Brian Jacques - Redwall #01 - Lord Brocktree

"Aye, but think, we could end up in the same blinkin' boat as the vermin. Under siege an' starvin', if the war takes any time at all!"

"Burr, whoi doan't us'n's jus' go to ee hall an' lissen to wot zurr Brock be wanten to tell uz?"

Brogalaw led off, patting Gurth's back. "Haharr, there speaks a wise cove, eh, Bucko?"

"Och aye, ye cannae argue wi' mole logic!"

Leaning on the hilt of his great sword, the Lord of Salamandastron waited until the hum of voices died away before explaining his plan.

"They say the only way to kill a snake is to cut off its head. Ungatt Trunn's blue vermin are the snake, he is its head. Without him they are leaderless. Tonight I am sending out a challenge to Trunn which should settle this conflict. I will meet him, face-to-face, claw to paw and tooth to fang in combat to the death!"

An immediate hubbub broke out. Dotti jumped up beside the badger, silencing them in her severest manner.

"Will you be quiet this instant, please! Such bad manners, behavin' like a horde of vermin, bad form!"

Baron Drucco's loud grumble echoed around the hall. "Ain't we h'entitled to no 'pinion?"

The haremaid shot him a frosty glare. "You certainly are, sah, but only after his lordship has had his say. Then we'll elect a spokesbeast to represent us all. I vote that'll jolly well be me!"

Amid the laughter which followed, the hare twins cried out, "Well said, miss Dotti. Capital idea, wot!"

"I second that, old chap. Motion carried without argument!"

Drucco's response was a shout which all heard. "Oh, awright, long as she don't start singin'!"

"Withdraw that remark, sah, or step outside with me!"

"Wot? Not before he's stepped outside with me. I'll box his ill-mannered spikes flat!"

Brocktree's booming voice silenced everybeast. "Stop this silly quarreling or I'll stop it for you!" An immediate hush fell. The Badger Lord continued, "There will be no arguments or opinions about this; it is my decision as your leader. Tomorrow at noon I will meet Ungatt Trunn out on the shore in front of this mountain. There will be no quarter given or asked and a free choice of weapons. Having said that, I do not expect for one moment that the wildcat will obey any rules. He did not get as far as he has by being a fair-minded creature. So, to guard against any treachery I will make my own arrangements with you so that the proper precautions are taken. Dotti, will you and Stiffener see to the guard patrols for tonight. Ruff, Grenn, Brogalaw, Drucco and Gurth, come to my chamber. Those of you not on sentry, get a good rest. You will need it to stand you in good stead tomorrow."

A blazing javelin whipped out of the mountain, cutting a fiery trail through the night. It buried its point in the damp sand below the tideline, extinguishing the flaming tip. Weasel Captain Bargut plucked the weapon from the sand and carried it to the rocks, where Ungatt Trunn was still in conference with Karangool.

"Mightiness, this came from the mountain. I think there is a message tied to it."

Taking the javelin, Trunn dismissed Bargut. He slit the twine holding the scroll to the weapon's middle with one razor-sharp claw. Karangool watched the wildcat as he scanned the parchment which had been rolled around the haft. Ungatt Trunn's shoulders began shaking. At first the fox thought his master was suffering an attack of ague, then he realized Ungatt Trunn was laughing, a sight no creature had ever beheld. The wildcat made no sound, but his eyes narrowed to slits and his mouth curved up at either end, his whole body quivering convulsively.

"Everything comes to the beast who waits, eh, Karangool?"

"Might'ness?"

"Here I am, trying to think of a way to accomplish my plan, when the stripedog unwittingly solves it all for me!"

"Good news, eh, Might'ness?'

"Better than you think, much better. Come, follow me!"

Ruff put his eye to a crack in the wood of a window shutter, peering at the approaching shapes.

"Well, they're comin', Brock, whole bunch o' the blue scum!"

"Can you see Trunn with them, Ruff?"

"Not so far, mate. 'Ang on. Aha, I sees the cat now, but just a glimpse. That 'un's takin' no chances. He's well shielded by three ranks o' guards, shields up, too."

The group halted within hailing distance. Trunn's shout rang out from between the ranks. "I received your message, stripedog!"

Brocktree's sharp growl answered. "Well, cat, do you agree to the terms?"

"How could I not agree? The one left standing takes all. But can I trust you to honor your word?"

"I am a Badger Lord. My word is my life and honor!"

"Good! I am Ungatt Trunn the Conqueror, I, too, will pledge you my word. I will respect your terms!"

"Tomorrow then, when the noon is high. We will meet there, where you stand upon the shore at this moment."

"Then I will look upon your face, stripedog!"

"And I will look upon yours, cat!"

"Not for long. I will close your eyes forever."

"You waste your breath on idle threats. Go away, cat!"

There followed a moment's silence, broken once or twice by outraged growls from the wildcat. Ruff returned to his spyhole in the shutter and peered out.

"Looks like they're gone, Brock."

Instinct guided Brocktree to the rift in the rock wall of his bedchamber. Moving the bed, he ran his paw along the crack. About halfway down he found the widening, where both his paws fitted. Only a beast with the strength of a badger could move the slab. Corded sinews stood out against bunched muscles beneath Brocktree's fur. Knowing that other badgers had done this before him, it gave Brocktree much pleasure to unleash his own raw power. The slab seemed to groan, then it moved inward, unable to resist his might. Though he had never been in the secret place of Badger Lords before, Brocktree felt at home there, his mind familiar with it. Fetching a lantern from his bedchamber, he traced the lines of carving which told the mountain's history, the legacy left him by the mummified figures of past Badger Rulers. Urthrun the Gripper, Spearlady Gorse, Bluestripe the Wild, Ceteruler the Just. He stared sadly at the place which stood unoccupied. His father, Lord Stonepaw, had been denied the right of taking his place there.

From the bedchamber, he carried through the big chair. It was almost like a rough throne. This had been his father's, he could feel it. Placing it in the space, he sat down. There was a heap of dark powder on a ledge, and he reached for some. It smelled like strange herbs, dried and crushed. A faint memory of a scent like this came to him. Brocktree sprinkled some in the lantern's air vent. Leaning back in his father's chair, he closed his eyes and inhaled.

It was an ancient fragrance, autumnal woods, faded summers, a winter sea and soft spring evenings. Badgers came and went through the crossroads of his mind, some dim and spectral, like those who had gone before, others light and ethereal, as if yet unborn. There was even a strong fearless mouse, bearing a beautiful sword, every bit as great a warrior as the badgers who roamed through his dreams. Battles were fought beneath forgotten suns, ships ranged the heaving seas through lightning-torn skies. Armies marched dusty paths, comrades in arms singing lustily. Brocktree's dream world turned through seasons of famine and feast, maidens singing, babes playing happily, silent lakes, chuckling streams, flower-strewn bowers and fruit-laden orchards. Then the tableaux changed: deserted caves, burning dwellings, vermin driving enslaved creatures over the slain members of their friends and family. Blood, war, misery, suffering . .. and finally . ..

The face of a wildcat he had not yet looked upon. Ungatt Trunn! The once fragrant aroma became bitter in Lord Brocktree's nostrils, and he awoke, shouting, "No, it shall not happen, do you hear me, cat? No!"