Marlfox - Jacques, Brian - Redwall 11 - Marlfox

"Nah, Splikker was with 'em. He wouldn't let hisself get ambushed."

"Oh, wouldn't 'e, then? Remember that time by the south rapids ..."

"Stow the gab an' latch yore lips, mates. Mayon, see to the vittles!"

Log a Log stamped up onto the bank, shaking water from himself. The shrews were seated in a circle three deep when Bargle and his scouts came in. Log a Log motioned them to sit and help themselves to a beaker of rough cider each and some wedges of white celery cheese with shrewbread. When they were comfortably settled and eating, Bargle made his report.

"We saw the two Marlfoxes just afore noon, Chief, west of 'ere, over by widestream. Then they vanished, right in front of our eyes!"

Log a Log undid his shoulder belt and let his rapier fall to the ground, rubbing the back of a paw wearily across his eyes. "No sign o' those rats or our logboats, I suppose?"

The shrew named Splikker shrugged. "Never saw 'em, but we tracked their sign, an' they're bound west an' a point south, Chief. By the seasons, they can paddle boats as well as any shrew can, believe me."

Log a Log shook his head despairingly. "Stands to reason, doesn't it? They're water rats. West an' a point south, y'say?"

"Aye, Chief, but there's a lot of 'em, so the logboats'll be overloaded. I saw keel scrapin's in the shallows. They can't be travelin' very fast, weighted down as they are."

Log a Log drained his beaker and sat awhile, gnawing worriedly at his lip. The Guosim watched him in silence, until a scuffle broke out behind his back. Log a Log whirled around in time to see a hulking shrew deal the young one who had been eating the watercress a hefty blow. As the young shrew fell back holding his face, the hefty one began to kick him, rumbling bad-temperedly, "It was you, Dippler, sleepin' on guard while those foxes'n'rats stole the boats from under yer nose, yer worthless, tail-draggin'..."

Log a Log was up in a flash. Launching himself sideways, he caught the hefty one a flying double kick to the stomach, sending him sprawling. The Chieftain stood over him, quivering with anger. "Lay a paw near Dippler again an' I'll boot yore guts through yer backbone, that's if you've got any!"

The hefty shrew, who was called Fenno, glared up at his chief, his eyes filled with unspoken rage. Log a Log was older, smaller and lighter than him, but he was not Chieftain for nothing. Log a Log smiled, nodding back to his rapier on the ground. "C'mon, Fenno, yer a fine big beast. Carryin' a blade, too. I'm not armed, but if y'figger yore brave enough t'carry out the beatin's in this tribe, then why not try me? Come on, mate, let's see what yore made of, eh?"

There was tension in the air as the Guosim watched both shrews. Then Fenno, still lying flat, placed a paw across his eyes, a sign of submission. A few chuckles broke out from the Guosim.

"Ole Fenno did the sensible thing there, mate!"

"Aye, so he did. Nobeast messes with Log a Log!"

"Leastways, nobeast that wants ter grow old in one piece!"

Log a Log helped Dippler up. Throwing a paw round the youngster's shoulders, he gestured for silence. "Hearken now, I don't want any shrew complainin' about young Dippler, or tryin' to rough him up. We was all young once an' we all made mistakes, some of 'em worse'n others. Dippler slept on guard an' lost our logboats, all six of 'emgood craft too, they were. So the young 'un'll learn better, he'll try harder. You will, won't yer, matey?"

Dippler wiped mud from his bruised face, smiling through his tears. "I won't let the Guosim down ever again, Chief. That's a promise!"

Log a Log patted Dippler's back heartily. "Good feller! Now, Guosim, 'ere's the bad news. Those boats of ours can only go one way on widestream, an' that way takes 'em too close to Redwall Abbey fer my likin'. I know we ain't used to walkin', but we've got to get to the Abbey an' warn 'em. I never saw water rats in Mossflower afore, but I know that their leaders, those Marlfoxes, are evil beasts. Magic, too. They've got tools, wood an' carpenters at the Abbey, so the sooner we're there the quicker we'll get new boats built. Right?"

The bass-voiced shrews roared back agreement gruffly. "Right!"

Log a Log smiled as he buckled his rapier back on. "So wot are you sittin' round like a crowd o' butterflies with wet wings for? Let's get trampin'!"

They formed up into six lines, one for the crew of each boat. As they marched away, Bargle called out to Log a Log. "I know we ain't sailin', Chief, but could we sing a paddle song to 'elp us keep pawstep on the way?"

Log a Log nodded and roared out a fast paddle song with the rest as they stamped away through the dim tree aisles of Mossflower.

"Whum chakka um chakka chumchakka whum!

Guosim dig yore paddle deep,

Hurly-burly river wide'n'curly,

There's no time to sleep.

Whum chakka um chakka chumchakka whum!

Rapid wild and fast do go,

Hurly-burly river wide'n'curly,

Bend yore backs an' row.

Whum chakka um chakka chumchakka whum!

Keep her bows up in the foam,

Hurly-burly river wide'n'curly,

Logboat take us home.

Whum chakka um chakka chumchakka ..."

The rousing boatsong echoed through wooded glades and grassy clearings as Log a Log and his Guosim shrews marched to Redwall.

Chapter 3

Extract from the writings of Old Friar Butty, Squirrel Recorder of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower country.

I had a twinge in my left footpaw a moment backI hope that's a sign of rain. We could certainly do with a good shower. Everything seems to be drooping or wilting. Badgermum Cregga says 'tis the dryest summer she's ever known, and she's seen more summers than the rest of us put together! Redwallers have had to form a chain from the Abbey pond to the orchard, bringing pails of water for the thirsty trees and vines that produce our fruits and berries. A pity we haven't more able-bodied creaturesRedwall Abbey seems to be populated by the elders or the very young these last few seasons. I can remember in the times when Abbess Tansy ruled, there seemed to be no end of willing otters, moles, mice, squirrels and hedgehogs to perform the daily chores of Redwall. But that was a long time back, when I served as an assistant cook in the kitchens under Old Mother Buscol. Who would have thought the days would arrive when I would be called old? Yes, Old Friar Butty, that's me, too old to cook and far too rheumaticky to serve as Abbot, even though there was a time when everybeast seemed to keep asking me to take up the position. 'Tis a sad reflection, Redwall Abbey without Abbot or Abbess, but that's the way things are this season. Poor old Arven, who was once Abbey Warrior, served as Abbot for three seasons, after Abbess Tansy had gone to her rest. Unfortunately he passed on to the sunlit pastures during the spring, having survived a rough winter. So now there is only myself and Badgermum Cregga, with the good mouse Sister Sloey running the Infirmary, Tragglo Spearback our hedgehog Cellarkeeper, Dig-gum and Gurrbowl, his mole helpers, and Gubbio, who is now Foremole. All that is left of our old friends. The sword of Martin, our Founder and first Abbey Warrior, hangs on the wall in Cregga's room. His brave guiding spirit is blended into the ancient red sandstone of our beautiful Abbey. Seasons have been kind and peace has reigned here many, many summers. I think it is thanks to the spirit of Martin. Oh, I forgot one other still here from the old days. In fact I can see him now, from the gatehouse window where I am sitting, Nutwing the owl. He was one of three born here at Redwall. His brother and sister have long flown off, but Nutwing has stayed and remained faithful to the Abbey. He is, how shall I put it, an unwise old owl, having great lapses of memory in his latter seasons. You will pardon me, I'm sure, but I feel I'm about to be lured away from my recording duties. I just hope 'tis nothing too strenuous.