Brian Jacques - Redwall #01 - Lord Brocktree

They hurried across, keeping nervous eyes on Doomeye, who was restringing his bow. Ripfang sneered at them. "Well, well, wot've we got 'ere? A shower o' cowards with no uniforms or weapons. You lot better make yer selves slings an' gather some stones. Might look better on yer if you 'elp to capture the Bark Crew."

Back at the rocks, Stiffener was assessing the situation. "Well, we've given the vermin some reinforcements now. Still, we'd never 'ave killed 'em in cold blood. They can't wait us out, 'cos they ain't got the supplies to do it, though neither've we. The bluebottoms still outnumber us by far too many, but we're still dangerous an' well armed. They'll try to pick us off one by one, now that they've got us surrounded. Mebbe when dark falls they'll try a charge. What d'you think, Brog?"

The sea otter was sharpening a javelin against the rock. He nodded grimly. "Aye, that's when they'll come. It'll be the Bark Crew's last stand. Haharr, but we'll make it a good 'un, eh, mates?"

Hares and otters gripped their weapons tighter.

"Aye, no surrender an' no quarter given or asked!"

"Take as many as we can with us!"

"Remember Lord Stonepaw and the others, chaps!"

This time Ripfang kept Doomeye close by, where he could keep an eye on him. Both rats lay behind a mound of sand they had set up. Ripfang watched the noon shadows beginning to lengthen. A cry rang out from the rocks.

"Eulaaaliiiiaaaa!"

The ferocity of the war cry caused the searat a momentary shudder. But he soon recovered himself. "Hah, we've got ye outnumbered by far. Shout all ye want, it won't do youse any good when night comes an' we charge. I'll paint those rocks red with yore blood!"

No news had come back to the mountain of the trap that had been laid for the Bark Crew, but Ungatt Trunn felt in better humor than he had for some while. One of his captains had come across a hidden cupboard in the larders, containing three casks of aged rose and greengage wine. He donated two of the casks to be shared among his horde captains, and the remaining one he had broached himself. All afternoon he drank deeply from it. The wine induced a pleasant and languorous feeling, and he drifted off into a peaceful sleep as noon sunlight poured through the chamber windows.

Stretched on Lord Stonepaw's bed, the wildcat dreamed of nothing in particular. The North Mountains, where his old father reigned, his younger brother Verdauga Greeneye, waiting to inherit the throne. Or maybe he was nothe might be considering the life of a conqueror, like his elder brother Ungatt. The sleeper smiled. Nobeast living could claim to have won anything as spectacular as this mighty mountain. Salamandastron, the legendary home of Badger Lords. Ungatt Trunn sighed and turned in his sleep. Then the vision altered. A huge dark paw wrapped itself about his face, blinding and smothering him. The Badger Lord, he had come, he had come!

"Mmmmffff! Uuuurgh! Help me! Gmphhhh!"

"Sire, lie still while I get this blanket from your head."

Writhing wildly, Ungatt Trunn lashed out, and caught his Grand Fragorl a blow which sent her spinning across the room. Ripping and shredding with lethal claws, the wildcat tore the homely blanket from about his head and sat up panting, his head aching abominably. All semblance of good humor had deserted him. "Who gave you permission to enter my chamber?" he growled at Fragorl.

The ferret rose groggily. "Sire, you called for help. I came to assist you."

The wildcat tossed the tattered blanket aside and made to rise. "Assist me? You whey-faced poltroon, you dared to think that you have the right to assist me? Begone before I throw your worthless hide from the window!"

The Grand Fragorl fled the chamber, followed by a wine goblet, which smashed on the door as it slammed.

"I could have taken this mountain unaided! Ungatt Trunn the Earth Shaker needs help from nobeast. Go on, whine, starve, moan, blunder about, all of you! This is my mountain, I rule it alone, I can hold it alone! Every creature here depends on me, I don't need any of you!"

Outside, the two guards moved further down the passage, away from the door.

"Shift along there, mate. Don't get too close when the chief's in one of 'is dark moods."

"Aye, the cap'ns are all like that, too. Wot d'you suppose started it all?"

"Guzzlin' wine on a midsummer noon, on empty stomachs, too. I done it meself once. Doesn't improve the temper, I can tell ye. Wish it'd get dark, so the night watch could come an' relieve us. 'Tis dangerous stannin' 'round 'ere."

Ignoring the glories of a setting sun on the sea's far horizon, the Bark Crew perched in the rocks, anxiously scanning the humps of sand surrounding them. Behind each one, several vermin lay, armed and ready, waiting for the shades of night to descend. Brogalaw spoke without turning to Stiffener, his eyes roving back and forth.

"Wot grieves me about all this is no matter 'ow many we takes t'the Dark Forest with us, 'twon't make much difference to the numbers Trunn 'as to serve 'im."

The boxing hare checked the shaft on his bowstring.

"Shame, ain't it, but that's the way o' things, Brog. Willip, are you all right, mate?"

The old hare adjusted the makeshift bandage on her brow. "Fit enough t'fight, sah! But I'm jolly hungry, doncha know. Funny how a bod can think of food at a blinkin' time like this, wot? Can't help it, thoughthe old turn's rumblin' twenty t'the dozen!"

The sea otter chuckled and shook his head. "Tis no wonder they call hares perilous beasts. Death facin' us, an' that 'un has dinner on 'er mind!"

Stiffener shrugged. "Wot's on yore mind, Brog?"

Brogalaw glanced at the darkening sky. "My ole murn, the rest o' my crew, Durvy, young Konul an' the mateys I grew up with. I'd just like to clap eyes on 'em one last time. Any beast you'd like t'see, Stiff?"

"Hmm, those twin grandsons o' mine, Southpaw an' Bobweave. You should've seen 'em, Brog. Two braver fighters you'd never come across in a season's march. I reared 'em, y'know, until they grew restless an' left the mountain. Mebbe 'twas just as well they did, the way things turned out."

As the night drew on, voices began chanting from behind the sand humps which the vermin had put up for protection.

"Ungatt! Trunn Trunn Trunn!"

Brogalaw's grip tightened around the javelin. "Haharr, 'twon't be much longer now, mates. 'Ear 'em gettin' their nerve up to charge."

The speed and volume of the chant increased.

"Ungatt! Trunn Trunn Trunn! Ungatt! Trunn Trunn Trunn!"

From the rock circle the otters and hares answered with their own defiant war cry.

"Blood'n'vinegar! Eulaliiiiiaaaaaaaa!"

Stiffener centered his arrow on the dark forms breaking cover. "Stand fast, mates, 'ere they come!"

The vermin charged.

Chapter 30

In a wide valley formed by four grass-topped sand dunes, Lord Brocktree put aside his empty plate and beaker. He lay back upon the sand next to Fleetscut and sighed contentedly, gazing up at dizzying myriads of stars strewn about the soft night sky.

"Tomorrow you say, around late noon?"

Fleetscut left off munching wild raspberries from the prone position and nodded. "Indeed, sah, we should reach Salamandastron about then, providin' we're up an' about by dawn, wot."

Ruff joined them, Bucko, too, both highly pleased.

"Well, we did it, Brock, a half-season march!"

"Och, an' ye said et were nae mair than a wee patrol!"

Fleetscut wrinkled his nose mischievously. "Had t'say somethin' t'keep you chaps goin', wot? Bit of a fib, but we made it. Heehee, sorry 'bout that, my wee patrol turned out t'be somethin' of a long patrol, wot wot!"

The Badger Lord closed his eyes and mused. "Long patrol, hmmmm. I'd say that was a Whooooofh!"

Skittles had jumped from somewhere high up one of the dunes. He landed like a stone on Brocktree's stomach, driving the wind from him completely. The hogbabe seized his friend's whiskers and hauled on them.