Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

The broad blade flashed in the candlelit hall. Then it stopped in midair. Zwilt was still grasping it, but his mouth was wide open, as though he was silently screaming.

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Buckler watched in amazement as the sable lost his grip on the sword. He swayed once, then fell to a kneeling position, facing his intended victim. A hoarse rattle issued from Zwilt's throat; his eyes held a look of surprise as he stared at Buckler. Then he toppled sideways on the stairs. Dead!

Clarinna was bent over him still holding the hilt of Martin the Warrior's legendary sword, which she had driven deep between Zwilt's shoulder blades. The hare-wife stood dry-eyed, her voice unusually harsh for such a gentle creature.

"That's for Clerun Kordyne, the father of my babes, who you murdered!"

Baby Dubdub lay on the floor where the guard had placed him before running off with the other Ravagers, who had quickly released Buckler. He seemed none the worse for his recent ordeal, repeating the last word he had heard, over and over.

"Murdered, murdered, murdered!"

Leaving Martin's sword protruding from Zwilt, Clarinna picked up little Dubdub. She wept into his tender spikes.

Abbess Marjoram came hurrying with her friends. Buckler stood, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the stiffness. He gathered the broadsword and the medal from his fallen enemy's neck, passing them to Clarinna. "These belong in your family. I'm sorry I couldn't have slain Zwilt for you, marm."

Abbess Marjoram had retrieved Buckler's blade. She held it out to him. "Don't be sorry. You did something far braver than slaying a vermin--you offered to sacrifice your life to save another."

The young hare did not stop to dispute the point. He sped off, rapier in paw, for the door.

"Maybe so, but there's four vermin loose within Red-wall, and we're being invaded from the west flatlands!"

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Buckler came running up to the walltop, thinking to use it as a viewpoint to seek out the four vermin guards. He was almost knocked flat by Bartij, who bustled past him carrying a boulder.

The big hedgehog beckoned to the stones piled on the walkway. "Lend a paw here, Buck. We need more stones. That young badgermaid's got our cattypult goin'. Hoho, ye should see it lobbin' stones at yon vermin!"

Skipper was alongside theballista, waving. "Ahoy, mate, come an' see this thing workin'!"

Ambrevina had made a few alterations to the weapon. Now it had two thick young alder saplings, sturdy trunks, culled from the Abbey grounds. Between these, an old canvas groundsheet was laced. She had rigged the whole thing up on the original timbers. Ropes were attached to the tops of the alders. These were secured to a heavy baulk of oak, which had a hole drilled in it. A team of moles and Witherspyk hogs hauled on the ropes, leaning their weight on the oaken baulk. This bent the alder saplings backward until a wooden peg, anchored to the timber base, could be inserted into the baulk hole.

Four good-sized rocks were laid in the canvas sling. Jango stood on the battlements, watching the oncoming

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Ravagers. The Guosim Log a Log called the range. "Back! Stop! Left a bit! Stop! Ready, Ambry!"

Using a bung mallet, the badgermaid knocked the peg out with a sharp tap, releasing the stone load. There was a whoosh of air as the four rocks shot off over the battlements and out over the flatland into the ranks of the advancing vermin. Even though they scattered, the missiles fell so swiftly that two were slain and three more lay injured, screaming in the dust.

Skipper nodded at the Abbey building. "Everythin' alright down there, Buck?"

The young hare moved out of the way, allowing a mole to stumble past under the weight of a big sandstone chunk.

"Zwilt was in the Abbey, but he's been slain. There's four vermin loose in the grounds, an' Diggs is lyin' wounded in the kitchen!"

Skipper picked up his javelin. "I'll see t'the vermin. Sister Fumbril, will ye go an' attend our mate Diggs? He's been injured."

The Warrior mole Axtel had been listening. He stumped off down the wallstairs, brandishing his war hammer. "You'm leave ee vurmints to oi, zurrs. They h'aint a-goin' nowheres twixt ee four walls. Oi'll see to 'em. Hurrr!"

Sister Fumbril joined Axtel. "Then ye can walk me as far as the kitchens, sir."

Buckler took a rock from old Granvy. It was far too heavy for the aged Recorder, who smiled his thanks.

"Thank the seasons we have a creature who knows about these ballista things. Dame Fortune must've sent the badgermaid to us. Apparently, the beasts where she comes from, on the eastern coastlands, use them all the time. Both she and her family have sunk many a searat galley before it ever came to shore."

Oakheart Witherspyk leaned on the threshold wall, watching the vermin advance. "The scoundrels are still comin', sirrah. It strikes me that one ballista ain't enough to stop all of 'em. What say ye, Buck?"

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The hare came to join his friend on the threshold. "Aye, Oakie, this is where the final battle will be--on this point, where the hill is piled in front of Redwall's gate. Once they cross that ditch, they'll try an' force an entry by chargin' us. Unless..."

The Sable Quean stood at the back of the slow-moving advance, urging the Ravagers forward. "They can't get us all with a few boulders. Double-march them, Grakk. The quicker we reach that hill of rubble, the sooner we'll make an end of it. The woodlanders are still outnumbered. We can do it with one good charge. Speed up the chant, get them moving."

Grakk could see great things ahead for himself. Boldly, he marched along with the rear ranks, roaring out, "Wait'll we gets in there, bullies! Ye can eat all ye like, sleep on soft beds an' be waited on tail an' paw by woodlander slaves! Sable Quean Vilaya! Kill kill kill!"

Not committed yet to a head-on charge, the Ravagers broke into a shambling trot, waving their weapons and taking up the call, which spurred them on.

"Kill! Kill! Kill! Victory to Vilaya, Sable Quean!"

Having left Redwall by the small north wallgate, with a heavily armed force, Buckler, Jango and a crew of Guosim warriors sped silently along to put the plan into action. Emerging from the woodlands north of the Ravagers, they hurried over the path, then slipped quietly into the ditch. A short time thereafter, they were in the main gate area, peering over the ditchtop at the unsuspecting vermin advance.

The Guosim were in two lines, one behind the other. Buckler commanded the front line.

"Put shafts to bowstrings, an' make every arrow count. On my word now. Stand! Draw! Shoot!"

The front rank of Ravagers were taken by surprise. The sudden volley of barbed shafts hit them hard.

Buckler signalled his archers to stand back; Jango took

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over. "Back row, forward! Slings an' javelins! Stand! Throw! Fall back!"

This time it was a salvo of stones and fire-hardened ashwood javelins which hit home, thinning the Ravager horde. They fell flat, returning the missiles with their own stones, spears and arrows.

Vilaya lay facedown on the flatland, striking at Grakk's footpaws. "Get them up, keep going, we're almost there!"

Orders rang out from the ditch. More shafts, javelins and slingstones pelted down on the vermin. Grakk was about to rise when a dull whump rent the air. Black smoke billowed out, followed by sparks and flames.

Jango tossed the empty cauldron of dirty kitchen fat on the blazing battering ram. Slapping his ears with a paw, he blinked through the billowing haze. "Scorched me ears, whiskers'n' blinkin' eyebrows to a frazzle, there. Ahoy, Buck!"

Buckler shoved the Shrew Chieftain ahead of him, along the ditch bottom with the rest of his Guosim fighters. "Hurry, mate, back to the Abbey while they're still won-derin' what happened!"