Brian Jacques - Redwall #05 - The Legend of Luke

Vurg dusted his paws off in a businesslike manner. "That means we ain't far behind her, mate. Better get under way. What do we do about this 'un, Luke?"

The weasel looked unhappily at the Warrior. Touching the swordblade with a paw, she tried to shake her head. A mischievous smile crept over Luke's face, and he thrust a big squashed plum at the weasel's mouth. "Eat!" She shut her lips tight in revulsion. Luke swung his blade aloft as if to slay her with one blow. "Marrahagga eat! Eat!"

The weasel gobbled the fruit with great alacrity.

Vurg giggled like a mousebabe and selected a bruised pear. "Cummon, Marryhaggit, try some more o' yore own medicine!"

The weasel was forced to down two more plums and a peach. She sat unhappily, juice dribbling down her chin.

Vurg turned to Luke, full of mock sympathy. "Dearie me, she don't look too 'appy, mate. D'ye think she's still hungry?"

Luke passed the weasel a half-eaten apple that one of his crew had sampled earlier on. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about ole Marrahagga, mate, she'll cheer up soon. Come on, let's get goin'."

When they looked back, the weasel had picked up a piece of fruit and was about to hurl it at them. She swayed, dropped the fruit and sat down with a bump, a silly grin plastered on her painted face.

Vurg waved to her. "G'bye, ole Marryhaggit, 'tis nice to see we're leavin' you happy. I can't abide sad farewells!"

Luke waved, too. "Aye, an' take care of that headache you'll have tomorrow!"

As the Saynaleft the island in her wake, the crew sat sipping hot tea of a herbal remedy brewed by Denno. Cardo, voted spokesmouse by his crewmates, addressed the Warrior.

"Luke, we're sorry we raced ashore an' ate that fruit. 'Twas silly of us. But we'd like to offer a hearty vote of thanks to you for savin' our lives. Yore a true warrior!"

Luke held up his paws to silence the cheers. "Aye, I saved you because I was able to, mates. Pity I wasn't there when the red ship hit the northlands shore. Every night an' day I think of my son Martin back there, growin' up without a mother to care for him, nor a father, with me off here chasin' the red ship. But we'll catch her, I swear we will. An' I'll make the name Vilu Daskar just a dirty memory in the minds of honest beasts!"

The crew went off to their sleeping places as the ship sailed south in the soft warm night, each with their own memories of family lost or left behind. Luke stood in the prow, keeping watch, lost in thoughts of Martin's small figure on the strand, waving his father's old battlesword. He stared forlornly at the gentle bow wave dispersing into the calm dark sea.

"Someday I'll come back and find you waiting for me, son.

Chapter 25

On an island many leagues to the south, black smoke billowed above the crackling flames of what had once been a peaceful community of squirrels. Vermin, armed to the fangs, roamed in bands through the forestlands, slaying anybeast who dared to oppose them. Screams rent the air, whips cracked as pitiless rogues rounded up those left alive. Bound neck and paw into a straggling line, the bewildered captives were dragged out of the sheltering trees, into the dunes above the tideline. Akkla, the ferret mate, sniggered evilly, watching the prisoners' horror as they glimpsed their home to be: the red ship Goreleech,riding at anchor in the sea offshore.

"Move yerselves, me beauties, we'll soon find yer a snug liddle berth aboard the pretty red boat!"

Vilu Daskar sat on the beach, chin on the bone handle of his scimitar, pensively watching while Parug, his bosun, forced the terrified squirrels to kneel and bow their heads before the master of the red ship. Vilu stayed silent until the pitiful heap of provisions and plunder was piled in front of him. Lazily the stoat's eyes flicked over the crewbeasts standing around the pile.

"Is this the best you could do?"

One, a burly weasel called Rippjaw, shrugged. "Dat's all we be findin', cap'n!"

Vilu stood slowly, his eyes fixed on a necklace of yellow beads, which Rippjaw sported about his neck.

"So, where did you get that trinket, my illiterate friend?"

Rippjaw glanced down at the necklace with his good eye. "Oh, diss. I take 'im offa deadbeast, cap'n."

Vilu's scimitar made a noise like an angry wasp as he slew the weasel with one powerful stroke of the sharp blade. With a look of bored disdain, he flicked the necklace from Rippjaw's severed neck onto the pile.

"Must I keep reminding you addlebrained fools that all loot belongs to me? You do not steal from Vilu Daskar." He turned to the prisoners, as if noticing them for the first time. "Hmm, you're a pretty wretched lot. No mind, though, you'll soon learn to pull an oareither that or die. Well, lost your tongues? Nobeast got anything to say?"

An ancient squirrel, silver-gray with uncounted seasons, raised his bound paws and pointed at Vilu. "The one that follows upon the wave, will steer you one day to your grave!"

The stoat could not explain the shudder that ran through him, but it was gone in an instant. He dismissed it, observing to Akkla, who stood awaiting orders, "I make it a rule never to take notice of threats by those I've conquered. If any of them were true, I'd have been dead long ago. Take that dithering old relic and the rest of his tribe aboard the Goreleechand chain them on deck."

The captives were being moved off when wild commotion broke out at the woodland fringe. More than a score of crewbeasts fought wildly to control a single squirrel. Vilu leaped nimbly onto a grass-topped dune, viewing the scene with evident enjoyment. Noosed ropes held the maddened squirrel by her paws, neck, tail and waist. The vermin dug their footpaws into the sand, hauling on the lines to keep them taut and prevent her attacking them. She was a huge sinewy creature, with unusually black shining fur that glistened in the sunlight. Though wounded and scarred in several places, she heaved and bucked against the ropes, sending vermin sprawling, baring strong white teeth at them.

Stopping safely out of reach on his perch, Vilu smiled. "Whoa! What have we here, a real fighter?"

The searat Grigg, his paws cut and burning from rope friction, reported in a strained voice, "This'n's killed four crew single-pawed, cap'n. 'Tis like tryin' to 'old a pack o' sharks at bay!"

Vilu leaped down from the dune. "Hold her tight, now!" Advancing on the bound squirrel, he soon had his scimitar tip under her chin, forcing her head back.

"Be still now. I am Vilu Daskar and I could kill you with a flick of my blade. Be still!"

Snorting for breath against the noose around her neck, the squirrel fixed her blazing eyes on the stoat, hatred and loathing ringing fearlessly in her harsh voice.

"I know who you are, scumface. Let's see you put down that blade an' loose me. I'm Ranguvar Foeseeker an' I could rip yout'bits without need of a weapon to do the job!"

Vilu pressed his bladepoint harder, causing a drop of blood to stand out against the jet black fur.

"Ranguvar Foeseeker, eh? Hearken then, you're in no position to throw out challenges, and I've no intention of fighting you. I don't do battle with my slaves."

Ranguvar tried to push her chin further onto the blade. "Coward! Then slay me an' be quick about it!"

Vilu withdrew his scimitar, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd live to see the day, a berserk female squirrel! No no, my friend, I'm not going to slay you. What a waste that would be. With mad strength like that you could do the work of a score of oar slaves alone. A few seasons of Bullflay's whip and short rations will humble you. Down on the bottom deck, front row. The seaspray day and night should cool you down a bit. Take her away!"

"You won't break me, dirtbrain," Ranguvar yelled as she was being dragged off. "Don't close your eyes to sleep while Ranguvar Foeseeker is aboard your cursed ship!"