The Lutra - Jacques, Brian - Redwall 09 - The Pearls Of Lutra

They stared, stunned by the size of the creatures. One of the whales raised a mighty fluke and slammed it down on the face of the ocean, causing an enormous white explosion of water.

Martin watched the leviathans of the deep as they sported and played, each one like a black island rearing from the main. "Great seasons! I could imagine old Rollo laughing at me if I told him I had seen fishes as big as Redwall Abbey!"

Plogg and Welko were inclined to agree. "Hah! The Guo-sim'd say we'd been asleep an' seen the whales in our dreams, or they might say we'd eaten too much of Clecky's cooking."

The hare looked up, his face smudged from blowing on the ashes of the fire to get it rekindled again. "Oh, they would, would they? Base ingratitude! I've a jolly good mind to let you chaps get the scoff ready for that! I say, how about askin' old Hawmface to steer over that way, so's we can catch one of those whale type chaps. I wonder what they'd taste like cooked up. Hmmm, y'd need a blinkin' big pan ... Yagh!"

The hare shook himself as the rest of the crew shot water at him with their paws. He twisted his ears to wring them out. "Yah boo rotters, y've gone an' put me flippin' fire out!"

Toward evening the weather started to become mild and warm, though they were still feeling the breeze, owing to the fact that the tireless sealfolk never once slackened their breakneck pace. The logboat hissed through the water, bouncing across the waves like a runaway arrow.

Then Martin became worried. "See, the sun is setting in the west, over that way. We're being taken northward!"

Clecky had finally managed a small fire. He passed them each a slice of toasted shrewbread and some warm oat and barley cordial. "Nothing we c'n do about it at the moment, old lad. They're obviously takin' us someplace, though. Let's wait until we get there an' figure out our next move from where we land, wot?"

Grath stared out across the uncharted seas. "Aye, like as not the fates'll send us where they want."

On the western horizon the sun dipped beneath the sea like a crimson fireball, shooting rays of scarlet, pink and gold onto the underbellies of purple and cream cloudbanks. Viola snuggled down in the stern, nibbling a crust of shrewbread and thinking how different it all was from sitting in Great Hall and dining off the sumptuous fare commonplace to Redwall Abbey, far from the lonely sound of waves upon open sea.

Chapter 37

A full summer moon shone down on the path to Ninian's, casting pale flickering shadows upon three grim-faced creatures pounding through the woods purposefully at the head of a mixed band of shrews and otters, each one armed with sling, javelin, rapier or bow and arrows. Bravely Skipper kept pace with Log a Log and Rangapaw, bearing his injuries stoically. From between the trees they glimpsed the half-ruined spire of the ancient building.

Log a Log gritted his teeth, clasping his shrew rapier tight. "Soon be there now!" he said.

"Friend, is that you?"

Momentarily they halted and looked around. Again the voice sounded out into the night. "I'm in the ditch, friends. Help me!"

Throwing themselves flat at the pathside, Skipper and his burly daughter delved through nettles and reeds that grew up the bank.

"Got 'im. Git the other paw. Up y'come, Rollo sir!"

His face smeared with mud and his garments rent and torn, the old Recorder was hauled swiftly up onto the path, where he sat gasping out his story.

'We were attacked, or I should say the young maids were. It was jackdaws, a whole colony of the wicked birds. Gerul heard them screaming when we arrived at Ninian's; they were inside. Gerul told me to stay outside and charged inthere were awful sounds, screaming and cawing. Next thing I knew, Tansy and Craklyn were flung out through the door by Gerul, and he shouted for them to bring help from Redwall. So they could travel fast they lowered me into the ditch, telling me to hide and keep out of harm's way. I don't know what happened after that, until I heard one of you speak as you ran by."

Log a Log saw that Skipper was breathless and his wounds were bothering him; the shrew Chieftain sat the otter down on the path next to Rollo. "Stay here and guard him, Skip, you'll only slow us up. We've got enough here to do the job, me'n this big 'un of yores."

The Skipper of Otters nodded, he understood. "If'n our friends are hurt, then give those birds blood'n'vinegar. Go on, mate, git goin'!"

Without a backward glance they charged through the rotting doorframe of Ninian's. Jackdaws scattered everywhere as they tried to escape from the warriors who teemed in roaring the Abbey battle call.

''Redwaaaaaaallll!''

Scruvo their thieving leader and another of his band had Gerul on the floor, tearing savagely at him with their wicked beaks. Rangapaw hit Scruvo across the head with her otter javelin, the force of the blow shattering the weapon's haft and slaying Scruvo instantly. The other jackdaw gurgled its life out at the thrusting point of Log a Log's rapier. Other birds fell to the deadly nemesis of otters and shrews, though some of them fled, winging off into the night, never again to be seen in Mossflower.

Skipper and Rollo hobbled up to the gate in front of Ninian's. Log a Log and several other shrews were binding Gerul with strips from their tunics and ditch mud mixed with herbs to staunch his dreadful injuries. Skipper hastened to his friend's side. He stared down at the owl's homely face. "Is he alive?"

Log a Log shrugged, totally at a loss. "Aye, mate, there's still life in this owl, though why that should be I don't know the bird's taken enough to kill any three of us! I counted four jackdaws in there that he'd slain. I've seen some tough 'uns in my seasons, but none like yore mate Gerul!"

A heart-rending cry, like that of a dying beast, escaped Rollo's lips. Rangapaw strode slowly out of Ninian's carrying a forlorn little bundle in her hefty paws. Log a Log held Rollo back as he tried to intercept the big otter. The old Recorder's body was racked by sobs.

"No! No! Not Piknim, my little friend! Say she lives. Please!"

Tears rolled openly down the sturdy face of Rangapaw. She clasped the limp form to her as if nursing a babe. "Pore young maid, she'll always live in the memories of 'er mates."

As Rangapaw walked off toward Redwall with her sad burden, Rollo tore free of Log a Log's grasp. Straightening himself up, he wiped his eyes upon his habit sleeves and turned to the other Chieftain. "Skipper, will you help me to do something?" he said.

The otter grasped Rollo's frail old paw. "Anythin', matey, just ask!"

Rollo pointed to the doorway. "Go in there and find a large pink pearl. It will probably be in the nest of the leader of those birds."

Skipper was not long gone. As he emerged, everyone held their breath. He opened his paw to reveal the fourth pearl nestling in his palm. He handed it to Rollo, who clasped it tightly.

"Now, I want you to put flame to this place and burn it down!"

Skipper's voice registered his incredulity at the proposal. "Burn it down?"

But there was no hesitation in Rollo's determined mood. "Aye, burn it down until it is just a heap of rubble and bad memories. This has become a place of evil. I have read in the Abbey Records that on two occasions the enemies of Redwall used this place as a refuge. The first was Cluny the Scourge in the time of Matthias the Warrior, then there was Slagar the Cruel in the time of Mattimeo, when I was but a Dibbun. Now it has been used a third time as a den of thieves and murderers. Burn it!"

Dawn the next morning was gentle and bright; a silence seemed to lie over Mossflower country, even the birds remaining mute. Goodwife Teasel and the badger Mother Auma stood together on the ramparts of the outer wall facing south. From where the path curved they could see a dark column of smoke rising above the tops of the woodland trees.