Brian Jacques - Redwall #20 - Eulalia!

Ragchin denied the accusation vehemently. "No, Cap'n, no, yore der leader, everybeast knows dat!"

Vizka was about to speak, when Maudie's distant cry rang out. "Eulaliiiaaaa!"

The golden fox released Ragchin immediately. "Dat ain't from too far off, roller me, buckoes, an' norra werd outta anybeast!"

Rangval sat by the embers of the fire, staring at the crumpled figure of the vole. "Orkwil, me ould mate, it looks like yore not the only one who wants t'get his paws on that sword."

Maudie placed her footpaw on the boulder that had slain the unfortunate creature. "Rather. Well, that poor fool didn't suffer much, wot. I wonder what scallywag did the deed?"

Rangval averted his face from the still-smoking remains

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of the burnt magpie. "Phwaw! Can ye imagine anybeast wantin' to eat that?"

Orkwil had been casting about the scene, he wandered off toward some ferns, not too far off. "I think I've found tracks here, some kind of vermin. Aye, this'll be him, sure enough." He reached the fernbed, and went into it stooping. "Aye, this is the murderer, he's been slashin' round at these ferns, choppin' 'em all ways with the swo--"

Swooping out of the ferns behind him, the golden fox moved like lightning. Wrapping the mace chain around Orkwil's neck he crossed his paws and tugged hard, calling aloud, "One move an' I snaps 'is neck!"

Maudie and Rangval froze, the haremaid muttering, "You harm one spike of his head an' I'll kill you!"

Vizka tugged on the wooden mace haft. "Yer in no position ter give orders, rabbet. Ahoy, crew!"

There was a noise behind Rangval, he turned to see a whole crowd of vermin coming over the hill. "No good ar-guin', Maudie, the fox is holdin' all the acorns in this game. He's got us for certain!"

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It was night. Gorath could look up and see the stars, countless numbers of them, some glittering, others still and unwinking. His grandfather had shown him stars when he was small, hanging in the skies above the Northern Coast, brilliant and cold as blue ice. Not like these stars, some almost gold, warm-looking, suspended in the soft, dark, Mossflower night.

A thought occurred to the young badger. What was he doing here, lying in a depression formed by three hilltops? He recalled a star, like some huge, flaming comet, exploding inside his skull. Then a black veil, enveloping his mind. Two creatures were talking nearby, their voices almost muted. One sounded young, feminine.

"But, Tabura, he looks far too big and powerful to have fainted away as you said."

The other voice was old, husky, with a rumble like far-off midsummer thunder.

"See the scar, he has been sorely wounded some time ago. A dangerous thing for a Warrior of the Bloodwrath. His rage overwhelmed him, he could not control the anger. It is well that we found him before his enemies did, Salixa. Try giving him a little water, he should be coming round. Not too much, just a sip or two."

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Gorath was fully awake, but he held his silence, allowing the one called Salixa to raise his head. He drank sparingly from the scallop shell which was pressed to his lips. The water tasted cold and sweet. Sitting up slowly, Gorath could see he was west of the Abbey, on top of one of the few rises which dotted the flatlands.

Two badgers sat silently watching him. The old male gave a soft, homespun cloak to the younger one, a slender badgermaid. She draped it about Gorath's shoulders as the old one spoke.

"We did not make fire, for fear of being seen by foes."

Gorath felt the pitchfork, lying nearby. He picked it up. "This is called Tung. My name is Gorath, I fear nobeast!"

The old badger nodded. "I can see that you do not know fear, Gorath. This maid is my travelling companion, she is Salixa. I am called Tabura."

The young badger's eyes were wide with recognition. "Did you say 'Tabura'?" The name leapt unbidden to Gorath's tongue.

He detected a slight chuckle in the oldster's voice. "How does one so young know of the Tabura?"

"My grandmother used it often. If my grandfather and she were disputing anything, and he won the argument, she'd say, 'Huh, you're becoming a real Tabura.' Also, if I ever had a question that neither of them could answer, they'd tell me to wait until I met the Tabura, and ask him."

The maid, Salixa, refilled the scallop shell with water, passing it to her elder, who merely wet his lips with it before replying.

"We are different creatures, you and I, Gorath, each at opposite ends of the same scale. Once there were many badgers who were called Tabura, they devoted their lives to peace, and the search for knowledge. There were also the warriors, those who were born with Bloodwrath.

"As vermin conquerors arose throughout the lands, there was a need for more warriors, and fewer wisebeasts. I once had a brother, he was a Bloodwrath badger, just like

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you, Gorath. It is seasons out of mind since I last saw him. Being the warrior he was, his bones have probably long whitened under some far sun. But enough of my mean-derings, tell me, what roads in your short life have brought you here?"

Gorath felt he could immediately trust the Tabura, he related his whole life to him. However, as he spoke his gaze wandered constantly to Salixa. Even though she spoke not a word, and Gorath could not make out her features clearly in the darkness, he could feel understanding, and a silent compassion, flowing from the badgermaid. The Tabura sat with his eyes closed, never interrupting, or questioning. When Gorath had ended his narration, the old badger remained quiet for a long time before speaking.

"Tell me, would you wish me to help you? I can see you have much to learn. A Tabura can be of great assistance to one such as you. I do not require an answer right away, rest here with us tonight. We will speak again in the morning, Gorath."

Apart from his grandparents, Gorath had never known any other badgers. The kinship he felt with Tabura and Salixa was totally natural. He felt obliged to reply. "Tabura, thank you for your offer of help. I accept. Tell me what I need to do."

A rare, slow smile touched the old badger's face. "Salixa and I need to visit Redwall Abbey. It is a place I have heard much about. As you are already acquainted with its creatures, perhaps you'd like to introduce us?"

Gorath rose, pointing in the direction of the huge, dark shape to the east. "But of course, I'd be glad to. We'll go there now, it's no great journey, I'm sure they'll welcome us!"

The Tabura held out his paw. "Lend me your weapon, to use as a staff. Salixa, walk ahead with Gorath, I'll follow at my own pace."

They strolled over the flatlands at a leisurely pace.

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Tabura kept a few steps behind, which Gorath suspected was the old one's way of allowing them to talk together. Salixa stayed quiet at first, letting Gorath take the initiative.

"Are you related to the Tabura, is he your grandfather?"

The badgermaid stooped to pick a small plant, she sniffed it briefly. "Scabious, it's said to be good for rashes, I like the flower, it's a pretty lilac colour. The Tabura is no relation to me, he is kind and wise, like a very old father. He's teaching me to be a healer, I know lots of plants and herbs, even tree barks and roots."

Gorath accepted the scabious flower from her. "How do you come to be with him?"

Salixa glanced back, satisfying herself that the old badger was not listening, before she replied. "I only know what he told me, I must have been too young to recall anything. I had no parents, or kin. The Tabura found me with a small vermin band. He took me from them, I did not even have a name, they called me stripedog and kept me on a rope halter. Tabura named me Salixa, an ancient name for willow trees, he said it was because I was so slender, like a willow sapling."