; he knew not when it would visit him again. He slept on, as peaceful as any infant at its mother's side.

216.

Evening shadows began closing in on a cloudless sky as the sun reddened and began its descent into the west. The stones of Redwall took from it their dusky red brown hue; heat s.h.i.+mmer on the flatlands gave way to purplish twilight. Gabriel Quill had relieved Saxtus on the walltop. The fat cellarmaster yawned, looked north along the path, blinked and rubbed his eyes before calling across to the west ramparts: ”Sister Serena, marm. What d'you make of this 'ere?”