Brian Jacques: Redwall #06 - The Outcast of Redwall

Swartt picked them up and inspected them. “Bulrushes? he said.

Nightshade was a healer, and she knew every plant by name. “Thats right, bulrushes. They are also called reed mace, or just mace in some parts of the country.

Swartt Sixciaw flung them on the fire and watched them smolder. “Mace! It doesnt take a genius to work out who did this.

The vixen narrowed her eyes against the smoke of the fire, saying, “You should have caught him and slain him the night he escaped.

Swartt leapt up. Drawing his sword, he scattered the fire and shouted, “Should have! Might have! Would have! Thats in the past! Get those idlers up off their tails, we travel east!

The vixen sprang aside to avoid the burning embers. “East? But my scouts tell me Sunflash still travels south by west. What is there in the east?

“Bowfleg!

Nightshade raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Bowfleg the Warlord?

Swartt thrust the sword back through his belt, sneering, “Bowfleg the Warlord, hah! You mean Bowfleg the Old, Bowfleg the Fat, Bowfleg the Glutton!

Nightshade shrugged. “Still, he leads a great horde. Swartt chuckled evilly as he marched off. “Not for long!

3?

The far northwest fringes of Mossflower Woods are broken by rocky outcrops, gullies, and hills. One could wonder why creatures bothered living there when the woodlands farther inward were so lush and bounteous. But home is home, and often creatures do not like to move away from the familiar surroundings of their birthplaces. So it was with the hedgehog family of Tiny Lingl and the mole kin of Bruff Dubbo, who had shared the same dwelling cave for untold generations. Tirry and his wife, Dearie, had four small hogs, scarce a season and a half old. Not counting his old uncle Blunn and aunt Ummer, Bruff had his wife, Lully, and two little mole maid daughters, Nilly and Podd, to provide for.

However, the dwelling cave of both families was not a happy place. It was a hungry and dangerous time for them, for outside in the gray drizzling afternoon another family waited, a family of five foxes. The old vixen with a hulking son covered the back exit, while the father, an equally old dogfox, sat outside the front entrance with a fully grown son and daughter who towered over him. They had been there nearly half a season, laying siege to the dwelling. It was quite easy to relieve one another for the purposes of eating and sleeping, and still keep up a presence, taunting and reasoning by turns, knowing they had the hedgehogs and moles prisoners in their own home until hunger forced them out.

“Dont be foolish, come out, theres food here, friends, the vixen wheedled.

Tirry Lingl shouted back at them, “Garn, shift yoreselves, vermin, you aint welcome ere!

The hulking fox son sniggered as he called into the back exit, “Heehee, therell be something tasty here when you come out. Heeheehee. You!

The vixen nipped him sharply on his ear. “Shuttup, acorn brain, do you want to scare em to death?

The old father fox cajoled at the front entrance. “Come on, be reasonable, we just want to talk. You dont think wed hurt yer liddle ones, do yer?

Inside the dwelling, Bruff Dubbo helped Tirry to shore up die barricade they had made from furniture and the bit of earth they could scrabble from the caves rocky interior.

Bruff shook his dark furry head sadly as he spoke in quaint mole dialect to his companion. “Hurr oi wisht oi ad moi ole bownarrers, they vurmintsd soon shift theymselves, hurr aye!

Tiny Lingl peered through a gap between an armchair and a table at the foxes sitting outside. “Theyve got time on their rotten ole side, Bruff, we aint. Liddle uns drank the last o die water this mornin an theres nought but a stale rye crust stannin atwixt us an starvation.

Uncle Blunns quavery voice piped up behind them. “Youm rarscalls! Oim a cummen owt thurr to beat ee with moi gurt stick, ho urr, so oi am!

Bruff turned the old fellow round, patting his back. “Youm a fierce ole haminal, Nuncle Blunn, but et be toime furr ee noontide nap. Hurr thurr, gon lay ee daown.

Back in the cave, the little hedgehogs began weeping for food and a drink, and the two wives, Lully and Dearie, shushed them soothingly. The small group slumped dejected, knowing what their inevitable fate would be.

Sunflash the Mace sat amid the pines and shrubs on a neighbouring hillside, invisible to the foxes as he watched the scene below. Rain dripped from the edges of an old green cloak draped over his head. The warrior looked up now and then, searching the skies for the familiar figure of Skarlath to break through the drab curtain of drizzle, and then rested his chin on his mace handle. Over the seasons he had shaped it into a weapon that would last throughout his life. The handle had a tight binding of whipcord, which formed a loop to go over his paw, and the rest of the club had been fire-hardened, oiled, and polished. Several arrowheads and spear tips were half buried in the wide, rounded head of the mace. Only Sunflash had the skill and strength to wield such a formidable weapon.

Skarlath had seen the foxes, too. He landed out of their sight and crept silently up until he was at Sunflashs side.

“Friend Skarlath, what news of Swartt Sixclaw? said the badger, keeping his eyes on the foxes below.

The kestrel edged under Sunflashs cloak, out of the rain. “Gone east three sunrises back, mayhap we were thinning his ranks too fine for him to follow us safely.

Sunflash never once moved his eyes from the foxes. “I think youre right, but hell be after us again someday, a little older, angrier, and with a lot more help. His ruined sixclaw wont let him forget us. Maybe well wait here for him.

The kestrels keen eyes began watching the foxes closely. “They look like theyre all one brood. What are they up to?

Sunflash pointed a huge paw at the cave entrance. “I think theyve got some likely victims bottled up in there. I was waiting on your return. The foxes are just bullies; I would not feel justified in slaying them, but they must be taught a lesson. If they see me, theyll be frightened off. Would you go down and speak to those foxes for me, my friend?

The young vixen and her brothers were running out of patience, and they began hurling stones through the cave entrance and shouting, “Get out here, you stupid beasts!

“Ill count to ten and then were coming in after you.... One!

Skarlath fluttered to earth between the cave and the foxes. “Kreeeeee! You must go from here!

The old fox did not appear at all disturbed. “Who are you, bird, what dyer want? he said indignantly.

The kestrel treated him with lofty disdain. “Who I am matters not. I was sent here to tell you to go quickly and stop persecuting whoever lives in yonder cave.

The hulking son and his vixen mother came dashing round from the rear entrance, and the former picked up a stone and made to hurl it at the kestrel.

Skarlath spread his wings wide. “Throw the stone and you will not see nightfall!

“The birds bluffing, the vixen snarled nastily. “Theres Only him! Come on, rush him!

Before diey could move, the mace came hissing through the air and thudded upright in die wet ground. A voice like thunder froze the foxes in their tracks.

“Be still or die! Eeulaliaaaaa!

They watched astounded as a huge badger came bounding down the hillside. Taking a rock ledge in his stride, he gave ft mighty leap and landed among them with a roar.

“I am Sunflash the Mace!

The vermin had heard the name; they crouched against the earth, trembling.

Sunflash nodded to Skarlath. “See who lives in the cave. Tell them they are safe.

Peering through the barricade of furniture, BrufTs wife, Lully, called out, “Yurr, tis an awkburd!