Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

Everybeast turned to see what had caused this weird effect on the stoat. Eyes popped wide, jaws dropped, the vermin and their captain stood transfixed by the apparition. Vilaya walked unhurriedly up until she was facing the Weasel Captain, whom she addressed by name.

"Are you in charge now, Grakk?"

The weasel was trembling uncontrollably as he managed a stumbling reply. "Ch-charge, y'Majesty er, er, no, I'm only a cap'n, marm. Er, er, it's Fallug's in charge, er, Lord Zwilt made 'im a boss, er, Majesty!"

Vilaya repeated the name. "Fallug. I don't know that one. Take me to him, Grakk. Bring these Ravagers with you."

Fallug was revelling in his newfound authority, which had many benefits. Some of his foragers had brought in a large clutch of partridge eggs, of which he would take the largest share. He sat watching them roast the eggs in hot ashes, well out of range from Redwall missiles. Fallug was retrieving the first of the cooked eggs with a twig when a ferret pointed out what was going on.

"Lookit, Boss, they've left off fightin' an' they're all comin' over 'ere.... An' the Quean's with 'em!"

Fallug shaded his eyes, staring hard at the lead figure. There was no doubt about it--the Sable Quean was unmistakable. Murmurs ran through the foraging party.

"But I thought Zwilt killed 'er!"

"Aye, 'e did. I saw Zwilt do it meself, mate!"

"Then why's she 'ere? Why ain't she dead?"

"Maybe ... maybe she's a ghost, come back to slay us all!"

They began edging back, ready to break and run off.

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Fallug was not about to relinquish his new high office, nor was he about to show fear in front of his command. "Git back 'ere, ye ole frogwives, she ain't goin' to slay nobeast. Lord Zwilt'll sort this out when he gits back. Meanwhile, I'm the boss o' this army, an' I ain't afeared o' nobeast, livin' or dead!"

When Vilaya arrived at the smouldering fire, all the Ravagers stood to attention. All except Fallug, who was still crouched over the ashes, pulling roasted eggs clear with his twig.

Vilaya looked down at him. Her voice held the ring of authority as she spoke. "Are you the beast they call Fallug?"

Dropping the twig, Fallug drew his dagger, making a show of cracking a partridge egg with the blade. He replied boldly, "Aye, I'm Boss Fallug, an' I'm in charge around 'ere until Lord Zwilt gits back!"

The onlookers to this confrontation were surprised when Vilaya smiled approvingly. Her tone was almost cheerful. "Well said, Boss Fallug. That's the way it should be! But the Sable Quean has always ruled over all Ravagers, so I'll take charge now. You won't be needed anymore." Reaching down, she patted the back of his neck.

Oakheart Witherspyk had mounted the battlements once more, trying to assess the new situation, which was puzzling them all.

"D'ye think somethin's going on out there, Skipper?"

The otter leaned on the walltop. "Aye, mate, I do, an' I just wish I knew exactly wot it was."

Buckler climbed up alongside Oakheart. "They've all gathered round that campfire over yonder, too far t'see what's goin' on."

Axtel drew the war hammer from his belt. "You'm wanten oi to goo an' take ee lukk, zurr? Et woan't bee no trubble to oi."

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Diggs interposed hastily. "No need for that, old lad. Rest that jolly old footpaw of yours, wot. Besides, who are we to argue if the bloomin' wretched vermin want to chuck in fightin' for the day? Maybe they've decided to take afternoon tea. Jolly good idea, don't y'think, eh, Buck?"

Jango shook his head at the gluttonous young hare. "Don't ye think of anythin' aside o' vittles? We've not long eaten lunch!"

Diggs gave his ears a cavalier wiggle as he set off down the wallsteps. "Pish tush, sah. That's alright for you t'say-- shrews don't need as much bally nourishment as hares do. I'll just toodle off down t'the jolly old kitchens an' see what the Friar is fryin' up, wot! Oh, I say, that was rather a good un, the Friar fryin' up stuff, wot?"

Glancing back, he saw his pun had not been appreciated. With that, he strode off, chunnering. "No sense o' humour. That's the trouble with you mouldy lot. Thought it was pretty funny m'self, Friar fryin' an' all that. My old aunt Twodge was right, where there's no sense, there's no bloomin' feelin'. Huh, she was right!"

Flib climbed up alongside Buckler. She nodded toward the Ravager army. "They might've stopped fightin', but that don't mean the dirty scum ain't hatchin' summat up. Take my word, mate, we'd do well t'keep an eye on that lousy lot!"

Buckler hid a smile, nodding vigorously. "Right, marm, I'll take yore advice, marm, good of ye to mention it, marm, thank ye kindly!"

The Guosim maid eyed him coldly. "Marm me jus' once more an' I'll shove ye off'n this wall... rabbet!"

Buckler tweaked her ear. "Aye, try callin' me rabbet again an' I'll take ye with me, cheekyface!"

Pulling free of the hare's grip, Flib eyed Buckler with a face like thunder.

Jango winked at Buckler. "Growin' up into a proper Guosim lady, ain't she?"

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Sniffy the Tracker nodded over at the foebeasts' position. "Sounds like they're fixin' to start somethin'. Lissen t'that. Sounds like a war chant to me, Chief."

Log a Log Jango cupped an ear in the direction. "Aye, they're yellin' somethin', I can't make out wot it is, though. Ahoy, Flib, me darlin', can ye make out wot those vermin are chantin'?"

After standing for a moment in rebellious silence, Flib relented, complying with her father's request.

"Vilaya, Vilaya, Sable Quean! That's wot they're callin'. Prob'ly workin' themselves up for action."

Buckler nodded courteously toward her. "Thankee, mate. You've got good sharp ears!"

She smiled, her sullen mood fading. "I've got better ears than my pa or Sniffy. You'd be surprised at some o' the things I can hear."

Buckler nodded. "I'm sure I would."

Flib looked toward the Abbey building. "I just heard a noise from over there--bet you didn't!"

Buckler was concentrating more on the Ravagers' shouts, which were growing louder, but to humour Flib, he asked, "What sort of noise was it?"

She shrugged. "Came from the south side o' the Abbey. Sounded like wot you yell out sometimes. Eu-lowly-oh!"

The Salamandastron Blademaster was suddenly alert. "Y'mean Eulalia, the Long Patrol war cry? That'll be Diggs--he must be in some sort of bother! Skip, Jango, keep a close watch on those Ravagers. I'll be back as soon as possible. Guard that rubble pile in front o' the gates. If they charge, they'll try to come at us straight up it. I've got to go!" Drawing the long rapier from its back scabbard, Buckler sped off down the wallsteps.

Grakk had replaced the slain Fallug, who lay stiff on the ground, his face fixed in a hideous grin caused by the adder venom from Vilaya's lethal little knife. She stood

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to one side, nibbling daintily on a roasted partridge egg, watching her new commander whipping the vermin into a battle frenzy. Grakk used thrusts of his spear to emphasise words.

Zwilt was temporarily forgotten, now that the Ravagers had fallen under the spell of their Sable Quean. One who could rise from the dead, and the bars of Hellgates. She who could slay a warrior like Fallug with a single touch of her paw. What else could they do but follow her? En masse, they thundered out their replies to Grakk's questions.

"Who do we serve? Who do we serve?"

"Vilaya! Vilaya! Sable Quean! Yahaaaaaarrrr!"

"An' who are we? What do we do?"

"Ravagers! Ravagers! Kill! Kill! Kill!"

They began the advance, waving spears, axes, pikes and all manner of weaponry. Stamping hard with their footpaws, until the open flatlands thrummed like a great drum, as they repeated over and over, "Vilaya! Vilaya! Sable Quean! Yahaaaaar! Ravagers! Ravagers! Kill! Kill! Kill!"