Brian Jacques - [Redwall 10] - The Long Patrol

Held fast by four Rapscallions, the Major still struggled to break free and get at his enemy, even though he was

twice wounded. “So be it, foulface. Give me back my saber an’ I’ll fight you, blade-to-blade. Come on, vermin, let’s

have at it, wot!”

Damug looked Perigord up and down. Dried blood was caked over the Major’s brow, covering his right eye, while

the Redwall tunic hung from him in shreds, revealing a ragged scar on one shoulder. The Greatrat sneered

contemptuously. “Your fighting days are over, fool. I’m going to make an example of you in front of your friends.

Conquered beasts always leam to behave better when they see their leader executed. Get him down in front of me and

bend his head!”

A massive roar shook the night air, chilling the blood of every Rapscallion on the ridge.

“Eulaliaaaaaaa!”

Thundering forward, fifty paces ahead of her command, Lady Cregga Rose Eyes hit the vermin ranks like a

lightning storm.

Tammo saw vermin actually fly through the air as the huge badger, her eyes blazing red with Bloodwrath, swung

her ax-pike into them. Then she was upon Damug Warfang. Casting her weapon away, she seized the Firstblade with

both paws and teeth.

“Spawn of Gormad Tunn! Evil murderer’s kin! Come to me!”

Hacking furiously at the Badger Warrior’s head with his sword, Damug gave an unearthly screech. Locked

together, the pair hurtled into space from the ridgetop.

“Eulaliaaaa! ’S death on the wind! Eulaliaaaaaa!”

Booting aside a rat, Major Perigord grabbed his saber. “Hares on the ridge, hundreds of ’em! Eulaliaaaaaa!”

The army from Salamandastron charged into the Rapscallions’ midst to join the Redwallers. Galloper Riffle was

down; a snarling weasel who was about to dispatch him with a dagger thrust fell forward, slain by a saber swing.

Riffle felt himself pulled upright; he stopped a moment in the thick of battle, recognizing his rescuer. “Algador! My

brother!”

The young Runner blinked, smiling and crying at the same time. “Riffle, thank the seasons you’re alive!”

“Logalogalogalogalooooog!”

The shrew Chieftain, at the head of his remaining Guosim, tore into a pack of vermin and chased them the length

of the ridge.

“Redwaaaaaalll! No surrender, no quarter, me buckoes!”

Skipper of Otters and his ragged band threw themselves headlong at another group of foebeasts, javelins forward.

Tammo had formed foursquare with Pasque, Midge, Tway-blade, and Fourdun, battling madly against the

desperate Rapscallions. They pushed their way with blade, sling, and tooth to where Corporal Rubbadub lay stretched

on the ground, limp and trampled. While the others fought, Pasque stooped to inspect the big lump and the awesome

cut across the back of Rubbadub’s head. She looked up sadly at her friends. “I think poor old Rubbadub’s gone!”

“Nonsense!” Twayblade kicked Rubbadub’s paw roughly.

Turning over, the drummer rubbed his head, grinning widely. “Dubadubadubb! B’boom!”

Sergeant Torgoch found himself fighting alongside Drill Sergeant Clubrush. The pair fought like madbeasts but

chatted like old pals.

“By the left, Sar’nt, yore young’uns are shapin’ up well!”

“They certainly are, Sar’nt—they pulled yore chestnuts out o’ the fire!”

Tare and Tuny had formed up with Trowbaggs and Furgale. They pressed forward in a straight line, driving

Rapscallions off the edge of the ridge. Determined to distinguish himself in this his first action, Trowbaggs pulled

away from the others and began taking on four vermin single-pawedly. “Have at ye, y’scurvy rascals, Trowbaggs the

Terrible’s here!”

He managed to slay one before another got behind him and put him down with a dagger in his side. Corporal

Ellbrig and Shangle Widepad rushed in to his aid, slaying two and sending the other one running.

Holding on to his side, Trowbaggs managed a weak smile. “Chap got behind me. Wasn’t very sportin’ of him, was

it, Corp?”

Shangle provided cover while Ellbrig ministered to the recruit. “Trowbaggs, wot am I goin’ t’do with you, eh? War

isn’t no game—there ain’t no such thing as a vermin bein’ sporty. Good job that dagger only took a bit o’ fur’n’flesh.

You’d be a goner now if’n that was an inward stab instead o’ a sideways one. Come on, up on yore

hunkers, me

beauty, stick wid me’n’ole Shang.”

Furgale and Reeve Starbuck were in difficulties. Heavily outnumbered, they fought gallantly. Tammo’s party saw

they were in a fix and dashed over to help, but too late. Both the recruits went under from vermin spear thrusts before

they could be reached. Others came running to avenge their comrades, exacting a terrible retribution on the vermin

spear-carriers with swords and javelins.

Clubrush saw Furgale twitch, and he knelt by him, supporting his head. “Y’did bravely, young sir. Be still now,

we’ll git you some ’elp.”

Furgale tried to focus on Clubrush, his eyes fluttering weakly. “Get my old job back, servin’ you an’ Colonel Eye-

bright in the mess ... won’t shout too loud though, Colonel doesn’t like that ...”

The young recruit’s head lolled to one side, his eyes closed. Drill Sergeant Clubrush hugged him tightly, tears

flowing openly down his grizzled face. “I ’ope you’ve gone to an ’appier place than this blood-strewn ridge,”

The tide of battle was turned. What was left of the mighty Rapscallion army fled from the hill, pursued by the hares

and the Redwallers. Major Perigord and Captain Twayblade limped their way down the hill and across the valley, with

Tammo and Pasque following them. They found Lady Cregga in the rift, clutching the mangled remains and broken

sword of Damug Warfang.

Pasque Valerian was the only one of the four who was still fit and active. She climbed down to the bottom of the

rift. Perigord peered over the edge, watching her inspect the badger.

“I say, Pasque, get a chunk o’ that smoulderin’ wood t’make a torch.”

The young hare snapped off a billet of pine from the charred trunk and blew gently upon it until the flame

rekindled itself. She looked closely at the still form of Lady Cregga, checking her carefully.

“Good news, sah! Though you wouldn’t think it to look at her. Lady Cregga’s alive, but Warfang must have

slashed an’ battered at her with his sword somethin’ dreadful. Her face, head, an’ eyes suffered terrible injuries, but as

I say, she lives!”

The Major winced as he straightened up. “Well, there’s a thing! Our Badger Lady must be jolly well made of iron.

Tammo, see if y’can hunt up stuff t’make a stretcher and find some able-bodied beasts to carry it. Tamtn, are you all

right, old lad?”

Tammo sat at the edge of the rift, his head in both paws, shaking and weeping uncontrollably. “No, I’m not all

right, sah. I’ve seen death! I’ve been in a battle, I’ve slain other creatures, seen friends cut down before my eyes, and

all I can think of is, thank the fates I’m not dead. Though the way I feel right now I don’t know if I want to go on

living!”

The Major sat down beside him, “I know what y’mean, young ’un, but think for a moment. Think of the babes at

Redwall and the oldsters, think of all the families, like your own, who will never be frightened or harmed by the bad

ones we fought against. You’ve done nothin’ t’be ashamed of. The Colonel an’ your mother would be proud to know

they had a son like you. What d’you say, Pasque? Tell this perilous feller.”