Brian Jacques - Martin the Warrior [Redwall 6]

Roaring and screaming like a wounded wolf, Martin threw himself from the walltop. Badrang leaped into the hole, only to find Pallum in a needletight ball blocking his way. The burned palisade of the slave compound saved Martin, breaking his fall as it exploded in a cloud of black ashdust to the dawn streaked sky. Badrang had time to hack at Pallum only once before the Warrior was on him. He was heaved bodily from the hole, arching his back in agony as the flat of Martin's small sword whipped him.

"Get up, you scum! Up on your paws and face me!"

Badrang scrambled up. Holding the long sword of Luke the Warrior before him with both paws, he rushed Martin. The onlookers gave a cry of dismay as the sword raked Martin's chest. Heedless of it, the Warrior began striking back. Steel clashed upon steel as the young mouse with the short sword battered Badrang round and round the ruins of the compound. Badrang flailed out in a panic, catching his enemy on the shoulder, arm and paw. They locked blades and stood with their noses touching, Badrang's eyes wide with horror as he stared into the face of the snarling, unstoppable Warrior who was forcing him backwards as he gritted out, "I told you I would return someday and put an end to you!"

Wrenching his face away, the stoat bit deep into his foe's shoulder, only to find himself lifted bodily and hurled hard against the wall.

Martin flung the shrew sword from him, locking both paws around Badrang's grip on the sword. The Tyrant wailed as he felt the Warrior's inexorable power turning the weapon until its point was hovering close to his heart.

Badrang's nerve deserted him. "Don't kill me," he sobbed. "You can have it all, the fortress, everythi-!"

The Tyrant of Marshank's mouth fell open and his head lolled to one side as he fell forward, carrying Martin to the ground underneath him. With his last vestige of strength, the young mouse pushed the slain foebeast from him and tugged his father's sword loose. Lying on his side with sand crusting the blood of his warwounds, Martin saw dawn's light beam across the face of Rose where she lay close to him by the wall.

The merciful darkness closed in on him as he murmured to her,

"Rose, we could have chopped the sycamore down with this."

43

The sun rose in summer splendor as Starwort's drum beat out a victory roll. Unaware of certain events, a large crowd stood cheering in the smouldering gateway that lay open to the sun warmed shore and the sparkling sea. Rowanoak strode slowly up, placing a restraining paw on the jubilant otter Chieftain. "Silence the drum, friend. Our battle was won at a bitter price."

Brome worked away dry eyed on the wounds of the unconscious mouse warrior, binding and staunching as he applied herb poultices, all the time talking to himself. "It was all my fault, if I had stayed at Noonvale and not gone wandering I would never have been captured by Badrang's creatures and none of this would have happened. I am to blame!"

Ballaw sniffed. Bending down one ear, he wiped his syes. "There, there, old lad. There's only one beast t' ?lame for all this and that's Badrang. Martin settled the >core with him for good; the evil has gone from this and for ever."

Grumm stumbled up with a large dressing on the side :>f his face and neck. Deep rivulets carved their way iown his face where the tears flowed constantly, and he nade several small gestures with his paws before Buckler sat him down with a large kerchief. "You'm 'ave to

'scuse Grumm, Maister Brome, him'n losed 'is voice through a grieven.

We'm puttin' fallen uns t' rest.... Wot abowt Miz Roser?"

Brome left off ministering to Martin's senseless form. He took a huge breath, letting it out in a shuddering sigh. "Thank you, friends, but I'm taking her home to Noonvale with me." Reaching out, he tucked in a corner of the simple white linen cloth that covered his sister's pitiful body. "Rose would have been alive today but for me, you know."

Buckler shook his head. "You'm not to blame, maister, nor Marthen, nor nobeast yurr."

Rowanoak looked bleakly around at the ruined, smoke stained walls of Marshank, where not one foe beast had been left alive. "I don't know where we're all bound, but let's get away from this place!"

Boldred seconded the badger's wise words. "Rowanoak is right.

There's been too much death and grief here, it seems to be part of the very stones. We'll leave what's left of Marshank standing as a reminder to any bad ones of what free and peaceful creatures can do when they're driven to it!"

Helped by Marigold, Brome placed Martin on a stretcher. He stood upright and addressed the multitude.

"Some of you, like the otters and the shrews of Broad stream, have homes to return to. Those of you who have no homes, listen to me.

Noonvale can be your home, a place of peace to live happily in for all seasons. Put aside your weapons if you wish to go with me to Noonvale."

A pile of javelins, swords, daggers, bows and arrows lay at the center of the deserted compound that had once held Badrang's slaves.

On the shore outside the fortress, comrades who had fought together now took their leave of each other. Like a stern father, the Warden of Marsh wood Hill shepherded the wild and wayward squirrel tribe back to their mountain foothills beyond the marshes. Boldred watched them go. "He'll keep his eye on those rogues. Come on, let's get Martin away from here."

Bound to the stretcher, and still clasping his father's sword tightly, the unconscious young mouse was carried south along the beach by Pallum, Grumm, Boldred and Rowanoak.

Ballaw turned to the remainder of the Rambling Rosehip players, who stood alongside others bound for Noonvale. "Old Rowanoak'll join us once Martin's safe, wot! Right ho, Starwort, lead us to your vessel, my good otter!"

Queen Amballa stood with her pigmy shrews. They were the last to leave. One of the shrews had picked up the sword she had once given to Martin. Waddling behind Brome, she called out, "Waitmouse!"

Brome halted. He watched as the Queen of the pigmy shrews signalled the otters carrying Rose's bier to lower it. Placing the small sword beside the mousemaid's still form, Amballa spoke in her curt vigorous manner.

"Rosemouse bravemouse! We remember hername allseasons!" She waved to the pigmy shrews and they set off south along the shoreline for their own territory.

High noontide hung over Marshank. It lay open to the insects, birds and seasons. A breeze lingered there, swirling the dust and sand into miniature spirals, mingling it with ashes around the carcasses of Badrang's horde, which had been left for the gannets and scavenging sea birds to dispose of. The once proud fortress of the Tyrant now stood deserted and forsaken.

The first gannet to land was chased off by Cap'n Tramun Clogg, waving his spade as he trundled out of hiding from the grave surmounted by the upturned wheelbarrow.

"Garn! Gerroutofit, you robbin' featherbag! Leave my 'orde alone.

I'm master 'ere now, just like I said I'd be one day, haharrharr!" The crazed corsair clumped about, turning first this one and then another, chatting amiably with the slain.

"Crosstooth, me ole matey, yore lookin' prime!"

"Harr, Boggs, sorry ye didn't join yer ole Cap'n to dig graves now, are ye?"

"Stumptooth, I allus said you should've sided with me. Never mind, mate, I'll find ye a snug berth. Leave it to Cloggo!"

He worked his way around until he found what he was looking for.

"Badrang! Arr, where's yer fine dreams of empires now, you swab?

Met a warrior who was more'n a match for ye, eh! Well, we're gonna be 'ere for ever now, you'n me, so let's not quarrel an' fall out with each other, matey. Tell yer wot, I'll dig ye a smart new grave, nice an'

deep, aye, with rocks piled atop an' yer name carved all 'andsome like on one of 'em!"